proofreading team. [transcriber's note: this book was first published in german in 1844, and in english translation in 1848. this edition was not dated. color illustrations appear on every page, often "playing" with the text.] struwwelpeter merry stories and funny pictures heinrich hoffman frederick warne & co., inc. new york struwwelpeter merry stories and funny pictures when the children have been good, that is, be it understood, good at meal-times, good at play, good all night and good all day- they shall have the pretty things merry christmas always brings. naughty, romping girls and boys tear their clothes and make a noise, spoil their pinafores and frocks, and deserve no christmas-box. such as these shall never look at this pretty picture-book. shock-headed peter just look at him! there he stands, with his nasty hair and hands. see! his nails are never cut; they are grimed as black as soot; and the sloven, i declare, never once has combed his hair; anything to me is sweeter than to see shock-headed peter. cruel frederick here is cruel frederick, see! a horrid wicked boy was he; he caught the flies, poor little things, and then tore off their tiny wings, he killed the birds, and broke the chairs, and threw the kitten down the stairs; and oh! far worse than all beside, he whipped his mary, till she cried. the trough was full, and faithful tray came out to drink one sultry day; he wagged his tail, and wet his lip, when cruel fred snatched up a whip, and whipped poor tray till he was sore, and kicked and whipped him more and more: at this, good tray grew very red, and growled, and bit him till he bled; then you should only have been by, to see how fred did scream and cry! so frederick had to go to bed: his leg was very sore and red! the doctor came, and shook his head, and made a very great to-do, and gave him nasty physic too. but good dog tray is happy now; he has no time to say "bow-wow!" he seats himself in frederick's chair and laughs to see the nice things there: the soup he swallows, sup by sup- and eats the pies and puddings up. the dreadful story of harriet and the matches it almost makes me cry to tell what foolish harriet befell. mamma and nurse went out one day and left her all alone at play. now, on the table close at hand, a box of matches chanced to stand; and kind mamma and nurse had told her, that, if she touched them, they would scold her. but harriet said: "oh, what a pity! for, when they burn, it is so pretty; they crackle so, and spit, and flame: mamma, too, often does the same." the pussy-cats heard this, and they began to hiss, and stretch their claws, and raise their paws; "me-ow," they said, "me-ow, me-o, you'll burn to death, if you do so." but harriet would not take advice: she lit a match, it was so nice! it crackled so, it burned so clear- exactly like the picture here. she jumped for joy and ran about and was too pleased to put it out. the pussy-cats saw this and said: "oh, naughty, naughty miss!" and stretched their claws, and raised their paws: "'tis very, very wrong, you know, me-ow, me-o, me-ow, me-o, you will be burnt, if you do so." and see! oh, what dreadful thing! the fire has caught her apron-string; her apron burns, her arms, her hair- she burns all over everywhere. then how the pussy-cats did mew- what else, poor pussies, could they do? they screamed for help, 'twas all in vain! so then they said: "we'll scream again; make haste, make haste, me-ow, me-o, she'll burn to death; we told her so." so she was burnt, with all her clothes, and arms, and hands, and eyes, and nose; till she had nothing more to lose except her little scarlet shoes; and nothing else but these was found among her ashes on the ground. and when the good cats sat beside the smoking ashes, how they cried! "me-ow, me-oo, me-ow, me-oo, what will mamma and nursey do?" their tears ran down their cheeks so fast, they made a little pond at last. the story of the inky boys as he had often done before, the woolly-headed black-a-moor one nice fine summer's day went out to see the shops, and walk about; and, as he found it hot, poor fellow, he took with him his green umbrella, then edward, little noisy wag, ran out and laughed, and waved his flag; and william came in jacket trim, and brought his wooden hoop with him; and arthur, too, snatched up his toys and joined the other naughty boys. so, one and all set up a roar, and laughed and hooted more and more, and kept on singing,--only think!- "oh, blacky, you're as black as ink!" now tall agrippa lived close by- so tall, he almost touched the sky; he had a mighty inkstand, too, in which a great goose-feather grew; he called out in an angry tone "boys, leave the black-a-moor alone! for, if he tries with all his might, he cannot change from black to white." but, ah! they did not mind a bit what great agrippa said of it; but went on laughing, as before, and hooting at the black-a-moor. then great agrippa foams with rage- look at him on this very page! he seizes arthur, seizes ned, takes william by his little head; and they may scream and kick and call, into the ink he dips them all; into the inkstand, one, two, three, till they are black as black can be; turn over now, and you shall see. see, there they are, and there they run! the black-a-moor enjoys the fun. they have been made as black as crows, quite black all over, eyes and nose, and legs, and arms, and heads, and toes, and trousers, pinafores, and toys- the silly little inky boys! because they set up such a roar, and teased the harmless black-a-moor. the story of the man that went out shooting this is the man that shoots the hares; this is the coat he always wears: with game-bag, powder-horn, and gun he's going out to have some fun. he finds it hard, without a pair of spectacles, to shoot the hare. the hare sits snug in leaves and grass, and laughs to see the green man pass. now, as the sun grew very hot, and he a heavy gun had got, he lay down underneath a tree and went to sleep, as you may see. and, while he slept like any top, the little hare came, hop, hop, hop, took gun and spectacles, and then on her hind legs went off again. the green man wakes and sees her place the spectacles upon her face; and now she's trying all she can to shoot the sleepy, green-coat man. he cries and screams and runs away; the hare runs after him all day and hears him call out everywhere: "help! fire! help! the hare! the hare!" at last he stumbled at the well, head over ears, and in he fell. the hare stopped short, took aim and, hark! bang went the gun--she missed her mark! the poor man's wife was drinking up her coffee in her coffee-cup; the gun shot cup and saucer through; "oh dear!" cried she; "what shall i do?" there lived close by the cottage there the hare's own child, the little hare; and while she stood upon her toes, the coffee fell and burned her nose. "oh dear!" she cried, with spoon in hand, "such fun i do not understand." the story of little suck-a-thumb one day mamma said "conrad dear, i must go out and leave you here. but mind now, conrad, what i say, don't suck your thumb while i'm away. the great tall tailor always comes to little boys who suck their thumbs; and ere they dream what he's about, he takes his great sharp scissors out, and cuts their thumbs clean off--and then, you know, they never grow again." mamma had scarcely turned her back, the thumb was in, alack! alack! the door flew open, in he ran, the great, long, red-legged scissor-man. oh! children, see! the tailor's come and caught out little suck-a-thumb. snip! snap! snip! the scissors go; and conrad cries out "oh! oh! oh!" snip! snap! snip! they go so fast, that both his thumbs are off at last. mamma comes home: there conrad stands, and looks quite sad, and shows his hands; "ah!" said mamma, "i knew he'd come to naughty little suck-a-thumb." the story of augustus who would not have any soup augustus was a chubby lad; fat ruddy cheeks augustus had: and everybody saw with joy the plump and hearty, healthy boy. he ate and drank as he was told, and never let his soup get cold. but one day, one cold winter's day, he screamed out "take the soup away! o take the nasty soup away! i won't have any soup today." next day, now look, the picture shows how lank and lean augustus grows! yet, though he feels so weak and ill, the naughty fellow cries out still "not any soup for me, i say: o take the nasty soup away! i _won't_ have any soup today." the third day comes: oh what a sin! to make himself so pale and thin. yet, when the soup is put on table, he screams, as loud as he is able, "not any soup for me, i say: o take the nasty soup away! i won't have any soup today." look at him, now the fourth day's come! he scarcely weighs a sugar-plum; he's like a little bit of thread, and, on the fifth day, he was--dead! the story of fidgety philip "let me see if philip can be a little gentleman; let me see if he is able to sit still for once at table": thus papa bade phil behave; and mamma looked very grave. but fidgety phil, he won't sit still; he wriggles, and giggles, and then, i declare, swings backwards and forwards, and tilts up his chair, just like any rocking horse- "philip! i am getting cross!" see the naughty, restless child growing still more rude and wild, till his chair falls over quite. philip screams with all his might, catches at the cloth, but then that makes matters worse again. down upon the ground they fall, glasses, plates, knives, forks, and all. how mamma did fret and frown, when she saw them tumbling down! and papa made such a face! philip is in sad disgrace. where is philip, where is he? fairly covered up you see! cloth and all are lying on him; he has pulled down all upon him. what a terrible to-do! dishes, glasses, snapt in two! here a knife, and there a fork! philip, this is cruel work. table all so bare, and ah! poor papa, and poor mamma look quite cross, and wonder how they shall have their dinner now. the story of johnny head-in-air as he trudged along to school, it was always johnny's rule to be looking at the sky and the clouds that floated by; but what just before him lay, in his way, johnny never thought about; so that every one cried out "look at little johnny there, little johnny head-in-air!" running just in johnny's way came a little dog one day; johnny's eyes were still astray up on high, in the sky; and he never heard them cry "johnny, mind, the dog is nigh!" bump! dump! down they fell, with such a thump, dog and johnny in a lump! once, with head as high as ever, johnny walked beside the river. johnny watched the swallows trying which was cleverest at flying. oh! what fun! johnny watched the bright round sun going in and coming out; this was all he thought about. so he strode on, only think! to the river's very brink, where the bank was high and steep, and the water very deep; and the fishes, in a row, stared to see him coming so. one step more! oh! sad to tell! headlong in poor johnny fell. and the fishes, in dismay, wagged their tails and swam away. there lay johnny on his face, with his nice red writing-case; but, as they were passing by, two strong men had heard him cry; and, with sticks, these two strong men hooked poor johnny out again. oh! you should have seen him shiver when they pulled him from the river. he was in a sorry plight! dripping wet, and such a fright! wet all over, everywhere, clothes, and arms, and face, and hair: johnny never will forget what it is to be so wet. and the fishes, one, two, three, are come back again, you see; up they came the moment after, to enjoy the fun and laughter. each popped out his little head, and, to tease poor johnny, said "silly little johnny, look, you have lost your writing-book!" the story of flying robert when the rain comes tumbling down in the country or the town, all good little girls and boys stay at home and mind their toys. robert thought, "no, when it pours, it is better out of doors." rain it did, and in a minute bob was in it. here you see him, silly fellow, underneath his red umbrella. what a wind! oh! how it whistles through the trees and flowers and thistles! it has caught his red umbrella: now look at him, silly fellow- up he flies to the skies. no one heard his screams and cries; through the clouds the rude wind bore him, and his hat flew on before him. soon they got to such a height, they were nearly out of sight. and the hat went up so high, that it nearly touched the sky. no one ever yet could tell where they stopped, or where they fell: only this one thing is plain, bob was never seen again! note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original lovely illustrations. see 19915-h.htm or 19915-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/9/9/1/19915/19915-h/19915-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/9/9/1/19915/19915-h.zip) slovenly betsy by dr. henry hoffman with numerous illustrations in color from the original designs by walter hayn [illustration] applewood books bedford, massachusetts this edition of slovenly betsy was originally published in 1911. slovenly betsy betsy would never wash herself when from her bed she rose, but just as quickly as she could she hurried on her clothes. to keep her clothes all nice and clean miss betsy took no pains; in holes her stockings always were, her dresses filled with stains. sometimes she went day after day and never combed her hair, while little feathers from her bed stuck on it here and there. the schoolboys, when they betsy saw, would point her out, and cry, "oh! betsy, what a sight you are! oh! slovenly betsy, fie!" one rainy day her parents went some pleasant friends to meet. they took betsy along with them, all dressed so clean and neat. nice little boys and girls were there, with whom our betsy played, until of playing she grew tired, and to the garden strayed. out in the rain she danced awhile, but 'twas not long before flat down she tumbled in the mud, and her best clothes she tore. [illustration] oh! what a sight she was, indeed, when in the room she came; the guests all loudly laughed at her, and she almost died with shame. she turned, and to her home she ran, and then, as here you see, she washed her clothes, and since has been as neat as she could be. [illustration] phoebe ann, the proud girl this phoebe ann was a very proud girl, her nose had always an upward curl. [illustration] she thought herself better than all others beside, and beat even the peacock himself in pride. [illustration] she thought the earth was so dirty and brown, that never, by chance, would she look down; and she held up her head in the air so high that her neck began stretching by and by. it stretched and it stretched; and it grew so long that her parents thought something must be wrong. it stretched and stretched, and they soon began to look up with fear at their phoebe ann. [illustration] they prayed her to stop her upward gaze, but phoebe kept on in her old proud ways, until her neck had grown so long and spare that her head was more than her neck could bear- and it bent to the ground, like a willow tree, and brought down the head of this proud phoebe, until whenever she went out a walk to take, the boys would shout, "here comes a snake!" [illustration] her head got to be so heavy to drag on, that she had to put it on a little wagon. so don't, my friends, hold your head too high, or your neck may stretch, too, by and by. [illustration] the dreadful story of pauline and the matches mamma and nurse went out one day, and left pauline alone at play; around the room she gayly sprang, clapp'd her hands, and danced, and sang. now, on the table close at hand, a box of matches chanced to stand, and kind mamma and nurse had told her, that if she touched them they would scold her. but pauline said, "oh, what a pity! for when they burn it is so pretty; they crackle so, and spit, and flame; and mamma often burns the same. i'll only light a match or two as i have often seen my mother do." [illustration] when minz and maunz, the cats, heard this, they said, "oh, naughty, naughty miss. me-ow!" they cried, "me-ow, me-o, you'll burn to death, if you do so. mamma forbids it, don't you know?" but pauline would not take advice, she lit a match, it was so nice! it crackled so, it burned so clear,- exactly like the picture here. she jumped for joy and ran about, and was too pleased to put it out. [illustration] when minz and maunz, the cats, saw this, they said, "oh, naughty, naughty miss!" and rais'd their paws and stretch'd their claws; "'tis very, very wrong, you know; me-ow, me-o, me-ow, me-o! you will be burnt if you do so. mamma forbids it, don't you know?" now see! oh, see! a dreadful thing! the fire has caught her apron string: her apron burns, her arms, her hair; she burns all over, everywhere. [illustration] then how the pussy cats did mew, what else, poor pussies, could they do? they screamed for help, 'twas all in vain, so then they said, "we'll scream again. make haste, make haste! me-ow! me-o! she'll burn to death--we told her so." pauline was burnt with all her clothes, and arms and hands, and eyes and nose; till she had nothing more to lose except her little scarlet shoes; and nothing else but these was found among her ashes on the ground. and when the good cats sat beside the smoking ashes, how they cried, "me-ow, me-o! me-ow, me-oo! what will mamma and nursey do?" their tears ran down their cheeks so fast they made a little pond at last. [illustration] what happened to lazy charlotte "here, charlotte," said mamma one day. "these stockings knit while i'm away, and should you fail, be sure you'll find mamma is strict, although she's kind." [illustration] but charlotte took a lazy fit, and did not feel inclined to knit; and soon upon the ground let fall needles, and worsted, hose, and all. "i shall not knit," said she, "not i; at least not now, but by and by;" then stretched, and yawned, and rubbed her eyes, like sluggards, when 'tis time to rise. [illustration] but when mamma came home, and found the work all strewed upon the ground, quoth she, "you will not knit, and so to school barefooted you shall go." this put poor charlotte in a fright. and though she knew it served her right, she wept, and begged, and prayed; but still she could not change her mother's will. [illustration] to school, where all were spruce and neat, poor charlotte went with naked feet. some showed their pity, some their pride, while charlotte hid her face and cried. [illustration] the cry-baby "oh, why are you always so bitterly crying? you surely will make yourself blind. what reason on earth for such sobbing and sighing, i pray, can you possibly find? there is no real sorrow, there's nothing distressing, to make you thus grieve and lament. ah! no; you are just at this moment possessing whatever should make you content. [illustration] now do, my dear daughter, give over this weeping," such was a kind mother's advice. but all was in vain; for you see she's still keeping her handkerchief up to her eyes. [illustration] but now she removes it, and oh! she discloses a countenance full of dismay; for she certainly feels, or at least she supposes her eyesight is going away. she is not mistaken, her sight is departing; she knows it and sorrows the more; then rubs her sore eyes, to relieve them from smarting, and makes them still worse than before. [illustration] and now the poor creature is cautiously crawling and feeling her way all around; and now from their sockets her eyeballs are falling; see, there they are down on the ground. my children, from such an example take warning, and happily live while you may; and say to yourselves, when you rise in the morning, "i'll try to be cheerful today." [illustration] the story of romping polly "i pray you now, my little child," thus once a kind old lady spoke to her niece in accents mild, "do try to be more steady. i know that you will often see rude boys push, drive, and hurry; but little girls should never be all in a heat and flurry." [illustration] while thus the lady gave advice and lectured little polly, to see her stand with downcast eyes, you'd think she'd owned her folly. she did, and many a promise made; but when her aunt departed, forgetting all, the silly maid off to the playground started. [illustration] now see what frolic and what fun, the little folks are after; away they jump, away they run, with many a shout and laughter. [illustration] but fools who never will be taught, except by some disaster, soon find their knowledge dearly bought, and of a cruel master. this little girl, who, spite of all her good old aunt had spoken, would romp about, had such a fall that her poor leg was broken. [illustration] in sore amaze, those standing by then placed her on a barrow; but oh! to hear her scream and cry their souls it sure did harrow. [illustration] see how her brother bursts in tears, when told the dreadful story; and see how carefully he bears the limb all wet and gory. [illustration] full many a week, screwed up in bed, she lingered sad and weary; [illustration] and went on crutches, it is said, until she died so dreary. [illustration] the story of a dirty child the little girls whom now you'll see were sisters in one family; and both enjoyed an equal share of a kind mother's anxious care. this one in neatness took a pride, and oft the brush and comb applied; [illustration] oft washed her face, and oft her hands; see, now, thus occupied she stands. [illustration] the other--oh! i grieve to say how she would scream and run away, soon as she saw her mother stand, with water by, and sponge in hand. she'd kick and stamp, and jump about, and set up such an awful shout, that one who did not know the child, would say she must be going wild. [illustration] in consequence it came to pass, while one was quite a pretty lass, and many a fond admirer gained, and many a little gift obtained; [illustration] the other, viewed with general scorn, was left forsaken and forlorn; for no one can endure to see a child all dirt and misery. behold how needful 'tis that we should clean in dress and person be; or else, believe me, 'tis in vain we hope affection to obtain. [illustration] a sloven will be always viewed with pity by the wise and good; while ev'n the vicious and the base behold with scorn a dirty face. [illustration] envious minnie now minnie was a pretty girl, her hair so gracefully did curl; she had a slender figure, too, and rosy cheeks, and eyes of blue. and yet, with all those beauties rare, those angel eyes and curly hair, oh! many, many faults had she, the worst of which was jealousy. when on the brilliant christmas tree st. nicholas hung his gifts so free, the envious minnie could not bear with any one those gifts to share. and when her sisters' birthdays came minnie (it must be told with shame) would envy every pretty thing which dear mamma to them would bring. [illustration] sometimes great tears rolled from her eyes, sometimes she pierced the air with cries, for hours together she would fret because their toys she could not get. ah, then! how changed this pretty child, no longer amiable and mild. that fairy form and smiling face lost all their sprightliness and grace. her tender mother often sighed, and to reform her daughter tried. "oh! minnie, minnie," she would say, "quite yellow you will turn some day." [illustration] now came the merry christmas feast; st. nicholas brought to e'en the least such pretty presents, rich and rare, but all the best for minnie were. now to her little sister bess st. nicholas brought a yellow dress; this minnie longed for (envious child), and snatched it from her sister mild. then all in tears did bessie run to tell her mother what was done. [illustration] then minnie ran triumphantly to try the dress on, as you see. but minnie was not satisfied, she pouted, fretted, sulked, and cried; sisters and brothers had no rest,- she vowed their presents were the best, and springing quickly to the glass, what saw she there? alas! alas! oh! what a sad, such deep disgrace! she found she had a yellow face. "ah, me!" she cried, now, in despair, "where are my rosy cheeks--oh, where?" exclaimed her mother, "now you see the punishment of jealousy." [illustration] the little glutton oh! how this mary loved to eat,- it was her chief delight; she would have something, sour or sweet, to munch from morn till night. she to the pantry daily stole, and slyly she would take sugar, and plums, and sweetmeats, too, and apples, nuts, and cake. [illustration] her mother mary oft reproved, but, ah! it did no good; munch, nibble, chew, from morn to night, the little glutton would. [illustration] one day, upon some bee-hives near she chanced to cast her eyes; "how nice that honey there must taste!" she cried, and off she flies. on tiptoe now the hives she nears, close up to them she creeps, and through the little window panes quite cautiously she peeps. "oh, dear! how good it looks!" she cries, as she the honey sees; "i must, i will, indeed, have some; it cannot hurt the bees." and then a hive she gently lifts,- oh, foolish, foolish child,- down, down it falls--out swarm the bees buzzing with fury wild. with fright she shrieks, and tries to run, but ah! 'tis all in vain; upon her light the angry bees, and make her writhe with pain. [illustration] four weeks and more did mary lie upon her little bed, and, ah! instead of honey, she on medicine was fed. her parents grieved so much at first their child so sick to see; but once more well, with joy they found her cured of gluttony. [illustration] sophie spoilall i never saw a girl or boy so prone as sophie to destroy whate'er she laid her hands upon, though tough as wood, or hard as stone; with sophie it was all the same, no matter who the thing might claim, no matter were it choice or rare, for naught did the destroyer care. her playthings shared the common lot; though hers they were, she spared them not, her dolls she oft tore limb from limb, to gratify a foolish whim. [illustration] "fie!" said her mother, "don't you know, that if you use your playthings so, kriss kringle will in wrath refuse to give you what you might abuse? remember, how in times gone by, you've always found a rich supply of christmas presents; but beware, you'll find no more another year." [illustration] you'd think such words would surely tend to make this child her ways amend. but no; she still her course pursued, regardless of advice so good. but when her mother sees 'tis plain that all her arguments are vain, says she, "since i have done my best, i'll let experience do the rest." meantime the season of the year for christmas gifts was drawing near, and sophie doubted not that she an ample store of them would see. at length the happy hour was come. the children, led into the room, behold, with wonder and surprise, three tables set before their eyes. one is for nelly, one for ned, and both with choicest treasures spread. [illustration] [illustration] more goops and how not to be them by gelett burgess [illustration] _books by gelett burgess_ vivette; or the memoirs of the romance association. small, maynard & co., boston. 152 pp. 8vo. $1.25 a gage of youth; poems, chiefly from the "lark." 58 pp. small 8vo. small, maynard & co., boston. $1.00 the romance of the commonplace; a collection of essays upon the romantic view of life. 152 pp. small 4to. elder & shepard, san francisco. $1.50 the lively city o' ligg; a cycle of modern fairy tales for city children. with 53 illustrations (8 in color) by the author. frederick a. stokes co., new york. 210 pp. small 4to. $1.50. boards, $1.00 the burgess nonsense book; being a complete collection of the humorous masterpieces of gelett burgess, esq. with 196 illustrations by the author. 239 pp. small 4to. frederick a. stokes co., new york. cloth, $2.00 net. boards, $1.25 goops, and how to be them; a manual of manners for polite infants. with 90 illustrations by the author. frederick a. stokes co., new york. 88 pp. 5th edition. small 4to. $1.50 more goops, and how not to be them; a manual of manners for impolite infants. with 90 illustrations by the author. 88 pp. small 4to. frederick a. stokes co., new york. $1.50 more goops and how not to be them a manual of manners for impolite infants depicting the characteristics of many naughty and thoughtless children with instructive illustrations by gelett burgess new york frederick a. stokes company publishers copyright, 1903, by gelett burgess _published september, 1903_ * * * * * [illustration: (ex libris)] [illustration] [illustration: contents] _contents_ introduction goop! goop! goop! window-smoochers visiting a low trick picking and stealing when to go loyalty "ain't" indolence nell the nibbler the law of hospitality justice the flower hospital a puzzle puppy goops frankness exaggeration the duty of the strong noise! noise! noise! walking with papa stealing rides piano torture untidy goops at table a goop party how to eat soup inquisitiveness baby's apology don't be good in the street write right! sick furniture wet feet borrowed plumes dress quickly! the goop picnic danger! book-manners the reason why poor mother! in goop attire cheating impossible [illustration] [illustration: introduction] _introduction_ children, although you might expect my manners to be quite correct (for since i fancy i can teach, i ought to practice what i preach), 'tis true that i have often braved my mother's wrath, and misbehaved! and almost every single rule i broke, before i went to school! for that is how i learned the way to teach you etiquette to-day. so when you chance to take a look at all the maxims in the book, you'll see that most of them are true, i found them out, and so will you, for if you are as goop derided, you may perhaps reform, as i did! [illustration] [illustration: window-smoochers] _window-smoochers_ little goops are marking on the window pane; i forbid, in vain! noses, when they're greasy, leave a smooch so easy! rub it out again! i shall have to scold them, for i've often told them, kindly, to refrain! [illustration] [illustration: a low trick] _a low trick_ the meanest trick i ever knew was one i know _you_ never do. i saw a goop once try to do it, and there was nothing funny to it. he pulled a chair from under me as i was sitting down; but he was sent to bed, and rightly, too. it was a _horrid_ thing to do! [illustration] [illustration: when to go] _when to go_ when you go a-calling, never stay too late; you will wear your welcome out if you hesitate! just before they're tired of you, just before they yawn, before they think you are a goop, and wish that you were gone, while they're laughing with you, while they like you so, while they want to keep you,- _that's_ the time to go! [illustration] [illustration: "ain't"] _"ain't"_ now "ain't" is a word that is very absurd to use for an "isn't" or "aren't." ask teacher about it: she'll say, "do without it!" i wish you would see if you can't! [illustration] [illustration: nell the nibbler] _nell the nibbler_ she ate some chocolate drops at 1, at 2, she thought she'd take a little jelly and a bun; at 3, some frosted cake. at 4, she nibbled at a roll; at 5, a doughnut spied, and ate it (all except the hole), and then some cookies tried. at 6, she didn't feel quite right, and didn't care for dinner. she said she had no appetite, with so much goop-food in her! [illustration] [illustration: justice] _justice_ whenever brother's sent to bed, or punished, do not go and peer at him and jeer at him, and say, "i told you so!" nor should you try to make him laugh when he has been so bad; let him confess his naughtiness before you both are glad! [illustration] [illustration: a puzzle] _a puzzle_ there are about a thousand things i'm not allowed to do; most everything i'm fondest of i'm told is wrong--are you? they say, "_please don't do that, my child!_" they say, "_you mustn't, dear!_" i hope sometime i'll learn what's right, for now it seems so queer! [illustration] [illustration: frankness] _frankness_ when you are talking, i expect you'd better hold your head erect! please look me squarely in the eye unless you're telling me a lie. for if you crouch and look askance, regarding me with sidelong glance, i'll think it is a goop i see who is _afraid_ to look at me! [illustration] [illustration: the duty of the strong] _the duty of the strong_ you who are the oldest, you who are the tallest, don't you think you ought to help the youngest and the smallest? you who are the strongest, you who are the quickest, don't you think you ought to help the weakest and the sickest? never mind the trouble, help them all you can; be a little woman! be a little man! [illustration] [illustration: walking with papa] _walking with papa_ "won't you walk a little farther?" said a goop to his papa; "it is really quite delightful, and we haven't travelled far; wont you walk a little farther, there's a house i'd like to see! won't you walk a little farther, till we reach that cherry-tree?" "won't you carry me? i'm tired!" whined a goop to his papa; "and my feet are sore and weary, and we've gone so _very_ far! won't you carry me? i'm tired! and i _can't_ walk back alone! won't you carry me? i'm tired!" and the goop began to groan. [illustration] [illustration: piano torture] _piano torture_ pianos are considered toys by goops, and naughty girls and boys; they pound upon the keys, they lift the cover up, on top, to see the little jiggers hop, and both the pedals squeeze! but instruments so rich and fine (especially if they're not mine) i ought to treat with care; so when my elder sister plays she'll find it is in tune always, nor injured anywhere! [illustration] [illustration: at table] _at table_ why is it goops must always wish to touch _each_ apple on the dish? why do they never neatly fold their napkins until they are told? why do they play with food, and bite such awful mouthfuls? is it right? why do they tilt back in their chairs? _because they're goops!_ so no one cares! [illustration] [illustration: how to eat soup] _how to eat soup_ whenever you are eating soup remember not to be a goop! and if you think to say this rhyme, perhaps 'twill help you every time: _like little boats that put to sea, i push my spoon away from me; i do not tilt my dish, nor scrape the last few drops, like hungry ape!_ _like little boats, that, almost filled, come back without their cargoes spilled, my spoon sails gently to my lips, unloading from the side, like ships._ [illustration] [illustration: baby's apology] _baby's apology_ dear little seed, queer little seed, tucked into bed in the garden, why don't you grow? why, don't you know baby is asking your pardon? out, little seed! sprout, little seed! baby did wrong without knowing! hoping for you, groping for you, to see if you _really_ were growing. break, little seed! wake, little seed! baby will watch and not harm you. everything's bright, everything's right, nothing is here to alarm you. dress, little seed! yes, little seed, fold your green leaflets around you; _there_, little seed! fair little seed, baby's _so_ glad he has found you! [illustration] [illustration: in the street] _in the street_ peelings on the sidewalk, apple-cores and all, kick them in the gutter; save some one a fall! barrel hoops, glass, and cans, and wires in the street, kick them in the gutter; you'll save some horse's feet! [illustration] [illustration: sick furniture] _sick furniture_ sitting on the table, standing on the chairs, that's the way the legs are broken and the cushion tears! how'd you like to pay the bill for varnish and repairs? [illustration] [illustration: borrowed plumes] _borrowed plumes_ don't try on the wraps, the bonnets and caps of company coming to call! admire, if you please, but garments like these should always feel safe in the hall! [illustration] [illustration: the goop picnic] _the goop picnic_ they came to the best sort of place for a rest, on the grass, with the trees overhead, they sat down in a bunch and they opened their lunch, and they had a be-autiful spread! and when they were done, and they'd had all their fun, they proved they were goops, or were blind; for they picked up their wraps and they left all their scraps for the _next_ picnic party to find! [illustration] [illustration: book manners] _book-manners_ if you scribble on your books, how disgustable it looks! here a word, and there a scrawl, silly pictures over all! take a paper, or a slate, if you want to decorate! [illustration] [illustration: poor mother!] _poor mother!_ oh! isn't it shocking! just look at your stocking! just look at your brand new boots! your waist is all torn and your trousers are worn- just _look_ at the holes in your suits! your father is working all day, without shirking, to pay for the clothes that you wear; your mother is mending all day, and attending to you, with the kindest of care. and so, while you're playing, think of father, who's paying, and mother, who's working so hard; while you kneel on your knees, or climb up the trees, or make your mud pies in the yard! [illustration] [illustration: cheating] _cheating_ i thought i saw a little goop who didn't pay his fare; i looked again; the passengers were gazing at him, there. "they think that he's a thief!" i said; "i wonder does he care?" [illustration] [illustration: goop! goop! goop!] _goop! goop! goop!_ goop! goop! goop! i wish you'd wash your face! goop! goop! goop! your hands are a disgrace! goop! goop! goop! put things back in their place! i wish you were polite, instead of a goop! goop! goop! [illustration] [illustration: visiting] _visiting_ when a goop goes out to visit, 't isn't very pleasant, is it, to hear him ask his friends for things to eat? and to hear the little sinner say he wants to stay to dinner is a piece of impoliteness hard to beat! "_mother said that i could stay_ _if you asked me!_" is the way that a goop will make them ask him to remain. it is better to be slighted than to stay when not invited, for they _never_ ask a goop to come again! [illustration] [illustration: picking and stealing] _picking and stealing_ when you are fetching bread, i trust you never nibble at the crust when in the kitchen, do you linger and pinch the cookies with your finger? or do you peck the frosted cake? don't do it, please, for mother's sake! [illustration] [illustration: loyalty] _loyalty_ mother's found your mischief out! what are you going to do? cry and sulk, or kick and shout? tell your mother all about brother's mischief, too? or, take your punishment, and say, "i'll be better, now!" never mind the horrid way brother treated you, at play; don't tell it, anyhow! it is the goops, who have no shame, who say, "_'twas some one else to blame!_" [illustration] [illustration: indolence] _indolence_ there was a goop who lay in bed till half-past eight, the sleepy-head! he couldn't find his stockings, for he'd thrown them somewhere on the floor! he couldn't find his reading-book; he had forgotten where to look! his breakfast grew so very cold, this lazy goop began to scold; and then he blamed his mother, kind! "_you made me late to school_!" he whined. [illustration] [illustration: the law of hospitality] _the law of hospitality_ there is a very simple rule that every one should know; you may not hear of it in school, but everywhere you go, in every land where people dwell, and men are good and true, you'll find they understand it well, and so i'll tell it you: _to every one who gives me food, or shares his home with me, i owe a debt of gratitude, and i must loyal be. i may not laugh at him, or say of him a word unkind; his friendliness i must repay, and to his faults be blind!_ [illustration] [illustration: the flower hospital] _the flower hospital_ i dreamed i found a sunlit room filled with a delicate perfume, where, moaning their sweet lives away, a thousand lovely flowers lay. they drooped, so pale, and wan, and weak, with hardly strength enough to speak, with stems so crushed and leaves so torn it was too dreadful to be borne! and one white lily raised her head from off her snowy flower bed. and sighed, "_please tell the children, oh! they should not treat the flowers so! they plucked us when we were so gay, and then they threw us all away to wither in the sun all day! we all must fade, but we'll forgive if they'll let other flowers live_!" [illustration] [illustration: puppy goops] _puppy goops_ candy in the cushions of the easy-chair; raisins in the sofa- how did they get there? the little goop who's greedy does it every day, like a little puppy, hiding bones away! [illustration] [illustration: exaggeration] _exaggeration_ don't try to tell a story to beat the one you've heard; for if you try, you're apt to lie, and _that_ would be absurd! don't try to be more funny than any one in school; for if you're not, they'll laugh a lot, and think you are a fool! [illustration] [illustration: noise! noise! noise!] _noise! noise! noise!_ do you slam the door? do you drag your feet? making noise enough for four hundred thousand goops, or more, tearing up the street? clattering down the stairs, storming through the hall, pounding floors, upsetting chairs, do you think your father cares for your noise, at all? [illustration] [illustration: stealing rides] _stealing rides_ i thought i saw a little goop who hung behind a cart; i looked again. he'd fallen off! it gave me _such_ a start! "if he were killed, some day," i said, "'twould break his mother's heart!" [illustration] [illustration: untidy goops] _untidy goops_ i think you are a goop, because you never shut your bureau drawers, you do not close the door! you leave your water in the bowl, you put your peelings in the coal! i've told you _that_ before! [illustration] [illustration: a goop party] _a goop party_ "please come to my party!" said jenny to prue; "i'm going to have willy, and nelly, and you; i'm going to have candy and cake and ice-cream, we'll play _hunt-the-slipper_, we'll laugh and we'll scream. we'll dress up in caps, we'll have stories and tricks, and you won't have to go till a quarter past six!" but alas! when she mentioned her party, at tea, her mother said, "no! it can't possibly be!" so jane had to go and explain to her friends, and that is how many a goop party ends! just speak to your mother _before_ you invite, and then it's more likely to happen all right! [illustration] [illustration: inquisitiveness] _inquisitiveness_ i gave a letter to a goop to take to mrs. bird; and what d'you think he went and did? he read it, every word! now, isn't that the rudest thing that you have ever heard? why, he would peep through keyholes, and listen at the door! and open parcels, just to see what came from every store! now, have you ever _ever_ heard of such a goop before? [illustration] [illustration: don't be good] _don't be good_ just because you want to go to the circus, or the show; but, when all your fun is o'er, be as good as you were before! [illustration: don't be bad] _don't be bad_ just as long as you dare to be, because your mother doesn't see. do not wait for her to scold, but be just as good as gold! [illustration] [illustration: write right!] _write right!_ if you were writing with your nose, you'd _have_ to curl up, i suppose, and lay your head upon your hand; but now, i cannot understand, for you are writing with your pen! so sit erect, and smile again! you need not scowl because you write, nor hold your fingers _quite_ so tight! and if you gnaw the holder so, they'll take you for a goop, you know! [illustration] [illustration: wet feet] _wet feet_ down the street together, in the rainy weather, went a pair of little boys along; one of them went straying in the gutters playing, doing all his mother said was wrong; one of them went dashing into puddles splashing, under dripping eaves that soaked him through; one of them avoided all the other boy did, dodging all the slimy, slushy goo. one of them grew chilly; said he felt so ill he knew he'd caught a cold, and coughed a lot! the other was so warm he said he _liked_ it stormy! which of them was goop, and which was not? [illustration] [illustration: dress quickly!] _dress quickly!_ all your life you'll have to dress, every single day (unless you should happen to be sick), why not learn to do it quick? hang your clothes the proper way, so you'll find them fresh next day; treat them with a little care, fold them neatly on a chair; so, without a bit of worry, you can dress in quite a hurry. think of the slovenly goops, before you strew your clothing on the floor! [illustration] [illustration: danger!] _danger!_ ink, ink! what do you think! you're sure to be stained, if you play with the ink! you're sure to get black, if you play with the ink-well, before you begin it, just stop once, and think well! all over your fingers, all over your face, all over your clothes, and all over the place! your mother'll be angry, your father'll say, "_there! i said not to touch it; you said you'd take care!_" when goops are so mischievous, they have to drink forty-four dozen bottles of raven black ink! [illustration] [illustration: the reason why] _the reason why_ everybody liked ezekiel. why? you could scarcely find his equal. why? if he made a mistake, he said he was wrong; if he went on an errand, he wasn't gone long; he never would bully, although he was strong! everybody hated mello. why? he was such a surly fellow. why? if you asked him for candy, he'd hide his away; he never would play what the rest wished to play; he would say _horrid_ words that he oughtn't to say! [illustration] [illustration: in goop attire] _in goop attire_ i'll make you a dress of a towel, and trim it all over with soap, with a sponge for a hat and a wet one, at that! and _then_ you'll be happy, i hope! you may act like a goop, if you please, in garments constructed like these! but now, while you're dressed up so neatly, don't wipe off your hands on your frock! the smooching that lingers when you wipe off your fingers, will give your dear mother a shock! the result will be even more shocking, if you wipe off your shoes on your stocking! [illustration] [illustration: impossible!] _impossible!_ there once was a goop (_it is hard to believe such unpleasant behavior of you!_) who always was wiping his nose on his sleeve; _i hope that this goop wasn't you!_ he always was spitting (for fun, i suppose), _i couldn't believe, it of you!_ and putting his fingers up into his nose; _i know that this goop wasn't you!_ [illustration] transcriber's notes: italic text is denoted by _underscores_. small caps replaced with all caps. * * * * * by enos a. mills your national parks. illustrated. the story of scotch. illustrated. the rocky mountain wonderland. illustrated. the story of a thousand-year pine. illustrated. in beaver world. illustrated. the spell of the rockies. illustrated. wild life on the rockies. illustrated. houghton mifflin company boston and new york the story of scotch [illustration: scotch and his master] the story of scotch. by enos a. mills _with illustrations from photographs by the author_ boston and new york houghton mifflin company _the riverside press cambridge_ copyright, 1909, 1911 and 1916, by enos a. mills all rights reserved _published september 1916_ to mary king sherman and john king sherman who knew and appreciated scotch preface scotch and i were companions through eight years. winter and summer we explored the rugged mountains of the continental divide. often we were cold; more often we were hungry. together we fought our way through blizzards and forest fires. never did he complain and at all times he showed remarkable intelligence and absolute fidelity. the thousands who have watched him play football by my cabin on the slope of long's peak and the other thousands who have read of his unusual experiences will be interested, i am sure, in this complete story of his life. i gave an account of scotch in my _wild life on the rockies_, and in _the spell of the rockies_ i related one of our winter experiences. these chapters and an article on him which i wrote for _country life in america_ are, together with additional matter, embodied in this little book. illustrations scotch and his master _frontispiece_ his first kennel 4 puppy scotch 8 chipmunks? 12 playing football 26 ready for a walk 32 the mountains in winter scotch on guard at the timber-line cabin 40 scotch near timber-line 54 the story of scotch i a famous collie and her five little puppies came into the possession of a swedish farmer of my acquaintance. for an unimportant and forgotten kindness which i had shown his children, he decided that i should have one of these promising puppies. to his delight i chose the "wisest one," wee "scotch," who afterwards gave pleasure to hundreds of people and who for eight years was a factor in my life. i carried little scotch all day long in my overcoat pocket as i rode through the mountains on the way to my cabin. his cheerful little face, his good behavior, and the bright way in which he poked his head out of my pocket, licked my hand, and looked at the scenery, completely won my heart before i had ridden an hour. we camped for the night by a dim road near a deserted ranch-house in the mountains. scotch was quiet during the long ride, but while i was lighting the camp-fire he climbed out of my overcoat and proceeded, puppy fashion, to explore the camp. after one bark at my pony he went over to make her acquaintance. he playfully smelled of each of her feet, gave a happy bark, and jumped up to touch her nose with his own. cricket, the pony, intently watched his performance with lowered head and finally nosed him in a friendly manner. i shut him up in a small abandoned cabin for the night. he at once objected and set up a terrible barking and howling, gnawing fiercely at the crack beneath the door and trying to tear his way out. fearing he would break his little puppy teeth, or possibly die from frantic and persistent efforts to be free, i concluded to release him from the cabin. my fears that he would run away if left free were groundless. he made his way to my saddle, which lay on the ground near by, crawled under it, turned round beneath it, thrust his little head from beneath the arch of the horn, and lay down with a look of contentment, and also with an air which said: "i'll take care of this saddle. i'd like to see any one touch it." and watch it he did. at midnight a cowboy came to my camp-fire. he had been thrown from his bronco and was making back to his outfit on foot. tiny scotch flew at him ferociously; never have i seen such faithful ferocity in a dog so small and young. i took him in my hands and assured him that the visitor was welcome, and in a moment little scotch and the cowboy were side by side gazing at the fire. on our arrival at my cabin he at once took possession of an old tub in a corner of the porch. this he liked, and it remained his kennel for a long time. here, protected from wind and rain, he was comfortable even in cold weather. [illustration: his first kennel] we were intimate from the start, and we lived most of the time apart from the world. i watched his development with satisfaction. he grew rapidly in size, strength, comprehension, and accomplishments. he was watchful and fearless through life. his first experience with the unfriendly side of life came from a burro. a prospector came by with one of these long-eared beasts. confiding scotch went out to play with the burro and was kicked. thenceforward he looked upon all burros with distrust, and every one that came near the cabin promptly and precipitously retreated before him like a boy before an aggressive bumblebee. the summer that scotch was growing up, i raised johnny, a jolly young grizzly bear. at first the smaller, johnny early became the larger. both these youngsters were keenly alert, playful, and inclined to be friendly. each, however, was a trifle suspicious of the other. unfortunately, i was away during the period in which a complete understanding between them could have been established and, as a result, there never came about the intimate companionship that really should have existed between these two highly developed animals; but their relations, though ever peculiar, were never strained. at times both had the freedom of the yard at once, and naturally they sometimes met while going to and fro. on these occasions each passed the other by as though unconscious of his presence. sometimes they lay at close range for an hour at a time, quietly, half-admiringly watching each other. a bone was used as a medium the few times they played together. each in turn guarded this bone while the other tried to take it away. this brought out from both a lively lot of striking, feinting, boxing, dodging, and grabbing, which usually ended in clinching and wrestling. in these vigorous, though good-natured mix-ups, it was johnny's idea to get in a few good bites on scotch's shaggy tail; while on the end of johnny's sensitive nose scotch landed slap after slap. scotch was an old-fashioned collie and had a face that was exceptionally expressive and pleasing. he was short-nosed, and his fine eyes were set wide apart. when grown he was a trifle larger than the average dog, and was surprisingly agile and powerful for his size. his coat was a shaggy, silky black, with feet, tip of tail, and breast of pure white. he was always well dressed and took good care of his coat and feet. daily he immersed himself in the cold waters of the brook, when it was not frozen, and he frequently lay in the water, lapping it and enjoying himself. [illustration: puppy scotch] i never knew of his killing anything, though often in the woods he merrily chased the lively, playful chipmunks. never, however, did he disturb bird or chipmunk in the yard around the cabin. often two or three chipmunks romped over him as he lay, with half-shut eyes, near the door. occasionally a bird hopped upon him, and frequently birds, chipmunks, and scotch ate together from the same bowl. scotch did but little barking. in the country most dogs bow-wow at strangers, and frequently make the night hideous with prolonged barking at far-off sounds or imaginary objects. in summer scotch allowed the scores of daily callers to come and go without a bark, but he reserved the right to announce, with a bark or two, the approach of the semi-occasional stranger who invaded our winter isolation. talking to animals appears to make them gentler and more responsive. scotch never tired of listening to me, and i often talked to him as if he were a child. he came to understand many of the words used. if i said "hatchet," he hastened to bring it; if "fire," he at once endeavored to discover where it was. cheerfully and intelligently he endeavored to help me, and early became efficient in driving cattle, horses, and burros. instinctively he was a "heeler," and with swift heel nips quickly awakened and gave directions to lazy or unwilling "critters." ii many of scotch's actions were beyond the scope of instinct. one day, when still young, he mastered a new situation by the use of his wits. while he was alone at the house, some frightened cattle smashed a fence about a quarter of a mile away and broke into the pasture. he was after them in an instant. from a mountain-side ledge above, i watched proceedings with a glass. the cattle were evidently excited by the smell of some animal and did not drive well. scotch ignored the two pasture gates, which were closed, and endeavored to hurry the cattle out through the break through which they had entered. after energetic encouragement, all but one went flying out through the break. this one alternated between stupidly running back and forth along the fence and trying to gore scotch. twice the animal had run into a corner by one of the gates, and his starting for the corner the third time apparently gave scotch an idea. he stopped heeling, raced for the gate, and, leaping up, bit at the handle of the sliding wooden bar that secured it. he repeated this biting and tearing at the handle until the bar slid and the gate swung open. after chasing the animal through, he lay down by the gate. [illustration: chipmunks?] when i came into view he attracted my attention with sharp barks and showed great delight when i closed the gate. after this, he led me to the break in the fence and then lay down. though i looked at him and asked, "what do you want done here?" he pretended not to hear. that was none of his business! he had much more individuality than most dogs. his reserve force and initiative usually enabled him to find a way and succeed with situations which could not be mastered in his old way. the gate-opening was one of the many incidents in which these traits brought triumph. one of his most remarkable achievements was the mastering of a number of cunning coyotes which were persistent in annoying him and willing to make an opportunity to kill him. in a sunny place close to the cabin, the coyotes one autumn frequently collected for a howling concert. this irritated scotch, and he generally chased the howlers into the woods. now and then he lay down on their yelping-grounds to prevent their prompt return. after a time these wily little wolves adopted tantalizing tactics, and one day, while scotch was chasing the pack, a lame coyote made a détour and came behind him. in the shelter of a willow-clump the coyote broke out in a maddening babel of yelps and howls. scotch instantly turned back to suppress him. while he was thus busy, the entire pack doubled back into the open and taunted scotch with attitude and howls. twice did the pack repeat these annoying, defying tactics. this serious situation put scotch on his mettle. one night he went down the mountain to a ranch-house fifteen miles away. for the first time he was gone all night. the next morning i was astonished to find another collie in scotch's bed. scotch was in a state of worried suspense until i welcomed the stranger; then he was most gleeful. this move on his part told plainly that he was planning something still more startling. indeed he was, but never did i suspect what this move was to be. that day, at the first howl of the coyotes, i rushed out to see if the visiting collie would assist scotch. there were the coyotes in groups of two and three, yelping, howling, and watching. both dogs were missing, but presently they came into view, cautiously approaching the coyotes from behind a screen of bushes. suddenly the visiting collie dashed out upon them. at the same instant scotch leaped into a willow-clump and crouched down; it was by this clump that the lame coyote had each time come to howl behind scotch. while the visiting collie was driving the pack, the lame coyote again came out to make his sneaking flank movement. as he rounded the willow-clump scotch leaped upon him. instantly the other dog raced back, and both dogs fell fiercely upon the coyote. though lame, he was powerful, and finally shook the dogs off and escaped to the woods, but he was badly wounded and bleeding freely. the pack fled and came no more to howl near the cabin. at bedtime, when i went out to see the dogs, both were away. their tracks in the road showed that scotch had accompanied the neighboring collie at least part of the way home. on rare occasions scotch was allowed to go with visitors into the woods or up the mountain-side. however, he was allowed to accompany only those who appreciated the companionship and the intelligence of a noble dog or who might need him to show the way home. one day a young woman from michigan came along and wanted to climb long's peak alone and without a guide. i agreed to consent to her wish if she would take scotch with her and would also first climb one of the lesser peaks on a stormy day, unaided. this climbing the young woman did, and by so doing convinced me that she had a keen sense of direction and an abundance of strength, for the day was a stormy one and the peak was completely befogged with clouds. after this there was nothing for me to do but to allow her to climb long's peak. just as she was starting for long's peak that cool september morning, i called scotch and said to him: "scotch, go with this young woman up long's peak. keep her on the trail, take good care of her, and stay with her until she returns!" scotch gave a few barks of satisfaction and started with the young woman up the trail, carrying himself in a manner which indicated that he was both honored and pleased. i felt that the strength and alertness of the young woman, when combined with the faithfulness and watchfulness of scotch, would make the ascent a success, for the dog knew the trail as well as any guide. the young woman climbed swiftly until she reached the rocky alpine moorlands above timber-line. here she lingered long to enjoy the magnificent scenery and the brilliant flowers. it was late in the afternoon when she arrived at the summit of the peak. after she had spent a little time there, resting and absorbing the beauty and grandeur of the scene, she started to return. she had not gone far when clouds and darkness came on, and on a slope of slide rock she turned aside from the trail. scotch had minded his own affairs and enjoyed himself in his own way all day long. most of the time he had followed her closely, apparently indifferent to what happened. but the instant the young woman left the trail and started off in the wrong direction, he sprang ahead and took the lead with an alert, aggressive air. the way in which he did this should have suggested to her that he knew what he was about, but she did not appreciate this fact. she thought he had become weary and wanted to run away from her, so she called him back. again she started in the wrong direction. this time scotch got in front of her and refused to move. she pushed him out of the way. once more he started off in the right direction and this time she scolded him and reminded him that his master had told him to stay with her. scotch dropped his ears, fell in behind her, and followed meekly in her steps. he had tried to carry out the first part of his master's orders; now he was resigned to the second part of them. after going a short distance, the young woman realized that she had lost her trail but it never occurred to her that she had only to let scotch have his way and he would lead her safely home. however, she had the good sense to stop where she was. and there, among the crags, by the stained remnants of winter's snow, thirteen thousand feet above sea-level, she knew she must pass the night. the wind blew a gale and the alpine brooklet turned to ice, while, in the lee of a crag, shivering with cold and hugging scotch tight, she lay down to wait for daylight. when darkness had come that evening and the young woman had not returned, i sent a rescue party of four guides up the peak. they suffered much from cold as they vainly searched among the crags through the dark hours of the windy night. just at sunrise one of the guides found her. she was almost exhausted, but was still hugging scotch tightly and only her fingers were frost-bitten. the guide gave her wraps and food and drink, and started with her down the trail. and scotch? oh, as soon as the guide appeared he left her and started home for breakfast. scotch saved this young woman's life by staying with her through the long, cold night. she appreciated the fact, and was quick to admit that if she had allowed the dog to have his own way about the trail she would have had no trouble. iii one summer a family lived in a cabin at the farther side of the big yard. scotch developed a marked fondness for the lady of the house and called on her daily. he was so purposeful about this that from the moment he rose to start there was no mistaking his plans. along the pathway toward the cabin he went, evidently with something definite in his mind. he was going somewhere; there was no stopping, no hurrying, and no turning aside. if the door was open, in he went; if it was closed, he made a scraping stroke across it and with dignified pose waited for it to be opened. inside he was the gentleman. generally he made a quiet tour through all the rooms and then lay down before the fireplace. if any one talked to him, he watched the speaker and listened with pleased attention; if the speaker was animated, scotch now and then gave a low bark of appreciation. usually he stayed about half an hour and then went sedately out. without looking back, he returned deliberately to his own quarters. what an unconscious dignity there was in his make-up! he would not "jump for the gentlemen," nor leap over a stick, nor "roll over." no one ever would have thought of asking him to speak, to say grace, or to sit up on his hind legs for something to eat. all these tricks were foreign to his nature and had no place in his philosophy! though scotch admitted very few to the circle of his intimate friends, he was admired, respected, and loved by thousands. one of these admirers writes of him: "of this little rustic inn, scotch was no less the host than was his master. he welcomed the coming and sped the parting guest. he escorted the climbers to the beginning of the trail up long's peak. he received the returning trout fishermen. he kept the burros on the other side of the brook. he stood between the coyotes and the inhabitants of the chicken yard. he was always ready to play football for the entertainment of the guests after dinner. he was really the busiest person about the inn from morning till night." though apparently matter-of-fact and stolid, he was ever ready for a romp and was one of the most playful dogs. except at odd times, i was the only playmate he ever had. it was a pleasure to watch him or to play with him, for he played with all his might. he took an intense delight in having me kick or toss a football for him. he raced at full speed in pursuing the ball, and upon overtaking it would try to pick it up, but it was too large for him. as soon as i picked it up, he became all alert to race after it or to leap up and intercept it. if the ball was tossed easily to him, he sprang to meet it and usually struck it with the point of his chin and sent it flying back to me; at short range we were sometimes able to send the ball back and forth between us several times without either one moving in his tracks. if the ball was tossed above him, he leaped up to strike it with head, chin, or teeth, trying to make it bound upward; if it went up, he raced to do it over again. occasionally he was clever enough to repeat this many times without allowing the ball to fall to the earth. [illustration: playing football] his enjoyment in make-believe play was as eager and refreshing as that of a child. this kind of play we often enjoyed in the yard. i would pretend to be searching for him, while he, crouching near in plain view, pretended to be hidden. oh, how he enjoyed this! again and again i would approach him from a different direction, and, when within touching distance, call, "where is scotch?" while he, too happy for barks, hugged the earth closely and silently. now and then he took a pose and pretended to be looking at something far away, while all the time his eager eye was upon me. from time to time, with utmost stealth, he took a new hiding-place. with every pretense of trying not to be seen, he sometimes moved from behind to immediately in front of me! silently, though excitedly happy, he played this delightful childish game. it always ended to his liking; i grabbed him with a "hello, there's scotch!" and carried him off on my shoulder. one day a family arrived at a nearby cottage to spend the summer. during the first afternoon of their stay, the toddling baby strayed away. every one turned out to search. with enlarging circles we covered the surrounding country and at last came upon the youngster in the woods about a quarter of a mile from the house. scotch was with him and was lying down with head up, while the baby, asleep, was using him for a pillow, and had one chubby arm thrown across his neck. he saw us approach and lift the baby as if nothing unusual had happened. he never failed to notice my preparations to journey beyond the mountains. never would he watch me start on this kind of a journey, but an hour or so before leaving-time he would go to the side of the house opposite where i started. here he would refuse attention from any one and for a few days would go about sadly. a little in advance of my home-coming, he showed that he expected me. probably he heard my name used by the people in the house. anyway, for two or three days before my arrival, he each evening would go down the road and wait at the place where he had greeted me many times on my return. when i went horseback-riding he was almost passionately happy if allowed to go along. whenever my pony was brought out, he at once stopped everything and lay down near the pony to await my coming. would i go out on the trail with him, or go to the post office and leave him behind? by the time i appeared, these questions had him in a high state of excitement. usually he turned his head away and yawned and yawned; he rose up and sat down, altogether showing a strange combination of bashfulness and impatience; though plainly trying to be quiet, he was restless until my answer came. usually he was able to make out what this was without waiting for any word from me. a hatchet, for example, would tell him i was going to the woods. on the other hand, the mail-bag meant that i was going to the village. this meant that he could not go, whereupon he would go off slowly, lie down, and look the other way. if the answer was "yes," he raced this way and that, leaping up once or twice to touch the pony's nose with his own. during each ride he insisted on a race with the pony; if i chanced to forget this, he never failed to remind me before the ride was over. as a reminder, he would run alongside me and leap as high as possible, then race ahead as swiftly as he could. this he repeated until i accepted his challenge. both dog and pony gleefully enjoyed this and each tried to pass the other. once we were clattering over the last stretch toward home. scotch, who was in the lead, saw our pet chicken crouched in the pony's track, where it was in danger of being crushed. unmindful of his own danger from the pony's hoofs, he swerved, gently caught up the chicken, and lifted it out of danger. after fondling it for a moment, he raced after us at full speed. [illustration: ready for a walk] no matter what the weather, he usually slept outdoors. he understood, however, that he was welcome to come into my cabin day or night, and was a frequent caller. in the cabin he was dignified and never used it as a place of amusement. iv scotch enjoyed being with me, and great times we had together. many of our best days were in the wilds. here he often suffered from hunger, cold, hardships, and sometimes from accident; yet never did he complain. usually he endured the unpleasant things as a matter of course. though very lonely when left by himself, he never allowed this feeling to cause a slighting of duty. on one occasion he was supremely tried but did his duty as he understood it and was faithful under circumstances of loneliness, danger, and possible death. at the close of one of our winter trips, scotch and i started across the continental divide of the rocky mountains in face of weather conditions that indicated a snowstorm or a blizzard before we could gain the other side. we had eaten the last of our food twenty-four hours before, and could no longer wait for fair weather. so off we started to scale the snowy steeps of the cold, gray heights a thousand feet above. the mountains already were deeply snow-covered and it would have been a hard trip even without the discomforts and dangers of a storm. i was on snowshoes, and for a week we had been camping and tramping through the snowy forests and glacier meadows at the source of grand river, two miles above the sea. the primeval rocky mountain forests are just as near to nature's heart in winter as in summer. i had found so much to study and enjoy that the long distance from a food-supply, even when the last mouthful was eaten, had not aroused me to the seriousness of the situation. scotch had not complained, and appeared to have the keenest collie interest in the tracks and trails, the scenes and silences away from the haunts of man. the snow lay seven feet deep, but by keeping in my snowshoe-tracks scotch easily followed me about. our last camp was in the depths of an alpine forest, at an altitude of ten thousand feet. here, though zero weather prevailed, we were easily comfortable beside a fire under the protection of an overhanging cliff. after a walk through woods the sun came blazing in our faces past the snow-piled crags on long's peak, and threw slender blue shadows of the spiry spruces far out in a white glacier meadow to meet us. reëntering the tall but open woods, we saw, down the long aisles and limb-arched avenues, a forest of tree-columns, entangled in sunlight and shadow, standing on a snowy marble floor. we were on the pacific slope, and our plan was to cross the summit by the shortest way between timber-line there and timber-line on the atlantic side. this meant ascending a thousand feet and descending an equal distance, traveling five miles amid bleak, rugged environment. after gaining a thousand feet of altitude through the friendly forest, we climbed out and up above the trees on a steep slope at timber-line. this place, the farthest up for trees, was a picturesque, desolate place. the dwarfed, gnarled, storm-shaped trees amid enormous snow-drifts told of endless, and at times deadly, struggles of the trees with the elements. most of the trees were buried, but here and there a leaning or a storm-distorted one bent bravely above the snows. along the treeless, gradual ascent we started, realizing that the last steep icy climb would be dangerous and defiant. most of the snow had slid from the steeper places, and much of the remainder had blown away. over the unsheltered whole the wind was howling. for a time the sun shone dimly through the wind-driven snow-dust that rolled from the top of the range, but it disappeared early behind wild, wind-swept clouds. at last we were safe on a ridge, and we started merrily off, hoping to cover speedily the three miles of comparatively level plateau. how the wind did blow! up more than eleven thousand feet above the sea, with not a tree to steady or break, it had a royal sweep. the wind appeared to be putting forth its wildest efforts to blow us off the ridge. there being a broad way, i kept well from the edges. the wind came with a dash and a heavy rush, first from one quarter, then from another. i was watchful and faced each rush firmly braced. generally this preparedness saved me; but several times the wind seemed to expand or explode beneath me, and, with an upward toss, i was flung among the icy rocks and crusted snows. finally i took to dropping and lying flat whenever a violent gust came ripping among the crags. there was an arctic barrenness to this alpine ridge,--not a house within miles, no trail, and here no tree could live to soften the sternness of the landscape or to cheer the traveler. the way wound amid snowy piles, icy spaces, and wind-swept crags. [illustration: the mountains in winter scotch on guard at the timber-line cabin] the wind slackened and snow began to fall just as we were leaving the smooth plateau for the broken part of the divide. the next mile of way was badly cut to pieces with deep gorges from both sides of the ridge. the inner ends of several of these broke through the center of the ridge and extended beyond the ends of the gorges from the opposite side. this made the course a series of sharp, short zigzags. we went forward in the flying snow. i could scarcely see, but felt that i could keep the way on the broken ridge between the numerous rents and cañons. on snowy, icy ledges the wind took reckless liberties. i wanted to stop but dared not, for the cold was intense enough to freeze one in a few minutes. fearing that a snow-whirl might separate us, i fastened one end of my light, strong rope to scotch's collar and the other end to my belt. this proved to be fortunate for both, for while we were crossing an icy, though moderate, slope, a gust of wind swept me off my feet and started us sliding. it was not steep, but was so slippery i could not stop, nor see where the slope ended, and i grabbed in vain at the few icy projections. scotch also lost his footing and was sliding and rolling about, and the wind was hurrying us along, when i threw myself flat and dug at the ice with fingers and toes. in the midst of my unsuccessful efforts we were brought to a sudden stop by the rope between us catching over a small rock-point that was thrust up through the ice. around this in every direction was smooth, sloping ice; this, with the high wind, made me wonder for a moment how we were to get safely off the slope. the belt axe proved the means, for with it i reached out as far as i could and chopped a hole in the ice, while with the other hand i clung to the rock-point. then, returning the axe to my belt, i caught hold in the chopped place and pulled myself forward, repeating this until on safe footing. in oncoming darkness and whirling snow i had safely rounded the ends of two gorges and was hurrying forward over a comparatively level stretch, with the wind at my back boosting me along. scotch was running by my side and evidently was trusting me to guard against all dangers. this i tried to do. suddenly, however, there came a fierce dash of wind and whirl of snow that hid everything. instantly i flung myself flat, trying to stop quickly. just as i did this i caught the strange, weird sound made by high wind as it sweeps across a cañon, and at once realized that we were close to a storm-hidden gorge. i stopped against a rock, while scotch slid into the chasm and was hauled back with the rope. the gorge had been encountered between two out-thrusting side gorges, and between these in the darkness i had a cold time feeling my way out. at last i came to a cairn of stones that i recognized. i had missed the way by only a few yards, but this miss had been nearly fatal. not daring to hurry in the darkness in order to get warm, i was becoming colder every moment. i still had a stiff climb between me and the summit, with timber-line three rough miles beyond. to attempt to make it would probably result in freezing or tumbling into a gorge. at last i realized that i must stop and spend the night in a snow-drift. quickly kicking and trampling a trench in a loose drift, i placed my elkskin sleeping-bag therein, thrust scotch into the bag, and then squeezed into it myself. i was almost congealed with cold. my first thought after warming up was to wonder why i had not earlier remembered the bag. two in a bag would guarantee warmth, and with warmth, a snow-drift on the crest of the continent would not be a bad place in which to lodge for the night. the sounds of wind and snow beating upon the bag grew fainter and fainter as we were drifted and piled over with the snow. at the same time our temperature rose, and before long it was necessary to open the flap of the bag slightly for ventilation. at last the sounds of the storm could barely be heard. was the storm quieting down, or was its roar muffled and lost in the deepening cover of snow? was the unimportant question occupying my thoughts when i fell asleep. scotch awakened me in trying to get out of the bag. it was morning. out we crawled, and, standing with only my head above the drift, i found the air still and saw a snowy mountain world all serene in the morning sun. i hastily adjusted sleeping-bag and snowshoes, and we set off for the final climb to the summit. the final hundred feet or so rose steep, jagged, and ice-covered before me. there was nothing to lay hold of; every point of vantage was plated with smooth ice. there appeared only one way to surmount this icy barrier and that was to chop toeand hand-holes from the bottom to the top of this icy wall, which in places was close to vertical. such a climb would not be especially difficult or dangerous for me, but could scotch do it? he could hardly know how to place his feet in the holes or on the steps properly; nor could he realize that a slip or a misstep would mean a slide and a roll to death. leaving sleeping-bag and snowshoes with scotch, i grasped my axe and chopped my way to the top and then went down and carried bag and snowshoes up. returning for scotch, i started him climbing just ahead of me, so that i could boost and encourage him. we had gained only a few feet when it became plain that sooner or later he would slip and bring disaster to both of us. we stopped and descended to the bottom for a new start. though the wind was again blowing a gale, i determined to carry him. his weight was forty pounds, and he would make a top-heavy load and give the wind a good chance to upset my balance and tip me off the wall. but, as there appeared no other way, i threw him over my shoulder and started up. many times scotch and i had been in ticklish places together, and more than once i had pulled him up rocky cliffs on which he could not find footing. several times i had carried him over gulches on fallen logs that were too slippery for him. he was so trusting and so trained that he relaxed and never moved while in my arms or on my shoulder. arriving at the place least steep, i stopped to transfer scotch from one shoulder to the other. the wind was at its worst; its direction frequently changed and it alternately calmed and then came on like an explosion. for several seconds it had been roaring down the slope; bracing myself to withstand its force from this direction, i was about to move scotch, when it suddenly shifted to one side and came with the force of a breaker. it threw me off my balance and tumbled me heavily against the icy slope. though my head struck solidly, scotch came down beneath me and took most of the shock. instantly we glanced off and began to slide swiftly. fortunately i managed to get two fingers into one of the chopped holes and held fast. i clung to scotch with one arm; we came to a stop, both saved. scotch gave a yelp of pain when he fell beneath me, but he did not move. had he made a jump or attempted to help himself, it is likely that both of us would have gone to the bottom of the slope. gripping scotch with one hand and clinging to the icy hold with the other, i shuffled about until i got my feet into two holes in the icy wall. standing in these and leaning against the ice, with the wind butting and dashing, i attempted the ticklish task of lifting scotch again to my shoulder--and succeeded. a minute later we paused to breathe on the summit's icy ridge, between two oceans and amid seas of snowy peaks. v one cold winter day we were returning from a four days' trip on the continental divide, when, a little above timber-line, i stopped to take some photographs. to do this it was necessary for me to take off my sheepskin mittens, which i placed in my coat pocket, but not securely, as it proved. from time to time, as i climbed to the summit of the divide, i stopped to take photographs, but on the summit the cold pierced my silk gloves and i felt for my mittens, to find that one of them was lost. i stooped, put an arm around scotch and told him that i had lost a mitten and that i wanted him to go down for it to save me the trouble. "it won't take you very long," i said, "but it will be a hard trip for me. go and fetch it to me." instead of starting off quickly and willingly as he had invariably done before in obedience to my commands, he stood still. his eager, alert ears drooped. he did not make a move. i repeated the command in my most kindly tones. at this, instead of starting down the mountain for the mitten, he slunk slowly away toward home. apparently he did not want to climb down the steep, icy slope of a mile to timber-line, more than a thousand feet below. i thought he had misunderstood me, so i called him back, patted him, and then, pointing down the slope, said, "go for the mitten, scotch; i will wait for you here." he started, but went unwillingly. he had always served me so cheerfully that i could not understand his behavior, and it was not until later that i realized how cruelly he had misunderstood. the summit of the continental divide where i stood when i sent scotch back, was a very rough and lonely region. on every hand were broken, snowy peaks and rugged cañons. my cabin, eighteen miles away, was the nearest house, and the region was utterly wild. i waited a reasonable time for scotch to return, but he did not come back. thinking he might have gone by without my seeing him, i walked some distance along the summit, first in one direction and then in the other, but, seeing neither him nor his tracks, i knew that he had not yet returned. as it was late in the afternoon and growing colder, i decided to go slowly on toward my cabin. i started along a route i felt sure he would follow and i reasoned that he would overtake me. darkness came on and still no scotch, but i kept on going forward. for the remainder of the way i told myself that he might have got by me in the darkness. when, at midnight, i arrived at the cabin, i expected to be greeted by him. he was not there. i felt that something was wrong and feared that he had met with an accident. i slept two hours and rose, but he was still missing. i decided to tie on my snowshoes and go to meet him. the thermometer showed fourteen degrees below zero. [illustration: scotch near timber-line] i started at three o'clock in the morning, feeling that i should meet him before going far. i kept on and on and when at noon i arrived at the place on the summit from which i had sent him back, scotch was not there to cheer the wintry, silent scene. slowly i made my way down the slope and at two in the afternoon, twenty-four hours after i had sent scotch down the mountain, i paused on a crag and looked below. there, in a world of white, scotch lay by the mitten in the snow. he had misunderstood me and had gone back to guard the mitten instead of to get it. he could hardly contain himself for joy when we met. he leaped into the air, barked, rolled over, licked my hand, whined, seized the mitten in his mouth, raced round and round me, and did everything that an alert, affectionate, faithful dog could to show that he appreciated my appreciation of his supremely faithful services. after waiting for him to eat a luncheon we started for home, where we arrived at one o'clock in the morning. had i not gone back for scotch, i suppose he would have died beside the mitten. without food or companionship, in a region cold, cheerless, and oppressive, he was watching the mitten because he had understood that i had told him to watch it. in the annals of the dog i do not know of any more touching instance of loyalty. vi through the seasons and through the years scotch and i wandered in the wilds and enjoyed nature together. though we were often wet, hungry, or cold, he never ceased to be cheerful. through the scenes and the silences we went side by side; side by side in the lonely night we gazed into the camp-fire, and in feeling lived strangely through "yesterday's seven thousand years" together. he was only a puppy the first time that he went with me to enjoy the woods. during this trip we came upon an unextinguished camp-fire that was spreading and about to become a forest fire. upon this fire i fell with utmost speed so as to extinguish it before it should enlarge beyond control. my wild stampings, beatings, and hurling of firebrands made a deep impression on puppy scotch. for a time he stood still and watched me, and then he jumped in and tried to help. he bit and clawed at the flames, burned himself, and with deep growlings desperately shook smoking sticks. the day following this incident, as we strolled through the woods, he came upon another smouldering camp-fire and at once called my attention to it with lively barking. i patted him and tried to make him understand that i appreciated what he had done, and then extinguished the fire. through the years, in our wood wanderings, he was alert for fire and prompt to warn me of a discovery. his nose and eye detected many fires that even my trained and watchful senses had missed. one autumn, while watching a forest fire, we became enveloped in smoke and narrowly escaped with our lives. the fire had started in the bottom and was burning upward in the end of a long, wide mountain valley, and giving off volumes of smoke. in trying to obtain a clearer view, and also to avoid the smoke, we descended into a ravine close behind the fire. shortly after our arrival a strong wind drove the wings of the fire outward to right and left, then backward down both sides of the valley, filling the ravine with smoke. this movement of the fire would in a short time have encircled us with flames. i made a dash to avoid this peril, and in running along a rock ledge in the smoke, stumbled into a rocky place and one of my shoes stuck fast. this threw me heavily and badly sprained my left leg. amid thick smoke, falling ashes, and approaching flames, this situation was a serious one. scotch showed the deepest concern by staying close by me and finally by giving a number of strange barks such as i had never before heard. after freeing myself i was unable to walk, and in hopping and creeping along my camera became so annoying that i gave it to scotch; but in the brush the straps became so often entangled that throwing it away proved a relief to us both. meanwhile we were making slow progress through the unburned woods and the fire was roaring close. seeing no hope of getting out of the way, we finally took refuge to the leeward side of a rocky crag where the flames could not reach us. but could we avoid being smothered? already we were dangerously near that and the fire had yet to surge around us. to send scotch for water offered a possible means of escape. slapping my coat upon the rocks two or three times i commanded, "water, scotch, water!" he understood, and with an eager bark seized the coat and vanished in the smoke. he would be compelled to pass through a line of flame in order to reach the water in the ravine, but this he would do or die. after waiting a reasonable time i began to call, "scotch! scotch!" as loudly as my parched throat and gasping permitted. presently he leaped upon me, fearfully burned but with the saturated coat in his teeth. most of his shaggy coat was seared off, one eye was closed, and there was a cruel burn on his left side. hurriedly i bound a coat-sleeve around his head to protect his eyes and nose, then squeezed enough water from the coat to wet my throat. hugging scotch closely, i spread the wet coat over us both and covered my face with a wet handkerchief. with stifling smoke and fiery heat the flames surged around, but at last swept over and left us both alive. without the help from scotch i must have perished. it was this useful fire-fighting habit that caused the death of my faithful scotch. one morning the men started off to do some road work. scotch saw them go and apparently wanted to go with them. i had just returned from a long absence and had to stay in the cabin and write letters. about half an hour after the men had gone, scotch gave a scratching knock at the door. plainly he wanted to follow the men and had come for my consent to go without me. i patted him and urged him to go. he left the cabin, never again to return. scotch arrived at the road work just as the men had lighted and run away from a blast. he saw the smoking fuse and sprang to extinguish it, as the blast exploded. he was instantly killed. the end the riverside press cambridge . massachusetts u . s . a * * * * * transcriber's note page 31: the word "for" changed to "from": text "any word from me" transcriber's note text emphasis for italics is represented by _text_. * * * * * u. s. department of agriculture, bureau of entomology--bulletin no. 121. l. o. howard. entomologist and chief of bureau. the behavior of the honey bee in pollen collecting. by d. b. casteel, ph. d., _collaborator and adjunct professor of zoology,_ _university of texas._ issued december 31, 1912. [illustration] washington: government printing office. 1912. _bureau of entomology._ l. o. howard, _entomologist and chief of bureau_. c. l. marlatt, _entomologist and acting chief in absence of chief_. r. s. clifton, _executive assistant_. w. f. tastet, _chief clerk_. f. h. chittenden, _in charge of truck crop and stored product insect investigations_. a. d. hopkins, _in charge of forest insect investigations_. w. d. hunter, _in charge of southern field crop insect investigations_. f. m. webster, _in charge of cereal and forage insect investigations_. a. l. quaintance, _in charge of deciduous fruit insect investigations_. e. f. phillips, _in charge of bee culture_. d. m. rogers, _in charge of preventing spread of moths, field work_. rolla p. currie, _in charge of editorial work_. mabel colcord, _in charge of library_. investigations in bee culture. e. f. phillips, _in charge_. g. f. white, j. a. nelson, _experts_. g. s. demuth, a. h. mccray, n. e. mcindoo, _apicultural assistants_. pearle h. garrison, preparator. d. b. casteel, collaborator. letter of transmittal. u. s. department of agriculture, bureau of entomology, _washington, d. c, september 23, 1912_. sir: i have the honor to transmit herewith a manuscript entitled "the behavior of the honey bee in pollen collecting," by dr. dana b. casteel, of this bureau. the value of the honey bee in cross pollinating the flowers of fruit trees makes it desirable that exact information be available concerning the actions of the bee when gathering and manipulating the pollen. the results recorded in this manuscript are also of value as studies in the behavior of the bee and will prove interesting and valuable to the bee keeper. the work here recorded was done by dr. casteel during the summers of 1911 and 1912 at the apiary of this bureau. i recommend that this manuscript be published as bulletin no. 121 of the bureau of entomology. respectfully, l. o. howard, _entomologist and chief of bureau_. hon. james wilson, _secretary of agriculture_. contents. page. introduction 7 the structures concerned in the manipulation of pollen 7 the pollen supply 10 general statement of the pollen-collecting process 11 action of the forelegs and mouthparts 13 action of the middle legs 14 action of the hind legs 16 additional details of the basket-loading process 18 pollen moistening 22 storing pollen in the hive 29 summary 31 bibliography 33 index 35 illustrations. text figures. page. fig. 1. left foreleg of a worker bee 8 2. left middle leg of a worker bee 9 3. outer surface of the left hind leg of a worker bee 10 4. inner surface of the left hind leg of a worker bee 11 5. a flying bee, showing the manner in which the forelegs and middle legs manipulate pollen 14 6. a bee upon the wing, showing the position of the middle legs when they touch and pat down the pollen masses 15 7. a bee upon the wing, showing the manner in which the hind legs are held during the basket-loading process 17 8. the left hind legs of worker bees, showing the manner in which pollen enters the basket 19 9. inner surface of the right hind leg of a worker bee which bears a complete load of pollen 22 the behavior of the honey bee in pollen collecting. introduction. while working upon the problem of wax-scale manipulation during the summer of 1911 the writer became convinced that the so-called wax shears or pinchers of the worker honey bee have nothing whatever to do with the extraction of the wax scales from their pockets, but rather that they are organs used in loading the pollen from the pollen combs of the hind legs into the corbiculæ or pollen baskets (cast eel, 1912). further observations made at that time disclosed the exact method by which the hind legs are instrumental in the pollen-loading process and also the way in which the middle legs aid the hind legs in patting down the pollen masses. during the summer of 1912 additional information was secured, more particularly that relating to the manner in which pollen is collected upon the body and legs of the bee, how it is transferred to the hind legs, how it is moistened, and finally the method by which it is stored in the hive for future use. in the present paper a complete account will be given of the history of the pollen from the time it leaves the flower until it rests within the cells of the hive. the points of more particular interest in the description of pollen manipulation refer to (1) the movements concerned in gathering the pollen from the flowers upon the body and legs, (2) the method by which the baskets of the hind legs receive the loads which they carry to the hive, and (3) the manner in which the bee moistens pollen and renders it sufficiently cohesive for packing and transportation. the structures concerned in the manipulation of pollen. the hairs which cover the body and appendages of the bee are of the utmost importance in the process of pollen gathering. for the purposes of this account these hairs may be classified roughly as (1) branched hairs and (2) unbranched hairs, the latter including both long, slender hairs and stiff, spinelike structures. of these two classes the branched hairs are the more numerous. they make up the hairy coat of the head, thorax, and abdomen, with the exception of short sensory spines, as those found upon the antennæ and perhaps elsewhere, and the stiff unbranched hairs which cover the surfaces of the compound eyes (phillips, 1905). branched hairs are also found upon the legs; more particularly upon the more proximal segments. a typical branched hair is composed of a long slender main axis from which spring numerous short lateral barbs. grains of pollen are caught and held in the angles between the axis and the barbs and between the barbs of contiguous hairs. the hairy covering of the body and legs thus serves as a collecting surface upon which pollen grains are temporarily retained and from which they are later removed by the combing action of the brushes of the legs. although, as above noted, some unbranched hairs are located upon the body of the bee, they occur in greatest numbers upon the more distal segments of the appendages. they are quite diverse in form, some being extremely long and slender, such as those which curve over the pollen baskets, others being stout and stiff, as those which form the collecting brushes and the pecten spines. the mouthparts of the bee are also essential to the proper collection of pollen. the mandibles are used to scrape over the anthers of flowers, and considerable pollen adheres to them and is later removed. the same is true of the maxillæ and tongue. from the mouth comes the fluid by which the pollen grains are moistened. the legs of the worker bee are especially adapted for pollen gathering. each leg bears a collecting brush, composed of stiff, unbranched hairs set closely together. these brushes are located upon the first or most proximal tarsal segment of the legs, known technically as the palmæ of the forelegs and as the plantæ of the middle and hind pair. the brush of the foreleg is elongated and of slight width (fig. 1), that of the middle leg broad and flat (fig. 2), while the brush upon the planta of the hind leg is the broadest of all, and is also the most highly specialized. in addition to these well-marked brushes, the distal ends of the tibiæ of the fore and middle legs bear many stiff hairs, which function as pollen collectors, and the distal tarsal joints of all legs bear similar structures. [illustration: fig. 1.--left foreleg of a worker bee. (original.)] the tibia and the planta of the hind leg of the worker bee are greatly flattened. (see figs. 3, 4.) the outer surface of the tibia is marked by an elongated depression, deepest at its distal end, and bounded laterally by elevated margins. from the lateral boundaries of this depression spring many long hairs, some of which arch over the concave outer surface of the tibia and thus form a kind of receptacle or basket to which the name corbicula or pollen-basket is given. the lower or distal end of the tibia articulates at its anterior edge with the planta. the remaining portion of this end of the tibia is flattened and slightly concave, its surface sloping upward from the inner to the outer surface of the limb. along the inner edge of this surface runs a row of short, stiff, backwardly directed spines, from 15 to 21 in number, which form the pecten or comb of the tibia. the lateral edge of this area forms the lower boundary of the corbicula r depression and is marked by a row of very fine hairs which branch at their free ends. immediately above these hairs, springing from the floor of the corbicula, are found 7 or 8 minute spines, and above them one long hair which reaches out over the lower edge of the basket. the broad, flat planta (metatarsus or proximal tarsal segment of the hind leg) is marked on its inner surface by several rows of stiff, distally directed spines which form the pollen combs. about 12 of these transverse rows may be distinguished, although some of them are not complete. the most distal row, which projects beyond the edge of the planta, is composed of very strong, stiff spines which function in the removal of the wax scales (casteel, 1912). the upper or proximal end of the planta is flattened and projects in a posterior direction to form the auricle. the surface of the auricle is marked with short, blunt spines, pyramidal in form, and a fringe of fine hairs with branching ends extends along its lateral edge. this surface slopes upward and outward. [illustration: fig. 2.--left middle leg of a worker bee. (original.)] the pollen supply. when bees collect pollen from flowers they may be engaged in this occupation alone or may combine it with nectar gathering. from some flowers the bees take only nectar, from others only pollen; a third class of flowers furnishes an available supply of both of these substances. but even where both pollen and nectar are obtainable a bee may gather nectar and disregard the pollen. this is well illustrated by the case of white clover. if bees are watched while working upon clover flowers, the observer will soon perceive some which bear pollen masses upon their hind legs, while others will continue to visit flower after flower, dipping into the blossoms and securing a plentiful supply of nectar, yet entirely neglecting the pollen. [illustration: fig. 3.--outer surface of the left hind leg of a worker bee. (original.)] the supply of pollen which is available for the bees varies greatly among different flowers. some furnish an abundant amount and present it to the bee in such a way that little difficulty is experienced in quickly securing an ample load, while others furnish but little. when flowers are small and when the bee approaches them from above, little, if any, pollen is scattered over the bee's body, all that it acquires being first collected upon the mouth and neighboring parts, of a very different conditions are met with when bees visit such plants as corn and ragweed. the flowers of these plants are pendent and possess an abundant supply of pollen, which falls in showers over the bodies of the bees as they crawl beneath the blossoms. the supply of pollen which lodges upon the body of the bee will thus differ considerably in amount, depending upon the type of flower from which the bee is collecting, and the same is true regarding the location upon the body of a bee of pollen grains which are available for storage in the baskets. moreover, the movements concerned in the collection of the pollen from the various body parts of the bee upon which it lodges will differ somewhat in the two cases, since a widely scattered supply requires for its collection additional movements, somewhat similar in nature to those which the bee employs in cleaning the hairs which cover its body. [illustration: fig. 4.--inner surface of the left hind leg of a worker bee. (original.)] general statement of the pollen-collecting process. a very complete knowledge of the pollen-gathering behavior of the worker honey bee may be obtained by a study of the actions of bees which are working upon a plant which yields pollen in abundance. sweet corn is an ideal plant for this purpose, and it will be used as a basis for the description which follows. in attempting to outline the method by which pollen is manipulated the writer wishes it to be understood that he is recounting that which he has seen and that the description is not necessarily complete, although he is of the opinion that it is very nearly so. the movements of the legs and of the mouthparts are so rapid and so many members are in action at once that it is impossible for the eye to follow all at the same time. however, long-continued observation, assisted by the study of instantaneous photographs, gives confidence that the statements recorded are accurate, although some movements may have escaped notice. to obtain pollen from corn the bee must find a tassel in the right stage of ripeness, with flowers open and stamens hanging from them. the bee alights upon a spike and crawls along it, clinging to the pendent anthers. it crawls over the anthers, going from one flower to another along the spike, being all the while busily engaged in the task of obtaining pollen. this reaches its body in several ways. as the bee moves over the anthers it uses its mandibles and tongue, biting the anthers and licking them and securing a considerable amount of pollen upon these parts. this pollen becomes moist and sticky, since it is mingled with fluid from the mouth. a considerable amount of pollen is dislodged from the anthers as the bee moves over them. all of the legs receive a supply of this free pollen and much adheres to the hairs which cover the body, more particularly to those upon the ventral surface. this free pollen is dry and powdery and is very different in appearance from the moist pollen masses with which the bee returns to the hive. before the return journey this pollen must be transferred to the baskets and securely packed in them. after the bee has traversed a few flowers along the spike and has become well supplied with free pollen it begins to collect it from its body, head, and forward appendages and to transfer it to the posterior pair of legs. this may be accomplished while the bee is resting upon the flower or while it is hovering in the air before seeking additional pollen. it is probably more thoroughly and rapidly accomplished while the bee is in the air, since all of the legs are then free to function in the gathering process. if the collecting bee is seized with forceps and examined after it has crawled over the stamens of a few flowers of the corn, its legs and the ventral surface of its body are found to be thickly powdered over with pollen. if the bee hovers in the air for a few moments and is then examined very little pollen is found upon the body or upon the legs, except the masses within the pollen baskets. while in the air it has accomplished the work of collecting some of the scattered grains and of storing them in the baskets, while others have been brushed from the body. in attempting to describe the movements by which this result is accomplished it will be best first to sketch briefly the roles of the three pairs of legs. they are as follows: (_a_) the first pair of legs remove scattered pollen from the head and the region of the neck, and the pollen that has been moistened by fluid substances from the mouth. (_b_) the second pair of legs remove scattered pollen from the thorax, more particularly from the ventral region, and they received the pollen that has been collected by the first pair of legs. (_c_) the third pair of legs collect a little of the scattered pollen from the abdomen and they receive pollen that has been collected by the second pair. nearly all of this pollen is collected by the pollen combs of the hind legs, and is transferred from the combs to the pollen baskets or corbiculæ in a manner to be described later. it will thus be seen that the manipulation of pollen is a successive process, and that most of the pollen at least passes backward from the point where it happens to touch the bee until it finally reaches the corbiculæ or is accidentally dislodged and falls from the rapidly moving limbs. action of the forelegs and mouthparts. although the pollen of some plants appears to be somewhat sticky, it may be stated that as a general rule pollen can not be successfully manipulated and packed in the baskets without the addition of some fluid substance, preferably a fluid which will cause the grains to cohere. this fluid, the nature of which will be considered later, comes from the mouth of the bee, and is added to the pollen which is collected by the mouthparts and to that which is brought into contact with the protruding tongue and maxillæ, and, as will appear, this fluid also becomes more generally distributed upon the legs and upon the ventral surface of the collecting bee. when a bee is collecting from the flowers of corn the mandibles are actively engaged in seizing, biting, and scraping the anthers as the bee crawls over the pendent stamens. usually, but not always, the tongue is protruded and wipes over the stamens, collecting pollen and moistening the grains thus secured. some of the pollen may possibly be taken into the mouth. all of the pollen which comes in contact with the mouthparts is thoroughly moistened, receiving more fluid than is necessary for rendering the grains cohesive. this exceedingly wet pollen is removed from the mouthparts by the forelegs (fig. 5), and probably the middle legs also secure a little of it directly, since they sometimes brush over the lower surface of the face and the mouth. in addition to removing the very moist pollen from the mouth the forelegs also execute cleansing movements over the sides of the head and neck and the anterior region of the thorax, thereby collecting upon their brushes a considerable amount of pollen which has fallen directly upon these regions, and this is added to the pollen moistened from the mouth, thereby becoming moist by contact. the brushes of the forelegs also come in contact with the anterior breast region, and the hairs which cover this area become moist with the sticky exudation which the forelegs have acquired in the process of wiping pollen from the tongue, maxillæ, and mandibles. action of the middle legs. the middle legs are used to collect the pollen gathered by the forelegs and mouthparts, to remove free pollen from the thoracic region, and to transport their load of pollen to the hind legs, placing most of it upon the pollen combs of these legs, although a slight amount is directly added to the pollen masses in the corbiculæ. most of the pollen of the middle legs is gathered upon the conspicuous brushes of the first tarsal segments or plantæ of these legs. [illustration: fig. 5.--a flying bee, showing the manner in which the forelegs and middle legs manipulate pollen. the forelegs are removing wet pollen from the mouthparts and face. the middle leg of the right side is transferring the pollen upon its brush to the pollen combs of the left hind planta. a small amount of pollen has already been placed in the baskets. (original.)] in taking pollen from a foreleg the middle leg of the same side is extended in a forward direction and is either grasped by the flexed foreleg or rubbed over the foreleg as it is bent downward and backward. in the former movement the foreleg flexes sharply upon itself until the tarsal brush and coxa nearly meet. the collecting brush of the middle leg is now thrust in between the tarsus and coxa of the foreleg and wipes off some of the pollen from the foreleg brush. the middle leg brush is then raised and combs down over the flexed foreleg, thus removing additional pollen from the outer surface of this leg. the middle leg also at times reaches far forward, stroking down over the foreleg before it is entirely flexed and apparently combing over with its tarsal brush the face and mouthparts themselves. when the middle leg reaches forward to execute any of the above movements the direction of the stroke is outward, forward, and then back toward the body, the action ending with the brush of the leg in contact with the long hairs of the breast and with those which spring from the proximal segments of the forelegs (coxa, trochanter, femur). as a result of the oft-repeated contact of the brushes of the middle and forelegs with the breast, the long, branched hairs which cover this region become quite moist and sticky, since the brushes of these two pair of legs are wet and the pollen which they bear possesses a superabundance of the moistening fluid. any dry pollen which passes over this region and touches these hairs receives moisture by contact with them. this is particularly true of the free dry pollen which the middle pair of legs collect by combing over the sides of the thorax. [illustration: fig. 6.--a bee upon the wing, showing the position of the middle legs when they touch and pat down the pollen masses. a very slight amount of pollen reaches the corbiculæ through this movement. (original.)] the pollen upon the middle legs is transferred to the hind legs in at least two ways. by far the larger amount is deposited upon the pollen combs which lie on the inner surfaces of the plantæ of the hind legs. to accomplish this a middle leg is placed between the plantæ of the two hind legs, which are brought together so as to grasp the brush of the middle leg, pressing it closely between them, but allowing it to be drawn toward the body between the pollen combs of the two hind legs. (see fig. 5.) this action results in the transference of the pollen from the middle-leg brush to the pollen combs of the hind leg of the opposite side, since the combs of that leg scrape over the pollen-laden brush of the middle leg. this action may take place while the bee is on the wing or before it leaves the flower. the middle legs place a relatively small amount of pollen directly upon the pollen masses in the corbiculæ. this is accomplished when the brushes of the middle legs are used to pat down the pollen masses and to render them more compact. (see fig. 6.) the legs are used for this purpose quite often during the process of loading the baskets, and a small amount of pollen is incidentally added to the masses when the brushes come into contact with them. a misinterpretation of this action has led some observers into the erroneous belief that all or nearly all of the corbicular pollen is scraped from the middle-leg brushes by the hairs which fringe the sides of the baskets. the middle legs do not scrape across the baskets, but merely pat downward upon the pollen which is there accumulating. it is also possible that, in transferring pollen from the middle leg of one side to the planta of the opposite hind leg, the middle-leg brush may touch and rub over the pecten of the hind leg and thus directly place some of its pollen behind the pecten spines. such a result is, however, very doubtful. action of the hind legs. the middle legs contribute the major portion of the pollen which reaches the hind legs, and all of it in cases where all of the pollen first reaches the bee in the region of the mouth. however, when much pollen falls upon the body of the bee the hind legs collect a little of it directly, for it falls upon their brushes and is collected upon them when these legs execute cleansing movements to remove it from the ventral surface and sides of the abdomen. all of the pollen which reaches the corbiculæ, with the exception of the small amount placed there by the middle legs when they pat down the pollen masses, passes first to the pollen combs of the plantæ. when in the act of loading pollen from the plantar brushes to the corbiculæ the two hind legs hang beneath the abdomen with the tibio-femoral joints well drawn up toward the body. (see fig. 7.) the two plantæ lie close together with their inner surfaces nearly parallel to each other, but not quite, since they diverge slightly at their distal ends. the pollen combs of one leg are in contact with the pecten comb of the opposite leg. if pollen is to be transferred from the right planta to the left basket, the right planta is drawn upward in such a manner that the pollen combs of the right leg scrape over the pecten spines of the left. by this action some of the pollen is removed from the right plantar combs and is caught upon the outer surfaces of the pecten spines of the left leg. this pollen now lies against the pecten and upon the flattened distal end of the left tibia. at this moment the planta of the left leg is flexed slightly, thus elevating the auricle and bringing the auricular surface into contact with the pollen which the pecten has just received. by this action the pollen is squeezed between the end of the tibia and the surface of the auricle and is forced upward against the distal end of the tibia and on outward into contact with the pollen mass accumulating in the corbicula. as this act, by which the left basket receives a small contribution of pollen, is being completed, the right leg is lowered and the pecten of this leg is brought into contact with the pollen combs of the left planta, over which they scrape as the left leg is raised, thus depositing pollen upon the lateral surfaces of the pecten spines of the right leg. (see fig. 7.) right and left baskets thus receive alternately successive contributions of pollen from the planta of the opposite leg. these loading movements are executed with great rapidity, the legs rising and falling with a pump-like motion. a very small amount of pollen is loaded at each stroke and many strokes are required to load the baskets completely. [illustration: fig. 7.--a bee upon the wing, showing the manner in which the hind legs are held during the basket-loading process. pollen is being scraped by the pecten spines of the right leg from the pollen combs of the left hind planta. (original.)] if one attempts to obtain, from the literature of apiculture and zoology, a knowledge of the method by which the pollen baskets themselves are loaded, he is immediately confused by the diversity of the accounts available. the average textbook of zoology follows closely cheshire's (1886) description in which he says that "the legs are crossed, and the metatarsus naturally scrapes its comb face on the upper edge of the opposite tibia in the direction from the base of the combs toward their tips. these upper hairs * * * are nearly straight, and pass between the comb teeth. the pollen, as removed, is caught by the bent-over hairs, and secured. each scrape adds to the mass, until the face of the joint is more than covered, and the hairs just embrace the pellet." franz (1906) states that (translated) "the final loading of the baskets is accomplished by the crossing over of the hind-tarsal segments, which rub and press upon each other." many other observers and textbook writers evidently believed that the hind legs were crossed in the loading process. on the other hand, it is believed by some that the middle legs are directly instrumental in filling the baskets. this method is indicated in the following quotation from fleischmann and zander (1910) (translated): the second pair of legs transfer the pollen to the hind legs, where it is heaped up in the pollen masses. the tibia of each hind leg is depressed on its outer side, and upon the edges of this depression stand two rows of stiff hairs which are bent over the groove. the brushes of the middle pair of legs rub over these hairs, liberating the pollen, which drops into the baskets. a suggestion of the true method is given by hommell (1906), though his statements are somewhat indefinite. after describing the method by which pollen is collected, moistened, and passed to the middle legs he states that (translated) "the middle legs place their loads upon the pollen combs of the hind legs. there the sticky pollen is kneaded and is pushed across the pincher (_à traverse la pince_), is broken up into little masses and accumulates within the corbicula. in accomplishing this, the legs cross and it is the tarsus of the right leg which pushes the pollen across the pincher of the left, and reciprocally. the middle legs never function directly in loading the baskets, though from time to time their sensitive extremities touch the accumulated mass, for the sake of giving assurance of its position and size." the recent valuable papers of sladen (1911, 1912, _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, and _e_), who was the first to present a true explanation of the function of the abdominal scent gland of the bee, give accounts of the process by which the pollen baskets are charged, which are in close accord with the writer's ideas on this subject. it is a pleasure to be able to confirm most of sladen's observations and conclusions, and weight is added to the probable correctness of the two descriptions and interpretations of this process by the fact that the writer's studies and the conclusion based upon them were made prior to the appearance of sladen's papers and quite independent of them. his description of the basket-loading process itself is so similar to the writer's own that a complete quotation from him is unnecessary. a few differences of opinion will, however, be noted while discussing some of the movements which the process involves. as will later be noted, our ideas regarding the question of pollen moistening, collecting, and transference are somewhat different. additional details of the basket-loading process. the point at which pollen enters the basket can best be determined by examining the corbiculæ of a bee shortly after it has reached a flower and before much pollen has been collected. within each pollen basket of such a bee is found a small mass of pollen, which lies along the lower or distal margin of the basket. (see fig 8, _a_.) it is in this position because it has been scraped from the planta of the opposite leg by the pecten comb and has been pushed upward past the entrance of the basket by the continued addition of more from below, propelled by the successive strokes of the auricle. closer examination of the region between the pecten and the floor of the basket itself shows more pollen, which is on its way to join that already squeezed into the basket. [illustration: fig. 8.--camera drawings of the left hind legs of worker bees to show the manner in which pollen enters the basket. _a_, shows a leg taken from a bee which is just beginning to collect. it had crawled over a few flowers and had flown in the air about five seconds at the time of capture. the pollen mass lies at the entrance of the basket, covering over the fine hairs which lie along this margin and the seven or eight short stiff spines which spring from the floor of the corbicula immediately above its lower edge. as yet the pollen has not come in contact with the one long hair which rises from the floor and arches over the entrance. the planta is extended, thus lowering the auricle; _b_, represents a slightly later stage, showing the increase of pollen. the planta is flexed, raising the auricle. the hairs which extend outward and upward from the lateral edge of the auricle press upon the lower and outer surface of the small pollen mass, retaining it and guiding it upward into the basket; _c_, _d_, represent slightly later stages in the successive processes by which additional pollen enters the basket. (original.)] if the collecting bee is watched for a few moments the increase will readily be noted and the fact will be established that the accumulating mass is gradually working upward or proximally from the lower or distal edge of the corbicula and is slowly covering the floor of this receptacle. (see figs. 8, _b_, _c_, and _d_.) in many instances the successive contributions remain for a time fairly separate, the whole mass being marked by furrows transverse to the long axis of the tibia. sladen (1912, _b_) notes the interesting fact that in those rather exceptional cases when a bee gathers pollen from more than one species of flowers the resulting mass within the corbicula will show a stratification parallel to the distal end, a condition which could result only from the method of loading here indicated. as the pollen within the basket increases in amount it bulges outward, and projects downward below the lower edge of the basket. it is held in position by the long hairs which fringe the lateral sides of the basket, and its shape is largely determined by the form of these hairs and the direction in which they extend. when the basket is fully loaded the mass of pollen extends laterally on both sides of the tibia, but projects much farther on the posterior side, for on this side the bounding row of hairs extends outward, while on the anterior edge the hairs are more curved, folding upward and over the basket. as the mass increases in thickness by additions from below it is held in position by these long hairs which edge the basket. they are pushed outward and many of them become partly embedded in the pollen as it is pushed up from below. when the pollen grains are small and the whole mass is well moistened the marks made by some of the hairs will be seen on the sides of the load. (see fig. 9, _a_.) these scratches are also transverse in direction and they show that the mass has been increased by additions of pollen pushed up from below. even a superficial examination of a heavily laden basket shows the fallacy of the supposition that the long lateral fringing hairs are used to comb out the pollen from the brushes of either the hind or middle legs by the crossing of these legs over the lateral edges of the baskets. they are far from sufficiently stiff to serve this purpose, and their position with relation to the completed load shows conclusively that they could not be used in the final stages of the loading process, for the pollen mass has completely covered many of them and its outer surface extends far beyond their ends. they serve merely to hold the pollen in place and to allow the load to project beyond the margins of the tibia. the auricle plays a very essential part in the process of loading the basket. this structure comprises the whole of the flattened proximal surface of the planta, except the joint of articulation itself, and it extends outward in a posterior direction a little beyond the remaining plantar edge. the surface of the auricle is covered over with many blunt, short spines and its lateral margin is bounded by a row of short rather pliable hairs, branched at their ends. when the planta is flexed the auricle is raised and its surface approaches the distal end of the tibia, its inner edge slipping up along the pecten spines and its outer hairy edge projecting into the opening which leads to the pollen basket. (see fig. 8, _b_.) with each upward stroke of the auricle small masses of pollen which have been scraped from the plantar combs by the pecten are caught and compressed between the spiny surface of the auricle and the surface of the tibia above it. the pressure thus exerted forces the pasty pollen outward and upward, since it can not escape past the base of the pecten, and directs it into the entrance to the corbicula. the outward and upward slant of the auricular surface and the projecting hairs with which the outer edge of the auricle is supplied also aid in directing the pollen toward the basket. sladen (1911) states that in this movement the weak wing of the auricle is forced backward, and thus allows the escape of pollen toward the basket entrance, but this appears both doubtful and unnecessary, since the angle of inclination of the auricular surface gives the pollen a natural outlet in the proper direction. if the corbicula already contains a considerable amount of pollen the contributions which are added to it at each stroke of the auricle come in contact with that already deposited and form a part of this mass, which increases in amount by continued additions from below. if, however, the corbicula is empty and the process of loading is just beginning, the first small bits of pollen which enter the basket must be retained upon the floor of the chamber until a sufficient amount has accumulated to allow the long overcurving hairs to offer it effective support. the sticky consistency of the pollen renders it likely to retain contact with the basket, and certain structures near the entrance give additional support. several small sharp spines, seven or eight in number, spring from the floor of the basket immediately within the entrance, and the entire lower edge of the corbicula is fringed with very small hairs which are branched at their ends. (see fig. 3.) one large hair also springs from the floor of the basket, somewhat back from the entrance, which may aid in holding the pollen, but it can not function in this manner until a considerable amount has been collected. as the pollen mass increases in size and hangs downward and backward over the pecten and auricle it shows upon its inner and lower surface a deep groove which runs outward from the entrance to the basket. (see fig. 9, _b_.) this groove results from the continued impact of the outer end of the auricle upon the pollen mass. at each upward stroke of the auricle its outer point comes in contact with the stored pollen as soon as the mass begins to bulge backward from the basket. although the process is a rather delicate one, it is entirely possible so to manipulate the hind legs of a recently killed bee that the corbiculæ of the two legs receive loads of pollen in a manner similar to that above described. to accomplish this successfully the operator must keep the combs of the plantæ well supplied with moistened pollen. if the foot of first one leg and then the other is grasped with forceps and so guided that the pollen combs of one leg rasp over the pecten spines of the other, the pollen from the combs will be transferred to the corbiculæ. to continue the loading process in a proper manner, it is also necessary to flex the planta of each leg just after the pollen combs of the opposite leg have deposited pollen behind the pecten. by this action the auricle is raised, compressing the pollen which the pecten has secured, and forcing some upward into the corbicula. bees' legs which have been loaded in this artificial manner show pollen masses in their corbiculæ which are entirely similar in appearance to those formed by the labors of the living bee. moreover, by the above method of manipulation the pollen appears first at the bottom of the basket, along its lower margin, gradually extends upward along the floor of the chamber, comes in contact with the overhanging hairs, and is shaped by them in a natural manner. all attempts to load the baskets by other movements, such as crossing the hind legs and scraping the plantar combs over the lateral edges of the baskets, give results which are entirely different from those achieved by the living bee. [illustration: fig. 9.--inner surface of the right hind leg of a worker bee which bears a complete load of pollen, _a_, scratches in the pollen mass caused by the pressure of the long projecting hairs of the basket upon the pollen mass as it has been pushed up from below; _b_, groove in the pollen mass made by the strokes of the auricle as the mass projects outward and backward from the basket. (original.)] pollen moistening. many descriptions have been written by others of the method by which pollen is gathered and moistened. some of these are indefinite, some are incorrect, while others are, in part, at least, similar to my own interpretation of this process. a few citations will here be given: the bee first strokes the head and the proboscis with the brushes of the forelegs and moistens these brushes with a little honey from the proboscis, so that with later strokes all of the pollen from the head is collected upon these brushes. then the middle-leg brushes remove this honey-moistened pollen from the forelegs and they also collect pollen from the breast and the sides of the thorax.--[translation from alefeld, 1861.] in his account of the basket-loading process alefeld assigns to the middle-leg brushes the function of assembling all of the pollen, even that from the plantar combs, and of placing it on the corbiculæ, this latter act being accomplished by combing over the hairy edge of each basket with the middle-leg brush of the same side. it appears probable that the bee removes the pollen from the head, breast, and abdomen by means of the hairy brushes which are located upon the medial sides of the tarsal segments of all of the legs, being most pronounced upon the hind legs. the pollen is thus brought together and is carried forward to the mouth, where it is moistened with saliva and a little honey.--[translation from franz, 1906.] franz then says that this moistened pollen is passed backward and loaded. since the pollen of many plants is sticky and moist it adheres to the surface of the basket. dry pollen is moistened by saliva, so that it also sticks,--[translation from fleischmann and zander. 1910.] pollen is taken from flowers principally by means of the tongue, but at times, also, by the mandibles, by the forelegs, and middle legs. the brushes of the hind legs also load themselves, collecting from the hairs of the body. the pollen dust thus gathered is always transmitted to the mouth, where it is mixed with saliva.--[translation from hommell, 1906.] sladen considers the question of how pollen is moistened by the honey bee, humblebee (bumblebee), and some other bees, but does not appear to reach definite conclusions. in one of his papers (1912, _c_) he states that the pollen of some plants may be found in the mouth cavity and in the region of the mouth, but he reaches the conclusion that this pollen is comparatively "dry," using the word in a "relative sense." he asserts that "nowhere but on the corbicula and hind metatarsal brushes did i find the sticky pollen, except sometimes on the tips of the long, branched hairs on the back (upper) edges of the tibiæ and femora of the middle legs, and then only in heavily laden bees, where it is reasonable to suppose it had collected accidentally as the result of contact with the hind metatarsal brushes." these and other considerations lead sladen to think that, in the case of the bumblebee at least, the pollen "may be moistened on the hind metatarsus with the tongue." he states that the tongue of the bumblebee is of sufficient length to reach the hind metatarsus (planta) and that it might rub over the brushes of the metatarsi or be caught between them when they are approximated and thus moisten the two brushes simultaneously. however, he has never seen the tongue of the collecting honey bee brought near to the hind legs, and it appears probable to him that it can not easily reach them. "possibly the middle or front legs are used as agents for conveying the honey" (in the case of the honey bee). "in the humblebee the tongue is longer, and it could more easily moisten the hind legs in the way suggested." in an earlier paper sladen (1912, _a_) gives the following as his opinion of the "way in which pollen dust is moistened with nectar," although he states that this is one of the points "which still remains obscure": the only satisfactory manner in which, it seems to me, this can be done is for the tongue to lick the tarsi or metatarsi of the forelegs, which are covered with stiff bristles, well suited for holding the nectar, the nectar being then transferred to the metatarsal brushes on the middle legs, and from these, again, to the metatarsal brushes on the hind legs. the latter being thus rendered sticky, the pollen dust would cling to them. the different pairs of legs were certainly brought together occasionally, but not after every scrape of the hind metatarsi, and their movements were so quick that it was impossible to see what was done. still, several pollen-collecting bees that i killed had the tarsi and metatarsi of the forelegs and the metatarsal brushes of the middle and hind legs moistened with nectar, and i think it probable that the moistening process, as outlined, is performed, as a rule, during the flight from flower to flower. sladen (1912, _c_) also considers the possibility that the fluid which moistens the pollen might be secreted through the comb at the end of the tibia, through the tibio-tarsal joint, or from the surface of the auricle, but finds no evidence of glandular openings in these regions. a suggestion of a similar nature, apparently unknown to sladen, was made by wolff (1873), who describes "sweat-glands" which, he claims, are located within the hind tibia and the planta, and which pour a secretion upon the surface of the corbicula and upon the upper end of the planta through many minute openings located at the bases of hairs, particularly those which arise from the lateral margins of the corbicula. wolff is convinced that the fluid thus secreted is the essential cohesive material by which the grains of pollen are bound together to form the solid mass which fills each fully loaded basket. he noticed that the mouthparts are used to collect pollen, and that some of it is moistened with "honey" or "nectar," but he does not consider that the fluid thus supplied is sufficient to explain adequately the facility with which the collecting bee brings together the scattered grains of pollen and packs them away securely in the baskets. wolff's description of the basket-loading process itself is strikingly similar to that advocated later by cheshire. the writer is not prepared to deny the possibility that the surface of the chitin of the hind legs of worker bees may be moistened by the secretion of glands which lie beneath it, but he is convinced that any fluid thus secreted bears little or no relation to the cohesion of the pollen grains within the baskets. sections and dissected preparations of the hind legs of worker bees show certain large cells which lie within the cavity of the leg and which may function as secreting gland cells; but similar structures occur in even greater numbers within the hind legs of the drone and they are found within the hind legs of the queen. as has been noted, the extreme moisture of the plantar combs and of the tibio-tarsal articulation of the hind leg is readily understood when one recalls the manner in which moist pollen is compressed between the auricle and the tibial surface above it. from the account already given it is evident that, in the opinion of the writer, the mouth is the source from which the pollen-moistening fluid is obtained. it is extremely difficult to determine with absolute accuracy the essential steps involved in the process of adding moisture to the pollen. in an endeavor to solve this problem the observer must of necessity consider a number of factors, among which may be noted (1) the location upon the body of the collecting bee of "moist" and of comparatively "dry" pollen, (2) the movements concerned in the pollen-gathering and pollen-transferring processes, (3) the relative moisture of those parts which handle pollen, (4) the chemical differences between the natural pollen of the flower and that of the corbiculæ and of the cells of the hive, and (5) the observer must endeavor to distinguish between essential phenomena and those which are merely incidental or accidental. in the first place it should be noted that the relative dampness of pollen within the corbiculæ depends very largely upon the character of the flower from which the pollen grains are gathered. when little pollen is obtained it is much more thoroughly moistened, and this is particularly true in cases when the pollen is all, or nearly all, collected in the region of the mouth, the forelegs, and head. when a bee takes pollen from white or sweet clover practically all of it first touches the bee in these regions. it immediately becomes moist, and in this condition is passed backward until it rests within the baskets. there is here no question of "dry" and "wet" pollen, or of collecting movements to secure dry pollen from other regions of the body, or of the ultimate method by which such free, dry pollen becomes moist. the sticky fluid which causes pollen grains to cohere is found upon all of the legs, in the region of their brushes, although the pollen combs and auricles of the hind legs are likely to show it in greatest abundance, since nearly all of the pollen within each basket has passed over the auricle, has been pressed upward and squeezed between the auricle and the end of the tibia and the pollen mass above, and by this compression has lost some of its fluid, which runs down over the auricle and onto the combs of the planta. it is not necessary to invoke any special method by which these areas receive their moisture. the compressing action of the auricle squeezing heavily moistened pollen upward into the basket is entirely sufficient to account for the abundance of sticky fluid found in the neighborhood of each hind tibio-tarsal joint. as has been noted, the brushes of the forelegs acquire moisture directly by stroking over the proboscis and by handling extremely moist pollen taken from the mouthparts. the middle-leg brushes become moist by contact with the foreleg and hind-leg brushes, probably also by touching the mouthparts themselves, and by passing moist pollen backward. the hairy surface of the breast is moistened by contact with the fore and mid leg brushes and with the moist pollen which they bear. the problem of the method of pollen moistening is somewhat more complicated in the case of flowers which furnish an excessive supply. under such conditions the entire ventral surface of the collecting bee becomes liberally sprinkled with pollen grains which either will be removed and dropped or will be combed from the bristles and branching hairs, kneaded into masses, transferred, and loaded. the question naturally arises whether the movements here are the same as when the plant yields but a small amount of pollen which is collected by the mouthparts and anterior legs. in the opinion of the writer they are essentially the same, except for the addition of cleansing movements, executed chiefly by the middle and hind legs for the collection of pollen which has fallen upon the thorax, upon the abdomen, and upon the legs themselves. indeed it is questionable as to just how much of this plentiful supply of free pollen is really used in forming the corbicular masses. without doubt much of it falls from the bee and is lost, and in cases where it is extremely abundant and the grains are very small in size an appreciable amount still remains entangled among the body-hairs when the bee returns to the hive. yet it is also evident that some of the dry pollen is mingled with the moistened material which the mouthparts and forelegs acquire and together with this is transferred to the baskets. in all cases the pollen-gathering process starts with moist pollen from the mouth region. this pollen is passed backward, and in its passage it imparts additional moisture to those body regions which it touches, the brushes of the fore and middle legs, the plantæ of the hind legs, and the hairs of the breast which are scraped over by the fore and middle leg brushes. this moist pollen, in its passage backward, may also pick up and add to itself grains of dry pollen with which it accidentally comes in contact. some of the free, dry pollen which falls upon the moist brushes or upon the wet hairs of the thorax is also dampened. some of the dry pollen which is cleaned from the body by the action of all of the legs meets with the wet-brushes or with the little masses of wet pollen and itself becomes wet by contact. pollen grains which reach the corbiculæ either dry or but slightly moistened are soon rendered moist by contact with those already deposited. little pollen gets by the sticky surfaces of the combs of the plantar or past the auricles without becoming thoroughly moist. sladen (1912, _c_) very aptly compares the mixture of dry pollen with wet to the kneading of wet dough with dry flour and suggests that the addition of dry pollen may be of considerable advantage, since otherwise the brushes, particularly those of the hind legs, would become sticky, "just as the board and rolling pin get sticky in working up a ball of dough if one does not add flour." the addition of a considerable amount of dry pollen gives exactly this result, for the corbiculæ then rapidly become loaded with pollen mixed with a minimum supply of moisture and the brushes remain much dryer than would otherwise be the case. however, if too much dry pollen is added the resulting loads which the bees carry back to the hives are likely to be irregular, for the projecting edges of the masses may crumble through lack of a sufficient amount of the cohesive material by which the grains are bound together. on the other hand, it does not appear at all necessary to mix much dry pollen with the wet, nor do the brushes become sufficiently "sticky" from the presence of an abundance of the moistening fluid to endanger their normal functional activity. i have observed bees bringing in pollen masses which were fairly liquid with moisture, and the pollen combs also were covered with fluid, yet the baskets were fully and symmetrically loaded. sladen's different interpretations of the pollen-moistening process are rather confusing, and it is difficult to distinguish between what he states as observed facts and what he puts forward as likely hypotheses. he agrees with me in his observation that all of the legs become moist in the region of their brushes and also in his supposition that this moisture is transferred to them from the mouth. in this moistening process my observations show that the fluid concerned is passed backward by the contact, of the middle-leg brushes with the wet foreleg brushes and that the middle-leg brushes in turn convey moisture to the plantæ as they rub upon them. i am also convinced that the wet pollen grains furnish additional moisture to the brushes as they pass backward, and this is particularly true in the case of the extremely moist surfaces of the auricles and the pollen combs of the planta, since here moisture is pressed from the pollen upon these areas. the pollen upon the fore and middle leg brushes is not always "dry" even in "a relative sense." in describing pollen manipulation several writers state that dry pollen is picked up by the brushes of the legs and is carried forward to the mouth, there moistened (according to some, masticated), and is then carried backward by the middle legs for loading. obviously such accounts do not apply to cases in which all of the pollen is collected by mouthparts and forelegs. do they apply in cases where much pollen falls on the body and limbs? without doubt a certain amount of this free pollen is brought forward when the middle legs, bearing some of it, sweep forward and downward over the forelegs, mouthparts, and breast. however, it does not appear to the writer that this dry pollen is carried to the mouth for the specific purpose of moistening it, or that it is essential to its moistening that it be brought in contact with the mouth. some of it touches the moist hairs on the forelegs and breast and is moistened by contact. all that remains on the brushes of the middle legs secures moisture from these brushes or from wet pollen which the brushes collect from the mouthparts or forelegs. the supposed necessity of carrying forward pollen to the mouth for moistening is a delusion. some is accidentally brought forward and into contact with the mouth and gets wet, but the process is not essential. if the pollen which bees transport to their hives has been moistened with some fluid substance which causes the grains to cohere, this addition should be indicated by differences in the results of an analysis of pollen from a plant as compared with that found in the corbiculæ of a bee which has been working on this plant. for the sake of determining this difference and in an endeavor to ascertain, if possible, the approximate nature of the added fluid, analyses were made of three kinds of pollen, as follows: (1) pollen collected by hand from the corn plant itself; (2) pollen taken from the corbiculæ of bees which had secured their supply from corn; (3) pollen stored in the cells of the hive. in the first two cases pollen from the same species of plant (corn) was used. the material from the cells of the hive was composed largely of corn pollen, but contained an admixture of some other pollens. the writer is indebted to dr. p. b. dunbar, of the bureau of chemistry, for the following analyses: pollen corn pollen stored direct from pollen from corbicula. from corn. hive. ---------------------------------------------------- total solids 53.47 66.94 79.66 moisture 46.53 33.06 20.34 reducing sugar before inversion 2.87 11.07 17.90 sucrose 2.77 3.06 2.25 total reducing sugar after inversion 5.79 14.29 20.27 ===== ===== ===== dry basis: reducing sugar 5.37 16.54 22.47 sucrose 5.18 4.57 2.82 ---- ---- ---- 10.55 21.11 ····· these analyses show conclusively that a very large amount of sugar has been added to the pollen by the time it reaches the corbiculæ. calculated on a dry basis just about twice as much sugar is present in the basket pollen as in that from the corn plant. not only is this so, but the additional fact is disclosed that over three times as much reducing sugar is present in the corbicular pollen as sucrose. this latter result indicates that honey (largely a reducing sugar) rather than nectar (containing more sucrose) is the chief sugar ingredient of the corbicular pollen. the additional amount of sugar (here again a reducing sugar) in the stored pollen of the hive is what might be expected, since it is supposed that the workers add honey and possibly other ingredients to the pollen within the storage cells. the total solid percentages, corn 53.47, corbicula 66.94, stored pollen 79.66, also show that the fluid substance which is added is one highly charged with solids, a condition which honey amply fulfills. in the descriptions which have been cited of the pollen-gathering process in which the mouth is supposed to supply the requisite fluid three substances are mentioned: nectar, honey, and saliva. the analyses herein given indicate that reducing sugar is mingled with the pollen, and in the case of corn it is indicated that honey is used in greater abundance. without doubt a certain amount of saliva also finds its way to the pollen, but the proportion of this substance has not been determined. this salivary fluid may have adhesive qualities, but this is scarcely necessary, since honey alone is amply sufficient for this purpose. it appears probable that the fluid which a bee adds to the pollen which it is collecting varies somewhat in amount, since the pollen of different plants differs considerably in moisture content and that of the same plant will differ in this respect at different times. pollen collected in the early morning before the dew has left the plant is much more moist than that found upon the same plant later in the day, and the grains, if taken when moist, have a natural tendency to become aggregated and form small masses. moreover, this may explain the fact that bees make their pollen-collecting trips during the morning hours, rather than in the afternoon, although some may be seen upon the flowers throughout the whole day. storing pollen in the hive. when the bee has fully loaded its baskets and before it returns to the hive it often spends a little time upon the plant from which it has been collecting, occupied with the task of cleaning scattered grains of pollen from its body and of patting down securely the loads which it has obtained. upon its return to the hive it hurries within and seeks for a suitable place in which to deposit the pollen. some returning bees walk leisurely over the combs and loiter among their sister workers, while others appear to be greatly agitated, shaking their bodies and moving their wings as though highly excited. many pollen-bearing bees appear eager to receive food upon their return to the hive, and they will solicit it from other workers or take it from the honey-storage cells. the workers of the hive at times take a little of the fresh pollen from the baskets of the laden bee, nibbling it off with their mandibles or rasping off grains with their tongues. if the combs of a colony are examined, stored pollen will be found in various parts of the hive. in the brood frames the greatest amount is located above and at the sides of the brood and between this and the stored honey. cells scattered through the brood from which young bees have lately emerged may also contain pollen. in the outer frames of the hive, where brood is less likely to be found, nearly all of the cells may be packed with pollen, or honey-storage cells may be found interspersed with those filled with pollen. as a rule pollen is not stored in drone comb, although this occasionally happens. as the pollen-bearing bee crawls over the combs it appears to be searching for a suitable cell in which to leave its load. it sticks the head into cell after cell until finally one is located which meets its requirements, although it is an open question as to why any one of a group should be chosen rather than another. this selected cell may already contain some pollen or it may be empty. if partly filled, the pollen which it contains is likely to be from the same species of plant as that which the bee carries, although different kinds of pollen are often stored in the same cell. in preparation for the act of unloading the bee grasps one edge of the cell with its forelegs and arches its abdomen so that the posterior end of the abdomen rests upon the opposite side of the cell. the body is thus held firmly and is braced by these two supports with the head and anterior thoracic region projecting over one of the neighboring cells. the hind legs are thrust down into the cell and hang freely within it, the pollen masses being held on a level with the outer edge of the cell, or slightly above it. the middle leg of each side is raised and its planta is brought into contact with the upper (proximal) end of the tibia of the same side and with the pollen mass. the middle leg now presses downward upon the pollen mass, working in between it and the corbicular surface, so that the mass is shoved outward and downward and falls into the cell. as the pollen masses drop, the middle legs are raised and their claws find support upon the edge of the cell. the hind legs now execute cleansing movements to remove small bits of pollen which still cling to the corbicular surfaces and hairs. after this is accomplished the bee usually leaves the cell without paying further attention to the two pellets of pollen although some collecting bees will stick the head into the cell, possibly to assure themselves that the pollen is properly deposited. it has been stated by some (cheshire, for example) that the spur upon the middle leg is used to help pry the pollen mass from the corbicula. this structure is in close proximity with the mass while the middle leg is pushing downward upon it, but its small size renders difficult an exact estimate of its value in this connection. it is certainly true that the entire planta of the middle leg is thrust beneath the upper end of the pollen mass, but the spur may be used as an entering wedge. pollen masses which have been dropped by the collecting bee may remain for some time within the cell without further treatment, but usually another worker attends to the packing of the pollen shortly after it has been deposited. to accomplish this the worker enters the cell head first, seizes the pollen pellets with its mandibles, breaks them up somewhat or flattens them out, probably mingles additional fluid with the pollen, and tamps down the mass securely in the bottom of the cell. as is shown by the analyses of corbicular pollen and of stored pollen, certain substances are added to the pollen after the collecting bee leaves it in the cell. sugar is certainly added, and it is generally supposed that secretions from some of the salivary glands are mixed with the pollen after deposition. it appears probable that the stored pollen or "beebread" is changed somewhat in chemical composition through the action of the fluids which have been added to it, either during the process of collection, at the time of packing, or later. summary. pollen may be collected by the worker bee upon its mouthparts, upon the brushes of its legs, and upon the hairy surface of its body. when the bee collects from small flowers, or when the supply is not abundant, the mouthparts are chiefly instrumental in obtaining the pollen. the specialized leg brushes of the worker are used to assemble the pollen, collecting it from the body parts to which it first adheres and transporting it to the pollen baskets or corbiculæ of the hind legs. in this manipulation the forelegs gather pollen from the mouthparts and head; the middle legs, from the forelegs and from the thorax; the hind legs, from the middle legs and from the abdomen. the pollen baskets are not loaded by the crossing over of one hind leg upon the other or to any great extent by the crossing of the middle legs over the corbiculæ. the middle legs deposit their loads upon the pollen combs of the hind plantæ, and the plantæ, in turn, transfer the pollen of one leg to the pecten comb of the other, the pecten of one leg scraping downward over the pollen comb of the opposite leg. (see fig. 7.) a little pollen is loaded directly from the middle legs into the baskets when these legs are used to pat down the pollen masses. (see fig. 6.) aside from the foregoing exception, all of the pollen which reaches the baskets enters them from below, since it is first secured by the pecten combs, and is then pushed upward by the impact of the rising auricles, which squeeze it against the distal ends of the tibiæ and force it on into the baskets to meet that which has gone before. the long hairs which form the lateral boundaries of the baskets are not used to comb out pollen from the brushes of any of the legs. they serve to retain the accumulating masses within the baskets and to support the weight of the pollen, as it projects far beyond the surfaces of the tibiæ. pollen grains are moistened and rendered cohesive by the addition to them of fluid substances which come from the mouth. analyses show that honey forms a large part of this moistening fluid, although nectar and secretions from the salivary glands are probably present also. in the process of pollen manipulation this fluid substance becomes well distributed over the brushes of all of the legs. the forelegs acquire moisture by brushing over the mouthparts, and they transfer this to the hairs of the breast and to the middle-leg brushes when they come in contact with them. the middle-leg brushes transmit their moisture to the pollen combs of the hind legs when they rub upon them. all of these brushes also transport wet pollen which has come from the mouthparts and thereby acquire additional moisture. the auricles and the plantæ of the hind legs become particularly wet from this source, since fluid is squeezed from the wet pollen when it is compressed between the auricles and the distal ends of the tibiæ. dry pollen which falls upon the body hairs becomes moist when brought into contact with the wet brushes or with wet pollen. during the process of manipulation pollen passes backward from its point of contact with the bee toward its resting place within the baskets. pollen which the collecting bee carries to the hive is deposited by this bee within one of the cells of the comb. as a rule, this pollen is securely packed in the cell by some other worker, which flattens out the rounded masses and adds more fluid to them. bibliography. alefeld, dr.--vol. 5. nos. 15 and 16. eichstädt bienen zeitung. summarized in "die bienenzeitung in neuer, geschichteter und systematische geordneter ausgabe." herausgegeben vom schinid und kleine: erste band, theoretischer theile. 1861. casteel, d. b., 1912.--the manipulation of the wax scales of the honey bee, circular 161, bureau of entomology, u. s. dept. agriculture, pp. 15. cheshire, f. r., 1886.--bees and bee-keeping; scientific and practical. vol. i, scientific; ii, practical. london. fleischmann und zander, 1910.--beiträge zur naturgeschichte der honigbiene. franz, a., 1906.--in "unsere bienen," herausgegeben von ludwig, a., berlin, pp. [viii]+831. hommell, r., 1906.--apiculture, encyclopedic agricola, paris. phillips, e. f., 1905.--structure and development of the compound eye of the bee. proc. acad. nat. sci. philadelphia, vol. 57, pp. 123-157. sladen, f. w. l., 1911.--how pollen is collected by the social bees, and the part played in the process by the auricle. british bee journal, vol. 39, pp. 491-493, dec. 14. sladen, f. w. l., 1912.--(_a_) how pollen is collected by the honey bee. nature, vol. 88, pp. 586, 587, feb. 29. 1912.--(_b_) further notes on how the corbicula is loaded with pollen. british bee journal, vol. 40, pp. 144, 145, apr. 11. 1912.--(_c_) pollen collecting. british bee journal, vol. 40, pp. 164-166, apr. 25. 1912.--(_d_) how propolis is collected. some further notes on pollen-collecting. gleanings in bee culture, vol. 40, pp. 335, 336, june 1. 1912.--(_e_) hind legs of the worker honey bee. canadian bee journal, vol. 20, p. 203. july. wolff, o. j. b., 1873.--das pollen-einsammeln der biene. eichstädt bienen-zeitung. 29 jahrg. nrs. 22 u. 23, pp. 258-270. index. page. alefeld on pollen moistening by worker bee 23 antenna cleaner of worker bee, figure s auricle of hind planta of worker bee, definition 9 figure 11 role and action in pollen collecting 16-17, 19, 20-22 basket, pollen. (see corbicula.) brush of foreleg of worker bee, action and role in pollen collecting 13 figure 8 hind leg of worker bee, action and role in pollen collecting 16 middle leg of worker bee, action and role in pollen collecting 14-16 figure 9 brushes of legs of worker bee, use in pollen collecting 8-9 bumblebee, moistening of pollen, views of sladen 23-21 cheshire on process of loading pollen baskets by worker bee 17 comb or pecten of hind tibia of worker bee, definition 9 figure 77 role and action in pollen collecting 16-19 corbicula of worker bee, definition 9 figure 10 process of loading 15-22 corn, sweet, pollen collecting therefrom by honey bee 11-13 coxæ of worker bee, figures 8, 9 dunbar, dr. p. b., analyses of corn pollen from plant, from corbiculæ of bees, and from hive cells 28 femora of worker bee, figures 8, 9, 10, 11 fleischmann and zander on process of loading pollen baskets by worker bee 15 flowers, variable amounts of pollen from different plants 10-11 franz on pollen moistening of worker bee 23 process of loading pollen baskets by worker bee 17 hairs, branched, of honey bee, use in pollen collecting 7, 8 fringing pollen basket, function 20 unbranched, of honey bee, use in pollen collecting 7, 8 hommell on pollen moistening of worker bee 23 process of loading pollen baskets by worker bee 18 honey, use by worker bee for moistening pollen 24, 28-29 leg, hind, of worker bee, loaded with pollen, figure 22 legs, fore, of worker bee, action and role in pollen collecting 12, 33 hind, of worker bee, action and role in pollen collecting 13, 16-18 stages in basket-loading process, figure 19 middle, of worker bee, action and role in pollen collecting 13, 14-16 of worker bee, action in unloading pollen 30-31 structures used in pollen collecting 7-9 mandibles of honey bee, action and role in pollen collecting 8, 13 worker bee, use in packing pollen in the cell 31 maxilæ of honey bee, action and role in pollen collecting 8, 13 moistening of pollen by bumblebee, views of sladen 23-24 honey bee 13, 22-29 mouthparts of honey bee, action and role in pollen collecting 8, 13 nectar, supposed use by worker bee for moistening pollen 24-29 palma of foreleg of worker bee, definition 8 pecten of hind tibia of worker bee, definition 9 figure 11 role and action in pollen collecting 16-19 planta of hind leg of worker bee, definition 3 figures 10, 11 structures concerned in pollen collecting 9 middle leg of worker bee, definition 8 pollen, chemical composition 26 collecting by worker bee, bibliography 33 general statement regarding it 11-13 summary of process 31-32 corn, from plant, from corbiculæ of bees, and from hive cells, analyses to determine nature of moistening fluid 28-29 moistening by bumblebee, views of sladen 23-24 honey bee 22-29 storage in the hive 29-31 structures of honey bee concerned in manipulation 7-9 supply of honey bee 10-11 unloading process by worker bee 30-31 saliva, supposed use by worker bee in moistening pollen 23, 29 sladen, observations on process of loading pollen baskets by worker bee 18, 20, 21 views as to pollen moistening by worker bee 23-24, 27 spur of middle tibia of worker bee, figure 9 storing pollen in the hive 29-31 structures of honey bee concerned in manipulation of pollen 7-9 "sweat glands" of wolff within hind tibia and planta of worker bee, supposed function 24 tibia of hind leg of worker bee, modifications and structures for pollen collecting 9 tibiæ of worker bee, figures 8, 9, 10, 11 tongue of worker bee, action and role in pollen collecting 8, 13 trochanters of worker bee, figures 8, 9 wax shears or pinchers, so-called, use in loading pollen by worker bee 7 wolff on pollen moistening by worker bee 24 zander, fleischmann and. (_see_ fleischmann and zander.) * * * * * transcriber's notes although the text uses "middle leg", the term "middle-leg" is always used as an adjective modifying "brush(es)" and was therefore retained. bienen zeitung, bienenzeitung; and bienen-zeitung were all retained. all small captioned text was converted to mixed case. usda forest service research paper nc-52 1971 [illustration] ecological studies of the timber wolf in northeastern minnesota north central forest experiment station forest service u. s. department of agriculture foreword the largest population of timber wolves remaining in the united states (excluding alaska) lives in northern minnesota. many of these wolves inhabit the superior national forest, so protecting the habitat of this endangered species is largely a forest service responsibility. as the "age of ecology" broadens into the 1970's, wolves and wolf habitat will become a subject of concerted research. forest land managers will have to know more about how the timber wolf fits into a forest system. building on nearly 50 years of research in northern forests, we at the north central station intend to expand our studies of wildlife habitat. we are happy to publish the enclosed papers as one step in this direction. d. b. king, director north central forest experiment station d. b. king, director forest service--u.s. department of agriculture folwell avenue st. paul, minnesota 55101 ecological studies of the timber wolf in northeastern minnesota l. david mech and l. d. frenzel, jr. (editors) contents movements, behavior, and ecology of timber wolves in northeastern minnesota l. david mech, l. d. frenzel, jr., robert r. ream, and john w. winship 1 an analysis of the age, sex, and condition of deer killed by wolves in northeastern minnesota l. david mech and l. d. frenzel, jr. 35 the effect of snow conditions on the vulnerability of white-tailed deer to wolf predation l. david mech, l. d. frenzel, jr., and p. d. karns 51 the possible occurrence of the great plains wolf in northeastern minnesota l. david mech and l. d. frenzel, jr. 60 the authors dr. mech, formerly with the department of biology, macalester college, st. paul, minnesota, is now employed by the u.s. bureau of sport fisheries and wildlife, twin cities, minnesota. dr. frenzel, formerly with the department of biology, macalester college, st. paul, minnesota, is now employed by the department of entomology, fisheries, and wildlife, university of minnesota, st. paul, minnesota. dr. ream, formerly with the north central forest experiment station (maintained in cooperation with the university of minnesota), forest service, u.s. department of agriculture, is now employed by the school of forestry, university of montana, missoula, montana. mr. winship is with the u.s. bureau of sport fisheries and wildlife, twin cities, minnesota. mr. karns is with the minnesota department of conservation, forest lake, minnesota. for sale by the superintendent of documents, u.s. government printing office, washington, d.c. 20402 movements, behavior, and ecology of timber wolves in northeastern minnesota l. david mech, l. d. frenzel, jr., robert r. ream, and john w. winship the largest population of wolves (_canis lupus_) remaining today in the continental united states outside of alaska is in northern minnesota. as of mid-1970 this population was not legally protected, and the species, which once ranged over almost all of north america, is now considered by the u.s. department of the interior to be in danger of extinction in the contiguous 48 states. until the present research, the only field studies of minnesota wolves were those of olson (1938 a, b) and stenlund (1955). those investigations provided much useful general information about minnesota wolves and gave the present authors an excellent background with which to begin more detailed investigations. this paper reports on the basic aspects of a series of studies that began in 1964, and concentrates primarily on wolf movements and activity, social behavior, hunting behavior, and population organization. most of the data were collected during january, february, and march 1967; february, november, and december 1968; and january through august 1969. a total of 192 days was spent in the field. according to a distribution map of wolf subspecies (goldman 1944), the race of wolves in our study area is _canis lupus lycaon_. however, evidence presented by mech and frenzel (see page 60) suggests that there may be strong influence by _c. l. nubilus_, a more western race of wolf formerly thought to be extinct (goldman 1944). between 1965 and the present, wolves in the study area were neither protected nor bountied, and the influence of trapping and hunting is thought to have been negligible. the study area this study was conducted in the superior national forest (fig. 1) in northern st. louis, lake, and cook counties of northeastern minnesota (92° west longitude, 48° north latitude), an area well described by stenlund (1955). most of the data were collected from within and immediately south of the boundary waters canoe area, a special wilderness region in which travel by motorized vehicles is restricted. the total study area encompasses approximately 1.5 million acres, and numerous lakes and rivers comprise about 15 percent of this area (fig. 2). the topography varies from large stretches of swamps to rocky ridges, with altitudes ranging from 1,000 to 2,300 feet above sea level (fig. 3). winter temperatures lower than -30° f. are not unusual, and snow depths generally range from 20 to 30 inches on the level. however, an important exception occurred in early 1969 when depths of 45 inches and more accumulated in much of the area. further details on snow conditions in the study area during the period of this investigation are given by mech _et al._ (see page 51). conifers predominate in the forest overstory, with the following species present: jack pine (_pinus banksiana_ lamb.), white pine (_p. strobus_ l.), red pine (_p. resinosa_ ait.), black spruce (_picea_ mariana (mill.) b.s.p.), white spruce (_p. glauca_ (moench) voss), balsam fir (_abies balsamea_ (l.) mill.), white cedar (_thuja occidentalis_ l.), and tamarack (_larix laricina_ (duroi) k. koch). however, as a result of extensive cutting and fires much of the conifer cover is interspersed with large stands of white birch (_betula papyrifera_ marsh.) and aspen (_populus tremuloides_ michx.). detailed descriptions of the forest vegetation were presented by ohmann and ream (1969). [illustration: _figure 1 (left half)--map of the study area._] [illustration: _figure 1 (right half)--map of the study area._ boundary waters canoe area superior national forest] [illustration: _figure 2.--lakes are common throughout most of the study area. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] [illustration: _figure 3.--ridges, islands, swamps, and bays are part of the variable topography in the superior national forest. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] methods the observations discussed in this paper were all made from aircraft, the method of flying being that reported by burkholder (1959) and mech (1966a). the following aircraft were used (in order of size): aeronca champ,[1] supercub, cessna 172, cessna 180, and cessna 206. the smaller aircraft were excellent for holding in tight circles during observations but had the disadvantage of being slow and cold; the larger planes could cover the study area much more quickly and were more comfortable, but were not as maneuverable during observations. for radiotracking, to be discussed below, the best compromise seemed to be a cessna 172. to make observations of wolves, we flew over frozen waterways until tracks were found, and then followed the tracks until we lost them or saw the wolves (fig. 4). several times we located wolves directly just by scanning the lakes. however, because there seemed to be a number of packs in the area, and because most wolves were the same color (with the exception of a few black or white individuals) (see mech and frenzel, page 60), it usually was not possible to follow packs from one day to the next and be certain of identification. moreover, it was impossible to locate any pack at will because most wolves also spent much time inland. [illustration: _figure 4.--an important technique used in the study involved aerial tracking and observing of wolf packs. (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel.)_] therefore, to facilitate our observations and to obtain data on wolf movements and extent of range, we began a radiotracking program in 1968-69. a professional trapper, robert himes, was employed to capture the wolves. using newhouse no. 4 and 14 steel traps at scent-post sets, he caught two wolves, and captured another with a live-snare similar to that used by nellis (1968); the senior author trapped two additional wolves (fig. 5). [illustration: _figure 5.--a wolf caught in a trap. (photo courtesy of d. l. breneman.)_] the four wolves held in steel traps were restrained by a choker (fig. 6), and then anesthetized by intramuscular injections (fig. 7a, b) of a combination of 30 mg. of phencyclidine hydrochloride (sernylan, parke-davis co.) and 25 mg. promazine hydrochloride (sparine, wyeth laboratories) as prescribed by seal and erickson (1969); these drugs proved most satisfactory. [illustration: _figure 6.--a choker was used to restrain wolves caught in traps. (photo courtesy of d. l. breneman.)_] [illustration: _figure 7.--a. a small hypodermic syringe is loaded with drugs. b. the loaded syringe is used on the end of a pole. (photos courtesy of d. l. breneman.)_] the fifth wolf (a female), which was captured around the chest by the live-snare, was handled without drugs. a forked stick was used to hold down her head (kolenosky and johnston 1967), and she offered no resistance (fig. 8). evidently she went into shock or some other psychophysiological state of unconsciousness, for after her release she remained on her side and did not move for 1.5 hours, despite our prodding during the first few minutes (fig. 9). then suddenly she leaped up and ran off. [illustration: _figure 8.--once pinned by the forked stick, the wolf ceased struggling. (photo courtesy of richard bend.)_] [illustration: _figure 9.--after release, the wolf lay still for 1-1/2 hours before jumping up and running off. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] each wolf was examined, outfitted with a radio transmitter collar 15 inches inside circumference (fig. 10) and tagged with identification numbers in both ears (fig. 11). each transmitter was of a different frequency in the 150 mh_z range, emitted a pulsed signal ranging from 75 to 350 pulses per minute, and had a calculated life of at least 300 days (fig. 12). two types of 12-inch whip antennas were used on the transmitters: one type extended up the side of the collar and then stuck out above for 6 inches; the other was fully attached inside the collar and extended up one side, around the top, and partly down the other side. the transmitter, batteries, and antenna were molded into a collar of acrylic weighing 11 ounces (mech _et al._ 1965).[2] all radio equipment functioned flawlessly for at least 5 months, and one transmitter continued operating for at least 9 months. [illustration: _figure 10.--a radio transmitter collar was placed around the neck of each trapped wolf. (photo courtesy of d. l. breneman.)_] [illustration: _figure 11.--each ear of the wolf was tagged with identifying numbers. (photo courtesy of richard bend.)_] [illustration: _figure 12.--each radio collar had a different frequency tuned to special receivers, which allowed each wolf to be identified. (photo courtesy of d. l. breneman.)_] for tracking radio-equipped wolves, a directional yagi antenna (fig. 13) was attached to each of the wing struts of an aircraft and connected inside to a portable receiver. the usual tracking technique was to fly at 1,500 to 3,000 feet elevation to the last known location of the wolf being sought (fig. 14). if a signal was not obtained at that point, the aircraft spiraled upward until the signal was found or until 10,000 feet altitude had been reached. if the signal still was not heard, a search pattern was flown at 10,000 feet. the range of the signal from this altitude was 15 to 35 miles; at 3,000 feet it was 10 to 15 miles. collars with antennas molded fully inside gave only about two-thirds the range of those protruding partly, but could be expected to last longer because the antennas could not break off. it is unknown whether any protruding antennas did break during the study, but on january 5, 1970, one wolf was recaptured, and its antenna had broken. [illustration: _figure 13.--directional yagi antennas fastened to the wing struts of the aircraft were necessary to "home in" on the wolves. (photo courtesy of u.s. bureau of sport fisheries and wildlife.)_] [illustration: _figure 14.--the tracking aircraft was usually flown at altitudes of 1,500 to 3,000 feet. (photo courtesy of dick shank.)_] when a signal was received, the aircraft was headed in the approximate direction of the source until the signal strength reached a peak; a 90° turn was then made in the direction the signal seemed the strongest. a series of these maneuvers soon narrowed the area to the point where visual search was possible. after practice and experience with this technique, we could locate the approximate source of the signal within 10 to 30 minutes after first receiving it. even though the radiotagged wolves spent most of their time inland, often in stands of conifers, they were frequently observed from the aircraft. the technique was to circle at 300 to 800 feet altitude around a radius of a quarter mile from the point where the strongest signal emanated. from december through april, 65 percent of the wolves located by radio were sighted; the rate was much higher for more experienced personnel. a pack of five wolves that was tracked was seen 31 times out of 33 attempts during february and march. whenever wolves were located, radiotagged or not, observations were made from an altitude that did not disturb them. packs varied in the concern shown the aircraft, but only one or two ran from it. the radiotagged wolves, and a pack of 10 to 13 animals, were habituated to the aircraft and usually could be observed from altitudes of 500 feet and less without disturbance (fig. 15). almost all the radiotracking was done from aircraft, but when inclement weather prevented flying, some attempts from the ground succeeded when wolves were close enough to roads. the usual range on the ground was 0.75 to 1.50 miles. one wolf was approached to within 35 feet through radiotracking. [illustration: _figure 15.--the wolves studied soon became accustomed to the aircraft and could then be observed during their natural activity. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] footnotes: [1] _mention of trade names does not constitute endorsement by the usda forest service._ [2] _the acrylic collar was fashioned by the davidson co., minneapolis, minnesota, which also produced some of the transmitters. other transmitters and two radio receivers were manufactured by the avm instrument co., champaign, illinois._ results and observations aerial observations made during this study involved 490 hours distributed as follows: january, february, march 1967--124 hours; february 1968--10 hours; december 1968 through august 1969--356 hours. seventy-seven observations involving a total of 323 wolves were made (table 1), excluding animals located through radiotracking. one male and four female wolves were radiotagged, and they and their associates were followed intermittently for periods of 5 to 8 months (table 2). all except one initially suffered some injury to a foot. three of these animals were seen limping, but only in one case was the limp judged extreme enough to have significantly affected the movements or behavior of the animal. in that one case, the wolf (no. 1057) was caught in a steel trap on an extremely cold night, and her foot froze. after that she was often seen hopping on three legs. she was not able to keep up with her pack, which consisted of 10 to 13 members, and her movements were much restricted compared with those of other wolves. however, she was frequently observed feeding on fresh kills, and may even have made them herself. _table 1.--sizes of wolf population units observed in northeastern minnesota_ #: _number_ %: _percent_ +------------------+-------------------------------------------+ | | wolf observations | |population unit[3]+----------+----------+----------+----------+ |(number of wolves)| winter | winter | total |winters[4]| | | 1966-67 | 1968-69 | | 1948-53 | +------------------+----------+----------+----------+----------+ | # % # % # % # % | | 1 8 31 17 33 25 32 48 43 | | 2 3 12 6 12 9 12 24 22 | | 3 3 12 2 4 5 6 7 6 | | 4 - - 7 14 7 9 7 6 | | 5 2 7 4 8 6 8 8 7 | | 6 3 12 4 8 7 9 7 6 | | 7 2 7 1 2 3 4 4 4 | | 8 3 12 3 6 6 8 3 3 | | 9 - - 2 4 2 3 3 3 | | 10 2 7 2 4 4 5 - - | | 11 - - - - - - - - | | 12 - - 1 2 1 1 1 1 | | 13 - - 2 4 2 3 - - | | --------------------------------------------+ |total number | | of wolves 109 - 214 - 323 - 318 - | |total number | | of observations 26 - 51 - 77 - 112 - | |mean population | | unit size 4.2 - 4.2 - 4.2 - 2.8 - | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ footnotes: [3] because wolf packs sometimes split temporarily, these figures may not strictly represent actual pack sizes; nevertheless they should provide reasonably accurate approximations. [4] from stenlund (1955). _table 2.--background information on five radiotagged wolves studied in northeastern minnesota_ #: _number_ --------:---------:-------:--------:--------:-------:-------:---------- wolf :estimated: usual :location: date : last : days : general --------:weight[5]:associ-:captured:captured: date :located: condition # :sex:(pounds) :ations : : :located: : ----:---:---------:-------:--------:--------:-------:-------:---------- # 1051 m 75 none[6] t62n-r7w nov. apr. 84 good, but two -s18 27/68 24/69 toes frozen in trap; animal limped lightly for 5-6 wks. 1053 f 60 none t62n-r8w dec. aug. 72 thin; top of -s13 10/68 29/69 foot cut in trap but no broken bones or frozen toes; limped for at least 10 wks. 1055 f 60 another t61n-r10w jan. may 65 thin; two toes wolf -s26 5/69 30/69 lightly frozen; intermit no limp ever tently noticed. 1057 f 60 pack of t66n-r5w jan. apr. 47 thin; front 13[7] -s33 8/69 24/69 foot frozen in trap; lost use of foot and could not stay with pack. 1059 f 65 pack t62n-r11w jan. aug. 51 good but thin; of 5 -s26 22/69 29/69 captured in snare; no apparent injury. ----:---:---------:-------:--------:--------:-------:-------:------------footnotes: [5] wolf 1059, when killed by a trapper on january 10, 1970, appeared to be of the same size and condition as when radiotagged; she only weighed 53 pounds, however, indicating that probably all the weights are overestimated. [6] tracks of a pack of at least two other wolves came by trap where 1051 was caught; however, there was never any other indication that 1051 may have been a member of a pack. [7] a frozen foot prevented 1057 from staying with her pack; but she did associate with other wolves intermittently and with the whole pack when it came by her restricted area. the precise ages of the radiotagged wolves were unknown. all individuals, however, had sharp unworn teeth, indicating that they were all relatively young. no. 1051, the only male studied, had testes 2.0 cm. long and 1.5 cm. wide; their volume therefore would be less than 4.5 cc. the small size of these testes, compared with the 7 to 28 cc. reported by fuller and novakowski (1955) as the volume of the testes from wolves taken during fall, would indicate that 1051 had not yet matured. since the animal's testes and canine lengths were considerably greater than those of pups caught in a later study, we presume 1051 was 18 or 30 months old. two of the females, no. 1055 and no. 1059, both captured in january, had vulvas that seemed to be beginning to swell. no. 1059 was killed by a trapper about a year later, on january 10, 1970, and an examination revealed that she had bred in 1969 and carried five fetuses. sectioning her incisors and reading the apparent annulations indicated that she probably was 3+ or 4+ years old.[8] three of the wolves were basically lone individuals. one of these, no. 1051, was captured on a night when tracks of at least two other wolves came by the trap, and this could mean that he had been part of a pack. however, it is also possible that these were merely tracks of non-associated wolves that were also traveling through the area. in any case, 1051 was not seen associating with any other wolf until 4 months after he was caught, and even then the association seemed to be temporary and casual. it could be argued that capture, handling by humans, or wearing a collar prevented him from regaining old associations or making new ones. however, the wolves radiotagged by kolenosky and johnston (1967) were quickly accepted back into their packs, and so were two of ours. thus we conclude that 1051 probably was a lone wolf when captured. when 1053 was trapped, her tracks were the only ones in the area, and she was never seen closely associating with another wolf. no. 1055 probably was with another wolf when captured, as evidenced by tracks. about a month after she was radiotagged she associated with another wolf intermittently for about 2 weeks, after which she was only seen alone. no. 1057 and no. 1059 were both members of packs. no. 1057 was captured during the night after a pack of 13 wolves was seen heading toward the area; 5 days later she was seen with 10 other wolves, which no doubt represented this same pack. this wolf's association with the pack was interrupted, however, because of the foot injury sustained during capture. when 1059 was caught, tracks of two other wolves were seen in the immediate vicinity, and one of the animals was seen within a quarter mile of the trapped wolf. three days after 1059's release, and perhaps sooner, she was back with her pack, with which she remained at least through march. the detailed histories of the associations of the radiotagged wolves will be discussed in a later section. radiotagged wolves were tracked every day that weather permitted during december, january, and february; every week during march, april, and may; and once a month during june, july, and august (fig. 16). information was obtained for a total of 570 "wolf-days"--a wolf-day being a day in which one radiotagged wolf was located; a pack of five being located for 1 day would constitute 5 wolf-days. [illustration: _figure 16.--distribution of the days on which data were obtained for each of the radiotagged wolves. because tracking success was 99 percent, this also represents the distribution of effort. during june, july, and august, wolves 1053 and 1059 were located 1 day each month._] the last day that animals 1051 and 1057 were heard from was april 24, 1969. both had traveled long distances during the previous week and may have moved out of range. signals from wolf 1055 were last heard on may 30; this animal had also been ranging widely. circles with radii of at least 50 miles around the last known locations of each wolf were searched unsuccessfully for the signals. during all subsequent tracking nights for the remaining wolves, the missing animals were also sought, but to no avail. before the last dates that signals from these animals were heard, attempts to locate marked animals from the air had failed in only three instances. footnotes: [8] _david w. kuehn, personal correspondence to l. d. mech, 1970._ daytime activity patterns when radiotagged wolves were located, notes were kept on the type of activity they were engaged in; the results are summarized in figure 17. in a total of 171 observations made between 9:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m., the wolves were resting 62 percent of the time, traveling 28 percent and feeding 10 percent. they tended to travel more before 11:00 a.m. and after 3:00 p.m., although resting still composed at least 45 percent of the activity during every hour (fig. 18). [illustration: _figure 17.--percentage of time spent by radiotagged wolves in various types of activity throughout the day, from december through april._] [illustration: _figure 18.--generally the wolves rested during most of the day. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] these results generally agree with the statement by mech (1966a) that wolves on nearby isle royale tend to rest about 11:00 a.m. and begin traveling again about 4:00 p.m. however, it does appear that the minnesota wolves spend much more of the day resting than do the isle royale animals. the difference may be caused by the difference in pack sizes studied. the isle royale pack of 15 to 16 may have had to travel more to find enough food to feed all its members than did the lone wolves and pack of five in the present study. movements and range wolf movement is greatly hindered by deep, soft snow, so during winter travel, wolves frequently use areas where they sink into the snow the least. in our study area, frozen waterways are used extensively where possible, just as reported by stenlund (1955). where few lakes or rivers exist, wolves follow railroad beds and logging roads, often soon after a plow or other vehicle has driven on them. in cutting cross country through deep snow, wolves travel single file and tend to stick to windblown ridges and to trails of deer and moose. wolves that have ranges small enough to cover in a few days form a network of their own trails, which they can maintain merely by traveling regularly over them. packs on isle royale depended a great deal on such a system of trails (mech 1966a), and so did pack no. 1059 in our study area. wolf packs can travel up to 45 miles in a day but it is usually larger packs that do so (stenlund 1955, burkholder 1959, mech 1966a, pimlott _et al._ 1969). in our study area we sometimes saw evidence of long moves by large packs along strings of lakes and waterways. however, most of our movement data pertain to lone wolves and a pack of five. the daily travel of these animals was usually much less than that reported for large packs. our radiotracking data provide an index to the extent of travel for each wolf rather than the actual amount of travel, for it is based on straight line distances between consecutive points at which an animal was found. this measure will be referred to as the "net daily distance." much variation was found in the net daily distances of wolves, with the longest ranging from 4.5 miles for 1057 to 12.8 for 1055 (table 3). the mean net daily distance for each animal, excluding days with no net movement, varied from 1.5 to 3.6 miles. the movements of these wolves may have been affected by the snow depth and penetrability, for mean and maximum net daily distances suddenly increased for all animals between february 23 and 28, when snow penetrability had decreased to a point where walking wolves would be expected to sink in only about 6 inches (table 4). other possible explanations for the wolves' sudden increase in movements will be discussed below. the straight line distances traveled between consecutive weekly locations (called the "net weekly distances") showed a similar variation (table 3). the maximum net weekly distance for each wolf varied from 4.6 miles for 1059 to 49.0 for 1055, with means ranging from 2.9 to 15.6 miles for the same wolves. no doubt 1059's net weekly distances were relatively short because her total range and that of her pack were much smaller than those of the other wolves. it is difficult to obtain comparable measures of the extent of the ranges covered by each of the radiotagged wolves because their patterns of travel varied so much. thus the figures given in table 5 should be regarded only as gross indicators of the minimum range of each animal. the area figures are especially deceiving in the case of 1055, for she had a horseshoe-shaped range, much of which apparently was not used. _table 3.--straight line distances (miles) between consecutive locations of radiotagged wolves_ #: _number_ %: _percent_ ---------------------------------------------------:--------------------------- : : net weekly : net daily distances : distances :----------------------------------------------:--------------------------- : : : : :mean net : : : : : : : : :distance : : : : : days :days no : days :mean net:per day : :weeks:mean net: wolf: data : net :movement:distance:excluding :range:data :distance: range # :obtained:movement: :per day :days of no: : :per week: : : : : :movement : : : : :--------:--------:--------:--------:----------:-----:-----:--------:------ : # : # % : # % : miles : miles :miles: # : miles : miles 1051 54 13 24 41 76 2.0 2.6 0.0-12.0 22 12.7 1.0-46.0 1053 37 20 54 17 46 1.0 2.1 0.0-5.0 23 6.3 0.0-23.6 1055 46 7 15 39 85 2.9 3.6 0.0-12.8 21 15.6 1.7-49.0 1057 29 11 38 18 62 1.0 1.5 0.0-4.5 15 4.6 0.0-31.0 1059 26 1 4 25 96 2.5 2.6 0.0-5.6 18 2.9 0.0-4.6 ----:--------:--------:--------:--------:----------:-----:-----:--------:------nevertheless, one major piece of information is obvious from the figures: 1059's pack of five wolves had a much smaller range than any of the other uninjured animals--approximately 43 square miles when figured by the minimum-area method (mohr 1947). the next smallest range was that of 1051 (excluding the area of his later dispersal--see below), which was some seven times the size of the pack's range. _table 4.--straight line distances (miles) traveled between consecutive days ("net daily distance") by radiotagged wolves in northeastern minnesota during february 1969_ +-------+-------------------------+-------------------------+ | | mean net | greatest net | | wolf | daily distance | daily distance | |number +------------+------------+------------+------------+ | | feb. 1-23 | feb. 23-28 | feb. 1-23 | feb. 23-28 | +-------+------------+------------+------------+------------+ | 1051 1.1 3.5 2.3 4.8 | | 1053 0.7 2.5 3.0 5.0 | | 1055 2.7 6.2 8.0 12.8 | | 1057 1.0 1.5 4.0 4.5 | | 1059 2.2 3.1 4.0 5.6 | +-------+------------+------------+------------+------------+ there is little published information on the movements and ranges of lone wolves with which to compare our data. mech (1970) summarized information regarding ranges of packs. reported ranges varied from 36 square miles for a pack of two wolves in minnesota (stenlund 1955) to 5,000 square miles for a pack of 10 in alaska (burkholder 1959). considering only data based on intensive study in the same general region (minnesota, isle royale, and ontario) as our study area, the largest range reported was 210 square miles for a pack of 15 to 21 wolves on isle royale (mech 1966, jordan _et al._ 1967). on a per-wolf basis, the ranges in this region varied from 6 to 28 square miles per wolf. our pack of five with its range of 43 square miles would have about 9 square miles per wolf. a more accurate assessment of the ranges of the radiotagged wolves requires an individual discussion for each. _no. 1051._--the range of 1051 was composed basically of three distinct areas (fig. 19). within 10 days after being released, the wolf left the general area of his capture (area a near isabella lake) and traveled to area b along highway 1, some 17 miles to the southwest. from december 9 to january 4 wolf 1051 remained in area b, which covers about 45 square miles. between january 4 and 6 he returned to area a and stayed in 13 square miles until february 3. between february 3 and 5 he shifted to area c east of snowbank lake, 11 miles northwest of area a. he remained in that 16-square-mile area until february 25, then suddenly left and headed 8 miles to the northeast. _table 5.--extent of ranges used by radiotagged wolves_ +--------+----------+----------+--------------+----------------------+ | wolf | greatest | greatest | total area[9]|area[9] of intense use| | number | length | width | | (before late feb.) | +--------+----------+----------+--------------+----------------------+ | _miles_ _miles_ _sq. miles_ _sq. miles_ | | | |1051[10] 28.5 13.6 318 13 (location a[11])| | 45 (location b) | | 16 (location c) | |1053 31.1 22.0 392 31 | |1055 55.4 24.9 997 40 | |1057 32.3 3.8 77 14 | |1059[12] 8.4 8.0 43 39 | +--------+----------+----------+--------------+----------------------+ footnotes: [9] minimum area method (mohr 1947). [10] before dispersal. [11] see text and figure 19. [12] pack of five. [illustration: _figure 19.--locations and range of wolf 1051. lines are not travel routes; rather they merely indicate sequence of locations. only selected lakes are shown._] from february 26 until april 24 the movements of 1051 were strongly indicative of dispersal (fig. 20). his average weekly straight line move during that period was 25 miles (compared with 6 miles per week before this period), and until march 14 he maintained an almost straight south-southwest heading to a location west of the town of castle danger. after that the animal traveled a series of northwest-southwest alternations that on april 3 took him east of big sandy lake to a point 129 miles southwest of where he had begun the dispersal. there he remained for about 2 weeks, but between april 17 and 24 he traveled 26 miles northwest. we last saw him at 3:30 p.m. on april 24 heading northwest through a swamp 15 miles southeast of grand rapids, approximately 122 miles from where he had started. the total of straight line distances between 16 consecutive pairs of locations taken at intervals of from 1 to 8 days was 226 miles, which is the minimum distance the wolf traveled during his dispersal. [illustration: _figure 20.--dispersal of wolf 1051. lines merely indicate sequence of locations. only selected lakes are shown._] we observed 1051 for distances of up to 5 miles during these travels; he maintained a steady trot that seemed faster than usual, and he appeared intent on heading in a straight line. he did chase deer during his travels, and twice was seen feeding on carcasses. in the area where he remained for about 2 weeks, he was twice seen closely associated with another wolf. this relationship will be discussed later. an extensive search was made for 1051's signals on may 2 in an area of at least 50 miles radius from his last known location, but it was unsuccessful. on each subsequent tracking flight, the wolf's frequency was also monitored with no success. possible explanations for the loss of the signal from this wolf include the following: (1) premature expiration of the transmitter, (2) capture of the wolf and breakage of the transmitter, (3) loss of the exposed antenna and consequent reduction of range, and (4) travel of the wolf out of range of the tracking aircraft. during 1051's travels a number of interesting events took place: nov. 27, 1968--captured and radiotagged dec. 4, 1968--crossed road in front of tracking truck dec. 8, 1968--moved to area b dec. 9, 1968--surprised on the ground at distance of 35 feet dec. 18, 1968--chased by loggers with axes dec. 25, 1968--almost shot by trapper who saw collar and withheld fire jan. 5, 1969--returned to area a jan. 13, 1969--"bumped" twice on logging road by loggers in auto but no apparent injury feb. 4, 1969--moved to area c feb. 26, 1969--began long-range southwest movement considered to be dispersal mar. 14, 1969--seen feeding on old carcass within 200 yards of houses, dogs, and a man walking mar. 27, 1969--chased two deer across 4-lane state highway 53 apr. 3, 1969--found with another wolf at point farthest south in his range apr. 24, 1969--last contact with this animal; was seen traveling nw _wolf 1053._--this wolf was basically a scavenger who subsisted for long periods on the remains of old carcasses. she was known to have visited the remains of at least four deer and three moose, and she stayed near one moose carcass from february 8 to 20, at least during the day. between her date of capture, december 10, and february 28, 1053 traveled about in an area of 31 square miles in the arrow lake-maniwaki lake region (fig. 21). [illustration: _figure 21.--locations and range of wolf 1053. only selected lakes are shown._] between february 28 and march 6 she suddenly moved 13 miles to the east-southeast near the sawbill trail, and during the next week she traveled a straight line distance of 24 miles southwest to a point southeast of the town of isabella. her subsequent travels eventually took her over a much larger area. before february 28, 1053's average weekly straight line distance was 2 miles, but after that date it increased to 11 miles. _wolf 1055._--the range of this animal from january 5, when she was captured, to february 23 covered about 40 square miles near stony lake, slate lake, and the jack pine lookout tower (fig. 22), and her mean weekly distance was 4 miles. between february 23 and 24, however, she traveled 13 miles northeastward, the beginning of a series of long moves. by march 5, 1055 had reached crescent lake, a point 39 miles east-northeast of her previous area of intensive use. she then gradually headed back toward the west and south during the next 10 days and within the next month repeated this pattern. when her signal was heard last on may 30, 1055 was near martin landing in the center of her range. her mean net weekly distance after february 23 had increased to 22 miles. [illustration: _figure 22.--locations and range of wolf 1055. only selected lakes are shown._] _wolf 1057._--the movements of 1057 cannot be considered normal because freezing of a front foot prevented her accompanying the pack of which she was a member. nevertheless, even data from an abnormal animal can provide some information. on january 13, 5 days after capture and release on red rock lake, 1057 was located 4 miles from the capture point with a pack of 10 other wolves. she was limping and fell behind when they moved. five days later she was again seen with the pack 12 miles away between knife lake and kekekabic lake. she then remained in about 14 square miles of that general area through april 17 (fig. 23). [illustration: _figure 23.--locations and range of wolf 1057. only selected lakes are shown._] suddenly on april 24, 1057 was found in ontario some 31 miles northeast of her location of the previous week. that was the last time we heard her signal even though on may 2 we scanned an area with a radius of 35 miles from her last known location and listened for her signal during every subsequent flight. _wolf 1059._--this animal was a member of a pack of three to five wolves (see next section). the movements of the group varied little and were concentrated in the august lake, omaday lake, and keeley creek area in about 43 square miles (fig. 24). contrary to animals 1051, 1053, and 1055, this pack did not suddenly begin a series of longer weekly movements in late february. both before and after february 28, the average weekly straight line movement of the pack was just less than 3 miles. [illustration: _figure 24.--location and range of wolf 1059 and pack. only selected lakes are shown._] probably these animals did begin traveling more in late february, for their net daily distances did increase at that time along with those of the other wolves (table 4). however, the increased travel took place within the restricted area of the pack's usual range rather than in new areas as occurred with the other wolves. because 1059 was later found to have bred and carried five fetuses, her movements during whelping season (late april and early may) are of interest. her locations on both april 24 and may 2 were within 250 yards of each other, which might indicate that she was denning. on may 9, however, she was 2.5 miles east of these locations, on the 17th and 21st was 2 miles west of them, and on the 30th was 3 miles north of them. in early january 1970, wolf 1059 was killed by a trapper in the southeast corner of her pack's 1969 range. _summer locations._--signals from only 1053 and 1059 were heard during summer, and then tracking attempts were made only on june 28, july 29, and august 29. locations for 1053 on those occasions were near kelly landing and isabella lake, within her previous range. wolf 1059 was found each time within 2 miles outside of the southwest corner of the pack's winter and spring range. wolf associations, social behavior, and reproduction in our study area, population units of wolves exist as both single animals (lone wolves) and packs. in a total of 77 observations, lone wolves constituted 32 percent of the sightings (fig. 25), with packs of from 2 to 13 members making up the remainder (table 1). on the basis of the number of wolves seen, rather than the number of observations, lone wolves accounted for only 25 (8 percent) out of 323. [illustration: _figure 25.--only 8 percent of the wolves observed were lone wolves. (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel.)_] these figures compare favorably with reports in the literature as summarized by mech (1970). in five areas studied, lone wolves made up from 24 to 60 percent of the observations of population units, and from 8 to 28 percent of the wolves seen. in our study area during 1948 to 1953, lone wolves constituted 43 percent of the observations and 15 percent of the wolves (stenlund 1955). the average size of the population units observed during our study (total number of wolves seen divided by the number of observations) was 4.2, which is significantly larger (95 percent level) than the average seen in this area (2.8) from 1948 to 1953. this is also larger than that reported from any other area of comparable size (table 6). _table 6.--mean sizes of wolf population units reported from various areas_ ---------+------------+--------+------------+---------+-------------- | | |mean size of| largest | authority area |observations| wolves | population |pack size|calculated from | | | unit | | ---------+------------+--------+------------+---------+-------------- _number_ _number_ alaska 310 1,041 3.4 12 kelly 1954 alaska 1,268 4,823 3.8 21 r. a. rausch[13] lapland 118 311 2.5 12 pulliainen 1965 e. finland 460 984 2.1 12 pulliainen 1965 minnesota 112 318 2.8 12 stenlund 1955 minnesota 77 323 4.2 13 present study ---------------------------------------------------------------------footnotes: [13] r. a. rausch. personal correspondence to l. d. mech, 1967. the largest pack seen in our study area included 13 members, and there apparently were at least two such packs. although larger packs than this have been reported, any group containing more than 8 to 10 members is unusually large (mech 1970). wolf sociology is a complex subject and is still not well understood, so the following detailed observations of the associations between our radiotagged wolves and others are given. associations are defined as relationships in which two or more wolves relate in a close, positive manner. as mentioned earlier, 1051 may or may not have been associated with other wolves when he was captured. however, although this animal was observed 55 times throughout winter and spring, only twice was he seen associating with another wolf. probably the same individual was involved each time, because the location was about the same (the vicinity of the juncture of aitkin, carlton, and st. louis counties). the first occasion was on april 3. wolf 1051 in the previous week had moved 46 miles straight line distance from the northeast. he was then observed lying peacefully within 15 feet of another wolf near a freshly killed deer. the very proximity of the two animals implied a positive relationship. on april 7, 10 and 14, 1051 was seen 1 mile, 10 miles, and 8 miles from the kill and was alone each time. however, on april 17, 1051 was back in the general vicinity of the kill, and he and another wolf were resting on an open hillside about 100 feet from each other. as we descended for a closer look, the smaller animal arose and headed to the larger, presumably 1051 because he had not been disturbed by the aircraft. the larger wolf did not arise for several seconds, but eventually followed the other into the woods. no tail raising or other expressive posturing was seen in either wolf. one week later 1051 was 26 miles northwest of the kill traveling alone. wolf 1053 was never seen less than 80 yards from another wolf, and there was no evidence that she ever associated with a conspecific. even when she was seen 80 yards from the other wolf, both were resting, and when the strange wolf left, 1053 made no attempt to accompany or follow it. no. 1055 apparently had been traveling with another wolf when caught on january 5, and tracks showed that the individual had remained near her until we arrived to handle her. tracks found on january 7 and 10 suggested that 1055 was with another animal, but that animal was not seen during any of the six times 1055 was observed through february 1. however, from february 5 to 19, 1055 was with another wolf on eight of the 12 times she was seen. the two animals were observed resting, traveling, hunting, and feeding together. on february 20, and thereafter, 1055 was alone all 14 times she was seen. it is possible that 1055's associate was killed between february 19 and 20. about march 6, a 63-pound male wolf pup was found dead (by mr. charles wick, usda forest service) within about 50 feet of a highway and less than a mile from where 1055 and her associate were seen on february 19. because of the snow conditions, it was judged that the wolf had been killed (probably by an automobile) sometime in february. wolf 1057, whose foot froze during capture, was a member of a pack of 10 to 13 wolves, and was seen with the pack on january 13 and 18. after that she was usually found alone, although on at least five occasions she was with one or more wolves: _no. of_ _period_ _observations_ _associations_ jan. 13 1 10 other wolves jan. 14-17 1 none jan. 18 1 10 or 11 other wolves jan. 19-29 2 none jan. 30 1 1 other wolf jan. 31 to feb. 2 2 none feb. 3-4 2 2 other wolves feb. 5 1 1 other wolf feb. 6-13 6 none feb. 14 1 3 other wolves feb. 15-22 5 none feb. 23 1 10 to 13 other wolves feb. 24 to apr. 24 6 none february 23 she was with the pack at a kill in her usual area, and although the pack left that night, 1057 remained near the kill the next day. presumably this animal would have traveled with pack if she could have. no. 1059 was part of a pack that included three to five members (fig. 26). from january 25, the first time she was observed after release, through april 2, the animal was seen 19 times with two other wolves, eight times with at least three others, and eight times with four others. she was never seen alone until april 17; both times after this when she was seen, may 9 and 21, 1059 was also alone. some insight into the fluctuating size of this pack was obtained on february 27 when the five animals were followed for 2 hours. during that time two members (one of which was larger than the other) often lagged behind the other three by as much as a mile. these two romped and played considerably, with one carrying a stick or a bone part of the time. eventually they caught up again to the other three. the behavior of the two lagging wolves would be consistent with the hypothesis that they were either pups or a courting pair of adults. in either case, they seemed to be an actual part of the pack even though they temporarily traveled separately. [illustration: _figure 26.--one of the radiotagged wolves was a member of this pack of five. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] the fact that 1059 was observed traveling alone three times from april 17 to may 21 may be further evidence that the pack had a den in the area at that time. the presence of a den allows individual pack members to venture off singly and return each day to a known social center, as murie (1944) observed, so they do not need to travel with each other to maintain social bonds. wolves in our area breed during the latter half of february (see below), and the young should be born in the latter half of april. since dens are prepared a few weeks in advance (young 1944), pack members might be expected to begin traveling singly in mid-april. some information on social relations within our radiotagged pack of five was also obtained. one of the members could often be distinguished from the others by its reddish cast and this individual appeared to be the pack leader or alpha male (schenkel 1947). in urinating, this animal lifted his leg, a position seen almost exclusively in males. except for only two temporary occasions, this animal always headed the pack, which usually traveled single file. the second wolf in line generally was noticeably small, possible a female, and the third wolf was twice identified as 1059 on the basis of sightings of her collar. the leader often gained a lead on the other wolves, especially during a chase (see below), much as reported for a lead wolf on isle royale (mech 1966a). upon returning to the lagging members of the pack, this animal usually held his tail vertically, an expression of social dominance (schenkel 1947). on two occasions he led chases against strange wolves and demonstrated the highest motivation (see below). the leader was also the most active in his reactions when scent posts were encountered. because the function of scent-marking behavior is still unknown, it is important that detailed descriptions of the natural behavior of free-ranging wolves around scent posts be made available (fig. 27). thus the following excerpt from field notes by mech dated february 27, 1969, is presented: [illustration: _figure 27.--feces, urine, and scratching in a conspicuous spot indicate a wolf "scent post." (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] "when they [the three wolves] came to a small frozen pond, where the wolf trail [which they had been following] branched and there were some packed down areas, they became quite excited [fig. 28]. this was especially true of the reddish wolf. he nosed several spots, and scratched around them. usually his tail was vertical. he defecated at one spot, and right afterwards another wolf did. after about 2 minutes that pack went on. [illustration: _figure 28.--a pack of wolves investigating a scent post. the raised tails indicate their excitement. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] "about 15 minutes later the 2 'satellite' wolves arrived at this spot, hesitated, nosed around but continued on after less than a minute. "the three wolves meanwhile came to a junction of 2 logging roads. there they nosed around, scratched, and acted much as described above. again the reddish wolf was most active and had its tail up. "when the last 2 wolves came to this spot, they nosed around, ran back and forth, and 1 defecated. they then headed on a different branch of the trail than the first 3 had gone on just 10 minutes before. "the first 3 wolves meanwhile were running along a logging road but eventually they circled and one other than the reddish one headed across a swamp toward the last 2. then the reddish one and the other followed this one, and they met the last 2 on a ridge. there was the usual tail wagging, then all headed off together in a new direction. they passed the first scent post again and there was some nosing by the reddish wolf but little hesitation. "when they traveled, one wolf lagged behind by 150 yards. the wolf just ahead of it had its tail vertical part of the time, as did the reddish leader. "soon the pack came upon another area packed with wolf tracks on a pond. there they followed every little trail, nose to the ground, wagged tails, grouped together often, chased each other, rolled over, etc. for 6 minutes. the reddish animal had tail up most of the time. "the wolves continued on, and we left them about 1 mile s.w. of the s.w. arm of bald eagle lake [at 6:05 p.m.]." unfortunately it was not known whether the trails that the wolves were following were their own or those made by other wolves. significant aspects of the above observation are (1) the spirited initiative of the leader, (2) the amount of time spent in scratching, urinating, and defecating, (3) the decision of the last two wolves to take a different route from that of the first three even though their goal seemed to be to catch up to the first three, and (4) the fact that the scent posts were located at trail junctions. in the last regard, we often noted from the ground that wolves urinated at the junction of newly formed human trails heading perpendicularly from roads they were following. copulation in wolves was only observed once during our study, on february 19, 1969. two members of a group of four were seen coupled for 2 minutes on kekekabic lake. on isle royale, which is at the same latitude, copulations were witnessed on february 21, 24 and 27 (mech 1966a). on april 17, a den west of big moose lake known to have been used at least intermittently for 13 years was seen from the air to have fresh activity of some kind in the snow in front of it, and on april 24 we saw a wolf at the mound. a few days later, two local human residents unaware of our interests approached this den and looked in. an adult wolf, presumably the bitch, leaped over their heads and fled the area. the men then dug up the den and removed six pups whose eyes had not yet opened. intraspecific intolerance and indifference instances of chasing or attack by a pack of wolves on conspecifics not a part of their group have been described by murie (1944) and mech (1966a). observations of such behavior are important in trying to determine conclusively whether or not wolves are territorial. pimlott _et al._ (1969, p. 75) wrote "it still is not clear, however, whether or not their use of range should be defined as territorial." mech (1970) summarized the available evidence for territoriality in wolves and postulated that it may be spatiotemporal such that packs might avoid each other at any particular point in time but over a long period might cover the same area at different times. a number of our observations are pertinent to this question, for we have evidence of both, tolerance and intolerance between population units of wolves. two direct cases of intolerance were observed, both involving the radiotagged pack and other wolves within the usual range of the pack. following is a direct quote from the field notes of mech: "feb. 7, 1969--about 11:30 a.m.--aerial and visual--1059 and 2 other wolves traveling overland about halfway between heart l. and august l. (r10w-t61 n. sect. 17 center). they were traveling quickly and intently along a fresh wolf trail, with a lighter reddish individual in the lead. the other 2 animals were darker colored, and one of them was smaller than the other. one of them must have been 1059. "we soon found that about half a mile ahead of the pack was a dark wolf hurrying away from the three. this animal often looked back and ran whenever it encountered good running conditions. it soon became obvious that the pack of 3 was chasing this individual. because it [the lone wolf] often broke its own trail, the pack gradually gained on this animal. the single wolf flushed a deer which ran when the wolf was about 75 feet away and floundered in the snow, but the wolf continued hurrying on by. "although the deer ran only about 50 yards and stopped, the pack of 3 also hurried on by. the single wolf flushed another deer, ignored it, and continued by, as did the pack of 3. the chase continued for 2 miles as we watched, into the n.e. corner of sect. 18 and then into the n. central part of sect. 8, and the pack got to within 150 yards of the single wolf. "however, at this point, the 2 darker members of the pack had fallen about 100 yards behind the lead one. the lead animal stopped and waited for them, as it had done a few times before. it then turned around and headed back to these animals. when they met, the reddish animal's tail was held vertically and there was much tail wagging by all for about 1 minute. then all animals lay down for a minute and then went up on a knoll. there was much activity and 'playing' on the knoll. (12:10 p.m.) "the single wolf continued running and looking back for at least another mile. we left at 12:21 p.m. "at 4:07 p.m. we saw a single wolf running across a small lake and looking behind it about 8 miles n.w. of these animals. the creature behaved the same as the one being chased today, and we wondered whether it could be the same animal." on february 18, 1969, ream made a similar observation, as follows (quoted from his field notes): "got visual sighting on 1059 with 3 other wolves at 11:55 about a mile west of omaday lake and they were running along fairly fast on a trail. when we circled a second time we saw 2 wolves curled up sleeping on a knoll ahead (south) of the running pack. we then realized the running wolves were on the trail of the sleeping wolves and when the pack of 4 with 'red' in the lead was about 50 yards from the knoll the 2 sleeping wolves jumped up and charged away in the opposite direction full tilt, and split and went in 2 directions. when the pack reached the knoll they started off on the trail of the wolf that headed n.e. and then changed and went after the one that headed s.w. the reddish wolf was in the lead and really picked up the pace. although the reddish wolf seemed to gain on the chased one 3 or 4 times, the pack as a whole couldn't catch up, even though the single was breaking trail. the reddish wolf, after gaining, always stopped and waited for the others or went back to find them. they chased this wolf for 2-1/2 to 3 miles, all the way down to highway 1 at a point 3.0 miles from the lab [kawishiwi field station, u.s. forest service]. there was a dense patch, 10-15 acres, of woods just before highway 1 and we lost sight of the chased wolf for a while and also the 4 when they entered it, but shortly we found that the chased one had somehow doubled back and was heading n.e. again. the pack was apparently confused for at one point 3 of them were wandering back and forth on highway 1, apparently looking for the trail of the chased wolf. two of these paralleled the highway for a couple hundred yards and then stopped on top of a hill, apparently resting. during this chase both the single wolf and the pack chased up deer from their route of travel and didn't seem to pay much attention to them, even though some were really floundering in the deep snow. we finally stopped watching all of this at 1:30 p.m. and proceeded on our rounds." on february 21 we also saw a single wolf running and looking behind several times on ojibway lake. even when it saw a fisherman on the lake within 1/8 mile, it continued across to the opposite shore seeming most intent on avoiding whatever was on its trail. presumably it had also been chased by a pack. the cases of tolerance or indifference that we witnessed between wolves involved our lone animals. on january 27, 1051 was at a kill he had made the day before, and another wolf was sitting within 100 feet looking toward the carcass. eventually the unidentified wolf left without approaching any closer. a lone wolf was also seen near 1053 in the general vicinity of a moose carcass, which probably both were feeding on at different times. three such observations were made, on february 10, 15, and 18; and on february 21 another wolf was also seen near 1053 some 2.5 miles away from the moose carcass. in all cases, the two animals were 80 to 200 yards apart in open country and must have been aware of each other's presence. hunting, killing, and feeding behavior the primary prey of most wolves in our study area is the white-tailed deer (fig. 29), but some moose (fig. 30) are also killed. we have examined the remains of six moose that were eaten by wolves, two of which were killed by them (fig. 31). one was found on february 25, 1967, on gillis lake and the other on march 7, 1969, on twinkle lake. these locations are within 3 miles of each other, suggesting that a wolf pack in that area may be more accustomed to preying on moose than other packs. the other four moose carcasses were found in other parts of the study area, but circumstances were such that the causes of death of those animals could not be determined. a discussion of the details of wolf-moose relations in our study area must await the collection of additional data. [illustration: _figure 29.--the main prey of wolves in northern minnesota is the white-tailed deer. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] [illustration: _figure 30.--moose are also killed by wolves. (photo courtesy of allan taylor.)_] [illustration: _figure 31.--only a few wolf-killed moose were located during the study. (photo courtesy of laurence pringle.)_] the remains of 93 wolf-killed deer, and 49 probable wolf-kills, were examined for age, sex, and condition and were compared with a sample of 433 hunter-killed deer from the same general area. the wolf-killed deer were generally much older than the hunter-kills and had a significantly higher percentage of jaw and limb abnormalities (see mech and frenzel, page 35). until recently the only observations of wolves hunting deer were those reported by stenlund (1955) for northern minnesota. he described two reports of actual observations and two reports of interpretations of tracks in the snow, all successful hunts. since that time several descriptions of successful and unsuccessful hunts have also been published (mech 1966b, rutter and pimlott 1968, pimlott _et al._ 1969, mech 1970). nevertheless, many more observations must be made before generalizations can be formed. during the present study we were able to witness a number of hunts from the air and piece together others based on tracks. the following descriptions are quoted from the field notes of mech: "26 january 1967. about 3/4 mile n.e. of alice lake. "jack burgess [pilot] and i were following a pack of 8 wolves, when at 4:15 they veered from their former line of travel, about 30°. they were then about 200 yards from 2 deer. they began wagging their tails when about 175 yards from the deer. one deer, on the edge of a steep bank, was lying, but one was standing about 75 yards n. of it in open hardwoods. the wolves continued toward the latter deer. "this deer remained standing in the same place until the wolves approached to within about 100 feet of it. the lead wolf stopped, when that distance from the deer, and the others caught up but also stopped when within about 25 feet behind the lead wolf. by this time the deer, whose body was facing away from the wolves, had its head turned back over its shoulder toward the wolves. the wolves and the deer remained absolutely still while staring at each other, 100 feet apart, for 1-2 minutes, while we made several circles. "suddenly the deer bolted, and instantly the wolves pursued. i am fairly certain that it was the deer that bolted first, but could be mistaken. the action was almost simultaneous. the deer headed toward the other deer near the top of the high bank. this animal had been lying but had arisen when the wolves were about 150 yards away. "the lead wolf followed in the deer's trail, but the others cut toward the bank. this flushed the second deer (near the edge of the bank), which ran down the bank. meanwhile when the first deer reached the edge of the bank, it headed due w. along the top of it. only the lead wolf pursued this animal. the other deer had headed down the bank to the s.e., and at least a few of the wolves followed it. "we could not watch both deer, so we continued following the first. the deer had no trouble in snowdrifts, but the wolf was hindered by them. the wolf followed the deer for about 200 yards along the top of the bank, and then gave up after losing ground. the wolf had run a total distance of about 250-275 yards. he then lay down and rested. "we noticed at least 3 wolves stopped part way down the bank in the trail of the second deer. however, we did not see the remaining wolves or the second deer. "eventually (after about 5 minutes), these wolves joined the first, and all rested. at 4:25 p.m., one wolf started toward a third deer, which had been lying under a tree while the former chase took place. the deer was about 150 yards from where the wolves rested, and it had stood before the wolf started toward it. we could not see whether the deer or wolf bolted first, but suddenly both animals were bounding away. the wolf chased the deer about 125 yards and gave up after losing ground. the other wolves followed slowly in its trail, and all assembled and rested. the deer continued running for at least 1/4-mile." "27 february 1969. 2 miles n. of august lake. "1059's pack of 5 was heading n.e. at 4:10 p.m. when they got to within 100 yards of 2 standing deer. the deer had been standing alertly in a shallow draw, and when at least 2 wolves got to within 100 yards, they fled. the wolves began running after them. "the deer were in snow up to their bellies and had to hesitate slightly at each bound. but they ran fast. we could only see one wolf very much [of the time]. it was also having a difficult time in the snow, and after a total run of about 250 yards (100 to the deer's original location and 150 after the deer), the wolf lay on the snow and rested about 10 minutes. the deer ran only about 200 yards more and stood alertly for the next 20 minutes at least. the wolves then went on. "27 march 1969. about 2 miles s.e. of central lakes, minnesota. "at 3:00 p.m. while we were following wolf 1051 by aircraft in above location, we saw a deer running very quickly on top of the crusted snow and then stand and watch its backtrail. about 1-1/2 minutes later we saw 1051 running along the same route. we did not see when the deer fled again, but saw it running about 100 yards from the wolf and doubling back paralleling its original route. when the wolf got near the approximate doubling-back point, he lay down and rested for about 5 minutes. the deer continued fleeing for about 350 yards, stopped, and for several minutes faced its backtrail. the wolf finally continued on in his original direction, giving up the chase. "at 4:30 p.m.--1-1/2 miles s. of central lakes, minnesota--wolf 1051 had come to within 100 yards of [four-lane] highway 53 and was hesitant to approach it. several cars were going by in both directions. thus the wolf headed s. parallel with the highway about 150 yards e. of it. "suddenly two deer, which we had noticed s. of the wolf earlier, fled across the highway. the wolf soon got to the point where they crossed, hesitated about a minute and then ran across. no cars came at that time. "we could not always see the deer or the wolf when w. of the road because there were several patches of evergreens. the wolf did head straight w. after crossing the road. then about 250 yards w. of this point we saw a deer come out onto an old woods road which lay in a n.w.-s.e. axis. the deer ran n.w. on the road and then we saw the wolf where the deer had come out onto the road. while the deer ran n.w., the wolf cut into the woods to his right, n.e. we could not see it then but presumed it was running n.w. paralleling the road. "after the deer had run about 50 yards up the road, it also headed n.e. into the evergreens. within a few seconds it fled right back out and started s.e. down the road. the wolf was about 50 feet behind it and began gaining. "when the deer got back to where the wolf had headed into the woods from the road before, it also headed n.e. into the woods. the wolf was then about 20 feet away and the deer was headed n. around in a circle with the wolf closing in on the outside. the wolf did not emerge from the evergreens for at least 15 minutes, nor did we see the deer, so i presume the wolf killed the deer. [but see entry for april 1.] "1 april 1969. dan frenzel and i searched the area described on march 27 for 1 hour and found no sign of a kill. old wolf tracks were seen, but only a single wandering track. no concentration such as usually seen at kills. best conclusion is that 1051 did _not_ kill the deer where seen from the air march 27." we also saw 1055 and her associate actually kill a deer, on february 6, 1969, but we did not realize what was going on and it happened so fast that we only saw a wolf rushing and biting at the front end of the downed animal. the chase had to have lasted only a few seconds. in addition to the above direct observations, we also were able to piece together from tracks in the snow the chase and successful encounter between a single wolf and a deer in two instances. in the first case, on january 25, 1967 (11:50 a.m.), we arrived at the scene (near grub lake, just n. of snowbank lake) within an hour of the encounter, and the wolf was still feeding on the deer, which had been a 2-1/2-year-old female. mech examined the area from the ground and made the following observations: "the deer had come s.w. down the middle of the lake at a fast walk, turned around, backtracked a few yards and headed to the n.w. shore of the lake. meanwhile a wolf had come at a trot along the deer's track, but it had cut to the n.w. shore about 50 yards n.e. of where the deer had. when still on the ice about 15 feet from shore, the wolf began running as evidenced by his long bounds. he continued running inland about 50 feet from shore toward the deer. the deer had walked inland from the shore and may have stood there about 25 feet from shore. suddenly it had bounded away. the bounding wolf track was in the same trail as the deer's for about 25 yards but then it paralleled the deer's about 5 feet away on the inland side. after about 125 yards from where the deer flushed, the deer was pulled down. it was _not_ on its side but rather had sunk into the snow in more-or-less of an upright position. "apparently the deer had just about reached the shore when the wolf noticed it, and it detected the wolf. at this time the wolf must have been up the shore about 50 yards where his tracks first showed he began bounding. there was no sign that the wolf had spotted the deer on the lake and had tried to cut it off from shore by running inland along the shore and then waiting for the deer to come inland. once the wolf had begun bounding, he continued until he pulled the deer down.... sign showed that the deer dropped within about 20 feet of where she had begun bleeding." the second case involved a 5-1/2-year-old buck, no. m-28, which had arthritis of his right hind foot and probably had defective gait (see mech and frenzel p. 35). the attack took place on basswood lake on february 2, 1967, and excerpts from field notes by mech follow: "a single wolf had killed this deer after chasing, following, or tracking the deer about 3.75 miles. the deer's last 350 yards was a fast walk--the tracks were one in front of the other and about 2 feet apart, and there was no leaping or bounding. same with the wolf--a fast trot. "where the tracks came together, the deer apparently had fallen, but there was no blood. from there, the deer dragged its feet or the wolf for about 25 feet and then went down again. the wolf circled the deer, and for the next 150 feet, the 2 animals had fought or scuffled and then the deer had gone down where we found it. "the 4-mile persistence of this wolf--whether tracking, following, or chasing the deer--is remarkable [compared with most chases] and makes me believe the wolf had good reason to believe it could kill the deer." our observations of wounds on fresh kills confirm the following description by stenlund (1955, p. 31) of the location and manner of attack of wolves on deer: "no evidence of hamstringing of deer was found on freshly killed carcasses, although the possibility does exist. usually deer are run down from behind, the wolf or wolves biting at the hind flanks and abdomen, or at the hind flanks and head region simultaneously." on each kill, all the flesh and much of the skin and bones were eaten, at least during the winters of 1966-67 and 1967-68. this was also true during december 1968 and much of january 1969. however, during february and march 1969 when an unusual accumulation of snow had built up, most of the kills were only partly eaten (see mech _et al._, page 51). in previous years deer freshly killed by single wolves were sometimes found with only a few pounds of flesh or viscera missing. however, in each case the carcasses were almost completely cleaned up within a few days, often by packs to which the single wolves may have belonged (mech 1970). usually the first parts of a carcass to be eaten are the hams and part of the viscera from the coelomic cavity. in one case where a wolf was interrupted while feeding it was apparent that the animal had been stripping the omental fat from the carcass. this may be the wolf's favorite part of a deer, for the stomach of one wolf that we examined in january 1967 contained nothing but such fat. the average consumption and kill rate of deer by wolves has not yet been determined, but we have some information bearing on the subject. because our data were obtained during a winter of unusually deep snow, and it was obvious that wolves were killing more deer than they could eat at the moment (see mech _et al._, page 51), our figures should be considered much higher than average. however, they should be useful in that they probably represent the maximum kill rate not only throughout the year but also throughout a period of many years. by observing each of our radiotagged wolves whenever possible and noting whether or not it was feeding on a kill, we learned that our wolves generally remained close to their kills for periods of from 1 to 7 days, depending on how recently they had eaten (fig. 32). thus, when a wolf was found at a new location each day, the assumption could be made that the animal did not currently have a kill. [illustration: _figure 32.--periods spent by radiotagged wolves and their associates feeding on kills judged to be their own. this does not include periods when they were known to be feeding on carrion._] we assumed that wolves found at fresh kills (fig. 33) had made them unless there was evidence to the contrary as with 1053, the scavenger. when a wolf was found at one location for several consecutive days but could not be observed, we assumed it was feeding on a kill, since whenever wolves were observed remaining in the same location for several days they were seen feeding. thus a range of possible number of kills per wolf was determined, with the lower limit being the known minimum and the upper limit the possible maximum. when more than one wolf fed on a kill, as with the pack, the figures were calculated on a per-wolf basis. [illustration: _figure 33.--radiotagged wolf (upper left) found at kill (lower right). (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel.)_] in this way we obtained data on a total of 468 wolf-days and found a total kill of 35 to 48 deer (table 7). this averages out to a kill rate of one deer per 10 to 14 days per wolf. the figure varied considerably among individuals--1051 had the highest rate of one kill per 6.3 to 7.2 days, and each wolf in 1059's pack had the lowest rate (except for 1053, the scavenger) of one deer per 14.0 to 18.0 days. it is significant that the pack of five wolves had a lower kill rate per wolf than did single wolves and pairs. this is explainable because the ability of wolves to kill deer during early 1969 was much greater than usual (see mech _et al._, p. 51). thus single wolves probably could kill deer just as easily as could packs, but they did not need to share them. this differs markedly from the situation on isle royale, where lone wolves usually feed only on moose remains left by packs (mech 1966a, jordan _et al._ 1967). that lone wolves had more of a food surplus than those in the pack is confirmed by the figures on the average number of days that the various wolves fed on kills (table 7). wolf 1051 spent an average of only 2.2 to 2.4 days feeding at each of his kills, whereas 1059's pack of five spent an average of 5.8 to 7.5 wolf-days at each kill. further confirmation is found in the fact that even when most wolves were leaving their kills partly uneaten, a pack of 8 to 10 wolves (probably that to which 1057 belonged) was seen completely devouring a kill. _table 7.--kill rate of deer by radiotagged wolves and their associates_ #: _number_ ------------------------------------------------------------------------- wolf-days wolf wolf-days wolf-days wolf-days feeding # wolves dates of data kills per kill[14] feeding per kill ------------------------------------------------------------------------- # # # mean # # mean # 1051 1 nov. 26 to 101 14-16 6.3-7.2 33-40 2.2-2.4 apr. 3 1053[15] 1 dec. 14 to 75 2-3 25.0-37.5 9-18 4.5-6.0 mar. 27 1055 1-2 jan. 9 to 61 4-9 6.7-15.0 13-25 2.8-3.3 mar. 14 1057 1-13 jan. 24 to 51 5-7 7.3-10.2 25-33 4.7-5.0 feb. 28 1059 5 jan. 25 to 180 10-13 14.0-18.0 75 5.8-7.5 mar. 14 -------------------------------------------------------------------------summary 22 nov. 27 to 468 35-48 [16]9.8-13.4 145-181 [17]3.8-4.1 apr. 3 before 142 7-9 [18]15.7-20.3 39-56 5.1-5.6 feb. 1 after 326 28-39 8.4-11.6 106-125 3.2-3.8 jan. 31 -------------------------------------------------------------------------footnotes: [14] kill rate per wolf. [15] figures for this animal are so low because she was basically a scavenger. [16] average kill rate per wolf for all radiotagged wolves and their associates, derived by dividing total number of wolf-days by total number of kills. [17] average number of days that each wolf spent at each kill, derived by dividing total number of wolf-days spent feeding by the total number of kills. [18] this figure probably is the closest to the actual kill rate during most winters. therefore it is probable that the kill rate per wolf for members of the pack of five is much closer to the usual average winter kill rate. it can still be considered higher than the usual winter rate, however, because this pack also was leaving some of its kills partly uneaten. a reasonable approximation of the average kill rate during most winters would be the rate found for our radiotagged wolves before february 1, because the relations among the wolves, the deer, and the snow during that period were not unlike those of most winters. the average kill rate per wolf before february 1 was estimated at one deer per 15.7 to 20.3 days. after this period, the rate increased to about one deer per 8.4 to 11.6 days, and an estimated 50 percent of the available food was left uneaten (see mech _et al._, page 51). this implies that the kill rate during february and march was about twice as high as usual. on this basis, the usual kill rate would be estimated at one deer per 16.8 to 23.2 days, which checks well with the rate found before february (one deer per 15.7 to 20.3 days). thus we feel that an estimated kill rate of about one deer per 18 days per wolf is a close approximation of the average kill rate for most winters. this is about 50 percent less than the kill rate of one deer per 4 days estimated by stenlund (1955) for two packs of three wolves (one deer per 12 days per wolf). however, it compares favorably with the actual kill rate of one deer per wolf per 17.6 days found for a pack of eight wolves in ontario.[19] once the average rate of kill is known, the average food consumption per wolf can be calculated. the average deer (considering both fawns and adults) from the superior national forest during winter weighs about 113 pounds (calculated from erickson _et al._ 1961), and an arbitrary 13 pounds can be deducted from this for inedible portions. this leaves 100 pounds of deer per wolf per 18 days, or 5.6 pounds per wolf per day. this figure is much less than the 10 to 14 pounds estimated consumption rate for wolves feeding on moose on isle royale (mech 1966a). however, much variation can be expected in an animal whose physiology must be adapted to a feast-or-famine existence. wolves can be maintained in captivity on 2.5 pounds of meat per day, and large active dogs (_canis familiaris_) require 3.7 pounds per day, so it is likely that the minimum daily requirement for wolves in the wild is about 4.0 pounds per day (mech 1970). this figure agrees well with the estimated consumption rate for our study area. footnotes: [19] _kolenosky, g. b. wolf movements, activities and predation impact on a wintering deer population in east-central ontario. (manuscript in preparation for publication.)_ relative population density censusing wolves in a 1.5-million-acre study area is a difficult task, and we have no direct information on which to base a population estimate. however, some deductions can be made about the relative population densities in our study area between the period 1948 to 1953 and the period of the present study, 1967 to 1969. r. a. rausch (1967a) hypothesized that the frequency of large packs is higher when population density is high, and presented evidence supporting this idea. on this assumption, a comparison of pack-size distributions between various periods can indicate relative population densities between periods. the advantage of this method is that it eliminates the usual type of year-to-year biases in wolf censuses such as might result from differences in precise census route, type of aircraft, skill of observers, and other conditions. only a difference that would cause a bias in the _size_ of the packs seen would be of importance. therefore, we tested the difference in size distributions of population units between the 1948-53 study period and the present period (table 1), using a kolmogorov-smirnov two-sample test (siegel 1956). the average "pack" size in the earlier years was 2.8, compared with 4.2 at present; thus pack sizes are significantly larger at present (95 percent level). this indicates that the population density from 1967 to 1969 may have been higher than from 1948 to 1953. this apparent change may be attributable to a reduction in snaring, trapping, and aerial hunting that took place between the two periods as a result of changes in state game regulations. a similar comparison between our observations from 1967 and those from 1968-69 (table 1) shows no significant difference between these years, so it appears that the density of wolves in our area has remained about the same over the period of three winters. this agrees with the results of several other studies summarized by mech (1970) in which wolf populations unaffected by man have been found to remain relatively stable from year to year. discussion and conclusions the movements, behavior, and ecology of the wolves in our study area during winter are variable, and are influenced considerably by snow conditions. this may explain the fact that in late february 1969 wolves 1051, 1053, and 1055 suddenly extended their travels and range (fig. f-34 and table 4). however, increased travel may have resulted from other factors. for one thing, the wolves apparently did not need to spend so much time hunting as before. because of the deep snow, the ability of wolves to capture deer increased, and the animals had a surplus of food. perhaps under such conditions wolves may use more of their energy for traveling than for hunting. [illustration: _figure 34.--net weekly (straight-line) distances traveled by three radiotagged wolves._] in this respect it is interesting that 1051 moved right out of his area and traveled into country that presumably was unknown to him. wolves 1053 and 1055 each ventured into an area that was almost devoid of deer and that even had few moose in it. without sufficient fat reserves in all these animals, it would seem disadvantageous for them to have made these travels. evidently wolves can obtain enough food in much smaller areas than these three animals used after february. both 1059's pack of five and 1057 lived in relatively small areas throughout the winter and seemed to survive well. before late february, 1051, 1053, and 1055 did also. thus some factor other than food must have influenced the movements of these three animals from late february through april. the fact that the increased movement began during the breeding season makes one suspect a relationship between the two. one possibility is that the factors increasing the hormonal flow associated with breeding in adults stimulate a hormone output in immature or subordinate individuals that causes an increase in their movements. an alternative is that the breeding behavior of resident packs involves the beginning of, or an increase in, aggression toward neighboring nonmembers. this might force the lone animals to shift about over large areas in avoidance of such aggression. whatever the cause of the changes in movements of these animals, the fact that the pack used a much smaller area than any of the lone wolves may be of central importance in trying to understand the organization of the wolf population. the following pieces of information are also pertinent to such an understanding: (1) the pack, which can be presumed to include a breeding pair (mech 1970), chased other wolves in its area; (2) the lone wolves, which apparently did not breed, were tolerant of, or indifferent to, other lone wolves in their areas; (3) the ranges of the lone wolves overlapped considerably (fig. 35); (4) the lone wolves seemed to avoid certain large areas that one might logically think would have been visited by them (fig. 35); and (5) packs of wolves were sometimes observed in these large areas (fig. 35). [illustration: _figure 35.--locations of all radiotagged wolves and unmarked packs observed during winter 1968-69, except dispersal of 1051 out of the study area. only selected lakes shown._] from the above information it can be hypothesized that the wolf population consists basically of groups of breeding packs defending territories of limited size, with lone wolves and other nonbreeding population units that are tolerant of each other shifting about in much larger nonexclusive areas among these territories. the information from isle royale (mech 1966a, jordan _et al._ 1967) is consistent with this idea, but the area of that island (210 square miles) is too small to allow untested extrapolations to be made about spacing in much larger wolf populations. data from algonquin park, ontario (pimlott _et al._ 1969) also strongly suggest this hypothesis. however, the packs studied there could not be identified with certainty, and little information was obtained about nonbreeding population units. to test the proposed hypothesis with certainty, a larger number of identifiable breeding and nonbreeding population units from the same general area must be followed during at least one winter. this will be the main objective of our next study. summary during the winters of 1966-67, 1967-68, and 1968-69, aerial observations of timber wolves (_canis lupus_) were made in the superior national forest in northeastern minnesota, where the primary prey is white-tailed deer (_odocoileus virginianus_). in 480 hours of flying during the study, 77 sightings involving 323 wolves were made. in addition, during 1968-69, five radiotagged wolves and their associates were tracked via receivers in aircraft for a total of 570 "wolf-days." visual observations were made during 65 percent of the times the wolves were located from december through april. the average size of each population unit (including single wolves, pairs, and packs) observed was 4.2, although packs of as many as 13 wolves were sighted. radiotagged wolves spent most of their daylight hours resting during winter, and when traveling, hunting or feeding during the day, tended to do so before 11:00 a.m. and after 3:00 p.m. considerable variation was discovered in the movement patterns of individual wolves, with straight line distances between consecutive daily locations ranging from 0.0 to 12.8 miles, and between weekly locations, 0.0 to 49.0 miles. a pack of five wolves used a range about 43 square miles in extent, whereas lone wolves covered areas many times this size. one animal in an apparent dispersal was tracked a straight line distance of 129 miles between extreme points. a reddish male wolf was the leader of the pack of five and led two observed chases after alien wolves in the pack's territory. this animal was also most active during scent marking by the pack. lone wolves were apparently indifferent to other wolves, and thus exclusive areas, or territories, were not observed among lone wolves. hunts involving a total of seven deer were observed and described, and two successful attacks on deer were interpreted from tracks in the snow. wolves generally consumed all the flesh and much of the hair and bones from kills, except during february and march 1969 when extreme snow conditions increased the vulnerability of deer to an unusual degree. at that time kills were found that were partly or totally uneaten. the kill rate by radiotagged wolves and associates during the winter of 1968-69, based on 468 wolf-days of data, varied from one deer per 6.3 days to one per 37.5 days per wolf, with the average being one deer per 10 to 13 days. the rate was much lower per wolf for members of the pack of five than for lone wolves, and much lower before february 1, 1969, than after. the average rate of kill during more usual winters was estimated to be about one deer per 18 days. this is a consumption rate of about 5.6 pounds of deer per wolf per day. indirect evidence based on comparisons of pack-size distributions for different periods indicates that the wolf density in the study area may have increased since 1953, but that it has remained the same from 1967 to 1969. on the basis of data presented in this paper, the following hypothesis about the organization of the wolf population studied is proposed: the wolf population consists basically of groups of breeding packs defending territories of limited size, with lone wolves and other nonbreeding population units, tolerant of each other, shifting about in much larger nonexclusive areas among these territories. acknowledgments this study was supported by macalester college, the u.s. bureau of sport fisheries and wildlife, the usda forest service, the minnesota department of conservation, and the new york zoological society. special thanks are due the following for their help and cooperation with this project: mr. j. o. wernham, former supervisor, mr. l. t. magnus, wildlife biologist, numerous district rangers, and other supporting personnel of the superior national forest, mr. j. t. morgan, north central forest experiment station; and mr. s. e. jorgensen and mr. c. e. faulkner, u.s. bureau of sport fisheries and wildlife. drs. c. t. cushwa, l. f. ohmann, catherine ream, and d. g. schneider aided in the field work. mr. w. w. cochran provided advice and suggestions on the radiotracking technique, dr. u. s. seal furnished the drugs and the advice on their use with wolves, and mr. r. himes contributed significantly in the wolf trapping. mr. l. ringham, ontario department of lands and forests, granted permission for research personnel to radiotrack wolves crossing into quetico park, canada. numerous students from macalester college also contributed to the field effort. thanks are also due pilots robert hodge, pat magie, ken bellos, don murray, jack burgess, and several others, who along with pilot-biologist john winship, expertly flew the aircraft used in the study. this report was reviewed by the following biologists: mr. g. b. kolenosky, dr. p. a. jordan, mr. m. h. stenlund, and dr. d. l. allen. mr. wallace c. dayton, miss elizabeth dayton, and the quetico-superior foundation, all of minneapolis, generously contributed funds to support mech during the preparation of the paper. literature cited burkholder, b. l. 1959. movements and behavior of a wolf pack in alaska. j. wildl. manage. 23: 1-11. erickson, a. b., gunvalson, v. e., stenlund, m. h., burcalow, d. w., and blankenship, l. h. 1961. the white-tailed deer of minnesota. minn. dep. conserv. tech. bull. 5, 64 p. fuller, w. a., and novakowski, n. s. 1955. wolf control operations, wood buffalo national park, 1951-1952. can. wildl. serv., wildl. manage. bull. ser. 1, no. 11, 23 p. goldman, e. a. 1944. the wolves of north america, part ii. classification of wolves, p. 389-636. washington, d. c.: the amer. wildl. inst. jordan, p. a., shelton, p. c., and allen, d. l. 1967. numbers, turnover, and social structure of the isle royale wolf population. amer. zool. 7: 233-252. kelly, m. w. 1954. observations afield on alaskan wolves. alaska sci. conf. proc. 5: 35 (and mimeo). kolenosky, g. b., and johnston, d. h. 1967. radio-tracking timber wolves in ontario. amer. zool. 7: 289-303. mech, l. d. 1966a. the wolves of isle royale. u. s. nat. park serv. fauna ser. 7. 210 p. mech, l. d. 1966b. hunting behavior of timber wolves in minnesota. j. mammal. 47: 347-348. mech, l. d. 1970. the wolf: the ecology and behavior of an endangered species. 389 p. new york: natural history press, doubleday. mech, l. d., kuechle, v. b., warner, d. w., and tester, j. r. 1965. a collar for attaching radio transmitters to rabbits, hares, and raccoons. j. wildl. manage. 29: 898-902. mohr, c. o. 1947. table of equivalent populations of north american small mammals. amer. midl. nat. 37: 223-249. murie, a. 1944. the wolves of mount mckinley, u. s. nat. park serv. fauna ser. 5, 238 p. nellis, c. h. 1968. some methods for capturing coyotes alive. j. wildl. manage. 32: 402-405. ohmann, l. f., and ream, r. r. 1969 vegetation studies in the bwca--a brief report on plant communities. naturalist 20(1): 20-29. olson, sigurd f. 1938a. organization and range of the pack. ecology 19: 168-170. olson, sigurd f. 1938b. a study in predatory relationship with particular reference to the wolf. sci. mon. 46: 323-336. pimlott, d. h., shannon, j. a., and kolenosky, g. b. 1969. the ecology of the timber wolf in algonquin provincial park. ont. dep. lands and forests res. rep. (wildlife) 87, 94 p. pulliainen, e. 1965. studies of the wolf (_canis lupus_ l.) in finland. ann. zool. fenn. 2: 215-259. rausch, r. a. 1967. some aspects of the population ecology of wolves, alaska. amer. zool. 7: 253-265. rutter, r. j., and pimlott, d. h. 1968. the world of the wolf. 202 p. philadelphia and n. y.: j. b. lippincott co. schenkel, r. 1947. expression studies of wolves. behaviour 1: 81-129. (translation from german by agnes klasson.) seal, u. s., and erickson, a. w. 1969. phencyclidine hydrochloride immobilization of the carnivora and other mammals. fed. (symp. lab. anim. anesthes.) proc. 28: 1410-1419. siegel, s. 1956. non-parametric statistics for the behavioral sciences. 312 p. new york: mcgraw-hill. stenlund, m. h. 1955. a field study of the timber wolf (_canis lupus_) on the superior national forest, minnesota. minn. dep. conserv. tech. bull. 4, 55 p. young, s. p. 1944. the wolves of north america, part i. 385 p. washington, d. c.: the amer. wildl. inst. an analysis of the age, sex, and condition of deer killed by wolves in northeastern minnesota l. david mech and l. d. frenzel, jr. the selective effect of predation on prey populations is of significance in studies of evolution and population dynamics. selective predation can be an important agent in the process of natural selection, and it influences the extent to which predators limit the numbers of their prey. one of the predators most commonly chosen for investigating the selective effect upon prey is the wolf (_canis lupus_). because animals preyed upon by wolves generally are large, their remains can be more easily located and examined. it already has been established that in most areas wolves kill primarily young, old, and other inferior members of such prey populations as dall sheep (_ovis dalli_), moose (_alces alces_), caribou (_rangifer tarandus_), bison (_bison bison_), and musk-oxen (_ovibos moschatus_); evidence for this generalization has been summarized by mech (1970). however, only recently has it been shown that this generalization may extend to predation on the smallest hoofed prey of the wolf in north america, the white-tailed deer (_odocoileus virginianus_). pimlott _et al._ (1969) demonstrated a difference between the age structure of 331 deer killed by wolves during winter in algonquin park, ontario, and 275 deer assumed to represent the actual population in the same area. whereas only 13 percent of the deer from the population at large were estimated to be more than 5 years old, 58 percent of the wolf-kills were in this age category. we employed a similar analysis for deer killed by wolves in northeastern minnesota, but used a more refined aging technique and included comparisons of the age and sex structures of various subsamples of wolf-kills. whereas the ontario research involved a prey population unlimited by man, our work was carried out on both a hunted population and on one relatively unhunted. further comparisons were made between deer killed during periods of normal snow conditions and those taken during unusually high snow accumulations. the incidence of various abnormalities in wolf-killed deer was also compared with that in hunter-killed animals. the study was carried out in the superior national forest in northern st. louis, lake, and cook counties of northeastern minnesota (fig. 1), in conjunction with other aspects of wolf research (see mech _et al._ p. 1). [illustration: _figure 1.--the study area showing locations where wolf-killed and hunter-killed deer were taken. line arbitrarily separates the hunted area from the wilderness area._] methods the investigation began in february 1966 and continued through march 1969; the basic objective was to examine as many wolf-killed deer as possible and compare their ages, sex, and condition with a large sample of deer from the population at large in the same area. wolf-kills were examined only during december through march when they could be found from the air. aircraft ranging in size from an aeronca champ to a cessna 206 were used to fly over frozen lakes at altitudes up to 2,000 feet to locate wolves (fig. 2), wolf tracks, or kills (fig. 3). we often discovered kills by tracking a wolf pack. [illustration: _figure 2.--wolves were located from the air, usually on frozen lakes. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] [illustration: _figure 3.--wolf-kills were easily spotted from aircraft. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] during the winter of 1968-69 this method of finding kills was supplemented by radiotracking five wolves and their associates via aircraft (see mech _et al._, p. 1). the latter technique resulted in increased discovery of inland kills. a deer carcass was judged killed by wolves if the death had been recent, if tracks or other sign indicated that wolves had fed upon it, and if no other possible cause of death was discovered. carcasses fed on by wolves but not clearly identifiable as kills were labeled "probable" wolf-kills. although the cause of death of the specimens in this latter category could not be determined with certainty, there was no reason to believe other agents were involved. in addition to the wolf-kills examined by project personnel, data and lower jaws from deer judged killed by wolves were contributed by other biologists, game wardens, forest rangers, and others whose competence was known. nevertheless, if certain identification of carcasses as wolf-kills was not possible, the data were relegated to the "probable" wolf-kill category. whenever possible, kills discovered from the air were examined on the ground (fig. 4). often only skeletal parts remained, but soft parts were also examined when available. femur marrow, heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, reproductive tracts, and omenta were usually inspected in the field for fat, parasites, and abnormalities, and the degree of subcutaneous back fat was also noted. hoofs and lower legs were checked, and those showing pathological conditions or abnormalities were collected and examined by the veterinary diagnostic laboratory of the university of minnesota. all lower jaws found were collected, aged, and examined for dental abnormalities and pathological conditions. [illustration: _figure 4.--as many wolf-killed deer as possible were examined from the ground. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] in november 1967 and 1968 hunter-check stations were operated on the study area (fig. 5), and deer bagged by hunters were field-checked for age (severinghaus 1949) and hoof abnormalities. as many lower jaws as possible were collected from field-checked deer and other deer killed in the area for age determination and examination for abnormal dentition. [illustration: _figure 5.--information about hunter-killed deer in the study area was obtained through hunter-check stations. (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel.)_] an assumption was made that the age structure and incidence of abnormalities in the sample of hunter-killed deer would be _reasonably representative_ of those in the population at large, an assumption also implicit in a similar comparison made by pimlott _et al._ (1969). in this respect, the following statements by maguire and severinghaus (1954, p. 109) about deer in new york state are pertinent: "it may be concluded that, considering the open season as a whole, wariness does not significantly distort the age composition of the [deer] kill in relation to that of the corresponding wild population, except possibly for buck seasons of only 1 or 2 days duration.... a reliable appraisal of the age composition of the kill by hunting may be obtained through the operation of roadside checking stations." however, in critically reviewing the present paper severinghaus stated that in states such as minnesota, with fewer hunters and higher hunter success rates, age compositions of deer from checking stations may not be the same as those of wild populations. reviewers peek and downing also made similar comments. nevertheless, for our comparison with wolf-killed deer it is not necessary that the hunter-kill age structure be exactly representative of the age structure of the actual deer population. all that is required is that there be reasonable agreement between the two. the hunting regulations in our study area allow a 9-day period of taking deer of any age or sex, and a single hunter may legally shoot as many deer as he and his party or associates have permits for. thus there is no reason for selective hunting, and we feel confident that the age structure of the hunter-kill in our study area does basically represent that of the deer herd at large. two laboratory techniques were used for determining the ages of deer from the lower jaws or mandibles--a tooth replacement and wear technique (severinghaus 1949) and an incisor-sectioning method (gilbert 1966). the tooth-wear technique requires only the molariform teeth but it is more subjective and inaccurate, particularly in older deer (ryel _et al._ 1961). incisor sectioning requires only incisors and appears to be much more accurate. however, because the incisors had been lost from many of the wolf-kills, and because the tooth-wear technique was used at checking stations, both methods were applied in the laboratory. mr. david w. kuehn (1970) sectioned and aged the incisors. fortunately there was a sufficiently large sample of mandibles with molariform teeth and incisors from both wolf-killed and hunter-killed deer to enable us to devise a table showing the actual ages (based on incisor-sectioning) of each of the jaws assigned to various tooth-wear classes. this table was then used to distribute the ages of specimens that contained only molariform teeth. for example, because it was found that 37 percent of the jaws aged 4-1/2 years old by tooth wear were actually 5-1/2 years old, we assigned 37 percent of the incisorless jaws aged 4-1/2 by tooth wear to the 5-1/2-year category. similarly, another conversion chart comparing field age determinations of hunter-killed deer with ages based on incisor sectioning of the same jaws was employed to distribute the ages of field-aged, hunter-killed deer for which jaws or incisors could not be collected. results we flew a total of 480 hours during this and related research, mainly during january through march 1967 and december 1968 through march 1969; about one-third of this time was devoted primarily to searching for kills. jaws were examined from 93 wolf-kills and 49 probable wolf-kills. [illustration: _figure 6.--all hunter-killed deer examined were checked for age. (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel.)_] hunter-check stations yielded information from 335 deer (fig. 6), and data on 98 additional hunter-killed deer were contributed by other hunters. incisors were collected from 82 of 214 hunter-killed deer checked that were older than yearlings; comparisons were then made between ages of the deer based on incisor sectioning and those based on field checks using the wear method. similarly, incisors were sectioned from 195 wolf-killed and hunter-killed deer older than yearlings that had been aged by the tooth-wear method in the laboratory, so that these two methods could be compared (kuehn 1970). (note: incisor-sectioning is unnecessary for fawns and yearlings because animals of these ages can be aged objectively by the progress of tooth replacement.) because age or sex distributions might differ in the various subsamples of deer examined during this study, these parameters were compared in subsamples of both wolf-kills and hunter-kills (table 1). no significant differences were found in the age or sex structures between the known wolf-kills and "probable" wolf-kills, so these subsamples were pooled and considered wolf-kills for all subsequent comparisons. three significant differences in sex ratio were found among the subsamples of wolf-kills: (1) wolves killed more female fawns than male fawns, but more male adults than female adults (table 2); (2) more of the adults killed in the hunted area were females, while in the wilderness more males were taken (table 3); and (3) after january 1969, when snow was unusually deep, 57 percent of the deer killed were females, compared with only 38 percent before this date. _table 1.--results of statistical comparisons between various samples of deer kills from northeastern minnesota_ %: _percent_ ------:-----------:--:------:------------:--------------------:----------- : : : : : results of : : : : : : comparisons: : sample: : :sample: :--------------------: direction size :sample :vs: size :sample : [20]age :[21]sex : of :description: : :description :structures: ratios : difference ------:-----------:--:------:------------:----------:---------:----------- wolf-kills:[22] wolf-kills:[22] 93 known 49 probable nonsig.[23] nonsig. - 42 jan.-mar. 83 dec. 1968 nonsig. nonsig. - 1967 mar. 1969 66 male 61 female nonsig. - - 50 wilderness 92 hunted area nonsig. nonsig. - area 41 adult, 64 adult, - sig., more wilderness hunted area 99% females in hunted area 96 lakes[24] 32 inland nonsig.[25] nonsig. - 66 before 77 after nonsig.[26] sig., more females feb. 1969 jan. 1969 95% after jan. 105 adults 22 fawns - sig., more female 95% fawns hunter-kills: hunter-kills: 110 field aged, 225 field aged, nonsig. nonsig. - 1967 1968 335 field aged 98 lab. aged nonsig. nonsig. -132 lab. aged, 79 lab. aged, nonsig. - - males females 89 field aged, 246 field aged, - sig., more male fawns adults 95% adults --------------------------------------------------------------------------433 hunter-kills 142 wolf-kills sig., - older deer 99% in wolf-kill 321 hunter-kills 118 wolf-kills sig., - older deer excluding excluding 99% in wolf-kill fawns fawns --------------------------------------------------------------------------footnotes: [20] kolmogorov-smirnov two-sample test (siegel 1956). [21] z test (downie and heath 1959). [22] because test showed no significant differences in age or sex structure between sample of known wolf-kills and probable wolf-kills, these were combined for all subsequent tests and the pooled sample considered "wolf-kills." [23] at 95 percent level or greater. (note: lack of a significant difference does _not_ prove that no difference exists. rather, it means only that the available evidence does not allow the positive conclusion that a difference does exist.) [24] wolf-kills found on lakes were compared with those located inland because of the possibility that kills on lakes may not be representative of kills in general. [25] sample too small for test, but no apparent difference. [26] no significant difference in entire age structures. however, when the percentage of yearlings is compared between the two groups, the difference is almost significant at the 95 percent level. _table 2.--sex ratios of hunter-killed deer and wolf-killed deer from northeastern minnesota_ -------:--------------------------:------------------------ age : hunter-killed deer : wolf-killed deer -------:--------------------------:------------------------ number percent percent number percent percent male female male female fawns 108 50 50 22 41 59 adults 315 68 32 105 54 46 -----------------------------------------------------------in the comparisons of the subsamples of hunter-kills, the only statistically significant difference found was that the adult subsample had a higher proportion of males than the fawn subsample. no significant difference was found in the age structures of the subsamples, so these were all pooled into a sample of 433 hunter-kills for comparison with the wolf-kills. for the same reason, the entire sample of 142 wolf-killed deer was used for a comparison with the hunter-killed sample. _table 3.--sex ratios of wolf-killed deer from wilderness areas and from hunted areas_ #: _number_ %: _percent_ -------:-------------------:------------------:---------------- age : wilderness area : hunted area : total -------:-------------------:------------------:---------------- # % % # % % # % % male female male female male female fawns 4 0 100 18 50 50 22 41 59 adults 41 71 29 64 44 56 105 56 44 ---------------------------------------------------------------wolf-killed deer in our sample, with an average age of 4.7 years, were significantly older (99 percent level) than hunter-killed deer, with an average age of 2.6 years. for example, deer 5 years of age and older made up 48 percent of the wolf-kills but only 10 percent of the hunter-kills (table 4). the oldest hunter-killed deer in our sample was 9-1/2 years old, but the oldest wolf-killed deer was 14-1/2 (fig. 7). [illustration: _figure 7.--comparison between the age structures of deer killed by wolves, deer killed by hunters, and a theoretical population from the same general area of northeastern minnesota_.] because of a possible bias against fawns in the method of collecting data from wolf-kills (to be discussed later), the age structure of the sample of wolf-kills excluding fawns was tested against that of the sample of hunter-kills excluding fawns. the result once again was a highly significant difference between these two age structures (table 1). as an additional test of the degree to which the age structure of the wolf-killed deer might differ from that of the actual population, we compared our wolf-kill age structure with the age structure of a hypothetical deer population. this was considered advisable just in case the hunter-kill data were poorly representative of the age structure of the actual deer herd. several hypothetical age structures were constructed and compared according to advice from downing.[27] in all cases, the comparisons produced the same basic results as the tests with the hunter-killed sample. an example of one comparison is given in figure 7. a further result obtained by aging the wolf-killed deer pertained to the young individuals killed. the deciduous first incisors of fawns and the deciduous premolars of yearlings are usually replaced with permanent teeth by december (severinghaus 1949). of 24 wolf-killed fawns examined, however, three (13 percent) taken during january, february, and march had not yet replaced their deciduous first incisors. of the 13 yearlings found during this same period, nine (70 percent) had failed to replace their deciduous premolars, and two (15 percent) had just replaced them (one deer killed in february and one killed in march). footnotes: [27] _r. l. downing. personal correspondence to l. d. mech, october 2, 1969_. _table 4.--age and sex distribution of deer killed by wolves and hunters in northeastern minnesota_ -------:-------------------------------:------------------------------ : wolf-killed deer : hunter-killed deer age :---------------------------:---:---------------------------:--(years): number of: : : number of: : :males females unknown total: % :males females unknown total: % -------:---------------------------:---:---------------------------:--fawns 9 13 2 24 17 54 54 4 112 26 1+ 5 7 1 13 9 63 26 1 90 21 2+ 3 8 5 16 11 42 19 2 63 15 3+ 2 4 2 8 6 47 16 1 64 15 4+ 6 3 4 13 9 32 22 1 55 13 5+ 12 9 - 21 15 15 12 1 28 6 6+ 9 2 1 12 8 3 - - 3 - 7+ 12 4 - 16 11 7 4 - 11 3 8+ 4 2 - 6 4 5 1 - 6 1 9+ 4 2 - 6 4 1 - - 1 - 10+ - 3 - 3 2 - - - - - 11+ - 1 - 1 } - - - - - 12+ - - - -} 4 - - - - - 13+ - 1 - 1 } - - - - - 14+ - 2 - 2 } - - - - -total 66 61 15 142 100 269 154 10 433 100 ----------------------------------------------------------------------mandibles from the 142 wolf-killed deer and 259 hunter-killed deer were examined closely for abnormal dentition (table 5, figs. 8-10) (mech _et al._ 1970) and pathological conditions (table 6), and the lower limbs of 75 wolf-kills and 126 hunter-kills were also checked for abnormalities and pathology (table 7, fig. 11). statistical comparison showed that the incidence of each condition was significantly higher in the sample from wolf-killed deer (table 8). jaw necrosis found in our specimens was similar to that described by murie (1944) for dall sheep and mech (1966a) for moose. generally animals with this condition are old, and ours were no exception. [illustration: _figure 8.--deciduous first premolar (arrow), usually not present in deer, was found in specimen m-31._] [illustration: _figure 9.--a permanent first premolar (arrow) was discovered in m-8._] [illustration: _figure 10.--an extra set of fourth premolars (arrows) occurred in specimens m-96._] [illustration: _figure 11.--the jaws and legs of kills were inspected closely for abnormalities. (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel.)_] _table 5.--abnormalities in the mandibular dentition of deer from the superior national forest, minnesota_ --------:---:-------:--------:-------:-------------------------------specimen: : :cause of:side of: number :sex:age[28]: death :jaw[29]: abnormality --------:---:-------:--------:-------:------------------------------- _years_ m-8 f 3+ wolves right p_1 present (fig. 9) left normal; no p_1 present outside or inside jaw m-31 f _17 mon._ wolves both deciduous p_1 present (fig. 8) and permanent p_1 present inside left ramus; right side not examined internally m-45 m _4+_ wolves right p_2 rotated 90° left p_2 absent m-52 m 4+ wolves right p_2 absent left normal m-96 f _2+_ hunters right 2 permanent p_4s present; both crooked in orientation (fig. 10) left p_2 diagonal; p_3 normal; p_4 below gumline, pointed posteriorly and wedged against m_1; appears to have pushed out original p_4 (fig. 10) m-117 m 5+ hunters right third column of m_3 reduced m-191 m 4+ wolves right third column of m_3 absent although rudimentary root present left third column of m_3 much reduced, peg-like, and almost separate m-225 - 4+ wolves right p_2 absent left p_2 situated diagonally m-234 f 5+ wolves right third column of m_3 reduced m-254 m 2+ hunters right p_2 slightly crooked in orientation left p_2 slanting posteriorly and crowding p_3 m-272 m 5+ hunters right third column of m_3 reduced, peg-like, and almost separate left third column of m_3 peg-like and separated from second column by 4 mm. m-296 f 5+ wolves right normal left extra permanent p_4 crowding original p_4; much like m-96 m-369 m 3+ hunters right permanent p_2 still not emerged but appears to be wedged against root of p_3 --------:---:-------:--------:-------:-------------------------------footnotes: [28] based on incisor sectioning method of gilbert (1966) except that _underlined_ figures are based on tooth replacement or wear (severinghaus 1949). [29] where only one side is listed, the other was not available. _table 6.--pathological conditions in the lower jaws of deer killed by wolves or hunters[30]_ --------:---:------:--------:-----------:----------------------------specimen: : :cause of:approximate: number :sex: age : death : date of : condition : : : : death : --------:---:------:--------:-----------:---------------------------- _years_ m-70 m 6-1/2 wolves feb. 1968 lump in left side of mandible near m_1 and m_2 m-192 m 7-1/2 wolves jan. 1969 large lump in left diastema apparently from healed fracture m-206 m 8-1/2 wolves jan. 1969 light necrosis around base of teeth m-218 m 3-1/2 wolves feb. 1969 large lump in left diastema apparently from healed fracture m-228 f 11-1/2 wolves mar. 1969 heavy necrosis around molars and extending into bone; half of each m_3 destroyed, both roots and crown m-236 f 14-1/2 wolves feb. 1969 light necrosis around base of teeth m-402 f 10-1/2 hunters nov. 1968 heavy necrosis and lumps on both sides of mandible --------:---:------:--------:-----------:----------------------------footnotes: [30] not including dental abnormalities, which are described in table 5. the following organs were excised from wolf-killed deer and examined grossly in the field for parasites and abnormalities (fig. 12): lungs (six animals, normal); heart (seven animals, normal); liver (four animals, one small unidentified tapeworm cyst). twin fetuses were found in each of two adult does examined. twelve deer were checked for body fat in one or all of the following areas: back (subcutaneous), kidneys, heart, omenta. of these animals, seven had large amounts of fat, but five were almost depleted of fat from these stores. these five were all killed in february or march 1969; three were fawns, and two were yearlings that had not yet shed their deciduous premolars. of 69 animals examined for femur marrow condition, two had fat-depleted marrow. one was a fawn killed in march 1969 that had not shed its deciduous first incisors, and the other was a 5-1/2-year-old buck killed in february 1966. a fawn and a yearling that had died in february 1969 from unknown causes also had fat-depleted, marrow. these animals might have been killed by wolves, for wolves had fed on them. however, they could have died from malnutrition and been eaten as carrion. _table 7.--pathological conditions in the lower limbs of deer killed by wolves or hunters_ --------:---:-----:------:------------------------------------------- : : :cause : specimen:sex: age : of : condition number : : :death : --------:---:-----:------:------------------------------------------- _years_ m-28 m 5-1/2 wolves right hind foot: "old healed ankylosis of the pastern joint ... a spontaneously healed bacterial arthritis with the destroyed joint cavity filled in by solid bone. this deer probably had defective gait"[31] (fig. 14). m-29 f 5-1/2 wolves front foot: "a 3×4×5 cm. fibrous mass in the subcutis about the digital flexor tendon on the volar surface of the metacarpus. the surface was denuded, ulcerated, and superficially infected by surface bacteria.... probably did detract from the animal's speed of flight"[31] (fig. 15). m-37 f 7-1/2 wolves hind foot: "probable that the lesion was at one time an active bacterial bone marrow infection that had eventually fistulated to the skin.... regional tendons and their sheaths were also present among this inflammation and scarring, and it would be fair to assume that the animal's agility was impaired to some extent."[31] m-115 m 4-1/2 hunter right front hoof: broken at tip. m-196 f 4-1/2 wolves left front foot: "two severe transverse lacerations on the volar surface. each was approximately 4 cm. in length. one was located at the margin of the heel, and the other was located several cm. proximad. the more proximal wound had severed the flexon tendons, and the consequent uselessness of the limb was suggested by the splayed toes, the unmarred hoof wall and unworn soles"[32] (fig. 16). m-227 m 9-1/2 wolves left hind leg: "a diffuse swelling of the distal metatarsal bone, the surface of which was studded with small osteophytic spicules. the major flexor and extensor tendons were forced to assume a convex course over the summits of the dorsal and plantar surfaces of the defect, but the tendon sheaths were clean and the normal wear on soles of the involved toes suggested that functional deficit and pain were probably minimal ... quite certainly a callus from previous fracture"[32] (fig. 17). --------:---:-----:------:-------------------------------------------1 footnotes: [31] d. m. barnes. personal correspondence to l. d. mech, april 11, 1967. [32] d. m. barnes. undated laboratory report transmitted to l. d. mech in 1969. discussion and conclusions it has been established that wolves hunting dall sheep (murie 1944), caribou (crisler 1956), moose (mech 1966a), and other species usually have a low percentage of success. in the case of a pack of 15 wolves hunting moose on isle royale during winter, only 4.6 percent of all the moose detected by the pack were killed; considering only the moose that the wolves caught up to or held at bay, the kill rate was 7.6 percent (mech 1966a). what little evidence there is about wolves hunting deer indicates that the success rate is also low with this prey species, at least in winter. the senior author has now observed a total of 14 deer being chased by wolves in northeastern minnesota, mostly by packs of five, seven or eight wolves (mech 1966b, and see mech _et al._, p. 1). in only one case (6.7 percent) did the wolves (a pair) succeed in catching their prey. low hunting success rates imply that the circumstances influencing hunts are seldom favorable enough, or the prey animals encountered are seldom vulnerable enough for the wolves to succeed. when the evidence cited earlier that most wolf-killed animals are inferior members of their populations is considered, the most cogent explanation for the low hunting success of wolves is that relatively few prey animals are vulnerable. _table 8.--incidence of various abnormalities and pathological conditions in wolf-killed deer compared with that in hunter-killed deer_ #: _number_ %: _percent_ ---------------------:----------------:----------------:------------ : wolf-kills : hunter-kills : :------:---------:------:---------: level of condition : deer : deer : deer : deer : significance : in : with : in : with : :sample:condition:sample:condition: ---------------------:------:---------:------:---------:------------ # # % # # % % dental abnormalities 142 8 5.6 259 5 1.9 [34]90 jaw necrosis, lumps, 142 6 4.2 259 1 0.4 [34]95 or fractures[33] pathology of lower 75 5 6.7 126 1 0.8 95 limbs ---------------------:------:---------:------:---------:------------footnotes: [33] two mandibles from wolf-killed deer had large lumps from healed fractures in the region of the diastemas. [34] if all dental and jaw abnormalities are pooled, the difference between the incidence in the wolf-kill sample (9.8 percent) and that in the hunter-kill (2.3 percent) is significant at the 99 percent level. [illustration: _figure 12.--when internal organs were present in kills, they were examined in the field. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] age structure our data strongly indicate that in northeastern minnesota wolves prey much more heavily on the older members of the deer population, at least during winter (fig. 7). substantial vulnerability to wolves seems to begin at about the age of 5 years (fig. 13), because the percentage of wolf-killed deer in each year class increases from 9 percent for 4-1/2-year-old animals to 15 percent for 5-1/2-year-olds (table 4). indeed, 48 percent of the wolf-kills were aged 5-1/2 and over, which compares favorably with the ontario figure of 58 percent for these age classes (pimlott _et al._ 1969). [illustration: _figure 13.--relative rates of predation on deer of various ages, based on comparisons of the ages of wolf-killed deer with those of a theoretical population (dashed line) and those of the hunter-killed population. see figure 7._] these figures assume added significance when compared with a sample of deer killed by hunters in the same general area (fig. 1). only 10 percent of the hunter-killed deer were 5-1/2 years old or older, and the percent killed in each year class dropped off suddenly from 13 percent aged 4-1/2 to 6 percent aged 5-1/2. if the age structure of the hunter-kill sample is reasonably representative of the age structure of the population at large, the wolf-kill data show that wolf predation in our study area during winter has a definite selective effect on the deer population. there is no direct way of knowing that the age structure of the hunter-killed deer represents the age structure of the deer population at large. however, sampling hunter-kills is the most practical means available for gaining an index to the age structure of the existing herd. further, there are three indirect pieces of evidence indicating that the hunter-kill sample represents the actual age structure of the population, just as maguire and severinghaus (1954) found in new york. first, our sample has the basic theoretical form expected of a stable deer herd; i.e., the youngest year class contained the most members, and each older cohort included fewer (fig. 7). second, the age structure of our sample has the same form as most other deer age structures from widely diverse areas, (ontario, pimlott _et al._ 1969; southern minnesota, erickson _et al._ 1961; massachusetts, shaw 1951). third, there is no reason to believe that in our area rifle hunting is especially selective for any particular age classes. in talking with large numbers of hunters, we have learned that most shoot at any and all deer they happen to see. even if the age structure of the hunter-kill sample did not approximate that of the actual herd, the comparison of the wolf-kill with the theoretical population dictates the same conclusion: the rate of kill of older deer by wolves was several times greater than that of younger deer, excluding fawns (fig. 13). in any case, if the actual deer population in our study area had an age structure similar to that of our sample of wolf-kills (which would be the only age structure that would contradict our conclusion), its numbers would be declining by orders of magnitude each year, and there would now be only a remnant population. such obviously is not the case. the only other question that might arise from a comparison of the age structure of our wolf-killed deer with that of the hunter-killed deer concerns the area from which each sample was taken. fifty of our wolf-kills came from a region almost inaccessible to hunters (fig. 1). however, the other 92 came from the same general area as the hunter-kills. nevertheless, there was no statistically significant difference in age structure between the wolf-kills from the wilderness versus those from the hunted area (table 1). this fact also suggests that the human hunting in the area is relatively light and has little effect on the age structure of the deer population in the area. wolves may also be taking a disproportionately high number of fawns, although our data do not show this. nevertheless, there may be a bias against fawns in our method. it is not unusual to discover the remains of a wolf-killed deer so completely eaten that there is no indication left of the animal's age. because fawns often are only about half the size of adult deer, and their skeletons have not yet completely ossified, the chances are better that fawns will be more completely eaten. pimlott _et al._ (1969) also recognized this possible bias, although their data did indicate that wolves were killing a higher percentage of fawns than occurred in the population. our study does support the other conclusion of pimlott _et al._ (1969), based on a study of 331 kills, that wolf predation on deer during winter shows a definite selection for older animals. it does not agree with the tentative conclusion of stenlund (1955) that wolves in the superior national forest do not prey disproportionately on old deer. however, stenlund's conclusion was based on 36 kills and on the assumption that only deer at least 7 years old were "old." deer 5 years old and older composed 33 percent of stenlund's sample, a figure considerably higher than the 10 percent in these age classes in our hunter-kill sample (table 4). thus stenlund's data do not contradict our conclusion. the age of 5 years seems to be the beginning of the period of vulnerability for adult deer. although 5 years might not seem especially old, there are two aspects of significance concerning deer of this age and older. first, they are in the second half of the life span for most members of the species, and their alertness and ability to bolt quickly away might be expected to decline. it is of interest in this regard that klein and olson (1960, p. 87) believed 5 years of age to be "the upper limit of physiological efficiency" of black-tailed deer (_odocoileus hemionus_) in alaska. second, up to the age of at least 4-1/2 years, and perhaps beyond, the apparent weight-load-on-track of deer increases with age (kelsall 1969). thus older deer would sink farther into the snow than younger ones, and their escape might be slowed and hindered more. for further discussion of the effect of snow on the vulnerability of deer, see mech _et al._ (p. 51). sex ratio statistical tests comparing a number of subsamples of both wolf-killed deer and hunter-killed deer showed a series of significantly different sex ratios (tables 1-3). the ratio of males to females in the fawn cohort of the hunter-kill, which is probably the most representative of the actual fawn sex ratio, was even (table 2). with wolf-kills, however, a significantly higher percentage of females was taken in the fawn subsample (59 percent) than in the adult subsample (46 percent). these results compare favorably with those of stenlund (1955), who found that from 1948 to 1953 in the same area as the present study 68 percent of 19 sexable fawn wolf-kills were females and 44 percent of 63 sexable adult wolf-kills were females. if the sex ratio of fawns began even, and more females than males were killed by wolves, then a higher proportion of males would be left in the adult population, unless some other mortality factor kills more male fawns. thus it is not surprising that in the wilderness area, where little or no hunting is done, the sex ratio of wolf-kills in the adult cohort is significantly heavy toward males (71 percent: 29 percent). this was also true of the wolf-kills in algonquin provincial park, where males made up 57 percent of the total sexable wolf-kill (pimlott _et al._ 1969). the latter figure may even have been higher if calculated for adults alone, for a preponderance of female fawns in the algonquin park data (such as occurred in our and stenlund's samples) would tend to obscure the preponderance of males in the adult sample. the adult subsample of hunter-kills also contained a higher percentage of males (66 percent : 34 percent). although this might also reflect the influence of wolf predation on female fawns, it probably is more a result of the greater movement of bucks during the hunting season, which overlaps with the rutting season. even the sex ratio of adult deer killed in wolf-free areas shows a preponderance of males (erickson _et al._ 1961). however, it appears that the higher harvest of bucks by human hunters does markedly affect the sex ratio of the deer population in the hunted area, for the wolf-kill of adults in that area contained a significantly higher percentage of does (56 percent) than did the wolf-kill of adults in the wilderness area (29 percent). evidently the hunter harvest is not heavy enough to affect the age structure of the deer population to any marked degree, for no significant difference in age structure was found between the wolf-kill in the hunted area and that in the wilderness area (table 1). this does not conflict with the conclusion that hunting affects the sex ratio of the deer herd, because it would take much less to influence a population characteristic having two classes (sex) than one having 14 (age). one additional difference in the sex ratio was found between two other subsamples of the wolf-kill--that is, the wolf-kill before and after an unusually high snow accumulation, which reached its peak about february 1, 1969 (table 1). of a total of 77 animals killed before this snow condition occurred (including those from previous years), 38 percent were females. of 44 animals killed after the heavy accumulation, 57 percent were females. one possible explanation for this is that females may normally be less vulnerable to wolf predation, for kelsall (1969) has shown that they probably have a lighter weight-load-on-track than males. thus when snow conditions changed greatly, making deer generally much more vulnerable to wolves (see mech _et al._, p. 35), a preponderance of does suddenly might have become available. there is some evidence that does may be generally less vulnerable under most conditions, for all seven of our wolf-killed deer over 10 years old were females, and the oldest was over 14. condition of wolf-killed deer because the data show that wolves in our study area tend to kill a disproportionate number of older deer, it is not surprising to discover that wolves also tend to capture a disproportionate number of individuals with abnormalities and pathological conditions (table 8). the explanation for such selection is obvious in regard to the abnormalities of the lower limbs (figs. 14-17): deer with injured or abnormal limbs simply cannot run as fast or as agilely as normal animals (table 7). our observations show that deer usually depend on their alertness and speed to escape approaching wolves (mech 1966b, mech _et al._, p. 1). any trait or condition that tended to interfere with either alertness or speed would decrease an individual's chance of escape. it is more difficult to explain how dental abnormalities or pathological conditions of the mandible (figs. 8-10) would predispose an individual to wolf predation. however, in the case of dental abnormalities the genetic or environmental conditions that caused the abnormality might also have caused some other trait that increased the animal's vulnerability. or the abnormal condition itself may have caused a further, more critical, disruption of the animal's physiology or behavior, which in turn predisposed it to wolf predation. the finding of several wolf-kills with poor fat stores could indicate that primary or secondary malnutrition was a factor in the animals' deaths. however, it would take a statistical comparison between the fat stores of the deer at large and those of the wolf-kills to establish this. the discovery that 13 percent of the fawns and 84 percent of the yearlings killed during january, february, and march had not yet shed their deciduous incisors and premolars, respectively, also fits well with the rest of our information. evidently some unusual factor had caused the delay in tooth development and replacement. one possibility is that the animals were born in august or september, much later than normal. although most deer in minnesota are born in may and june, there are records of births in july and august. in addition, a fetus 181 to 200 days old was found in a doe killed on september 26 (erickson _et al._ 1961). an alternate explanation for the delay in tooth replacement is that the animals were suffering from malnutrition or nutrient deficiency. severinghaus[35] has evidence that yearling bucks that have not replaced their deciduous premolars during november, and thus are aged at 17 months (severinghaus 1949), generally have shorter, narrower antlers and fewer points than 18-and 19-month-old individuals. degree of antler development in turn is considered related to nutritional state (latham 1950). thus it is reasonable to conclude that animals behind in tooth development and replacement, whether this is caused by age or diet, are physiologically inferior. most of the abnormal conditions discussed above pertain to the skeletal parts of wolf-kills. if the soft parts of a large number of kills could be examined thoroughly, one might discover a much higher incidence of diseases and other pathological conditions. in conclusion, our data on both age and condition of wolf-killed deer show that at least during winter, wolves in our study area usually do not kill just any deer they discover, although they do try to. evidently, most deer can usually escape wolf predation. the most frequent exceptions are those 5-1/2 years old and older, those born late, those suffering from poor nutrition, those with abnormalities or pathological conditions, and possibly fawns. the above conclusions parallel those of murie (1944), crisler (1956), mech (1966a), and pimlott _et al._ (1969) for wolves preying on dall sheep, caribou, moose, and deer respectively, and further substantiate the claim by mech (1970) that they can be extended to wolves preying on most, if not all, species of large mammals under most conditions. it is also apparent from the data presented above that deer over 5 years of age and those with abnormalities of the jaw or lower limbs represent such a small percentage of the total population that they are seldom taken by human hunters. in this respect, competition between timber wolves and human hunters appears to be minimal in the study area. footnotes: [35] _c. w. severinghaus. unpublished data_. [illustration: _figure 14.--arthritis in right hind foot of specimen m-28. (photo courtesy of university of minnesota veterinary diagnostic laboratory.)_] [illustration: _figure 15.--infection and fibrous mass in a front foot of specimen m-29. (photo courtesy of university of minnesota veterinary diagnostic laboratory.)_] [illustration: _figure 16.--injury to left front foot of specimen m-196. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech)._] [illustration: _figure 17.--healed fracture of left hind leg of specimen m-227. (photo courtesy of university of minnesota veterinary diagnostic laboratory.)_] summary white-tailed deer (_odocoileus virginianus_) killed by wolves (_canis lupus_) during winter in a relatively unhunted wilderness area and in an immediately adjacent hunted area of minnesota were compared with deer killed by hunters in the same general area, and with a hypothetical population. deer killed by wolves were significantly older. statistical comparisons also showed the following: (1) hunters generally killed an even sex ratio of fawns, and a disproportionate number of adult bucks, (2) wolves took a higher percentage of female fawns than female adults, a disproportionate number of bucks in the wilderness area, and a higher percentage of does in the hunted area. the latter fact evidently reflects the higher hunter success on males in the hunted area. significantly higher incidences of abnormalities and pathological conditions of both mandibles and lower limbs were found in wolf-killed deer than in hunter-killed deer, and these conditions are described. it is concluded that wolf predation on white-tailed deer in the study area during winter generally is selective in that it tends to remove members of the prey population that are old, debilitated, or abnormal. apparently these classes of deer represent such a small percentage of the population that they are seldom taken by human hunters. acknowledgments this study was supported by macalester college, the new york zoological society, the minnesota department of conservation, the usda forest service, and the u.s. bureau of sport fisheries and wildlife. pilots robert hodge, pat magie, john winship, jack burgess, don murray, and walt neumann aided substantially in obtaining jaws from wolf-killed deer. students from the macalester college biology department and personnel of the usda forest service and the minnesota department of conservation helped secure mandibles from both wolf-killed and hunter-killed deer. the interest of mr. john e. peninger and of many deer hunters in contributing the jaws is also greatly acknowledged. mr. david w. kuehn sectioned the incisors of the deer jaws and determined their ages. dr. donald m. barnes of the university of minnesota veterinary diagnostic laboratory examined the abnormal lower limbs, described their pathology, and provided photos of specimens used herein. mr. wallace c. dayton and miss elizabeth dayton and the quetico-superior foundation, all of minneapolis, financed mech during the preparation of this paper. the following individuals read the manuscript and offered many helpful suggestions: mr. r. l. downing, mr. c. w. severinghaus, mr. j. m. peek, dr. c. t. cushwa, mr. m. h. stenlund, and dr. r. r. ream. literature cited crisler, lois. 1956. observations of wolves hunting caribou. j. mammal. 37: 337-346. downie, n. m., and heath, r. w. 1959. basic statistical methods. 289 p. new york: harper and bros. erickson, a. b., gunvalson, v. e., stenlund, m. h., burcalow, d. w., and blankenship, l. h. 1961. the white-tailed deer of minnesota. minn. dep. conserv. tech. bull. 5, 64 p. gilbert, f. f. 1966. aging white-tailed deer by annuli in the cementum of the first incisor. j. wildl. manage. 30: 200-202. kelsall, j. p. 1969. structural adaptations of moose and deer for snow. j. mammal. 50: 302-310. klein, d. r., and olson, s. t. 1960. natural mortality patterns of deer in southeast alaska. j. wildl. manage. 24: 80-88. kuehn, d. w. 1970. an evaluation of the wear method as a criterion for aging white-tailed deer. m.s. thesis., univ. minn. latham, r. m. 1950. pennsylvania's deer problem. penn. game news, spec. issue 1. (cited from: allen, d. l. 1962. our wildlife legacy.) maguire, h. f., and severinghaus, c. w. 1954. wariness as an influence on age composition of white-tailed deer killed by hunters. n. y. fish and game j. 1: 98-109. mech, l. d. 1966a. the wolves of isle royale. u.s. nat. park serv. fauna ser. 7, 210 p. mech, l. d. 1966b. hunting behavior of timber wolves in minnesota. j. mammal. 47: 347-348. mech, l. d. 1970. the wolf: the ecology and behavior of an endangered species. 389 p. new york: natural history press, doubleday. mech, l. d., frenzel, l. d., jr., karns, p. d., and kuehn, d. w. 1970. mandibular dental anomalies in white-tailed deer from minnesota. j. mammal. 51: 804-806. murie, a. 1944. the wolves of mount mckinley. u.s. nat. park serv. fauna ser. 5, 238 p. pimlott, d. h., shannon, j. a., and kolenosky, g. b. 1969. the ecology of the timber wolf in algonquin provincial park. ont. dep. lands and forests res. rep. (wildl.) 87, 92 p. ryel, l. a., fay, l. d., and van etten, r. c. 1961. validity of age determination in michigan deer. mich. acad. sci., art, and letters 46: 289-316. severinghaus, c. w. 1949. tooth development and wear as criteria of age in white-tailed deer. j. wildl. manage. 13: 195-216. severinghaus, c. w. 1955. p. r. rep. w-28-r-9: job 1a, april 13, 1955. shaw, s. p. 1951. the effect of insufficient harvests on an island deer herd. n.e. wildl. conf. (mimeo). siegel, s. 1956. non-parametric statistics for the behavioral sciences. 312 p. new york: mcgraw-hill. stenlund, m. h. 1955. a field study of the timber wolf (_canis lupus_) on the superior national forest, minnesota. minn. dep. conserv. tech. bull. 4, 55 p. the effect of snow conditions on the vulnerability of white-tailed deer to wolf predation l. david mech, l. d. frenzel, jr., and p. d. karns wolves (_canis lupus_) and deer (_odocoileus virginianus_) having evolved together, no doubt have become adapted to contending with each other's physical abilities. thus it is not surprising to learn that deer which succumb to wolf predation are generally weaker, older, or abnormal compared with the total deer population (pimlott _et al._ 1969, also see mech and frenzel, p. 35). however, the structural and behavioral adaptations of both species must have evolved under environmental conditions that are average or usual; otherwise, an adjustment of wolf to deer populations, and vice versa, could not have been maintained over long periods. this implies that extreme or unusual conditions might sometimes occur, to which either the wolf or the deer is poorly adapted. one of the most important environmental factors that can influence the interactions of wolves and deer is snow. the total fall, depth on the ground, and the density are all aspects of snow that may vary considerably and affect the ability of wolves to capture deer. recent studies of wolves and deer in northeastern minnesota (see mech _et al._, p. 1, also mech and frenzel, p. 35) afforded us opportunities to investigate the relationships between snow and the interactions of wolves and deer. methods two principal methods of study were used in this investigation. the first involved recording the snow depth and support quality ("penetrability") in feet and tenths of feet (verme 1968). snow measurements were taken during the winters of 1966-67, 1967-68, and 1968-69, in which large differences in snow conditions existed. ten such measurements were made weekly near isabella, minnesota, in an open aspen (_populus tremuloides_) stand away from influences that might have caused drifting or other unusual snow conditions; the measurements were averaged. penetrability was determined with verme's snow-compaction gauge--a 3-foot piece of 1-1/8-inch (outside diameter) copper tube filled with lead to total 3 pounds, which gives a weight per area of 211 gm./cm.^2. to obtain a measurement, the pipe is held vertically with its lower end just flush with the snow, and then is released. the depth to which it sinks is considered the penetrability of the snowpack by a walking deer. although the snow conditions measured at isabella are not representative of the entire study area, year-to-year comparison in the isabella area should also apply generally throughout the region. the second technique used in this study was observing the movements of wolves and deer. this was usually done from low-flying aircraft, and was facilitated by the use of radiotracking, as described by mech _et al._ (p. 1). close inspection of wolf-killed deer was made from the ground (mech and frenzel, p. 35). results and observations snow measurements for each winter are shown in figures 1 through 3. the winter of 1968-69 was the most extreme of the three in terms of accumulated snow, and was generally regarded as having one of the heaviest snowfalls and accumulations on record for the study area. snow depth on the level near isabella reached 3.9 feet at one time, and from january 3 to april 4 it exceeded 2.4 feet. the highest snow level reached during 1966-67 was 2.4 feet, and the highest level reached during 1967-68 was 1.4 feet. in the vicinity of ely, some 30 miles from isabella, the 1968-69 peak accumulation was 39 inches, the highest accumulation since 1948-49 when records were first kept.[36] thus we consider the winters of 1966-67 and 1967-68 to be within the normal range for the study area, and the 1968-69 winter as being most unusual (fig. 4). [illustration: _figure 1.--snow depth and penetrability by deer and wolves near isabella, minnesota, 1966-67._] [illustration: _figure 2.--snow depth and penetrability by deer and wolves near isabella, minnesota, 1967-68._] [illustration: _figure 3.--snow depth and penetrability by deer and wolves near isabella, minnesota, 1968-69._] the snow penetrability in 1966-67 remained high throughout january, february, and march. during the following winter, penetrability fluctuated more, but even at its greatest, it was relatively unimportant to deer because the total snow depth was so low. during 1968-69, however, penetrability was a very important aspect of snow condition. it was so high during late january and early february, when snow accumulation was also at its peak, that a walking deer would be expected to sink in 2.5 to 3.5 feet. snow penetrability then decreased through february and march to a point where a walking deer would sink in approximately 0.6 foot on march 21. however, because snow accumulation remained so high through february and march, the lower penetrability during late february and march still afforded no relief to running deer, because they must exert forces several times as great as when walking. on the contrary, the low penetrability (which is an indirect measure of density) could be expected to hinder a running deer in deep snow, for it would cause much more resistance. [illustration: _figure 4.--during the winter of 1968-69, the snow was unusually deep in the study area. (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel.)_] deer movements, like snow conditions, varied greatly during the three winters of the study. during the first two winters, deer were generally found singly and in groups of two to six, often around the shores of lakes but also scattered about inland. in late january and february 1967, running deer were observed sinking deeply into snow, but their movements still did not seem to be hindered, no doubt because of the high penetrability (low density) of the snow that year (fig. 1). however, during late january, february, and march of 1969 the deer were much more concentrated, mostly in conifer swamps, along southwest-facing slopes, or on lakes. although groups of two or three animals could be found in scattered inland "pockets" throughout the winter, groups of five or six were not uncommon on lakes during january. the tendency to concentrate continued to increase, and on february 6, as many as 11 deer were observed on one lake; by march 13, group size had increased to as high as 22 deer in the same area. throughout february and march, heavy concentrations of deer tracks covered most wilderness lakes, further evidencing much greater use of shorelines than had occurred in the two previous winters (fig. 5). no doubt deer tended to concentrate on lakes because travel inland became so difficult. on january 28, two deer were seen plowing through snow up to their necks. although the snow began settling in february, and the penetrability decreased, by late february running deer still plunged chest-deep and had to hesitate at every bound. these conditions persisted until about march 26, by which time a surface crust strong enough to hold a running deer had formed. [illustration: _figure 5.--under unusually deep snow conditions, deer used lake shores heavily. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] in considering wolf mobility in snow, two types of movement must be recognized: the trot used during general travel, and the bounding used while chasing prey. the trot is an easy gait of about 5 m.p.h. on firm footing (mech 1970), and can be continued for hours at a time. during periods of deep snow and high penetrability, most wolf travel is on frozen waterways, roads, snowmobile trails, and animal trails, including the wolves' own pathways, which become well packed with frequent use (fig. 6, 7a, b). such travel was observed during each of the three winters of this study. [illustration: _figure 6.--wolves travel single file in deep snow. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] [illustration: _figure 7.--(a) a single wolf must break his own trail through the snow. (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel.) (b) regular use by a pack keeps trails open. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] the second type of wolf movement affected by snow is the leaping and bounding associated with chasing prey. the shallower angle of the wolf's bound (fig. 8) (compared with that of the deer) often causes the wolf to flounder in snow that presents little hinderance to deer (mech 1970). such was the case in january and february 1967 in our study area. during 1967-68 no observations of wolves chasing deer were made by the authors, but reports by other field workers indicated that running conditions were similar to those of 1967. [illustration: _figure 8.--wolves run at a shallow angle, thus hindering them in deep snow. (photo courtesy of d. h. pimlott.)_] during the winter of 1968-69, wolves also bogged down a great deal in snow when chasing deer. however, after january 1969 the snow was so deep that deer were floundering even more than wolves in many cases. the fact that wolves could run in the trail broken by deer probably also gave the wolves an advantage under the conditions that severely restricted deer movements. the above observations of snow conditions, deer movements, and wolf movements during the three winters of the study are in accord with observations made on the differences in the ability of the wolves to capture deer during the same period. two indices support the conclusion that wolves had a much easier time catching deer during february and march 1969 than earlier in the winter and in the two previous winters: (1) the degree of utilization of wolf-killed deer, and (2) the kill rate of radiotagged wolves. during the winters of 1966-67 and 1967-68, and in december and early january 1968-69, most wolf-killed deer found had been thoroughly eaten, and the bones--if present at all--were well chewed and scattered at each kill (fig. 9). all skin and flesh from the skull were eaten, and the mandible was usually separated from the skull. during late february and early march 1967, few fresh kills were even found, and wolves were returning several times to old kills that had been cleaned up many days before. [illustration: _figure 9.--usually the remains of a wolf kill are well chewed and scattered before the wolves abandon them. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] [illustration: _figure 10.--during a period of especially deep snow, wolves abandoned many kills before pulling apart the skeletons. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] however, in late january 1969 a substantial change began taking place. the skeletons of most kills found were almost intact, the flesh having been eaten from around the bones (fig. 10). appreciably more skin was usually left on the carcass, especially on the side lying on the snow, and the neck and head were generally intact. this was true even of fawns, which in the past often were almost completely consumed. in several cases, only about half of the flesh had been eaten from the carcasses. on february 2, 1969, four deer recently killed by wolves were found along a 1-1/2-mile stretch of birch lake and nearby polaris lake (minnesota-ontario border). one large doe was completely uneaten and remained so for at least 24 hours after discovery from the air. further, one fawn had only a few pounds of flesh eaten, a yearling doe was half eaten, and another fawn was about 75 percent eaten. hazardous landing conditions during this period severely limited the number of carcasses that could be examined from the ground, but on february 6 a yearling doe was discovered that had only about 5 to 10 pounds of flesh eaten, and on february 8 an adult doe was found that was completely intact except for wounds. in past winters some kills had been located that had been only partly eaten, but in each case the carcasses were soon revisited and cleaned up (mech 1970). this was often not the case in 1969. for the rest of the winter most of the deer killed by wolves in our study area were not as completely consumed as in previous winters. pimlott _et al._ (1969) found a similar relationship between the severity of the winter and the degree to which wolf-killed deer were utilized. correlated with the above information was the kill history of our radiotagged wolves (mech _et al._, p. 1). from december 1968 through january 1969 no. 1051 had killed three or possibly four deer, and generally had spent 6 or 7 days feeding on each. however, throughout most of february this animal visited a new deer carcass (which presumably he killed) every 3 days, and he spent only 1 or 2 days at each. in two cases two new carcasses were found in the immediate vicinity of this animal during the same day, and in each case the wolf spent only 1 day in the area. a second wolf (1053) which had spent most of december and january scavenging on the remains of both deer and moose (_alces alces_) that had died long before, made her first known kill of a deer on january 31, 1969. the kill rate of the other three radiotagged wolves also increased, although the data for them are less complete. the average kill rate for all radiotagged wolves and their associates was one deer per wolf per 16 to 20 days before february 1, and one per 8 to 12 days after february 1 (see mech _et al._, p. 1). footnotes: [36] _m. h. stenlund. personal correspondence to l. d. mech, oct. 10, 1969._ discussion and conclusions under usual snow conditions throughout most of the range of the white-tailed deer, healthy vigorous individuals can probably escape most attacks by wolves. observations by mech (1966), rutter and pimlott (1968), and mech _et al._ (p. 1) indicate that a high percentage of attempts by wolves to kill deer during winter are unsuccessful. this is further implied by the figures of pimlott _et al._ (1969) and mech and frenzel (p. 35) showing that at least during winter wolves tend to kill a disproportionate number of old deer as well as those with various abnormalities and pathological conditions. however, during a winter with extremely deep snow, the usual relationships seem to change somewhat. fewer deer are able to escape wolves, and a surplus is killed. this means that some individuals not vulnerable under the usual snow conditions become vulnerable during extreme conditions. there are two main possible reasons for this, the effect of the extreme weather conditions on the health and vigor of the deer, and the physical effect of the snow on the escapability of the deer. in regard to the first possibility, there was limited evidence that during february and march 1969 some fawns and yearlings in our study area were losing their fat stores. two of three yearlings, and both fawns intact enough for examination during this period lacked back fat, and the marrow in one of six fawn femurs was partly fat depleted. nevertheless, the third yearling inspected still had back fat, and a 3-1/2-year-old doe had heavy omental, renal, heart, and back fat during the same period. thus, although an abnormal decline in the physical condition of some deer in the late winter might partly account for the increased kill by wolves during february and march 1969, the effect of snow on the escapability of the deer probably was also involved. the key difference in snow conditions between the two periods--(1) the winters of 1966-67, 1967-68, and december-january 1968-69, and (2) february and march 1969--was the heavy, persisting accumulation of snow during the latter period, combined with the increasing density of the snow. as our observations show, this greatly hindered the movements of deer fleeing from wolves. under more usual conditions, a running deer might sink through the snow to the ground and thus obtain a firm footing from which to spring again. in discussing wolf-caribou relations in snow, kelsall (1968, p. 249) stated the following: "while caribou (_rangifer tarandus_) will sink into snow even deeper than wolves, their longer legs permit them to run efficiently where a wolf will bog down. nasimovich (1955) considered that roe deer and sika deer could be taken by wolves when snow was not more than 30 cm. (11.8 inches) in depth. at depths above that their pursuit becomes difficult or fruitless." however, it appears that when snow becomes extremely deep, wolves then gain the advantage. with 22 to 48 inches or more of snow to plow through, a deer would have trouble even touching a firm foundation. according to kelsall (1969), deer measure only 20 to 24 inches from hoof tip to chest, with legs extended. it is true that wolves stand even shorter than deer and so might be expected to flounder even more. however, this is where another factor becomes important, the "weight-load-on-track" or total weight per area of track. as kelsall (1969) has pointed out, the mean weight-load-on-track for deer is extremely difficult to measure directly, because the actual under-surface of the deer's foot slants vertically, and a much greater area may be used to support an animal in snow than on a hard surface. this probably explains the discrepancy between kelsall's measurements and work done by verme (1968) in michigan. according to kelsall, deer weight-load-on-track (hoof only) varies between 431 and 1,124 gm./cm.^2. however, verme stated that his compaction gauge (with a weight load of about 211 gm./cm.^2, described earlier in this paper) sank in virtually the same amount in snow as did deer. under the snow conditions in our study area, we found that the same type of compaction gauge generally penetrated to a depth within a half inch of that to which deer were sinking. on this basis, it seems reasonable to suggest that a deer in snow is supported by more of its foot than just the hoof, and that the actual weight-load-on-track of deer in snow is about 211 gm./cm.^2. for wolves, this measure varies from 89 to 103 gm./cm.^2 (foromozov 1946). this means that for the same amount of force applied during running, a wolf would have twice as much support as a deer. it also means that in deep snow a walking wolf generally is much less restricted than a walking deer. late in february 1969, for example, when deer were seriously limited in their ability to travel, wolves were able to travel widely (mech _et al._, p. 1). even though wolves have much greater support than deer, when running they still sink into the snow almost as much as deer under most conditions, probably because both run with such force that snow usually offers little support. nevertheless, with extremely deep snow, the difference in support factor between wolves and deer could become critical, and this is probably what happened during february and march 1969. with deer seriously restrained by the deep snow, even a slight advantage in favor of the wolf could increase hunting success. a high snow density during that period would accentuate this advantage. this is because until the snow becomes dense enough to hold a running deer, each increase in density would further the advantage of the wolf, which would require only half the density to support it, while it would hinder the deer. one result of the extreme snow conditions of early 1969 was that deer tended to gravitate to lakes, where snow was shallow and footing was firm. initially upon disturbance by human beings, and probably by wolves, these deer usually headed inland, but it is apparent from a number of kills examined that when pressed hard by wolves inland, deer headed out onto lakes where possible. apparently they could run there with better footing. however, frozen lakes also provide wolves with good running conditions, and even seem to give them an advantage (rutter and pimlott 1968, mech 1970), so many of these deer were killed (fig. 11). stenlund (1955, p. 44) reported as follows on years of low snowfall, the opposite condition, which demonstrated the same relationship between snow depth and kills on lakes: "the winters of 1951-52 and 1952-53 were abnormally mild with little early snow. as a result, few wolf-killed deer appeared on the lakes and most deer attempted to outrun wolves in the woods." [illustration: _figure 11.--on frozen lakes, wolves often seem to have the advantage over deer, such as in this case where the wolf (center) has just killed a deer and is trying to discourage a raven from joining him in the feed. (photo courtesy of l. d. frenzel_.)] thus it appears that extreme snow conditions in our study area increase the vulnerability of deer to wolf predation in three ways: (1) by causing a decline in the health and nutritional state of some members of the deer population; (2) by hindering the escapability of the deer; and (3) by causing deer to congregate on frozen lakes where wolves have the advantage in running. summary during the winters of 1966-67, 1967-68, and 1968-69, the interactions of wolves (_canis lupus_) and white-tailed deer (_odocoileus virginianus_) were observed in northeastern minnesota from aircraft. snow depth and supporting ability were also measured during these winters, and the ability of wolves to capture deer was compared for a period of usual snow conditions versus a period of extreme snow conditions. it was found that during february and march 1969, when snow remained from 2.5 to 3.9 feet deep and failed to support running deer, wolves were able to capture deer more easily. this was evidenced by kills that were left partly or completely uneaten, and by a higher rate of predation by radiotagged wolves and their associates. although both wolves and deer floundered in the extremely deep snow, the relatively lighter weight-load-on-track of wolves evidently gave them a greater advantage than under the usual snow conditions, when wolves were observed floundering more than deer. this factor, plus a decline in the health and vigor of some segments of the deer population and a tendency for deer to congregate on frozen lakes, where wolves have an advantage, help explain the increased vulnerability of deer to wolf predation during the winters of deep snow. acknowledgments this study was supported by macalester college, the minnesota department of conservation, the usda forest service, the u.s. bureau of sport fisheries and wildlife, and the new york zoological society. pilots john winship, pat magie, jack burgess, and don murray flew the observation planes during radiotracking. miss elizabeth dayton, mr. wallace c. dayton, and the quetico-superior foundation, all of minneapolis, financed mech during the writing of this report. thanks are also due l. j. verme, j. p. kelsall, and j. m. peek for their helpful reviews. literature cited foromozov, a. n. 1946. the snow cover as an environment factor and its importance in the life of mammals and birds. (moskovskoe obshchestvo ispytatelei priroda) materialy k poznaniyu fauny i flory sssr, otdel. zool. n. 5 (xx). (translation from russian published by boreal institute, univ. alberta, edmonton, alberta.) kelsall, j. p. 1968. the caribou. can. wildl. serv. monog. 3, 340 p. kelsall, j. p. 1969. structural adaptations of moose and deer for snow. j. mammal. 50: 302-310. mech, l. d. 1966. hunting behavior of wolves in minnesota. j. mammal. 47: 347-348. mech, l. d. 1970. the wolf: the ecology and behavior of an endangered species. 389 p. new york: natural history press, doubleday. nasimovich, a. a. 1955. the role of the regime of snow cover in the life of ungulates in the u.s.s.r. moskva, akademiya nauk sssr. 403 p. pimlott, d. h., shannon, j. a., and kolenosky, g. b. 1969. the ecology of the timber wolf in algonquin provincial park. out. dep. lands and forests res. rep. (wildl.) 87, 92 p. rutter, r. j., and pimlott, d. h. 1968. the world of the wolf. 202 p. philadelphia and new york: j. b. lippincott co. stenlund, m. h. 1955. a field study of the timber wolf (_canis lupus_) on the superior national forest, minnesota. minn. conserv. dep. tech. bull. 4, 55 p. verme, l. j. 1968. an index of winter severity for northern deer. j. wildl. manage. 32: 566-574. the possible occurrence of the great plains wolf in northeastern minnesota l. david mech and l. d. frenzel, jr. the timber wolf (_canis lupus_) of northeastern minnesota occupies an area within the range given by goldman (1944) for the eastern timber wolf (_c. l. lycaon_ schreber). however, this area is within 150 miles of the eastern edge of the former range of the great plains wolf (_c. l. nubilus_ say), and there is some question as to whether the minnesota wolf is really an intergrade between these two subspecies. writing of _nubilus_, goldman (1944, p. 444) stated: "specimens from eastern minnesota and michigan seem more properly referable to _lycaon_, but relationship to _nubilus_ is shown in somewhat intermediate characters." in describing _lycaon_ as basically a gray wolf, goldman made no mention of the occurrence of black or white color phases in that subspecies. however, in discussing _nubilus_, goldman (1944, p. 442) wrote the following: "many color variations are presented. individuals may be nearly white at any season, except for a sprinkling of black hairs over the back, a small, narrow, but conspicuous, black patch over the tail gland, and a more or less distinctly black tip. black individuals may occur in the same litter with those normally colored." goldman also referred to _nubilus_ as "now probably extinct." [illustration: _figure 1.--a few wolves observed in the study area were jet black. (photo courtesy of l. d. mech.)_] in the eastern part of the range of _lycaon_, color phases other than gray appear to be rare as rutter and pimlott (1969, p. 188) attest: "the uniformity of the color of timber wolves in many areas is evidenced by the work in algonquin park, in ontario. there, over the past eight years, dozens of packs have been observed from the air. however, we have never been able to discriminate between any of them on the basis of the color variation of individual animals." thus it seems significant to report on incidences of black and white color phases in wolves that we have observed in northeastern minnesota during some 480 hours of flying associated with wolf research (mech _et al._, p. 1). the observations took place in the superior national forest, in northern cook, lake, and st. louis counties during the winters of 1966-67, 1967-68, and 1968-69. a total of 309 sightings were made of wolves that could be classified by color; of these, 11 (3.6 percent) were jet black (fig. 1) and two (0.6 percent) were creamish white, with the cream color the most intense on the back. no doubt some of the grays, and perhaps the blacks and whites, were repeated observations, but the figures should provide a reasonable approximation of the incidence of these color phases in this area. all black or white animals except one were observed with gray wolves (table 1 and fig. 2). a number of black wolves, and a few white wolves, have been seen by other observers, all in the three counties listed earlier. to gain some idea of the past incidence of these color phases in the same general area, we asked conservation officers robert hodge, robert jacobsen, and frank baltich of the ely, minnesota, area about the numbers of each phase that they took before 1960. they reported killing an approximate total of 580 wolves, of which four were black and three were white or creamish white. _table 1.--observations of wolves of black and white color phases_ +--------------+-------------------------+--------------------------+ | date | location | color combinations | | | | within each pack | +--------------+-------------------------+--------------------------+ |feb. 24, 1967 t64n-r8w-s1 vera lake 3 grays; 1 black; 1 white| |mar. 4, 1967 t63n-r9w-s27 lake two 3 grays; 2 blacks | |dec. 18, 1968 t63n-r8w-s35 lake insula 2 grays; 2 blacks[37] | |jan. 17, 1969 t65n-r8w-s27 carp lake 1 gray; 1 white | |feb. 1, 1969 t63n-r8w-s13 lake insula 4 blacks; 2 grays[38] | |feb. 5, 1969 t63n-r8w-s8 benezie lake 1 black | |feb. 6, 1969 t63n-r10w-s33 clear lake 3 grays; 1 black | +--------------+-------------------------+--------------------------+ footnotes: [37] these animals were near the shore of the lake, so others may have been inland where they could not be seen. [38] this group might well have been the same as that seen on dec. 18, 1968. [illustration: _figure 2.--a pack of four blacks with two grays (first and third). (photo courtesy of john winship.)_] because black and white color phases have rarely if ever been reported for _lycaon_, yet were well known for _nubilus_, it is not unreasonable to conclude that the race of wolves now occupying northeastern minnesota does show strong _nubilus_ influence. goldman examined the skulls only of 10 minnesota specimens assignable to _lycaon_ and only one referable to _nubilus_. because wolves in the known range of _nubilus_ are thought to be extinct, and because the animals in northeastern minnesota are legally unprotected and subject to a control program, it seems highly desirable that the question of their taxonomy be studied intensively while specimens are still available. acknowledgments this study was supported by macalester college, the new york zoological society, the minnesota department of conservation, the u.s. bureau of sport fisheries and wildlife, and the usda forest service. mr. wallace c. dayton and miss elizabeth dayton, and the quetico-superior foundation, all of minneapolis, financed mech during the preparation of this paper. we would also like to thank dr. j. l. paradiso, dr. h. l. gunderson, and mr. m. h. stenlund for reviewing this manuscript. literature cited goldman, e. a. 1944. the wolves of north america, part ii. classification of wolves. p. 389-636. washington, d.c.: the amer. wildl. inst. pimlott, d. h., shannon, j. a., and kolenosky, g. b. 1969. the ecology of the timber wolf in algonquin provincial park. ont. dep. lands and forests res. pap. (wildl.) 87, 94 p. some recent research papers of the north central forest experiment station tree improvement opportunities in the north-central states related to economic trends, a problem analysis, by david h. dawson and john a. pitcher. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-40, 30 p., illus. 1970. relation between the national fire danger spread component and fire activity in the lake states, by donald a. haines, william a. main, and von j. johnson. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-41, 8 p., illus. 1970. thinning and fertilizing red pine to increase growth and cone production, by john h. cooley. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-42, 8 p., illus. 1970. the impact of estimation errors on evaluations of timber production opportunities, by dennis l. schweitzer. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-43, 18 p., illus. 1970. user evaluation of campgrounds on two michigan national forests, by robert c. lucas. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-44, 15 p., illus. 1970. system identification principles in studies of forest dynamics, by rolfe a. leary. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-45, 38 p., illus. 1970. skiing in the great lakes state: the industry and the skier, by william a. leuschner. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-46, 42 p., illus. 1970. proceedings of the ninth lake states forest tree improvement conference, august 22-23, 1969. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-47, 34 p. 1970. a water curtain for controlling experimental forest fires, by von j. johnson. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-48, 7 p., illus. 1970. wildness ecology: a method of sampling and summarizing data for plant community classification, by lewis f. ohmann and robert r. ream. usda forest serv. res. pap. nc-49, 14 p., illus. 1970. about the forest service.... as our nation grows, people expect and need more from their forests--more wood; more water, fish, and wildlife; more recreation and natural beauty; more special forest products and forage. the forest service of the u.s. department of agriculture helps to fulfill these expectations and needs through three major activities: [illustration] · conducting forest and range research at over 75 locations ranging from puerto rico to alaska to hawaii. · participating with all state forestry agencies in cooperative programs to protect, improve, and wisely use our country's 395 million acres of state, local, and private forest lands. · managing and protecting the 187-million acre national forest system. the forest service does this by encouraging use of the new knowledge that research scientists develop; by setting an example in managing, under sustained yield, the national forests and grasslands for multiple use purposes; and by cooperating with all states and with private citizens in their efforts to achieve better management, protection, and use of forest resources. traditionally, forest service people have been active members of the communities and towns in which they live and work. they strive to secure for all, continuous benefits from the country's forest resources. for more than 60 years, the forest service has been serving the nation as a leading natural resource conservation agency. * * * * * transcriber's notes this is a compilation of four separate reports, each having their own table and figure numbers. i have retained the original table and figure numbers due to all the references made to them within the text. however i did reindex the footnotes for the complete compilation. i made minor punctuation corrections, modified the table formats, moved some illustrations, and made the following typo corrections: table of contents: changed "occurence" to "occurrence". originally: the possible occurence of the great plains wolf in northeastern minnesota page 5: added missing parenthesis after "individuals". originally: the same color (with the exception of a few black or white individuals (see mech and frenzel, page 60) page 27, deleted repeated word "the". originally: when still on the the ice about 15 feet from shore, page 34, literature cited: changed "vegetatation" to "vegetation". originally: ohmann, l. f., and ream, r. r. 1969 vegetatation studies in the bwca page 37: changed "repreductive" to "reproductive". originally: lungs, liver, kidneys, repreductive tracts page 40: changed "wildnerness" to "wilderness". originally: while in the wildnerness more males were taken page 41: changed "decidous" to "deciduous". originally: the deciduous first incisors of fawns and the decidous page 42: changed "end" to "and". originally: from wolf-killed deer end examined grossly in the field page 42, figure 9: changed "discoverd" to "discovered". originally: a permanent first premolar (arrow) was discoverd in m-8. page 47: changed "wildnerness" to "wilderness". originally: not surprising that in the wildnerness area page 57, footnote 36: deleted duplicate "to". originally: personal correspondence to to l. d. mech, oct. 10, 1969. page 58: changed "diffference" to "difference". originally: nevertheless, with extremely deep snow, the diffference page 59, literature cited: changed "roll" to "role". originally: nasimovich, a. a. 1955. the roll of the regime of snow transcriber's note italic text is presented as _text_. university of kansas publications museum of natural history volume 18, no. 5, pp. 421-504 august 20, 1969 comparative ecology of pinyon mice and deer mice in mesa verde national park, colorado by charles l. douglas university of kansas lawrence 1969 university of kansas publications, museum of natural history editors of this number: frank b. cross, philip s. humphrey, j. knox jones, jr. volume 18, no. 5, pp. 421-504 published august 20, 1969 university of kansas lawrence, kansas printed by robert r. (bob) sanders, state printer topeka, kansas 1969 [illustration] 32-6879 contents page introduction 424 physiography 425 vegetation and climate 427 acknowledgments 427 descriptions of major trapping localities 428 home range 435 calculations of home range 437 analysis by inclusive boundary strip 439 analysis by exclusive boundary strip 440 adjusted length of home range 440 distance between captures 441 vegetational analysis of habitats 446 microclimates of different habitats 450 habitat preference 459 nesting and nest construction 461 reproduction 465 growth 469 parental behavior 471 transportation of young 472 changes owing to increase in age 475 anomalies and injuries 476 losses attributed to exposure in traps 477 dental anomalies 478 anomalies in the skull 478 food habits 479 water consumption 482 parasitism 491 predation 493 discussion 495 factors affecting population densities 497 adaptations to environment 499 literature cited 501 introduction centuries ago in southwestern colorado the prehistoric pueblo inhabitants of the mesa verde region expressed their interest in mammals by painting silhouettes of them on pottery and on the walls of kivas. pottery occasionally was made in the stylized form of animals such as the mountain sheep. the silhouettes of sheep and deer persist as pictographs or petroglyphs on walls of kivas and on rocks near prehistoric dwellings. mammalian bones from archeological sites reveal that the fauna of mesa verde was much the same in a. d. 1200, when the pueblo indians were building their magnificent cliff dwellings, as it is today. one of the native mammals is the ubiquitous deer mouse, _peromyscus maniculatus_. the geographic range of this species includes most of the united states, and large parts of mexico and canada. another species of the same genus, the pinyon mouse, _p. truei_, also lives on the mesa verde. the pinyon mouse lives mostly in southwestern north america, occurring from central oregon and southern wyoming to northern oaxaca. this species generally is associated with pinyon pine trees, or with juniper trees, and where the pinyon-juniper woodland is associated with rocky ground (hoffmeister, 1951:vii). _p. maniculatus rufinus_ of mesa verde was considered to be a mountain subspecies by osgood (1909:73). the center of dispersion for _p. truei_ was in the southwestern united states, and particularly in the colorado plateau area (hoffmeister, 1951:vii). the subspecies _p. truei truei_ occurs mainly in the upper sonoran life-zone, and according to hoffmeister (1951:30) rarely enters the lower sonoran or transition life-zones. _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ are the most abundant of the small mammals in mesa verde national park, which comprises about one-third of the mesa verde land mass. under the auspices of the wetherill mesa archeological project, the flora of the park recently was studied by erdman (1962), and by welsh and erdman (1964). these studies have revealed stands of several distinct types of vegetation in the park and where each type occurs. this information greatly facilitated my study of the mammals inhabiting each type of association. the flora and fauna within the park are protected, in keeping with the policies of the national park service, and mammals, therefore, could be studied in a relatively undisturbed setting. thus, the abundance of these two species of _peromyscus_, the botanical studies that preceded and accompanied my study, the relatively undisturbed nature of the park, and the availability of a large area in which extended studies could be carried on, all contributed to the desirability of mesa verde as a study area. my primary purpose in undertaking a study of the two species of _peromyscus_ was to analyze a number of ecological factors influencing each species--their habitat preferences, how the mice lived within their habitats, what they ate, where they nested, what preyed on them, and how one species influenced the distribution of the other. in general, my interest was in how the lives of the two species impinge upon each other in mesa verde. physiography the mesa verde consists of about 200 square miles of plateau country in southwestern colorado, just northeast of four corners, where colorado, new mexico, arizona and utah meet. in 1906, more than 51,000 acres of the mesa verde were set aside, as mesa verde national park, in order to protect the cliff dwellings for which the area is famous. the mesa verde land mass is composed of cross-bedded sandstone strata laid down by upper cretaceous seas. these strata are known locally as the mesaverde group, and are composed, from top to bottom, of cliff house sandstone, the menefee formation, the point lookout sandstone, the well known mancos shale, and the dakota sandstone, the lowest member of the cretaceous strata. the menefee formation is 340 to 800 feet thick, and contains carbonaceous shale and beds of coal. there are surface deposits of pleistocene and recent age, with gravel and boulders of alluvial origin; colluvium composed of heterogeneous rock detritus such as talus and landslide material; and alluvium composed of soil, sand, and gravel. a layer of loess overlays the bedrock of the flat mesa tops in the four corners area. the earliest preserved loess is probably pre-wisconsin, possibly sangamon in age (arrhenius and bonatti, 1965:99). the north rim of mesa verde rises majestically, 1,500 feet above the surrounding montezuma valley. elevations in the park range from 8,500 feet at park point to about 6,500 feet at the southern ends of the mesas. the mesa verde land mass is the remnant of a plateau that erosion has dissected into a series of long, narrow mesas, joined at their northern ends, but otherwise separated by deep canyons. the bottoms of these canyons are from 600 to 900 feet below the tops of the mesas. the entire mesa verde land mass tilts southward; park headquarters, in the middle of chapin mesa (fig. 1), is at about the same elevation as is the entrance of the park, 20 miles by road to the north. [illustration: fig. 1: map of mesa verde national park and vicinity, showing major trapping localities from 1961-1964. trapping localities are designated in the text as follows: 1) north end wetherill mesa 2) rock springs 3) mug house 4) bobcat canyon drainage 5) north of long house 6) juniper-pinyon-bitterbrush site 7) navajo hill 8) west of far view ruins 9) south of far view ruins, also general location of trapping grid 10) m-2 weather station 11) east loop road site 12) big sagebrush stand, southern end chapin mesa 13) grassy meadow, southern end moccasin mesa 14) bedrock outcroppings, southern end moccasin mesa 15) 1/4 mi. se park entrance 16) meadow, 1 mi. se park entrance 17) morfield ridge.] vegetation and climate mesa verde is characterized by pinyon-juniper woodlands that extend throughout much of the west and southwest. although the pinyon-juniper woodland dominates the mesa tops, stands of douglas fir occur in some sheltered canyons and on north-facing slopes. thickets of gambel oak and utah serviceberry cover many hillsides and form a zone of brush at higher elevations in the park. aspens grow in small groups at the base of the point lookout sandstone and at a few other sheltered places where the supply of moisture suffices. individual ponderosa pine are scattered through the park, and stands of this species occur on some slopes and in the bottoms of some sheltered canyons. tall sagebrush grows in deep soils of canyon bottoms, and in some burned areas, and was found to be a good indicator of prehistoric occupation sites. the climate of mesa verde is semi-arid, and most months are dry and pleasant. annual precipitation has averaged about 18.5 inches for the last 40 years. july and august are the months having the most rainfall. snow falls intermittently in winter, and may persist all winter on north-facing slopes and in valleys. in most years, snow is melting and the kinds of animals that hibernate are emerging by the first of april. because of the great differences in elevation between the northern and southern ends of the mesas, differences in climate are appreciable at these locations. winter always is the more severe on the northern end of the park, owing to persistent winds, lower temperatures, and more snow. the northern end of the park is closer to the nearby la platta mountains where ephemeral storms of summer originate. they reach the higher elevations of the park first, but such storms dissipate rapidly and are highly localized. the northern end of the park therefore receives much more precipitation in summer and winter than does the southern end. the difference in precipitation and the extremes in weather between the northern and southern ends of the mesas affect the distribution of plants and animals. species of mammals, plants, and reptiles are most numerous on the middle parts of the mesas, as also are cliff-dwellings, surface sites, and farming terraces of the prehistoric indians. anderson (1961) reported on the mammals of mesa verde national park, and douglas (1966) reported on the amphibians and reptiles. in each of these reports, earlier collections are listed and earlier reports are summarized. i lived in mesa verde national park for 28 months in the period july 1961 to september 1964, while working as biologist for the wetherill mesa archeological project, and the study here reported on is one of the faunal studies that i undertook. acknowledgments this study could not have been completed without the assistance and encouragement of numerous persons. i am grateful to dr. olwen williams, of the university of colorado, for suggesting this study and helping me plan the early phases of it. mr. chester a. thomas, formerly superintendent, and mrs. jean pinkley, formerly chief of interpretation at mesa verde national park, permitted me to use the park's facilities for research, issued collecting permits, and in 1965 appointed me as a research collaborator in order that i might complete my studies. dr. h. douglas osborne, california state college, long beach, formerly supervisory archeologist of the wetherill mesa project, took an active interest in my research and provided supplies, transportation and laboratory and field assistance under the auspices of the wetherill project. his assistance and encouragement are gratefully acknowledged. mrs. marilyn a. colyer of mancos, colorado, ably assisted in analyzing vegetation in the trapping grid; mr. robert r. patterson, the university of kansas, assisted me in the field in october of 1963 and in august of 1965. mr. james a. erdman, united states geological survey, denver, formerly botanist for the wetherill mesa project, and dr. stanley l. welsh, brigham young university, identified plants for me in the field, and checked my identifications of herbarium specimens. i owe my knowledge of the flora in the park to my association with these two capable botanists. i am grateful to the following persons for identification of invertebrates: d. eldon beck, fleas and ticks; paul winston, mites; v. eugene nelson, mites; william wrenn, mites; wayne w. moss, mites; william b. nutting, mites (_desmodex_); marilyn a. colyer, insects; john e. ubelaker, endoparasites; veryl f. keen, botflies. george a. king, architect, of durango, colorado, prepared the original map for figure 1. mr. harold shepherd of mancos, colorado, senior game biologist, colorado department of fish, game and parks, obtained permission for me to use the department's trapping grid near far view ruins, and provided me with preserved specimens of mice. mr. fred e. mang jr., photographer, national park service, processed large numbers of photomicrographs of plant epidermis. dr. kenneth b. armitage, the university of kansas, offered valuable suggestions for the study of water consumption in the two species of _peromyscus_, and permitted me to use facilities of the zoological research laboratories at the university of kansas. dr. richard f. johnston, the university of kansas, permitted me to house mice in his controlled-temperature room at the zoological research laboratories. i am grateful to all of the above mentioned persons for their aid. i acknowledge with gratitude the guidance, encouragement, and critical assistance of professor e. raymond hall throughout the course of the study and preparation of the manuscript. i also extend my sincere thanks to professors henry s. fitch, robert w. baxter, and william a. clemens for their helpful suggestions and assistance. to my wife, virginia, i am grateful for encouragement and assistance with many time-consuming tasks connected with field work and preparation of the manuscript. travel funds provided by the kansas academy of science permitted me to work in the park in august, 1965. the wetherill mesa project was an interdisciplinary program of the national park service to which the national geographic society contributed generously. i am indebted to the society for a major share of the support that resulted in this report. this is contribution no. 44 of the wetherill mesa project. descriptions of major trapping localities trapping was begun in september of 1961 in order to analyze the composition of rodent populations within the park. i used the method of trapping employed by calhoun (1948) in making the census of north american small mammals (n. a. c. s. m.). it consisted of two lines of traps, each 1,000 feet long having 20 trapping stations that were 50 feet apart. the lines were either parallel at a distance of 400 feet from each other, or were joined to form a line 2,000 feet long. three snap traps were placed within a five-foot radius of each station, and were set for three consecutive nights. more than a dozen areas were selected for extensive trapping (fig. 1). some of these were retrapped in consecutive years in order to measure changes in populations. one circular trapline of 159.5 feet radius was established in november 1961, and was tended for 30 consecutive days to observe the effect of removing the more dominant species (calhoun, 1959). other mouse traps and rat traps were set in suitable places on talus slopes, rocky cliffs, and in cliff dwellings. most of these traps were operated for three consecutive nights. in order to test hypotheses concerning habitat preferences of each of the species of _peromyscus_, several previously untrapped areas that appeared to be ideal habitat for one species, but not for the other, were selected for sampling. in the summers of 1963 and 1964 snap traps were set along an arbitrary line through each of these areas. traps were placed in pairs; each pair was 20 feet from the adjacent pairs. a mixture of equal parts of peanut butter, bacon grease, raisins, roman meal and rolled oats was used as bait. rolled oats or coarsely ground scratch feed was used in areas where insects removed the mixture from the traps. rodents trapped by me were variously prepared as study skins with skulls, as flat skins with skulls, as skeletons, as skulls only, or as alcoholics. representative specimens were deposited in the university of kansas museum of natural history. in the course of my study, traps were set in the following areas: _morfield ridge_ in july 1959 a fire destroyed more than 2,000 acres of pinyon-juniper forest (_pinus edulis_ and _juniperus osteosperma_) in the eastern part of the park. the burned area extends from morfield canyon to waters canyon, encompassing several canyons, whites mesa, and a ridge between morfield canyon and waters canyon that is known locally as morfield ridge (fig. 1). beginning on september 4, 1961, three pairs of traplines were run on this ridge at elevations of 7,300 to 7,600 feet. vegetation in the trapping area consisted of dense growths of grasses and herbaceous plants, which had covered the ground with seeds. in this and in the following accounts, the generic and specific names of plants are those used by welsh and erdman (1964). the following plants were identified from the trapping area on morfield ridge: _lithospermum ruderale_ _chenopodium pratericola_ _achillea millefolium_ _artemisia tridentata_ _aster bigelovii_ _chrysothamnus depressus_ _chrysothamnus nauseosus_ _helianthus annuus_ _helianthella_ sp. _lactuca_ sp. _lepidium montanum_ _quercus gambelii_ _agropyron smithii_ _bromus inermis_ _bromus japonicus_ _oryzopsis hymenoides_ _calochortus nuttallii_ _linum perenne_ _sphaeralcea coccinea_ _polygonum sawatchense_ _solidago petradoria_ _wyethia arizonica_ _nicotiana attenuata_ _fendlera rupicola_ _penstemon linarioides_ only _peromyscus maniculatus_, _perognathus apache_ and _reithrodontomys megalotis_ were taken in this area (table 1). many birds inhabit this area, including hawks, ravens, towhees, jays, juncos, woodpeckers, doves, sparrows and titmice. rabbits, badgers and mule deer also live in the area. only two reptiles, a horned lizard and a collared lizard, were seen. _south of far view ruins_ two parallel trap lines were established on october 4, 1961, in the area immediately south of far view ruins (fig. 1). in altitude, latitude and geographical configuration the area is similar to that trapped in the morfield burn, but the chapin mesa site had not been burned. canopy vegetation is pinyon-juniper forest. a dense understory was made up of _amelanchier utahensis_ (serviceberry), _cercocarpos montanus_ (mountain mahogany), _purshia tridentata_ (bitterbrush), and _quercus gambelii_ (gambel oak). the ground cover consisted of small clumps of _poa fendleriana_ (muttongrass), and _koeleria cristata_ (junegrass), intermingled with growths of one or more of the following: _artemisia nova_ _solidago petradoria_ _sitanion hystrix_ _astragalus scopulorum_ _lupinus caudatus_ _eriogonum alatum_ _penstemon linarioides_ _eriogonum racemosum_ _eriogonum umbellatum_ _polygonum sawatchense_ _amelanchier utahensis_ _purshia tridentata_ _comandra umbellata_ seeds of _cercocarpos montanus_ covered the ground under the bushes in much of the trapping area, and large numbers of juniper berries were on the ground beneath the trees. individuals of _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_ were caught in this area (table 1). several deer, rabbits, one coyote, and numerous birds were seen in the area. no reptiles were noticed, but they were not searched for. a mountain lion was seen in this general area two weeks after trapping was completed. _west of far view ruins_ three pairs of traplines were run west of far view ruins in an area comparable in vegetation, altitude, general topography, and configuration to the area previously described. the elevations concerned are typical of the middle parts of mesas throughout the park. this area differs from the trapping area south of far view ruins and the one on morfield ridge in being wider and on the western side of the mesa. the woody understory was sparse in most places, and where present was composed of _cercocarpos montanus_, _purshia tridentata_, _fendlera rupicola_ (fendlerbush), _amelanchier utahensis_, _quercus gambelii_, and _artemisia tridentata_ (sagebrush). the herbaceous ground cover was dominated by _solidago petradoria_ (rock goldenrod), and grasses--including _poa fendleriana_, _oryzopsis hymenoides_, and _sitanion hystrix_. other herbaceous species were as follows: _echinocercus coccineus_ _achillea millefolium_ _aster bigelovii_ _wyethia arizonica_ _lepidium montanum_ _lupinus caudatus_ _yucca baccata_ _linum perenne_ _eriogonum racemosum_ _eriogonum umbellatum_ _polygonum sawatchense_ _delphinium nelsonii_ _penstemon linarioides_ fresh diggings of pocket gophers were observed along the trap lines. badger tunnels were noted in numerous surface mounds that are remnants of prehistoric indian dwellings, but no badgers were seen. numerous deer and several rabbits were present. juncos, two species of jays, and woodpeckers were seen daily. no reptiles were observed. both _peromyscus maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ were caught in this area (table 1). _big sagebrush stand, south chapin mesa_ a circular trapline, 1,000 feet in circumference, was established on november 16, 1961, in a stand of big sagebrush, and was operated for 30 consecutive nights. the vegetation of the trapping area was predominantly _artemisia tridentata_ (big sagebrush), interspersed with a few scattered seedlings of pinyon and juniper. this stand was burned in 1858 (tree-ring date by david smith) and some charred juniper snags still stood. the deep sandy soil also supported a variety of grasses and a few other small plants. the following species were common in this area: _bromus inermis_ _oryzopsis hymenoides_ _poa fendleriana_ _sitanion hystrix_ _solidago petradoria_ _orthocarpus purpureo-albus_ the 15 to 20 acres of sagebrush were surrounded by pinyon-juniper forest. the trapping station closest to the forest was approximately 100 feet from the edge of the woodland. more _p. truei_ than _p. maniculatus_ were caught here (table 1). _east loop road, chapin mesa_ the trapping area lies north of cliff palace, eastward of the loop road, at elevations of 6,875 to 6,925 feet. two pairs of traplines were run from january 9, 1962, to january 12, 1962, and from february 13 to 15, 1962. vegetation was pinyon-juniper woodland with an understory of mixed shrubs. one to four inches of old snow covered the ground during most of the trapping period, but the ground beneath trees and shrubs was generally clear, providing suitable location for traps. numerous juncos and jays were seen in this area; deer and rabbits also were present. individuals of _p. truei_ and of _p. maniculatus_ were taken (table 1). _navajo hill, chapin mesa_ navajo hill is the highest point (8,140 feet) on chapin mesa. the top of the hill is rounded and the sides slope gently southward and westward until they level out into mesa-top terrain at elevations of 7,950 to 8,000 feet. the northern and eastern slopes of the hill drop abruptly into the respective canyon slopes of the east fork of navajo canyon and the west fork of little soda canyon. the gradually tapering southwestern slope of the hill extends southward for one mile and is bisected by the main highway, which runs the length of the mesa top. heavy growths of grasses cover the ground; _amelanchier utahensis_, _cercocarpos montanus_, and _fendlera rupicola_ comprise the only tall vegetation. trees are lacking on this part of the mesa, except on the canyon slopes, where _quercus gambelii_ forms an almost impenetrable barrier. four traplines were run from may 4-7, 1962, and from may 9-12, 1962. _p. maniculatus_ was taken but _p. truei_ was not present here in 1962, or in 1964 or 1965 when additional trapping was performed as a check on populations (table 1). other species trapped include the montane vole, long-tailed vole, and colorado chipmunk. mule deer and coyotes were abundant in the area. striped whipsnakes, rattlesnakes and gopher snakes are known to occur in this vicinity (douglas, 1966). _north end wetherill mesa_ in 1934 a widespread fire deforested large areas of pinyon-juniper woodland on the northern end of wetherill mesa. the current vegetation consists of shrubs with a dense ground cover of grasses. many dead trees still remain on the ground, providing additional cover for wildlife. the trapping area was a wide, grassy meadow, three and a half miles south of the northern end of the mesa. a pronounced drainage runs through this area and empties into rock canyon. four traplines were run parallel to each other. the first lines were established on may 23, 1962, and the second pair on june 3, 1962. another pair of lines was run in a grassy area two miles south of the northern escarpment of wetherill mesa. this area was one and a half miles north of the above-mentioned area. these lines ran along the eastern side of a drainage leading into long canyon. the vegetation was essentially the same in both areas, and they will be considered together. the vegetation was composed predominantly of grasses. _quercus gambelii_ and _amelanchier utahensis_ were the codominant shrubs. _artemisia tridentata_ and _chrysothamnus depressus_ (dwarf rabbitbrush), were common. plants in the two areas included the following: _juniperus scopulorum_ _symphoricarpos oreophilus_ _artemisia ludoviciana_ _sitanion hystrix_ _stipa comata_ _astragalus scopulorum_ _artemisia tridentata_ _chrysothamnus depressus_ _helianthus annuus_ _tetradymia canescens_ _quercus gambelii_ _bromus tectorum_ _poa fendleriana_ _lupinus caudatus_ _yucca baccata_ _sphaeralcea coccinea_ _eriogonum umbellatum_ _amelanchier utahensis_ _fendlera rupicola_ _lomatium pinatasectum_ individuals of _p. maniculatus_ and of _reithrodontomys megalotis_ were caught (table 1). table 1--major trapping localities in mesa verde national park, colorado. vegetational key as follows: 1) pinyon-juniper-muttongrass 2) pinyon-juniper-mixed shrubs 3) juniper-pinyon-bitterbrush 4) juniper-pinyon-mountain mahogany 5) grassland with mixed shrubs 6) big sagebrush 7) pinyon-juniper-big sagebrush 8) grassland. column headings: a: date b: no. trap nights c: _p. truei_ d: _p. man._ e: type of vegetation ========================+=============+=======+=====+=====+=== locality | a | b | c | d | e ------------------------+-------------+-------+-----+-----+-- morfield ridge | sept. 1961 | 1080 | 0 | 83 | 5 | oct. 1963 | 360 | 0 | 13 | 5 | | | | | s. of far view | oct. 1961 | 360 | 10 | 13 | 2 | | | | | w. of far view | oct. 1961 | 1080 | 22 | 17 | 2 | | | | | south chapin mesa | nov.-dec. | 3600 | 16 | 9 | 6 | 1961 | | | | | | | | | east loop road | jan. 1962 | 720 | 6 | 2 | 2 | | | | | navajo hill | may 1962 | 720 | 0 | 18 | 5 | aug. 1964 | 20 | 0 | 2 | 5 | aug. 1965 | 50 | 0 | 8 | 5 | | | | | n. wetherill mesa | may-june | 1080 | 0 | 57 | 5 | 1962 | | | | | | | | | bobcat canyon drainage | june 1962 | 360 | 0 | 0 | 6 | | | | | n. of long house | june 1962 | 1080 | 3 | 4 | 1 | | | | | mug house--rock springs | aug. 1962 | 720 | 8 | 14 | 4 | aug. 1963 | 720 | 9 | 7 | 4 | | | | | s. wetherill mesa | aug. 1962 | 720 | 0 | 5 | 3 | | | | | 1 mi. se park entr. | june 1963 | 50 | 0 | 16 | 7 | | | | | 1/4 mi. se park entr. | july 1963 | 100 | 0 | 7 | 8 | | | | | m-2 weather sta. | may 1964 | 25 | 2 | 0 | 1 | | | | | 8 mi. s north rim | | | | | moccasin mesa | aug. 1964 | 100 | 0 | 3 | 8 | | | | | 10 mi. s north rim | | | | | moccasin mesa | aug. 1964 | 25 | 2 | 0 | 2 ------------------------+-------------+-------+-----+-----+--_bobcat canyon drainage_ bobcat canyon, a large secondary canyon on the eastern side of wetherill mesa, is a major drainage for much of the mesa at its widest part. the mesa top drains southeast into a pour-off at the head of bobcat canyon. a stand of big sagebrush, _artemisia tridentata_, grows in the sandy soil of the drainage, and extends northwest for several hundred yards from the pour-off. the sagebrush invades the pinyon-juniper forest at the periphery of the area. two traplines were set in the drainage, with trapping stations at intervals of 25 feet. the lines traversed elevations of 7,000 to 7,100 feet, and were run from june 26 to 29, 1962. grasses are the most abundant plants in the ground cover. _artemisia dracunculus_ is common in the drainage, and _a. nova_ grows around the periphery of the drainage. other species occurring in this stand include: _aster bigelovii_ _tetradymia canescens_ _tragopogon pratensis_ _bromus tectorum_ _poa fendleriana_ _sitanion hystrix_ _stipa comata_ _lupinus argenteus_ _calochortus gunnisonii_ _sphaeralcea coccinea_ _phlox hoodii_ _eriogonum umbellatum_ _peraphyllum ramosissimum_ _purshia tridentata_ _penstemon linarioides_ no mice were caught in three nights of trapping (360 trap nights), and only one mammal, a _spermophilus variegatus_, was seen. _north of long house, wetherill mesa_ pinyon-juniper forest with a dominant ground cover of _poa fendleriana_ was described by erdman (1962) as one of the three distinct types of pinyon-juniper woodland on wetherill mesa. such a woodland occurs adjacent to the bobcat canyon drainage, and is continuous across the mesa from above long house to the area near step house. plants in the ground cover include: _cryptantha bakeri_ _opuntia rhodantha_ _chrysothamnus depressus_ _solidago petradoria_ _koeleria cristata_ _lupinus argenteus_ _yucca baccata_ _phlox hoodii_ _eriogonum racemosum_ _eriogonum umbellatum_ _cordylanthus wrightii_ _pedicularis centranthera_ _penstemon linarioides_ _penstemon strictus_ two traplines were run from july 9 to 12, 1962, in the area south of the bobcat canyon drainage at an elevation of 7,100 feet. no mice were caught in three nights of trapping. four additional lines were established on july 24, 1962, and were run for three nights, in the area north of the bobcat canyon drainage at elevations of 7,100 to 7,150 feet. _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ were caught here (table 1). this vegetational association may have few rodents because there is a shortage of places where they can hide. although _poa fendleriana_ is abundant, the lack of shrubs leaves little protective cover for mammals. _mug house--rock springs_ a juniper-pinyon-mountain mahogany association extends from the area of mug house to rock springs, on wetherill mesa. on that part of the ridge just above mug house, the understory is predominantly _cercocarpos montanus_ (mountain mahogany), but northward toward rock springs the understory changes to _fendlera rupicola_, _amelanchier utahensis_, _cercocarpos_, and _purshia tridentata_. the ground cover is essentially the same as that in the pinyon-juniper-muttongrass association described previously. four traplines were run from july 31 to august 2, 1962, and from august 13 to 15, 1963. these lines ran northwest-southeast, starting 1,000 feet southeast of, and ending 3,000 feet northwest of, mug house. the lines traversed elevations of 7,225 to 7,325 feet. individuals of _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ were caught here (table 1). deer and rabbits inhabit the trapping area. bobcats have been seen, by myself and by others, near rock springs. lizards of the genera _cnemidophorus_ and _sceloporus_, as well as gopher snakes were seen in this area. _juniper--pinyon--bitterbrush_ three pairs of traplines were run from august 7-9, 1962, in a juniper-pinyon-bitterbrush stand on the southern end of wetherill mesa, starting 200 yards southwest of double house (fig. 1). the forest on the southern end of the mesas consists of widely-spaced trees, which reflect the low amounts of precipitation at these lower elevations. juniper trees are more numerous than pinyons, and both species are stunted in comparison to trees farther north on the mesa. _purshia tridentata_ (bitterbrush) is the understory codominant. _artemisia nova_ (black sagebrush) is present and grasses are the most abundant plants in the ground cover. herbaceous species in the sparse ground cover include the following: _opuntia polyacantha_ _solidago petradoria_ _lathyrus pauciflorus_ _penstemon linarioides_ _lupinus caudatus_ _yucca baccata_ _phlox hoodii_ only _p. maniculatus_ was caught in this stand; all mice were caught in the first night of trapping. five areas were selected for trapping in the summers of 1963 or 1964, in order to test hypotheses concerning habitat preferences of each of the species of _peromyscus_. four of these areas appeared to be ideal habitat for one species, but not for the other. the fifth area was expected to produce both species of _peromyscus_. each of these areas is discussed below. _one mile southeast of park's entrance_ a small stand of _artemisia tridentata_, occurring one mile southeast of the entrance to the park, is bordered to the north and northeast by a grassy meadow, discussed in the following account. kangaroo rats have been reported in this general area, and i wanted to determine whether _p. maniculatus_ and _dipodomys_ occurred together there. fifty trap nights in this sagebrush, on june 20, 1963, yielded only _p. maniculatus_ (table 1). _meadow, one-quarter mile southeast of park's entrance_ a grassy meadow lies just to the east of the highway into the park, one-quarter of a mile southeast of the park's entrance. on july 30, 1963, one hundred traps were placed in two lines through the meadow, and were run for one night. only individuals of _p. maniculatus_ were caught (table 1). _m-2 weather station, chapin mesa_ the m-2 weather station of the wetherill mesa archeological project was on the middle of chapin mesa at an elevation of 7,200 feet. this site was in an old c. c. c. area, about one mile north of the park's u. s. weather bureau station. the vegetation surrounding the m-2 site was a pinyon-juniper-muttongrass association. it was thought that both species of _peromyscus_ would occur in this habitat. on may 10, 1964, 25 traps were placed in this area and were run for one night. only individuals of _p. truei_ were caught (table 1). _grassy meadow, southern end moccasin mesa_ this large meadow is located eight miles south of the northern rim of moccasin mesa. the meadow lies in a broad, shallow depression that forms the head of a large drainage (fig. 1). to the south of the meadow the drainage deepens, then reaches bedrock as it approaches the pour-off. on august 23, 1964, one hundred traps were set in pairs in a line through the middle of the meadow; adjacent pairs were 20 feet from each other. only individuals of _p. maniculatus_ were caught (table 1). grasses are dominant in the ground cover, and _sphaeralcea coccinea_ (globe mallow) is codominant. the abundance of globe mallow is due to the present and past disturbance of this meadow by a colony of pocket gophers. trees are absent in the meadow. species of plants include the following: _opuntia polyacantha_ _chenopodium_ sp. _artemisia ludoviciana_ _chrysothamnus nauseosus_ _koeleria cristata_ _poa pratensis_ _lupinus ammophilus_ _calochortus gunnisonii_ _erigeron speciosus_ _gutierrezia sarothrae_ _tetradymia canescens_ _tragopogon pratensis_ _bromus tectorum_ _sphaeralcea coccinea_ _eriogonum racemosum_ _polygonum sawatchense_ _comandra umbellata_ _penstemon strictus_ _bedrock outcroppings, southern end moccasin mesa_ two miles south of the preceding site, much of the mesa is a wide expanse of exposed bedrock, which extends approximately 100 feet inward from the edges of the mesa. pinyon-juniper-mixed shrub woodland adjoins the bedrock. on august 23, 1964, 25 traps were placed along the bedrock, near the edge of the forest. only two mice, both _p. truei_, were caught. (table 1). home range in order to learn how extensively mice of different ages travel within their habitats, whether their home ranges overlap, and how many animals live within an area, it was necessary to determine home ranges for as many mice, of each species, as possible (hayne, 1949; mohr and stumpf, 1966; sanderson, 1966). in 1961, the colorado department of fish, game and parks established a permanent trapping grid in the area south of far view ruins (fig. 1). the grid was constructed and used by mr. harold r. shepherd, senior game biologist, and his assistant, in the summers of 1961 and 1962, in a study concerning the effect of rodents on browse plants used by deer. the department of fish, game and parks allowed me to use the grid during 1963 and 1964, and also permitted me to use its sherman live traps. the grid is divided into 16 units, each with 28 stations (fig. 2). traps at four stations (1a, 1b, 1c, 1d) are operated in each unit at the same time, with two traps being set at each station. the traps are moved each day in a counter-clockwise rotation to the next block of four stations (2a, 2b, 2c, 2d) within each unit. the stations are arranged so that on any given night, traps in adjacent units are separated by at least 200 feet. as a result, animals are less inclined to become addicted to traps, for even within one unit they must move at least 50 feet to be caught on consecutive nights. [illustration: fig. 2: diagram of trapping grid for small mammals, showing units of subdivision. trapping stations were numbered in each unit as shown in unit a.] traps were carefully shaded and a ball of kapok was placed in each trap to provide protection against the killing temperatures that can develop inside. in spite of these precautions, mice occasionally succumbed from heat or cold. the traps were baited with coarsely-ground scratch feed. mammals trapped in the grid were inspected for molt, sexual maturity, larvae of botflies, anomalies, and other pertinent data. each animal was marked by toeand ear-clipping and then released. four toes were used on each front foot, and all five toes were used on each hind foot; two toes were clipped on the right front foot to signify number nine. the tip of the left ear was clipped to signify number 100, and the tip of the right ear was clipped to signify 200. if 300 or more animals had been captured, the tip of the tail would have been clipped to represent number 300. a maximum of 799 animals could have been marked with this system, which was used by shepherd. i continued with it, starting my listings with number one. only two mice were caught that had been marked in the previous season by shepherd. live traps were operated in the trapping grid from july 9 through october 25, 1963, and from june 25 through august 21, 1964. traps were rotated through all stations five different times (35 days) in 1963, and twice (14 days) in 1964. approximately three man hours were required each day to service and rotate the traps to the next group of stations. by the autumn of 1964, a total of 282 mice had been captured, marked and released; these were handled 817 times. in 1963, 235 mice were caught for an average of 20 captures per day; in 1964, 47 mice were caught for an average of 9 captures per day. calculations of home range a diagrammatic map of the trapping grid was drawn to scale with one centimeter equal to 100 linear feet. trapping stations were numbered on the diagram to correspond with stations in the field. an outline of this drawing also was prepared to the same scale, but station numbers were omitted. mimeographed copies of such a form could be placed over the diagrammatic map and marks made at each station where an animal was caught. a separate form was kept for each animal that was caught four or more times. in calculating home range, it was assumed that animals would venture half-way from the peripheral stations, at which they were caught, to the next station outside the range. a circle having a scaled radius of 25 feet (half the distance between stations) was inscribed around each station on the periphery of the home range by means of a drafting compass. the estimated range for each animal was then outlined on the form by connecting peripheries of the circles. both the inclusive boundary-strip method and the exclusive boundary-strip method (stickel, 1954:3) were used to estimate the ranges. the area encompassed within the home ranges was measured by planimetering the outline of the drawing. at least two such readings were taken for each home range; then these planimeter values were converted into square feet. the customary practice in delimiting home ranges on a scaled map of a grid is to inscribe squares around the peripheral stations at which the animal was trapped, and then to connect the exterior corners of these squares (stickel, 1954:3). if the distance between stations was 50 feet, such squares would have sides 50 feet long. an easier method is to inscribe a circle having a scaled radius of 25 feet around the peripheral stations by means of a drafting compass. to my knowledge this method has not been used previously and consequently has not been tested by experiments with artificial populations. to test the accuracy of this method, a "grid of traps" was constructed by using 8-1/2 by 11 inch sheets of graph paper with heavy lines each centimeter. the intersects of the heavier lines were considered as trap stations. a "home range" of circular shape, 200 feet (4 cm.) in diameter, with an area of 31,146 square feet (0.71 acre), was cut from a sheet of transparent plastic. another "home range" was made in an oblong shape with rounded ends. this range measured 2 by 65 centimeters (100 by 325 feet) and had an area of 32,102 square feet (0.74 acre). each plastic range was tossed at random on sheets of graph paper for fifty trials each. the range was outlined on the graph paper, then circles having a scaled radius of 25 feet were inscribed around each "trap station" within the range. the peripheries of the inscribed circles were then connected and the estimated home range was delimited by the exclusive boundary-strip method. the estimated range was measured by planimetering, and the data were compared with the known home range (table 2). it was found that when calculated by the exclusive boundary-strip method, the circular home range was overestimated by 2.22 per cent. the oblong home range was overestimated by only 1.50 per cent. stickel (1954:4) has shown that the exclusive boundary-strip method is the most accurate of several methods of estimating home ranges, and in her experiments this method gave an overestimate of two per cent of the known range. thus, my method of encircling the peripheral stations yields results that are, on the average, as accurate as the more involved method of inscribing squares about the trap stations, and saves a great deal of time as well. my method probably yields better accuracy; a perfect circle is easily drawn by means of a compass, whereas a perfect square is more difficult to construct without a template. it is generally understood that the estimated home range of an animal tends to increase in size with each additional capture; this increase is rapid at first, then slows. theoretically, the more often an animal is captured, the more reliable is the estimate of its home range. most animals, however, rarely are captured more than a few times. the investigator must decide how many captures are necessary before the data seem to be valid for estimating home ranges. an animal must be trapped at a minimum of three stations before its home range can be estimated, and even then the area enclosed in the triangle will be much less than the actual home range. some investigators have plotted home ranges from only three captures (redman and selander, 1958:391), whereas others consider that far more captures are needed to make a valid estimate of range (stickel, 1954:5). table 2--summary of data from experiments in calculating home ranges for an artificial population. =======+========+=========+==========+========+================+======== | | | | actual | calculated | | no. | trap | shape | area | area of range | series | of | spacing | of | of | by exclusive | â± s. d. | trials | in ft. | range | range | boundary-strip | | | | | in ft. | method | -------+--------+---------+----------+--------+----------------+------- a | 50 | 50 | circular | 31,146 | 31,782 | 9,600 b | 50 | 50 | oblong | 32,102 | 32,583 | 9,466 -------+--------+---------+----------+--------+----------------+-------in my study, 161 individuals of _p. truei_ were caught from one to 13 times each. the estimated home ranges of 10 individuals of _p. truei_, each caught from eight to 13 times, were plotted and measured after each capture from the fourth to the last. the percentage of the total estimated range represented by the fourth through tenth captures was, respectively, 52, 65, 73, 85, 88, 93, and 96 per cent. ninety-seven individuals of _p. maniculatus_ were caught from one to 10 times each. for five individuals that were each caught from seven to 10 times, the percentage of total estimated range represented by the fourth through seventh captures was, respectively, 59, 69, 85, and 93 per cent. the above percentages do not imply that the true home range of individuals of these species can be reliably estimated after seven or 10 captures; the average percentages do, however, indicate a fairly rapid increase in known size of home ranges between the fourth and tenth captures. the estimated home ranges of _p. maniculatus_ tended to reach maximum known size at about seven captures, whereas the estimated ranges of _p. truei_ tended to attain maximum known size after nine or more captures. the controversy over the number of captures of an individual animal required for a reliable estimate of its home range was not settled by my data. i initially decided to estimate home ranges for animals caught five or more times and at three or more stations. of the 282 animals caught and marked, only 48 were caught five or more times. because of the small numbers of _p. maniculatus_ that were caught five or more times, i wanted to determine whether mice caught four times had an estimated range that was significantly smaller than that of mice caught five times. eight individuals of _p. maniculatus_ were caught four times each, and it seemed desirable to use the data from these mice if such use was justified. data from the 48 mice caught five or more times were used for this testing. by means of a t-test, i compared the estimated ranges of those 48 mice following their fourth capture with ranges estimated after the fifth capture. the results did not demonstrate significant differences between the two sets of estimates; therefore, i decided to use data resulting from four or more captures, and at three or more stations. table 3 shows estimations of the home ranges of males and females of each species of _peromyscus_. when the inclusive boundary-strip method is used, the area encompassed by the range tends to be larger than the area of the same range when estimated by the exclusive boundary-strip method. stickel (1954:4) has shown that the inclusive boundary-strip method overestimates the home range by about 17 percent. analysis of home range by inclusive boundary-strip method when all age groups were considered, the ranges of 16 males of _p. truei_ averaged 20,000 to 80,000 square feet (ave. 47,333; s. d. 19,286). the sizes of home ranges were not significantly different (p > 0.05) between adult and subadult (including juveniles and young) males. all females of _p. truei_ (22) had ranges encompassing 16,666 to 83,333 square feet (ave. 40,666; s. d. 17,566). sizes of home ranges between adult and non-adult females did not differ significantly. the mean range of adult males of _p. truei_ did not differ from that of adult females (p > 0.05). fifteen males of _p. maniculatus_ had ranges of 16,666 to 66,666 square feet (ave. 34,222; s. d. 16,000); six adult males had ranges of 33,333 to 53,333 square feet (ave. 38,666). sizes of home ranges of adult and non-adult males of this species did not differ significantly. five females of _p. maniculatus_ had ranges of 33,333 to 76,666 square feet (ave. 51,333; s. d. 15,913); of these, four adults had ranges of 33,333 to 53,333 square feet (ave. 45,000). sizes of home ranges of adult males of this species did not differ (p > 0.05) from those of adult females. the ranges of adult males of _p. truei_ were compared with ranges of adult male of _p. maniculatus_; likewise the ranges of adult females of each species were compared. in each case no difference was demonstrable in sizes of ranges between the species. the largest home range of any _p. truei_ was that of animal number 18, a young male with an estimated home range of 133,333 square feet. this animal was caught only five times, and his home range appeared unusually large in relation to that of other young males of this species; hence some of the widely-spaced sites of capture probably represent excursions from the animal's center of activity, rather than the true periphery of his range. these data were, therefore, not used in further computations. stickel (1954:13) pointed out the advisability of removing such records from data to be used in calculations of home range. number eight had the largest home range of any female of _p. truei_; she was captured ten times, and had a range of 83,333 square feet. the vegetation within her range was pinyon-juniper woodland with understories of _amelanchier_, _artemisia nova_ and _purshia_. most of her home range was in the western half of unit h, but extended into parts of units d, i, g and n. the largest home range for adult males of either species was number three of _p. truei_; he had a range of 80,000 square feet. the largest range for an adult of _p. maniculatus_ was 66,666 square feet (table 3). analysis of home range by exclusive boundary-strip method stickel (1954:4) has shown that under theoretical conditions the exclusive boundary-strip method is the most accurate of several methods of estimating home range. this method overestimates the known range by only two percent. table 3 shows a comparison of home range calculations obtained for each species, when calculated by inclusive and exclusive boundary-strip methods. the data for males and for females of each species were compared in the same manner as in the inclusive boundary-strip method. the ranges of 16 male individuals of _p. truei_ encompassed 14,000 to 56,666 square feet (ave. 34,333; s. d. 13,266); of these, the ranges of 10 adult males were from 23,333 to 53,333 square feet (ave. 39,733). twenty-two females of this species had ranges of 13,333 to 50,000 square feet (ave. 27,199; s. d. 8,820). eighteen adult females had the same extremes, but the average size of range, 28,000 square feet, was larger. sizes of home ranges of males and females did not differ significantly. the ranges of fifteen males of _p. maniculatus_ encompassed 13,333 to 46,666 square feet (ave. 26,666; s. d. 10,180). of these, six adults had the same extremes in range, but an average size of 31,440 square feet. the ranges of five females of _p. maniculatus_ varied from 28,000 to 53,333 square feet (ave. 37,199; s. d. 10,140). all but one of these females were adults. the sizes of home ranges of males and females did not differ significantly. no differences were found when ranges of adult males, or adult females, of both species were compared. adjusted length of home range the adjusted length of the range also can be used as an expression of home range. in this method, one-half the distance to the next trapping station is added to each end of the line drawn between stations at either end of the long axis of the range (stickel, 1954:2). the average length of home range for 15 males of _p. truei_ was 363 feet (s. d. 105 ft.); for 22 females of this species 326 feet (s. d. 94 ft.); for 14 males of _p. maniculatus_ 286 feet long (s. d. 94 ft.); and for four females of this species 347 feet (s. d. 83 ft.). the mean lengths of range of males and females differed significantly in _p. maniculatus_, but not in _p. truei_. however, no difference was demonstrable in mean sizes of ranges between males, or between females, of the two species. distance between captures the distance between captures has been used by several investigators as an index of the extent of home range. more short than long distances tend to be recorded when traps are visited at random, and when inner traps of the range are more strongly favored (stickel, 1954:10). table 3--summary of data for estimated home ranges of mice from a wild population. ================+==================+=====+======+============+========= | | | | estimated | type of | species | sex | no. | home range | â± s. d. estimate | | | | in sq. ft. | ----------------+------------------+-----+------+------------+-------- inclusive | _p. truei_ | m | 16 | 47,333 | 19,286 boundary-strip | " " | f | 22 | 40,666 | 17,566 | | | | | | _p. maniculatus_ | m | 15 | 34,222 | 16,000 | " " | f | 5 | 51,333 | 15,913 ----------------+------------------+-----+------+------------+-------- exclusive | _p. truei_ | m | 16 | 34,333 | 13,266 boundary-strip | " " | f | 22 | 27,199 | 8,820 | | | | | | _p. maniculatus_ | m | 15 | 26,666 | 10,180 | " " | f | 5 | 37,199 | 10,140 ----------------+------------------+-----+------+------------+-------- adjusted length | _p. truei_ | m | 16 | 363 | 105 | " " | f | 22 | 326 | 94 | | | | | | _p. maniculatus_ | m | 14 | 286 | 94 | " " | f | 4 | 347 | 83 ----------------+------------------+-----+------+------------+--------it is important to know approximately how far mice travel in one night. the distances traveled between captures on successive nights were calculated for all mice. even animals caught most frequently usually were caught only once or twice on successive nights. data from animals caught less than four times, and hence not usable for calculations of home range, could be used in calculating the distance between captures on successive nights. thus the data were sampled in a more or less random manner for each species. the mean distance traveled between captures on successive nights was determined for adult and non-adult animals (juvenile, young and subadult) of both sexes. adult males of _p. maniculatus_ traveled an average of 151.66 feet (n = 24); young males of this species traveled an average of 134.28 feet (n = 7). adult females of _p. maniculatus_ traveled 170.00 feet (n = 4); no data were available for young females. adult males of _p. truei_ traveled an average of 169.47 feet (n = 38); and young males traveled 159.44 feet (n = 18). adult females of this species traveled 155.71 feet between captures (n = 35), while young females traveled 140.66 feet (n = 15). the means were tested for differences in the distances traveled between young and adult males and between young and adult females of each species, as well as between males and between females of opposite species. in all cases, there were no demonstrable differences in the distance traveled between captures. one of the more striking journeys between captures was that of number 59, a juvenal male of _p. maniculatus_, which traveled 1,070 feet between captures on july 16 and 17, 1963. the route between the two capture sites was over the most rugged part of the trapping grid. this datum was excluded from further calculations. the only other animal that approached this distance was a young female _p. truei_ that traveled 750 feet between captures. figure 3 shows the distribution of distances traveled by mice of each species between successive captures. since there were no demonstrable differences between age groups or sexes in the distances traveled, these data represent a composite of the ages and sexes of each species. they show 101-125 feet to be the most prevalent of the distances traveled by both species, and 51-75 feet to have a higher percentage of occurrence among _p. maniculatus_. these distances indicate that if an animal was trapped on successive nights, it tended to be trapped within the same unit of the grid. it would have been necessary for an animal to travel 200 feet or more in order to be caught in traps in an adjoining unit of the grid. the distance between captures also was calculated by the more customary method of averaging the distances between sites of capture, regardless of the time intervening between captures. only data from mice caught four or more times were used because these individuals probably had home ranges in the study area, whereas those caught fewer than four times may have been migrants. the mean distance between captures (n = 95) for 15 males and five females of _p. maniculatus_ was 161 feet. sixteen males and 22 females of _p. truei_ traveled an average of 143 feet between captures (n = 248). for purposes of comparison, these average distances between captures could be considered as radii of the estimated home ranges. when the range for each species is calculated by considering average distance between captures as the radius of the estimated home range, the average range of _p. truei_ is 64,210 square feet, and that of _p. maniculatus_ is 81,392 square feet. both of these estimations are larger than those made by the inclusive and exclusive boundary-strip method (table 3), and smaller than those calculated by using adjusted length of range as the radius. since it is known that ranges of some animals tend to be longer than wide (mohr and stumpf, 1966), calculations of estimated range based on average distance between captures probably are more accurate than those based on adjusted length of range. usually the estimated home ranges were not symmetrical, and did not resemble oblongs or circles in outline. rather, the ranges tended to follow parts of vegetational zones. since trapping grids are geometrical in form, there is a tendency among investigators to consider home ranges of animals as conforming to geometrical design. this may or may not be the true situation; telemetric studies on larger animals indicate that home ranges do not conform to geometrical design. at present there is a poverty of knowledge concerning methods for determining the precise home ranges of small mammals. telemetry appears to offer an unlimited potential for studies of this kind. [illustration: fig. 3: graphs showing the distribution of distances between stations at which mice were captured on successive nights in mesa verde national park. graphs for each species represent records of both males and females.] individuals of _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_ usually do not have mutually exclusive home ranges. when the home ranges for all females or males of one species are drawn on a single map of the trapping grid, almost every one of their ranges overlaps with the range of at least one other mouse. in some instances, the home range of an individual overlaps ranges of several other individuals. in extreme cases an animal's range lies completely within the estimated boundaries of another individual's range. such an enclosed range was always that of a juvenile or of a young animal. however, an adult may have more than half of its range overlapping with that of another adult of the same sex and of the same, or different, species. in general, the two species tended to be restricted to certain areas of the trapping grid where the respective habitats were more favorable for their needs. figure 4 shows the parts of the trapping grid utilized by each species. of course there is overlap in the areas utilized by each species; a few individuals of _p. maniculatus_ may be found in what appears to be _p. truei_ habitat, and _vice versa_. in such cases, an inspection of the vegetation usually reveals an intermediate type of habitat--for example, an open sagebrush area in pinyon-juniper woodland--that is habitable for either or both species. the ranges of _p. truei_ tend to be clustered in the western half of the trapping grid, whereas the ranges of _p. maniculatus_ are clustered in the eastern half of the grid (fig. 4). the vegetation of the grid and the preferred habitats of each species are discussed in following chapters. on the basis of the sizes of estimated home ranges, it is possible to compute the approximate number of individuals of each species that occur in each acre of appropriate habitat. [illustration: fig. 4: diagram of trapping grid south of far view ruins, showing the preferred habitats of _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_.] on the basis of an average home range of 30,206 â± 25,545 square feet (one standard deviation) for both male and female individuals of _p. truei_, there should be approximately 0.781 to 9.345 individuals of this species per acre of pinyon-juniper woodland. an average home range of 29,400 â± 24,570 square feet for males and females of _p. maniculatus_ indicates that the density of this species is between 0.807 and 9.018 animals per acre in mixed shrub or shrub and sagebrush types of vegetation. figure 4 shows that approximately 10 of the 16 units of the trapping grid are suitable habitat for _p. truei_; the remaining six units are habitat of _p. maniculatus_. from the preceding calculations of density one could expect to find between seven and 90 individuals of _p. truei_, and between five and 54 individuals of _p. maniculatus_ as residents within the 22.95 acres of the trapping grid. the higher estimates of density appear to be large enough to compensate for any overlapping of home ranges. the calculation of density of each species within the trapping grid is dependent upon the precision with which the home ranges of individuals can be estimated. at this time, home ranges of small rodents can not be measured with great precision, therefore any such calculations are, at best, only approximations. this does not imply that estimations of home range are of little value; however, calculations of density, using home ranges as a basis, tend to amplify the variance inherent in the data. this amplification is reflected in the wide range between low and high limits of the densities for each species within the trapping grid. in order to check on the accuracy of the above calculations, an estimate of density was made for each species on the basis of trapping data. trapping records kept for each animal were checked for the year 1963. more data on home ranges were obtained in that year due to higher population densities than in 1964. if an animal was caught four or more times in 1963, it was considered to be a resident; animals caught in both 1963 and 1964 were considered to be residents even if caught fewer than four times. mice caught three times, with at least a month elapsing between the first and third captures, were considered to be probable residents. other animals caught three or fewer times were considered to be migrants. in 1963, 15 individuals of _p. truei_ were caught four or more times, or in both years, and considered to be residents; six other mice were classed as probable residents. of _p. maniculatus_, 18 individuals were classed as residents, and two as probable residents. thus the trapping data for 1963 indicate that 21 individuals of _p. truei_ and 20 of _p. maniculatus_ were residents of the trapping grid. these estimates lie well within the estimated limits of density of each species, as calculated from data on home range while taking into account the relative proportions of available habitat for each species within the trapping grid. analyses of trapping data indicate that the density of each species probably is overestimated by calculations of density based on home range data. males and females of both species of _peromyscus_ appeared to be highly individualistic in the amount of area they utilized. some adult males of _p. truei_ covered large areas, whereas others were relatively sedentary. the same was true of young males of _p. truei_, although the younger males tended to have smaller ranges than adult males. most pregnant or lactating females, of both species, tended to use smaller areas for their daily activities than did non-pregnant or non-lactating females. there were notable exceptions to this generality, for some lactating females had exceptionally large home ranges. size of home range apparently was not influenced by the location of an animal's range within the grid. far more data would be needed to correlate minor differences in vegetational associations with sizes of ranges in different parts of the grid. it is surprising that adults of _p. truei_ do not have larger home ranges than adults of _p. maniculatus_. _p. truei_ is the larger, more robust animal, capable of rapid running and occasional saltatorial bounding; individuals of this species can traverse large areas with ease. the semi-arboreal nature of _p. truei_ may explain why individuals of this species do not have larger ranges than individuals of _p. maniculatus_. _p. truei_ has a three-dimensional home range, whereas _p. maniculatus_ has a range that is two-dimensional only (excluding the relatively minor amount of burrowing done by each species). vegetational analysis of habitats detailed maps of vegetation within the trapping grid were needed to aid in analyzing distribution of mice within the grid. in preparing such maps, i recorded all plants within a 25 foot radius of each trapping station. the dominant and codominant plants in the overstory (trees or shrubs) were noted at each station. next the three most abundant plants other than the dominant and codominants were rated for each station, where possible. finally a listing was made of all remaining species of plants. on the basis of this analysis, four vegetational maps were prepared. one shows associations of dominant overstory and understory plants. individual maps are devoted to the first, second and third most abundant plants in the ground cover within the trapping grid (figs. 5-8). approximately seven man-hours were required to analyze each trapping unit, and 112 man-hours to analyze the entire grid. the home range grid encompasses approximately one million square feet. at least four different vegetational stands occur within the grid: 1) pinyon-juniper woodland with various associations in the understory; 2) _artemisia tridentata_ (big sagebrush), or _a. nova_ (black sagebrush); 3) _quercus gambelii_ (gambel oak); and 4) mixed shrubs--_fendlera rupicola_ (fendlerbush), _amelanchier utahensis_ (utah serviceberry), and _cercocarpos montanus_ (mountain mahogany). flora in the ground cover is regulated, at least in part, by the canopy cover; hence different associations of pinyon-juniper woodland and each of the stands mentioned above have different plants, or a different distribution of the same kinds of plants, in their ground cover. units a, b, e, and parts of d and g in the western third of the grid are in pinyon-juniper woodland (fig. 5). a relatively pure understory of _poa fendleriana_ (muttongrass), is typical of such woodland on the middle parts of the mesas. woodland on the western third of the grid differs somewhat in that, when the area occupied by each plant is considered, _artemisia tridentata_ is codominant there with _poa fendleriana_. as far as individual plants are concerned, _poa_ far outnumbers _artemisia_. the next most abundant plants in the ground cover are _solidago petradoria_ (rock goldenrod), _chrysothamnus depressus_ (dwarf rabbitbrush), and _penstemon linarioides_ (penstemon), in that order. in unit e there is a large depression, about 200 by 60 feet, created by removal of soil (fig. 8). _artemisia nova_ grows there, and pioneering plants adapted to early stages of succession are present. a zone of woodland, where _artemisia nova_ replaces _a. tridentata_ as an understory codominant with _poa fendleriana_, borders the pinyon-juniper-muttongrass community to the east. the next most abundant plants in the ground cover are _solidago petradoria_, _penstemon linarioides_ and _comandra umbellata_ (bastard toadflax). _koeleria cristata_ (junegrass) is as abundant as _comandra_, but probably is less important as a source of food for mice. a small strip of the pinyon-juniper-muttongrass community with an understory of _artemisia nova_ and _purshia tridentata_ (bitterbrush) adjoins the above area to the east (figs. 5-8). _solidago petradoria_, _balsamorrhiza sagittata_ (balsamroot), and _comandra umbellata_ are the three most abundant plants in the ground cover. the terrain slopes eastward from this zone into a large drainage. [illustration: fig. 5: diagram showing the major associations of understory and overstory vegetation in a trapping grid located south of far view ruins, mesa verde national park, colorado.] as the forest floor begins to slope into the drainage, the ground becomes rocky and shrubs assume more importance in the understory. most of this shrubby zone is on the slope; on the western side this zone abuts pinyon-juniper woodland, and on the eastern side is bordered by _artemisia tridentata_ in the sandy bottom of the drainage. shrubs become more abundant and pinyon and juniper trees become less abundant as one approaches the drainage. in the vegetation maps, this brushy zone is delimited on the east by a heavy line passing vertically through the middle of the grid (figs. 5-8). the codominant shrubs in the understory of this zone are _amelanchier utahensis_, _artemisia nova_ and _purshia tridentata_. the three most abundant plants on the ground are _artemisia ludoviciana_, _chrysothamnus depressus_ and _penstemon linarioides_. the drainage occupies most of unit n and parts of units i, j and m. unit n is at the head of the drainage; the ground slopes rapidly southward and the bottom of the drainage in unit j is approximately 50 feet lower than in unit n. the canopy cover of the drainage is _artemisia tridentata_ (fig. 5). the same three plants that are most abundant in the ground cover of the slope are also most abundant in the drainage. [illustration: fig. 6: diagram showing the most abundant species of plants in the ground cover of the trapping grid south of far view ruins.] the eastern slope of the drainage is covered with oak chaparral (_quercus gambelii_); this zone occupies parts of units j, l, m, and p. _artemisia ludoviciana_, _solidago petradoria_, and _viguiera multiflora_ (goldeneye), are the most abundant plants of the ground cover. mixed shrubs (_amelanchier_, _cercocarpos_, and _fendlera_) form large islands in the oak chaparral, in units k, l and p. the brushy areas of oak and mixed shrub give way at the top of the slope to pinyon-juniper forest with an understory of _artemisia nova_ and _purshia tridentata_. the three most abundant plants in the ground cover of the shrub zones are _solidago petradoria_, _balsamorrhiza sagittata_, and _comandra umbellata_. the eastern part of unit o has _amelanchier utahensis_ in the understory, in addition to _artemisia nova_ and _purshia tridentata_ (fig. 5). the northeastern corner of unit o is in pinyon-juniper woodland with an understory of _cercocarpos montanus_. [illustration: fig. 7: diagram showing the second most abundant species of plants in the ground cover of the trapping grid south of far view ruins.] there are two relatively pure stands of sagebrush in the grid: one is in unit n, and the other in unit f and part of unit g. as figures 5 to 8 show, unit n has a relatively pure stand of _artemisia tridentata_ (big sagebrush), with _artemisia ludoviciana_, _agropyron smithii_ (western wheatgrass), and _koeleria cristata_ (junegrass), being most abundant in the ground cover. _artemisia tridentata_ and _artemisia nova_ form the overstory in unit f and part of g. the three most abundant plants in the ground cover there are _chrysothamnus depressus_, _solidago petradoria_, and _penstemon linarioides_ (figs. 6-8). [illustration: fig. 8: diagram showing the third most abundant species of plants in the ground cover of the trapping grid south of far view ruins.] microclimates of different habitats four microclimatic stations were established in units d, f, l and m of the trapping grid to record air temperatures and relative humidities at ground level. these sites were chosen as being representative of larger topographic or vegetational areas within the grid. belfort hygrothermographs were installed on june 10, 1964, and were serviced once each week through october 31, 1964, at which time the stations were dismantled. each station consisted of a shelter 18 by 9 by 11.5 inches, having a false top to minimize heating (fig. 9). the shelters were painted white. several rows of holes, each one inch in diameter, were drilled in all four sides of each shelter, to provide circulation of air. the holes were covered by brass window screening to prevent entry of insects and rodents. preliminary tests with several u. s. weather bureau maximum and minimum thermometers, suspended one above the other, from the top to the bottom of the shelter, revealed that there was no stratification of air within the shelters. nevertheless, each shelter was placed so that the sun did not strike the sensing elements of the hygrothermograph inside it. [illustration: fig. 9: (above) photograph of microclimatic shelter built to house hygrothermograph. false top minimizes heating, and ventilation holes are covered with screening. (below) photograph showing shelter in use.] accuracy of the hair elements was checked by means of a bendix-friez battery driven psychrometer, in periods when humidity conditions were stable (on clear days the relative humidity is at its lowest limits and is "stable" for several hours during early afternoon). the four microclimatic stations were in the following places: 1) a stand of big sagebrush near far view ruins; 2) a pinyon-juniper-muttongrass association; 3) a stand of big sagebrush at the head of a drainage; and 4) a stand of gambel oak on a southwest-facing slope of the drainage. table 4 shows monthly averages of maximum and minimum air temperatures and relative humidities at each of the four sites. vegetation and microclimates of the sites are discussed below. _far view sagebrush site, 7,650 feet elevation_ the shelter housing the hygrothermograph was next to the stake of station f4a in the trapping grid (fig. 10), in a stand of big sagebrush on the flat, middle part of the mesa top, approximately 100 yards southwest of far view ruins. the sagebrush extends approximately 200 feet in all directions from the station (fig. 5). pinyon pine and utah juniper trees are encroaching upon this area, and scattered trees are present throughout the sagebrush. this area is one of the habitats of _p. maniculatus_. sagebrush tends to provide less shade for the ground than pinyon-juniper woodland, and therefore the surface temperatures of the soil rise rapidly to their daily maximum. in mid-june, air temperatures rise rapidly from 6 a. m. until they reach the daily maximum between 2 and 4 p. m. shortly after 4 p. m. the air temperatures decrease rapidly and reach the daily low by about 5 a. m. relative humidities follow an inverse relationship to air temperatures; when air temperatures are highest, relative humidities approach their lowest values. thus, on clear days, humidities decrease during the day, reaching a minimum slightly later than air temperatures attain their maximum. unless it rains, the highest humidities of the day occur between midnight and 6 a. m. _drainage site, 7,625 feet elevation_ this site was in the bottom of the drainage that runs through the eastern side of the trapping grid, and through parts of units m, n, i, and j. the site was at station m4d on a level bench at the head of the drainage (fig. 11). southward from the station the drainage deepens rapidly, and the bottom loses approximately 25 feet in elevation for every 200 feet of linear distance. _p. maniculatus_ lives here. the microclimate of the drainage differs markedly from that of other stations. the major difference is attributable to the topography of the drainage itself. nocturnal cold air flows from the surrounding mesa top to lower elevations. a lake of cold air forms in the bottom of the drainage; the depth of the lake depends in part upon the depth of the drainage. the same phenomenon occurs in canyons and causes cooler night time temperatures on the floor of canyons than on adjacent mesa tops (erdman, douglas, and marr, in press). drainage of cold air into lower elevations affects both nocturnal air temperatures and relative humidities. table 4 shows that maximum air temperatures in the drainage did not differ appreciably from those at other stations. mean minimum temperatures, however, were considerably lower in the drainage than at the other sites. this phenomenon is reflected also in the mean air temperatures at this station. [illustration: fig. 10: (above) photograph of microclimatic station at the far view sagebrush site, at trapping station f4a in the grid south of far view ruins. dominant vegetation is _artemisia tridentata_.] [illustration: fig. 11: (below) photograph of microclimatic station at the drainage site, in the bottom of a shallow drainage at trapping station m4d of the grid south of far view ruins.] the drainage site had the highest humidities of all stations each month in which data were collected (table 4). relative humidities of 90 to 100 per cent were common in the drainage, but occurred at other stations only in rainy periods. for example, in the month of august, 26 of the daily maximum readings were between 95 and 100 per cent at the drainage site, but at the other stations relative humidities were above 95 per cent for an average of only nine nights. minimum humidities were about the same for all stations, since they are affected by insolation received during the day, and not by the drainage of cold air at night. _oak brush site, 7,640 feet elevation_ the station was in an oak thicket at trapping station l4a, 250 feet south and 50 feet east of the drainage site on a southwest-facing slope of about 30 degrees (fig. 12). the station was on the lower third of the slope, approximately 15 feet higher than m4d, the station in the bottom of the drainage. _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_ occur together in this area. air temperatures and relative humidities at this station did not differ appreciably from mean temperatures and humidities at the other stations. the unusual feature is the lack of evidence of cold air drainage. the lake of cold air in the bottom of the drainage apparently is too shallow to reach this station. this site is near the head of the drainage, and the cold, nocturnal air probably moves rapidly down slope into the deeper parts of the canyon, rather than piling up at the shallow head of the drainage. in spite of the shade afforded the ground by the oak brush, temperatures reached the same maximum values as at the drainage site, owing to the orientation of the slope. south-facing slopes receive more direct insolation throughout the day and throughout the year than north-facing slopes and mesa tops (geiger, 1965:374). in mesa verde, south-facing slopes tend to be more arid; snow melts rapidly, and most of this moisture evaporates. as a consequence, south-facing slopes have less soil moisture and more widely-distributed vegetation than north-facing slopes where snows often persist all winter and melt in spring. (for a detailed discussion of climates on northeast-versus-southwest-facing slopes in mesa verde, see erdman, douglas, and marr, in press.) _pinyon-juniper-muttongrass site, 7,600 feet elevation_ the station was in the trapping grid at d5b (fig. 13). the pinyon-juniper woodland surrounding this site resembles much of the woodland on the middle part of the mesa. the forest floor is well shaded by the coniferous canopy, and muttongrass is the dominant plant in the ground cover. _p. truei_ lives in this habitat. the climate at this site is moderate. shade from the canopy greatly moderates the maximum air temperatures during the day; minimum air temperatures, however, are about the same as at the other stations (table 4). mean temperatures are somewhat lower at this site than at the others because of the lower maximum temperatures. relative humidities do not differ markedly from those at other stations. figure 14 shows hygrothermograph traces at all stations for a typical week. an interesting phenomenon is illustrated by several of these traces. by about midnight, air temperatures have cooled to within a few degrees of their nightly low. at this time, heat is given up by the surface of the ground in sufficient quantities to elevate the air temperature at ground level. this release of reradiated energy lasts from one to several hours, then air temperatures drop to the nightly low just before sunrise. a depression in the percentage of relative humidity accompanies this surge of warmer air. on some nights winds apparently disturb, or mix, the layers of air at ground level. on such nights the reradiation of energy is not apparent in the traces of the thermographs. reradiation of energy is restricted to ground level, and traces of hygrothermographs in standard weather bureau shelters, approximately four feet above the ground surface, at other sites on the mesa top did not record it. [illustration: fig. 12: (left) photograph of microclimatic station at the oak brush site, at trapping station l4a of the grid south of far view ruins. (right) general view of the stand of gambel oak in unit l of the trapping grid.] [illustration: fig. 13: photograph of microclimatic station at the pinyon-juniper-muttongrass site, at trapping station d5b of the grid south of far view ruins. grass in the foreground is muttongrass, _poa fendleriana_.] the instruments used in this study were unmodified belfort hygrothermographs containing as sensing units a hair element for relative humidity and a bourdon tube for air temperatures. the hair element, especially, does not register changes in humidity at precisely ground level; rather, it reflects changes in the layer of air from about ground level to about a foot above. thus data from these instruments give only approximations of the conditions under which mice live while they are on the ground. climatic conditions greatly influence trapping success. larger numbers of mice generally were caught on nights when humidities were higher than average. rain in part of the evening almost invariably resulted in more mice of each species being caught. this was probably due to increased metabolism, by the mice, to keep warm. apparently the mice began foraging as soon as the rains subsided; mice were always dry when caught after a rain. few mice were caught if rains continued throughout the night and into the daylight hours. table 4--monthly averages of daily means for maximum, minimum, and mean air temperatures and relative humidities at four sites in mesa verde national park, colorado. ===================+========================+======================== site | maximum temps. | maximum r. h. | j j a s o | j j a s o | | far view sagebrush | 89 91 86 77 74 | 68 84 82 88 71 drainage | 86 91 85 78 78 | 87 94 93 96 84 oak brush | 86 88 82 76 81 | 57 78 80 80 66 pinyon-juniper-poa | 75 80 74 66 64 | 59 83 82 88 58 | | | minimum temps. | minimum r. h. | j j a s o | j j a s o | | far view sagebrush | 42 53 50 42 31 | 18 24 25 29 21 drainage | 36 48 45 38 26 | 21 26 27 29 30 oak brush | 42 52 50 42 32 | 19 25 30 31 21 pinyon-juniper-poa | 44 54 50 42 34 | 22 30 29 32 25 | | | mean temps. | mean r. h. | j j a s o | j j a s o | | far view sagebrush | 66 72 68 60 52 | 43 54 54 48 46 drainage | 61 70 65 58 52 | 54 60 60 62 52 oak brush | 64 70 66 59 56 | 38 51 55 56 44 pinyon-juniper-poa | 60 67 62 54 49 | 41 56 55 60 42 -------------------+------------------------+----------------------- [illustration: fig. 14: diagram of hygrothermograph traces showing daily progressions of air temperatures and relative humidities at each of four microclimatic stations, from the morning of july 1 through the morning of july 8, 1964. slanting vertical lines on each chart designate midnight (2400 hrs.) of each day.] nights of high trapping success usually were associated with days having solar insolation below the average. insolation was measured with a recording pyrheliometer at a regional weather station (m-2) on the middle of chapin mesa, at an elevation of 7,150 feet (erdman, douglas, and marr, in press). this station was approximately one mile south of the trapping grid; isolation at this site would have been essentially the same as that received by the trapping grid. below-average isolation for one day indicates cloudy conditions, which are accompanied by increased humidity, but may or may not be accompanied by precipitation. trapping on nights preceded and followed by days of average or above average isolation with average humidities--indicative of clear days and clear moonlit nights--did not yield appreciably higher catches of mice than other nights. hence there was no evidence that mice tended to avoid, or to seek out, traps on clear moonlit nights. on cold, humid nights in autumn numerous mice caught in sherman live traps succumbed from exposure, even though nesting material (kapok or cotton) and food were in the traps. occasionally mice succumbed to heat when traps were inadvertently exposed to too much sunlight. apparently little heat is required to kill individuals of either species. traps in which animals died due to excessive heat usually were not hot to the touch; in most instances the traps were checked before 9:00 a. m., several hours before the sun caused maximum heating. such individuals may have licked the fur of their chests in an attempt to lower their body temperatures. although mice characteristically salivate before succumbing from heat, these individuals had moist fur over the entire chest and upper parts of the front legs, indicating licking. mice killed by exposure to heat or cold usually were juveniles or young; subadult and adult individuals of both species were more tolerant. older animals would be expected to have better homeostatic controls than younger individuals. habitat preference in mesa verde _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_ occur together only at the fringes of the pinyon-juniper woodland, where ecotonal areas provide less than optimum habitats for both species. almost all individuals of _p. truei_ occur only in pinyon-juniper woodland, whereas _p. maniculatus_ occurs only in more open habitats, such as grassy meadows and stands of sagebrush. pinyon mice were abundant in a variety of associations within the pinyon-juniper woodland. the highest population densities were in pinyon-juniper woodland having an understory of mixed shrubs. in such an association, _poa fendleriana_ usually is the dominant grass in the ground cover. _p. truei_ was especially abundant along brushy slopes where mixed shrubs (_amelanchier_, _cercocarpos_ and _fendlera_) were codominant with pinyon pines and utah junipers. the pinyon-juniper-mixed shrub area west of far view ruins was almost optimum habitat for _p. truei_. _p. truei_ was abundant on the rocky ridge of wetherill mesa near mug house; the pinyon-juniper woodland here has a _cercocarpos_ understory, and appears to provide close to optimum conditions for this species. not all associations of the pinyon-juniper woodland support large numbers of _p. truei_. pinyon-juniper woodland having a ground cover of _poa fendleriana_, and no shrubs, supports few mice; the woodland on wetherill mesa near long house is an example. juniper-pinyon woodland having a _purshia tridentata_ understory also supports only a few mice. such areas occur on the southern ends of the mesas and are characterized by widely-spaced trees and little ground cover--a reflection of the relatively low amounts of precipitation received by the southern end of the park. _p. truei_ was not found in grasslands on navajo hill, or in meadows at the southern end of moccasin mesa. the old burned areas on the northern end of wetherill mesa and on morfield ridge now support numerous grasses and shrubs, but _p. truei_ appears not to live there. _p. truei_ tends to avoid stands of sagebrush, or grasslands, lacking pinyon or juniper trees. _p. truei_ may venture into such areas while feeding. this species is found in thickets of gambel oak and in areas with an overstory of mixed shrubs only when a living pinyon-juniper canopy is present, or when a woodland adjoins these areas. rocky terrain apparently is not a requirement for _p. truei_, since much of the pinyon-juniper woodland that is free of rocks supports large numbers. optimum habitat, however, had a rocky floor. in such places, rocks probably are of secondary importance, whereas the shrubs and other plants growing on rocky soils are important for food and cover. rocks likely provide additional nesting sites, and allow a larger population to live in an area than might otherwise be possible. in mesa verde the deer mouse, _p. maniculatus_, prefers open areas having dense stands of grasses, or brushy areas adjoining open terrain. this species lives in stands of big sagebrush; in grassy areas having an oak-chaparral or mixed-shrub-overstory; and in grasslands without shrubs, such as on the southern end of moccasin mesa. pure stands of sagebrush did not support large numbers of mice unless there was additional cover nearby in the form of shrubs or oak brush. optimum habitats for _p. maniculatus_ were on navajo hill, in the burned areas on morfield ridge, on the northern end of wetherill mesa, and in the grassy areas near the entrance of the park. the trapping areas in the first three mentioned had heavy growths of grass and an overstory of shrubs. some individuals of _p. maniculatus_ ventured into pinyon-juniper woodland and entered traps. such animals usually were found in places having a heavy understory of sagebrush, or in disturbed places within the woodland. _p. maniculatus_, but not _p. truei_, was taken in the arid pinyon-juniper-bitterbrush stand on the southern end of wetherill mesa. _p. maniculatus_ also was present, in about equal numbers with _p. truei_, in a pinyon-juniper-muttongrass stand north of long house. both of these localities supported only a few mice. _p. maniculatus_ is found more frequently in pinyon-juniper woodland when the population density is high, and when such woodlands adjoin grasslands or sagebrush areas. as mentioned earlier, _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_ occur together in ecotonal areas between the forest and grassy or brushy areas. in mesa verde the deer mouse inhabits exposed grassy areas that have mostly shrubs in the open canopy. _p. maniculatus_ is the first to colonize areas that have been burned; this species invades such areas as soon as primary successional vegetation becomes established. it can be stated that in general, _p. maniculatus_ will be found in the harsher, more arid habitats. if the habitat is so inhospitable that only a few mice can survive there, _p. maniculatus_ will be present. _p. truei_ apparently requires the more moderate conditions found in the pinyon-juniper forest, and this species does not venture far from the edge of the forest. nesting and nest construction ten individuals of _p. truei_ and three of _p. maniculatus_ were followed to their nesting places. photographs were taken of the nesting sites before and after uncovering. plants or other materials used in their construction and any commensal arthropods present were saved and later identified. nests of _p. truei_ usually were associated with juniper trees. dead branches and trunks of juniper trees decay from the inside, and the resulting hollows are favored sites for the nests. pinyon pine trees tend to decay from the outside and were not used as nesting sites by _p. truei_. nests of _p. truei_ were found in hollow trunks and branches of otherwise healthy juniper trees, and in hollow logs lying on the ground. the heartwood apparently rots rapidly in juniper trees, but the sapwood remains intact for many years--even after the tree is lying on the ground. for example, a part of the pinyon-juniper woodland on the southern end of chapin mesa was burned in 1858, and the hollow trunks of junipers were still standing in 1966. almost all of the pinyon pine trees that were killed by that fire have since decayed; their former presence is verified only by the crumbling remnants of their trunks that lie on the ground throughout the burned area. the following accounts illustrate the preferences of the two species of mice in selection of nesting sites: no. 105, _p. truei_, adult. on july 22, 1964, after being released from a trap, this female ran to a serviceberry bush 10 feet south of station i4d, preened herself, ate a berry from the bush, and disappeared under a large rock at the base of the bush. subsequent excavation revealed a large nest composed of grasses (_poa fendleriana_, _sitanion hystrix_, _agropyron smithii_, _koeleria cristata_), and a few leaves of serviceberry. there were three entrances to the nest, one on each side of the rock. this mouse was captured again on august 12, 1964, released and followed to a hollow juniper log 15 feet south of station c7b, and 245 feet from the above nest. this log was dismantled, but no nest was found. a large number of chewed juniper seeds around the log indicated that this mouse, or others, had frequented the area. on august 20, 1964, this female was followed to a large juniper log 20 feet northeast of station i4b. a small nest of shredded juniper bark was found inside the log, and there were numerous nuts of pinyon pine and seeds of utah juniper that had been gnawed open. this site was about 320 feet from that at c7b, and about 240 feet from station i4d (fig. 15). no. 118, _p. truei_, young. on august 29, 1963, this male ran into a hollow branch of a partly dead juniper tree 15 feet south of station c5d. part of this branch had been sawed off at some earlier time, and a hole about one-and-a-half inches in diameter was present in the center of the remaining part. the branch was not dissected, but probing revealed that the hole extended far into the branch and enlarged as it approached the trunk. no. 177, _p. truei_, adult. this lactating female ran into the hollow trunk of a juniper 10 feet north of station g7a. both lateral branches of the main trunk were rotten and hollow, but the tree appeared to be healthy. chewed juniper seeds were present in the trunks and around the base of the tree. this female later ran to a juniper log 30 feet north of station n4d. apparently there was no permanent nest at this site (fig. 15). no. 178, _p. truei_, adult. this female ran into a hollow juniper tree 10 feet south of station h3c. hundreds of old juniper seeds, with their embryos chewed out, were present at the base of the tree. the tree was not cut down. no. 238, _p. truei_, adult. this male ran into a dead juniper log 10 feet south of station o4b. chewed juniper seeds were present on the ground, but no nest was found in the log. [illustration: fig. 15: diagrams showing estimated home ranges of six individuals of two species of _peromyscus_, and location of these ranges in the trapping grid. nesting or hiding places are described in the text, and are indicated on each diagram by an x. shaded areas represent home ranges estimated from trapping records for 1963; outlined, unshaded areas represent estimated home ranges for 1964.] no. 241, _p. truei_, adult. this male ran into a small hole at the base of a juniper tree 25 feet south of station g7c. the hole was at the fork of the tree, four inches above the ground, and led to a large subterranean chamber in the basal part of the trunk. this male later ran into a dead juniper log lying on the ground 20 feet southwest of station n3b. no nest was found in the log. after another capture, this mouse ran to a small juniper log 40 feet southeast of station g3d. there was a nest of shredded juniper bark and many juniper seeds inside the log (figs. 15-17). no. 245, _p. truei_, adult. this female ran into a large, hollow juniper log 20 feet northwest of station d4d. no nest was seen, but chewed juniper seeds were noted in and around the log (fig. 15). no. 251, _p. truei_, juvenile. this female ran into a dead juniper log beside station p4b. chewed cones of pinyon pine and chewed juniper seeds were on the ground. a small nest of shredded juniper bark, and a few leaves of serviceberry, were found inside the log. chewed pinyon nuts and juniper seeds also were present in the nest. [illustration: fig. 16: (above) photograph of juniper log at station g3d, which contained the nest of _p. truei_ # 241.] [illustration: fig. 17: (below) photograph of dissected juniper log at station g3d, showing the nest of _p. truei_ # 241, at end of mattock handle. the nest of shredded juniper bark contained chewed seeds of juniper trees.] no. 267, _p. truei_, juvenile. this male ran into a fallen juniper log 40 feet southwest of station p7a and then disappeared into a hole leading under an adjacent rock. dissection of the log revealed many chewed juniper seeds inside and beneath the log, but no nest. i did not overturn the large rock or excavate under it. no. 268, _p. truei_, adult. this pregnant and lactating female ran into a hollow branch of a partly-dead juniper tree 10 feet south of station o7d. the limb and base of the tree were hollow, and there were large numbers of chewed juniper seeds nearby. because of time limitations, the branch was not dissected. no. 74, _p. maniculatus_, juvenile. this female ran into a small circular hole in the ground 13 feet north of station j3a. excavation revealed that this hole led into the abandoned tunnel of a pocket gopher (_thomomys bottae_). the tunnel was followed for about four feet, but no nest was found and the tunnel led under a thicket of oak brush which made further excavation impractical (fig. 15). no. 247, _p. maniculatus_, adult. this male was followed to a large nest situated at the base of a stump and under a juniper log lying beside the stump, five feet from station i2c. this large nest was built on the ground and was constructed of grasses (_poa fendleriana_, _stipa comata_, and _koeleria cristata_), and contained a few leaves of gambel oak. it was the largest nest found. chewed pinyon nuts were in the nest. (fig. 15). no. 276, _p. maniculatus_, juvenile. this male ran into a small hole at the base of a dead juniper tree 40 feet north of station o2c. it would have been necessary to cut the tree down to uncover the nest, and this was not deemed to be worthwhile. the preceding accounts indicate that, in mesa verde, nests of _p. truei_ usually are associated with hollow juniper logs or branches. in one instance a nest of _p. truei_ was found on the ground, under a rock. shredded juniper bark, and, in one case, grasses were the materials most commonly used for nest building. individuals of _p. maniculatus_ did not build nests in trees. one nest was found under a stump and adjacent log. another site was in the abandoned tunnel of a pocket gopher, and a third was under a large rock. the only nest that was unquestionably built by a _p. maniculatus_ was constructed of grasses and a few leaves. it seems unlikely that competition for nesting sites between the two species of _peromyscus_ affects the local distribution of each species. the analysis of nesting sites suggests that _p. truei_ is restricted, in mesa verde, by the availability of fallen logs, hollow branches, or hollow trunks of juniper trees. my observations lead me to think that within the pinyon-juniper woodland there is a surplus of nesting sites for individuals of _p. truei_. many juniper trees have dead branches, and hollow juniper logs are abundant throughout the forest. it is inconceivable to me that the population of _p. truei_ could reach densities sufficient to saturate every nesting site available to them in the trapping grid. sagebrush areas, or brushy zones adjacent to the pinyon-juniper woodland usually do not contain juniper logs; when hollow juniper trees or logs are not available, _p. truei_ is not found as resident of such areas. as mentioned earlier, individuals of _p. truei_ may venture into such areas to feed if they are adjacent to pinyon-juniper woodland. an individual of _p. truei_ may have more than one nest within its home range (for example nos. 105 and 241 cited above). each mouse probably has refuges, each containing a nest, strategically located in its home range. thus, if a mouse is chased by a predator, or by another mouse, it need not return to its main nest, but can seek refuge in one of its secondary nests. these secondary nests were small and were invariably constructed from shredded juniper bark. some of these nests were little more than a scant handful of shredded bark that formed a platform to sit upon. other nests were larger and ball-shaped, with one opening on the side. all of the secondary nests that were found were inside hollow juniper logs. the bark used in construction of the nests had, in each case, been transported from nearby living trees. the logs had previously lost their bark through decay. the evidence indicates that these secondary refuges are prepared with considerable care. not only is the bark transported for some distance, but it is shredded into a soft mass of fibers. when a mouse first establishes itself in a new area, perhaps it begins several such nests before settling upon the most favorable site. the less desirable sites, if still within the animal's range, are then available (barring competition by a new inhabitant) for outlying refuges. my data do not indicate whether individuals of _p. maniculatus_ use a similar arrangement of nests within their home ranges. the population of _p. maniculatus_ was sparse in the trapping grid, and the habitat these mice occupied was such as to make following them extremely difficult. in captivity, both species constructed nests that were indistinguishable to me, when the mice were given cotton, kapok, or pieces of burlap as building material. the cotton or kapok was used directly, but the burlap was shredded into a fine mass of fluffy fibers. the burlap seemed to me to be the best building material, for it maintained its shape best. both species constructed nests that resembled inverted bowls. solitary mice naturally built smaller nests than those built by females with young. the entrance to the closed nests varied; often the female would bolt through the side of the nest where there was no opening. sometimes the mice would exit and enter through the top of the nest. in some cases it appeared that the entire nest was closed; probably the occupant had closed the entrance. such a closed nest would have the advantage of greatly moderating the microenvironment within the nest, and would allow the animal within to remain comfortable with a minimum expenditure of energy. the larger nests found in the trapping grid resembled those built by captives. nests built of grasses were always larger than those built of juniper bark. juniper bark is as easily worked into nests as are grasses, in my judgment. therefore, difficulty of construction of nests from this material probably does not account for the smaller size of the nests composed of bark. i think the difference in insulating characteristics between the two materials probably accounts for the difference in size of the nests. reproduction in mesa verde, _peromyscus_ reproduces from april through september. reproduction is greatly reduced in the autumn, and most females complete reproduction before october. ten of the 20 females of _p. maniculatus_, taken in may, contained embryos; five others were lactating. lactating and pregnant females were collected on may 5, 1962, indicating that reproduction in some females began in early april. in september, 15 of 34 females were pregnant or lactating, whereas in october only two out of 15 females of _p. maniculatus_ were reproducing. only one female of _p. maniculatus_ was found to contain embryos in october. this large adult was taken on october 3, 1963, and had six embryos, each five millimeters long. she probably would have produced a litter later in october, and would have been nursing into november. a report of october breeding in north-central colorado described nine of 23 females of _p. maniculatus_ as being in a reproductive state; seven were lactating and one was pregnant between october 26 and 31, 1952 (beidleman, 1954:118). in the museum of natural history, the university of kansas, there are 35 females of _p. maniculatus_ more than 144 millimeters in total length taken from mesa verde in november, 1957 (anderson, 1961:53). none of these contained embryos, and no pregnant females have been taken from the park in november. _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_ reproduce at about the same time. a female of _p. truei_ prepared as a specimen on may 10, 1964, contained four embryos, each 20 millimeters long, indicating a breeding time in mid-april. svihla (1932:19) reported the gestation period for non-lactating _p. truei_ to be 25 to 27 days and for lactating individuals, 40 days. lactation tends to increase the gestation period of other _peromyscus_ by about five days (asdell, 1964:266). the gestation period of nine non-lactating females of _p. m. rufinus_ was reported by svihla to be 23 to 24 days. lactation increased the length of the period of gestation in this subspecies to between 23 and 32 days (mean for seven females 26.57 â± 0.73, svihla, 1932:19). females of _p. truei_ were observed in various stages of reproduction from june through september. ten of the 20 females of _p. truei_ taken in september were reproducing; four contained embryos and the other six were lactating. in october, only one of 17 females caught in snap traps was lactating. lactating females were caught in live-traps as late as october 23, although most females had ceased reproduction by then. no pregnant or lactating females were observed in november. in _p. maniculatus_, puberty has been placed at 32 to 35 days for females weighing 13 grams, and in males at from 40 to 45 days, at weights of 15 to 16 grams (jameson, 1953:45). in _p. truei_, the weight of the testes is reported to rise in march and diminish through september, with accessory organs following the same cycle (asdell, 1964:267). young of _p. truei_ nurse for about one month, although some litters may not be weaned until 40 days of age. young of _p. maniculatus_ are weaned between 22 and 37 days of age (svihla, 1932:30). twenty-six pregnant females of _p. maniculatus_, taken in the breeding seasons of 1961-1964, contained from one to eight embryos each; the mean was 4.65 â± 1.67. other investigators have found similar mean values in this species (asdell, 1964:266). thirteen females of _p. truei_ taken in the breeding seasons of 1961-1964, contained from three to six embryos each; the mean was 4.0 â± .912. svihla (1932:25) reported litter sizes, at birth, of two to five and a mean of 2.84, in 19 litters. other investigators have reported litter sizes of one to five with a mean of 3.4, and one to six with a mean of 3.6 (asdell, 1964:268). apparently _p. truei_ does not have more than six young per litter. in captivity, females of both species began reproduction in early february. these captives had been kept for several months at a temperature of 21 degrees centigrade, and on a daily photoperiod of 15 hours. some captive males had enlarged, scrotal testes in january; the extended photoperiod and warm temperature probably influenced the breeding condition. in both species testes of wild males caught in autumn after late september and on through the winter were abdominal, except for one male of _p. maniculatus_ which had enlarged, scrotal testes on october 15. dates at which different animals arrived at breeding condition varied, in part owing to subadults (young of the year) appearing in the catch from early summer to late autumn. some adult females appeared to be pregnant or lactating throughout much of the summer and early autumn, whereas other females, that were caught a number of times, apparently reproduced only once in the summer. some females may fail to breed even though they are mature enough to do so. one female of _p. truei_ captured eight times (august 30 to september 20) was a juvenile when first caught, and was classed as young (in postjuvenal molt) on september 10. she did not reproduce in her first breeding season, unless she did so after september 20, which is unlikely. another female of _p. truei_ was an adult when first caught, and was caught 12 times (august 21 to october 25). at no time were her mammae enlarged and she was not lactating or pregnant. it is improbable that she reproduced earlier in the season, for teats of mice that have reproduced earlier usually are enlarged to such a degree that previous parturition is clearly indicated. it was surprising to catch a female, of any age, 12 times in two months without sign of reproductive activity. only one female of _p. maniculatus_ did not show reproductive activity. she was a juvenile on july 19 when first caught; a subadult on august 28 when caught the third time, and an adult on october 23 when caught the fifth time. burt reported a rest period of a month or more in the summer, in michigan, during which many females of _p. leucopus_ did not reproduce. they began to breed again in late summer at about the time when young of the year began reproducing (burt, 1940:17, 19). abundant mast was correlated with reproductivity in autumn, according to jameson (1953:54), who thought that "food is a basic determinant of the autumn reproduction" of _p. leucopus_. little has been written about the length of time males remain in breeding condition. difficulties in determining breeding condition are many. fertility customarily is determined by sectioning testes and noting the presence or absence, and relative abundance, of sperm. this procedure necessarily sacrifices the individual and indicates the breeding condition at only one moment and for only the individuals sacrificed. my observations of males caught a number of times in live traps shed some light on the breeding condition of males, but the investigator is likely to err in extrapolating physiological data from morphology when he notes whether the testes are abdominal or scrotal and whether they are enlarged or small. it was assumed that testes that have not descended, and that lie within the abdominal cavity, are not capable of producing viable sperm. this is the condition in most juveniles, and in all males during winter. as the breeding condition is attained, testes descend into the scrotum. soon the testes and their accessory organs enlarge and are readily apparent. howard (1950:320) reported that numerous males of _p. leucopus_ sired litters when their testes appeared to be abdominal, and therefore questioned whether the criterion of descended testes is valid as an indicator of breeding condition. my captive males of _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ did not sire litters when their testes were abdominal, even though such males were left with adult females for as long as four to five months (august through december). captive pairs of both species yielded no evidence of reproductive activity until january when, as mentioned earlier, some of the males had scrotal testes. young were born first in early february, although their parents had been confined together since the preceding august. jameson reported the testes of fecund males of _p. maniculatus_ as almost always 8.0 millimeters or larger (jameson, 1953:50). testes that are at least partly scrotal must be considered as being capable of producing motile sperm, even though this may not be the case for all individuals. toward the beginning and end of the breeding season the testes and accessory organs of wild mice were small and probably produced few if any sperm. at these times some males apparently were so frightened by being handled that the testes were retracted into the inguinal canals. it would have been easy to consider such males as having abdominal testes when in fact they did not. in such cases the scrotum usually was noticeably enlarged; it was found also that in many cases the testes returned to the scrotal position if the mouse was held gently for a few minutes. careful handling of animals was found to prevent, or at least retard, retraction of the testes. retraction of the testes from the scrotum was not a problem at the height of the breeding season when the testes were engorged. i had originally assumed that all adult males would be fertile throughout the breeding season, and that any males with abdominal testes would be subadults or young of the year. this assumption was an oversimplification; all adult males did not reach breeding condition at the same time of year. my data do not support a firm conclusion, for it is difficult to follow non-captive individuals throughout a breeding season, owing to sporadic appearance of animals in traps. nevertheless, observations of mice that were trapped a number of times indicated the following: 1) some adult males that had abdominal testes in the middle of july reached breeding condition as late as late august and even late september. 2) some juvenal males had scrotal testes at the time their postjuvenal molt was just beginning to be apparent on their sides. most juvenal males did not have scrotal testes, and many juveniles that appeared repeatedly in traps from mid-july through late october did not attain breeding condition. a mouse that was a juvenile in mid-july must have been born in mid-june. 3) apparently animals born early in the breeding season may reproduce later in that season, whereas those born later in the breeding season tend not to breed until the following year. possibly cooler evening temperatures in july and august, due to the relatively larger amounts of precipitation in those months, inhibit reproductive development of late-born young. most plants have ceased vegetative growth and have produced seeds by this time; but the interrelationships between growing seasons, climatic conditions, and reproductive physiology are unknown. only one adult of each species had scrotal testes after late september; the _p. truei_ had scrotal testes on october 24, 1963, and the _p. maniculatus_ had scrotal testes on october 15 of that year. growth growth of captive _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ is discussed in several reports. one of the most complete is that of mccabe and blanchard (1950) on _p. m. gambelii_ and _p. t. gilberti_ in california. a detailed discussion of the dentition in _p. truei_ and wear of the teeth in different age groups is given by hoffmeister (1951). molt in these species has been considered by a number of authors (collins, 1918; mccabe and blanchard, 1950; hoffmeister, 1951; anderson, 1961). the report by mccabe and blanchard is valuable because molt is compared between the two species from the first to the twenty-first week of postnatal development. [illustration: fig. 18: scatter diagram of postnatal growth of captive mice, showing increase in length of bodies from birth to 70 days of age. the records for _p. truei_ represent 11 individuals of five litters; those for _p. maniculatus_ represent 17 individuals of four litters.] the thoroughness of the above-mentioned studies is readily apparent to those who have worked with mice of the genus _peromyscus_. nevertheless, the ecology of local populations of _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ as reported for the san francisco bay area (mccabe and blanchard, 1950) has little relationship to the ecology of mice of other subspecies of these species, in southwestern colorado. indeed, the preferred habitats, and to some extent the behavior, differ strikingly in colorado and california. [illustration: fig. 19: graphs showing postnatal growth of solitary captive individuals of _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_, representing the only young in each of two litters.] figures 18 and 19 show that some litters grow appreciably faster than others, but the end results are about the same. since the young were measured at irregular intervals, statistical procedures for calculating confidence limits of the curves were not applicable. solitary young reared by one female of each species, attained maximum size more rapidly than animals having litter mates (fig. 19). nevertheless, solitary individuals and individuals from litters all reach essentially the same size 50 days after birth. the gestation time of _p. truei_ is several days longer than that of _p. maniculatus_, and the young of _truei_ are fewer and heavier than those of _maniculatus_. as would be expected, _truei_ remains in the nest longer and nurses longer than _maniculatus_. young of each species grow rapidly for the first month, and attain, in that time, the largest percentage of their adult size; they grow rapidly up to sometime between the thirtieth and fiftieth days. thereafter the rate of growth diminishes and the animals begin to gain weight rather than continuing to extend the lengths of the body and appendages. figure 19 reveals that the appendages of young _maniculatus_ attain most of their length about a week earlier than those of _truei_. young _truei_ acquire mobility and coordination somewhat later than young _maniculatus_, but both species are seemingly equal in these respects by about the end of the second week. length of gestation period, number and size of embryos, amount of time spent in the nest, and time required for bodily growth are all of major importance in determining the relative success of _truei_ and _maniculatus_. these parameters will be considered further in the discussion. parental behavior in the laboratory, pregnant females were supplied with either kapok, cotton, or a piece of burlap with which to make a nest. the kapok or cotton was used directly by the mice in constructing a hollow, compact, moundlike nest. when burlap was used for nest building, the female first completely frayed the cloth by chewing it into a fluffy mass of fibers. when the top of a nest was opened to inspect young, the female would attempt to pull the nesting material back into shape by means of forefeet and teeth. the mother's defensive posture was to cover the young with her body, often lying over them and facing upward, toward the investigator. in this semi-recumbent position, the female would attack the investigator's fingers with her forefeet and teeth. often the female would stand bipedally and use the forefeet and teeth to mount the attack. if at this time a young chanced to wander away from the mother, she would quickly pick it up and place it in the nest at her feet. when disturbed, females of both species, but especially _p. maniculatus_, often dove headlong under their nest or into the wood shavings on the floor of the cage. this type of retreat was most often used when young were nursing. time is required even by the mother to disengage nursing young, and this mode of escape is the most expedient. the mother disengaged nursing young by licking around their faces and pushing with her paws. nursing females of both species tolerated the male parent in the nest. a male and female often sat side by side in the nest and by means of their bodies participated in covering the young. males were not observed to attempt any defense of the nest, or of the young. females were tolerant of older young in the nest when another litter was born and was being nursed. in one nest, a female of _p. truei_ gave birth to a litter of three when her older litter was 29 days old. the three older young continued to nurse until they were 37 days old, at which time they were removed from the cage. the female appeared tolerant of this nursing by members of the older litter, but appeared to give preference to the wants of the younger offspring. one female of _p. truei_ lost or killed all but one young of her litter; at about the same time, a _p. maniculatus_ and all but one of her young inexplicably died. since the remaining young _maniculatus_, a male, was just weaned and was considered expendable, i placed him in the cage with the female _truei_ and her 33-day-old, male offspring. the reaction to the newcomer was unexpected. the female immediately covered the _p. maniculatus_ and her own young and prepared to defend them against me. later, when the _p. maniculatus_ was disturbed, he had only to emit a squeak and the female _truei_ would run to cover and protect him. when the young male of _p. truei_ was 69 days old the female kept him out of the nest, but still kept the male _maniculatus_ in the nest with her. although the female was somewhat antagonistic to her own young, she did not injure him, but only kept him out of the nest. the male _truei_ was left in the cage with his mother and the _p. maniculatus_ from september 23 to december 10. none of the mice had any apparent cuts on the ears or tail to indicate fighting. as much as seven months after the _p. maniculatus_ was introduced into the cage, the female _truei_ continued to cover him with her body whenever there was a disturbance. the male _maniculatus_ not only tolerated this attention, but ran under the female _truei_ when frightened. "adoption" of young of another species has been reported for a number of animals, but, without further evidence, it is not possible to postulate that such adoptions occur between species of _peromyscus_ in nature. young males are tolerated by their mothers after weaning. one young male _maniculatus_ was left in the cage with his mother from the time of his birth in autumn until late february of the following year. a litter was born on february 24. a young male _p. truei_ was also left in the cage with his mother until he had acquired most of his postjuvenal pelage; the female and male usually sat together in the cage. females of both species sometimes eat their young when the young die shortly after birth. one female of each species killed three of her four young, and ate their brains and viscera. in one of these cases, the female, of _p. maniculatus_, also died; the female of _p. truei_ was the same one that adopted the surviving _p. maniculatus_. the female _truei_ continued to nurse her one remaining young for at least several days after killing three of his litter mates. a reason for this cannibalism might have been that i had fed these mice for several weeks on a mixture of grains low in protein content. inadequacy of this diet for nursing females may have caused them to become cannibalistic. the feed of all captives was changed to purina laboratory chow after the young were killed. transportation of young females of both species transported their young either by dragging them collectively while the young were attached to mammae, or by carrying them one at a time in the mouth. since mice of the subgenus _peromyscus_ have three pairs of nipples, they probably transport only six young collectively. svihla (1932:13) has stated that both pectoral and inguinal teats are used in transporting young, in contrast to seton's reputed assertion that only inguinal nipples were used. but svihla neglected to cite seton's complete statement. seton (1920:137) recorded a litter of three as using only the inguinal mammae, but on the following page recorded the use of both inguinal and pectoral mammae by another litter of four. my findings agree with those of svihla. nursing females of both species were removed periodically from cages by lifting them by the tail. the young would hang onto the mammae and the female would clutch the young to her with all four feet. young two weeks old or older crawled behind the mother while nursing. the method of transporting young in the mouth has been mentioned by seton (1920:136) and described by lang (1925) and hall (1928:256). these authors report that the mother picks the young up in her paws, and places it ventral-side up in her mouth, with her incisors around it. the young are not picked up by the skin on the nape of the neck, as are the juveniles of dogs and cats. i have found that females of both species of _peromyscus_ carry their young ventral-side up in their mouth while the young are small, and sometimes when the young are older. generally, when females of _p. truei_ moved young weighing more than 10 grams, the female grasped the young from the dorsal side, across the thorax just posterior to the shoulders, and held them with the incisors more or less around the animal. perhaps this method was used with older young because of the observed tendency of the larger young to resist being turned over and grasped from the ventral side, and because their increased weight would have made it difficult, if not impossible, for the mother to pick them up with her paws. the young rarely resisted the efforts of the mother to move them by this method; when grasped across the thorax by the mother, the young would remain limp until released. some females of _p. truei_ would drag almost fully grown young back into the nest in this manner. i have not observed older young of a comparable age to be moved by females of _p. maniculatus_. the females of _p. maniculatus_ appear to be somewhat less concerned than those of _p. truei_ for the welfare of their young once they are mobile and close to being weaned. the following listing describes changes in postnatal development of young, of each species, from birth to nine weeks of age. _p. maniculatus_ _p. truei_ ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ first week: at birth, young are | at birth, young are helpless, red helpless, red overall, small | overall, smaller than _p. truei_, with wrinkled skin. pinna of ear | skin wrinkled. ear, eyes, and folded over and closed; eyes | digits as in _p. truei_. closed; digits not separated | from rest of foot. | | redness diminished by fourth day. | redness decreases and disappears by | fourth day. | hair apparent by fifth day; | hair apparent by fourth day; body dorsal one-half or two-thirds of | bicolored by end of week. body more darkly pigmented than | venter by fourth day. | | young squeak loudly and suck; | young squeak loudly; sucking more sometimes crawl, but drag hind | pronounced than in _p. truei_; may legs. | crawl, but drag hind legs. ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ | second week: appreciable increase | as in _p. truei_. in size; head about 60 percent | larger than at birth, by 14th | day, and still large in | proportion to body. | | toes on hind foot separated more | as in _p. truei_, but somewhat more from foot. | advanced. | body well haired by end of week; | body well haired by end of week; dorsum dark gray, venter whitish; | dorsum dark gray with brownish tail bicolored in most, but not | tint; venter whitish; tail haired. | bicolored in most, but not haired. | pinna of ear unfolded and open by | as in _p. truei_, but development end of week. | somewhat more advanced. | through day 10, use hind legs to | crawl well by end of week; push, but by end of week use legs | difficult to hold, squirm but do to crawl; difficult to hold, | not bite; agile. squirm but do not bite. | | walk behind mother while nursing; | agile. | ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ | third week: eyes open on 16th to | eyes open on 16th to 20th day, 21st day. | partly open earlier. | gray pelage of dorsum brownish. | pelage of dorsum brownish; molt apparently there is a molt line | line across shoulders progressing progressing posteriorly from | posteriorly; browner anterior to nose; the molt line has moved to | line, grayer posterior to it. shoulder region by end of week; | pelage anterior to line browner, | grayer posterior to it. | | tail haired and weakly bicolored | tail haired and bicolored in all in some individuals by end of | individuals. week. | | young walk and jump well; squirm | young walk and jump well; fight and but rarely bite. | bite when handled. ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ | fourth week: begin to eat solid | some young eat grain by 24th day; foods at 23-29 days, but also | others continue to nurse. nurse. | | molt line about 3/4 inch | juvenal pelage complete; no sign of posterior to head. juvenal pelage | postjuvenal molt. completed by end of week. some | young have brownish hair on front | legs. | | young roll over on backs and use | as in _p. truei_; also, all jump feet to ward off litter mates | well, and fight fiercely when that are dropped into nest, or | handled. into container, with them. | ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ | fifth week: young weaned on 30th | all young weaned before or by end to 40th day; some nurse beyond | of week; none observed to nurse 30th day if female is lactating. | beyond 30th day, even if female is | lactating. | juvenal pelage complete and no | juvenal pelage complete; postjuvenal molt apparent on | postjuvenal pelage not apparent on dorsum. | most, but probably present on all, | and concealed under juvenal pelage. ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ | sixth week: postjuvenal pelage | postjuvenal molt apparent in most apparent in most individuals | young; almost complete in some, under juvenal pelage, especially | except above tail and on flanks. along lateral line. | ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ | seventh week: postjuvenal pelage | postjuvenal pelage apparent in all apparent in most young; in some | young; less distinct molt line than the molt line has progressed well | in _p. truei_. up on the sides, but not to | mid-dorsum. | ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ | eighth week: all individuals | growth completed in some growing; total lengths of 156-170 | individuals; those in larger millimeters; weight 17-22 grams. | litters have total lengths of | 128-144 millimeters; weight | 14-17 grams. ----------------------------------+------------------------------------ | ninth week: testes partly scrotal | scrotum in season usually large, in one male on 59th day. | vaginae open, evidence of coitus | common. (mccabe and blanchard, | 1950:39). | new brown pelage encroaching on | postjuvenal molt completed in some saddle and on hind legs; | individuals by end of week. new postjuvenal molt completed in | pelage tends to be concealed under some individuals by eleventh | juvenal pelage longer than in _p. week. | truei_. ----------------------------------+------------------------------------changes owing to increase in age increase in length of limb bones, changes in proportion of bones in the skull, eruption and degree of wear of teeth, and changes in pelage can be used to ascertain relative age. different investigators might choose different limits for the three categories young, subadult, and adult. museum specimens were assigned to one of five age groups listed below mostly on the basis of tooth wear, essentially as described by hoffmeister (1951:1). juvenile: m3 just breaking through bony covering of jaw or showing no wear whatsoever. young: m3 worn smooth except for labial cusps, and m1 and m2 showing little or no wear. subadult: m3 worn smooth; labial cusp may persist, but is well worn; m1 and m2 having lingual cusps worn, but not smooth; labial cusps showing little wear. adult: lingual cusps worn smooth and labial cusps showing considerable wear; labial cusp of m3 may persist. old: cusps worn smooth; not more than one re-entrant angle per tooth discernible, frequently none. for live animals examined in the field, criteria based on pelage and breeding condition were used, as follows: juvenile: only gray, juvenal pelage present. young: subadult pelage apparent on lateral line or on sides; body usually smaller than in adults. subadults: subadult pelage having mostly replaced juvenal pelage; mice often as large as adults; testes of males often abdominal in breeding season; gray juvenal pelage may persist on head of some individuals. adult: adult pelage present; body usually largest of all animals in population; females may have enlarged mammae from nursing previous litters; testes of males usually scrotal in breeding season; gray pelage may be present on head of some individuals. old individuals in the field could not be distinguished from adults; hence any animals that appeared older, or more developed, than subadults were classified as adults. in _p. truei_, subadult pelage appears first on the lateral line or on the flanks; new pelage is ochraceous and contrasts markedly with the gray juvenal coat. in _p. maniculatus_, the subadult pelage contrasts less with the juvenal coat; the new pelage progresses from anterior to posterior over the body in the same manner as in _truei_, but replaces the juvenal coat in a less distinct manner than in _truei_. as a result, contrast often is lacking between juvenal and subadult pelages in _maniculatus_ making it difficult to assign an individual to one of these two age categories when examined in the field. in museum specimens, the subadult pelage is much more noticeable because it can be compared with the pelages of other specimens. the subadult pelage in _p. maniculatus_ is duller than the adult pelage: in _p. truei_ the subadult and adult pelages appear to have an equal sheen. in early winter, the postjuvenal pelage acquired by young individuals of _p. truei_ was thick and luxuriant and indistinguishable from the winter pelage of adults. my observations lead me to conclude that individuals born late in the breeding season molt from juvenal summer pelage directly into winter adult pelage. technically, this new coat is the postjuvenal one, yet it cannot be distinguished as such after the molt is completed. anomalies and injuries anatomical anomalies were rare in the individuals of _peromyscus_ that i examined. when anomalies were found they were striking, principally because of their low rate of occurrence. one female of _p. truei_, born in captivity, had a congenital defect of the pinna of the right ear, noted on the fifteenth day after birth. closer examination then and later revealed that the pinna was normal in all respects except that the tip was missing. the tip showed no evidence of injury. when the mouse was subadult, this defective pinna was approximately half as long as the normal pinna. the topmost part of the defective pinna was somewhat more constricted in circumference than the normal one. on september 11, 1963, a subadult male of _p. truei_ was captured that had five functional toes on its right front foot, the only one of more than 175 individuals caught and handled in the field that exhibited polydactyly. the front foot was examined closely in the field, but it could not be determined how or where the extra bones of the sixth toe articulated. _peromyscus_ normally has four full-sized toes on each front foot, and a small inner toe hardly more than an enlarged tubercle, having no nail. a few mice of both species had broken toes or claws torn off. such injuries were more common on toes of the hind foot. in several instances the toes were shortened, as if by marking, although the animals concerned had been marked earlier by clipping toes other than the injured toes. the reason for these injuries is not apparent, although they could have been caused by fighting, or from having been caught in doors of sherman live traps. toes of several mice were swollen and inflamed due to small glochids of cacti that were stuck in them. apparently the mice had stepped on the glochids by chance, for i found no evidence that _peromyscus_ of either species eats cacti. one _p. truei_ had a broken tail; three other individuals had tails about one-half normal length. one _p. maniculatus_ had a shortened tail. some of these injuries probably were caused by the sherman live traps; several individuals of _p. truei_ were released after having been caught by the tail by the spring-loaded door of these traps. on october 17, 1963, an adult _p. truei_ had a bleeding penis; when this mouse was recaptured on october 25, the injury was healed. losses attributed to exposure in traps observations of wild mice caught in live traps suggest that metabolic maturity is reached later than physical and reproductive maturity. in such trapping, it became apparent that juvenal and young mice suffered from exposure to cold and to heat much more than did subadult or adult mice. although traps were carefully shaded and ample nesting material and food provided, some mice died in the traps. an overwhelming majority of these mice were juveniles and young. traps were checked in the morning, both in the summer and autumn, yet mice died in traps that were barely warm to the touch, in summer, and cool to the touch in autumn. older mice frequently were found in traps that were warm, or even hot, to the touch; yet the older mice rarely died in such traps. apparently the tolerance of adults is much greater to heating and chilling. greater bulk and perhaps longer pelage in adults might provide sufficiently better insulation to account for this difference. occasionally juvenal mice were found in traps in a sluggish and weakened condition, especially in autumn when nights were cool. in such cases the mice were either cupped in the hands and warmed until lively enough to fend for themselves, or, if especially weakened, were taken to the laboratory. none of such animals that were returned to the laboratory lived for more than two weeks. most of those released in the field did not reappear in the traps. i conclude that juvenal and young mice placed under stress by overheating or cooling die immediately or live only a few days. subadult and adult animals tolerate more extreme conditions of overheating or cooling, presumably because they are able to regulate their internal temperature better, by either losing or retaining heat more effectively. mice found dead in overheated traps had salivated heavily, and may also have licked the fur on their chests to increase heat dissipation. one such adult, of _p. truei_, had a wet chest when he was taken from a warm trap; when released, this mouse ran to a nearby plant of _comandra umbellata_, and ate a few of the succulent leaves before running off. this individual was trapped several times later in the summer, and apparently suffered no ill effects from the exposure. dental anomalies abnormalities in the formation and occlusion, or decay of teeth, are relatively rare in wild mammals. of all bodily structures, the teeth apparently are under the most rigid genetic controls; they form early in the embryo and follow rigidly specified patterns in their ontogeny. apparently any deviation from the normal pattern of tooth formation is quickly selected against. all specimens of _p. m. rufinus_ and _p. t. truei_ in the collection of the museum of natural history at the university of kansas, and in my collection, were examined for dental anomalies. a total of 317 specimens of _p. m. rufinus_ and 54 specimens of _p. t. truei_ were examined. the following specimens were found to have abnormalities: k. u. 69361, _p. maniculatus_, adult: small bundles of plant fibers are lodged between all upper teeth and have penetrated the maxilla anterior to the left m1. the maxillary bone is eroded away from the roots of all teeth. the anteriormost roots of both lower first molars are almost completely exposed, because the dentary has been abraded away. k. u. 76041, _p. maniculatus_, young: a piece of plant fiber is wedged between the left m2 and m3. the maxillary bone has eroded away from around the roots of m3, indicating the presence of an abscess in this area. k. u. 69362, _p. maniculatus_, adult: all teeth in the lower right tooth-row are greatly worn, especially on the lingual side. the labial half of the right m1 is all that remains; decay is apparent both in the crown and roots on the lingual side of this tooth. k. u. 69397, _p. maniculatus_, old: the maxillae have eroded away from around the anterior roots of each first upper molar, leaving these roots unsupported. c. l. d. 231, _p. maniculatus_, old: the teeth in this female are greatly worn; re-entrant angles are not visible in any teeth. a circular hole, 0.1 millimeter in diameter, exists in the dentine immediately over (when viewed from the underside of the skull) the posterior root of the right m1. the crowns of the teeth are greatly reduced in height, and the dentine is thin. anomalies in the skull wormian bones and other abnormalities in the roofing bones are noted, as follows: k. u. 76090, _p. maniculatus_, young: the interparietal is divided; the divided suture is in line with the suture between the parietals. the interparietal is 7.8 millimeters long. k. u. 76091, _p. maniculatus_, young: a wormian bone, 0.5 millimeter by 0.2 millimeter, lies between the anterior border of the interparietal and the posterior border of the left parietal, at a point midway between the center line of the skull and the posterolateral border of the parietal bone. c. l. d. 248, _p. maniculatus_, adult: an oval wormian bone, 1.1 millimeters long and 0.6 millimeter wide, lies between the parietals at their posterior margin; the long axis of the bone is parallel to the long axis of the skull. c. l. d. 246, _p. maniculatus_, juvenal: the interparietal is divided equally by a suture. an oval wormian bone, 0.3 millimeter long and 0.1 millimeter wide, lies between the frontals, midway between the anterior and posterior borders of these bones. c. l. d. 656, _p. maniculatus_, young: a small, rounded wormian bone lies between the right parietal and interparietal, lateral to the posterior junction of the suture between the parietals. this bone extends anteriorly into the parietal bone from the suture of the interparietal and parietal. this bone is 0.7 millimeter wide, and extends 0.6 millimeter into the parietal. c. l. d. 662, _p. maniculatus_, subadult: an elongated, diamond shaped wormian bone closes the suture between the parietal bones. this bone is 2.3 millimeters long and 0.8 millimeter wide. k. u. 34735, _p. truei_, old: the anterior one-quarter of the left parietal bone is slightly depressed; and the posterior one-third of the left frontal and anterior one-quarter of the left parietal are thin and sculptured. this malformation of the roofing bones posterior to the orbit probably is not the result of a break, for the orbital part of the frontal bone is normal. the frontal-parietal sutures are in the normal positions on both sides of the skull. the above-mentioned anomalies do not appear to be correlated with age or locality at which the specimens were taken. apparently such anomalies are present throughout the population, but in a small percentage of specimens. food habits mice of the genus _peromyscus_ are known to eat a wide variety of plants and arthropods, and to be highly opportunistic in selection of food (cogshall, 1928; hamilton, 1941; williams, 1955, 1959a; jameson, 1952; johnson, 1962). in order to determine possible food preferences, captive mice of both species were fed plants indigenous to mesa verde. entire plants were used whenever possible; available seeds also were offered (tables 5, 6). all feeding experiments were replicated with at least six different individuals in order to minimize the trends resulting from individual preferences or dislikes. the mice of each species tended to be consistent in their feeding. the plant species listed in tables 5 and 6 were those that were eaten or rejected by a majority of the individuals tested. plant material eaten by _p. maniculatus_ and refused by _p. truei_ included only the leaves and stem of _viguiera multiflora_. plant material eaten by _p. truei_ and refused by _p. maniculatus_ included the leaves of _calochortus gunnisonii_ and the leaves and stem of _erigeron speciosus_. table 5--plants, or parts of plants, eaten by captive individuals of _p. truei_ in mesa verde national park, colorado. 0 = not eaten, + = eaten, = not offered. =============================+========+======+========+======= species of plant | leaves | stem | flower | seeds -----------------------------+--------+------+--------+------ _amelanchier utahensis_ | | | | + _calochortus gunnisonii_ | + | + | | + _chaenactis douglasii_ | 0 | 0 | | _chrysothamnus depressus_ | 0 | 0 | 0 | _chrysothamnus nauseosus_ | + | 0 | 0 | _comandra umbellata_ | + | + | | _erigeron speciosus_ | + | + | | _eriogonum alatum_ | | | | + _juniperus osteosperma_ | | | | + _lupinus caudatus_ | 0 | 0 | + | _lithospermum ruderale_ | 0 | 0 | | 0 _mellilotus alba_ | + | + | + | + _mellilotus officinalis_ | + | + | + | _orthocarpus purpureo-albus_ | + | + | + | + _pedicularis centranthera_ | + | + | | _penstemon linarioides_ | + | + | | + _pinus edulis_ | | | | + _polygonum sawatchense_ | + | + | | 0 _solidago petradoria_ | 0 | 0 | 0 | _viguiera multiflora_ | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 -----------------------------+--------+------+--------+------plant material eaten by captives of both species included _calochortus gunnisonii_--stem and seeds; _comandra umbellata_--leaves and stem; _eriogonum alatum_--seeds; _penstemon linarioides_--leaves and stem; _pinus edulis_--seeds; and _juniperus osteosperma_--seeds. plant materials refused by both species of mice included the leaves and stem of _chaenactis douglasii_, the leaves, stem and seeds of _lithospermum ruderale_, and the leaves, stem and flowers of _solidago petradoria_. cricetine rodents chew plant and animal foods thoroughly; contents of their stomachs appear as finely-particulate fragments. these fragments invariably contain pieces of epidermis from ingested plants. due to the presence of cutin in the cell walls, epidermis is last to be digested. microscopic analysis of plant epidermis is useful in helping to determine food habits of various animals (dusi, 1949; williams, 1955, 1959a; brusven and mulkern, 1960; johnson, 1962). the microscopic analysis of stomach contents provides a practical method of determining which plants are eaten by rodents. contents of stomachs and intestines were removed from mice caught in snap traps, and from preserved specimens. the contents were placed on a piece of bolting silk, washed thoroughly with running water, stained with iron-hematoxylin and mounted on slides, or stored in 70 per cent ethanol (williams, 1959a; douglas, 1965). table 6--plants, or parts of plants, eaten by captive individuals of _p. maniculatus_ in mesa verde national park, colorado. 0 = not eaten, + = eaten, = not offered. =============================+========+======+========+======= species of plant | leaves | stem | flower | seeds -----------------------------+--------+------+--------+------ _artemisia ludoviciana_ | 0 | 0 | | _calochortus gunnisonii_ | 0 | + | | + _chaenactis douglasii_ | 0 | 0 | | _comandra umbellata_ | + | + | | _erigeron speciosus_ | 0 | 0 | | _eriogonum alatum_ | | | | + _juniperus osteosperma_ | | | | + _lappula redowskii_ | 0 | 0 | | + _lithospermum ruderale_ | 0 | 0 | | 0 _orthocarpus purpureo-albus_ | 0 | 0 | + | + _penstemon linarioides_ | + | + | + | _pinus edulis_ | | | | + _purshia tridentata_ | + | + | | _sitanion hystrix_ | 0 | 0 | | 0 _solidago petradoria_ | 0 | 0 | 0 | _sphaeralcea coccinea_ | + | + | | + _stipa comata_ | 0 | 0 | | + _viguiera multiflora_ | + | + | | -----------------------------+--------+------+--------+------in order to analyze these epidermal fragments, a collection of plants was made within the park. slides of the epidermis of these plants were prepared and analyzed for diagnostic characters (douglas, 1965:197-199). features such as the stomatal arrangement in relation to subsidiary cells; the types of trichomes, scales and glands; the cellular inclusions such as starch grains, mucilage and resins are of taxonomic value (metcalfe and chalk, 1950). the configuration of the anticlinal cell walls is useful in separating species that are similar in other respects (douglas, 1965:199). the following species of plants, and other food items, were identified in the stomach or intestinal contents of _peromyscus maniculatus_: _agropyron smithii_ _artemisia_ sp. _eriogonum umbellatum_ _lupinus ammophilus_ _penstemon linarioides_ _phlox hoodii_ _stipa comata_ arachnid legs stomach and intestinal contents of _p. truei_ contained the following food items: _artemisia nova_ _artemisia_ sp. _penstemon_ cf. _barbatus_ _penstemon_ cf. _linarioides_ _poa fendleriana_ arachnid legs _eriogonum_ sp. _gutierrezia sarothrae_ _yucca_ sp. chitin feathers many of the plants eaten by the mice had large numbers of crystals in the epidermis. druses were the most abundant, but raphid crystals also were seen. every slide contained at least one species of plant which contained druses. such crystals are composed mostly of calcium oxalate (esau, 1960:41). in mesa verde, families of plants having crystals include: boraginaceae, chenopodiaceae, compositae, cruciferae, leguminosae, liliaceae, malvaceae, ornargraceae, rosaceae, and saxifragaceae. calcium oxalate is a highly insoluble compound and is innocuous if it passes through the gastro-intestinal tract without being absorbed. in rats of the genus _neotoma_, some calcium oxalate passes through the intestines unchanged, but large amounts of calcium are absorbed through the intestine. the urine of pack rats is creamy in color and contains calcium carbonate. it is not understood how these rats metabolize the highly toxic oxalic acid, when converting calcium oxalate to calcium carbonate (schmidt-nielsen, 1964:147-148). apparently calcium oxalate passes through the intestine unchanged in both species of _peromyscus_, for their urine is clear and yellowish. although both species of mice appear to prefer plants having soft leaves, some plants having coarse leaves also are eaten. many of the slides contained isolated sclerids. the stomach contents of one individual of _p. truei_ contained a small fragment of the epidermis of _yucca_. this fragment may have come from a young shoot. it is unlikely that _peromyscus_ would eat the larger, coarser leaves of _yucca_. pinyon and juniper nuts were found in nests of all mice. captive mice were especially fond of pinyon nuts, and these probably provide a substantial part of the diet of _peromyscus_ in the autumn and early winter. the winter staple of _p. truei_ appears to be juniper seeds. nesting sites of this mouse often could be located by the mounds of discarded seeds lying nearby. both species eat pinyon and juniper seeds; since _p. truei_ lives in the forest, it has better access to these foods than does _p. maniculatus_. mice remove the embryos of juniper seeds by chewing a small hole in the larger end of the seed. the seed coats of juniper are extremely hard, and a considerable amount of effort must be expended to remove the embryo. captives discarded the resinous and pithy, outer layers of juniper berries. individuals of _p. truei_ are adept climbers. since many juniper berries remain on branches throughout the winter, the ability of these mice to forage in the trees would be especially advantageous when snow covers the ground. water consumption _peromyscus maniculatus_ is ubiquitous, occurring in habitats ranging from mesic boreal forests to arid southwestern deserts. most subspecies of _p. maniculatus_ live in moderately mesic or near-mesic environments, but a few have adapted to arid conditions. it has been assumed that the success of _p. maniculatus_ in inhabiting such diverse habitats is associated with its adaptability to different kinds of food and varying amount of available water (williams, 1959b:606). throughout its range _p. maniculatus_ coexists with one or more other species of _peromyscus_ that are more restricted in distribution. _peromyscus truei_ is one such species. both species live under xeric or near-xeric conditions, for the climate of mesa verde is semi-arid. other than a few widely-scattered springs, there are no sources of free water on the top of the mesa verde land mass; thus animals inhabiting the park must rely upon moisture in the plants and other foods they eat, or upon dew. several investigators have studied water consumption in mice of the genus _peromyscus_ (table 7). dice (1922) did so for the prairie deer mouse, _p. m. bairdii_, and the forest deer mouse, _p. leucopus noveboracensis_, under varying environmental conditions. he found that both species drank about the same amounts of water per gram of body weight, and that food and water requirements did not differ sufficiently to be the basis for the habitat differences between these species. neither of his samples was from an arid environment. chew (1951) studied water consumption in _p. leucopus_, and recently reviewed the literature on water metabolism of mammals (chew, 1965). in his studies of five subspecies of two species of _peromyscus_, ross (1930) found significant differences in water consumption between species but not between subspecies within a species. one of the subspecies of _p. maniculatus_ tested was from a desert region, whereas the other two were from mesic areas along the coast of california. lindeborg (1952) was the first to measure water consumption of both _p. m. rufinus_ and _p. t. truei_, the species and subspecies with which my experiments are concerned. lindeborg also tested the ability of five races of _peromyscus_ to survive reduced water rations. unfortunately, the subspecies chosen for these experiments did not include _p. t. truei_ or _p. m. rufinus_. lindeborg (1952:25) found that the "amounts of water consumed by various species of _peromyscus_ from different habitats within the same climatic region were not conclusively different." however, he did find significant differences between some subspecies from different geographical areas. for example, he found no significant difference in water consumption between _p. m. bairdii_ from michigan and either _p. m. blandus_ or _p. m. rufinus_ from new mexico, but he found a highly significant difference between _p. l. noveboracensis_ from michigan and _p. l. tornillo_ from new mexico. lindeborg also found that the subspecies of _peromyscus_ that consumed the least water, and that were best able to survive a reduced water ration, were those from the more xeric climatic areas. some mammals may be able to change their diets in times of water stress, and thereby compensate for a shortage of water. at such times, _dipodomys_ selects foods with high percentages of carbohydrates and conserves water by reducing the amounts of nitrogenous wastes to be excreted (schmidt-nielsen _et al._, 1948). williams (1959b) found that _p. m. osgoodi_ from colorado drank more water on a diet rich in protein than on one rich in carbohydrates. but, her mice on a high carbohydrate diet used less than a normal amount of water for a period of only five weeks; at the end of the five weeks they were drinking about as much as they had been when on the control diet of laboratory chow. likewise, mice adjusted to the high protein diet by consuming more water; but by the end of the fifth week their daily water consumption approximated the amount drunk when fed on laboratory chow. because of these results, williams questioned the validity of the assumption that _p. maniculatus_ is able to inhabit a diversity of habitats because of its adaptability with respect to food and water requirements. i conducted a series of experiments on water and food consumption by individuals of _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_. it was thought that if there were differences in water or food consumption, or both, knowledge of them might help to explain the obvious differences in habitat preferences of these two species in mesa verde national park. in august of 1965, 30 individuals of _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_ were trapped in mesa verde national park at elevations of 7000-8400 feet, and transported to lawrence, kansas, where the experiments were carried out. mice were housed in individual metal cages (10 x 7.5 x 5 inches), having removable tops of wire mesh, and an externally-mounted water bottle that had a drop-type spout extending into the cage. cages were on one of five shelves of a movable tier of shelving, and were rotated randomly, from one shelf to another, each week. a layer of dry wood shavings covered the bottom of each cage. a control cage was similarly equipped. the mice were kept in a room in which temperature and photoperiod were controlled. the ambient air temperature of this room was 20 to 23 degrees centigrade throughout the experiments, and averaged 21 degrees. humidity was not controlled, but remained low throughout the experiments. the room was illuminated for eight hours each day, from about 9 a. m. to 5 p. m. the animals were fed at least once a week, at which time all remaining food was weighed and discarded, and the remaining water was measured. tap water was used in all of the experiments. the cages were cleaned each week. each time the cages containing mice were handled, the control cage was handled in the same way. the amount of evaporation was determined each week by measuring the water remaining in the bottle of the control cage. water and food consumption of individuals of _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ were measured when the mice were fed diets of differing protein content. to my knowledge, the only other study in which water consumption was measured for mice of the genus _peromyscus_ on diets of different protein contents was by williams (1959b). because of the limited number of animals available, it was decided that the best results could be obtained by placing all individuals on the same diet for a predetermined number of weeks, then on a second diet for a certain period, and so on. each mouse was weighed at the beginning, at the mid-point, and at the end of each experiment. the mice were weighed on the same days, at times when they were inactive. because weights of individual mice differ, water and food consumption was calculated on the basis of the amount consumed per gram of body weight per day. all foods were air-dry and contained a negligible amount of water. first, food and water consumption was measured for nine individuals of each species on a diet of purina laboratory chow. this chow contains not less than 23 per cent protein and 4.5 per cent fat, and about 57 per cent carbohydrate. since the mice had been maintained on this diet for several months prior to the experiments, food and water consumption was measured for a period of only two weeks. individuals of _p. truei_ consumed more total water and more water per gram of body weight than individuals of _p. maniculatus_ (table 7). next, 10 mice of each species were placed on a diet of purina hog chow for a period of four weeks. this chow contains not less than 36 per cent protein and one per cent fat, and about 42 per cent carbohydrate. both species increased their daily water consumption immediately after being placed on this diet (tables 7 and 11). on the high protein diet, _p. truei_ again consumed much more water than did _p. maniculatus_ (tables 7 and 9). table 7--food and water consumption of _peromyscus maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ when fed diets of different protein content. food and water consumption are determined for the grams, or milliliters, consumed per gram of body weight per day; daily totals are also given. ==================================================================== _peromyscus maniculatus rufinus_ ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- diet | | food | total | water | total per cent | no. | /gram | grams | /gram | water protein | mice | /day â± s. d. | /day | /day â± s. d. | /day ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- lab chow 23 | 9 | .201 .074 | 4.455 | .262 .183 | 5.751 ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- hog chow 36 | 10 | .238 .060 | 5.232 | .496 .186 | 10.749 ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- corn 11 | 11 | .149 .044 | 3.144 | .174 .012 | 3.696 ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- _peromyscus truei truei_ ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- diet | | food | total | water | total per cent | no. | /gram | grams | /gram | water protein | mice | /day â± s. d. | /day | /day â± s. d. | /day ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- lab chow 23 | 10 | .216 .070 | 6.353 | .373 .119 | 10.880 ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- hog chow 36 | 10 | .230 .079 | 6.966 | .653 .189 | 19.571 ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+------- corn 11 | 10 | .158 .010 | 4.318 | .332 .016 | 9.034 ------------+------+---------------+-------+---------------+-------the tendency of both species to eat more of the hog chow than they ate when fed standard laboratory chow may reflect a higher palatability of the hog chow. both species consumed similar amounts of food per gram of body weight, on each of the diets (table 7). the larger _p. truei_ requires more grams of food per day than the smaller _p. maniculatus_, but this slight difference in food consumption probably has no effect on the distribution of these species within mesa verde. the results obtained with the low protein diet were strikingly different from those of the first two experiments. in this experiment the same groups of mice were placed on a diet of whole, shelled corn for a period of six weeks. the corn contained less than 11 per cent protein, about three per cent fat, and about 80 per cent carbohydrate. by the end of the first week, on the low protein diet, all mice had reduced their water intake by about half the amount used per day on the high protein diet (table 7). there was not a statistically significant difference, for either species, between the average amounts of water drunk in the first and in the sixth weeks of the experiment. the data in table 7 show that on all three diets, individuals of _p. maniculatus_ drank less water per gram of body weight than individuals of _p. truei_. variation in water consumption was high; some individuals of _p. maniculatus_ that drank more than the average amount for the species, consumed as much water as some individuals of _p. truei_ that drank less than the average amount. in general, individuals of _p. maniculatus_ drank about half as much water each day as individuals of _p. truei_. individuals of both species were consistent in their day-to-day consumption. table 8--amounts of mean daily water consumption as reported in the literature for species of _peromyscus_. figures in parentheses are means; those not in parentheses are extremes. column headings: a: mean daily ml./gm. wt./day b: water consumption total ml. per day c: temperature d: humidity e: per cent dietary protein f: investigator ================+===========+=============+=======+=======+====+===== | a | b | c | d | e | f ----------------+-----------+-------------+-------+-------+----+---- | (.262) | (5.70) | | | | _p. m. rufinus_ | .124-.699 | 2.71-15.07 | 20-23 | low | 23 | [a] | | | | | | _p. m. rufinus_ | (.101) | (2.39) | 20-25 | 24-47 | | [b] | | | | | | _p. m. osgoodi_ | .16-.25 | 3.2-4.3 | 18-22 | 10-20 | 23 | [c] | | | | | | | (.126) | (1.74) | | | | _p. m. bairdii_ | .082-.177 | 1.12-2.72 | 21 | 25-68 | | [d] | | | | | | _p. m. bairdii_ | .124-.182 | (2.37-3.17) | 20-25 | 24-47 | | [b] | | | | | | | (.372) | (10.80) | | | | _p. t. truei_ | .224-.561 | 7.0-16.92 | 20-23 | low | 23 | [a] | | | | | | _p. t. truei_ | (.085) | (2.77) | 20-25 | 24-47 | | [b] | | | | | | _p. l. nov._ | .057-.117 | 1.36-2.29 | 21 | 25-68 | | [d] | | | | | | _p. l. nov._ | | (5.36) | 18 | 62.5 | | [e] ----------------+-----------+-------------+-------+-------+----+---- [a] douglas [b] lindeborg, 1952 [c] williams, 1959 [d] dice, 1922 [e] chew, 1951 table 8 shows average water consumption for several species of _peromyscus_ as reported in the literature, and as determined in my study. it is difficult to compare my results with most of the data in the literature, because of a lack of information as to protein, fat, carbohydrate, and mineral contents of foods used in other studies. lindeborg (1952) and dice (1922) fed mice on a mixture of rolled oats, meat scraps, dry skimmed milk, wheat germ, etc. described by dice (1934). their data on water consumption in _p. maniculatus_ indicate that this mixture probably is lower in protein content than purina laboratory chow, that was used in my experiments and those of williams' (tables 8 and 9). the amount of dietary protein consumed under natural conditions is not known for most wild animals. one index of the minimum amount of protein necessary is the amount required for an animal to maintain its weight. at best, this can be only an approximation of the required amount, for other factors, such as stress, disease, change in tissues during oestrus or gonadal descent, and changes in constituents of the diet other than protein, would all be expected to affect the body weight (chew, 1965:145-147). the data in table 7 show that both species vary their food intake with changes in diet. table 10 shows weight changes that took place in individual mice when fed each of the three diets. a change in weight of one gram cannot be considered as important, for the weight of an individual mouse fluctuates depending upon when he last drank, ate, defecated or urinated. the only significant changes in weight occurred when mice were fed low protein food (table 10). individuals of _p. truei_ lost 15.72 per cent and individuals of _p. maniculatus_ lost 10.03 per cent of their total body weights on this diet. this indicates that food having a protein content of more than 10 per cent but less than 23 per cent is required for maintenance of weight in these animals. although knowledge of the amount of water consumed, _ad libitum_, by adult mice is valuable information, maintenance of the population depends upon reproduction and dispersal of young individuals. my trapping data indicate that only two to three per cent of the adults live long enough to breed in consecutive breeding seasons. in spring, the breeding population is composed largely of mice that were juveniles or subadults during the latter parts of the breeding season. therefore, the critical time for the population may well be the time when the season's young are being produced. any unfavorable circumstances, such as a shortage of food or water, that would affect pregnant or lactating females would be of primary importance to the integrity of the population. table 9--a comparison of mean daily water consumption of mice on high protein diets. numbers in parentheses are average values; all others are ranges of values. column headings: a: temperature b: relative humidity c: investigator ================+===========================+=========+=======+========= | mean daily h_{2}o | | | | consumption | | | species +-------------+-------------+ a | b | c | cc./gm. wt. | total cc. | | | ----------------+-------------+-------------+---------+-------+-------- _p. m. osgoodi_ | (0.27-0.54) | (4.6-9.3) | 18-22 c | 10-20 |williams, | | | | | 1959 ----------------+-------------+-------------+---------+-------+-------- | (0.496) | (10.74) | | | _p. m. rufinus_ | 0.186-0.764 | 4.54-16.57 | 20-23 c | low |douglas ----------------+-------------+-------------+---------+-------+-------- | (0.653) | (19.57) | | | _p. t. truei_ | 0.429-1.031 | 13.28-30.28 | 20-23 c | low |douglas ----------------+-------------+-------------+---------+-------+--------one would assume that pregnant and lactating females require more water than non-pregnant females. one might also assume that juveniles require different amounts of water and food than adults. juveniles have less dense pelage than adults, and probably are affected more by their immediate environment because of their relatively poor insulation. juveniles might also be in an unfavorable situation insofar as water conservation is concerned, because they are actively growing, and in most cases, acquiring new pelage; it is well known that these are times of stress for the individual. table 10--weights of mice at start and finish of experiments, showing changes in weight and mean weights, and means of changes in weight (mean delta). ======================================================================== _peromyscus truei truei_ ----+---------------------+----------------------+--------------------- | lab chow | hog chow | corn +------+------+-------+-------+------+-------+-------+------+------ no. |start | end |[delta]| start | end |[delta]| start | end |[delta] ----+------+------+-------+-------+------+-------+-------+------+------ 1 | 31.0 | 31.3 | 0.3 | 31.3 | 32.3 | 1.0 | 32.3 | 29.0 | 3.3 5 | 31.1 | 30.5 | 0.6 | 30.5 | 32.8 | 2.3 | 32.8 | 28.7 | 4.1 6 | 27.6 | 27.1 | 0.5 | 27.1 | 29.5 | 2.4 | 29.5 | 27.3 | 2.2 7 | 28.0 | 26.3 | 1.7 | 26.3 | 27.5 | 1.2 | 27.5 | 22.2 | 5.3 13 | 25.8 | 30.6 | 4.8 | 30.6 | 27.0 | 3.6 | 27.0 | 22.2 | 4.8 14 | 26.9 | 30.7 | 3.8 | 30.7 | 31.4 | 0.7 | 31.4 | 27.3 | 4.1 15 | 25.4 | 29.4 | 4.0 | 29.4 | 29.8 | 0.4 | 29.8 | 24.0 | 5.8 16 | 33.0 | 32.9 | 0.1 | 32.9 | 30.5 | 2.4 | 30.5 | 26.0 | 4.5 19 | 37.6 | 38.1 | 0.5 | 38.1 | 31.8 | 6.3 | 31.8 | 22.0 | 9.8 20 | 23.5 | 25.8 | 2.3 | 25.8 | 26.2 | 0.4 | 26.2 | 22.9 | 3.1 ----+------+------+-------+-------+------+-------+-------+------+------ [=y]| 28.9 | 30.2 | 1.8 | 30.2 | 29.8 | 2.0 | 29.8 | 25.2 | 4.7 ----+------+------+-------+-------+------+-------+-------+------+------ _peromyscus maniculatus rufinus_ ----+---------------------+----------------------+--------------------- | lab chow | hog chow | corn +------+------+-------+-------+------+-------+-------+------+------ no. |start | end |[delta]| start | end |[delta]| start | end |[delta] ----+------+------+-------+-------+------+-------+-------+------+------ 2 | 23.0 | 20.7 | 2.3 | 20.7 | 21.1 | 0.4 | 21.1 | 18.6 | 2.5 3 | 22.7 | 23.1 | 0.4 | 23.1 | 23.8 | 0.7 | 23.8 | 20.7 | 3.1 4 | 22.0 | 21.1 | 0.9 | 21.1 | 21.8 | 0.7 | 21.8 | 21.3 | 0.5 8 | 26.3 | 28.1 | 1.8 | 28.1 | 15.8 | 2.3 | 25.8 | 23.8 | 2.0 9 | 21.5 | 24.0 | 2.5 | 24.0 | 25.1 | 1.1 | 25.1 | 21.8 | 3.3 10 | | | | | | | 22.5 | 20.0 | 2.5 11 | 21.0 | 22.1 | 1.1 | 22.1 | 20.8 | 1.3 | 20.8 | 19.0 | 1.8 12 | 22.3 | 23.2 | 0.9 | 23.2 | 21.3 | 1.9 | 21.3 | 20.4 | 0.9 17 | 18.9 | 20.0 | 1.1 | 20.0 | 19.2 | 0.8 | 19.2 | 19.4 | 0.2 18 | 17.0 | 17.5 | 0.5 | 17.5 | 19.5 | 2.0 | 19.5 | 17.3 | 2.2 21 | 18.9 | 18.1 | 0.8 | 18.1 | 20.2 | 2.1 | 20.2 | 17.3 | 2.9 ----+------+------+-------+-------+------+-------+-------+------+------ [=y]| 21.4 | 21.8 | 1.2 | 21.8 | 21.8 | 1.3 | 21.9 | 19.9 | 2.2 ----+------+------+-------+-------+------+-------+-------+------+------lindeborg (1950:76) found that 15 days before parturition, pregnant and non-pregnant females of _p. m. bairdii_ drank about the same amounts of water, that females consumed more water after the young were born and until they were weaned, and that water consumption increased with an increase in weight in young, growing individuals. he found that in the later stages of pregnancy, females of _p. m. bairdii_ required 36 per cent more water than non-breeding females; at 14 days after parturition, nursing females required 111 per cent more water than non-breeding females, and at weaning time, 158 per cent more water. dice (1922:35) reported a 217 per cent increase in drinking of _p. m. bairdii_ before parturition, and 171 per cent increase while nursing. several females of both species were bred prior to the start of the experiments described herein. as a consequence, it was possible to determine water and food consumption for lactating females of each species, and later, for their litters. pregnant and lactating females, and newly-weaned litters, were fed laboratory chow throughout this experiment. the litters were separated from their mothers as soon as the young were observed to be eating, or no later than 33 days after birth. table 11 shows the amounts of water and food consumed by two females of each species while they were either in the later stages of pregnancy, or were nursing. although the data in table 11 do not cover the full developmental time of the litters involved, it is obvious that both lactating females of _p. truei_ and one female of _p. maniculatus_ consumed more water than the average for their species (table 7). water and food consumption was measured for both females of _p. truei_ while they were nursing. the female that gave birth to litter a was left in the cage with the male for several days after the litter was born, resulting in another litter being born about 27 days after the first. therefore, the record of this female represents an extreme case of stress (probably a common occurrence in nature) in which a female is nursing one litter while she is pregnant with a second. the record of the female of _p. truei_ that gave birth to litter b is the most complete, including data from the fifth day after parturition until the young were weaned on the thirty-third day after parturition. the record of the female of _p. maniculatus_ that gave birth to litter c covers the last 10 days of nursing before the young were weaned. after being separated from her litter, this female drank more than the average amounts of water, on both high and low protein diets. although the food and water were lost several times for the female of _p. maniculatus_ with litter d, the period of time covered by the 14 days when water and food consumption were measured includes times just prior to parturition and to weaning of the young. table 11--water and food consumed by nursing females of _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_. consumption is calculated on the basis of amount (milliliters or grams) consumed per gram of body weight per day, as well as total amounts used per day. column headings: a: water used b: no. days c: average weight d: ml. h_{2}o/gm./day e: total water/day f: no. in litter g: food used h: gms. food/gm./day i: total food/day =====================+=======+====+=======+======+=======+=== female | a | b | c | d | e | f ---------------------+-------+----+-------+------+-------+-- _p. truei_ (a) | 447 | 17 | 33.00 | .796 | 26.29 | 3 _p. truei_ (b) | 676 | 28 | 32.70 | .738 | 24.14 | 3 _p. maniculatus_ (c) | 191 | 10 | 19.45 | .983 | 19.10 | 5 _p. maniculatus_ (d) | 133 | 14 | 24.35 | .224 | 5.46 | 6 ---------------------+-------+----+-------+------+-------+-- female | g | b | c | h | i | f ---------------------+-------+----+-------+------+-------+-- _p. truei_ (a) | 214.7 | 26 | 33.00 | .250 | 8.26 | 3 _p. truei_ (b) | 120.5 | 24 | 32.70 | .153 | 5.02 | 3 _p. maniculatus_ (c) | 47.8 | 10 | 19.45 | .246 | 4.78 | 5 _p. maniculatus_ (d) | 180.1 | 21 | 27.42 | .312 | 8.58 | 6 ---------------------+-------+----+-------+------+-------+--it is interesting that the female of _p. maniculatus_ with litter c used much more than the average amount of water for the species, and even more per gram of body weight than lactating females of _p. truei_. conversely, water consumption of the female with litter d was within one standard deviation of the mean for all adults of _p. maniculatus_. i infer that at least some lactating females of _p. maniculatus_ are better adapted to aridity than are some lactating females of _p. truei_. table 11 also shows food consumption of the four females discussed above. all females, with the exception of the female with litter d, consumed amounts of food that lie within one standard deviation of the means for their species. the female with litter d had the most young, consumed the most food but drank the least water of the four females. later, when separated from her litter and placed on the low protein diet, this female drank only .046 milliliters of water per gram of body weight per day. this figure is less than one-third of the average amount (.174) for this species (table 7). the records of water and food consumption for litters a, c, and d are given in table 12; the mice in litter b persisted in placing wood shavings in the opening of the spout on their water bottle, causing loss of the water. the data show that mice in all three litters had an average water and food consumption within one standard deviation of the mean for adults of their respective species (tables 7 and 12). it is interesting that juveniles of both species require no more food and water per gram of body weight than adults. this indicates that if a young animal survives the rigors of postnatal life until it is weaned, it is then at no disadvantage as far as food and water consumption are concerned. this would be greatly advantageous to the species, as a population, for the young could disperse immediately upon weaning, and go into any areas that would be habitable for adults of the species. table 12--food and water consumed by young mice in litters, after weaning. consumption is calculated on the basis of the amount (milliliters or grams) consumed per gram of litter weight per day; total amounts are shown and can be divided by litter size for average individual consumption. litter sizes are as follows: a=3; c=5; d=6. =====================+=======+=========+=====+=========+========+====== | total | | | average | ml. | total litter | water | total | no. | total |h_{2}o/ | water | used |corrected|days | weight |gm./day | /day ---------------------+-------+---------+-----+---------+--------+----- _p. truei_ (a) | 1207 | 1120 | 57 | 58.30 | .337 | 19.64 _p. maniculatus_ (c) | 1427 | 1340 | 57 | 76.14 | .308 | 23.50 _p. maniculatus_ (d) | 700 | 670 | 31 | 58.80 | .367 | 21.61 ---------------------+-------+---------+-----+---------+--------+----- | total | | average | gms./ | total litter | food | no. | total |gms. wt.| food | used |days | weight | /day | /day -----------------------------+---------+-----+---------+--------+----- _p. truei_ (a) | 651.2 | 50 | 58.30 | .223 | 13.02 _p. maniculatus_ (c) | 743.8 | 57 | 76.14 | .171 | 13.04 _p. maniculatus_ (d) | 471.1 | 31 | 58.80 | .258 | 15.19 -----------------------------+---------+-----+---------+--------+-----the young of pregnant and lactating females are the animals in the population most likely to be affected by a deficient supply of water. drought could reduce the water content of the vegetation to such a level that pregnant or lactating females might find it difficult, if not impossible, to raise litters successfully. if such a drought persisted throughout an entire breeding season, the next year's population would be reduced in numbers, for even under normal climatic conditions it is almost exclusively the juveniles that survive from one breeding season to the next. if such a hypothetical drought occurred, lactating females of _p. truei_ would be in a more critical position than lactating females of _p. maniculatus_. in order to determine how much water was available to mice in the peak of the breeding season, samples of the three most common plants in the study area were collected each week for analysis of their moisture content. plants were placed in separate plastic bags that were sealed in the field. about a dozen plants of each species were used in each determination. only the new tender shoots of the plants were collected, for it was assumed that mice would eat these in preference to the tougher basal portions of the plants. the plants were taken immediately to the laboratory and were weighed in the bag. then the bag was opened and it and the contents placed in an incubator at 85 degrees fahrenheit for a period of at least 72 hours. about 48 hours were required to dry the plants to a constant weight. the dried plants were weighed and their percentages of moisture were determined. plants lose some water upon being placed in a closed bag; small drops of water appear immediately on the inner surface of the bag. therefore, the bag must be weighed at the same time as the plants and the weight of the dried bag must be subtracted later. the three kinds of plants chosen were among the most widely distributed species in the study area, and all three grow close to the ground, within reach of mice. stems and leaves of two of the plants, _comandra umbellata_ and _penstemon linarioides_, were readily eaten by captive animals. mice also were observed to eat leaves of _comandra_ after being released from metal live traps. the third species, _solidago petradoria_, differs from the other two in having a short woody stem that branches at ground level. the more succulent shoots arise from this woody stem. the leaves of _solidago_ are coarse and were not eaten by captive mice. nevertheless, this species was chosen because it is widely distributed and has the growth form of several other species of plants in the area. the graph in figure 20 shows that _comandra_ contains the highest percentage of water through most of the summer. water content of both _penstemon_ and _comandra_ was greatly reduced in the dry period that occurred in early july. _solidago_ maintained a relatively constant percentage of moisture; perhaps its woody stem serves for water storage. the rains of july and august increased the percentage of moisture in the plants, but not to the extent expected. neither _solidago_ nor _comandra_ reached the levels of hydration of early june. all plants were collected at or about 11 a. m. at night, when mice are active, these plants would be expected to contain a higher percentage of water than in the daytime. the data in figure 20 indicate that mice probably are not endangered by water shortages in most years. the average percentage of moisture in the plants studied was as follows: _comandra umbellata_ 62.33 per cent; _solidago petradoria_ 53.0 per cent; _penstemon linarioides_ 49.28 per cent. if a mouse were to eat ten grams of plant material containing 50 per cent moisture, it would provide him with five grams of food and five grams of water, both of which exceed the minimum daily needs for non-pregnant adults of either species. the data indicate that there are sufficient differences in water consumption between _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ to account for their habitat preferences in mesa verde national park. in years having average precipitation, water present in the vegetation has the potential for providing enough moisture for the needs of both species. extended drought would affect individuals of _p. truei_ more adversely than individuals of _p. maniculatus_. [illustration: fig. 20: graph showing percentages of moisture contained during the summer of 1964, by three abundant and widely-distributed species of plants in mesa verde national park, colorado.] parasitism ectoparasites were collected by placing specimens of _peromyscus_ in separate plastic bags soon after death, adding cotton saturated with carbon tetrachloride, closing the bag for about five minutes, then brushing the fur of the specimen above a sheet of white paper. the ectoparasites were sorted and sent to specialists for identification. endoparasites were saved when stomach and intestinal contents were examined. larvae of botflies were collected from mice in the autumn of 1962, placed in sand in containers, and kept over winter until they hatched. eyelids of alcoholic specimens were inspected for mites by an authority on these organisms. in 1961, the incidence of parasitism by botflies was the highest for the period 1960-1966. _p. maniculatus_ was more heavily infected with warbles than was _p. truei_. in 84 individuals of _p. maniculatus_ taken in september 1961, from morfield ridge, 32.1 per cent had warbles. the average number of warbles per animal was 1.24, and it was not uncommon to find two or three warbles per mouse. sixty-nine per cent of the warbles were in the third instar stage, and the rest were in the second instar stage. warble infestation was higher in the first half of september (40 per cent of mice infected) than in the second half of the month (30 per cent infected), but a larger percentage of the warbles were found (69 per cent) in the second half of the month. in october 1961, 12.9 per cent of 62 _p. truei_ were infected with warbles. the average number of warbles per infected mouse was 1.37. seventy-three per cent of the warbles were in the third instar stage; the rest were in the second instar stage. warble infestation was higher in the first half of october (16 per cent of the mice infected) than in the second half of the month (5.5 per cent infected). these mice were collected from several localities on chapin mesa, in pinyon-juniper woodland. in mesa verde the greatest incidence of infestations is in late september and early october. this agrees with the finding of other investigators (sealander, 1961:58). sealander (1961) investigated hematological values in deer mice infected with botflies, and found that infected mice had significantly lower concentrations of hemoglobin than non-infected mice. myiasis, associated with infection by _cuterebra_, is likely to lead to a lowering of the physiological resistance of a segment of the population, and perhaps to a subsequent decline in the population (sealander, 1961:60). mice infected by warbles were less agile than non-infected mice. other investigators also have reported awkwardness in locomotion in infected mice (scott and snead, 1942:95; sealander, 1961:58). test and test (1943:507) noted that parasitized mice did not appear to be emaciated, and this was also true of parasitized mice at mesa verde. healed wounds, where warbles had emerged, were apparent on a number of mice. the warbles, and wounds, usually were found on the flanks and backs of the mice. the large, third instar larvae weighed about one gram apiece; there is little doubt that such large larvae induce trauma in their hosts. the highest rate of infestation by botflies occurred in 1961, the year in which the population density of _p. maniculatus_ was near its peak. the population of this species was reduced considerably in 1962, and remained low through 1964. in 1965, the density of _p. maniculatus_ appeared to be increasing. other investigators have reported that increased incidence of _cuterebra_ infestation in deer mice coincides with lower population densities and with a downward trend in the population (scott and snead, 1942:95; wilson, 1945). my data indicate that this may not be the situation in mesa verde. the intestines or stomachs of almost all individuals of _p. maniculatus_ contained parasites. endoparasites were less abundant in individuals of _p. truei_. this heavier infestation of _p. maniculatus_ by tapeworms, roundworms, and spiny-headed worms probably reflects the larger proportion of insects eaten by _p. maniculatus_ than by _p. truei_. the most common endoparasite encountered was the nematode, _mastophorus numidica_ seurat, 1914; it was found in the stomachs of many individuals of both species of _peromyscus_. this nematode has been reported from _felis ocreata_ in algeria, _bitis arietans_ in the congo, and from the following mammals in the united states: _canis latrans_, _peromyscus crinitus_, _p. gossypinus_, _p. maniculatus_, _p. truei_, _onychomys leucogaster_, _dipodomys ordii_, _reithrodontomys megalotis_, and _eutamias minimus_. individuals of _p. maniculatus_ obtained on the northern end of wetherill mesa in may and june of 1962 had numerous ectoparasites. at this time, the population of _p. maniculatus_ was high, but on a downward trend. my data and observations lead me to conclude that individuals of _p. maniculatus_ are more heavily parasitized by both botflies and endoparasites than are individuals of _p. truei_. the reasons for this unequal amount of parasitism in two species of mice occurring in the same general area remain obscure. the kinds of endoparasites and ectoparasites collected from _p. maniculatus_ and from _p. truei_ are listed below (m = present in _p. maniculatus_, t = present in _p. truei_). acarina: ixodidae: _dermacentor andersoni_ mt, _ixodes angustus_ mt, _ixodes spinipalpis_ m. laelaptidae: _androlaelaps glasgowi_ m. myobiidae: _blarinobia_ sp. m. trombiculidae: _euschoengastia lanei_ mt, _euschoengastia criceticola_ m, _euschoengastia dicipiens_ t, _euschoengastia peromysci_ m, _leewenhoekia americana_ m, _trombicula loomisi_ m. diptera: cuterebridae: _cuterebra cyanella_ mt. siphonaptera: _callistopsyllus deuterus_ m, _catallagia decipiens_ m, _epetedia stanfordi_ mt, _malaraeus sinomus_ mt, _malaraeus telchinum_ mt, _megarthroglossus procus_ mt, _monopsyllus wagneri wagneri_ mt, _orchopeas leucopus_ mt, _peromyscopsylla hesperomys adelpha_ mt, _phalacropsylla allos_ t, _rhadinopsylla sectilis goodi_ t, _stenistomera macrodactyla_ m, _stenoponia_ (_ponera_ or _americana_) mt. cestoda: _choanotaenia_ sp. m, _hymenolepis_ sp. t. nematoda: _mastophorus numidica_ mt, _syphacia obvelata_ mt, _trichuris stansburyi_ t. acanthocephala: _moniliformis clarki_ mt. predation in order to determine the relative numbers of each species of _peromyscus_ that were taken on a seasonal basis by predators, scats of coyotes and foxes were collected from trails and roads at least twice each month, from september 1963 through august 1964. scats were identified, labeled and dried; all bones and samples of hair were later removed from each scat. scats that were intermediate in size between the droppings of foxes and coyotes, and that could not be identified readily in the field, were not collected. bones from the scats were identified to species, and hair was identified to genus or species by comparing color patterns or cuticular patterns with samples from known mammals. more than 200 impression slides and whole mounts of guard hair and underfur were prepared. seven individuals of _p. truei_ and three individuals of _p. maniculatus_ were represented in 114 coyote scats (table 13). both species of _peromyscus_ comprised only 3.9 per cent of the 253 items of food represented in the 114 scats. rabbits, _sylvilagus_ sp. and mule deer, _odocoileus hemionus_ were the major food items of coyotes. mice of the genus _peromyscus_ apparently were preyed upon mostly in autumn (september through november), when mouse populations were near their yearly peaks. foxes also prey upon _peromyscus_ in the park. one _p. truei_ was represented in the 16 scats of foxes that were analyzed. this individual was taken in the winter quarter (december through february). the bobcat may be an important predator upon _peromyscus_ in this region, but few scats of this animal were found. since these could not be assigned to a specific month, they were not saved for analysis. anderson (1961:58) believed that bobcats and gray foxes were the most abundant predators in the park. my observations over a period of two years led me to conclude that coyotes were more abundant than foxes and that foxes were, in turn, more abundant than bobcats. table 13--food present in 114 coyote scats collected at mesa verde national park each month from september 1963 through august 1964. ============================+=============+============ | number | percentage food item | of | of total | occurrences | items ----------------------------+-------------+----------- _sylvilagus_ sp. | 32 | 12.65 _spermophilus variegatus_ | 5 | 1.97 _eutamias_ sp. | 12 | 4.74 _reithrodontomys megalotis_ | 4 | 1.58 _peromyscus boylei_ | 2 | 0.79 _peromyscus maniculatus_ | 3 | 1.18 _peromyscus truei_ | 7 | 2.76 _neotoma cinerea_ | 2 | 0.79 _neotoma mexicana_ | 9 | 3.56 _neotoma albigula_ | 5 | 1.97 _neotoma_ sp. | 3 | 1.18 _microtus longicaudus_ | 1 | 0.39 _microtus mexicanus_ | 11 | 4.34 _microtus montanus_ | 1 | 0.39 _microtus_ sp. | 1 | 0.39 _odocoileus hemionus_ | 59 | 23.32 grass | 34 | 13.44 juniper berries | 23 | 9.09 pinyon needles | 14 | 5.53 pinyon nuts | 1 | 0.39 arthropods | 7 | 2.76 juniper needles | 3 | 1.18 rodent or lagomorph bones | 5 | 1.97 _sceloporus_ sp. | 1 | 0.39 unidentified fruit | 2 | 0.79 rocks | 3 | 1.18 paper | 4 | 1.58 soil | 3 | 1.18 feathers | 5 | 1.97 +-------------+----------- total | 253 | ----------------------------+-------------+-----------hawks, owls and eagles live in the park. red-tailed hawks were seen frequently in the burned area on the northern end of wetherill mesa. both hawks and owls probably prey upon _peromyscus_ in mesa verde, for they are well-known predators upon mice and small rodents in other areas. i tried to find owl and hawk nests that were occupied, but located only nests that were abandoned or impossible to reach. captive gopher snakes, _pituophis melanoleucus_, ate adults of both species of _peromyscus_. gopher snakes probably are the most abundant snake in the park; they feed mostly on mice and other rodents. fur of _peromyscus_ was found in the stomach of a striped whipsnake, _masticophis taeniatus_ (douglas, 1966:734). discussion five species of _peromyscus_ inhabit mesa verde national park (anderson, 1961). two of these species, _p. crinitus_ and _p. difficilis_ are rare, and none was taken in more than 14,000 trap nights. several individuals of _p. boylei_ were taken in live traps, but this species could not be regarded as common. the two remaining species, _p. truei_ and _p. maniculatus_, are the most abundant species in the park. comparison of the habitats and life-cycles of these two forms and analyses of their interrelationships have been the objectives of this study. the distribution of _p. truei_ in the park is regulated by the presence of living pinyon-juniper woodland where logs and hollow trees of _juniperus osteosperma_ provide nesting and hiding places, and where seeds of juniper trees and nuts of pinyon trees provide food. several other investigators have reported _p. truei_ to be associated with trees, but apparently these findings have not assumed the importance they warrant in understanding the ecology of this species. bailey (1931:152) observed an individual of _p. truei_ nesting in a tree on conchas creek, new mexico, and thought that this species might be more arboreal than was generally supposed. the type specimen of _p. t. truei_ was taken by shufeldt from a "nest protruding from an opening in the dead and hollow trunk of a small pinon, at least 2 feet above the ground.... the nest, composed of the fine fibers of the inner bark of the pinon, was soon pulled out, and its owner dislodged...." (shufeldt, 1885:403). individuals of _p. truei_ usually build nests in trees, or in hollow logs, and are therefore more abundant in pinyon-juniper woodland where there are many such nesting sites. rocks and stones are not necessary in the habitat of _p. truei_, although this species was most abundant where there was stony soil. the coincidence of rock or stones and a high density of _p. truei_ is thought to be explainable in terms of vegetation. stony soils support mixed shrubs as well as pinyon and juniper trees; the additional cover and source of food probably allow a greater abundance of _p. truei_ than would be possible without the shrubs. secondarily, the rock provides nesting sites for more mice. stands of mixed shrubs, lacking a pinyon-juniper canopy, do not support _p. truei_. its absence was noteworthy on navajo hill and on the northern end of wetherill mesa where only _p. maniculatus_ lived among the mixed shrubs and grassland. on the mesa verde, pinyon and juniper trees must be present in order for _p. truei_ to live in an area; and, these trees must be alive. dead pinyons and junipers still stand in the burned part of morfield ridge, but no _p. truei_ were found there. although a few individuals of _p. truei_ were taken in stands of sagebrush adjacent to pinyon-juniper woodlands, this species does not ordinarily venture far from the forest. _p. maniculatus_ lives almost everywhere in mesa verde; the preferred habitats are open and grassy with an overstory of mixed shrubs. individuals of _p. maniculatus_ venture into ecotonal areas lying between grasslands and pinyon-juniper forest, or between sagebrush and pinyon-juniper forest. _p. maniculatus_ is found also in disturbed areas and in stands of sagebrush that occur in clearings of the pinyon-juniper woodland. in such areas, _p. maniculatus_ and _p. truei_ are sympatric; their home ranges overlap and any inter-specific competition that might occur would be expected in these places. the ability of _p. maniculatus_ to live in many different habitats is correlated in part with its ability to build nests in a variety of sites. whereas _p. truei_ usually builds nests only in dead branches or logs, _p. maniculatus_ builds nests in such varied places as spaces under rocks, at the bases of rotten trees, and in abandoned tunnels of pocket gophers. this adaptability is advantageous for the dispersal of young individuals and the movement of adults into new areas. nesting sites have important bearing on survival of the young. in mesa verde the rainy season occurs in july and august, while both species of _peromyscus_ are reproducing. it is reasonable to assume that young animals that remain dry survive better than those that become wet and chilled. the nestling young of _p. truei_ are in a more favorable position to remain dry and warm than are nestling young of _p. maniculatus_. captives of each species differed in the amounts of water consumed per gram of body weight. individuals of _p. truei_ consumed more water per gram of body weight than individuals of _p. maniculatus_. animals may drink more water than they require when allowed to drink _ad libitum_, but lindeborg (1952) has shown that species which consume less water when it is not restricted also fare better on a reduced ration. _p. maniculatus_ appears to be better adapted to aridity than _p. truei_. the preferred habitats of each species are in accord with these findings. within the trapping grid, the most moderate microenvironment, in terms of temperature and humidity, was in the pinyon-juniper forest, where _p. truei_ lives. the temperature extremes were wider in the microenvironments of a thicket of oak brush and of two different stands of sagebrush, where _p. maniculatus_ lives, than in the forest. _p. maniculatus_ tends to live in the harsher, more arid parts of mesa verde. because of its propensity to build nests under things, or in the ground, and because of its ability to use less water per gram of body weight, _p. maniculatus_ is better adapted to withstand harsh environments than is _p. truei_. _p. truei_ may be restricted to the pinyon-juniper woodland because of its need for more mesic conditions. still, mesa verde is semi-arid and there are few permanent sources of water available for animals. the primary source of moisture for rodents must be their food. analysis of the percentages of moisture contained in the three most common plants in the trapping grid showed that _p. truei_ could obtain the required moisture by eating about ten grams of these plants daily; individuals of _p. maniculatus_ would need to eat less in order to satisfy their water needs. individuals of _p. truei_ died more frequently in warm live-traps than did individuals of _p. maniculatus_. this indicates that _p. truei_ can tolerate less desiccation, or a narrower range of temperatures, than can _p. maniculatus_. both species of mice eat some of the same plants, but these plants occur widely. _p. truei_ seems to rely more upon the nuts of pinyons and the seeds of junipers than does _p. maniculatus_. mounds of discarded juniper seeds were associated with all nesting sites of _p. truei_. bailey (1931:153) also noticed the fondness of this species for pine nuts and juniper seeds. apparently, the availability of these foods is one of the major factors affecting the distribution of _p. truei_. however, this is not the only factor, as is shown by the presence of _p. maniculatus_ but lack of _p. truei_ in a juniper-pinyon association with an understory of bitterbrush. this habitat was seemingly too arid for _p. truei_. factors affecting population densities the production of young, and success in rearing them, is essential to continuity of any population. _p. maniculatus_ is favored in this respect, because the females produce more young and wean them sooner than do females of _p. truei_. in addition, lactating females of _p. maniculatus_ require significantly less water than do females of _p. truei_. since young mice of both species require no more water per gram of body weight than do adults, the young can disperse into any area that is habitable by their species. _p. maniculatus_ probably is affected less by prolonged drought than is _p. truei_. since lactating females require the most water of any animal in the population, they are the weakest link in the system. females of _peromyscus_ are known to reabsorb embryos when conditions are unfavorable for continued pregnancy. if prolonged drought occurred in the reproductive season, and desiccated the vegetation upon which the mice depend for moisture, the populations should diminish the following year. lactating females of _p. truei_ would be affected more seriously by a shortage of water than would lactating females of _p. maniculatus_. of two species, the one producing the more young probably would be subjected to more parasitism and predation than the species producing fewer young. a favorable season for botflies, _cuterebra_ sp., revealed that _p. maniculatus_ has a higher incidence of parasitism by these flies than has _p. truei_; possibly the adult flies concentrate in the open, grassy areas where _p. maniculatus_ is more abundant, rather than in the woodlands where _p. truei_ lives. perhaps the lower parasitism of _p. truei_ by warbles is related to the physiology of this species of mouse. near boulder, colorado, the incidence of infection by warbles is lower in _p. difficilis_, a species closely related to _p. truei_, than in _p. maniculatus_ (v. keen, personal communication). although predation by carnivores would be expected to be higher on _p. maniculatus_, because this species does not climb, my data show that more individuals of _p. truei_ were taken by coyotes. i lack confidence in these findings, suspecting that another sample might indicate the reverse. birds of prey probably catch more individuals of _p. maniculatus_, because this species lives in more open habitats. my data do not warrant firm conclusions regarding predation. the length of time females must care for their young influences the rate at which individuals can be added to the population. females of _p. truei_ nurse their young longer and keep them in the nest longer than do females of _p. maniculatus_. although this may enhance the chances of survival of young of _p. truei_, it also reduces the number of litters that each female can have in each breeding season. females of _p. maniculatus_ can produce more young per litter, and each female probably can produce more litters per year than females of _p. truei_. captives of _p. truei_ were tolerant of other individuals of the same species, even when kept in close confinement. however, when there was slight shortage of food or water they killed their litter mates, or females killed their young. only a short period of time was necessary for one mouse to dispatch all others in the litter. the attacked mice were bitten through the head before being eaten; the brains and viscera were the first parts consumed. the population might be decimated rapidly if drought forced this species to cannibalism. when the supply of food or water was restored, the captive mice resumed their tolerant nature. in captivity, _p. maniculatus_ is amazingly tolerant of close confinement with members of the same species; individuals did not tend to kill their litter mates, or their young, even during shortage of food and water. this tolerance, especially under stressful conditions, probably enables _p. maniculatus_ to persist in relatively unfavorable areas. adaptations to environment each of the two species of _peromyscus_ illustrates one or more adaptations to its environment. _p. truei_ is adapted to climbing by possession of long toes, a long tail, and large hind feet. the tail is used as a counterbalance when climbing (horner, 1954). when frightened, individuals of _p. truei_ often ran across the ground in a semi-saltatorial fashion, bounding over clumps of grass that were as much as 18 inches high. such individuals usually ran to the nearest tree and climbed to branches 10 to 20 feet above the ground. large eyes are characteristic of the _truei_ group of mice, and may be an adaptation to a semi-arboreal mode of life. a similar adaptation is shared by some other arboreal mammals, and of arboreal snakes. the large eyes of _p. truei_ in comparison to those of _p. maniculatus_, probably increase the field of vision, and permit the animal to look downward as well as in other directions. the above-mentioned adaptations of _p. truei_ permit these graceful mice to use their environment effectively. by climbing, this species can nest above-ground in the hollow branches of trees, and can rear its young in a comparatively safe setting. the ability to climb also permits vertical as well as horizontal use of a limited habitat. because of the three-dimensional nature of the home range of _truei_, its range is actually larger than that of _maniculatus_ although the standard trapping procedures makes the home range of the two appear to be about the same size. finally, trees may offer safety from predators, and a source of food that probably is the winter staple of this species. _peromyscus maniculatus_ has adapted differently to its environment. small size of body and appendages permit this species to use a variety of nesting sites and hiding places even though it is restricted, by its anatomy, to life on the ground. the tail and hind feet are shorter than in _p. truei_, and _p. maniculatus_ is an inefficient climber. i have placed individuals in bushes, and found that many walk off into space from a height of several feet. perhaps the relative smallness of their eyes accounts for their seeming lack of awareness of how high they are above the ground. when frightened, individuals of _p. maniculatus_ ran rapidly in a zig-zag path and dove into the nearest cover. mice, released from live traps, often stuck their heads under leaves, leaving their bodies exposed. this species tends to hide as rapidly as possible, and remain motionless. this tactic would not be of much value as an escape from carnivores, but it could be effective against birds of prey. in mesa verde, _p. maniculatus_ inhabits the more arid, open areas. when the population is dense, individuals of this species are found also in pinyon-juniper woodland. apparently _p. maniculatus_ prefers the grassy areas and the thickets of oak brush. although such habitats have harsh climatic conditions, they offer innumerable hiding places, and thus have great advantage for a species confined to the ground. the low requirements of water per gram of body weight, the ability to eat diversified foods, the use of varied habitats, the high fecundity, and the ability to use any nook for retreat or nesting make _p. maniculatus_ a successful inhabitant of most parts of mesa verde, and indeed, of most of north america. literature cited anderson, s. 1961. mammals of mesa verde national park, colorado. univ. kansas publ., mus. nat. hist., 14:29-67, 2 pls., 3 figs. arrhenius, g., and e. bonatti 1965. the mesa verde loess, pp. 92-100, _in_ contributions of the wetherill mesa archeological project, memoirs soc. amer. archeol., 19; american antiquity, 31, no. 2, pt. 2. asdell, s. a. 1964. patterns of mammalian reproduction. comstock publ. co., ithaca, viii + 1-670 pp. bailey, v. 1931. mammals of new mexico. n. amer. fauna, 53:1-412, 22 pls., 58 figs. beidleman, r. g. 1954. october breeding of _peromyscus_ in north central colorado. jour. mamm., 35:118. brusven, m. a., and g. b. mulkern 1960. the use of epidermal characteristics for the identification of plants recovered in fragmentary condition from the crops of grasshoppers. north dakota agricultural exp. sta., fargo, research rept., 3:3-11. burt, w. h. 1940. territorial behavior and populations of some small mammals in southern michigan. misc. publ. mus. zool., univ. michigan, 45: 1-58, 2 pls. calhoun, j. b., ed. 1948-1956. annual reports of the north american census of small mammals. distributed by the editor, national institutes of health, bethesda 14, maryland. 1959. population dynamics of vertebrates release no. 10, revised sampling procedure for the north american census of small mammals (nacsm). pp. 1-12, distributed by the editor, nat. inst. health, bethesda 14, maryland. chew, r. m. 1951. the water exchanges of some small mammals. ecological monographs, 21:215-225. 1965. water metabolism of mammals, pp. 43-178, _in_ physiological mammology vol. ii mammalian reactions to stressful environments, mayer, w. v., and r. g. van gelder, eds., academic press, new york, xii + 1-326 pp. cogshall, a. s. 1928. food habits of deer mice of the genus _peromyscus_ in captivity. jour. mamm., 9:217-221. collins, h. h. 1918. studies of normal molt and of artificially induced regeneration of pelage in _peromyscus_. jour. exptl. zool., 27:73-99. dice, l. r. 1922. some factors affecting the distribution of the prairie vole, forest deer mouse, and prairie deer mouse. ecology, 3:29-47. 1934. an improved _peromyscus_ ration. jour. mamm., 15:160-161. douglas, c. l. 1965. biological techniques in archeology, pp. 193-201, _in_ contributions of the wetherill mesa archeological project, memoirs soc. amer. archeol., 19; american antiquity, 31, no. 2, pt. 2. 1966. amphibians and reptiles of mesa verde national park, colorado. univ. kansas publ. mus. nat. hist., 15:711-744, 2 pls., 6 figs. dusi, j. l. 1949. methods for the determination of food habits by plant microtechnique and histology and their application to cottontail rabbit food habits. jour. wildlife mgt., 13:295-298 erdman, j. a. 1962. ecology of the pinyon-juniper woodland of wetherill mesa, mesa verde national park, colorado. unpublished m. a. thesis, univ. colorado. erdman, j. a., c. l. douglas, and j. w. marr 1968. the environment of mesa verde, mesa verde national park, colorado. archeol. res. series, no. 7-d. nat. park serv., washington, d. c., in press. esau, k. 1960. anatomy of seed plants. john wiley and sons, new york, xvi + 1-376 pp. geiger, r. 1965. the climate near the ground. harvard univ. press, cambridge, mass., xiv + 1-611 pp. hall, e. r. 1928. note on the life history of the woodland deer mouse. jour. mamm., 9:255-256 hamilton, w. j., jr. 1941. the food of small forest mammals in eastern united states. jour. mamm., 22:250-263 hayne, d. w. 1949. calculation of size of home range. jour. mamm., 30:1-18. hoffmeister, d. f. 1951. a taxonomic and evolutionary study of the pinon mouse, _peromyscus truei_. illinois biol. monographs, vol. 21, no. 4, ix + 1-104 pp. horner, b. e. 1954. arboreal adaptations of peromyscus with special reference to use of the tail. cont. lab. vert. biol., univ. michigan, 61:1-85. howard, w. e. 1950. winter fecundity of caged male white-footed mice in michigan. jour. mamm., 31:319-321. jameson, e. w., jr. 1952. food of deer mice _peromyscus maniculatus_ and _p. boylei_ in the northern sierra nevada, california. jour. mamm., 33:50-60. 1953. reproduction of deer mice (_peromyscus maniculatus_ and _p. boylei_) in the sierra nevada, california. jour. mamm., 34:44-58. johnson, d. r. 1962. effects of habitat change on the food habits of rodents. abstract of ph. d. dissertation, colorado state univ., ft. collins. lang, h. 1925. how squirrels and other rodents carry their young. jour. mamm., 6:18-24. lindeborg, r. g. 1950. an adaptation of breeding _peromyscus maniculatus bairdii_ females to available water, and observations on changes in body weight. jour. mamm., 31:74-78. 1952. water requirements of certain rodents from xeric and mesic habitats. cont. lab. vert. biol., univ. michigan, 58:1-32. mccabe, t. t., and b. d. blanchard 1950. three species of _peromyscus_. rood associates, santa barbara, california, v + 1-136 pp. metcalfe, c. r., and l. chalk 1950. anatomy of the dicotyledons i and ii. clarendon press, oxford, 1500 pp. mohr, c. o., and w. a. stumpf 1966. comparison of methods for calculating areas of animal activity. jour. wildlife mgt., 30:293-304. osgood, w. h. 1909. revision of the mice of the american genus _peromyscus_. n. amer. fauna, 28:1-285, 8 pls., 12 figs. redman, j. p., and j. a. sealander 1958. home ranges of deer mice in southern arkansas. jour. mamm., 39:390-395. ross, l. g. 1930. a comparative study of daily water-intake among certain taxonomic and geographic groups within the genus _peromyscus_. biol. bull., 59:326-338. sanderson, g. c. 1966. the study of mammal movements--a review. jour. wildlife mtg., 30:215-235. schmidt-nielsen, k. 1964. desert animals: physiological problems of heat and water. oxford univ. press, london, xv + 1-277 pp. schmidt-nielsen, k., b. schmidt-nielsen, and a. brokaw 1948. urea excretion in desert rodents exposed to high protein diets. jour. cell. comp. physiol., 32:361-379. scott, t. g., and e. snead 1942. warbles in _peromyscus leucopus noveboracensis_. jour. mamm., 23:94-95. sealander, j. a. 1961. hematological values in deer mice in relation to botfly infection. jour. mamm., 42:57-60. seton, e. t. 1920. notes on the breeding habits of captive deer mice. jour. mamm., 1:134-138. shufeldt, r. w. 1885. description of hesperomys truei, a new species belonging to the subfamily murinae. proc. u. s. nat. mus., 8:403-408, 21 pls. stickel, l. f. 1954. a comparison of certain methods of measuring ranges of small mammals. jour. mamm., 35:1-15. svihla, a. 1932. a comparative life history study of the mice of the genus _peromyscus_. univ. michigan mus. zool., misc. publ., 24:1-39. test, f. h., and a. r. test 1943. incidence of dipteran parasitosis in populations of small mammals. jour. mamm., 24:506-508. welsh, s. l., and j. a. erdman 1964. annotated checklist of the plants of mesa verde, colorado. brigham young univ. sci. bull., biol. ser., 4(2):1-32. williams, o. 1955. the food of mice and shrews in a colorado montane forest. univ. colorado studies, ser. in biol., 3:109-114. 1959a. food habits of the deer mouse. jour. mamm., 40:415-419. 1959b. water intake in the deer mouse. jour. mamm., 40:602-606. 1959c. modified gum syrup. turtox news, vol. 37, no. 10. wilson, l. w. 1945. parasites collected from wood mouse in west virginia. jour. mamm., 26:200. * * * * * transcriber's notes all obvious typographic errors corrected. the notation [=y] in table 10 represents the mean value for that column. the notation h_{2}o represents the water molecule where the _{2} represents the subscripted 2. the notation 8-1/2 represents 8 and one half. page correction ==== ============== 429 nuaseosus => nauseosus 430 orthocarpos => orthocarpus 450 ludovociana => ludoviciana 456 phrheliometer => pyrheliometer 480 rudale => ruderale 481 rates => rats 482 bases => basis 499 clumbs => clumps tip lewis and his lamp by pansy author of "ester ried," "ester ried yet speaking," "mrs. solomon smith looking on," "an endless chain," "four girls at chautauqua," etc. etc. tip lewis and his lamp. chapter i. "cast thy bread upon the waters." the room was very full. children, large and small, boys and girls, and some looking almost old enough to be called men and women, filled the seats. the scholars had just finished singing their best-loved hymn, "happy land;" and the superintendent was walking up and down the room, spying out classes here and there which were without teachers, and supplying them from the visitors' seat, which was up by the desk. the long seat near the door was filled this morning by half a dozen dirty, ragged, barefooted boys; their teacher's seat was vacant, and those boys looked, every one, as though they had come thither just to have a grand frolic. oh, such bright, cunning, wicked faces as they had! their torn pants and jackets, their matted hair, even the very twinkle in their eyes, showed that they were the "mission class." that is, the class which somebody had gathered from the little black, comfortless-looking houses which thronged a narrow back street of that village, and coaxed to come to the sabbath school,--to this large, light, pleasant room, where the sun shone in upon little girls in white dresses, with blue and pink ribbons fluttering from their shoulders; and upon little boys, whose snowy linen collars and dainty knots of black ribbon had evidently been arranged by careful hands that very morning. but those boys in the corner kicked their bare heels together, pulled each other's hair, or laughed in each other's faces in the greatest good humour. the superintendent stopped before them. "well, boys, good morning; glad to see you all here. where's your teacher?" "hain't got none!" answered one, "gone to guinea!" said another. "she was afraid of us," explained a third. "tip, here, put his foot through one of her lace flounces last sunday. tip's the worst boy we've got, anyhow." the boys all seemed to think this was very funny, for they laughed so loudly that the little girls at their right looked over to see what was the matter. tip ran his fingers through his uncombed hair, and laughed with the rest. "well," said the superintendent, "i'm going to get you a teacher,--one you will like, i guess. i shall expect you to treat her well." there was just one person left on the visitors' seat,--a young lady who looked shy and quiet. "oh, mr. parker," she said, when the superintendent told her what he wanted, "i can't take that class; i've watched those boys ever since they came in,--they look mischievous enough for anything, and act as they look." "then shall we leave them with nothing but mischief to take up their attention?" "no, but--they really ought to have a better teacher than i,--some one who knows how to interest them." "but, miss perry, the choice lies between you and no one." and, while she still hesitated and looked distressed, mr. parker bent forward a little, and said softly,-"'inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it not to me.'" the lady rose quickly, and gathered her mantle about her. "i will go, mr. parker," she said, speaking quickly, as if afraid her courage would fail her. "since there is no one else, i will do the best i can; but oh, i am afraid!" down the long room, past the rows of neatly-dressed, attentive children, mr. parker led her to the seat near the door. "now, boys," said he, "this is miss perry. suppose you see if you can't all be gentlemen, and treat her well." miss perry sat down in the teacher's chair, her heart all in a flutter. she taught a class in her own sabbath school hundreds of miles away,--five rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed little girls gathered around her every sabbath; but they were little girls whose mothers had taught them to love their lessons, to listen respectfully to what their teacher said, to bow their heads reverently in prayer; and more than that, they loved her, and she loved them. but these boys! still she must say something: six pairs of bright, roguish eyes, brimful of fire and fun, were bent on her. "boys," she said gently, "have you any lessons for me?" "not much," answered bob turner, who always spoke first. "we don't get lessons mostly. don't come unless it's too hot to go fishing or berrying." "tip comes 'cause he's too lazy to go past the door," "i don't!" drawled out the boy they called tip; "i come to get out of the sun; it's hotter than sixty down home." "never mind, boys," said their frightened teacher; for they were all laughing now, as though the funniest thing in the world had happened. "see here, since you have no lessons, shall i tell you a story?" oh yes, they were willing enough to hear a story, if it wasn't stupid. "i'll tell you something that happened to a boy when he was about thirteen years old. his name is robert; he told me this story himself, so you may be sure it's true. "he said one evening he was walking slowly down the main street of the village where he lived"-"where was that?" asked bob turner. "oh, it was away out west. he said he felt cross and unhappy; he had nowhere in particular to go, and nothing to do. as he walked, he came to a turn where two roads met. 'now,' thought he, 'shall i turn to the left and go home, and hang around until bed-time, or shall i turn to the right and go down to the river awhile?' "you see, robert hadn't a happy home,--his mother was dead, and his father was a drunkard. "while he stood thinking, a boy came around the other corner, and called out,-"going home, rob?' "'don't know,' said robert; 'i can't make up my mind.' "'suppose you come on down to our house, and we'll have a game of ball?' "still robert waited. he was fond of playing ball,--that was certain,--and he liked company better than to walk alone; why he should think of wandering off down to the river by himself he was sure he didn't know. still something seemed to keep saying to him, 'go this way--turn to the right; come, go to the river, 'until he said at last,-"'no; i guess i'll take a walk this way first.' "and he turned the corner, then he was but a few steps from the river." "what came of the other fellow?" asked bob. "why, some more boys came up just then, and he walked along with them. "there was a large elm-tree on the river bank, and there was one particular spot under it that robert called his seat; but he found a gentleman seated there this time; he had a book in his hand, partly closed, and he was leaning back against a tree, watching the sunset. "he looked around as he heard robert's step, and said, 'good evening; will you have a seat?' "he moved along, and robert sat down on the grass near him; then he said,-"'i heard a boy call out to another just now, "going home, robert?" are you the boy?' "'no,' said robert; 'hal carter screamed that out to me just as he came round the corner.' "'oh, you are the one he was talking to. well, i'll ask you the same question. _are_ you going home?' "'no,' said robert again; 'i have just walked straight away from home.' "'yes; but are you going up _there_?' and the gentleman pointed up to the blue sky. 'that's the home i mean; i've just been reading about it; this river made me think of it. where it says, you know, "and he showed me a pure river of water, clear as crystal." then it goes on to describe the city with its "gates of pearl" and "streets of gold," the robes and crowns that the people wear, the harps on which they play, and, after this warm day, i couldn't help thinking that one of the pleasantest things about this home was the promise, "neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat." aren't you going to that home, my boy?'" "'i don't know,' robert said, feeling very much astonished." at this point the superintendent's bell rang, and miss perry had to hasten her story. "i haven't time, boys, to tell you all the gentleman said, but, after that talk, robert began to think about these things a great deal, and pretty soon he learned to read the bible and to pray. that was more than fifty years ago. he is an old minister now; i have heard him preach a great many times; and he told me once he should always believe god put it into his heart to turn to the right that evening, instead of the left." "oh!" exclaimed tip, just here; and miss perry stopped. "joe pinched me," said tip, to explain his part of the noise. but their teacher felt very badly; they had not listened to her story as though they cared to hear it; they had slid up and down the seat, pulled and pinched and pricked each other, and done a great many mischievous things since she commenced; and yet now and then they seemed to hear a few words; so she kept on, because she did not know what else to do. "oh, mr. parker," she said, when the school was dismissed, and her noisy class had scrambled, some through the window and some through the door, "some man who understands boys ought to have had that class; i haven't done them any good, but i tried;" and there were tears in her eyes as she spoke. "you did what you could," said the superintendent kindly; "none of us can do more." some loving voice ought to have whispered in that teacher's ear, "he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." chapter ii. "but other fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit." tip lewis yawned and stretched, and finally opened his eyes rather late on monday morning. "oh, bother!" he said, with another yawn, when he saw how the sun was pouring into the room; "i suppose a fellow has got to get up. i wish getting up wasn't such hard work,--spoils all the fun of going to bed; but then the old cat will be to pay, if i don't get around soon." and with this he rolled out; and when he was dressed, which was in a very few minutes after he tumbled out of his ragged bed, he was the self-same tip who had been at the bottom of most of the mischief in miss perry's class the day before,--the very same, from the curly hair, not yet combed nor likely to be, down to the bare, soiled feet. the bed which he had just left, so far as neatness was concerned, looked very much like tip, and the room looked like the bed; and they all looked about as badly as dust and rags and poverty could make them look. after running his fingers through his hair, by way of finishing his toilet, tip made his way down the rickety stairs to the kitchen. it seemed as though that kitchen was just calculated to make a boy feel cross. the table stood against the wall on its three legs, the tablecloth was daubed with molasses and stained with gravy; a plate, with something in it which looked like melted lard, but which tip's mother called butter, and a half loaf of bread, were the only eatable articles as yet on the table; and around these the flies had gathered in such numbers, that it almost seemed as though they might carry the loaf away entirely, if too many of them didn't drown themselves in the butter. over all the july sun poured in its rays from the eastern window, the only one in the room. tip stumbled over his father's boots, and made his way to the stove, where his mother was bending over a spider of sizzling pork. "well," she said, as he came near, "did you get up for all day? i'd be ashamed--great boy like you--to lie in bed till this time of day, and let your mother split wood and bring water to cook your breakfast with." "you cooked, a little for you, too, didn't you?" asked tip, in a saucy, good-natured tone. "where's father?" "just where you have been all day so far,--in bed and asleep. such folks as i've got! i'm sick of living." and mrs. lewis stepped back from the steaming tea-kettle, and wiped great beads of perspiration from her forehead; then fanned herself with her big apron, looking meantime very tired and cross. yet tip's mother was not so cross after all as she seemed; had tip only known it, her heart was very heavy that morning. she did not blame his father for his morning nap, not a bit of it; she was only glad that the weary frame could rest a little after a night of pain. she had been up since the first grey dawn of morning, bathing his head, straightening the tangled bedclothes, walking the floor with the restless baby, in order that her husband might have quiet. oh no; there were worse women in the world than mrs. lewis; but this morning her life looked very wretched to her. she thought of her idle, mischievous boy; of her naughty, high-tempered little girl; of her fat, healthy baby, who took so much of her time; of her husband, who, though she never said it to him, or even to herself, yet she knew and felt was every day growing weaker; and with these came the remembrance that her own tired hands were all that lay between them and want; and it is hardly a wonder that her voice was sharp and her words ill chosen. for this mother tried to bear all her trials alone; she never went for help to the redeemer, who said,-"come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden." "wah!" said johnny, from his cradle in the bit of a bedroom near the kitchen,--which kitchen was all the room they had, save two tiny bedrooms and tip's little den up-stairs. mrs. lewis glanced quickly towards the door of her husband's room; it was closed. then she called,-"kitty, make that baby go to sleep!" "oh yes!" muttered kitty, who sat on the floor lacing her old shoe with a white cord; "it's easy to say that, but i'd just like to see you do it." "ah yah!" answered johnny from the cradle, as though he tried to say, "so should i." then, not being noticed, he gave up pretending to cry, and screamed in good earnest, loud, positive yells, which brought his mother in haste from the kitchen. "ugly girl!" she said to kitty, as she lifted the conquering hero from his cradle; "you don't care how soon your father is waked out of the only nap he has had all night. why didn't you rock the cradle? i've a notion to whip you this minute!" "i did," answered kitty sulkily; "and he opened his eyes at me as wide as he could stretch them." crash! went something at that moment in the kitchen; and, with johnny in her arms, mrs. lewis ran back to see what new trouble she had to meet. tip, meantime, had been in business; being hungry, he had cut a slice of bread from the loaf, and, in the act of reaching over to help himself to some butter, hit his arm against a pitcher of water standing on the corner of the table. over it went and broke, just as pitchers will whenever they get a chance. this was too much for the tired mother's patience; what little she had vanished. she tossed the slice of bread at tip, and as she did so, said,-"there! take that and be off. don't let me see a sight of your face again to-day. march this instant, or you will wish you had!" and in the midst of the din, while his mother looked after the pork, which had seized this occasion for burning fast to the spider, tip managed to spread his slice of bread, find his hat, and make good his escape from the comfortless home. there was an hour yet to school-time; or, for the matter of that, he might have the whole day. tip went to school, or let it alone, just as he pleased. he made his way straight to his favourite spot, the broad, deep pond, and laid himself down on its grassy bank to chat with the fishes. "my!" he said; "how nice they look whisking about. it's cool down there, i know; they don't mind the sun. i wish i had my fish-pole here, i'd have one of them shiny big fellows there for my dinner; only it's too hot to fish, and it would seem kind of mean, besides, to get him up here in this blazing sun. hang me if i make even a fish get out of the water to-day, when it can stay in!" of all the scholars in miss perry's class, the one who she would have said paid the least attention was this same boy who was lying on his face by the pond, envying the fishes. yet tip had heard nearly every word she said; and now, as he looked into the water, which lay cool in the shade of some broad, branching trees, there came into his heart the music of those words again,-"neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat." "i declare," he said, as the meaning of those words dawned upon him, "i'd like that! they'll never be too warm again. it was a pretty nice story she told us about that boy. he couldn't have had a very good time; his father was a drunkard. i wish i knew just about what kind of a fellow he was; he turned right square round after that man talked to him. now he is a minister; i suppose lots of people like him. it must be kind of nice, the whole of it. i would like to be somebody, as true as i live, i would. i'd like to have the people say, 'there goes tip lewis; he's the best boy in town.' bless me! that would be funny; i don't believe they could ever say it; they are so used to calling me the worst, they couldn't help it. what if i should reform? i declare i don't know but i will." and tip rolled over on his back, and looked up into the blue, cloudless sky; lying there, he certainly had some of the most sober thoughts, perhaps the only really sober ones he had ever known in his life. and when at last he slowly picked himself up, turned his back upon the darting fishes, and walked towards the school-house, he had in his mind some vague notion that perhaps he would be different from that time forth. just what he was going to do, or how to commence doing it, he didn't know; but the story, to which he had seemed not to listen at all, had crept into his heart, had commenced its work; very dimly was it working, very blindly he might grope for a while, but the seed sown had taken root. chapter iii. "inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me." around the corner, and far up the street from where tip lewis lived, there stood a large white house; not another house in the village was so beautiful as this. many a time had tip walked slowly by the place, and cast the most admiring glances on the broad green lawns and bubbling fountain, of which he caught; glimpses from the road. often he had stood outside, at the great gate, and fairly _longed_ for a nearer view of that same fountain; for the truth was, though he was such a rough, mischief-making,--yes, a _wicked_ boy, down in his heart he had a great love for beautiful things. on this fourth of july morning, tip was up and abroad very early. he held a horse, which had been so frightened by fire-crackers that it wouldn't stand still a minute, and the owner of it gave him ten cents, with which he immediately bought fire-crackers for himself, and frightened the very next horse he saw. when the great cannon on the hill was fired, he got in the way, just as much as he knew how, which was a great deal; he contrived to be around when the largest bell was rung, and add his voice to the uproar among the boys who were gathered around the church doors; indeed, wherever there was commotion or confusion, tip managed very soon to be, and to do his part towards making the most of it. about ten o'clock he had lived out the most of his pleasures, having been on hand since a little after three. he had no more money to spend, saw no chance of getting any more; he had had no breakfast, and was very much in doubt as to whether he would get any, if he took the trouble to go home; he had some way lost track of all his companions; and, altogether, he was beginning to feel as if the fourth of july were a humbug. he felt ill-used, angry; it seemed to him that he was being cheated out of a good time that he expected to have. he sat down on the edge of an old sugar-barrel and thought about it a while; then finally, with his hands in his pockets, and whistling "yankee doodle" in honour of the day, he sauntered along the street in search of something to take up his time. hurrying towards him, with hands not in his pockets, but full of packages, came mr. mintum, the owner of the grand white house on the hill. to tip's surprise, the gentleman halted suddenly before him, and, eyeing him closely, asked, "whose boy are you?" "john lewis's." "where do you live?" "t'other side of the pond, by the mill." "oh, your father is the carpenter, i suppose,--i know him. what's your name?" "tip." "tip! what kind of a name is that? is it all the one you own?" "well," said tip, "i suppose my name was edward when i was a little shaver; but nobody knows it now; i don't myself." "well, tip, then, i'll call you that, for i want you to know yourself to-night. what are you going to do?" "when? to-night? oh, hang around, i s'pose,--have some fun, if i can find any." "fun. is that what you're after? you come up to my house to-night at dark, and see if you can find it there. we are going to have fireworks, and songs, and all the fun we can." tip was not by any means a bashful boy, and it took a great deal to astonish him; but this sudden invitation almost took his breath away. the idea that mr. minturn had actually invited _him_, tip lewis, to come to the white house!--to come near to that wonderful fountain, near enough perhaps to feel the dash of its spray! he could have danced for joy; yet, when mr. minturn said, "well, will you come?" for the first time in his life he was known to stammer and hesitate. "i--i don't--know. i haven't got any clothes." "clothes!" repeated mr. minturn; "what do you call those things which you have on?" "i call 'em _rags_, sir," answered tip, his embarrassment gone, and the mischief twinkling back into his face again. mr. minturn laughed, and looked down on the torn jacket and pants. "not a bad name," he said at last. "but you've got water at your house, haven't you?" "lots of it." "then put your head into a tub of it, and a clean face up to my house to-night, and we'll try and find that fun you're looking for." and mr. minturn, who had spent a great deal of time for him, was passing on. "see here!" he called, after he had moved forward a few steps; "if you see any boy raggeder than you are yourself, bring him along,--bring every boy and girl you meet who haven't anywhere else to go." "ho!" said tip, as soon as the gentleman was at safe distance; "if this isn't rich, then i don't know,--fireworks in that great yard, pretty near the fountain maybe, and lots of fun. we can take anybody we like. i know what i'll do. i'll hunt up bob turner; his jacket has got enough sight more holes in it than mine has. oh, ho! ain't it grand, though?" and tip clapped his hands and whistled, and at last, finding that didn't express his feeling, said, "hurrah!" in a good strong tone. yes, hurrah! tip is right; it is glorious to think that one man out of his abundance is going to open his heart, and gather in god's poor, and, for one evening at least, make them happy. god bless mr. minturn! never had the good man's grounds entertained such a group as, from all quarters of the large town, gathered before it was quite dark. ragged boys and girls! if those were what be wanted, he had them, sure enough, of almost every age and size. there were some not so ragged,--some in dainty white dresses and shining jackets; but they went down and mingled with the others,--brothers and sisters for that night at least,--and were all, oh, _so_ happy! how they _did_ dance and laugh and scream around that fountain, and snap torpedoes and fire-crackers, and shout with wild delight when the rockets shot up into the sky, or the burning wheels span round and round, scattering showers of real fire right in among the crowds of children! well, the evening hasted away; the very last rocket took its bright, rushing way up into the blue sky; and mr. minturn gathered his company around the piazza with the words,-"now, children, mr. holbrook has a few words to say to you, and after that, as soon as we have sung a hymn, it will be time to go home." mr. holbrook was the minister; many of the children knew him well, and most of them were ready to hear what he had to say, because they knew, by experience, that he was old enough and wise enough not to make a long, dry speech after nine o'clock on the fourth of july. only tip, as he turned longingly away from the last dying spark of the rocket, muttered, "bother the preaching!" mr. holbrook came forward to the steps, as the boys and girls gathered around him. "children," said he, "we have had a good time, haven't we?" "yes, sir!" came in a loud chorus from many voices. "yes; i thought you acted as though you felt pretty happy. now this has been a busy day, and we are all tired, so i'm not going to keep you here to make a speech to you; i just want to tell you, in as few words as i can, what i have been thinking about since i stood here to-night. i have watched you as you frolicked around that fountain,--so many young, bright faces, all looking so happy,--and i said to myself, when the time comes for us to gather around that fountain of living water which is before the throne of god, i wonder if _one_ of these boys and girls will be missing--_one_ of them? oh, children, i pray god that you may _all_ be there, _every_ one." just a little speech it was,--so little that the youngest there might almost remember the whole of it,--yet it meant _so_ much. tip lewis had wedged his way in among the boys until he stood very near the minister, and his face wore a sober, thoughtful look. it was only two days since his long talk with himself at the pond. fourth of july, with all the merrymaking and mischief that it brought to him, had nearly driven sober thoughts from his mind, but the minister's solemn words brought back the memory of his half-formed resolves, and again he said to himself he believed he would reform; this time he added that if he knew about _how_ to do it, he would begin right away. he felt it more than ever when the sweet voices of many children floated out on the evening air, as they sang,- "i have read of a world of beauty, where there is no gloomy night, where love is the mainspring of duty, and god is the fountain of light. i have read of the flowing river that bursts from beneath the throne, and beautiful flowers that ever are found on its banks alone. i long--i long--i long to be there!" if somebody had only known tip's thoughts as he stood there listening to the beautiful sabbath school hymn! if somebody had only bent down to him, and whispered a few words, just to set his poor wandering feet into the narrow way, how blessed it would have been: but nobody did. ah, never mind! god knew, and took care of him. chapter iv. "they that seek me shall find me." mrs. lewis's room was in order for once; swept, and even dusted; the cook-stove cooled off, and the green paper curtain at the window let down, to shut out the noise and dust; it was quiet there too. kitty stood in the open door, her face and hands clean, hair combed, and dress mended; stood quite still, and with a sober face, unmindful, for once, that there were butterflies to chase and flies to kill all around her. in the only comfortable seat in the room, a large old-fashioned arm-chair, sat the worn, wasted frame of kitty's father. there was a look of hopeless sadness settled on his face. neither tip nor his mother were to be seen. one or two women were moving through the house, with quiet steps, bringing in chairs and doing little thoughtful things in and about that wonderfully orderly room. on the table was that which told the whole story of this unusual stillness and preparation. it was a pine coffin, very small and plain; and in it, with folded hands and brown hair rolled smoothly back from his baby forehead, little johnny lay, asleep. somebody, with a touch of tenderness, had placed a just budding rose in the tiny white hand, and baby looked very sweet and beautiful in his narrow bed. poor little johnny! his had been a sad, neglected babyhood; many weary hours had he spent in his cradle, receiving only cross looks from kitty, and neglected by the mother, who, though she loved johnny, and even because she loved him, must leave him to work for her daily bread. but it was all over now: johnny's cries would never disturb them again; johnny's weary little body rested quietly in its coffin; johnny's precious self was gathered in the saviour's arms. tip came out of the bedroom, and softly approached the coffin; his hair, too, was partly combed, and some attempt had been made to put his ragged clothes in order. his heart swelled, and the tears gathered in his eyes, as they rested on the baby. tip loved his little brother, and though he had not had much to do with him, yet he had this much to comfort him,--johnny had received only kindness and good-natured words from him, which was more than kitty could say. as she stood there in the door, it seemed to her that every time she had ever said cross, naughty words to the poor baby, or turned away from his pitiful cry for comfort, or shook his little helpless self, came back to her now,--stood all around his coffin, and looked straight at her. poor kitty thought if he could _only_ come back to them for a little while, she would hold him in her arms all night, without a murmur. people began to come in now from the lowly houses about them, and fill the empty chairs. mrs. lewis came out from the bedroom, and sat down beside the arm-chair, thankful that her tear-stained face and swollen eyes were hidden, by the thick black veil which some thoughtful neighbour had sent for her use. in a few minutes a dozen or more people had filled up the vacant spaces in the little room, and mr. holbrook arose from his seat at the coffin's head. tip turned quickly at the first sound of his voice, and listened eagerly while he read from the book in his hand, "and i saw the dead, small and great, stand before god," listening until the closing sentence was read, "and there shall be no more death; neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away." tip had never paid such close attention to anything in his life as he did to mr. holbrook's words; after that they were very simple and plain spoken, so that a child might understand them, and were about heaven, that beautiful city of which tip had heard and thought more during the last three weeks than he ever had in his life before. his heart had been in a constant struggle with satan, ever since that morning in the sabbath school. he didn't know enough to understand that it was satan's evil voice which was constantly persuading him that he could not be anybody, that-he was only a poor, miserable, ragged boy, with nobody to help him, nobody to show him what to do; that he might as well not try to be anything but what he was; and he didn't know either that the other voice in his heart which struggled with the evil counsel, which said to him, "other boys as poor and ignorant as you are have reformed; that robert did about whom the teacher told you; and then, if you don't, you will never see that river nor the fountain, nor the streets of gold," was the dear, loving voice of his redeemer. now, as he listened to mr. holbrook, and heard how johnny, little johnny whom he loved, had surely gone up there to be with christ for ever, and how jesus, looking down on the father and mother, and the children who were left, said to them, "i want you, too, to give me your hearts, so that when i gather my jewels i may come for you." the weak, struggling resolves in his heart grew strong, and he said within himself, while the tears fell slowly down his cheeks, "i will; i'll begin to-day." the coffin-lid was screwed down, and johnny's baby-face shut out from them for ever. a man came forward and took the light burden in his arms, and bore it out to the waggon; down the narrow street they drove, to the burial-ground, which was not far away. they laid johnny down to sleep under the shade of a large old tree; and the grass waved softly, and the birds sang low, and the angels surely sang in heaven, because another little form was numbered among the thousands of children who stand "around the throne." the people moved slowly from the grave,--all but tip; he didn't want to leave johnny; he wanted to follow him, and he didn't know how. mr. holbrook glanced back at the boy standing there alone, paused a moment, then, turning back, laid his hand gently on tip's shoulder. "you can go up there too, my boy, if you will," he said, in a low, kind tone. tip looked up quickly, then down again; he wanted to ask how--what he should do; but his voice choked, he could not speak a word; and with the earnest sentence, "god bless you, my little friend, and lead you to himself," mr. holbrook turned and left him. tip wandered away into the woods for a little. when he returned the earth was heaped up fresh and black over the new mound, and johnny was left underneath it all alone. tip walked around it slowly, trying to take in the thought that the baby was lying there; that they should never see him again; trying, a moment after, to take in the thought that he was not there at all, but had gone up to the beautiful world which the hymn told about; then he thought of the chorus, and almost felt it.--"i long, i long, i long to be there." tip had heard people pray; he had been to sabbath school often enough to catch and remember most of the words of the lord's prayer; he knew enough of god to understand that he could hear prayer, and that his help must be asked if one wanted to get to heaven. he hesitated a moment, glanced half fearfully around him,--no one was there, no one but himself, and johnny, lying low at his feet, and god looking down upon him. presently he knelt down before the little grave, and began,-"our father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come"--then he stopped. tip was in earnest now; he did not understand that prayer: he felt as though he was not saying what he meant. he commenced again,-"oh, jesus, i want"--then he waited a minute. what did he want? "i want to be different; i'm a wicked boy. i want to go where johnny is when i die. do show me how!" did jesus ever fail to hear such a prayer as that,--simple, earnest, every word of it _felt? never_--and he never will. tip rose up from that spot feeling that something was different. ay, and always would be different; the saviour had reached down and taken hold of the young seeker's hand, and would for ever after lead him up toward god. chapter v. "thy word is a lamp to my feet." the sabbath morning sun awoke tip from a heavy sleep. he lay still a few moments, thinking who he was. things were different: he was not simply tip lewis, a ragged little street boy, any longer; this was the morning when he was going to start out under a new motto, with jesus for his guide. he was going to sabbath school. he had not been since the morning that miss perry had taught the class, and told the story which was to be a blessing to him through all his future life. his evil spirit had been strong upon him during the three sabbath mornings that had passed since then, and persuaded him to stay away from the school, but this morning he was resolved to go. he had a secret hope that he should see miss perry again, for he did not know that she was hundreds of miles away from that village, and would probably never be there again; all he knew was, that a gentleman had brought her to the door, and introduced her to the superintendent as miss perry; that much he heard as he sat gazing at them. this morning he judged by the sun that it was pretty late, yet he didn't get on very fast with the business of dressing: he sat down on the foot of the bed, and looked sorrowfully at his jacket; he even turned it inside out to see if it wouldn't improve its appearance, but he shook his head, and speedily turned it back again. if he "only had a collar," he said to himself,--"a smooth white collar, to turn down over the worn-out edges,--it would make things look _so_ much better." but that was something he had never had in his life, and he put on the old ragged brown jacket with a sigh. then he put on his shoes, and took them off again: the question was, which looked the best,--shoes which showed every one of his toes peeping out on the top, or no shoes at all? suddenly a bright idea struck him: if his feet were only white and clean, he thought they would certainly look much better. down he went to the rickety pump in the back yard, and face, hands, and feet took such a washing as they had never received before; then the old comb had to do duty. tip had never had such a time getting dressed; but, some way, he felt a great longing this morning to make himself look neatly; he had a feeling that it was ever so much more respectable to be neat and clean than it was to go looking as he had always done. still, to carry a freshly-washed face and hands and smooth hair was the very best he could do; and, if he had but known it, these things made a great improvement. he made his way half shyly into the mission seat, for the truth was he did not know just how the boys would receive his attempt at respectability; but he had no trouble, for several of his companions had seen his face when he took his last look into that little coffin the day before, and they felt sorry for him. no miss perry appeared; and it seemed, at first, that the mission boys were to have no teacher. it was a warm morning, and the visitors' seat was vacant. but there was at last a great nudging of elbows, and whispers of "look out now!" "we're in a scrape!" "no chance for fun today!" and only tip's eyes looked glad when holbrook halted before their class, with "good morning, boys." then, "good morning edward; i am glad to see you here to-day;" and the minister actually held out his hand to tip. mr. holbrook never called him tip; he had asked him one morning what his real name was, and since then had spoken it, "edward," in clear, plain tones. it was a restless, wearying class. it required all mr. holbrook's wits and wisdom to keep them in any sort of order, to gain any part of their attention. yet it was not as bad as usual; partly because the minister knew how, if anybody did, to teach just such boys, and partly because tip, hitherto the spirit of all the mischief there, never took his eyes from the teacher's face. mr. holbrook watched his close attention, and took courage. when the other scholars passed out, he laid his hand on tip's arm, with the words, "you have been a good listener to-day, edward, did you understand the story i told, of the boy who started on a journey to the holy land?" "some of it i did: you meant that he started for heaven." "you understand it, i see. don't you want to take that journey?" "i mean to, sir." "'help thou mine unbelief,'" was mr. holbrook's prayer just then. he had hoped for, longed for, prayed for these boys, especially for this one since the day before; yet he was astonished when he received the firm, prompt answer, "i mean to, sir,"--astonished, as too many are, that his prayer was heard. "have you started, my boy?" he asked, speaking with a little tremble in his voice. "yes, sir, i've tried; i told god last night that i would, but i don't much know how." "you want a lamp, don't you?" "a what, sir?" "a lamp. you remember in the story the boy found dark places every little way; then he took out his lamp, so he couldn't lose the road. don't you need it?" "i want some help, but i don't know as a lamp would do me any good." "ah yes; the one i mean will surely help you, if you give it a chance." mr. holbrook took from his pocket a small, red-covered book, and held it up. "do you know what book this is?" he asked. "it's a bible, ain't it?" "yes. have you ever read in the bible?" "some, at school." "you know, then, that god told men just what to say, and they wrote it here, so you see that makes it god's words; that is what we call it sometimes,--the word of god. now, let me show you something." he turned the leaves rapidly, then pointed with his finger to a verse; and tip read, "thy word is a lamp to my feet." "oh," he said, with a bright look, "that is the kind of lamp you mean!" "that is it; and, my boy, i want you to take this for your lamp. there is no place on the whole road so dark but that it can light you through, if you try it. when you don't understand it, there is always jesus to go to, you know." and, taking out his pencil, mr. holbrook wrote on the fly-leaf, in plain, round letters, "edward lewis." then, handing the book to him, with a bow and smile, the minister turned away. tip walked out of the school and down the road, holding his treasure closely. such a queer, new feeling possessed him. things were really to be different, then. the minister had talked with him, had shaken hands with him, and given him a bible. and here he was walking quietly away from the school, all alone, instead of leading a troop of noisy boys, intent on mischief. "oh, tip lewis," he said to himself, as he hugged his book, "i don't know but you will be somebody, after all; you mean to try with all your might, don't you? and you've got a lamp now!" chapter vi. "i will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go. i will guide thee with mine eye." "why," said tip, as he sat on the foot of the bed, turning over the leaves of his bible,--"why, that is the very thing i want. 'i will instruct thee, and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go.' yes, that's exactly it. i want to begin to-day, and do every single thing so different from what i ever did before, that nobody will know me. now, if he'll help me, i can do it. i'll learn that verse." the verse was repeated many times over, for tip was not used to study. while he was busy thus, the spirit of god put another thought into his heart. "i must ask christ to help me now," he said, with reverent face; and, kneeling down, he made known his wants in very simple words, and in that plain, direct way which god loves. then he went down--stairs, prepared for whatever should befall him that day. kitty was up, and rattling the kitchen stove. "kitty, what's to pay?" tip asked, as he appeared in the door. "what's to pay with you? how did you happen to get up?" receiving no answer to this, she continued, "the old cat is to pay,--everywhere,--and always is! these nasty shavings are soaked through and through, and the wood is rotten,--and there isn't any wood anyway,--and i can't make this fire burn to save my life. mother is sick in bed,--can't sit up at all. she told me to make a cup of tea for father, and things look as if it would get made some time next month." kitty was only twelve years old, but, like most of those children who have been left to bring themselves up, and pick up wisdom and wickedness wherever they are to be found, she was wonderfully old in mind; and was so used to grumbling and snarling, that she could do it very rapidly. "oh," said tip to himself, drawing a long breath, "what a place for me to commence in!" then he came bravely to kitty's aid. "see here, kitty, don't make such a rattling; you'll wake father. i can make this fire in a hurry. i have made one out of next to nothing, lots of times; you just put some water in the tea-kettle, and we'll have a cup of tea in a jiff." kitty stood still in her astonishment, and watched him while he took out the round green sticks that she had put in, laid in bits of dry paper and bits of sticks,--laid them in such a careless, uneven way, that it seemed to her they would never burn in the world; only he speedily proved that they would, by setting fire to the whole, and they crackled and snapped in a most determined manner, and finally roared outright. certainly kitty had never been so much astonished in her life. first, because that rubbish in the stove had been made to become such a positive fire; secondly, that tip had actually set to work without being coaxed or scolded, and made a fire! there was a queer, new feeling about it all to tip himself; for, strange as it may seem, so entirely selfish had been this boy's life, that this was actually the first time he had ever, of his own free will, done anything to help the family at home. his spirits rose with the effort. "come, kitty," he said briskly, "here's your fire. now, let's fly round and get father and mother some breakfast. say, do you know how to make toast?" "it's likely i do," kitty answered shortly. "if you had roasted your face and burnt your fingers as often as i have, making it for father, i guess you would know how." "well, now, just suppose we make two slices,--one for mother, and one for father,--and two cups of tea. my! you and i will be jolly housekeepers, kitty." "humph!" said kitty contemptuously. you see she wasn't in the least used to being good-natured, and it took a great deal of coaxing to make her give other than short, sharp answers to all that was said. but, for all that, she went to work, after tip had poured some water in the dingy little tea-kettle and set it over the fire, cutting the two slices of bread, and getting them ready to toast when there should be any coals. tip, meantime, hunted among the confusion, of all sorts of things in the cupboard, for two clean plates and cups. "you're taken with an awful clean fit, seems to me," kitty said, as she stood watching him while he hunted for a cloth, then carefully wiped off the plates. "yes," answered tip good-naturedly; "i'm going to try it for a spell, and find out how things look after they are washed." altogether it was a queer morning to both of them; and each felt a touch of triumph when at last the toast lay brown and nice, a slice on each plate, and the hot tea, poured into the cups, smelled fresh and fragrant. the two children went softly to the bedroom door in time to hear their father say,-"what makes you try to get up, if your head is so bad?" "oh, what makes me! what else is there for _me_ to do? the young ones are both up, and if i find the roof left on the house i'll be thankful. i never knew them to stay together five minutes without having a battle." at almost any other time in her life these words would have made kitty very angry; but this morning she was intent on not letting her tea spill over on the toast, and so paid very little attention to them. tip marched boldly in with his dish, kitty following. "lie still, mother, till you get some of our tea and toast, and i reckon it will cure you." mrs. lewis raised herself on one elbow, saw the beautiful brown slices, caught a whiff of the fragrant tea, then asked wonderingly,-"who's here?" "kitty and me," tip made answer, proudly and promptly. something very like a smile gathered on mrs. lewis's worn, fretful face. "well, now," she said, "if i ain't beat! it's the last thing on earth i ever expected you to do." what spell had come over tip? breakfast was a great success. after it was over he found a great many things to do; the rusty old axe was hunted up, and some hard knots made to become very respectable-looking sticks of wood, which he piled in the wood-box. kitty, under the influence of his strange behaviour, washed the dishes, and even got out the broom and swept a little. altogether, that was a day long to be remembered by tip, a day in which he began his life afresh. he made some mistakes; for he fancied, in his ignorance, that the struggle was over,--that he had only to go forward joyfully over a pleasant road. he found out his mistake: he discovered that satan had not by any means given him up; that he must yet fight many hard, hard battles. chapter vii. "fear not, for i have redeemed thee." "they must have had an earthquake down at lewis's this morning," howard minturn said to the boys who were gathered around the schoolroom door. "the first bell has not rung yet, and there comes tip up the hill." up the hill came tip, sure enough, with a firm, resolute step. the summer vacation was over. the fall term was to commence this morning, and among the things which tip had resolved to do was this one, to come steadily and promptly to school during the term, which was something that he had never done in his life. the public school was the best one in the village, so he had the best boys in town for school companions, as well as some of the worst. "hallo, tip!" said bob turner, coming partly down the hill to meet him. "how are you, old fellow?" bob had been away during most of the vacation, and knew nothing of the changes which there had been in his absence. tip winced a little at his greeting; shivered a little at the thought of the temptation which bob would be to him. the two had been linked together all their lives in every form of mischief and wrong; they seemed almost a part of each other,--at least, they _had_ seemed so until within these few weeks. now, tip _felt_ rather than knew how far separated they must be. the bell rang, and the boys jostled and tumbled against each other to their seats. bob turner, as usual, seated himself beside tip; but then bob only came to school about two forenoons in a week, so perhaps they might get along. when the bible reading commenced, tip hesitated, and his face flushed; he had never owned a bible to read from before, but this morning his new one lay in his pocket. the question was, had he courage to take it out? what would the boys think? what would they say? how should he answer them? he began to think he would wait until tomorrow morning; then he grew hot and ashamed as he saw that he was already trying to hide his colours. suddenly he drew out his bible, and began very hurriedly to turn the leaves. bob heard the rustling, and, glancing around, puckered his lips as if he were going to whistle, and, snatching the book, read the name which mr. holbrook had written therein; then he whispered, "you don't say so! when did we steal a bible, and turn saint?" the blood growing hotter and redder in tip's cheeks was his only answer; but he felt that his temptation had begun. the next thing was to read; when he had finally found the place, even though there were more than fifty voices reading those same words, yet poor tip imagined that his would be louder than all the rest, and he choked and coughed, and made more than one trial before he forced his voice to join, even in a whisper, at the words, "and they clothed him with purple, and plaited a crown of thorns and put it about his head." it did not help him in his reading that bob made his lips move with the rest, but said, loud enough for him to hear,- "the man in the moon came down too soon," and continued to repeat some senseless or wicked rhymes, through the reading of the beautiful chapter. how thankfully tip bowed his head that morning; his heart had taken in some of the sweet words. that sacred head had been crowned with thorns, indeed, but he knew it was crowned with glory now,--and he knew that christ had suffered and died for him! he joined with his whole heart in mr. burrows's prayer; and, though bob pulled his hair and tickled his foot and stepped on his toes, the bowed head was not lifted, and his spirit gathered strength. but tip never forgot the trials of that day, nor the hard work which he had to endure them. bob was, as usual, overflowing with mischief, and, failing in finding the willing helper which he had expected in his old companion, took revenge in aiming a great many of his pranks at him. such senseless, silly things as he did to annoy! tip spread his slate over with a long row of figures which he earnestly tried to add, and, having toiled slowly up the first two columns, bob's wet finger was slyly drawn across it, and no trace of the answer so hardly earned appeared. then, too, he had his own heart to struggle against: he was so used to whispering to this and that boy seated near him, to eating apples when the teacher's back was turned, to making an ugly-looking picture on a piece of paper and pinning it on the back of a small boy before him. he was so unused to sitting still, and trying to study. what hard work it was to study, any way! it seemed to him that he could never get that spelling-lesson in the world; the harder he tried, the more bewildered he grew. a dozen times he spelled the two words, receive and believe, standing so closely together, each time sure he was right, and each time discovering that the i's and e's must change places; he grew utterly provoked and disheartened, and would have fairly cried, had not bob been beside him to see the tears, and grow merry over them. finally, he lost all patience with bob, and, turning fiercely to him, after he had for the third time pitched the greasy old spelling-book upside down on the floor, said,-"look here, now, if you come that thing again, i'll pitch you out of the window quicker than wink!" "edward lewis marked for whispering," said mr. burrows. "edward, you have commenced the term as usual, i see,--the first one marked for bad conduct." how tip's ears burned! how untrue it was! he had not commenced this term as usual; how differently he had tried to commence it, only he and god knew. and now to fail thus early in the day! his head seemed to spin and his brain reel; he bowed himself on the seat again, but bob's head went down promptly, and he whispered,- "little bo peep has lost her sheep!" how often tip had thought such things as these so very funny that he could not possibly help laughing; how silly and meaningless--yes, and cruel--did they seem to him now! oh, satan was struggling for tip to-day: he was reaping the fruits of long weeks spent in evil company and folly. he looked over to the back seats, where sat howard minturn and ellis holbrook, hard at work on their algebra lesson, nobody thinking of such a thing as disturbing them; and, as he looked, sighed heavily. if he had only gained such a place as they had in the school, how easily he could work to-day. they were very little older than he, yet here he was trying to do an example in addition, doing it over four times before it was right,--and they were at the head of the class in algebra. if he could only jump to where they were, and go on with them! and the hopelessness of this thought made his spelling-lesson seem harder; so it was no wonder, when the class formed, and he took his old place at the foot, and he stayed there, and spelled believe _ei_ after all; nobody was surprised, but nobody knew how very, _very_ hard he had tried. the long day, crowded full of trouble and temptation to poor tip, wore away. at recess he wandered off by himself, trying hard to get back some of the strong, firm hopes of the morning. one more sharp trial was in store for him. towards the close of the afternoon bob's fun took the form of paper balls, which, at every turn of mr. burrows's back, spun through the room in all directions; two or three of the smaller scholars joined him, and a regular fire of balls was kept up. the boys complained--mr. burrows scolded. at last he spoke this short, prompt sentence: "the next boy i catch throwing paper, or anything else, in this room to-day, i shall punish severely; and i shall expect any scholar who sees anything of this kind going on to inform me." not five minutes after that mr. burrows bent over his desk in search of something within, when--whisk! went the largest paper ball that had been thrown that day, and landed on the teacher's forehead. some of the scholars laughed, some looked grave and startled, for mr. burrows was a man who always meant what he said. "does any one know who threw that ball?" he asked, closing his desk and speaking in a calm, steady tone. no reply,--silence for a minute. then, "ellis holbrook, do you know who threw that ball of paper?" "yes, sir." "very well; i am waiting to be told." "tip lewis threw it, sir." this was a little too much for tip. the first time in his life that he had ever been in school all day without throwing one, to be so accused! he sprang up in his seat with fire in his eyes. "i didn't!" he almost screamed. "he knows i didn't! it is a mean, wicked lie!" "sit down," said mr. burrows. "ellis, did you _see_ him throw it?" "yes, sir, i did." mr. burrows turned to tip. "edward, come here." tip was still standing. "say you won't," whispered bob. "say you won't stir a step for the old fellow. if he goes to make you, we'll see who'll beat." but the command was repeated, and tip went forward, fixing his steady eyes on mr. burrows as he spoke. "mr. burrows, as sure as i live, i _did_ not throw that paper ball." and yet--poor tip!--he knew he would not be believed; he knew his word could not be trusted; he knew he had often stood there and as boldly declared what was _not_ true, and what had been proved in a few minutes to be false. no, nobody believed tip. he had earned, among other things in the school, the name of hardly ever speaking the truth; and now he must suffer for it. so he stood still and received the swift, hard blows of the ruler on his hands; stood without a tear or a promise. mr. burrows had not a doubt of his guilt, for had not ellis holbrook, whose word was law in the school, said he saw the mischief done? and did not tip always deny all knowledge of such matters until made to own them? still, this time the boy resolutely refused to confess that he had thrown a bit of paper that day, and went back to his seat with smarting hands and the stern words of his teacher ringing in his ears. what a heavy, bitter heart the poor boy carried out from the schoolroom that afternoon, he felt as though he almost hated every scholar there,--_quite_ hated ellis holbrook. mr. burrows, catching a glimpse of his face, said to one of the other teachers, "that boy grows sullen; with all the rest, his good-nature was the only good thing which he had about him, and he is losing that." tip heard him, and felt that it was true. he had been punished many a time before, and taken it with the most provoking good humour. but to-day it was different; to-day, for the first time in his life, he had received a punishment which he did not deserve; this day of all others, in which he had tried with all his heart to do right! "why didn't you hold on, you simpleton?" bob asked. "never saw you get up so much pluck in my life. what made you back out, and be whipped like a baby?" "why didn't _you_ own that you threw that plaguy paper ball, and not sit there like a coward, and see me take your whipping?" "_i_ own it! that's a good one! 'pon honour, tip, didn't you throw that ball? i thought you did; i was aiming one at ellis holbrook's head just then, and i didn't see what was going on behind me. didn't you throw it--honour bright?" "no, i didn't; and i'll throw _you_ if you say so again." and tip turned suddenly in the opposite direction, but satan still walked with him. "it's no use," said this evil spirit, speaking out boldly,--"it's no use; don't you see it isn't? you might as well give it up first as last; the boys, and the teacher, and every one, think you're nothing in the world but a wicked young scamp, and you never _can_ be anything else. you've been humbugging yourself these four weeks, making believe you had a great friend to help you: why hasn't he helped you to-day? you've tried your best all day long, and he knows you have; yet you never had such a hard day in your life. if he cares anything at all about you, why didn't he help you to-day? you asked him to." tip sat down on a log by the side of the road, and gave himself up for a little to satan's guidance, and the wicked voice went on,-"now, you see, you've been cheated. you've tried hard for a whole month to _be_ somebody, and no one thinks any more of you than they did before, and never will. your mother scolds just as much, and your home looks just as dismal, and kitty is just as hateful, and the respectable boys in the village have nothing to do with you. you might just as well lounge around and have a good time. nobody expects you to be good, or will let you, when you want to be." softly there came another voice knocking at tip's heart. at first he would not notice it, but it _would_ be heard. "what of all that?" it said; "suppose nobody cares for you, or helps you here. jesus died, you know, and he is your friend. you _know_ that is not a humbug; you _know_ he has heard you when you knelt down and prayed. he has helped you. then there's heaven, where all the beauty is, and he has promised to take you--yes, _you_--there by and by! oh, you must not complain because people won't believe that such a bad boy as you have been has grown good so soon. christ knows about it, so it's all right. just keep on trying, and one of these days folks will see that you mean it; they _will_--god has promised. he has given you a lamp to light you. why have not you looked at it all this day?" "oh," said tip, "i can't; i _can't_ be a christian! i have not done right nor felt right to-day. i almost hate the boys, and mr. burrows too. i don't know what to do." "go on home," said satan. "let the lamp and these new notions and all _go_! christ don't care anything about _you_; such a miserable, wicked, story-telling boy as you have been, do you expect him to notice _you_?" but tip's hand was in his pocket, resting on his lamp, as he had learned to call it; and the low, sweet voice in his heart was urging him to let its light shine. he drew it out, and turned the leaves, and the same dear helper stopped his eyes at the words, "fear not, for i have redeemed thee; i have called thee by thy name; thou art _mine_." then came hot, thankful tears. oh, precious words, sinking right into the torn, troubled heart. christ the redeemer had called him by his name! he was--yes, he _would be his_! he glanced around. nobody was to be seen; he was sitting in the hollow at the foot of the hill, and under the shade of a low branching tree. and there he knelt down to pray; and satan drew himself away, for the spot around that kneeling boy was holy ground. tip's soul had gained the victory. chapter viii. "freely ye have received, freely give." whether tip felt it or not, there were some changes in his home. mrs. lewis, though worried and hurried and cross enough, still was not so much so as she had been. the house was quieter, there was no cradle to rock, there were no baby footsteps to follow and keep out of danger; she had more time for sewing. yet this very thing, the missing of the clinging arms about her neck, sometimes made her heavy heart vent itself in short, sharp words. but tip had astonished the family at home,--it didn't require wonderful changes to do it,--rather the change which they saw in him seemed wonderful. the fire which she found ready made in the morning, the full pail of fresh water, the box: filled with wood, were all so many drops of honey to the tired mother's heart. the awkward pat of his father's pillow, which tip now and then gave as he lingered to ask how he was, seemed so new and delightful to that neglected father's heart, that he lay on his hard bed and thought of it much all day. tip got on better at home than anywhere else; he had not so many temptations. he had been such a lawless, reckless boy, that they had all learned to leave him very much to himself, and, as not a great deal of his time was spent there, his trials at home were not many. as for kitty, she did not cease to wonder what had happened to tip; she perhaps felt the difference more than any one else, for it had been the delight of his life to tease her. now, from the time that he gathered his books, with the first sound of the school-bell, and hurried up the hill, until he returned at night, ready to split wood, hoe in the garden, or do any of the dozen things that he had never been known to do before, he was a never-failing subject of thought and wonderment to her. watching him closely, the only thing she could finally settle on as the cause of the change which she found in him was, that he now went every sabbath morning to the sabbath school. the mystery must be hidden there. having decided that matter, kitty speedily resolved that she would go there herself, and see what they did. many were the kind hearts that had tried to coax her into that same sabbath school, and had failed. but this saturday afternoon's gazing out of the window, with a wonderfully sober face, had ended in her exclaiming,-"i say, mother, i want a needle and thread." "what do you want with a needle and thread?" asked mrs. lewis, stirring away at some gruel in a tin basin, and not even glancing up. "i want to mend my dress; it's torn this way and that, and looks awful. i want some green thread, the colour of this wide stripe." now for a minute the gruel was forgotten, and mrs. lewis looked at kitty in amazement. "dear me!" she said at last; "i don't know what will happen next. it can't be possible that you are going to work to mend your own dress without being scolded about it for a week, and then made to do it." "yes, i am, too; i ain't going to look like a rag-bag another hour. and i'm going to wash out my sun-bonnet and iron it; then i mean to go over to that sunday school to-morrow. i ain't heard any singing since i was born, as i know of, and i mean to." the gruel began to burn, and mrs. lewis turned to it again, saying nothing, but thinking a great deal. once she used to go to sabbath school herself, when she was kitty's age; and she didn't have to mend her dress first, either; she used to be dressed freshly and neatly, every sabbath morning, by her mother's own careful hands. she poured the gruel into a bowl, and then went over to her workbox. "here's a needle and thread," she said at last, drawing out a snarl of green thread from the many snarls in her box. "mend your dress if you want to, and i'll wash out your bonnet for you towards night, when i get that vest done." it was kitty's turn to be astonished now. she had not expected help from her mother. tip lingered in the kitchen on sabbath morning. he looked neat and clean; he had a fresh, clean shirt, thanks to the washing which his mother had done "towards night." he was all ready for school, yet he waited. kitty clattered around, making rather more noise even than usual, as she washed up the few poor dishes. evidently tip was thinking about her. the truth was, his lamp had shown him a lesson that morning like this: "freely ye have received, freely give." he stopped at that verse, reading no further. what did it mean i surely it spoke to him. had not god given, oh, _so_ many things to him? had he not promised to give him heaven for his home? now, here was the direction: "freely give." what, and to whom? to god? surely not. tip was certain that he had nothing to give to god; nothing but his poor, sinful heart, which he believed the saviour had taken and made clean. what could he give to any one? he leaned out of his little window, busy with this thought. kitty came out to the door, and pumped her pan full of water. he looked down on her. there was kitty; had he anything which he could give her? he shook his head mournfully; not a thing. but wouldn't it be the same if he could help her to get something? what if he could coax her to go to sunday school; perhaps it would do for her all that it had done for him. and at this moment the unwearied satan came with his wicked thoughts. "kitty would be a pretty-looking object to go to sabbath school,--not a decent thing to wear! everybody would laugh at her and at you. besides, i don't believe she would go, if you _did_ ask her; she would only make fun of you. better not try it." "oh, tip lewis," said his conscience, "what a miserable coward you are! after all you have promised, you won't risk a laugh for the sake of getting kitty into the sabbath school!" "yes, i will," said tip, and he ran downstairs. and this was why he lingered in the kitchen,--not knowing just what to say. kitty helped him. "tip," said she, "i suppose they sing over at that sunday school, don't they?" "i guess they do;" and tip's eyes brightened. "ever so many of them sing at once, and it sounds grand, i tell you. they play the melodeon, too: don't you want to go and hear it?" "humph! i don't know. i don't suppose it will be any stupider than staying at home. i get awful sick of that. if i knew the way, maybe i would go." "oh, i'll take you!" said tip, in a quick, eager way. he wanted to speak before his courage failed. so kitty, in her stiff blue sunbonnet and green calico dress, went to sabbath school. there was no mission class for girls, so mr. parker sent her among the gaily-dressed little girls in miss haley's class; but mr. holbrook detained tip. "edward, you intend to come to sabbath school regularly, don't you?" "yes, sir." "then i think we must leave your place in the mission seat to be filled by some other boy, and you may come forward to my class." it is doubtful whether tip will ever see a prouder or happier moment than that one in which he followed the minister down the long room to his _own_ class. but when he saw the seat full of boys, his face grew crimson. at the end of the seat was ellis holbrook, the minister's son,--the boy who but a few days before had, he believed in his heart, told a wicked story about himself, and gained him a severe punishment. he did not feel as though he could sit beside that boy, even in sabbath school. but mr. holbrook waited, and sit down he _must_. ellis moved along to give him room, and disturbed him neither by word nor look during the lesson. but tip's heart was full of bitterness, and he thought the pleasure of that morning gone. the lesson was of christ and his death on the cross, and, as he listened, hard thoughts began to die out. the story was too new; it touched too near his heart not to calm the angry feelings and to interest him wonderfully. as soon as school was dismissed, mr. holbrook turned to him. "what disturbs you to-day, edward?" tip's face grew red again. "i--i--nothing much, sir." "have you and ellis been having trouble in school?" "he has been getting _me_ into trouble," spoke tip boldly, finding himself caught. mr. holbrook sat down again. "can you tell me about it, edward?" "he said i threw paper balls, and mr. burrows whipped me; and i didn't." "are you sure you didn't?" "yes, sir." "did you say so at the time?" "over and over again, but he said he _saw_ me." "edward, have you always spoken the truth? is your word to be believed?" tip's eyes fell and his lip quivered. "i've told a great many stories," he said at last, in a low, humble tone; "but this _truly_ isn't one. i'm trying to tell the truth after this, and jesus believes what i have said this time." "so do i, edward," answered mr. holbrook gently, even tenderly. "ellis was mistaken. but i see you are angry with him; can't you get over that?" tip shook his head. "he got me whipped for nothing, sir." "suppose christ should follow that rule, edward, and forgive only those who had treated him well; would you be forgiven to-day?" this was a new thought to tip, and made him silent. mr. holbrook held out his hand for the little red bible. "let me show you what this lamp of yours says about the matter." and tip's eyes presently read where the minister's finger pointed: "if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your father forgive your trespasses." "trespasses mean sins," explained mr. holbrook; then he turned away. all this time kitty had been standing waiting,--not for tip, she didn't expect his company,--but for the stylish little girls to get fairly started on their way to church, so she could go home without having any of them look at or make fun of her. kitty had not been having a very good time: she had the misfortune to fall into the hands of a teacher who thought if she asked the questions in the question-book, and if one scholar could not answer, passed on to the next, she had done her duty. so the singing was pretty nearly all kitty had cared for. god was leaving most of the work for tip to do, after all. he went over to her now, and walked down the road with her. the boys had all gone, as well as the girls, so there was nothing to hinder their walking on quietly together. "how did you like it, kitty?" he asked. "oh, i didn't think much of it. i sat by the ugliest girl in town, and she made fun of my bonnet and my shoes. i _hate_ her." tip had a faint notion in his heart that kitty also needed the verse which had just been given him; but he had other thoughts about her. god's spirit was at work. having taken her to sabbath school, having begun a good work, he wanted it to go on. it was very hard to speak to kitty; he didn't know what to say; but all the way down the hill there seemed to ring in his ears the message, "freely ye have received, freely give." "kitty," he said at last, "don't you want to be a christian?" "i don't know what a christian is." "but wouldn't you like to love jesus?" "how do i know?" replied kitty shortly. "i don't know anything about jesus." "oh, didn't you hear, in the lesson to-day, about how he loves everybody, and wants everybody to love him, and how he died so we could?" "i don't know a thing about the lesson. i counted the buttons on miss harley's dress most all the time; they went up and down the front, and up and down the sides, and everywhere." "oh, but, kitty, you surely heard the hymn,- 'jesus loves me, this i know, for the bible tells me so.'" "yes," kitty said; "the hymn was pretty enough, only nobody gave me a book, and i could just hear a word now and then." altogether, tip didn't feel that he had done kitty a bit of good. but he knew this much, that, since he had begun to think about and talk to her, he longed--yes, _longed_--with all his heart to have her come to christ. * * * * * "ellis, come here a moment," said mr. holbrook, turning towards his study door, as the family came in from church. "what is it about this trouble in school with edward lewis?" "no trouble, father; only tip threw a paper ball, just as he always _is_ doing, and, as mr. burrows asked me if i knew who threw it, of course i had to tell him, and that made tip mad. why? has he been complaining to you, father?" "ellis, did you see edward throw paper?" "yes, sir." "are you positive?" "yes--why--that is--i glanced up from my book just in time to see it whiz, and it came from tip's direction, and his hand was raised, so i supposed of course he threw it. i thought a minute ago that i knew he did." "but now you would not say positively that some boy near him might not have done it?" "why, no, sir. alex palmer might have thrown it; but i didn't think of such a thing." "well, ellis, my verdict is that you were mistaken; i don't think edward told a falsehood this time. i'll tell you why: he is trying to take the saviour for his pattern. i believe he is a christian. now, there is one thing which i want you to think of. edward lewis, who has never been taught anything good, who has never had any one to help him, has given his heart to christ; and my boy, for whom i have prayed with, all my soul every day since he was born, has not." chapter ix. "hitherto hath the lord helped us." "boys," said mr. burrows, one monday afternoon, "you may lay aside your books; i want to have a talk with you." books were hurriedly gathered and piled in their places, and the boys sat up with folded arms, ready for whatever their teacher had to offer. mr. burrows drew out his arm-chair from behind the desk, and sat down for a chat. "who will tell me what an acrostic is?" several hands were raised. "well, howard, let us hear what you think about it." "it's a piece of poetry, sir, where the first letter of every line spells another word." "do you mean the first letter alone spells a word?" the boys laughed, and howard explained promptly. "no, sir; i mean the first letters of each line taken together form a name." "must an acrostic always be written in poetry?" this question called forth several answers, and made a good deal of talk; but it was finally decided that there could be acrostics in prose as well as in rhyme; and mr. burrows asked,-"how many understand now what an acrostic is?" a few more hands were raised, but many of the boys did not understand yet; it must be made plainer. "howard," said mr. burrows, "come to the board and give us an acrostic on the word boy." howard sprang up. "must it be a sensible one, sir?" "sense or nonsense, just as you please, so as it shows us what an acrostic is." "i can take my parsing-book and give you one, i think, sir." and howard came forward and wrote rapidly,- "b but you shall hear an odd affair, indeed, o of which all europe rings from side to side"-then he paused, turning the leaves of his parsing-book eagerly. "i can't find anything in y to finish this up with," he said at last. "can't you give us a line from your own brain?" and at this howard's eye brightened with fun, and, turning to the board after a moment of thought, he dashed off the closing line,- "y you who can finish this may have the job;"-then took his seat amid bursts of laughter from the boys, who all began to understand what an acrostic was. ellis holbrook's hand was up, and his eyes were full of questions. "mr. burrows, why is that called by such a queer name as acrostic?" his teacher smiled. "you must study greek, ellis. we get it from two words in the greek, or from one word made up of two others, which mean _extreme_, or _beginning_ and _order_. in an acrostic the beginnings of the lines are arranged in order. do you understand how we get that word now?" "yes, sir." "well, now, you would all like to know what this talk is for. i want every boy in school who can write, to bring an acrostic on his own name for his next composition." the boys groaned, and exclaimed, "they couldn't do it, they were sure; they couldn't _begin_ to do it!" "yes, you can," said mr. burrows; "i don't give my scholars any work that they _can't_ do. you may quote it, or make it original, as you please; but i want every one of you to _try_." johnny thorpe, the smallest boy in school who could write, now seemed in trouble, and stretched up his arm to its full length. "well, johnny, what will you have?" asked his teacher. "if you please, sir, i don't know what you mean by quote." mr. burrows laughed pleasantly. "i must remember, i see, to speak plain english; i mean you may borrow your essay from a book, or a dozen books, if you like, so that you don't try to make us believe the thoughts are your own. you may write in poetry or not, as you please; but i want each to choose a subject, and stick to it better than howard did just now. i have given you something to do that will keep you hard at work, but you will succeed at last." tip went home in a tumult. what could he do? he had never written a composition in his life, having made it a point to run away from school on composition-day; but running away was done with now. it didn't seem possible that he could write anything: certainly not in such a new, queer way as mr. burrows wished them to. supper and wood-splitting were hurried over for that evening, and tip took his way very early to the seat under the elm-tree down by the pond. he wanted to think, to see how he should meet this new trouble; it was a real trouble to him, for he had set out to do just right, and he saw no way of getting out of this duty, and thought he saw no way of doing it. "there is no place on the road so dark but this lamp will light you through, if you give it a chance." this is what mr. holbrook had said when he gave tip his bible. and tip had thought of his words very often, had already proved them true more than once; but he didn't see how it could help him now. he took it out, and slowly turned the leaves; it couldn't write his composition for him, that was certain. but oh, the bright thought that came to tip just then! why not find his acrostic in the bible, and write it out? among so many, _many_ verses, he would be sure to find what he wanted. but then, how very queer it would be for _him_, tip lewis, to copy anything from the bible! what would the boys think? what would bob turner say? still, what else could he do? besides his spelling-book and a worn arithmetic, it was the only book that he had in the world. "i don't care," he said suddenly, after a few moments of troubled thought. "i guess i ain't ashamed of my bible,--it's the only thing i've got that i needn't be ashamed of. i'll _do_ it. the boys have got to know that i've turned over a new leaf. i wish they did; the sooner they know it the better. i say, my lamp shall help me out of this scrape, that's as true as can be; it helps me whenever i give it a chance." he fumbled in his pocket and drew out an old stump of a pencil. the next thing was a piece of paper; he dived his hand down into another pocket, producing a rusty knife, pieces of string, a chestnut or two, and, finally, a crumpled piece of paper on which bob turner had scrawled what he called a likeness of mr. burrows, and given to tip for a keepsake. he spread it out on a flat stone which lay near him, and began his work. a long, slow work it was for tip. hours of that day, and the next, and the next, every day, until the fading light drove him home, did he sit under the elm-tree turning the leaves of his bible, poring over its contents, writing words carefully now and then on his bit of paper. remember it was new work to him. at last, one evening, the sun went down in the bright red west, the stars shone out in all their twinkling, sparkling glory, the shadows began to fall thick and fast around the old tree, when tip, with a little sigh of relief, folded the precious piece of paper, laid it carefully away in his bible, and turned his steps homeward. his acrostic was finished, and into his heart had crept some of the beauty of those precious words, which he had found for the first time. words they were which would go with him through all his life, and sweetly comfort some dark and weary hours. the school-books were all piled neatly on the desks that friday afternoon; the shades were dropped to shut out the low afternoon sun; and forty boys were still and expectant. the acrostics lay in a great white heap on mr. burrows' desk, not a name written on any of them. mr. burrows was to read, and the boys were to have the pleasure of spelling out the names of the owners as he read. a merry time they had of it that afternoon. some wonderful acrostics were read. ellis holbrook had a very clever one, arranged from his lesson in virgil. howard minturn had borrowed from his father's library a copy of shakespeare, and worked hard over his; the boys and their teacher thought it a success. even bob turner had written; the idea had happened to strike him as a very funny one, and bob always did everything that he thought funny. he had found three lines in rhyme which just suited him, and by the time the eager boys had spelled out b o b,--which was the only name the boy saw fit to own,--the schoolroom fairly shook with their laughter. next to his lay a paper which tip knew, and his heart beat so loudly when mr. burrows took it up, that he thought every one in the room must notice. the room had now grown quiet, and mr. burrows, after opening the paper, announced the title,-"what jesus christ says." then read slowly and reverently, while the wondering scholars spelled out the name. "e even the night shall lie light about thee. d depart from evil and do good. w whosoever cometh unto me, i will in no wise cast out. a a new heart will i give you. r resist the devil, and he will flee from you. d draw nigh to god, and he will draw nigh to thee. "l lo, i am with you always. e ever follow that which is good. w whosoever abideth in him, sinneth not. i i will go before thee, and make the crooked paths straight. s so that we may boldly say, the lord is my helper." what a silent and astonished company listened to this reading, and spelled the name "edward lewis!" "edward," mr. burrows said at last, "who found those verses for you?" "i found them, sir, in my bible. i've got them all marked!" speaking eagerly, willing this time to bring proof that he was telling the truth. mr. burrows' voice almost trembled as he answered,-"it is a beautiful collection of some of the most precious verses in the bible. it was a fine idea; i am very much surprised and pleased. i wish that you, and every scholar of mine, could feel in your hearts the full meaning of those words of jesus." * * * * * "i can't to-night, howard," said ellis holbrook, in answer to his friend's coaxings to accompany him home; "i've got something else to attend to. hallo, tip! tip lewis! hold on a bit! i'm going your way. no, howard, i'll come up in the morning; i really _can't_ to-night." tip waited in wondering silence, while the boy, whom he counted an enemy, hurried towards him. ellis was a bold, prompt boy: when he had anything to say, he _said_ it; so he came to the point at once. "see here, tip, did i blunder the other day when i told mr. burrows you threw paper? i thought i saw you." "yes," said tip, "you did. i didn't throw a bit of paper that day." "well, father said he thought i was mistaken. i'm sure i supposed i was telling the truth. i'm sorry. i'll say so to mr. burrows and the boys, if you like, and let him find out who did it, and then was mean enough to see you whipped for it." tip struggled a little. "no," he said at last, "let it go. the whipping is done, and can't be undone; i don't want to make any more bother about it." ellis eyed him curiously. "you're a queer fellow," he said at last. "i expect you had about the best acrostic, this afternoon, that can be written." tip's heart was throbbing with pleasure as he walked on home after ellis had left him. for the first time in his life he had earnest, warm, hearty praise from his teacher. ellis had said, "father told me he thought i was mistaken." mr. holbrook, then, did believe and trust him. besides, there was another thought which seemed delightful to him. tip lewis, the worthless, yes, wicked boy that everybody thought him, had walked down the main street side by side, and talking earnestly with ellis holbrook, the minister's son. chapter x. "enter not into the path of the wicked." kitty hung on the gate and watched them pass by,--the long train of high waggons with grated windows, out of which strange animals peered with their great, fierce eyes; the two elephants in their scarlet and gold blankets; the tiny ponies tossing their shaggy manes; the splendid carriage drawn by eight gaily blanketed, gaily plumed, dancing horses, and every seat filled with splendidly dressed men and women; the bright red band-waggon, with the sun glittering over the wonderful brass instruments and turning them into gold. kitty watched all this,--watched, and listened to the loud, full bursts of music, until her heart swelled and bounded. she sprang from the gate, and stamped her foot on the ground. "i wish--oh, i wish i could go!" she almost screamed at last. "i want to--i _want_ to! oh, i never wanted to go anywhere so bad in my life!" "i reckon you'll take it out in wanting," said her mother, who had also leaned on the fence and watched the show pass by. "folks who have to dig as i do, from morning to night, just to get something to eat, don't have any money to spend on circuses." kitty shook her head with rage. "i don't go anywhere," she screamed. "never! i never went to a circus in my life, and all the boys and girls around here go every year. tip always goes--always; he manages to slip in. oh, tip'" and she opened the gate and went out to him on the sidewalk, a new thought having come to her, "can't you do something to get some money, and let me go to the circus with you? can't you manage some way? oh, tip, do! i'll do anything for you, if you only will. i never wanted anything so bad before." and tip's face, as he walked towards the village ten minutes after that, was a study, it looked so full of trouble. kitty wanted to go to that circus,--wanted to go so very much that she had coaxed and begged him in a way that she had never done before. besides, if the truth be told, tip wanted to go himself; every time the wind wafted back to him a swell of the distant music, it made his heart fairly jump. it was true, as kitty had said, he always managed to slip in some way; and the oftener he went, the oftener he wanted to go. well, then, what was the matter with tip? what he had done so many times before, he could surely find a way to do again. oh yes! but tip lewis to-day was different from any tip lewis there had ever been before on circus day. wasn't he trying to do right? but then, what had circuses to do with that? he tried to think what were his reasons for being troubled! why did a small voice down in his heart keep telling him that the circus was no place for him now? looking at the matter steadily, the only reason tip knew was, that ellis holbrook and howard minturn never went; their fathers had taught them differently. ellis, he knew, rather looked down on people who did go,--called them low. this had never troubled tip before, because he had always known himself to be low; but now, wasn't he trying to climb? didn't respectable people generally think that circuses were bad things? no, poor tip, they didn't; there was mr. bailey, a rich man,--so rich and so respectable that his son wouldn't stoop to lend tip his spelling-book at school,--yet mr. bailey went to the circus last year and took all his children. so did mr. anderson and mr. stone, and oh! dozens of others, rich, great men. well, did good people go? and tip's thoughts strayed back to mr. holbrook, and mr. parker, and mr. minturn, yea, and others, whose voices he had heard on the streets and in stores, condemning the circus. but then, after all, where was the harm? there was kitty, how much she wanted to go; if he could manage to take her, how glad she would be! at this point satan thought there was a chance for him to speak; so he walked along with tip, talking like this: "kitty has never asked you to do anything for her before. you want to help her; you want to get her to go to sunday school and to read the bible. now's your time: if you take her to the circus, very likely she will do what you want her to." this was a little too absurd, even for tip, who wanted to believe it all so badly; but who ever heard of taking any one to a circus in order to get them to love jesus? tip knew altogether too well for his comfort, that day, that mr. holbrook's example was the safe one. at last he drew a little sigh of relief; he needn't think about it any more, for he had no money: he had never owned fifty cents at one time in his life; so the question, after all, would settle itself. no, it wouldn't. mr. dewey stood in the door of his market, looking up and down the street. "hallo, tip!" he called, as tip turned the corner; "you're the boy i must have been looking for, i guess. if you'll carry home packages for me for an hour, and not steal one of them, i'll give you two tickets for the circus." tip's cheeks glowed at the word steal, and he came near telling mr. dewey to carry his own packages, if he were afraid to trust him. but then, those two tickets! here was a chance for kitty. the conflict commenced again. a whole hour in which to decide it, for tip meant to do the work any way. up and down the streets, stopping at this house and that with his parcels, back again to the market for more, all the time in a whirl of thought. the question was almost decided when the two green tickets were placed in his hand; it closed over them eagerly. he hurried towards home. towards home led him past the brick hotel. in the bar-room sat some of the circus men; he knew them by their heavy beards, which almost covered their faces; knew them also because he knew every man in town, just who were strangers and who were not. well, these circus men were very busy drinking brandy and playing cards. tip stopped and looked in at them; and, ignorant boy as he was, the thought that good, respectable people would go to see and hear such men as these, seemed very strange. it couldn't be right, could it? how was it? a great many nice people must have blundered terribly if it were wrong; and, on the other hand, if it were not wrong, how did the minister happen to be so afraid of these things? why did he himself have so many queer feelings about the matter? what a trouble he was in! if only he could find somebody or something that would decide it for him! long before this he had walked away from the hotel; now he had crossed the bridge, gone around behind the mill, and was very near his seat under the elm. down he sat when he came to it, still holding fast the two green tickets, but with the other hand diving down in his pocket for the little bible. that was getting to be a habit with him, to hunt for this lamp of his whenever he was in darkness. he turned the leaves now with a perplexed face. if he only knew where to turn for help! "let me see," he said. "where was that verse that i learned for the sunday school concert? i liked the sound of that; it was somewhere in this book full of short, queer verses. i can find it; yes, i see it. 'for the lord shall be thy confidence, and shall keep thy foot from being taken.'" it didn't seem to help him; he shook his head slowly, still glancing on over the verses, until suddenly his listless look vanished, and he read aloud;--"enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away." "that means them," said tip, "and me. they're wicked men, that's certain: they were drinking and gambling,--swearing too, i guess; and this verse reads about them just as plain as day. it says, 'don't go near them,'--says it over and over again; and i'll mind it, i will. i'll take these tickets right back to mr. dewey, so they won't be here to put me in mind of going." no sooner said than done; he turned around and fairly galloped up the hill, around the corner, and landed nearly breathless at the market. "here, mr. dewey," he said promptly, "i've brought back your tickets; i don't want 'em this time." "what's up now?" asked mr. dewey, coming out from behind his desk, and eyeing the panting boy curiously. "won't the tickets pass?" "not if they wait till i pass 'em," answered tip in his prompt, saucy way. "i ain't going to the circus, not an _inch_," he added, as if to assure himself that he meant it. "but why not?" "oh, i've got reasons." "well, now, tip," said mr. dewey, "that's really astonishing! suppose you give us a few of your reasons. we don't know what to make of this." tip didn't know what to say; he hesitated and thought, and finally did the best thing he _could_,--spoke out boldly. "i've made up my mind that i won't go to any more circuses, _ever_! i don't believe in 'em as much as i did." that wasn't it yet,--he had not owned his master in the answer. neither was mr. dewey satisfied. "but, tip, give us the _reasons_; this is such a sudden change, you know." "well," said tip, "i've been reading about them just now." "about whom?" "why, them circus fellows. they're up here at the tavern; they're drinking and fighting, and i don't know what; and i guess, by the looks of things, they're pretty wicked. the book i was reading said, don't go near wicked men, turn around and go the other way; and i _mean_ to." and with this tip whisked out of the house and around the corner. mr. dewey shrugged his shoulders. "the world turns around, sure enough," he said at last. "how do you know that?" and mr. minturn set his market basket on the step, and fanned himself with his hat. "i'm my own boy to-day, you see; give me something for my dinner. how did you find out that the world turned around?" "why, tip lewis has taken to preaching against circuses. will you have a roast to-day, mr. minturn? i gave him a ticket, and he just rushed in with it and informed us he wasn't going to circuses any more, because the bible says they are wicked fellows. what do you think of that?" "humph!" said mr. minturn. "the bible says it would be better for a man, sometimes, if a millstone were about his neck, and he were in the bottom of the sea. i'd look out for that, if i were you. hurry up with your meat; i ought to be at the store." tip went home to kitty. she still swung on the gate; at least she was there when he came up. "oh, tip," she said, "are you going to take me? oh, tip, _do_! i never asked you for anything before." tip walked slowly up the yard, with his hands in his pockets, troubled,--not knowing what to say, or how to say it. at last he stopped and wheeled about. "kitty, i can't; i can't go. i could get tickets if i dared, but i don't mean to go any more. they're bad, wicked men, and i'm trying to be"-but kitty twitched herself away from him, and wouldn't hear any more. "do go off!" she said. "you're a mean, ugly, hateful boy! i'm sorry you got so awful good, if you can't do that little much for me. go away and let me alone." even in his sore trouble a little flash of joy shot through tip's heart. he _was_ different, then. kitty had noticed it; she knew he was trying to be different. there _must_ be a little bit of change in him. chapter xi. "avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away." over and over in his mind did tip repeat this verse; it seemed to sound all around him, and mixed up with everything he did. and yet he went out of the house that evening, and turned straight down the street in the direction leading to the tented circus grounds, walking along slowly, talking to himself. "it won't do any harm just to listen to the music. i don't mean to go in--of course i don't! suppose i'd do _that_, after all i said to kitty! besides, i couldn't if i would; i haven't got any ticket. i'm just going to walk down that way, and see if there's lots of folks going, and if the music sounds nice." "avoid it, pass not by it." oh yes, tip knew; he heard the voice, yet on he went; beginning to walk swiftly, only saying in answer, "i ain't going in; i couldn't if i wanted to; and i don't want to." by and by he came within sight of the tents and within sound of the music, which, to his untaught ears, was wonderfully beautiful; came up even to the very door of the large tent, bewitched to go just a step nearer, though he didn't mean to go in, not he. yes, the people were crowding in. mr. douglass stood by the door. tip knew him very well; that is, he knew he lived in a large house and had plenty of money; and he knew, when the men were trying to raise any money, some one was sure to say, "go to mr. douglass; he's always ready to give." everybody liked mr. douglass. he turned around now from looking down the road, and looked down at tip. "well, tip," he said, "going to the circus?" tip shook his head. "what's the matter?--no money? pity to get so near and not go in; isn't it, pet?" this last to the dainty little girl whose hand he held. "yes," she answered, with a happy smile. "papa, why don't mamma come?" "oh, she'll be along soon. here, sir," to the doorkeeper, handing him twenty-five cents, "let this ragamuffin in. in with you, tip, and practise standing on your head for a month to come." it was all done in a hurry; the doorkeeper stepped aside, the crowd jostled and pushed against him, the music burst forth in a new loud swell. a moment more, and tip stood in the brightly-lighted room, staring eagerly around him. there was enough to see; the seats were filling rapidly with gaily--dressed ladies and gentlemen. he knew them, many of them, had seen them on the streets often and often; had seen some of them in sabbath school, seated before their classes. tip was speedily giving himself up to enjoyment, hushing the small voice in his heart. one of the nicest men in town had let him in; yes, and there he was now with his wife and little girl; mrs. douglas was not only a teacher in the sabbath school, but a member of the church. if she could go to the circus, why couldn't he? so tip reasoned, and nobody told him that his lamp said, "every one of us shall give account of _himself_ to god." presently the wonderful little shaggy ponies trotted out; and back behind the curtains was one of the riders; he got a peep of her every now and then in her splendid dress; he knew she would be out pretty soon, and then she would ride. oh, that music! how it rolled around the ring! tip was too busy looking and listening to keep out of people's way; he stepped back, still jostled by the crowd who were pouring in, and stepped directly in front of a man who was trying to make his way through the crowd around the entrance. tip knew him in an instant; he was one of the circus men,--the one with the ugly face that he had noticed in the morning; it was ugly still, and red with liquor. he turned a pair of fiery eyes on tip, and a dreadful oath fell from his lips as he swung him angrily out of his way. oh, tip lewis! no wonder your heart fairly stops its beating for an instant, then bounds on with rapid throbs. only a few days ago you listened to the story of a bleeding, dying saviour, bleeding and dying for you; and you promised, with honest tears, that for this you would love and serve and honour him for ever. and yet, to-night, here you are, watching the tricks of men who can speak that sacred name in such a way that it will make even you, who are used to this, shudder and turn cold. "in the name of the saviour whom you love, what do you here?" it was to tip as if christ himself had asked that question. he turned suddenly, and, with both hands pressed to his ears, fairly fought his way through the crowd. "let me out! let me go!" he fairly shrieked the words at the astonished doorkeeper, who stood aside to let him pass. up the hill with swift, eager steps he ran, trying still to shut out the ring of that awful oath, the sound of that hateful voice, speaking the name which had so lately become to him the one dear and precious name in earth or heaven. on, on, up the hill, and then down on the other side, stopping finally at the great tree under the hill, just across the pond. stopping and sitting down, he tried to think. what had he done? he had been warned, he had been tempted, and he had _fallen_. it didn't help him now to think that good men and women were there. perhaps god had not so plainly shown them the wrong. perhaps they had never found that verse: "avoid it, pass not by it." perhaps--oh, _anything_--it was nothing to him now. this much was certain: he had done wrong. such a heavy, _heavy_ heart as tip had to-night. "what _should_ he do? what would kitty say, if she found it out? oh, what would mr. dewey think, or mr. holbrook? and then, above all else, came the thought, what could jesus, looking down on him now from heaven, what could _he_ think of him? this thought brought the bitter tears, but it brought him also on his knees; and he said,-"oh, jesus christ, in spite of it all, you _know_ i love you. won't you forgive me and let me try again?" long he knelt there, trying to get close to christ, and his saviour did not leave him alone. it was only yesterday he had learned the verse, and it came to him softly now: "thou art a god ready to pardon, gracious and merciful, slow to anger, of great kindness." in his sore trouble, tip's lamp had not failed him. chapter xii. "he honoureth them that fear the lord." slowly, but surely, as the late autumn days came on, tip was growing into a better place in the schoolroom, in the opinion of his teachers and his schoolmates. in mr. burrows' school, ten was the perfect mark, and _x_ was the very lowest grade a boy could reach. it had once been an everyday joke with tip, that, being _x_, he must be perfect, because it said in the spelling-book that _x_ was ten. but it had been a good many days since tip had said "_x_;" the boys had ceased to be amazed when he answered "ten" in prompt, proud tone. they were growing, many of them, to be surprised and sorry for him, when, in his days of failures, he answered, with drooped eyes and very red, ashamed face, "seven," or, it might be, "six." though he was still anything but a good reader, no one could fail to see that he blundered less and less every day, and mr. burrows was growing patient with his blunders, growing helpful in his troubles. the boys saw him working hard over his spelling-book, and few of them now had the meanness to laugh when a word passed him. mr. burrows' tones were not so harsh to him as they used to be; and now-a-days, when he was accused of breaking rules, instead of being called up and unhesitatingly punished, his teacher, who grew every day less and less sure that he was at the bottom of all the mischief done, always gave him a chance to speak for himself, and was learning to believe him. oh yes! things were different, and were all the time growing more so. bob turner saw this plainly: he began to find tip a very stupid companion, and stayed away from school more afternoons than ever. but poor tip noticed the change less,--yes, much less than any of the others. you don't know how hard it was for him. do you think satan was willing to leave him, and let him grow quietly into a good boy? not a bit of it. you see he had been born bubbling over with fun and frolic; he had never learned to have them come in at the right place or the right time. sometimes he felt willing to give up all trying to do right, for the sake of having a grand frolic just when and where he wanted it,--no matter what might be going on just then. sometimes, when he failed, he felt fierce and sullen, and told himself it was all humbug, this trying to be good. sometimes he felt so utterly sad and discouraged, that it seemed to him he never could try again; yet through it all he _did_ try heartily. his arithmetic was the hardest. he was still in the dunce class,--so the boys called it, because it was made up of the drones from several classes, and was constantly being put back to addition. it was a sharp winter's morning. no more make-believe winter for a while,--the snow lay white and crisp on the ground, and the frosty air stung every nose and every finger it could reach. tip's study, at the foot of the hill under the elm, had been quite broken up, and he found it very hard to study at home,--especially this morning. his father's cough had been bad all night, and this made his mother troubled and cross. kitty, these days, seemed trying to see just how cross and disagreeable she could be; and the kitchen--at best a dismal place--was just now at the worst. the wet wood in the stove sizzled and stewed and made a smoke; and in the midst of tip's fifth trial on an example which was puzzling him terribly, he was called on to split some kindlings. "this instant!--i won't wait a minute!" kitty said in a provokingly commanding tone; and tip went at it sullenly, saying, with every spiteful drive of his axe through the pine board which he had picked up, "it's no use; i _cant_ do that sum, and i ain't going to try. i don't know anything, and never will. i've done it over fifty times, and twisted it every way i can think of. there's no sense to it, any way,--sixteen sheep _stood him in_ two dollars apiece. what does that mean, i'd like to know? he had forty sheep and twenty-five cows. i know it all by heart; but i can't do it, and that's the whole of it. i wish his sheep had choked to death, and his old cows run away, before i ever heard of them. i'll go over it just once more." (tip was back by the kitchen window now, with his slate and book.) "let's see: twenty-five cows at thirty-four dollars apiece;" and he worked away in nervous haste, until he came to "stood him in." if he only _could_ find out what that meant, he felt sure he could do it. if he had somebody to help him; but he hadn't. there would be no time after he went to school before the class was called. just then he thought of his father; he used to be a carpenter before he was sick, and he used to make a great many figures sometimes on smooth boards. tip remembered it was just possible that he might know something about the sum. suppose he should ask him? he started up suddenly, and went towards the bedroom door. "father," he said softly, "can't you tell me what 'stood him in' means?" the sick man turned himself on his pillow, and looked wonderingly at tip. "what do you mean?" he asked at last. "why," said tip, in a despairing tone, "it says 'stood him in' in the arithmetic,--the sheep stood him in two dollars apiece,--and i don't see any sense to it." "oh!" said mr. lewis; "i see what you mean;" then he went back to his long-ago deserted carpenter's shop. "why, tip, if i had ten pounds of nails, and they were worth eight cents a pound, they would stand me just so much,--that is, they would be worth that to me; and if i should sell them i'd get so much for them. don't you see?" light began to dawn on tip's mind. "then it means," he said, "that the man didn't sell his sixteen sheep; he just counted them worth two dollars apiece. yes, i see; if that's it, i'll try it." and he rushed to his work again. and tip will never forget the eagerness with which he presently turned to the answer in his arithmetic, and from that back to the one on the slate, nor the way in which the blood bounded through his veins when he found that they agreed perfectly. "it's exactly it," he called out to his father, in a hearty, grateful voice. "i've got it, and i've been at work on it this whole morning." ellis holbrook, about that time, conquered a most puzzling example in algebra; but he felt not prouder than did tip. "thomas," said mr. burrows to the head boy in tip's arithmetic class, "you may take the twenty-third example to the board." "can't do it," answered thomas promptly. "henry may do it, then." "i couldn't get it either," was henry's answer. so on down the class; tip's heart meantime beating eagerly, for the twenty-third example was about his troublesome, but by this time very much-beloved sheep. "robert?" said mr. burrows, more for form's sake than because he had the slightest doubt about robert's reply. "my!" said bob turner good-naturedly; "i can't do it." tip sat next, and something in his face made mr. burrows put the question to him, though he had nearly resolved to waste no more time in the matter. "can you do this, edward?" "yes, sir," said tip promptly and proudly, "i can." and no nobler figures or firmer lines did chalk ever make on a blackboard than was made while that troublesome example was being done. he was roused from his flutter of satisfaction by hearing mr. burrows' voice. "do you know anything about the lesson, _any_ of you?" "i'm sure _i_ don't," answered bob, still good-naturedly. mr. burrows was growing utterly out of patience; this same scene had been acted too often to be endured longer. he turned back to the first pages in the book. "very well," he said at last; "you may take the first page in addition to-morrow morning, and we'll see if you can be made to know anything about that." tip's hopes fell; his heart was as heavy as lead. not one of the others cared; they were used to it; so indeed was he, only now he was trying, he did so long to go on; just when he was working _so_ hard, to be put away back to the beginning again made him feel utterly disgraced. "wait a minute, tip." mr. burrows' eye fell first on him, then on the neatly and correctly worked example; then he turned, and asked, "charlie wilcox, on what page is your arithmetic lesson for to-morrow?" "we commence multiplication, sir," answered charlie, a bright little boy, who belonged to a bright class, that did not idle over any pages in their work. "edward," said mr. burrows, turning back to tip, "you have done well to-day. you mean to study, after this, i think; i have been watching you for some time. the third arithmetic class take the first page in multiplication for their next lesson to-morrow; you may take your place in that class, and remain there as long as you can keep up with it." now tip was too much astonished to speak or move; his wildest dreams had not taken in promotion, at least not for a long, _long_ time. bob turner leaned over and looked at him in actual sober wonder, that tip was to be in a higher class. not a word did tip say. he did not even raise his eyes to his teacher's face; and that teacher had not the least idea how the boy before him felt. he did not know how tip's heart was throbbing, nor how he was saying over and over to himself, "things are different; they're surely different." he did not know how those few words of his, spoken that winter morning, were going to help to make the boy a man. it was that very morning, standing in that room before the blackboard, with his toe on the third crack from the wall, that tip resolved to have an education. chapter xiii. "the rich and poor meet together; the lord is the maker of them all." the boys gathered around the stove before school, and talked. the boys,--not all of them, by any means. only that small, select number who were above, and led all the rest. tip wandered outside of the circle, feeling very forlorn; he didn't belong anywhere these days. bob and his friends had very nearly deserted him; there was scarcely any of their fun in which he had time or desire to join, and the other cliques in school had never noticed him; so he stood outside, and wondered what he should do with himself. howard minturn wheeled suddenly away from the boys, and called to him,-"tip, see here." and tip went there. "what do you want?" he asked crossly; for some way he felt out of sorts with that company of finely-dressed boys around the stove. "want you to come over to-night. it's my birthday, you know, and some of the boys are coming to take tea, and spend the evening. can you come?" tip's wide-open eyes spoke his astonishment. "what do you want of me?" he asked at last, speaking boldly just what he thought. "why, i want you to come and help have a nice time," returned howard, with great kindness, but just a little condescension in his tone. tip heard it, and his bitterness showed itself a little. "it's a new streak you've got, ain't it?" he said, still speaking crossly. "you've had lots of birthdays, and this is the first one _i've_ heard of." "oh, well!" said howard proudly, flushing as he spoke; "if you don't want to come, why"-mr. burrows' hand was laid on howard's arm. "don't spoil a good, noble thing, my boy. it is all new to edward; _urge_ him." mr. burrows spoke low, so no one else could hear him, and turned away. at recess howard sought out tip. "i honestly hope you'll come to-night, tip, for you're a good fellow to play games with, and the boys would all like to have you." tip had quarrelled with his ill-humour, and it had vanished. "i'll come," he said, in a cheery tone; "only i'll look like a big rag-bag by the side of _you_ fellows." "never mind," said howard, turning to join the boys, "_you_ come." why had howard minturn invited him to the grand birthday party? this was the question that puzzled tip. had he known the reason, it would have been like this: mr. minturn had never quite lost sight of tip since the circus. he wanted to help him,--wanted to do it through his son; only he wanted the son to think that he did it himself. knowing howard pretty well, he said, when they were seated at breakfast that morning,-"i've just been reading about a real hero." howard longed to be a hero; he looked up eagerly. "who was he, father? what did he do?" "he was a rich young man, and he had the courage to take for his friend a poor fellow who hadn't two cents to his name. to pay him, the time came when he was proud to be noticed by the great man who was once so low." this thought was still in howard's mind when he walked with ellis to school. so, when ellis said, "there goes tip lewis; father thinks we boys ought to notice him; he is trying real hard now-a-days to behave himself, you know," it was easy for howard to mingle tip in with his thoughts. "ellis," he said, after a moment's silence, "suppose i invite him to come to our house to-night? he's a splendid good fellow to have a game; never gets mad, you know." "s'pose he'd come?" asked ellis. "yes, of course; jump at the chance. _i'll do it_. our boys will think it odd, i suppose; but i guess i have courage enough to do as i please." and howard drew himself up proudly, and thought of his father's hero. so this was why tip was invited to the birthday gathering at the grand house on the hill. mrs. lewis sewed, that afternoon, on his jacket, mending it up more neatly than ever before. she had said very little about this invitation, but she couldn't help feeling proud and gratified over it. it was certainly a wonderful jump for tip, from mingling with the worst and lowest boys in town, to find himself taking a long stride, and reaching the very top. so mrs. lewis sewed, and kitty, as she sat watching the needle fly back and forth, spoke her thoughts: "all of the boys down to mr. burrows' school wear white collars on their jackets." "well," answered her mother snappishly, "what's that to me? s'posing they wear white _cats_ on their jackets, i could get him one just as easy as t'other." it was a sore subject with mrs. lewis. from her very heart she wished she could dress tip in broadcloth to-day, just as fine as that which howard minturn himself wore, and a collar so white and shiny that it would fairly dazzle the eyes of the others to look upon it; but, since she was so powerless to do what she would, it made her cross. the bedroom door was open, and tip's father heard. by and by, when his cough was quieter, he called, "kitty!" and the little girl went in to him. "is the jacket fixed, kitty?" "yes." "does it look nice?" "some." "would you like to find a collar for tip to wear?" "well enough," said kitty wonderingly. "well, now, i've got two or three that i don't wear any more, and never shall, i guess" (this last spoken sadly); "s'pose you take one of 'em--they're in that square box under the table--and see if you can't sew it on the jacket, and make it look like what the other boys wear? now, you try what you can do, just to see what tip will say." kitty went slowly over to the box. this was new work for her, but her father was very pale to-day, and those sadly-spoken words, "and never shall, i guess," had quieted her; so she made no answer, but drew out one of the collars. it looked nice and white, and shone, too. mrs. lewis had done it up late one night, with tears in her eyes, because she could not hope that it would be worn again. "what are you doing with that?" she asked sharply, as kitty appeared from the bedroom. "father wants tip to wear it," answered kitty. "i'll lend it to him," spoke the sick man; "we want him to look as decent as we can to-day, you know." mrs. lewis said no more, but it seemed to her like giving up one more hope of her husband's life. tip came down from the garret, with neatly-brushed hair, and dressed in his clean shirt, nicely mended jacket, and the shiny collar. it was wonderful what a difference that collar made; he didn't look like the same boy. "kitty," he said, his face all aglow with pleasure, "where _did_ i get a collar?" "it's father's; he said wear it," answered kitty. "and how did it get on my jacket?" "jumped on, likely." kitty spoke in a short, half provoked tone; she was so unused to doing a kind thing, that she really felt half ashamed of it. "well," said tip, smiling all over his face, "if that's so, it's the best jump it ever took, and i thank it from the bottom of my heart." then he carried his bright, good-natured face out of the little house in the hollow, and went towards the great house on the hill. chapter xiv. "every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment." howard minturn was a king among the schoolboys; so, though some of them nudged each other and laughed a little when tip swung open the iron gate and appeared in mr. minturn's grounds, the most of them, seeing how quickly howard sprang forward, and how heartily he greeted the newcomer, did the same. howard was his father over again; if he did a thing at all, he did it well. every moment of that afternoon was enjoyed as only boys know how to enjoy holidays: the whole round of winter fun was gone through with,--coasting, snowballing, building forts, rolling in the snow, each had their turn. tip was not one whit behind the rest in all these matters, and if ever boy enjoyed an afternoon, he did that one. the sun had set in its clear, cold beauty, and the sharp winter night was coming down; the boys stood at the foot of the hill waiting for ellis and his sled, which were at the top; they came at last, shooting down the glassy surface. "hurry up," called out howard, as he spun along. "what the mischief became of you? we thought you had gone to hunt up sir john franklin and crew." "hurry down, i should say you meant," answered ellis, guiding his sled skilfully around the curve, and springing to his feet. "i waited for the rest of you; thought you were coming back." "no," said howard, "we just _ain't_. we appointed a committee to find out how many were frozen up altogether entirely, and found that every single one of us were; so we're going in to the library fire to get thawed out by tea-time." "all right," said ellis, shouldering his sled; "howard, where's your skates?" "oh, bother! they're at the top of that awful hill. never mind; you walk on slowly, and i'll run back and get them." the boys obeyed, and ellis holbrook was just swinging open the little gate that led to mr. minturn's grounds, when howard called, as he ran down the hill, "hold on! don't go that way, it will lead you right through the deepest snow there is; take the big gate." and by the time he reached them, panting and breathless, they were at the big gate. "this is jolly," said will bailey, throwing himself into a great arm-chair before the glowing fire. "my! i believe i'm a snowball." "you'd have been an icicle if you had gone the way ellis was leading you; why, the snow is so high," said howard, raising his hand almost on a level with his head. ellis laughed. "i'm sure i thought i was going right," he said. "i must have been thinking of yesterday's lesson in sunday school,--'enter ye in at the strait gate.'" "ho!" said will bailey; "for that matter, one gate is as straight as the other." "you don't understand the bible, my boy," said howard, laying his hand on will's shoulder with a provoking little pat, "or you'd know that strait means narrow." "i'll bet a dollar that you were no wiser yourself until father explained the verse yesterday," said ellis, laughing. tip, meantime, stood apart flushed and silent; he knew about the sunday lesson, and remembered the solemn talk which mr. holbrook gave them; and remembered how he urged them, while they were young, to enter into that strait gate; he felt shocked and troubled at the sound of ellis's careless words. "i know one thing," he said abruptly. "do you?" said will bailey in a mocking tone. "that's very strange!" will felt above tip, and took care to let him know it. ellis turned a quick, indignant glance on him; then spoke to tip in a kind and interested tone: "what were you going to say, tip." "that, if i were the minister's son, i wouldn't make fun of the bible." ellis's face was crimson in an instant. "what do you mean by that?" he asked haughtily. "just what i say," was tip's cool reply. "do you pretend to say that _i_ make fun of the bible?" "humph! didn't i hear you?" "no," said ellis, in a heat, "you _didn't_! and i'd thank you not to say so neither." "well, now," said tip, "i'll leave it to any boy here if you didn't. when a fellow takes a thing in the bible and twists it around, and makes believe it means some little silly thing that it don't mean at all, i call that making fun." "poh!" said howard, coming to the rescue of his friend. "what a fuss you're making about nothing. you're getting wise, aren't you, tip? ellis was only saying that verse in fun, just as lots of people do. i've heard good men quote the bible and laugh over it." "can't help that," said tip boldly; "i say it's wicked, and ellis holbrook's father says so too. i heard him tell will bailey once that folks ought to be very careful how they said things that were in the bible.' "did he tell you to go around preaching for him through the week? how much does he pay you for your services? come, let's hear." this was said in will bailey's most disagreeable tone. before tip had time to answer, ellis spoke again. "well, i don't pretend to be as good as some people are, but i really can't see any awful wickedness in anything that i've said to-night." "neither can anybody else, except tip," said will, "and he's good, you know; he never does anything wrong, except to tell lies and swear, or some little matters." ellis was an honest boy. "no," he said gravely, "there is no use in saying what isn't true, for the sake of helping my side along. tip don't do either of those things now-a-days, i believe; but i'm sure i don't thank him for his good opinion of me." howard was glad at this moment to hear the tea-bell peal through the house, for the boys were growing cross. most of them had been so astonished at the bold stand which tip had taken, that they said nothing, only gathered round, and waited to see what would come next. howard sprang up. "there's something i, for one, am ready for. come, boys;" and he led the way to the dining-room. oh, that dining-room, with its bright lights and splendid table, was such a wonderful sight to tip! it was a very nice birthday supper,--plates of warm biscuit, platters of cold chicken, dishes of beautiful honey, silver cake-baskets, filled with heavily-frosted cake. tip, for one, had never seen such a sight in his life before, and he was so bewildered with the dazzle and glitter that he didn't know which way to turn. "howard," said mrs. minturn, turning to her son, after she had welcomed his friends, "do you want your father to take the head of the table, or would you and the boys prefer having the room to yourselves?" "no, ma'am," answered howard, with energy; "we want you and father _both_. i guess i want _you_ to my party, whoever else i have." tip watched the bright light on howard's face with surprise. how much he seemed to love his mother, and how much she loved him! how queer it was! the supper was a great success; the boys forgot their excitement and ill-humour, and enjoyed everything. it was almost nine o'clock, the hour when it was generally understood that the party was to break up. the boys had been very merry all the evening; the discussion which had taken place just before tea seemed to have been forgotten, save by ellis, who, genial and hearty enough with the others, was cold and haughty to tip. still, they kept apart, and the fun had gone on famously. there was a sudden lull in the uproar when mr. minturn opened the door. "are the walls left?" he asked, coming forward. "the _walls_?" said ellis inquiringly; "why, sir, did you expect to miss them?" "well, i had some such fears, but i see they're all right. what are you up to?" "ellis was telling a story, that's what we were laughing at when you came in," said howard. "go on, el--never mind father, he likes to hear stories." "no," said ellis, blushing crimson; "i think i'll be excused." "go ahead," said mr. minturn; "i'm very fond of stories." "i was only telling, sir, how joe barnes talked to his father when i was down there this morning." "yes, and, father, you'd be perfectly astonished to hear him," chimed in howard. "i never heard a fellow go on so in my life; he makes fun of every single thing his father says." "do you think there is anything very surprising in that?" asked mr. minturn coolly. "surprising! i guess you'd think so. why, when his father is talking to him real soberly, he mimics him, and laughs right in his face." "but i shouldn't suppose you would think there was anything strange about that." the boys looked puzzled. "why, mr. minturn!" said ellis; "wouldn't you think it strange if howard should do so?" "well, no; i don't know that i should have any reason to be astonished." howard looked not only surprised, but very much hurt. "i'm sure, father," he said, in a voice which trembled a little, "i didn't know i was so rude to you as all that." "no," said mr. minturn, "you never have been, but i rather expect you to commence. i shall have no reason to be surprised if you and ellis and will bailey, and a host of others, all go to making fun of what your fathers say to you after this." the boys seemed perfectly astonished. "_i_, for one," said ellis holbrook proudly, "think too much of _my_ father, to be in any such danger." "you _do_?" said mr. minturn; "well, now, i _am_ amazed. i supposed you would be the very worst one." howard left the table and came over to where his father had seated himself. "father, what _do_ you mean?" he asked, in an earnest, anxious tone. "why, i mean," said his father, "that i was in that room over there just before tea, and i heard the discussion which came up between you boys, and i came to the conclusion that boys who thought it such a little matter to make fun of solemn words which god has said to them, need not be expected to show much respect for what their father or anybody else said." a perfect stillness settled over the boys at these words, and not only ellis holbrook's cheeks, but his whole face glowed. howard came to the rescue at last, very stammeringly: "but, father--i don't think--do you think--i mean--well, sir, you know ellis and the rest of us didn't mean to make fun of what god said. don't you think that makes a difference?" "i don't know, i'm sure. how do you know that joe barnes means to make fun of what his father says?" "he acts like it," howard said. "exactly; and so do you, every one of you, except tip. i don't say, boys, that you are all going to be disrespectful to your elders after this; i only say i don't see why your earthly friends should expect more reverence from you than you give to god." boys and man were all silent for a little after that, until mr. minturn broke the stillness by repeating reverently, "'enter ye in at the strait gate.' i guess you all know what that means. i would like to know whether there is a boy here who thinks he has entered in at that gate." how still the room was while he waited for his answer! tip could feel his heart throb--throb--with loud, distinct beats; twice he tried to break the silence, and couldn't. at last he found voice: "i do, sir." mr. minturn turned quickly. "what makes you think so, tip?" "because i love jesus, and i'm trying to do what he says." mr. minturn's voice trembled a little: "god bless you, my boy; try to get all the rest to go through the same gate." the town clock struck the hour, nine o'clock. the boys made a move to separate. tip took his cap and walked out alone in the cold, clear starlight. he felt quiet and strong. it was done at last: he had taken his stand before the boys--had "shown his colours." they all knew now that he was trying hard, and who was helping him. things must surely be different after this, for ever. chapter xv. "and all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in player, believing, ye shall receive." meantime, was kitty forgotten? not a bit of it. if ever boy prayed for any one, tip prayed for her. his very soul was in it; yet thus far his prayers seemed to have been in vain. the lesson, one sabbath morning, was on "god's answers to prayer." tip listened closely, yet with an unsatisfied longing in his eyes. "mr. holbrook," he said, waiting after the rest had gone, "is there time for just one question?" "yes, for two, if you like," said mr. holbrook, sitting down again; "what is it, edward?" "i want to know why god don't answer folks' prayers right away?" mr. holbrook smiled. "if your questions are all as hard as that, edward, i don't think there will be time for another to-day. but there may be several reasons: we will try to find them. sometimes god doesn't answer our prayers at once, simply to try our faith, to see whether we are willing to take him at his word, and keep on asking, until he is ready to give; or whether we will grow tired in a little while, and give it up. and sometimes we spend all our strength in praying, and don't work; then, often, we don't believe we shall get what we are praying for. do you understand me?" "no, sir," answered tip promptly. "well, let me see if i can make it plainer. for whom are you praying, edward, that you are troubled this morning, because you have not been heard?" "for kitty; i have been, this long time. kitty's my sister, and i want her to love jesus; but it don't seem to do any good for me to pray for her. "it is _possible_ that god may be trying your patience, but not probable; i think we can find a better reason. do you work while you pray? i mean, do you talk with kitty,--tell her what you are praying for,--urge her to come to christ,--try to show her how?" tip looked grave. "i did talk a little to her once, but it didn't seem to do her any good, and i haven't said a word since." "did you ever read in the bible what is said about such praying, about saying, 'depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled,' and not _doing_ anything?" tip shook his head, and mr. holbrook held out his hand for the little bible. "let me find it for you, and when you go home you may read it, and see if you, in praying for kitty and never saying a word to her, are not a little like that man. then there's another thing. do you really believe that god will do what you ask him? you say every day in your prayer, 'o god, make kitty a christian;' and yet, wouldn't you be very much astonished if kitty should come to you to-day, and say, 'i want to be a christian!' are you looking out for any such thing?" tip generally spoke his honest thoughts. "no," he said gravely, "i ain't." the church bell began to ring, and mr. holbrook arose. "i think, if you begin to work and pray together, and then ask god to help you to believe, that he will surely do as he has promised; that you will soon find your prayers answered." this he said while gathering up his books and papers ready to start, and then,-"edward, why don't you come to our thursday evening prayer-meetings?" tip's eyes were full of astonishment. "i never once thought of it," he said. "why, mr. holbrook, boys don't go, do they?" "no," said the minister sadly, "they don't; because i don't know of another boy of your age in this whole town who loves the saviour. only think what a work there is for you to do!" tip went home with his brain full of new thoughts. no, he didn't go home; he only went as far as the elm-tree, and there he sat down and read what mr. holbrook had marked in his bible. yes, that was just the way in which he had been praying for kitty; and it was certainly true, as mr. holbrook had said, nothing could surprise him more than that kitty should really and truly come to jesus. before he went from under the tree that day, he prayed this prayer: "o god, teach me to believe that you will make kitty love jesus, and show me how to help her." after this, of course he looked out for his chances in which to work, and of course he found them,--found one that very day. after dinner kitty wandered off by herself. tip watched her, and she took the road leading to the cemetery. god put it into his heart to hurry after her; so, when he came up to her, where she sat, on a large stone which she had rolled very near to johnny's grave, his heart was beating at the thought of the great work which he had to do. "what did _you_ come for?" said kitty, looking up. tip hesitated a minute, then told the plain truth. "i came after you." "i suppose i know that: you didn't come before me." "i mean i came to _see_ you." "well, look at me, then, and go off; i don't want you here." clearly, whatever was to be said must be said quickly, and tip's heart was very full of its message, so his voice was tender: "oh, kitty, i came to ask you if you _wouldn't_ be a christian. i _do_ want it so, it seems as if i couldn't wait." kitty looked steadily and gravely at her brother. "what do you mean by 'be a christian?'" she asked at last. "i mean love jesus, and do as he says." "what'll i love him for?" "'cause you can't help it, when you find out how much he loves you, and all the things he does for you." "what does he say do?" "he says be good; try to do right things all the time." kitty's eyes flashed. "now, ain't you mean," she said angrily, "to come and tell me such things, when you know i ain't good, and _can't_ be good? isn't mother ugly and cross and scolding to me all the time? and don't i have to work and work, _always_, and never have anything? and i'm cross and get mad, and i _will_, too. i can't help it." "oh, but, kitty," tip interrupted eagerly, "you don't know about it! he helps you, jesus does. when anything is the matter, when you feel cross and bad, you just go and kneel down and tell him all about it, and he helps you every time. and up in heaven, where you can go when you die, nobody ever gets cross and scolds. and it's beautiful there: they sing, and have fountains, and wear gold crowns; and--and johnny is there, you know; and i'm going, and i _do_ want you to come along." kitty's face had been growing graver and graver with every word her brother spoke, and when at last he stopped, with his eyes turned towards johnny's little grave, kitty's shawl was crumpled up in her two hands and held tightly to her face; and she was crying, not softly and quietly, but rocking herself back and forth, and giving way to great sobs which shook her little form. tip looked distressed; he didn't know what to say next; he stooped down to her at last, and spoke softly: "oh, kitty, i'm sorry for you! if you only _would_ love jesus, it would make you happy." "i want to--i want to!" sobbed kitty; "i would if i knew how." tip's heart gave a bound of joy--a surprised bound, too; he had not expected it so soon. "it's easy, kitty, it is, truly, if you only just ask god to do it. you see he can hear every word you say; he hears you now, but he wants you to ask him about it. say, kitty, i'll go off and leave you,--i'll go where i can't see nor hear you,--then you kneel down and tell jesus about it, and he'll help you." "stop!" said kitty, as tip was turning away; "wait! i don't know what to say." "why, just _tell_ him, just as you did me, and ask him to help you. you see, kitty, you can't do a thing without that; he's got to look after you every single minute, or it's nothing at all." tip went away, and kitty was left alone,--alone in the spot where her brother had first found the saviour. she felt very strangely; she had been left there alone to offer her first prayer. kitty had never been taught to kneel down by her bedside every evening, and repeat "our father;" it was all new and strange to her. she sat still a long time, with the sober look deepening on her face. at last she got down on her knees and rested her little hard hands on the hard snow which covered johnny's bed, and she said, "jesus, i want to be what tip says. i want to love you if you'll let me. nobody loves me, i guess. tip says you'll help me all the time. if you will, i'll try." after she had said this, slowly and thoughtfully, stopping long between each sentence, she didn't feel like rising up; she wanted to say more, so she repeated it, adding, "tip says i must be good. i can't be good, but i'll try." over and over was the simple, earnest prayer repeated. tip did not go back to johnny's grave; he took a side road down through the edge of the grove, and so went home; and when he reached home, he went up to his attic room, and knelt down and prayed for kitty as only those _can_ pray who have been working as well as asking for what they want. kitty was stirring the pudding for supper when he saw her again,--stirring away hard at the heavy mass, which grew thicker and harder to stir every moment. he went over to her. "kitty, let me do this;" and she gave up the pudding-stick. tip stirred away. by and by she leaned over the kettle to put in some salt, and as she sprinkled it around she caught his eager, longing look. she nodded her head. "i guess he heard," she said softly. "i _know_ he did," tip answered, his eyes very blight; in his heart he sang "_glory!_" and the angels in heaven sang for joy; for that night there had been laid aside a white robe and a crown of gold for kitty lewis. chapter xvi. "whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will i confess also before my father which is in heaven." tip was very undecided what to do. he went out on the steps and looked about him in the moonlight; then he came in and took a long look out of the window. at last the question, whatever it was, seemed to be settled. he turned with a resolute air to kitty who was washing the tea-dishes. "kitty, don't you want to go to prayer-meeting up at the church?" kitty dropped her cup back into the dish-pan and stood looking at him, a good deal surprised. at last she said,-"i'd like to, tip, but i don't look decent to go anywhere. i've only this dress and my old hood." "i wouldn't mind that," said tip. "i've only this awful old jacket either, but i mean to go. hurry up the dishes, and let's go." "well," said kitty at last, "i _will_; but what will mother say?" "i'll fix that." and tip stepped softly into the bedroom. "are you better to-night, father?" "not much better, i guess. how's arithmetic to-day?" "first-rate; mr. burrows said i was getting ahead fast. mother, may kitty go out with me to-night? i'm going up to the church to prayer-meeting." mrs. lewis turned from the basket where she had been hunting long, and as yet in vain, for a piece of flannel, and bent a searching bewildered look on her son. "i don't care," she said at last; "she can go if she likes; but i doubt if she will." she _did_, however; in ten minutes more the two were walking along the snowy path. kitty was sober. "tip," she said presently, "don't you never get real awful _mad_, so mad that you feel as if you'd choke if you couldn't speak right out at somebody?" "well, no," said tip, "not often. yes, i do too; i get mad at bob turner sometimes, mad enough to pitch him into a snow-bank; but it don't last long." "well, mine does," said kitty. "i begin in the morning; something makes me cross, and i keep on getting crosser and crosser every minute, till it seems as if i should fly. do you suppose i'll always do just so?" "no," answered tip positively, "i _don't_. you keep on trying a little bit harder every day, and by and by you'll find that you don't get cross more than half as easy as you used to. i know it will be so, because i've tried it in other things: when i first began to behave myself in school, it was the _hardest_ work--my! you can think how i wanted to whisper, and things kept happening all the time to make me laugh, but i just kept trying, and now i hardly ever think of whispering. kitty, does mother know?" "no," said kitty, "she don't." "if i were you, i'd tell her." "oh, tip, i can't! she never looks at me without scolding me; i can't talk to her about this." "yes, you can; i'd surely do it if i were you. it will be a great deal easier to try hard if mother knows you are trying." they were almost at the church door. "kitty," said tip suddenly, "let's pray for father to-night. i've been praying for him this long time; you help me." step by step, god was leading tip lewis in the narrow way. no sooner was he seated in the bright, warm little room, and had listened to mr. holbrook's earnest prayer, that every christian there might do something for christ that night, than the struggle began: what ought he to do for christ? people all around him were, one after another, offering prayer or saying a few words. ought he to? could he? oh, he couldn't! who would want to listen to him? it wouldn't do any good. there was mr. burrows right in front of him; he would be ashamed of him, perhaps. yes, but then, ought he not to own his saviour? mr. holbrook had spoken of the verse, "whosoever will deny me before men," and had made the meaning very plain. mr. minturn had just prayed that no one there might be ashamed of christ. the end of it all was, that tip slipped off his seat down on his knees, and said, "our father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. show me how to pray. i don't want to deny christ. i want to love him. i want the boys in our school, and my father, and everybody to love him. i'll try to work for jesus. i'll try to work for him. help me every day, and forgive my sins for jesus' sake. amen." tip had never felt so near to god as he did when he arose from his knees. mr. holbrook's voice trembled with feeling, when, soon after, he prayed for the young disciple who had early taken up his cross. at the close of the meeting, the minister pressed his way through the little company of people who were waiting to speak with him. "good evening, all," he said hurriedly. "excuse me to-night, brother," to mr. minturn, who would have stopped him any way; "i want to speak to some people before they get away from me;" and those who watched, saw him hurry on until he overtook tip lewis and his sister. "good evening, edward. this is kitty, i think. how do you do, my little girl? edward, do you know such a bible verse as this: 'i love the lord, because he has heard my voice and my supplication'?" "no, sir," answered tip eagerly; "_is_ there such a verse?" "yes, somewhere in the psalms you will find it. i don't remember just where. can you feel the truth of it when you think of your sister?" "yes, sir, i _can_. god _did_ hear me." "and you think you love jesus to-night, kitty?" kitty felt a great awe for the minister, and her "yes, sir," was low, and spoken in a timid voice. "what makes you think so?" "i--i don't know; only i pray, and he hears me, and i like to." "well, now, kitty, almost the first thing which people think of after they have found jesus, is something to do for him; they begin to look around to see what they can find. what are you going to do?" "i don't know, sir; i haven't got anything i can do." "ah, that's a mistake! you can find plenty of work if you look for it; only don't look too far, because it is the little bits of things which come right in your way that jesus wants you to do. when you brush up the room, and set the table neatly, and brighten the fire, and do little thoughtful things that help your mother, then you are pleasing jesus, doing work for him. isn't it pleasant to think that in all those little things he is watching over you, and that you make him glad when you do them well? do you know that one of god's commands is, 'honour thy father and thy mother'?" "no," said kitty softly. "it is; those are the very words; edward can find them for you in the bible; and honour means more than obey; it means, try to please them in the very smallest things." they were very near the corner where mr. holbrook must leave them. he laid his hand gently on tip's shoulder, as he said, "speaking of bible verses, edward, i have one for you this evening, in the saviour's own words: 'whosoever shall confess me before men, him will i also confess before my father which is in heaven.' good-night." tip understood him, and there was a bright look in his eyes. the two walked on in silence for a little. presently kitty said, "i guess mr. holbrook don't know just how mother is, or he wouldn't talk so." "yes, but," said tip quickly, "god knew all about it always, you know; and yet he said that verse." "so he did," answered kitty gravely. chapter xvii. "behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth." "bah," said will bailey, "you're fooling, howard minturn!" "as true as i live, i'm not," answered howard earnestly; "you can ask mr. burrows." "what's up?" inquired ellis holbrook, joining the two. "why, howard is telling the biggest yarn you ever heard: he says tip lewis went to prayer-meeting last night and made a prayer." "tip lewis!" and ellis holbrook's voice was full, not only of surprise, but scorn; "i should like to hear him." "well, it's true," repeated howard. "my father told us about it this morning, and he said it was a good prayer too; he said, ellis, that your father couldn't keep the tears out of his eyes when he heard him; and mr. burrows walked up town with father, and told him that tip had changed wonderfully, that he was one of the best boys in school." "well," said will bailey, "if tip lewis has turned saint, i'll give up. why, he's the meanest scamp in town; my father says he's had enough for anything." "oh, well now," answered ellis, "there's no use in being stupid enough not to see that what mr. burrows says is true. i never saw any one change as he has in my life, but i'll be hanged if i like him as well as i did before he was so awful good; he's too nice for anything now-a-days." "especially when he trips _you_, the minister's son, up, about twisting the bible." ellis's face glowed, but he was an honest boy. "he was right enough about that," he said promptly; "my father says it's wrong. but, if it will do you any good to know it, i haven't liked tip so well since." "say, tip," said will bailey, hailing him at recess, "come here and give an account of yourself. they say you turned parson last night; did you?" "no," said tip, with the greatest good humour, "i didn't." "didn't you speak in meeting?" a quiet gravity spread itself over tip's face. "i prayed in meeting," he answered soberly. "oh, well, what did you pray for? come, let's know." "i prayed for _you_." tip spoke with quiet dignity. "humph! now, that's clever, certainly. much obliged." and will said no more. certainly the boys had never talked so much about any prayer-meeting in their lives as they did about this one. so that was the way it commenced; such a little fire kindled it. tip didn't know it; he never found it out; probably he never will, until he takes his crown in heaven. from the humble little prayer which tip had offered sprang the first buddings of the great revival which god sent down to them. "say," said howard minturn to ellis on the next thursday evening, "let's go over to prayer-meeting to-night. i really am dreadfully anxious to hear tip speak." "no," answered ellis, speaking hastily, more hastily than he often did to howard. "i'm sure i don't care in the least to hear him, and i have enough to do without going there." howard was _determined_ to go, and to find company. "will, let's go to meeting to-night," he said, the next time he came across will bailey. will looked at him in amazement. "what for?" "to hear tip." "oh!" said will; "good! i'll go. let's get a lot of the boys and go over; just to encourage him, you know." and they went. tip and kitty were there again; and again, with tip, the struggle had to be gone through; his coward spirit whispered to him that the boys would only make fun of him if he said a word, and it would do more harm than good. his conscience answered, "whosoever will deny me on earth, him will i also deny before my father which is in heaven." the solemn words conquered, and again tip knelt down and prayed. "my!" said mr. minturn, talking with his wife after they reached home; "when i thought of the bringing up which that boy has had,--no bringing up about it, he has just _come_ up, the easiest way he could,--but when i heard him pray to-night, and then thought of our boy, who has been prayed for and watched over every day since he was born, i declare i felt as though i would give all i'm worth to have howard stand where tip lewis does now." howard heard this, as he waited in the sitting-room for his father and mother; heard it in great amazement, and at first it made him indignant. the idea of comparing _him_ with tip lewis! then it made him sorrowful: his father's tones were _so_ sad; after all that had been done for him, it _was_ hard that he should disappoint his parents. he listened to his father's prayer that night very closely, and its earnestness brought the tears to his eyes. altogether, howard went to school the next morning with a somewhat sober face, and took no part whatever in the boys' fun over the meeting. mr. burrows' heart had been warmed by the voice of prayer from one of his scholars, and he began to pray and long for others of them to work also; and the great god, who knows the beginning and the end, led his first words of anxiety to howard minturn. they stood at the desk, teacher and scholar, howard bending over his slate. "can't you get it?" mr. burrows asked, "no, sir." "howard, are you working with all your thoughts to-day?" "no, sir." and a bright flush mounted to his forehead. "what is it, howard?" "i don't know, sir; not much of anything, i guess." "are you not quite satisfied with yourself to-day?" "satisfied! i--why--i don't know what you mean, sir; i have tried to do the best i could, i believe." "do you really think so, howard?" "yes, sir." "did you think so last evening, in the prayer-meeting? can a boy, who is as well taught as you have been, feel that he is doing as well as he can, when he knows that he is every day cheating god?" howard's face fairly burned. "i don't understand you, sir." "don't you?" and mr. burrows' voice was very kind. "i wish that god's own spirit might help you to understand it. didn't your father and mother promise god, when you were born, to try to train you up for him, because you belonged to him, and they knew it? now, haven't they done their duty? is it their fault that you are not a christian?" "no, sir." "then it comes back to you. you belong to god, body and soul: he made you; he has kept you; he would save you, only you will not let him. you can't help the fact that you belong to him; all you can do is to refuse to give him your love, and let him lead you to heaven, and this you are doing. is it right?" howard was growing haughty. "i don't feel the need of any such things, mr. burrows," he answered coldly. "suppose you don't, does that help the matter any? does it change the fact that you belong to god; that you are cheating him out of his own property? the question i ask is, are you doing right?" howard stood, with eyes fixed on his slate, saying nothing. "won't you answer me, howard?" mr. burrows asked gently; "is it right?" and, after a long, long silence, the boy's honest, earnest eyes were raised to his teacher's face, and he spoke steadily: "no, sir." "are you willing to go on doing wrong?" "no, sir." "will you turn _now_, howard, and start right?" now came another long silence. howard minturn, the honest, faithful boy, always getting a little nearer right than any of the others, had been condemned by his own words, and knew not what to say. at last he spoke: "i can't promise, mr. burrows." "howard! such an answer from _you_, to whom i have only needed to point out what was right, in order to have it done!" "but i can't trust myself, sir; i shall not feel to-morrow as i do now." "that is, you feel like doing your duty today, but you expect, if you wait until to-morrow, that you will feel less like it; so you mean to wait. is that right?" the silence was much longer this time,--so long, that the boys began to look curiously at the two figures over by the desk, and wonder why the bell was not rung. but at last he raised those clear, truthful eyes once more: "mr. burrows, i'll try." and the next thursday evening, when in the house of prayer it was very still, because mr. holbrook had just said, "is there not _one_ here to-night who wants us to pray for him, and if there is, will he not let us know it _now_?" suddenly there was a row of astonished faces in the seat where the schoolboys were sitting, because from among them arose howard minturn, and his face was pale and grave, and his voice was steady; they all heard his words: "i want to be a christian: will you pray for me?" oh, wouldn't they! was there ever such another prayer as that which mr. minturn offered for his son? did any one who heard it wonder that such prayer was answered, and that in the next meeting, howard, speaking with a little ring of joy in his voice, said, "i love jesus to-night. i want every one to love him. i am very happy"? from this the work went on. the little lecture-room grew full and overflowed, and the crowd now filled the church; and every night some new voice was heard, asking for prayer. will bailey seemed filled with the spirit of torment; teased the boys unmercifully; went to the meeting every evening, and made fun of it all day: but the boys were praying for him, and god's pitying eye was on him. one evening there were two who arose to ask the prayers of christians: one was will bailey, the most hopeless, so the boys thought, of all the boys in town; the other was will bailey's grey-haired father, the most hopeless, so the good men feared, of all the strong, self-satisfied men in town. yet there were two for whom daily earnest prayer was offered, who, in this blessed time, held themselves aloof,--two boys so far separated, that it seems strange and sad that their names should be coupled just here. bob turner and ellis holbrook, the lowest and the highest; the worst boy in school and the best! yet they were united in this one thing, that they would have nothing to do with christ. tip had prayed for both, worked for both; but this was his success one afternoon. "say, bob, won't you go to meeting to-night, just to please me?" "couldn't, tip, no way in the world. i'd do most anything to please you, too, for the sake of old times when we used to steal apples together; but i've promised to go with nick hunt tonight, and tie old barlow's cat fast to his frontdoor knob, and that's got to be done while the old man is at meeting, you know. 'tain't no matter, either, about my going; you just do the praying for you and me too; then it will be all right." tip turned away with a sigh and a shudder. could it be possible that _that_ boy had ever been his only companion? ellis was round by the ball-ground, and he went thither. "ellis, won't you go down to-night with the boys? it's almost the last meeting, you know." ellis wheeled around, and spoke in his coldest tone: "tip lewis, you seem to take a wonderful interest in me, and i'm sure i'm much obliged to you; but i'll be a great deal more so if you'll attend to your own affairs after this, and let mine alone." poor tip! how discouraged he felt! yet that very evening, going home from school, he met mr. holbrook; the minister turned and walked up town with him. "edward," he said, "are you praying for my boy?" "yes, sir." "will you never stop praying for him while you live, until he comes to christ?" "i never _will_, sir," answered tip, with energy. chapter xviii. "thy father and thy mother shall be glad, and she that bore thee shall rejoice." how did mr. holbrook know so well what kitty needed to help her? his words had given her such new thoughts; some way it was all new to her, the idea that she had any duty to perform towards her mother. she stood thinking of it that bright winter day,--stood before the little fire, and wondered how it was that she ought to commence. she was to be alone all day. mrs. stebbens, their next neighbour, had fallen down and sprained her ankle, and sent to know if mrs. lewis could do her promised day's work in the village. kitty was left in charge of the house and her sick father. she looked around the room: what an ugly, dreary little room it was!--dust, dirt, and cobwebs everywhere; her hood and shawl lying in one corner; her mother's apron on the floor in the middle of the room; the breakfast dishes not yet washed; the stove all spattered with grease from the pork gravy; the hearth thickly covered with ashes; the paper window-curtain hanging by one tack; and on the mantelpiece, behind the stove, such an array of half-eaten apples, matches, forks, sticky spoons, broken teacups, and dirty candlesticks, as would have frightened any one less used to it than was kitty. as she looked around her, a forlorn smile came over her face, for she thought of mr. holbrook's words: "when you brush up the floor, or brighten the fire to please your mother"-"he don't know," she said to herself, "that mother don't care for sweeping and such things; he don't know how we live. i wonder if mother _would_ notice now if things were different. what if we did live like other folks,--had nice tilings, and kept them put up, and the room swept. suppose i try it. what could i do? i might sweep and wash off the stove, and--and clean off the mantelpiece. i'll just do it, and see if anybody in this house will care." no sooner thought than commenced. kitty went to work. the dishes were washed until they shone; those clean dishes shouldn't go in such a disorderly cupboard. there was no help for it, the shelves must be washed; down came the bottles and bundles, papers of this and boxes of that, which had been gathering, kitty didn't know how long, and the astonished shelves felt soap and water once more. how they were scrubbed! "kitty," called her father from his bedroom, hearing the racket, "what are you doing?" "i'm cleaning house," answered kitty promptly. and her father, because he did not know what else to do, let her work. from the cupboard she went to the mantelpiece, bundled the things all off in a heap, washed it thoroughly, and put everything in order. what a day it was to kitty! one improvement led to another, and as things began to grow clean in her hands, she grew wonderfully interested, and only stopped at noon to warm her father's gruel. it was saturday, and tip had gone to pile wood for mr. bailey. he was to get his dinner and a grammar for his pay. he had wanted a grammar all winter, so he worked with a will; and kitty saw neither him nor her mother through all the busy day. the early sun had set long before. kitty thought he certainly would not know that room the next morning, it was all so changed. the paper curtain was mended and tacked up in its place; the old lounge cover was mended and fastened on smoothly; the mantelpiece shone and glowed in the firelight; the two shiny candlesticks, and beside them the little box of matches, were all that remained there of the rubbish of the morning; the floor was just as smooth and clean as soap and ashes, with plenty of hot water and an old broom, could make it; hoods and shawls and aprons and old shoes had all disappeared,--nothing was lying around: the table was drawn out, the clean, smooth plates arranged so as to hide the soiled spots on the tablecloth, the pudding was bubbling away in the astonished kettle, and kitty's joy had been complete, when, only a few minutes before, after a great deal of stamping and pounding, she had opened the door to howard minturn, who said,-"mother sent you some milk for your supper.--where's tip?--_isn't_ it cold, though?--there'll be prime skating to-night.--give me the pitcher right away, please." all this in one breath. now they would have beautiful fresh milk for supper; and if there was anything which tip liked, it was pudding and milk. so kitty set the old arm-chair in the warmest corner for her mother, fastened her father's door wide open, so that he could see the new room, then stirred her pudding, and watched and waited. her mother came first. kitty's heart had never beat more anxiously than when she heard the slow, tired step on the hard snow. would she notice anything different? in she came, tired, cross, and cold, expecting to find disorder, discomfort, and cold inside. could anybody, having eyes, fail to notice the changes which had been wrought in that little room since she went out from it in the early morning? she shut the door with a little slam, and then the flush of the firelight seemed to blind her a little; she brushed her hand over her face, and looked around her with a bewildered air. kitty went over to her; some way she felt a great kindness in her heart for her mother, a great longing to do something for her. "is it cold, mother?" she asked brightly. "take that chair," pointing to the seat in the warm corner. "supper's all ready, and i've made a cup of tea for you." mrs. lewis took off her hood and shawl in silence, untied her wet shoes, and placed her cold feet on the clean, warm stove-hearth; took in the brightness of the room, the shiny candlesticks, the neatly-spread tea-table; took whiffs of the steaming tea,--all in utter silence; only, when kitty's father, looking out, said, "there's been business done here since you went away," something in her mother's voice, as she answered, "i should think there had," made the blood rush warmly into kitty's cheeks, and made her whisper to herself, as she stooped to place the wet shoes under the stove to dry, "mr. holbrook told me true, i do believe. i guess i have pleased jesus to-day; i feel so." while she was taking up the pudding, there was a merry whistle outside, a brisk, crushing step on the snow, and tip whizzed into the room. oh, there was no mistaking the look of delight on his face, nor the glad ring in his voice, as he said, "oh, kitty! why, kitty lewis! what _have_ you been doing? why, it looks almost as nice here as it does at howard minturn's." all that evening there seemed a spell upon the lewis family. mrs. lewis didn't say one cross or fretful word; indeed, she had no cause, for in kitty's heart there was a strange, new feeling of love for her mother, of longing to please and give her comfort; and never was mother waited on with a more quiet care than mrs. lewis received that night. this was the first coming of home-comfort to the family. tip had apples in his pocket, which howard minturn had given him; he roasted them before the fire, and his father ate very little pieces of them; and his mother darned stockings by the light of the candle in the clean little candlestick set on the clean little stand; and they were happy. by and by tip brought out his grammar, and, finding kitty very much interested in examining it, said,-"what if you should begin and study grammar with me?" "what if i should?" answered kitty. so that evening she commenced her education, and, though grammar was a queer study to _begin_ with, still it was a beginning. the pleasant evening wore away; the town clock had struck nine; kitty's father had gone quietly to sleep, and the bedroom door was shut to keep all sounds from disturbing him. tip had taken his candle and gone. mrs. lewis sat toasting her feet before the dying fire. yet still kitty lingered. she wanted to take tip's advice, and tell her mother about her dear, new friend, and this evening, of such wonderful peace, seemed the good time for doing so; but she didn't know how. if her mother would only say something to help her! and presently she did. "kitty, what fit came over you, to go to work and clear up at such rate?" "i wanted to please _you_, i guess." kitty knew that this answer would surprise her mother, and it did, into utter silence; but, after what seemed to kitty a long, _long_ time, she spoke again: "what did you want to do that for?" now for it! this was the best chance she could ever hope to have, and her voice trembled a little: "i wanted to please jesus too, mother, and mr. holbrook said if i did things to help you, and that you would like, _he_ would be glad---jesus would, you know." a little silence, and then: "i want to please jesus all the time now, because i love him, and i'm going to try to do right." it was all out now, and her heart was beating so that it almost stopped her voice. her mother shaded her face with her hand, and neither spoke nor moved. kitty waited a little, then moved slowly towards the door of her bit of a bedroom; it was moonlight, so she needed no candle. "good-night, mother," she found courage to say at last. "good-night;" and her mother's voice sounded strangely, coming from behind the closely-held hand. there was something like a great sob in kitty's throat as she went to her room that night; in her heart was a great longing for mother-love. she would have liked to kiss her mother good-night, but she felt how queerly that would look; even to _say_ good-night was something very unusual. so she knelt down beside her bed, and prayed for her mother. i don't think mr. holbrook knew that the few kind words which he spoke to kitty lewis, on her way home from prayer-meeting, were seeds which were going to spring up and bear fruit unto everlasting life. chapter xix. "and all thy children shall be taught of the lord." "father," said tip, as, after having carefully measured out and given him some cough-drops, he sat down for a chat with him before school,--"father, didn't you and mr. bailey go to school together when you were boys?" "yes," said mr. lewis. "our fathers lived side by side, and we used to walk more than a mile to school together every morning; we were in the same class, too, and the best scholars in school. my! times are changed since that day. my father was considerably better off than his was, and now he's a rich man, and i'm nobody." "was he such a boy as will bailey is--or, i mean, as will used to be?" "i don't know much about will; but i know his father was a sorry scamp, and many's the scrape he got me into. he took a notion to me. we lived near by, and were always together, and then i was as full of pranks as he was, i suppose. but he was a regular tyrant over the rest of the boys; they were more than half afraid of him; i don't know but what i was myself. anyhow, i know i've thought i'd have been different, maybe, if i hadn't followed him so close in all his scrapes." "father, did you know mr. bailey was different now?" "different--how? what do you mean?" "why, he comes to prayer-meeting, and speaks and prays, and seems to love to." "the mischief he does!" said mr. lewis, surprised out of his usual quiet tone. "i should think he _was_ different. why, he used to make great fun of all such things." "yes, that's what he says; but i tell you he don't make fun now." "when did all that happen?" "a few weeks ago, when the revival was, you know. he got up one night and asked them to pray for him, and now he almost always speaks or prays in the meetings." "well," said mr. lewis, after a pause, and with a little sigh, "i'm sure i ain't sorry. i only hope it will last; he needed it as bad as any one i know of." "it will last," tip said, speaking positively. "god will look out for that." then he waited a little before he spoke again--but he had been praying for his father long enough and earnestly enough to feel bold: "i thought, last night, that you must have been pretty good friends once," he said presently, "for he most broke down when he was praying for you, and the tears just blinded him." mr. lewis turned himself on his pillow, and looked steadily at his son. "did mr. bailey pray for _me_?" he asked at last. "yes, he did; and he prayed as if he meant it." "how came he to?" "why, i asked 'em to--all the folks in meeting, you know. i wanted you to be a christian, and prayed for you, and then i asked them if they'd pray, and mr. bailey got right up. you don't mind that, do you, father? all the folks down there ask us to pray for their friends." "_no_," answered mr. lewis at last, speaking slowly, "i don't know that i do. i need praying for, i suppose, if anybody does. i'm going where i can't be prayed for, pretty fast, i guess." tip had no answer to make to that. "so you prayed for me too, did you?" his father asked presently. "yes, and i do every day, father; i _do_ want you to know jesus." a long silence followed, and then the sick man spoke again: "well, tip, i'm glad that you've got right, gladder than i can tell you. my father was a good man, and tried to make me do what was right; but i went all wrong, wasted my whole life, and brought up my children to do so too; but you're getting on without my help, and i'm glad you'll grow up to be a good man, and be a comfort to your mother when i'm gone. but i don't know that you need ask folks to pray for me; it's too late,--i've gone too far to get back." tip's bold, prompt manner did not forsake him now; he answered quickly,-"father, i don't believe any such thing. god doesn't say anything about it's being too late; and he says if we want anything very much, and pray for it, and it's good to have, he'll give it to us; and i'm bound to believe him. once i prayed for kitty, and prayed and prayed, and it didn't do a bit of good, until at last mr. holbrook told me that maybe it was because i didn't really believe any of the time that god was going to do what i wanted him to; and i found out that was it. just as soon as i began to think he would hear me, it all came out straight; and now i'm bound to believe him every time. i've asked him to make you a christian, and i'm going to keep on asking, and _he'll do it_. father,"--tip's voice took a softer tone, for he knew there was one very tender spot in his father's heart,--"don't you want to see little johnny up in heaven?" the muscles around mr. lewis's mouth began to twitch nervously, and a tear rolled down his cheek. "i'm pretty near it," he said at last; "and i think sometimes i'd give the world, if i had it, to be ready to go; but it's all too late. i've known the right way all my life, and i've gone the other way; now i must just take my pay." the very spirit of christ must have shown tip what to say next. he spoke the words earnestly and solemnly; he meant no disrespect: "father, do you know more about it than god? because, you see, it don't say any such thing anywhere in the bible; i know it don't, for we talked about it in sunday school once, and mr. holbrook said, 'no matter how old a man was, nor what he had done, he could be a christian.'" "i always thought it looked mean and sneaking in a man to have nothing to do with such things all his life, and then turn around just because he was going to die, and pretend to be very good. god can't be pleased with any such thing as _that_. i've always said that i'd never do it." tip couldn't answer this: it didn't sound true; he felt sure it was not true; but he had no wisdom with which to meet it. he went to school with those last words of his father's ringing in his heart, and his thoughts took shape, and spoke in the very first sentence that he addressed to mr. holbrook, whom he overtook as he came out of the post office: "mr. holbrook, can i ask you a question?" and the minister, always ready to help any one out of trouble, smiled and bowed, and walked on by the side of the troubled boy. "if a man should tell you he thought it would be mean in him to turn around and go to serving god, after he had found out he had but a little while to live, when he had cheated him out of all the rest of his life, what would you say?" "i think," said mr. holbrook, "i would be very likely to ask him whether he supposed he would feel any less mean for cheating god out of the last year of his life, simply because he had been doing so all the other years. because a man has been doing wrong for forty years, i don't know why he should add another year of wrong; i should think he might much better turn around, and make all the amends he could." "oh!" said tip, drawing a long breath; "why couldn't i have thought of that? i knew it was wrong,--i saw it plain enough; but i couldn't think of a word to say." mr. holbrook looked earnestly at the eager boy. "edward," he said at last, "do you think your father would see me this morning?" "yes," said tip decidedly, "i know he would. if you would only go and see him, mr. holbrook, and explain that to him, i would be _so_ glad." and, looking back soon after, he had the satisfaction of seeing mr. holbrook walk quickly down town in the direction of his home. and now tip felt hopeful for his father: he had prayed for him, he had worked for him, and now mr. holbrook had gone to him; surely he could leave the rest in god's hands. chapter xx. "let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall." "here tip!" said howard minturn; "hold this frame steady while i try that nail. will, don't put that one up so high, it ain't even with the others. hold on, ellis,--catch hold of this stool, it's tipping. there, now, it's all nice and in order,--isn't it, mr. burrows?" and he sprang from his stool, as their teacher entered the schoolroom door. "very likely," answered mr. burrows, smiling; "only i didn't hear what you said." "i say we're ready for examination, room and all." "the room is, certainly; and i hope your brains are. ellis, i'd move that chair a little to the left; it will be in the way of the classes as it stands now. do you feel brave to-day, edward?" "yes, sir," answered tip promptly; "pretty brave." and he did, besides feeling eager and excited. the long winter term was over; to-day and tomorrow were to be days of examination. the boys had been working hard for it,--none harder than had tip. it was the first examination which had ever come to him in this exciting way. always before he had been among the few inevitable dunces, running away from examination altogether, or else laughing good-naturedly over his own blundering ignorance. but to-day it was different: he stood there on the stage among the workers, proudly answering his teacher's questions, and looking proudly over at the group of idlers,--bob turner at their head,--who loitered near the windows, wondering that he could ever have been of their number. this was going to be a great day for tip; it is true he was far behind some others of his age, so far that not a single class of howard minturn's and ellis holbrook's were to be examined that day,--the advance classes being put for the next day,--while all of his came that morning; but then tip knew there was change enough in him to call the attention of every one present. he felt the change in himself; his mother felt it, when she that morning brushed his hair for him, and fastened a clean collar on his jacket; the boys in school felt it. he had taken his place among the workers. the bell rang at last, and the scholars filed in and took their places. there were visitors, even in the early morning; the people liked to attend mr. burrows' examinations. tip's class in reading came first on the list, and never had his eyes been so bright or his face so eager. tip had learned to read. patiently, earnestly, he had plodded on through the long winter; now his sad blunderings in that line were over for ever; not a boy in school read more slowly, distinctly, and correctly than tip lewis. the selections were to be made by the committee, immediately after class, of those who were considered ready to enter the history class on the following term. this was the highest reading class in the school: and tip's eyes fairly danced when mr. holbrook, who was chairman of the committee, out of a class of thirteen read but two names,--"thomas jones" and "edward lewis." "hallo, tip!" howard minturn had said to him at recess; "let's shake hands. welcome to history; it's awfully hard and interesting." and tip did shake hands, and laughed; and looked over at the other clique--the dunces--with a half-patronizing nod to bob turner; and wondered how he _could_, have borne it to have been numbered with them that day; then he felt that he was climbing into the first set, and climbing _fast_. in spelling, too, he came off conqueror; spelled down the class, spelled until mr. burrows closed his book with the words, "i presume you are tired of this, gentlemen, and, as our examinations are confined to the lessons, i think it will hardly pay to go further, for edward has not missed since the second week in the term." so again, flushed and excited, tip went to his seat victorious. only arithmetic now, and he would be through with the working part of the day. it was the last recitation in the morning, and he was so eager and anxious to do well, that he began to grow nervous. the class was called at last. they had gone slowly and carefully through long division, and would be ready for fractions next term. the recitation passed off finely. tip had not studied day and night during the winter for nothing. he was at the board, working an example in long division; it was almost finished. the hand of the clock pointed to ten minutes of twelve. in ten minutes he would be through, and his name would stand on that honoured list, among those who had not missed one word or made one mistake during the examination. his hand began to tremble. what was the matter with that example? oh, what _was_ the matter? the remainder was too large; no--it was too small; no--it was--he didn't know what! everybody was watching him; he heard a boy laugh softly. he had made a mistake, then; what was it? where was it? mr. burrows' voice came to him, calm and kind: "edward, don't get excited. look at your remainder closely; take the first figures of divisor and remainder--nine in thirty-one, how many times? that will help you." ellis holbrook stood but a step from the blackboard, just behind him. tip heard his low whisper, "seven," and, without waiting to think,--indeed, he was too nervous to think,--he caught at the number. "seven times!" he said hurriedly. then he heard bursts of laughter from the boys, and dashed down his chalk in an agony of shame and pain. and the clock struck twelve! the honour was lost. the boys gathered around him after school was closed. "it was too bad, tip," howard minturn said, in a tone of honest sympathy. "you'd have had it in a minute more." "i'd have had it if it had not been for ellis holbrook, and he's a mean scamp!" tip answered, in a rage. "whew!" said will bailey; "what did ellis do?" and ellis turned, and proudly confronted the angry boy. "he told me wrong just on purpose; that's what he did, and he knows it." and tip broke away from them, and dashed out of the room. howard minturn stood aghast! that ellis holbrook, his best friend, and the very pink of honour among the boys, should do so mean a thing, he could not think, and yet it was hard to think that tip had not told the truth. "what does he mean, ellis?" he asked at last. "you'll have to ask him if you want to find out," said ellis haughtily. "he knows better than anybody else what he means, i guess." the boys started homeward presently in a body. bob turner and his friends surrounded tip, and bob, who never lost a good opportunity for teasing, commenced at once: "poor little fellow, missed his lesson, so he did. don't him cry; him shall have a penny to buy a multiplication-table with." "hold your tongue!" answered tip, too angry to see how foolish it was to let such words, coming from a boy who didn't know a single line of the multiplication-table, provoke him. "_such_ a pity!" began bob again; "when it had spelled its lesson all so nice, and had its face washed and its hair combed so pretty. mustn't cry now, to spoil its face. poor little fellow!" tip turned to his tormentor a face perfectly white with rage, and the boys hardly knew his voice: "bob turner, if you say another word, i'll knock you down and thrash you within an inch of your life. i will"-oh, tip lewis! god forgive you for the way in which you in your blind rage have finished that sentence,--for the use which you have made of that great name, which above all others you profess to reverence and fear! the awful word, once spoken, recalled him to himself: he clapped both hands over his face and ran wildly up the hill, then down out of sight. the boys had all heard it. howard, ellis, will bailey, and a half-dozen others, were just behind him. ellis holbrook's pride rose high. "there's your wonderful boy," he said, "who was so changed, and has taken it upon himself to preach so many sermons to _me_. i'm sure i never finished any of my angry speeches with an oath, if i _am_ so far below him." what an afternoon that was to tip! he will _never_ forget it. he went no farther than the great tree, which was budding out in spring green. down he sat on a stone, and once more covered his face with his hands, and such a storm of rage and pain swept over him as he had never known before. how could he, how _could_ he have said that word? ever since he had learned to pray, he had been afraid of that sin,--afraid he might forget, and go back to his old habits, and he had watched and guarded his lips with such care and prayer. but lately he had given up all fear; it had been such a long time, and he had never once fallen, he felt sure that he never would again. he had felt so sure and proud and strong, that he had asked no help from god that day; he had been so eager to spend every moment on his arithmetic, that he had found no time to go to his bible for strength. no wonder--oh, no wonder that he fell! he had been standing too firmly, feeling no need of help. now, what should he do? how low he felt, how mean! could god forgive him? yes, he _could_. tip felt in his soul that there was nothing which god could _not_ do, and yet he felt too mean and fallen to dare to ask him for anything more; he forgot for the moment that jesus christ died to save _sinners_. the sun went on over his head, and commenced his afternoon work; then there came up the hill the sound of the school-bell, but tip took no notice of that; he didn't want to _think_ of school, much less even _go_. he began to fumble presently for his bible,--he _must_ have some help. it opened of itself at the psalms, and he read the first line which he saw: "unto thee, o god, do we give thanks "--no, not that, and he turned back a couple of leaves. "make a joyful noise "--no, no! he didn't want to hear anything about joy; his heart was as heavy as lead. so he turned over several leaves at once: he _must_ find something that would read as if it meant him. "o lord, rebuke me not in thy wrath, neither chasten me in thy sore displeasure." oh, that was it! god was very angry with him,---had a right to be,--this was just what he ought to say. he read on through the psalm; almost every verse seemed for him, and when he read the one next to the last,--"forsake me not, o lord; o my god, be not far from me,"--he said it over and over, and finally, in a great burst of tears, got down and said it on his knees. the short spring day was over, and the chilly night was setting in. tip had reached home finally, had split the wood for the next day, done whatever he could find to do about the house, and then carried the vests which his mother had just finished to the clothing-store,--going away around behind the mill so as to avoid passing the schoolhouse, lest he might chance to see some of the boys. then he came home, ate his supper in silence, and went up to his attic. he felt better than he had at noon, but his heart was still heavy, and he dreaded the next day, not knowing what he ought to do, or how to do it. this was thursday evening, but he didn't mean to go to prayer-meeting. kitty had asked him, had even coaxed a little, but he said, "no, not to-night." he felt stiff and sore from his long sitting under the great tree in the early spring dampness. he told himself that this was the reason why he was not going to prayer-meeting; but the real one was, he felt as if he could not possibly face mr. burrows that evening, and _certainly_ not mr. holbrook,--of course, ellis had told him all about it. he felt very tired, and his head and limbs ached; he was going to read a chapter in his bible and go to bed. he chose the same psalm which had come to him with so much power that afternoon, read it slowly and carefully, then knelt down to pray, and as he did so a new trouble loomed up before him. what should he do? he had prayed for ellis holbrook and bob turner ever since he began to pray for himself, but he felt as though he could not possibly pray for either of them to-night. both had tried to injure him; both had succeeded. he wished them no harm: he didn't want to choke or drown them, as he had felt like doing at noon, but clearly he didn't want to pray for them. he had arisen from his knees, and was sitting on the edge of the box which was his table and chair, with a very troubled face. the more he thought about it, the more he felt that he could not pray for those boys just then. at last he thought he had found a way out of the difficulty. he said to himself that he was very tired, almost sick; he would just repeat the lord's prayer and go to bed. in the morning, very likely, he should feel differently; he almost knew he should. so he knelt down once more. "our father which art in heaven," slowly reverently, through the sweet petition, until he came to "forgive us our debts as we"--there he stopped. he understood that prayer; they had been taking it up in sunday school, a sentence at a time, and talking about it, and only the sunday before last that sentence had been explained. to-night tip could not finish it; there was no getting around the fact that he had not forgiven either ellis or bob. once more he got up, and took a seat on the edge of his bed to think. he was never so perplexed in his life. what ought he to do? couldn't he pray at all? mr. holbrook had said he must never mock god by asking for what he did not mean, and to say those words, "as we forgive our debtors," feeling as he did to-night, would be mocking god. he ought not to feel so, but how could he help it? suddenly, with a little sigh of relief, he went down on his knees again: he had thought of something which he could say. "oh, jesus, make me feel like praying for bob and ellis; make me want them to be christians as hard as i did last night; make me feel like forgiving them." then there was silence in the lonely attic, while tip, still on his knees, struggled with the evil spirit within him, and came off conqueror, for presently he added, "oh, dear jesus, i'll forgive them both!" and then he finished the prayer--"forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors." while he went around after that, making ready for rest and sleep, the "peace of god which passeth understanding" came down and settled in his heart. presently he seemed to come to another difficulty, for he sat down with one boot in his hand and one still on his foot. this question, however, was settled promptly: he pulled the boot on again in a hurry, then picked up his jacket and put that on, seized his hat, and ran down-stairs. "kitty," he said, putting his head in at the kitchen door, "i'm going, after all; come on." and kitty joyfully ran for her hood and shawl. but tip did not open his lips in prayer-meeting that evening; he felt bowed down to the very ground with shame; he did not once raise his eyes to the seat where howard minturn, will bailey, and others of the schoolboys were sitting; and, when the short hour was gone, he made haste to get out from mr. holbrook's sight and the sound of his voice. but he had much reason, after that, to thank god that he did not succeed. he had just got from under the gaze of the hall-lamp, and stood a minute in the darkness waiting for kitty, when he felt mr. holbrook's hand on his arm, and heard his kind, quiet voice: "edward, mrs. holbrook has some little business to transact' with kitty to-night; shall i walk with you?" and, as tip saw there was no help for it, and walked by his side, he said, "i didn't see you at school this afternoon: how was that?" "mr. holbrook, didn't ellis tell you about it this noon?" "ellis has told me nothing. i heard, from one of the smaller boys, a very sad story. have you anything to tell me?" "no, sir, i have not; it's all true. i got awful mad, and i said mad things. i--i did worse than that." tip's voice sank to a solemn whisper. mr. holbrook, too, was silent and sad; at last he said,-"what, edward! do you mean to give up, and go back to the old life?" and he remembered, years after, just how painfully his heart throbbed while he waited for tip's answer; it was prompt and plain: "no, sir; god wouldn't even let me do that." and then for a minute mr. holbrook did not speak for very thankfulness, that, through all this maze of sin, god was leading tip into the light again. "do you feel that you have god's forgiveness?" he asked, speaking gently. "yes, sir." tip could not give very long answers that evening. "why were you so quiet to-night in prayer-meeting?" "because," said tip, speaking low, "i was ashamed to say anything before you or mr. burrows or the boys, after what happened today." "more ashamed with us than you were with god?" "yes, sir, i was; because god knows all about it,--just how sorry i am, and how he has forgiven me, and is going to help me; and you didn't know that." again mr. holbrook was thankful. "how about to-morrow, edward?" he asked at last. and this time tip's answer was very low: i don't know; i don't know what to do." "if you knew what was right to do, would you _do_ it?" "i'm pretty sure i'd _try_ to, sir." "well, did you honour or dishonour christ to-day?" tip's answer was in a more timid tone than he often spoke: "i dishonoured him." "do the boys know that you are very sorry, and have asked god to forgive you?" "no, sir; they don't know anything about it." "don't you think, for the honour of christ, they ought to?" "i suppose so." "who ought to tell them?" no immediate answer came to this; then, after a little,-"mr. holbrook, how could i tell them--to each one--about it?" "see if you cannot answer your own question. will not all the boys be likely to hear about it?" "yes, sir; they'll be sure to." "and would they all be likely to hear what you have to say, unless you spoke to all at once?" "but, mr. holbrook, if i did that, it would have to be in school." "well?" "but to-morrow is the last day, and it's examination." "well?" that short word seemed to have a good deal of power over tip, for he only answered it by saying, after a long silence,-"mr. holbrook, i wonder if you can think how very hard that would be?" "edward, i wonder if you can think how very hard it was for your saviour to listen to your words this noon?" and mr. holbrook heard no more from tip, save, when they reached the corner, a very low, very grave "good-night." chapter xxi. "he shall call upon me, and i will answer him; i will be with him in trouble: i will deliver him, and honour him." there were not many visitors in the next morning; it was too early, as yet, for any but the examining committee, and a few very fond, very anxious mothers. mr. burrows' hand was on the bell; in a few moments the algebra class would be in full tide of recitation. ellis and howard had their slates in their hands, ready to start at the first sound, when tip lewis left his seat and made his way towards the stage. mr. burrows looked surprised; this was entirely out of order; but a look at tip's face made him change his mind about sending him back to his seat, and bend his head to listen to the few words that were hurriedly whispered in his ear. then he looked more surprised, hesitated a minute, then asked,-"hadn't you better wait until noon, and i can detain the scholars a few moments?" "no," said tip, shaking his head, and speaking earnestly; "i'm afraid, if i wait till noon, i shan't do it at all." "very well," mr. burrows answered finally. "scholars, one of your number tells me that he has something of importance to say to you; we will wait and hear him." it was well for tip that he was a bold boy, that every day of his life had been such as to teach him a lesson of boldness, else his courage would surely have failed him, when he felt the many curious eyes resting on him. as it was, his face was scarlet, when he turned it away from the desk and towards the boys. yet he spoke promptly, as he always did when he spoke at all: "i want to tell the boys that i am sorry for yesterday. i suppose they all know what i did. i got awful mad, and i--i said a dreadful word. i didn't think i would ever be so wicked again; i feel awful about it. but i don't want the boys to think that i don't love jesus any more, because i do; and he is going to help me try such a silence as was in that schoolroom then, the boys had never felt before! mr. burrows' face was shaded with his hand; he let the silence rest upon them for a moment, after tip had taken his seat; then he spoke, low and solemnly,-"boys, what god has forgiven, i feel sure that no scholar of mine will be mean enough ever to mention again." then the bell sounded, and the business of the day went on. tip had laid his head down on the desk the minute he took his seat, and he kept it there throughout the recitation. he had been through a fearful struggle; it was hard work for a boy like him to stand up before the school and tell them how he had fallen. but it was over now, and from his very soul he felt that he had done right. bob turner, sitting beside him, was quiet and sober; and when tip raised his arm with such a sudden jerk that he knocked his arithmetic to the floor, bob leaned over and quietly picked it up and laid it back in its place; which was a wonderful thing for bob turner to do. at noon the boys gathered around tip, quiet and kind; no one spoke of what had been _the_ important event of the morning; all were on good behaviour. ellis holbrook came into their midst. "tip," he said, speaking gravely, yet very coldly, "perhaps it would be as well for you to know that you made quite a blunder yesterday, when you said i told you wrong; i hadn't the slightest notion of telling you, right or wrong. but i know how you came to think so. i was looking out a word in mr. burrows' dictionary, and stood just behind you, when mr. bailey leaned over and asked me how many there were in your class when all were present, and i answered him, seven." tip looked perfectly astonished. "why didn't you say so yesterday?" he asked at last. "because you didn't give me a chance," ellis answered coolly. "i'm not in the habit of cheating, nor of being told that i do, so i was not prepared with an answer." "that's true," said tip, after a minute, answering the first part of ellis's sentence; "that's true, i didn't. i was mad, and i just banged off before anybody could say anything. i might have known you didn't do any such thing; it ain't like you." and tip walked away, leaving ellis to think that the boy who was so far below him had shown much the better spirit of the two. the busy day was drawing to a close; the last recitation was over, and the boys were in a state of grand excitement, waiting to hear the report of the committee; waiting to know whose names were to stand on the roll of honour, having passed through the entire examination without a mistake. poor tip was sad; yesterday morning he had felt so sure that his name would have an honourable place, and to him it was so much more exciting, because it would be for the first time. how hard he had worked; and now it was all lost! stupidly lost, too, he said to himself, over an example that he had done a dozen times; and he drew a heavy sigh, and roused himself to listen to the report. mr. burrows had already called for it, and mr. holbrook, as chairman of the committee, had arisen; but, instead of reading the report, said,-"mr. burrows, if there is time, i should like to say a few words to the scholars. boys, you were all listeners to edward lewis's examination yesterday, and i presume you know better than i do how hard he has worked. now, i think any one who watched him yesterday could not have failed to see that, had he not grown excited and nervous, he could have worked that example. mr. burrows, may i put a question to vote?" and mr. burrows giving a hearty consent, he continued, "very well. now i want every boy here, who is willing to allow edward lewis to go to the board _now_ and try that example, and, if he succeeds, give him the place which would have been his yesterday, to stand up." ellis holbrook was the first to spring to his feet, and every single boy in the room followed his example; tip alone sitting still, with burning cheeks. "well done," said mr. holbrook "now it only remains to get your teacher's consent to our plan." which mr. burrows gave by wheeling his table from before the blackboard and picking up an arithmetic. "you may come forward, edward. i will dictate the example; which one is it?" "the thirty-ninth, sir; fifty-first page." by this time tip was at the board. how they watched him! how fearful his teacher was for him! how he longed to have him succeed! tip worked fast and boldly; his hand did not tremble; chalk and fingers and brain did their duty; the terrible "nine in thirty-one, how many times," as a test for the larger number, was reached, and an unusually large and bold figure _three_ was placed in the quotient; a few more rapid dashes, and, with a grand flourish after the "seventeen remainder," tip threw down the chalk, pushed back the hair from his hot temples, and walked to his seat. the boys could not keep quiet any longer: a very soft tapping was heard at first, then, finding they were not silenced, it rose to a loud, decided stamping of many feet. but mr. holbrook was on _his_ feet again, and they were quiet directly, for the report was finally to be read. "my son," said mr. holbrook, not long after, laying his hand kindly on ellis's shoulder, as he was hurrying from the room, "what do you think of edward's religion to-night?" "i think it is honest, sir," ellis answered quickly. "excuse me, father, if you please; i must see howard a minute before he goes;" and so he ran away from his father's longing look. as for tip, he borrowed from howard minturn a copy of the village paper, which came out a few days after, and read the report of the examination; read this sentence: "and, among all the pupils, perhaps no one of them has made more rapid or astonishing progress than has edward lewis." then, while the twilight deepened, he turned eagerly to the next column, which read in this way:- "roll of honour; "being an alphabetically arranged list of those who passed the entire examination without making an error: willard bailey. ellis holbrook. harvey jennings. edward lewis." chapter xxii. "i will lead them in paths that they have not known." "see here, tip," called mr. minturn, appearing in his store door one morning not long after the examination; "i want to talk to you." tip swung his basket off his shoulder, and went into the store. he was at work for mr. dewey, and every piece of meat which he carried home took the form, in his eyes, of a latin grammar and a dictionary; for these two books were what he was at present aiming after. "i'm in a great hurry, mr. minturn," he said; "i've got a piece of meat for your folks in my basket, and i expect they want it." "they'll have to wait till they get it," answered mr. minturn; "but i never hinder folks long. what are you going to do with yourself, now school's out?" "oh, work; anything i can find to do while vacation lasts." "so you're going to keep on at school, are you? i thought likely, since your father was laid up, you'd he hunting for steady work, so you could help the family along. there's a hard winter coming, you know." there was no mistaking mr. minturn's tone. it said, as plainly as words could have done, "that's what i think you ought to do, anyhow." tip looked troubled. "there's nothing for me to do," he said at last; "i don't know of a place in this town where i could get steady work that i could do; and besides, if there was, i'm after an education now." "my brother is here from albany," mr. minturn made answer to this. "he is a merchant, has a large store there, and keeps a great many clerks. he's been plagued to death lately with one of his boys,--when he sent him home with bundles, he'd open them and help himself; and my brother told me last night, if i could warrant him a boy who was perfectly honest, he'd take him home with him, pay his fare down, and do well by him. i thought of you right away, and i told my brother that you were just the boy for him,--you'd be as true as steel; but then, if you're going to keep on at school, it's all up." mr. minium did not add, that he had kept his brother until eleven o'clock the night before, telling him tip's history,--what a boy he had been, how he had changed, how he was struggling upward; and, finally, the whole story of the examination,--the failure, the downfall, the public confession; nor how his brother had listened eagerly, and had said, with energy, after the story was finished,-"such a boy as that ought to be helped; and i'm ready to help him." none of this did tip hear, but he stooped down for his basket when mr. minturn had finished speaking, with a bright blush on his cheek. it was something for a boy like him to be called "as true as steel." "yes," he said decidedly; "i'm going to keep on at school, that's certain. thank you all the same." and out he went; yet all the way up and down the streets his thoughts were busy over what he had just heard. it was _time_, certainly, as poor as they were, that he began to work; his mother's sewing supported the family now, and hard and late into the nights she had to work to keep them from hunger. tip had thought of this question before, but had always comforted himself with the thought that work was not by any means an easy thing to get in the village; the odd jobs which he could find, out of school hours, being really the only things he could get to do. but no such comfort came to him to-day: here was a chance, and a splendid one, for getting steady work, and by and by good wages probably; why wasn't he glad? oh, ever since he gave himself to christ, there had been in his heart a longing to get an education, and not only that, but to become a minister. very small, faint hopes he had, and even those were frightened sometimes at their own boldness; but every day the desire grew stronger, and it did not seem as though he could possibly give up school now. it was out of the question, he told himself, just as he was beginning to enjoy his books so much, and was doing well. mr. burrows would be disappointed in him; he had encouraged him to study. no, it couldn't be done. he would consider the matter settled. and yet there was his mother, working day and night, and he, her only son, not helping. there was his father, growing weaker every day, coughing harder every night; long ago they had given up the hope that the cough would ever leave him. there was kitty, who ought to be in school, but could not because her mother _must_ have the little help which she could give. tip was half distracted with thinking about it; he felt provoked at mr. minturn, and mr. minturn's brother, and the store in albany, and the boy who helped himself out of other people's bundles; they were all trying to cheat him out of his education. a dozen times he said it was settled, and as many times began at the beginning to think it all over again. he went home finally, after the meat was carried around; but this didn't help him any. home hadn't gone back to its old state of dirt and disorder: kitty's first attempt had been too successful, and she had liked the looks of things too well to give up; so there was a great change for the better in the housekeeping, which both kitty and her mother enjoyed. still, there was no denying that, though a clean, it was a very forlorn little room, with very few things for comfort or convenience. tip had never seen this with such wide-open eyes as he did today; so coming home did not quiet the vexing thoughts. he split wood and pumped water without whistling a note, growing more sober every minute. at last, after supper, when the work was all done that he could do, he drew a sigh of relief; it was so nice to have time for thought. he could go up to his attic, and he would not come down, no, not if it wasn't in three days, until this thing was decided finally and for ever. kitty sewed steadily on the seam which her mother had fixed for her, and wondered why tip didn't come down and hear her lesson, which had been ready for him this hour. it was another hour before he came; then his mother said,-"tip, if you've a cent in the world, do take it, and go and get your father some of that cough-candy. i do believe he hasn't stopped coughing since supper." tip took his hat and started for the store; as he went he whistled a little. the cough-candy was found at a store away up town, and, getting a paper of it, tip dashed on around the corner and opened mr. minturn's store door. "when is your brother going home?" he asked, without ceremony, seeing mr. minturn behind the counter. "next monday." "well, i'm going to talk to father, and i think likely i'll want to go along with him." "all right." so tip slammed to the door and ran away and mr. minturn never knew what a downfall that decision had been to the boy's dear hopes and plans. it was all settled in the course of a day or two. mr. minturn from albany was very kind. tip was to have wages that seemed a small fortune to him, and enough had been advanced to get him a new suit of clothes, which his mother made. one would have supposed that the future would look bright to him; yet it was with a very sad heart that he took his seat in prayer-meeting that thursday evening, the last time he expected to be in that room for--he didn't know how long. he had a feeling that he ought to be very glad and thankful, and wasn't at all. through the opening hymns and prayers his heart kept growing heavier every moment, and it was not until mr. holbrook arose, and repeated the text which he had chosen for the evening, that tip could arouse himself to listen. it was a queer text, so he thought,--"who shall roll away the stone?" what could mr. holbrook be going to say on that? he found out, and had reason to remember it for ever after. as he went out from that meeting, his thoughts, had he spoken them, would have been like these: "that's true,--i don't believe any man but mr. holbrook would ever have thought of it: they worried at a great rate about that stone, how they would get it rolled away, and when they got there it was gone. i'll remember that. i'll do just as he said: when i see a stone ahead of me, i won't stop and fret about it; i'll walk straight up to it, and when i get there maybe it will roll out of my way." chapter xxiii. "a word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver." behold tip, now in albany, far away from home and friends, from every one that he had ever seen before, save mr. howard minturn, young howard's uncle. but he had been there some time, and was growing into a settled-at-home feeling. it had been a wonderful change to him. mr. minturn did not board his clerks; but for some reason, best known to himself, he had taken tip home with him. for a few days the boy felt as though the roses on the carpets were made of glass, and would smash if he stepped on them. but he was getting used to it all; he could sit squarely on his chair at the table instead of on the edge, spread his napkin over his lap as the others did, and eat his pie with a silver fork under the light of the sparkling gas. "mother," said little alice minturn, "why does father have edward board here, and sit at the table with us?" "because, alice, your father wants to help him in every way; your uncle minturn thinks he is an unusually good, smart boy." "i think so too," said alice, and was satisfied. and tip lewis was tip no longer; no one knew him by that name; every one there said "edward," save the store clerks, and they called him "ed." he had a queer feeling sometimes that he was somebody else, and that tip lewis, whom he used to know so well, would be very much astonished if he could see him now. he went into sabbath school, and became a member of mr. minturn's bible class; but teachers were scarce, and before he had been there three weeks mr. minturn sent him to take charge of a class of very little boys, who called him "mr. lewis," and made him feel strange and tall. he began to realize that he was almost sixteen years old, and growing very fast. he was leading a very busy life now-a-days; at work all day, in and for the store, and in the evening doing all he could with his books. those books and his love for them were a great safeguard to him, kept him away from many a temptation to go astray; and yet it was hard work to accomplish much in the little time he had, and with no helper. sometimes he sighed wearily, and felt as though the road was full of stones. "i pity you, old fellow," one of the younger clerks said to him one evening, as they were leaving the store. "i don't know for what," was the good-natured answer. "why, mr. minturn's pink of a perfect and wonderful and altogether amazing son ray has just got home from the university; saw him pass the store not an hour ago, leaning back in the carriage like a prince." "what's he?" asked edward. "he's a prig; that's what he is." "what's a prig?" "ho! you're a greeney, if you don't know what a prig is. wait till he snubs you and lords it over you awhile; then i guess you'll know. he'll have a good chance, seeing you're right there at the house all the while. i wouldn't be in your shoes for a penny." spite of its making him a great greeney, edward did not know what a prig was; but, judging from his companion's tone, he decided that it must be something very disagreeable. he went home feeling cross and uncomfortable, wishing that ray were anybody in the world rather than mr. minturn's son, or anywhere else rather than at home. he was beginning to have such a nice time there; they were all so kind to him, and really seemed to like him. it was too bad to have it all spoiled. "i know what kind of a fellow he is," he muttered to himself; "he's like that mr. symonds who comes to the store twice a week or so after kid gloves, and acts as if he thought he was a great deal too good to ask me a decent question. my! i wish he was in texas." the dining-room was a blaze of light when he peeped in, soon after the family were gathered waiting for mr. minturn. the newcomer sat on the sofa, one arm a-round little alice, and the other resting gently on his mother's lap. edward guessed, by his mother's face, that she did _not_ wish he was in texas. mr. minturn came in presently, and edward stole into the room just behind him; but alice called him eagerly: "edward, ray has come! come over here and see him." "go ahead," said mr. minturn, as edward stood still, with very red cheeks; and ray sat up and held out his hand. "how do you do, edward? alice has been making me acquainted with you this afternoon, so you're not a stranger." how very clear and kind his tones were! edward was astonished. that same evening he was more astonished. he was in the library, at work over his books; mr. minturn had to go to a committee meeting, expecting to be detained late; as he arose from the dinner-table, he said,-"how am i to get in to-night? here's my night-key in two pieces." "i'll be night-key, sir," said edward promptly. "well, you may; you can take your books to the library, and have a long evening to pore over them." so he was there, poring over them with all his might, when the door opened gently, and ray minturn came in. "are you hard at work?" he asked kindly. "yes, sir," said edward, wishing he would go out again. but he didn't seem in a hurry to do so; he took a book from the case, and glanced over it a moment, then came towards edward. "what are you studying?" "fractions," answered edward briefly. "do you have any trouble?" "yes, lots," speaking a little crossly, for he wanted to go on with his work; "i can't get this one i'm at, to save my head." "suppose i see what is the matter." and bay drew a chair to the table and sat down, glancing his eye over the slate. "rather, suppose you see for yourself," he said in a few moments. "just run over that multiplication at the top of the slate." "oh, bother!" edward said, after he had obeyed orders; "that figure three has made me all this trouble." "smaller things than figure threes make trouble. have you been to school lately?" "always, till i came here; but i might just as well have been out until last winter." "what happened last winter?" "lots of things," answered edward, with brightening eyes. but he didn't seem disposed to state any of them; so, after waiting a little, ray asked,-"wouldn't you get on faster with your books if you had a teacher?" "think likely i should; but i haven't got any, so i'll have to get on as fast as i can." "how would it do if i should play teacher while i am at home, and give you the hour from nine till ten?" edward laid down his pencil, turned his eyes for the first time full upon kay, and looked at him in silent astonishment. "do you mean it?" he asked at last. "certainly i do; i shouldn't say so if i didn't. don't you think you would like it?" "like it! i guess i would. but i don't know--what do you do it for?" "because i am glad to help a boy who seems to be trying to help himself. we will consider it settled, then. it is ten o'clock; will you come out to prayers now?" and at this the astonished look on edward's face deepened. "is mr. minturn here?" he asked. "no; but his son is. are you so surprised that i should have prayers in my father's absence?" "yes," said edward; "i didn't know--i mean i didn't think"-"you didn't think i had learned to pray, perhaps. thank god, i have." then he laid his hand kindly on edward's shoulder. "have _you_ learned that precious lesson yet, my friend?" "yes," said edward softly; "a good while ago." "i am very glad; you will never learn anything else that is quite so important. what is all the study for, by the way? have you any plans.'" "yes," said edward, astonished at what he was about to tell to a stranger; "i want to get an education, and then, if i possibly _can_ do that, i want to be a minister." ray's hand fell from his shoulder, and when he answered this, his voice was low and a little sad: "god bless you, and help you. i hope you will never have to give it up." edward made up his mind that night that a prig meant the best and kindest,--yes, and the wisest young man in the world. chapter xxiv. "whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." the long, bright summer days and the glowing autumn days were gone; mid-winter was upon them. during all this time edward was hard at work; there was plenty of business to be done at the store. he had been promoted; very rarely, now-a-days, was he called on to carry home purchases, or to do errands. he had his counter and his favourite customers. there had been another change, too, which edward felt sure ray had had a hand in; ray had a hand in everything that was good and thoughtful. he had long evenings for study now; he came up to dinner with mr. minturn at six o'clock, and had no further work to do until the next day. oh, those long evenings! what rapid progress he made! what a teacher ray was! could a boy help getting on who was so carefully and kindly led? what was _not_ ray to him?--teacher, friend, brother; constant, unfailing, loving guide. edward was learning to love him with an almost worship. meantime, every one saw better than did edward himself how he had changed. he had not been in constant intercourse with a christian family, who lived their religion every day and every hour, for nothing; his improvement had been constant and rapid. he came home from the post office one evening with his hands full of letters, among them a very queer-looking one for himself. he carried the others to the library, and his own to his room. such an odd letter as it was! he was glad it was his business to get the mail, and that none of the other clerks had seen this, with his name written at the very top of the envelope, and written "tip" at that. how oddly it looked, and how queerly it sounded when he said it over! it was so long since he heard that name, he never wanted to again. he was glad that ray minturn had never called him tip, nor heard him called so. who could it be from? nobody wrote to him except kitty, and once in a long while his mother; but this was no home-letter. at last he broke the seal, and read:-"deer tip,--mother's dead, i feel bad, you kno that, so what's the use? i've got to go to work. i like you better than any of the other felows, always did. can't i com out there to your store and work, i'll behave myself reel wel; i _will_, honour bright, if you'll git me a place. i've got money enuff to get there. i dug potatoes for old williams and earned it. rite to me rite off that's a good fellow. i want to com awful. bob turner." edward was thunderstruck! he dropped the letter on the floor in disgust. what was to be done now? the idea of having bob turner there was perfectly dreadful; besides, thank fortune! it was impossible. they wanted more help, to be sure, had been looking out for a boy that very day, but not such a one as bob,--that was out of the question; and yet--bob's mother was dead! in his rude, careless way, bob had loved his mother rather better than he had any one else, and edward did not doubt that he felt badly. he was without friends now; surely he needed one if he ever did. but it was _so_ disagreeable to think of having him there,--he was so different from any of the others, and he would call _him_ tip, and be always around in his way; would seem to lead him back to the old life from which he thought he had escaped altogether. it was not to be thought of for a moment. but then--and now came a startling thought. how long he had been praying for bob! perhaps this was the way in which god meant to answer, by giving him a chance to work as well as pray. perhaps he ought to be _willing_ to have him come. no matter how much the clerks might make fun of him for having such a friend; no matter how much pain and annoyance it might cause him; if this was god speaking to him to help his brother, how dreadful it would be to make no answer! he sat down to think about it; his algebra lay open before him; he was not quite ready for kay, but he could not attend to algebra now. "let me see," he said; "if there _should_ be such a thing as that bob could come, what would i do for him? one of two things is certain, either he'll lead me or i shall him; we always did when we were together much. which will it be? if he leads me, he'll lead me into mischief, just as sure as the world; if i lead _him_, i'll try to keep him out of mischief. it's clear that i ought to be the leader. now, how would i do it, i wonder? bob ought to be a christian; he won't be safe two minutes at a time until he is. if god says anything, he says he'll hear prayer. if i believe that, why don't i pray for bob, so that he'll be converted? i _do_ pray for him always, but it's kind of half-way praying--kind of as if i thought it was a pretty hard thing for god to do after all. that's wrong. god wants him safe, and he knows he isn't safe now, and he's willing to help him; it must be my fault that he don't. my business and lessons, and all that sort of thing, are putting bob and ellis, and even father, pretty much out of my thoughts. that's wrong too, and must be stopped. mr. minturn says a thing is never half done that hasn't a corner in the day belonging to itself. i'll try that rule. after this, every evening at half-past eight, i'll come up here to my room and lock the door, and i'll pray for bob; i'll pray as though i expected an answer, and was going to be on the look-out for it. i won't let anything hinder me from coming at just that time, unless it's something that i can't help. meantime, i'll get him a place if i can." edward was as straightforward as tip had been; this point decided, he went down-stairs to the library door, and knocked. mr. minturn was alone, and busy; but he looked up as edward entered in answer to his "come in." "well, sir, what is it?" "have you time for a little piece of business?" "always time for business; sit down. what is it about?" "have you found a boy yet?" "no. have you?" "yes, sir; there's a boy out home who wants to come; i've just had a letter from him. his name is turner--bob turner." "is he a good boy?" "no, sir." "well, that's plain! what are you talking about, then?" "i want you to make him a good boy, sir." "humph! that's an idea. i can't make boys over new. is he honest?" "no, sir, i don't think he is very,--not what you mean by honest; but his mother is dead, and he hasn't any friends; he goes with a miserable set of fellows, and he'll get worse than he is in no time if he stays there." "and the whole of it is, you think it's my duty to let him come, and try to save, him! suppose i should, what would you do for your share?" "i'd try, too." "how?" "why, i'd try to get him to do right." "suppose he should try to get you to do wrong?" "he couldn't!" said edward positively. "how did you find that out?" "because i should pray for myself every day, and for bob too; and god hears prayer." "yes, but god's people sometimes get very far away from him; if this bob should lead _you_ astray, i'd be sorry i ever heard of him." "i don't feel much afraid," edward said, speaking this time in a more quiet, less positive tone, "for i never go wrong when i pray often; pray about everything that comes up, you know, and mean what i pray for." "humph!" said mr. minturn; "that's a good idea; i guess you're pretty safe under _that_ rule." "besides," said edward, reserving one of his best arguments till the last, "i know somebody who would help bob ever so much,--mr. ray would find him out." mr. minturn's eyes grew bright, and he smiled a half sad smile. "yes," he said, "that's true enough; ray can't come near anybody without helping him. well, write to the boy to come on; we'll try him. has he anything to come with?" "yes, sir, he says he has money enough to get here." and edward went away glad, for he had begun to be very willing to have bob there. chapter xxv. "if ye abide in me, and my word abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you." edward got up one morning feeling years older than he had only the morning before,--older and graver, feeling a great responsibility resting on his shoulders; for he was the weary frame, racked with so many pains, was at last at rest. kitty had written just a line, telling the sad story, but it did not reach him until nearly a week after; and with it came mr. holbrook's,--a long letter, full of tender sympathy, telling all about how, in the afternoon of an early spring day, they had laid his father by johnny's side. edward read on eagerly, until he came to this sentence: "my dear boy, i have a most precious message for you. i was with him only an hour before he died, and at that time he said to me, 'i want you to tell tip that god has heard his prayer, and saved his father; and that i shall watch for him to come to heaven, and bring all the rest.' and, edward, i haven't a shade of doubt but that your father is with his redeemer; you must let me quote again a verse which i once gave you: 'i love the lord, because he has heard my voice and my supplications.'" and at this point the letter dropped from his hand, and edward shed his first tears for his father. it was curious, the different ways that mr. minturn and his son had of expressing sympathy. "oh," mr. minturn said, when he was told, "why in the world didn't they send for you?" "because, sir, my father died very suddenly, and my mother thought i could not afford to come so far for the funeral." "afford! as if that would have made any difference. did they think i would let it cost _you_ anything?" edward showed mr. holbrook's letter to ray after that; and when it had been read, expressed the feeling which had been much in his heart ever since the news came, and which had been strengthened by mr. monturn's words: "i shall always be sorry that i could not have gone to the funeral." and bay answered, resting his arm, as he spoke, lightly on edward's shoulder, to express the tenderness which he felt, "no you won't, my dear fellow; when you get up there, in the glory of the redeemer's presence, and meet your father face to face, you will not remember to be sorry that you did not see him _buried_." meantime bob had come, and been set at work. he did not board at mr. minturn's. edward had heard that matter arranged with a little sigh of relief; his precious hour with ray, then, would be undisturbed. bob was doing very much better than anybody who knew him would have imagined he _could_ do; he seemed to have made up his mind to behave himself, sure enough. yet his being there was a trial to edward in several ways: he had a great horror of being called "tip;" that name belonged to the miserable, ragged, friendless, hopeless boy who used to wander around the streets in search of mischief, not to the young man who was a faithful clerk in one of the finest stores in albany, besides being a teacher in sabbath school, and a very fair scholar in latin and algebra. but bob turner could not be made to understand all this; and though he stared at the neat black suit which edward wore, and opened his eyes wide when mr. minturn went and came in company with his old companion, and honoured him in many ways, he still called him "tip," in clear, round tones, that rang through the store a dozen times a day. but there was nothing which ray could not smooth over, so edward thought, when one evening he flounced into the library with a very much disturbed face. "i wish that fellow knew anything," he said angrily. "what is the matter now?" bay asked, meeting the bright, angry eyes with a quiet smile. edward laughed a little. "well, i can't help feeling vexed; bob screeches that hateful little name after me wherever i go. i despise that name, and i wish he could be made to understand it." "how did you happen to be called tip at first?" "why," said edward, turning over the leaves of his dictionary, "my little sister kitty made it up before she could talk plain. how she ever got that name out of edward, i don't know; i'm sure i wish she had been asleep when she did it; but that's what she called me, and that's what i've been ever since." "and did johnny, the little boy that died, ever call you so?" edward's eyes began to grow soft. "often," he said gently; "and it was about the only name he could speak; he was a little fellow." "well, edward, i should not think it would be such a very disagreeable name to you, when your father, who is gone, always used it, and always in kindness, you told me; and it is the only name by which little johnny can remember you. there are two things to be thought of in this matter," ray continued, after a moment, finding edward not disposed to speak: "one is, if you hope to do anything with this old companion of yours, you must be ready to take worse things from him than a quiet, inoffensive little name like that; he will learn your right name, perhaps, in time. and the other is--what is bob turner's right name, my friend?" edward's face flushed, his lips quivered into a little smile, then he laughed outright. "it would be ridiculous to call _him_ robert!" he said, still laughing. "ray, here's my exercise, if you want it now." and ray heard no more complaints about the offending little name. "say, tip, just go home with me to-night," bob coaxed one evening, as edward, having been detained late at the store, was leaving just as bob was closing the shutters. "mr. ray's head is so bad you won't have any plaguy lessons to-night to hinder you. every single fellow in the store but me is going to the theatre, and i am awful lonesome up there alone." "it is a wonder you are not going too," said edward. "no, it ain't. i can keep a promise once in a while, i reckon. that ray minturn can do anything with a fellow, and i was fool enough to promise him that i wouldn't go. come, go up home with me; do, that's a good fellow!" "no," said edward decidedly, "i can't." "now, tip lewis, i think you're real mean; you don't never come to see me no more than if i was in guinea. you act as if you were ashamed of me, and i keep my word and behave myself, too; and you're a mean, chicken-hearted fellow, if you're ashamed to notice me now-a-days, just because you board in a big house and dress like a dandy." "poh!" said edward; "what nonsense that is! i'd look well being ashamed of any one that minturn talked with. but, bob, i can't go to-night, nor any other night just about this time; because i made a promise that i'd do something else, at exactly half-past eight, and that nothing in the world should hinder me if i could help it; and it can't be far from half-past eight now." bob eyed him curiously. "tip, you're the oddest fellow born, i do believe," he said at last "is it lessons?" "no, it's nothing about lessons." "couldn't i _help_ you to do it?" "yes," said edward, after a thoughtful silence; "you _could_ help me better than any one else, only you won't." "well, now," bob answered earnestly, "as sure as i'm alive, i will, if you'll tell me what it is; i'll help you this very night." "do you promise?" asked edward. "yes, i do, out and out; and when i promise a thing through and through, why, _you_ know, tip lewis, that i do it." "well," said edward, as he tried the door to see that all was safe before leaving, "then i'll tell you. every night, at exactly half-past eight, i go to my room and ask god over and over again to make you want to be a christian." not a single word did bob answer to this; he took long strides up the street by the side of edward in the direction of mr. mintern's, never once speaking until they had reached the door, and stood waiting to be let in; then he said, "tip, that's mean." "what is?" "to get a fellow to promise what he can't do." "i have not. don't you want to be a christian?" "no; i can't say that i'm particular about it." "but that's too silly to believe. you need a friend to help you about as badly as any one i know of, and when you can have one for the asking, why shouldn't you want him? besides, i didn't say _make_ you a christian, anyhow; i said make you _want_ to be one. you can pray, that _i'm_ sure; any way, you promised, and i trusted you." bob followed him through the hall, up the stairs, to his neat little room, and whistled "hail, columbia," while he lighted a match and turned on the gas. "my! you have things in style here, don't you?" he said, looking around, while the bright light gleamed over the pretty carpet and shining furniture. "yes," said edward; "everything in this house is in style. bob, it's half-past eight." "well," bob said good-naturedly, "i'd like to know what i'm to do; this is new business to me, you see." "i'm going to kneel down here and pray for you, and you promised to do the same." edward knelt at his bedside, and bob, half laughing, followed his example. but christ must have been praying too, and putting words into edward's heart to say. by and by, in spite of himself, bob had to put up his hand and dash away a tear or two. he had never heard himself prayed for before. that evening was one to be remembered by bob turner, for more than one reason. bay sent for both of the boys to come to his room; he was sick, but not too sick to see and talk with bob whenever he could get a chance. he made the half-hour spent with him so pleasant, that bob gave an eager assent to the request that he would come often. more than that, he kept his word; and as often as he passed edward's door, towards nine o'clock, he stepped lightly, for he knew that he was being prayed for, and there began to come into his heart a strange longing to pray for himself. one evening he discovered that ray, too, prayed every night for him, and the vague notion grew into a certainty, that what they two were so anxious about for him, he ought to desire for himself. "ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you." edward had taken this promise into his heart; he was trying to live up to the condition to abide in christ, and in due season god made his promise sure. "i wish," bob said to ray one evening when the weary head was full of pain,--"i _do_ wish i could do something for you." "you can," ray answered quickly,--"something that i would like better than almost anything else in the world." "what is it?" bob's question was sincere and eager. "give yourself to christ." bob heard this in grave, earnest silence. "i would," he said after a minute, "if i knew how." "do you mean that?" "yes, i do; i'm sick of waiting, and i'm sick of myself." "if i should tell you how, would you do it?" "yes, i would," spoken evidently with honest meaning. "kneel down, then, here beside me, and say to god that you want to be a christian; that you are willing to give yourself up to him now and for ever, to do just as he tells you." bob hesitated, struggling a little, and at last knelt down. there was silence in the room, while three sincere hearts were lifted up in prayer; and surely christ bent low to listen. when bob would have risen, bay laid one hand on his arm, and, steadying his throbbing head with the other, said solemnly,-"blessed redeemer, here is a soul given up to thee. do thou take it, and wash it in thy precious blood, and make it fit for heaven. we ask boldly, because thou hast promised, and we know that thy promises are sure." "edward," ray said the next evening, as they sat alone, and were silent for a little, after bob had left them, and gone home rejoicing in the hope of sins washed away, "what was that verse that your minister at home quoted for you in his letter?" "i love the lord, because he has heard my voice and my supplication," edward repeated it with brightening eyes. chapter xxvi. "and when they looked, they saw that the stone was rolled away." onward sped the busy days, until at last there came an evening which made it exactly three years since edward had first set foot in albany. they had been years of wonderful progress to him. he had gone on steadily with his evening studies; he had been an eager pupil, and ray had been a faithful teacher. this evening he sat in the library waiting for ray, but he had a very troubled face. once more he took kitty's long letter out of his pocket. kitty wrote long letters once in two weeks, but it was a rare thing to have a postscript added by his mother. he turned to this and read it again; it was a very kind one. they were doing well now, so she wrote. her health was very good, now that she slept quietly at night; and just here edward knew there had come in a heavy sigh, because there was no constant coughing to disturb her rest. she had steady work, and could support kitty and herself nicely without his help; he must keep what he earned for himself after this. "kitty says you want to go to school," so the letter ran; "if you do, save up your money for that. your poor father had a notion that you would make a scholar; i think it would please him if you did." surely he could not wish for a kinder, more thoughtful letter than this; coming from his _mother_, too! she must have changed much, as well as himself. but this very letter had greatly unsettled his quiet life; the old longing to give himself up to study, to prepare for the ministry, had broken loose, and well-nigh overwhelmed him with its power. he wanted it, oh, so much! it had grown strong, instead of weak, during these three years. but what to do, and how to do it? that was the question. certainly he was not prepared to answer it. if he stayed where he was, led his busy life all day in the store, how was he ever to go through with the necessary course of study, which it was high time he commenced in earnest? if he left them, these dear friends, who had taken him into their home and hearts, and made him feel like one of thorn, how was he to live while he studied? how, indeed, could he study at all? the truth was, edward, calling to mind mr. holbrook's lecture that last evening in the home prayer-meeting, and his resolution taken then, thought that the stone was ahead of him no longer, but that he had walked _close_ up to it, and could not take another step because of it, and very large and impossible to move did it look to his shortsighted eyes. just as he was growing hopelessly moody, lay came in, and settled himself among the cushions, rather wearily. "ray," said edward anxiously, "you are not well enough for lessons to-night." "no," answered ray, smiling, however, as he spoke; "i think i am not, because i want to talk instead. i am full of a scheme which needs your help; for once we'll let the lessons go. it is an age since i have heard anything concerning your plans; you have not given up your desire for the ministry, i hope?" "no, ray; i shall never give that up." "i thought not; it would not be like you. that being the case, isn't it time to do something definite?" "time, certainly," edward answered gloomily; "but what's to do?" "that brings me to the unfolding of my scheme. edward, do you know that it was my lifelong desire to reach the point towards which you are looking?" "_no_," said edward, with pitying interest; "i never thought of it." "well," and ray smiled sadly, "it is so; and i hope you may never know how hard it is to have to give up such a wish. i cannot say that i did actually give it up entirely until very lately. i gave up all study three years ago, and came home to regain strength! _you_ know how well i have succeeded in that." and ray pressed his thin, wasting hand across his damp forehead. "it is all over now, _utterly_." the hand did duty now for a moment, shading his eyes from the light. presently he spoke more cheerily. "all over for myself, but not for you; so, edward, what i want to say to-night, in brief, is this: you have talents, perseverance, and health; i have money,--the four combined cannot fail to speed you in your work. what say you?" "i--i don't understand you," edward spoke, in complete bewilderment. "let me speak more plainly. i want you to go now, _immediately_, to some good preparatory school, thence to college, thence to the seminary, and the means wherewith to do these three important things shall be at your disposal. isn't that plain?" "why," said edward, "i don't know what to say; i am too much astonished, and--and thankful." "then you will do it?" "only,--ray?" "well?" "isn't there a right kind of pride, about being helped in these things?" "there is a great deal of wrong kind of pride. let me show you;" and he sat up and spoke eagerly. "it is right and honourable for people to help themselves in this world, but very vain and foolish to refuse help which would greatly aid the cause that they profess to have at heart. you see how it is: god has given me money; i am ready and waiting to give it back to him. i would gladly give myself to him in the ministry; i have longed and prayed for this; but he has seen fit not to answer as i wished. i have no strength to give; you have, and are ready to give it. do you think god would be less pleased with the offering if we united it, thus giving me a chance to do something?" "no," said edward, speaking very slowly; "only, i had hoped to accomplish my plans without help from any one but god." ray leaned back again among the cushions, and spoke wearily,-"that is, you prefer to be a great many years longer in preparation than you need be, and have about half as much strength finally as you would have, had you not overworked, rather than give me a chance to do what i could, since i cannot do what i would." "but, ray, there are plenty of people to help, even if you do no more for me. the world is full of poor young men, struggling to get an education." "yes, that is so; and i suppose you would enjoy helping some young man out in oregon, of whom you had never heard, quite as well as you would me." edward came quickly to the sofa where ray was lying, and laid his hand tenderly over the closed eyes. "ray, there is nothing in the world i would not do for you." "will you let me help you into the ministry, as rapidly as money _can_ help?" "i will be glad to; it is a great, noble offer, and i thank you from my heart. you mustn't think that i don't; only i thought--perhaps" "i know," said ray, for edward had stopped doubtfully; "i understand just how you feel; but i _do_ think the feeling, in this case at least, is wrong; and, my dear brother, you will be glad when you know how thankful you have made me." "yes; and after all you will not be doing any more for me--you _can't_--than you have done. i think money is very little, compared with that. ray," and edward sank down among the cushions in front of him, "i do believe you are more to me than any other human being ever will be." ray smiled, quite as if he did not think so, but would not unsay it for anything. "it is all right," he said gently, after a little silence. "i think you will do so much more than i ever _could_ have done. god bless you, my dear brother!" after that edward went up to his room, got out his little red bible, his precious lamp, and, opening at the history of the rock-bound grave, read on until he came to the verse, "and when they looked, they saw that the stone was rolled away." around this he made heavy marks with his pencil, thinking, meantime, that the angel of the lord was still at work on earth. "bob," said edward, stopping before bob's counter, two days after this matter was settled, "i am going to start for home in the morning." "are you, though?" bob answered eagerly, stopping his work to take the sentence in fully. "my! i wish i was going along, just to see what folks would say." "about _you_, do you mean?" said edward, laughing, and thinking wonderingly, as well as joyfully, of the change which there had been in bob turner. bob had a counter too, and was no longer an errand-boy; there had very rarely been known such a rapid promotion in that store; but the truth was, mr. minturn had early learned that bob turner was destined to be, not a minister, nor a lawyer, not even a scholar, but a thorough, energetic, successful merchant. he had no sooner made this discovery than he determined to give the boy a chance. so bob had earned a name and a place in the store, and was a general favourite with the other clerks, and was beginning to have customers who sought him out, and liked to make purchases of him. more than all, bob was an earnest christian; his loving tenderness for, and almost worship of, ray minturn, kept him from being much led into temptation, and his influence over the younger clerks was growing to be for good. he was destined to be more popular than edward had been; for edward had risen too rapidly, and was too much at home with the entire minturn family, not to be looked upon with some degree of envy. "well, tip,"--bob had never learned not to say tip, and probably never would, but edward had long since forgotten to care,--"tell every one at home that i'm well and happy, and never want to see one of them again. i don't believe i have a friend there: anyhow, i know i don't deserve to have." chapter xxvii. "wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? by taking heed thereto, according to thy word." kitty lewis shook out the folds of her new bright pink calico dress, walked to the little looking-glass, for about the tenth time, to see if the dainty white ruffle around her neck was in order; then took a survey of the room, lest there might possibly be something else to do which would improve its appearance. it was the same little room in which kitty had spent her childhood, from which johnny first, and then long afterwards the husband and father, had been carried out to return no more. and yet it was not the same,--there was a neat rag carpet on the floor, a christmas gift from mrs. minturn; the round table in the corner was covered with a bright red cloth, and strewn with a few books and papers; the full white curtain was looped away from the window, and the light of a clear sunset glimmered in the room; everything was neat and bright and cheery. the table was set for tea, the white cloth showing just the folds in which it was ironed; there were three plates and three cups and saucers, instead of two, while kitty, in her restless wanderings around the room, and mrs. lewis, in her frequent glances out of the window, both showed that somebody was being watched and waited for. "the eastern train is in," kitty said finally "now, if he comes to-night, he'll be here in three minutes." and it could not have been much more than that when a quick, crushing step was heard on the gravel outside, then on the plank before the door, then the door swung open, and edward lewis walked into the little room out of which he had gone three years before. kitty was all ready to spring forward, say, "oh, tip!" and throw her arms right around his neck. instead, she stood still. some way, in spite of the long letters which had passed between them during these years, kitty had fully expected to see a stout, tanned boy, in a strong, coarse suit of grey, with thick boots and a new straw hat. of, at least,--why, of course, she knew he must have changed some; hadn't she? but then she did _not_ think he would be so tall, and have a face and hands without tan or freckle, or that his clothes would be so _very_ black and fine, and fit as though they had grown on him, or that his collar would be so white and glossy, or his boots so small and shiny. so kitty stood still in embarrassed silence. but the mother,--oh, she saw in him the picture of the dear, dead father, as he used to come to her long, long ago; the husband who, through all change and poverty and pain, she had _always_ loved! and all the tenderness that had ever been in her heart took form, and spoke in those words with which she came forward to greet her son,--"oh, my _dear_ boy!" there was happiness in the little home that night; only the bedroom door was closed, and edward knew that his father's bed was vacant. such a queer feeling as possessed him all the next day, while he went around the village! he went _every_where. he felt like walking through every street, and stepping on every stone on which his feet had trod in the old life, now utterly gone from him. he wandered down to the river-bank, where he had lain that summer morning and envied the fishes; and, standing there, thanked god for the mission class in mr. holbrook's sabbath school. thence to the cemetery, where by the side of little johnny's grave the new life had been commenced. there was a long grave beside the short one now; and, standing there, he thanked god for the hope which he had of meeting the father and the baby in heaven. thence to the great elm-tree at the foot of the hill; and, standing there, he took out once more the little red bible, and turned the leaves lovingly; lingered over the name written by mr. holbrook's hand, turned again to the first verse which he had ever read from its pages: "thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." time and again had he proved the truth of that verse. there, under that very tree, it had helped him to fight battles with satan and come off conqueror. and he thanked god for the bible. after that he went directly to the village; just looked in at the meat market for the sake of the old days. somebody told mr. dewey who was coming, and he was just ready to say, "hallo, tip!" but instead, he came around from behind the counter, and, holding out his hand, said, "how do you do, lewis? glad to see you." something, either in the city-made clothes or the quiet air of dignity with which they were worn, made him dislike to say "hallo, tip!" to the tall young man before him. mr. minturn shook him heartily by the hand. "never rejoiced over any one's luck more in my life!" he said; then, in the same breath, "how's ray? oh yes, i see how it is, poor fellow! and you love him too; of course, every one does." there was still the schoolroom to visit, and as edward went up the familiar walk he wished bob turner could have been with him to make this call. but bob was probably rushing like a top through the city store, without a thought of the old schoolhouse or the miserable days which he had spent there. mr. burrows himself answered the knock, and gave him a hearty greeting. three years had made changes there. edward found himself looking eagerly towards the back row of seats fur the old faces,--will, howard, ellis, and half a dozen others,--before he remembered that they had long since entered higher schools. the boys whom he hid left plodding through long division were filling those back seats now, and leading their classes in algebra and latin. he sat down near the blackboard to watch the progress of joe bartlett through an example in division. and behold, he was doing that old never-to-be-forgotten example about the cows and sheep! he picked up an arithmetic eagerly. "mr. burrows, do you remember that example?' "i remember that it has puzzled some forty or more of my boys in the course of time," said mr. burrows, laughing; "but nothing very special about it." "i do; it was the cause of my first promotion." "was it, indeed! i'm afraid it will never be the cause of poor joseph's; it seems to be mastering him." mr. burrows was engaged with a grammar class, and edward offered to assist the bewildered joseph. "i remember those sheep of old," he said kindly, as he turned to the board. "isn't it the 'stood him in' that troubles you?" "yes, it is," joe answered grumbly. "i don't see no sense to it." "let me show you. suppose"--and he went through with the well--remembered explanation. it was successful, joe understood it, and went on briskly with the figures. edward turned towards mr. burrows. "it was the way my father explained it to me," he said, with eyes that glistened a little. some one brought mr. burrows a note, and, as he read and laid it down, he said, "now, edward, if you had continued at school instead of running away from us, i should get you to hear this recitation in algebra, and take leave of absence for a few minutes. there is a friend in town whom i would give much to see before the next train leaves." "suppose you set me at it as it is." mr. burrows looked surprised. "have you been studying algebra, edward?" "somewhat." "how far have you been?" "through." "do you feel _positive_ that you could do examples over here?" turning to "evolution." "_entirely,"_ edward answered, smiling at mr. burrows' doubts. ray had been a thorough teacher. so mr. burrows went away, and edward took his seat on the stage and commenced the recitation. at first the boys were disposed to be wise, and display their knowledge; when they had known him last, he was in division. but he was in algebra now, or rather through it, and they speedily discovered that he seemed to have every example in the lesson committed to memory. meantime, mr. burrows returned, and listened with astonishment and delight. "thank you heartily," he said afterwards. "you ought to fit yourself for teaching. but, edward, you did not get through algebra alone?" "no," said edward, flushing at the thought of ray; "i had the best and wisest teacher on earth." well, he sat down in what had been his seat, and tried to imagine that it was his seat still; that bob would be in pretty soon, and plague him while he studied his spelling-lesson. but he could not do it. "things were different,"--very different. first and foremost, there was ray: he had not known _him_ in those days; if he had, he said to himself, things would have been different long before they were. going back up town he met mr. holbrook, who turned and walked with him. "and so," he said, after the long talk was concluded, "you go next week, do you?" "next tuesday, sir." "well, god bless you, my friend, as he has, and will." then, after a minute, "edward, my son is a wanderer yet: do you still remember him?" "always, sir," edward answered, in firm, steady tones; "and, mr. holbrook, god _never_ forgets!" as he went on past mr. minturn's store, could he have heard the remarks that were made there, very likely he might have remembered a certain statement which he made to the little fishes that summer morning. mr. minturn, looking out after him, said to mr. dewey,-"there goes one of the finest and most promising young men in this town." "yes," answered mr. dewey, laughing a little; "i used to notice that he improved every day after he brought back those circus tickets." chapter xxviii. "for them shalt find it after many days." "come in;" and the rev. edward lewis laid down his book, pushed back his study chair, and was ready to receive whoever was knocking at his study door. "mr. lewis," said the little girl who came in in answer to his invitation, "father has just come from the post office, and he brought you some letters, and here they are." mr. lewis thanked his little next-door neighbour, took his letters, and, when the room was quiet again, settled back in his chair to enjoy them. the first one was from a brother minister, begging an exchange. the next brought a look of surprise and delight to his face, for he recognised ellis holbrook's handwriting. and the delight spread and deepened as he read; especially when he came to one sentence: "i asked father what message he had for you, and he replied, send him this verse, and tell him that again it is peculiarly his, 'i love the lord, because he has heard my voice and my supplication.'" that, you see, would have told me the whole story, without this long letter. "i thank god that he put it into your heart to pray for me, as also that he has heard your prayers. god bless you. by the way, father wants you to assist him on the first sabbath in july. i earnestly hope you can do so; he thinks you will be coming east about that time." was there ever a more thankful heart than was that minister's as he laid down his old schoolfellow's letter? how constantly, how sometimes almost hopelessly, had he prayed for ellis holbrook! how many times had he been obliged to reassure himself with the promise, "in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." and now again had god's word been verified to him. he took the letter up once more, to look lovingly at that closing, never before written by ellis,--"your brother in christ." there was still another letter to read. that writing, too, was familiar; he had received many reminders of it during the past years. he laughed as he read, it sounded so like the writer:-albany, _june_--, 18--. "dear tip,--do you have fourth of july out your way this year? we do here in albany; rather, i'm going to have one in my yard. perhaps you remember a fourth of july which you took me to once, when we were ragged little wretches at home? i do, anyhow, and this is to be twin-brother to that time. all the ugly, dingy little urchins that i know have been invited. we're to have fine fireworks and fine singing and fine _eating_. my wife added that last item,--thought it a great improvement. i'm not sure but it is; most things are that she has a hand in. now, to come to the point of this letter,--you're to make the speech on that occasion. no getting out of it now! i planned this thing one day in the old schoolhouse. oh, did you know mr. burrows had given up teaching? grown too old. queer, isn't it? don't seem as if anybody was growing old except me. at first i wasn't going to have my feast on the fourth, because, you remember, it was on _that_ day that our blessed ray left us; but, talking with mr. minturn about it, he said ray would have been delighted with it all,--and so he would, you know. don't think we are going to gather in all albany; it's only the younger scholars of the mission school, in which my wife and i are interested. "tell howard and kitty to be sure and come; they can put their visit a few weeks earlier as well as not. "oh, by the way, if you have heard from ellis holbrook lately, you are singing 'glory hallelujah' by this time! "i am writing this in the counting-room, and am in a great hurry, though you wouldn't think it. shall expect you by the third, _certainly_.-"yours, etc., "bob turner." these letters came on saturday evening. the next morning, in sabbath school, when the superintendent's bell rang, the minister left his class of mission scholars, and went up the aisle towards the altar, pausing first to speak with a bright-eyed little lady, who sat before her class of bright-eyed little girls. "kitty, where is howard?" "at home, coaxing a fit of sick headache." "well, here are letters that will interest you both,--came last evening; one contains an invitation. tell howard i think we must try to go. mother bade me tell you she wanted to see you at the parsonage in the morning; she is not out to-day." then he went on. the scholars began to sit up straight, and fold their arms; they knew they must listen if they wanted mr. lewis to talk to them. when every eye was fixed on him, he began,-"children, i have a very short story to tell you to-day about myself. years ago, when i was a little boy, my sabbath school teacher told us a story, one morning, which was the means of bringing me to jesus. i have to thank that lady, next to god, that i am standing here to-day a minister of christ. she was not our regular teacher, but was a stranger; i never saw her after that sabbath. perhaps you can imagine how i have longed, since i became a man and a minister, to find that lady, and tell her what one hour of faithful teaching did for me. i thought it would help her, encourage her. i thought she would be likely to tell it to other teachers, and it would help them. but though i had it always in mind, and made very earnest efforts to find her, i never succeeded until last week. you know, children, it is ten years since i came here to be your pastor, and last week i learned that during all this time i have been living within twenty miles of the lady whom i have so long been seeking. and what else do you think i heard of her? why, that two weeks ago she died. scholars, my first thought was a sad one, that i never could thank her now. but you know i can; i expect to one of these days. why, when i get to heaven, one of the first things i shall do will be to seek her out and tell her about it. so, you see, she will know it, even if some of the watching angels up there have not told her already. "just here, i want to say one word to the teachers. this incident should come with wonderful encouragement to your hearts, reminding you that you may often speak words which spring up and bear fruit that reaches up to god, though you do not know it, and _will_ not, until in heaven you take your crowns, and question why there are so many stars. "children, next sabbath i will tell you the story which led me to christ; and all this week i am going to pray that it may have the same effect on some of my scholars. "it is time now for your verse. if any of you can find out why what i have been telling you to-day made me think of this verse, you may tell me next sabbath. now repeat,--'cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days.'" holiday house: a series of tales. dedicated to lady diana boyle. by catherine sinclair, authoress of "modern accomplishments," "modern society," "hill and valley," "charlie seymour," &c. &c. "young heads are giddy, and young hearts are warm, and make mistakes for manhood to reform." cowper. new-york: published by robert carter, no. 58 canal street. 1839. new-york: printed by scatcherd and adams, no. 38 gold street. preface "of all the paper i have blotted, i have written nothing without the intention of some good. whether i have succeeded or not, is for others to judge." sir william temple. the minds of young people are now manufactured like webs of linen, all alike, and nothing left to nature. from the hour when children can speak, till they come to years of discretion or of indiscretion, they are carefully prompted what to say, and what to think, and what to look, and how to feel; while in most school-rooms nature has been turned out of doors with obloquy, and art has entirely supplanted her. when a quarrel takes place, both parties are generally in some degree to blame; therefore if art and nature could yet be made to go hand in hand towards the formation of character and principles, a graceful and beautiful superstructure might be reared, on the solid foundation of christian faith and sound morality; so that while many natural weeds and wild flowers would be pruned and carefully trained, some lovely blossoms that spring spontaneously in the uncultivated soil, might still be cherished into strength and beauty, far excelling what can be planted or reared by art. every infant is probably born with a character as peculiar to himself as the features in his countenance, if his faults and good qualities were permitted to expand according to their original tendency; but education, which formerly did too little in teaching "the young idea how to shoot," seems now in danger of over-shooting the mark altogether, by not allowing the young ideas to exist at all. in this age of wonderful mechanical inventions, the very mind of youth seems in danger of becoming a machine; and while every effort is used to stuff the memory, like a cricket-ball, with well-known facts and ready-made opinions, no room is left for the vigour of natural feeling, the glow of natural genius, and the ardour of natural enthusiasm. it was a remark of sir walter scott's many years ago, to the author herself, that in the rising generation there would be no poets, wits, or orators, because all play of imagination is now carefully discouraged, and books written for young persons are generally a mere dry record of facts, unenlivened by any appeal to the heart, or any excitement to the fancy. the catalogue of a child's library would contain conversations on natural philosophy,--on chemistry,--on botany,--on arts and sciences,--chronological records of history,--and travels as dry as a road-book; but nothing on the habits or ways of thinking, natural and suitable to the taste of children; therefore, while such works are delightful to the parents and teachers who select them, the younger community are fed with strong meat instead of milk, and the reading which might be a relaxation from study, becomes a study in itself. in these pages the author has endeavoured to paint that species of noisy, frolicsome, mischievous children which is now almost extinct, wishing to preserve a sort of fabulous remembrance of days long past, when young people were like wild horses on the prairies, rather than like well-broken hacks on the road; and when, amidst many faults and many eccentricities, there was still some individuality of character and feeling allowed to remain. in short, as lord byron described "the last man," the object of this volume is, to describe "the last boy." it may be useful, she thinks, to show, that amidst much requiring to be judiciously curbed and corrected, there may be the germs of high and generous feeling, and of steady, right principle, which should be the chief objects of culture and encouragement. plodding industry is in the present day at a very high premium in education; but it requires the leaven of mental energy and genius to make it work well, while it has been remarked by one whose experience in education is deep and practical, that "those boys whose names appear most frequently in the black book of transgression, would sometimes deserve to be also most commonly recorded, if a book were kept for warm affections and generous actions." the most formidable person to meet in society at present, is the mother of a promising boy, about nine or ten years old; because there is no possible escape from a volume of anecdotes, and a complete system of education on the newest principles. the young gentleman has probably asked leave to bring his books to the breakfast-room,--can scarcely be torn away from his studies at the dinner-hour,--discards all toys,--abhors a holiday,--propounds questions of marvellous depth in politics or mineralogy,--and seems, in short, more fitted to enjoy the learned meeting at newcastle, than the exhilarating exercises of the cricket-ground; but, if the axiom be true, that "a little learning is a dangerous thing," it has also been proved by frequent, and sometimes by very melancholy experience, that, for minds not yet expanded to maturity, a great deal of learning is more dangerous still, and that in those school-rooms where there has been a society for the suppression of amusement, the mental energies have suffered, as well as the health. a prejudice has naturally arisen against giving works of fiction to children, because their chief interest too often rests on the detection and punishment of such mean vices as lying and stealing, which are so frequently and elaborately described, that the way to commit those crimes is made obvious, while a clever boy thinks he could easily avoid the oversights by which another has been discovered, and that if he does not yield to similar temptations, he is a model of virtue and good-conduct. in writing for any class of readers, and especially in occupying the leisure moments of such peculiarly fortunate young persons as have leisure moments at all, the author feels conscious of a deep responsibility, for it is at their early age that the seed can best be sown which shall bear fruit unto eternal life, therefore it is hoped this volume may be found to inculcate a pleasing and permanent consciousness, that religion is the best resource in happier hours, and the only refuge in hours of affliction. those who wish to be remembered for ever in the world,--and it is a very common object of ambition,--will find no monument more permanent, than the affectionate remembrance of any children they have treated with kindness; for we may often observe, in the reminiscences of old age, a tender recollection surviving all others, of friends in early days who enlivened the hours of childhood by presents of playthings and comfits. but above all, we never forget those who good-humouredly complied with the constantly recurring petition of all young people in every generation, and in every house--"will you tell me a story?" in answer to such a request, often and importunately repeated, the author has from year to year delighted in seeing herself surrounded by a circle of joyous, eager faces, listening with awe to the terrors of mrs. crabtree, or smiling at the frolics of harry and laura. the stories, originally, were so short, that some friends, aware of their popularity, and conscious of their harmless tendency, took the trouble of copying them in manuscript for their own young friends; but the tales have since grown and expanded during frequent verbal repetitions, till, with various fanciful additions and new characters, they have enlarged into their present form, or rather so far beyond it, that several chapters are omitted, to keep the volume within moderate compass. paley remarks, that "any amusement which is innocent, is better than none; as the writing of a book, the building of a house, the laying out of a garden, the digging of a fish-pond, even the raising of a cucumber;" and it is hoped that, while the author herself has found much interesting occupation in recording these often repeated stories, the time of herself and her young readers may be employed with some degree of profit, or she will certainly regret that it was not better occupied in the rearing of cucumbers. holiday house. chapter i. chit chat. a school-boy, a dog, and a walnut tree, the more you strike 'em, the better they be. laura and harry graham could scarcely feel sure that they ever had a mama, because she died while they were yet very young indeed; but frank, who was some years older, recollected perfectly well what pretty playthings she used to give him, and missed his kind, good mama so extremely, that he one day asked if he might "go to a shop and buy a new mama?" frank often afterwards thought of the time also, when he kneeled beside her bed to say his prayers, or when he sat upon her knee to hear funny stories about good boys and bad boys--all very interesting, and all told on purpose to show how much happier obedient children are, than those who waste their time in idleness and folly. boys and girls all think they know the road to happiness without any mistake, and choose that which looks gayest and pleasantest at first, though older people, who have travelled that road already, can tell them that a very difficult path is the only one which ends agreeably; and those who begin to walk in it when they are young, will really find that "wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." it was truly remarked by solomon, that "even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right." therefore, though frank was yet but a little boy, his friends, who observed how carefully he attended to his mama's instructions, how frequently he studied his bible, and how diligently he learned his lessons, all prophesied that this merry, lively child, with laughing eyes, and dimpled cheeks, would yet grow up to be a good and useful man; especially when it became evident that, by the blessing of god, he had been early turned away from the broad road that leadeth to destruction, in which every living person would naturally walk, and led into the narrow path that leadeth to eternal life. when his mama, lady graham, after a long and painful illness, was at last taken away to the better world, for which she had been many years preparing, her only sorrow and anxiety seemed to be that she left behind her three such very dear children, who were now to be entirely under the care of their papa, sir edward graham; and it was with many prayers and tears that she tried to make her mind more easy about their future education, and future happiness. sir edward felt such extreme grief on the death of lady graham, that instead of being able to remain at home with his young family, and to interest his mind as he would wish to have done, by attending to them, he was ordered by dr. bell, to set off immediately for paris, rome, and naples, where it was hoped he might leave his distresses behind him while he travelled, or at all events, forget them. luckily the children had a very good, kind uncle, major david graham, and their grandmama, lady harriet graham, who were both exceedingly happy to take charge of them, observing that no house could be cheerful without a few little people being there, and that now they would have constant amusement in trying to make frank, harry, and laura, as happy as possible, and even still happier. "that is the thing i am almost afraid of!" said sir edward, smiling. "uncles and grandmamas are only too kind, and my small family will be quite spoiled by indulgence." "not if you leave that old vixen, mrs. crabtree, as governor of the nursery," answered major graham, laughing. "she ought to have been the drummer of a regiment, she is so fond of the rod! i believe there never was such a tyrant since the time when nursery-maids were invented. poor harry would pass his life in a dark closet, like baron trenck, if mrs. crabtree had her own way!" "she means it all well. i am certain that mrs. crabtree is devotedly fond of my children, and would go through fire and water to serve them; but she is a little severe perhaps. her idea is, that if you never forgive a first fault, you will never hear of a second, which is probably true enough. at all events, her harshness will be the best remedy for your extreme indulgence; therefore let me beg that you and my mother will seldom interfere with her 'method,' especially in respect to harry and laura. as for frank, if all boys were like him, we might make a bonfire of birch rods and canes. he is too old for nursery discipline now, and must be flogged at school, if deserving of it at all, till he goes to sea next year with my friend gordon, who has promised to rate him as a volunteer of the first class, on board the thunderbolt." in spite of mrs. crabtree's admirable "system" with children, harry and laura became, from this time, two of the most heedless, frolicsome beings in the world, and had to be whipped almost every morning; for in those days it had not been discovered that whipping is all a mistake, and that children can be made good without it; though some old-fashioned people still say--and such, too, who take the god of truth for their guide--the old plan succeeded best, and those who "spare the rod will spoil the child." when lady harriet and major graham spoke kindly to harry and laura, about anything wrong that had been done, they both felt more sad and sorry, than after the severest punishments of mrs. crabtree, who frequently observed, that "if those children were shut up in a dark room alone, with nothing to do, they would still find some way of being mischievous, and of deserving to be punished." "harry!" said major graham one day, "you remind me of a monkey which belonged to the colonel of our regiment formerly. he was famous for contriving to play all sorts of pranks when no one supposed them to be possible, and i recollect once having a valuable french clock, which the malicious creature seemed particularly determined to break. many a time i caught him in the fact, and saved my beautiful clock; but one day, being suddenly summoned out of the room, i hastily fastened his chain to a table, so that he could not possibly, even at the full extent of his paw, so much as touch the glass case. i observed him impatiently watching my departure, and felt a misgiving that he expected to get the better of me; so after shutting the door, i took a peep through the key-hole, and what do you think jack had done, harry? for, next to mr. monkey himself, you are certainly the cleverest contriver of mischief i know." "what did he do?" asked harry eagerly; "did he throw a stone at the clock?" "no! but his leg was several inches longer than his arm, so having turned his tail towards his object, he stretched out his hind-paw, and before i could rush back, my splendid alabaster clock had been upset and broken to shivers." laura soon became quite as mischievous as harry, which is very surprising, as she was a whole year older, and had been twice as often scolded by mrs. crabtree. neither of these children intended any harm, for they were only heedless lively romps, who would not for twenty worlds have told a lie, or done a shabby thing, or taken what did not belong to them. they were not greedy either, and would not on any account have resembled peter grey, who was at the same school with frank, and who spent all his own pocket-money, and borrowed a great deal of other people's, to squander at the pastry-cook's, saying, he wished it were possible to eat three dinners, and two breakfasts, and five suppers every day. harry was not a cruel boy either; he never lashed his pony, beat his dog, pinched his sister, or killed any butterflies, though he often chased them for fun, and one day he even defended a wasp, at the risk of being stung, when mrs. crabtree intended to kill it. "nasty, useless vermin!" said she angrily, "what business have they in the world! coming into other people's houses, with nothing to do! they sting and torment every body! bees are very different, for they make honey." "and wasps make jelly!" said harry resolutely, while he opened the window, and shook the happy wasp out of his pocket handkerchief. mrs. crabtree allowed no pets of any description in her territories, and ordered the children to be happy without any such nonsense. when laura's canary-bird escaped one unlucky day out of its cage, mrs. crabtree was strongly suspected by major graham, of having secretly opened the door, as she had long declared war upon bulfinches, white mice, parrots, kittens, dogs, bantams, and gold fish, observing that animals only made a noise and soiled the house, therefore every creature should remain in its own home, "birds in the air, fish in the sea, and beasts in the desert." she seemed always watching in hopes harry and laura might do something that they ought to be punished for; and mrs. crabtree certainly had more ears than other people, or slept with one eye open, as, whatever might be done, night or day, she overheard the lowest whisper of mischief, and appeared able to see what was going on in the dark. when harry was a very little boy, he sometimes put himself in the corner, after doing wrong, apparently quite sensible that he deserved to be punished, and once, after being terribly scolded by mrs. crabtree, he drew in his stool beside her chair, with a funny penitent face, twirling his thumbs over and over each other, and saying, "now, mrs. crabtree! look what a good boy i am going to be!" "you a good boy!" replied she contemptuously: "no! no! the world will be turned into a cream-cheese first!" lady harriet gave harry and laura a closet of their own, in which she allowed them to keep their toys, and nobody could help laughing to see that, amidst the whole collection, there was seldom one unbroken. frank wrote out a list once of what he found in this crowded little store-room, and amused himself often with reading it over afterwards. there were three dolls without faces, a horse with no legs, a drum with a hole in the top, a cart without wheels, a churn with no bottom, a kite without a tale, a skipping-rope with no handles, and a cup and ball that had lost the string. lady harriet called this closet the hospital for decayed toys, and she often employed herself as their doctor, mending legs and arms for soldiers, horses, and dolls, though her skill seldom succeeded long, because play-things must have been made of cast-iron to last a week with harry. one cold winter morning when laura entered the nursery, she found a large fire blazing, and all her wax dolls sitting in a row within the fender staring at the flames. harry intended no mischief on this occasion, but great was his vexation when laura burst into tears, and showed him that their faces were running in a hot stream down upon their beautiful silk frocks, which were completely ruined, and not a doll had its nose remaining. another time, harry pricked a hole in his own beautiful large gas ball, wishing to see how the gas could possibly escape, after which, in a moment, it shrivelled up into a useless empty bladder,--and when his kite was flying up to the clouds, harry often wished that he could be tied to the tail himself, so as to fly also through the air like a bird, and see every thing. mrs. crabtree always wore a prodigious bunch of jingling keys in her pocket, that rung whenever she moved, as if she carried a dinner bell in her pocket, and frank said it was like a rattlesnake giving warning of her approach, which was of great use, as everybody had time to put on a look of good behaviour before she arrived. even betty, the under nursery-maid, felt in terror of mrs. crabtree's entrance, and was obliged to work harder than any six house-maids united. frank told her one day that he thought brooms might soon be invented, which would go by steam and brush carpets of themselves, but, in the meantime, not a grain of dust could lurk in any corner of the nursery without being dislodged. betty would have required ten hands, and twenty pair of feet, to do all the work that was expected; but the grate looked like jet, the windows would not have soiled a cambric handkerchief, and the carpet was switched with so many tea-leaves, that frank thought mrs. crabtree often took several additional cups of tea in order to leave a plentiful supply of leaves for sweeping the floor next morning. if laura and harry left any breakfast, mrs. crabtree kept it carefully till dinner time, when they were obliged to finish the whole before tasting meat; and if they refused it at dinner, the remains were kept for supper. mrs. crabtree always informed them that she did it "for their good," though harry never could see any good that it did to either of them; and when she mentioned how many poor children would be glad to eat what they despised, he often wished the hungry beggars had some of his own hot dinner, which he would gladly have spared to them; for harry was really so generous, that he would have lived upon air, if he might be of use to anybody. time passed on, and lady harriet engaged a master for some hours a-day to teach the children lessons, while even mrs. crabtree found no other fault to harry and laura, except that in respect to good behaviour their memories were like a sieve, which let out every thing they were desired to keep in mind. they seemed always to hope, somehow or other, when mrs. crabtree once turned her back, she would never shew her face again; so their promises of better conduct were all "wind without rain,"--very loud and plenty of them, but no good effect to be seen afterwards. among her many other torments, mrs. crabtree rolled up laura's hair every night on all sides of her head, in large stiff curl-papers, till they were as round and hard as walnuts, after which, she tied on a night-cap, as tightly as possible above all, saying this would curl the hair still better. laura could not lay any part of her head on the pillow, without suffering so much pain that, night after night, she sat up in bed, after mrs. crabtree had bustled out of the room, and quietly took the cruel papers out, though she was punished so severely for doing so, that she obeyed orders at last and lay wide awake half the night with torture; and it was but small comfort to laura afterwards, that lady harriet's visitors frequently admired the forest of long glossy ringlets that adorned her head, and complimented mrs. crabtree on the trouble it must cost her to keep that charming hair in order. often did laura wish that it were ornamenting any wig-block, rather than her own head; and one day lady harriet laughed heartily, when some strangers admired her little grand-daughter's ringlets, and laura asked, very anxiously, if they would like to cut off a few of the longest, and keep them for her sake. "your hair does curl like a cork-screw," said frank, laughing. "if i want to draw a cork out of a beer bottle any day, i shall borrow one of those ringlets, laura!" "you may laugh, frank, for it is fun to you and death to me," answered poor laura, gravely shaking her curls at him. "i wish we were all bald, like uncle david! during the night, i cannot lie still on account of those tiresome curls, and all day i dare not stir for fear of spoiling them, so they are never out of my head." "nor off your head! how pleasant it must be to have mrs. crabtree combing and scolding, and scolding and combing, for hours every day! poor laura! we must get dr. bell to say that they shall be taken off on pain of death, and then, perhaps, grandmama would order some irish reapers to cut them down with a sickle." "frank! what a lucky boy you are to be at school, and not in the nursery! i wish next year would come immediately, for then i shall have a governess, after which good-bye to mrs. crabtree, and the wearisome curl-papers." "i don't like school!" said harry. "it is perfect nonsense to plague me with lessons now. all big people can read and write, so, of course, i shall be able to do like others. there is no hurry about it!" never was there a more amiable, pious, excellent boy than frank, who read his bible so attentively, and said his prayers so regularly every morning and evening, that he soon learned both to know his duty and to do it. though he laughed heartily at the scrapes which harry and laura so constantly fell into, he often also helped them out of their difficulties; being very different from most elderly boys, who find an odd kind of pleasure in teazing younger children--pulling their hair--pinching their arms--twitching away their dinners--and twenty more plans for tormenting, which frank never attempted to enjoy, but he often gave harry and laura a great deal of kind, sober, good advice, which they listened to very attentively while they were in any new distress, but generally forgot again as soon as their spirits rose. frank came home only upon saturdays and sundays, because he attended during most of the week at mr. lexicon's academy, where he gradually became so clever, that the masters all praised his extraordinary attention, and covered him with medals, while major graham often filled his pockets with a reward of money, after which he ran towards the nearest shop to spend his little fortune in buying a present for somebody. frank scarcely ever wanted anything for himself, but he always wished to contrive some kind generous plan for other people; and major graham used to say, "if that boy had only sixpence in the world, he would lay it all out on penny tarts to distribute among half-a-dozen of his friends." he even saved his pocket-money once, during three whole months, to purchase a gown for mrs. crabtree, who looked almost good-humoured during the space of five minutes, when frank presented it to her, saying, in his joyous merry voice, "mrs. crabtree! i wish you health to wear it, strength to tear it, and money to buy another!" certainly there never was such a gown before! it had been chosen by frank and harry together, who thought nothing could be more perfect. the colour was so bright an apple-green, that it would have put any body's teeth on edge to look at it, and the whole was dotted over with large round spots of every colour, as if a box of wafers had been showered upon the surface. laura wished mrs. crabtree might receive a present every day, as it put her in such good-humour, and nearly three weeks after passed this, without a single scold being heard in the nursery; so frank observed that he thought mrs. crabtree would soon be quite out of practice. "laura!" said major graham, looking very sly one morning, "have you heard all the new rules that mrs. crabtree has made?" "no!" replied she in great alarm; "what are they?" "in the first place, you are positively not to tear and destroy above three frocks a-day; secondly, you and harry must never get into a passion, unless you are angry; thirdly, when either of you take medicine, you are not to make wry faces, except when the taste is bad; fourthly, you must never speak ill of mrs. crabtree herself, until she is out of the room; fifthly, you are not to jump out of the windows, as long as you can get out at the door"---"yes!" interrupted laura, laughing, "and sixthly, when uncle david is joking, we are not to be frightened by anything he says!" "seventhly, when next you spill grandmama's bottle of ink, harry must drink up every drop." "very well! he may swallow a sheet of blotting paper afterwards, to put away the taste." "i wish every body who writes a book, was obliged to swallow it," said harry. "it is such a waste of time reading, when we might be amusing ourselves. frank sat mooning over a book for two hours yesterday when we wanted him to play. i am sure, some day his head will burst with knowledge." "that can never happen to you, master harry," answered major graham; "you have a head, and so has a pin, but there is not much furniture in either of them." chapter ii. the grand feast. she gave them some tea without any bread, she whipp'd them all soundly, and sent them to bed. nursery rhymes. lady harriet graham was an extremely thin, delicate, old lady, with a very pale face, and a sweet gentle voice, which the children delighted to hear, for it always spoke kindly to them, and sounded like music, after the loud, rough tones of mrs. crabtree. she wore her own grey hair, which had become almost as white as the widow's cap which covered her head. the rest of her dress was generally black velvet, and she usually sat in a comfortable arm-chair by the fire-side, watching her grandchildren at play, with a large work-bag by her side, and a prodigious bible open on the table before her. lady harriet often said that it made her young again to see the joyous gambols of harry and laura; and when unable any longer to bear their noise, she sometimes kept them quiet, by telling the most delightful stories about what had happened to herself when she was young. once upon a time, however, lady harriet suddenly became so very ill, that dr. bell said she must spend a few days in the country, for change of air, and accordingly she determined on passing a quiet week at holiday house with her relations, lord and lady rockville. meanwhile, harry and laura were to be left under the sole care of mrs. crabtree, so it might have been expected that they would both feel more frightened for her, now that she was reigning monarch of the house, than ever. harry would obey those he loved, if they only held up a little finger; but all the terrors of mrs. crabtree, and her cat-o'-nine-tails, were generally forgotten soon after she left the room; therefore he thought little at first about the many threats she held out, if he behaved ill, but he listened most seriously when his dear sick grandmama told him, in a faint weak voice, on the day of her departure from home, how very well he ought to behave in her absence, as no one remained but the maids to keep him in order, and that she hoped mrs. crabtree would write her a letter full of good news about his excellent conduct. harry felt as if he would gladly sit still without stirring, till his grandmama came back, if that could only please her; and there never was any one more determined to be a good boy than he, at the moment when lady harriet's carriage came round to the door. laura, frank, and harry helped to carry all the pillows, boxes, books, and baskets which were necessary for the journey, of which there seemed to be about fifty; then they arranged the cushions as comfortably as possible, and watched very sorrowfully when their grandmama, after kindly embracing them both, was carefully supported by major graham and her maid harrison, into the chariot. uncle david gave each of the children a pretty picture-book before taking leave, and said, as he was stepping into the carriage, "now, children! i have only one piece of serious, important advice to give you all, so attend to me!--never crack nuts with your teeth!" when the carriage had driven off, mrs. crabtree became so busy scolding betty, and storming at jack the foot-boy, for not cleaning her shoes well enough, that she left harry and laura standing in the passage, not knowing exactly what they ought to do first, and frank, seeing them looking rather melancholy and bewildered at the loss of their grandmama, stopped a moment as he passed on the way to school, and said in a very kind, affectionate voice, "now, harry and laura, listen both of you!--here is a grand opportunity to show everybody, that we can be trusted to ourselves, without getting into any scrapes, so that if grandmama is ever ill again, and obliged to go away, she need not feel so sad and anxious as she did to-day. i mean to become nine times more attentive to my lessons than usual this morning, to show how trust-worthy we are, and if you are wise, pray march straight up to the nursery yourselves. i have arranged a gown and cap of mrs. crabtree's on the large arm-chair, to look as like herself as possible, that you may be reminded how soon she will come back, and you must not behave like the mice when the cat is out. good bye! say the alphabet backward, and count your fingers for half-an-hour, but when mrs. crabtree appears again, pray do not jump out of the window for joy." harry and laura were proceeding directly towards the nursery, as frank had recommended, when unluckily they observed in passing the drawing-room door, that it was wide open; so harry peeped in, and they began idly wandering round the tables and cabinets. not ten minutes elapsed before they both commenced racing about as if they were mad, perfectly screaming with joy, and laughing so loudly at their own funny tricks, that an old gentleman who lived next door, very nearly sent in a message to ask what the joke was. presently harry and laura ran up and down stairs till the housemaid was quite fatigued with running after them. they jumped upon the fine damask sofas in the drawing-room, stirred the fire till it was in a blaze, and rushed out on the balcony, upsetting one or two geraniums and a myrtle. they spilt lady harriet's perfumes over their handkerchiefs,--they looked into all the beautiful books of pictures,--they tumbled many of the pretty dresden china figures on the floor,--they wound up the little french clock till it was broken,--they made the musical work-box play its tunes, and set the chinese mandarins nodding, till they very nearly nodded their heads off. in short, so much mischief has seldom been done in so short a time, till at last harry, perfectly worn out with laughing and running, threw himself into a large arm-chair, and laura, with her ringlets tumbling in frightful confusion over her face, and the beads of her coral necklace rolling on the floor, tossed herself into a sofa beside him. "oh! what fun!" cried harry, in an ecstacy of delight; "i wish frank had been here, and crowds of little boys and girls, to play with us all day! it would be a good joke, laura, to write and ask all our little cousins and companions to drink tea here to-morrow evening! their mamas could never guess we had not leave from grandmama to invite everybody, so i dare say we might gather quite a large party! oh! how enchanting!" laura laughed heartily when she heard this proposal of harry's, and without hesitating a moment about it, she joyously placed herself before lady harriet's writing-table, and scribbled a multitude of little notes, in large text, to more than twenty young friends, all of whom had at other times been asked by lady harriet to spend the evening with her. laura felt very much puzzled to know what was usually said in a card of invitation, but after many consultations, she and harry thought at last, that it was very nicely expressed, for they wrote these words upon a large sheet of paper to each of their friends:-master harry graham and miss laura wish you to have the honour of drinking tea with us to-morrow, at six o'clock. (signed) harry and laura. laura afterwards singed a hole in her muslin frock, while lighting one of the vesta matches to seal these numerous notes; and harry dropped some burning sealing-wax on his hand, in the hurry of assisting her; but he thought that little accident no matter, and ran away to see if the cards could be sent off immediately. now, there lived in the house a very old footman, called andrew, who remembered harry and laura since they were quite little babies; and he often looked exceedingly sad and sorry when they suffered punishment from mrs. crabtree. he was ready to do anything in the world when it pleased the children, and would have carried a message to the moon, if they had only shown him the way. many odd jobs and private messages he had already been employed in by harry, who now called andrew up stairs, entreating him to carry out all those absurd notes as fast as possible, and to deliver them immediately, as they were of the greatest consequence. upon hearing this, old andrew lost not a moment, but threw on his hat, and instantly started off, looking like the twopenny postman, he carried such a prodigious parcel of invitations, while harry and laura stood at the drawing-room window, almost screaming with joy when they saw him set out, and when they observed that, to oblige them, he actually ran along the street at a sort of trot, which was as fast as he could possibly go. presently, however, he certainly did stop for a single minute, and laura saw that it was in order to take a peep into one of the notes, that he might ascertain what they were all about; but as he never carried any letters without doing so, she thought that quite natural, and was only very glad when he had finished, and rapidly pursued his way again. next morning, mrs. crabtree and betty became very much surprised to observe what a number of smart livery servants knocked at the street door, and gave in cards, but their astonishment became still greater, when old andrew brought up a whole parcel of them to harry and laura, who immediately broke the seals, and read the contents in a corner together. "what are you about there, master graham?" cried mrs. crabtree, angrily, "how dare any body venture to touch your grandmama's letters?" "they are not for grandmama!--they are all for us!--every one of them!" answered harry, dancing about the room with joy, and waving the notes over his head. "look at this direction! for master and miss graham! put on your spectacles, and read it yourself, mrs. crabtree! what delightful fun! the house will be as full as an egg!" mrs. crabtree seemed completely puzzled what to think of all this, and looked so much as if she did not know exactly what to be angry at, and so ready to be in a passion if possible, that harry burst out a laughing, while he said, "only think mrs. crabtree! here is every body coming to tea with us!--all my cousins, besides peter grey, robert stewart, charles forrester, adelaide cunninghame, diana wentworth, john fordyce, edmund ashford, frank abercromby, ned russel, and tom ----" "the boy is distracted!" exclaimed betty, staring with astonishment. "what does all this mean, master harry?" "and who gave you leave to invite company into your grandmama's house?" cried mrs. crabtree, snatching up all the notes, and angrily thrusting them into the fire. "i never heard of such things in all my life before, master harry! but as sure as eggs is eggs, you shall repent of this, for not one morsel of cake, or anything else shall you have to give any of the party; no! not so much as a crust of bread, or a thimbleful of tea!" harry and laura had never thought of such a catastrophe as this before; they always saw a great table covered with every thing that could be named for tea, whenever their little friends came to visit them, and whether it rose out of the floor, or was brought by aladdin's lamp, they never considered it possible that the table would not be provided as usual on such occasions, so this terrible speech of mrs. crabtree's frightened them out of their wits. what was to be done! they both knew by experience that she always did whatever she threatened, or something a great deal worse, so they began by bursting into tears, and begging mrs. crabtree for this once to excuse them, and to give some cakes and tea to their little visitors, but they might as well have spoken to one of the chinese mandarins, for she only shook her head, with a positive look, declaring over and over again that nothing should appear upon the table except what was always brought up for their own supper--two biscuits and two cups of milk. "therefore say no more about it!" added she, sternly. "i am your best friend, master harry, trying to teach you and miss laura your duty, so save your breath to cool your porridge." poor harry and laura looked perfectly ill with fright and vexation when they thought of what was to happen next, while mrs. crabtree sat down to her knitting, grumbling to herself, and dropping her stitches every minute with rage and irritation. old andrew felt exceedingly sorry after he heard what distress and difficulty harry was in, and when the hour for the party approached, he very good-naturedly spread out a large table in the dining-room, where he put down as many cups, saucers, plates, and spoons as laura chose to direct; but in spite of all his trouble, though it looked very grand, there was nothing whatever to eat or drink, except the two dry biscuits, and the two miserable cups of milk, which seemed to become smaller every time that harry looked at them. presently the clock struck six, and harry listened to the hour very much as a prisoner would do in the condemned cell in newgate, feeling that the dreaded time was at last arrived. soon afterwards, several handsome carriages drove up to the door filled with little masters and misses, who hurried joyfully into the house, talking and laughing all the way up stairs, being evidently quite happy at coming out to tea, while poor harry and laura almost wished the floor would open and swallow them up, so they shrunk into a distant corner of the room, quite ashamed to show their faces. the young ladies were all dressed in their best frocks, with pink sashes, and pink shoes; while the little boys appeared in their holiday clothes, with their hair newly brushed, and their faces washed. the whole party had dined at two o'clock, so they were as hungry as hawks, looking eagerly round, whenever they entered, to see what was on the tea-table, and evidently surprised that nothing had yet been put down. laura and harry soon afterwards heard their visitors whispering to each other about norwich buns, rice cakes, spunge biscuits, and maccaroons; while peter grey was loud in praise of a party at george lorraine's the night before, where an immense plum-cake had been sugared over like a snow storm, and covered with crowds of beautiful amusing mottoes; not to mention a quantity of noisy crackers, that exploded like pistols; besides which, a glass of hot jelly had been handed to each little guest before he was sent home. every time the door opened, all eyes were anxiously turned round, expecting a grand feast to be brought in; but quite the contrary--it was only andrew showing up more hungry visitors; while harry felt so unspeakably wretched, that, if some kind fairy could only have turned him into a norwich bun at the moment, he would gladly have consented to be cut in pieces, that his ravenous guests might be satisfied. charles forrester was a particularly good-natured boy, so harry at last took courage and beckoned him into a remote corner of the room, where he confessed, in whispers, the real state of affairs about tea, and how sadly distressed he and laura felt, because they had nothing whatever to give among so many visitors, seeing that mrs. crabtree kept her determination of affording them no provisions. "what is to be done!" said charles, very anxiously, as he felt extremely sorry for his little friends. "if mama had been at home, she would gladly have sent whatever you liked for tea, but unluckily she is dining out! i saw a loaf of bread lying on a table at home this evening, which she would make you quite welcome to! shall i run home, as fast as possible, to fetch it? that would, at any rate, be better than nothing!" poor charles forrester was very lame, therefore, while he talked of running he could hardly walk, but lady forrester's house stood so near, that he soon reached home, when, snatching up the loaf, he hurried back towards the street with his prize, quite delighted to see how large and substantial it looked. scarcely had he reached the door, however, before the housekeeper ran hastily out, saying, "stop, mr. charles! stop! sure you are not running away with the loaf for my tea, and the parrot must have her supper too. what do you want with that there bread?" "never mind, mrs. comfit!" answered charles, hastening on faster than ever, while he grasped the precious loaf more firmly in his hand, and limped along at a prodigious rate, "polly is getting too fat, so she will be the better of fasting for this one day." mrs. comfit, being enormously fat herself, became very angry at this remark, so she seemed quite desperate to recover the loaf, and hurried forward to overtake charles, but the old housekeeper was so heavy and breathless, while the young gentleman was so lame, that it seemed an even chance which won the race. harry stood at his own door, impatiently hoping to receive the prize, and eagerly stretched out his arms to encourage his friend, while it was impossible to say which of the runners might arrive first. harry had sometimes heard of a race between two old women tied up in sacks, and he thought they could scarcely move with more difficulty; but at the very moment when charles had reached the door, he stumbled over a stone, and fell on the ground. mrs. comfit then instantly rushed up, and seizing the loaf, she carried it off in triumph, leaving the two little friends ready to cry with vexation, and quite at a loss what plan to attempt next. mean time, a sad riot had arisen in the dining-room, where the boys called loudly for their tea; and the young ladies drew their chairs all round the table, to wait till it was ready. still nothing appeared; so every body wondered more and more how long they were to wait for all the nice cakes and sweetmeats which must, of course, be coming; for the longer they were delayed, the more was expected. the last at a feast, and the first at a fray, was generally peter grey, who now lost patience, and seized one of the two biscuits, which he was in the middle of greedily devouring, when laura returned with harry to the dining-room, and observed what he had done. "peter grey!" said she, holding up her head, and trying to look very dignified, "you are an exceedingly naughty boy, to help yourself! as a punishment for being so rude, you shall have nothing more to eat all this evening." "if i do not help myself, nobody else seems likely to give me any supper! i appear to be the only person who is to taste anything to-night," answered peter, laughing, while the impudent boy took a cup of milk, and drank it off, saying, "here's to your very good health, miss laura, and an excellent appetite to everybody!" upon hearing this absurd speech, all the other boys began laughing, and made signs, as if they were eating their fingers off with hunger. then peter called lady harriet's house "famine castle," and pretended he would swallow the knives like an indian juggler. "we must learn to live upon air, and here are some spoons to eat it with," said john fordyce. "harry! shall i help you to a mouthful of moonshine?" "peter! would you like a roasted fly?" asked frank abercromby, catching one on the window. "i dare say it is excellent for hungry people,--or a slice of buttered wall?" "or a stewed spider?" asked peter. "shall we all be cannibals, and eat one another?" "what is the use of all those forks, when there is nothing to stick upon them?" asked george maxwell, throwing them about on the floor. "no buns!--no fruit!--no cakes!--no nothing!" "what are we to do with those tea-cups, when there is no tea?" cried frank abercromby, pulling the table-cloth till the whole affair fell prostrate on the floor. after this, these riotous boys tossed the plates up in the air, and caught them, becoming, at last, so outrageous, that poor old andrew called them a "meal mob." never was there so much broken china seen in a dining-room before! it all lay scattered on the floor, in countless fragments, looking as if there had been a bull in a china shop, when suddenly mrs. crabtree herself opened the door and walked in, with an aspect of rage enough to petrify a milestone. now old andrew had long been trying all in his power to render the boys quiet and contented. he had made them a speech,--he had chased the ring-leaders all round the room,--and he had thrown his stick at peter, who seemed the most riotous,--but all in vain; they became worse and worse, laughing into fits, and calling andrew "the police-officer," and "the bailiff." it was a very different story, however, when mrs. crabtree appeared, so flaming with fury, she might have blown up a powder-mill. nobody could help being afraid of her. even peter himself stood stock-still, and seemed withering away to nothing, when she looked at him; and when she began to scold in her most furious manner, not a boy ventured to look off the ground. a large pair of tawse then became visible in her hand, so every heart sunk with fright, and the riotous visitors began to get behind each other, and to huddle out of sight as much as possible, whispering and pushing, and fighting, in a desperate scuffle to escape. "what is all this!" cried she, at the full pitch of her voice, "has bedlam broke loose! who smashed these cups? i'll break his head for him, let me tell you that! master peter! you should be hissed out of the world for your misconduct; but i shall certainly whip you round the room like a whipping-top." at this moment, peter observed that the dining-room window, which was only about six feet from the ground, had been left wide open, so instantly seizing the opportunity, he threw himself out with a single bound, and ran laughing away. all the other boys immediately followed his example, and disappeared by the same road; after which, mrs. crabtree leaned far out of the window, and scolded loudly, as long as they remained in sight, till her face became red, and her voice perfectly hoarse. meantime, the little misses sat soberly down before the empty table, and talked in whispers to each other, waiting till their maids came to take them home, after which they all hurried away as fast as possible, hardly waiting to say "good bye," and intending to ask for some supper at home. during that night, long after harry and laura had been scolded, whipped, and put to bed, they were each heard in different rooms, sobbing and crying, as if their very hearts would break, while mrs. crabtree grumbled and scolded to herself, saying she must do her duty, and make them good children, though she were to flay them alive first. when lady harriet returned home some days afterwards, she heard an account of harry and laura's misconduct from mrs. crabtree, and the whole story was such a terrible case against them, that their poor grandmama became perfectly astonished and shocked, while even uncle david was preparing to be very angry; but before the culprits appeared, frank most kindly stepped forward, and begged that they might be pardoned for this once, adding all in his power to excuse harry and laura, by describing how very penitent they had become, and how very severely they had already been punished. frank then mentioned all that harry had told him about the starving party, which he related with so much humour and drollery, that lady harriet could not help laughing; so then he saw that a victory had been gained, and ran to the nursery for the two little prisoners. uncle david shook his walking-stick at them, and made a terrible face, when they entered; but harry jumped upon his knee with joy at seeing him again, while laura forgot all her distress, and rushed up to lady harriet, who folded her in her arms, and kissed her most affectionately. not a word was said that day about the tea-party, but next morning, major graham asked harry, very gravely, "if he had read in the newspapers the melancholy accounts about several of his little companions, who were ill and confined to bed from having ate too much at a certain tea-party on saturday last. poor peter grey has been given over, and charles forrester, it is feared, may not be able to eat another loaf of bread for a fortnight!" "oh! uncle david! it makes me ill whenever i think of that party!" said harry, colouring perfectly scarlet; "that was the most miserable evening of my life!" "i must say it was not quite fair in mrs. crabtree to starve all the strange little boys and girls, who came as visitors to my house, without knowing who had invited them," observed lady harriet. "probably those unlucky children will never forget, as long as they live, that scanty supper in our dining-room." and it turned out exactly as lady harriet had predicted; for though they were all asked to tea, in proper time, the very next saturday, when major graham showered torrents of sugar-plums on the table, while the children scrambled to pick them up, and the side-board almost broke down afterwards under the weight of buns, cakes, cheesecakes, biscuits, fruit, and preserves, which were heaped upon each other--yet, for years afterwards, peter grey, whenever he ate a particularly enormous dinner, always observed, that he must make up for having once been starved at harry graham's; and whenever any one of those little boys or girls again happened to meet harry or laura, they were sure to laugh and say, "when are you going to give us another "grand feast?" chapter iii. the terrible fire. fire rages with fury wherever it comes, if only one spark should be dropped; whole houses, or cities, sometimes it consumes, where its violence cannot be stopped. one night, about eight o'clock, harry and laura were playing in the nursery, building houses with bricks, and trying who could raise the highest tower without letting it fall, when suddenly they were startled to hear every bell in the house ringing violently, while the servants seemed running up and down stairs, as if they were distracted. "what can be the matter!" cried laura, turning round and listening, while harry quietly took this opportunity to shake the walls of her castle till it fell. "the very house is coming down about your ears, laura!" said harry, enjoying his little bit of mischief. "i should like to be andrew, now, for five minutes, that i might answer those fifty bells, and see what has happened. uncle david must be wanting coals, candles, tea, toast, and soda water, all at once! what a bustle everybody is in! there! the bells are ringing again, worse than ever! something wonderful is going on! what can it be!" presently betty ran breathlessly into the room, saying that mrs. crabtree ought to come down stairs immediately, as lady harriet had been suddenly taken very ill, and, till the doctor arrived, nobody knew what to do, so she must give her advice and assistance. harry and laura felt excessively shocked to hear this alarming news, and listened with grave attention, while mrs. crabtree told them how amazingly well they ought to behave in her absence, when they were trusted alone in the nursery, with nobody to keep them in order, or to see what they were doing, especially now, as their grandmama had been taken ill, and would require to be kept quiet. harry sat in his chair, and might have been painted as the very picture of a good boy during nearly twenty minutes after mrs. crabtree departed; and laura placed herself opposite to him, trying to follow so excellent an example, while they scarcely spoke above a whisper, wondering what could be the matter with their grandmama, and wishing for once, to see mrs. crabtree again, that they might hear how she was. any one who had observed harry and laura at that time, would have wondered to see two such quiet, excellent, respectable children, and wished that all little boys and girls were made upon the same pattern; but presently they began to think that probably lady harriet was not so very ill, as no more bells had rung during several minutes, and harry ventured to look about for some better amusement than sitting still. at this moment laura unluckily perceived on the table near where they sat, a pair of mrs. crabtree's best scissors, which she had been positively forbid to touch. the long troublesome ringlets were as usual hanging over her eyes in a most teazing manner, so she thought what a good opportunity this might be to shorten them a very little, not above an inch or two; and without considering a moment longer, she slipped upon tiptoe, with a frightened look, round the table, and picked up the scissors in her hand, then hastening towards a looking-glass, she began snipping off the ends of her hair. laura was much diverted to see it showering down upon the floor, so she cut and cut on, while the curls fell thicker and faster, till at last the whole floor was covered with them, and scarcely a hair left upon her head. harry went into fits of laughing when he perceived what a ridiculous figure laura had made of herself, and he turned her round and round to see the havoc she had made, saying, "you should give all this hair to mr. mills the upholsterer, to stuff grandmama's arm-chair with! at any rate, laura, if mrs. crabtree is ever so angry, she can hardly pull you by the hair of the head again! what a sound sleep you will have to-night, with no hard curl-papers to torment you!" harry had been told five hundred times, never to touch the candles, and threatened with twenty different punishments, if he ever ventured to do so; but now, he amused himself with trying to snuff one till he snuffed it out. then he lighted it again, and tried the experiment once more, but again the teazing candle went out, as if on purpose to plague him, so he felt quite provoked. having lighted it once more, harry prepared to carry the candlestick with him towards the inner nursery, though afraid to make the smallest noise, in case it might be taken from him. before he had gone five steps, down dropped the extinguisher, then followed the snuffers with a great crash, but laura seemed too busy cropping her ringlets, to notice what was going on. all the way along upon the floor, harry let fall a perfect shower of hot wax, which spotted the nursery carpet from the table where he had found the candle into the next room, where he disappeared, and shut the door, that no one might interfere with what he liked to do. after he had been absent some time, the door was hastily opened again, and laura felt surprised to see harry come back with his face as red as a stick of sealing-wax, and his large eyes staring wider than they had ever stared before, with a look of rueful consternation. "what is the matter!" exclaimed laura in a terrified voice. "has anything dreadful happened? why do you look so frightened and so surprised?" "oh dear! oh dear! what shall i do?" cried harry, who seemed scarcely to know how he spoke, or where he was. "i don't know what to do, laura!" "what can be the matter! do tell me at once, harry," said laura, shaking with apprehension. "speak as fast as you can!" "will you not tell mrs. crabtree, nor grandmama, nor anybody else?" cried harry, bursting into tears. "i am so very, very sorry, and so frightened! laura! do you know, i took a candle into the next room, merely to play with it." "well! go on, harry! go on! what did you do with the candle?" "i only put it on the bed for a single minute, to see how the flame would look there,--well! do you know it blazed away famously, and then all the bed clothes began burning too! oh! there is such a terrible fire in the next room! you never saw anything like it! what shall we do? if old andrew were to come up, do you think he could put it out? i have shut the door that mrs. crabtree may not see the flames. be sure, laura, to tell nobody but andrew." laura became terrified at the way she saw poor harry in, but when she opened the door to find out the real state of affairs, oh! what a dreadful sight was there! all the beds were on fire, while bright red flames were blazing up to the roof of the room, with a fierce roaring noise, which it was perfectly frightful to hear. she screamed aloud with terror at this alarming scene, while harry did all he could to quiet her, and even put his hand over her mouth, that her cries might not be heard. laura now struggled to get loose, and called louder and louder, till at last every maid in the house came racing up stairs, three steps at a time, to know what was the matter. immediately upon seeing the flames, they all began screaming too, in such a loud discordant way, that it sounded as if a whole flight of crows had come into the passages. never was there such an uproar heard in the house before, for the walls echoed with a general cry of "fire! fire! fire!" up flew mrs. crabtree towards the nursery like a sky-rocket, scolding furiously, talking louder than all the others put together, and asking who had set the house on fire, while harry and laura scarcely knew whether to be most frightened for the raging flames, or the raging mrs. crabtree; but, in the meantime, they both shrunk into the smallest possible size, and hid themselves behind a door. during all this confusion, old andrew luckily remembered, that, in the morning, there had been a great washing in the laundry, where large tubs full of water were standing, so he called to the few maids who had any of their senses remaining, desiring them to assist in carrying up some buckets, that they might be emptied on the burning beds, to extinguish the flames if possible. every body was now in a hurry, and all elbowing each other out of the way, while it was most extraordinary to see how old andrew exerted himself, as if he had been a fireman all his life, while mrs. marmalade, the fat cook, who could hardly carry herself up stairs in general, actively assisted to bring up the great heavy tubs, and to pour them out like a cascade upon the burning curtains, till the nursery-floor looked like a duck pond. meantime harry and laura added to the confusion as much as they could, and were busier than anybody, stealing down the back-stairs whenever mrs. crabtree was not in sight, and filling their little jugs with water, which they brought up, as fast as possible, and dashed upon the flames, till at last, it is to be feared, they began to feel quite amused with the bustle, and to be almost sorry when the conflagration diminished. at one time, laura very nearly set her own frock on fire, as she ventured too near, but harry pulled her back, and then courageously advanced to discharge a shower from his own little jug, remaining stationary to watch the effect, till his face was almost scorched. at last the fire became less and less, till it went totally out, but not before the nursery furniture had been reduced to perfect ruins, besides which, betty had her arm sadly burned in the confusion. mrs. marmalade's cap was completely destroyed, and mrs. crabtree's best gown had so large a hole burned in the skirt, that she never could wear it again! after all was quiet, and the fire completely extinguished, major graham took laura down stairs to lady harriet's dressing-room, that she might tell the whole particulars of how this alarming accident happened in the nursery, for nobody could guess what had caused so sudden and dreadful a fire, which seemed to have been as unexpected as a flash of lightning. lady harriet had felt so terrified by the noise and confusion, that she was out of bed, sitting up in an arm-chair, supported by pillows, when laura entered, at the sight of whom, with her well-cropped head, she made an exclamation of perfect amazement. "why! who on earth is that! laura! my dear child! what has become of all your hair? were your curls burned off in the fire? or did the fright make you grow bald? what is the meaning of all this?" laura turned perfectly crimson with shame and distress, for she now felt convinced of her own great misconduct about the scissors and curls, but she had been taught on all occasions to speak the truth, and would rather have died than told a lie, or even allowed any person to believe what was not true, therefore she answered in a low, frightened voice, while the tears came into her eyes, "my hair has not been burned off, grandmama! but--but--" "well, child! speak out!" said lady harriet, impatiently, "did some hair-dresser come to the house and rob you?" "or are you like the ladies of carthage who gave their long hair for bows and arrows?" asked major graham. "i never saw such a little fright in my life as you look now; but tell us all about it?" "i have been quite as naughty as harry!" answered laura, bursting into tears and sobbing with grief; "i was cutting off my hair with mrs. crabtree's scissors all the time that he was setting the nursery on fire!" "did any mortal ever hear of two such little torments!" exclaimed major graham, hardly able to help laughing. "i wonder if anybody else in the world has such mischievous children!" "it is certainly very strange, that you and harry never can contrive to be three hours out of a scrape!" said lady harriet gravely; "now frank, on the contrary, never forgets what i bid him do. you might suppose he carried mrs. crabtree in his pocket, to remind him constantly of his duty; but there are not two such boys in the world as frank!" "no," added major graham; "harry set the house on fire, and frank will set the thames on fire!" when laura saw uncle david put on one of his funny looks, while he spoke in this way to lady harriet, she almost forgot her former fright, and became surprised to observe her grandmama busy preparing what she called a coach-wheel, which had been often given as a treat to harry and herself when they were particularly good. this delightful wheel was manufactured by taking a whole round slice of the loaf, in the centre of which was placed a large tea-spoonful of jelly, after which long spokes of marmalade, jam, and honey, were made to diverge most tastefully in every direction towards the crust, and laura watched the progress of this business with great interest and anxiety, wondering if it could be hoped that her grandmama really meant to forgive all her misconduct during the day. "that coach-wheel is, of course, meant for me!" said major graham, pretending to be very hungry, and looking slyly at laura; "it cannot possibly be intended for our little hair-dresser here!" "yes, it is!" answered lady harriet, smiling. "i have some thoughts of excusing laura this time, because she always tells me the truth, without attempting to conceal any foolish thing she does. it will be very long before she has any hair to cut off again, so i hope she may be older and wiser by that time, especially considering that every looking-glass she sees for six months will make her feel ashamed of herself. she certainly deserves some reward for having prevented the house to-night from being burned to the ground." "i am glad you think so, because here is a shilling that has been burning in my pocket for the last few minutes, as i wished to bestow it on laura for having saved all our lives, and if she had behaved still better, i might perhaps have given her a gold watch!" laura was busily employed in eating her coach-wheel, and trying to fancy what the gold watch would have looked like which she might probably have got from uncle david, when suddenly the door burst open, and mrs. crabtree hurried into the room, with a look of surprise and alarm, her face as red as a poppy, and her eye fixed on the hole in her best gown, while she spoke so loud and angrily, that laura almost trembled. "if you please, my lady! where can master harry be? i cannot find him in any corner!--we have been searching all over the house, up stairs and down stairs, in vain. not a garret or a closet but has been ransacked, and nobody can guess what has become of him!" "did you look up the chimney, mrs. crabtree?" asked major graham, laughing to see how excited she looked. "indeed, sir! it is no joke," answered mrs. crabtree, sulkily; "i am almost afraid master harry has been burned in the fire! the last time betty saw him, he was throwing a jug of water into the flames, and no one has ever seen or heard of him since! there is a great many ashes and cinders lying about the room, and----" "do you think, in sober seriousness, mrs. crabtree, that harry would melt away like a wax doll, without asking any body to extinguish him?" said major graham, smiling. "no! no! little boys are not quite so easily disposed of. i shall find harry in less than five minutes, if he is above ground." but uncle david was quite mistaken in expecting to discover harry so easily, for he searched and searched in vain. he looked into every possible or impossible place--the library, the kitchen, the garrets, the laundry, the drawing-room, all without success,--he peeped under the tables, behind the curtains, over the beds, beneath the pillows, and into mrs. crabtree's bonnet-box,--he even opened the tea-chest, and looked out at the window, in case harry had tumbled over, but nowhere could he be found. "not a mouse is stirring!" exclaimed major graham, beginning now to look exceedingly grave and anxious. "this is very strange! the house-door is locked, therefore, unless harry made his escape through the key-hole, he must be here! it is most unaccountable what the little pickle can have done with himself!" when major graham chose to exert his voice, it was as loud as a trumpet, and could be heard half a mile off; so he now called out, like thunder, from the top of the stairs to the bottom, saying, "hollo, harry! hollo! come here, my boy! nobody shall hurt you! harry! where are you!" uncle david waited to listen, but all was still,--no answer could be heard, and there was not a sound in the house, except poor laura at the bottom of the stairs, sobbing with grief and terror about harry having been lost, and mrs. crabtree grumbling angrily to herself, on account of the large hole in her best gown. by this time lady harriet nearly fainted with fatigue, for she was so very old, and had been ill all day; so she grew worse and worse, till everybody said she must go to bed, and try if it would be possible to fall asleep, assuring her that harry must soon be found, as nothing particular could have happened to him, or some person would have seen it. "indeed, my lady! master harry is just like a bad shilling that is sure to come back," said mrs. crabtree, helping her to undress, while she continued to talk the whole time about the fire, showing her own unfortunate gown, describing the trouble she had taken to save the house from being burned, and always ending every sentence with a wish that she could lay her hands on harry to punish him as he deserved. "the truth is, i just spoil and indulge the children too much, my lady!" added mrs. crabtree, in a self-satisfied tone of voice. "i really blame myself often for being over easy and kind." "you have nothing to accuse yourself of in that respect," answered lady harriet, unable to help smiling. "your ladyship is very good to say so. major graham is so fond of our young people, that it is lucky they have some one to keep them in order. i shall make a duty, my lady, of being more strict than ever. master harry must be made an example of this time!" added mrs. crabtree, angrily glancing at the hole in her gown. "i shall teach him to remember this day the longest hour he has to live!" "harry will not forget it any how," answered lady harriet languidly. "perhaps, mrs. crabtree, we might as well not be severe with the poor boy on this occasion. as the old proverb says, 'there is no use in pouring water on a drowned mouse.' harry has got a sad fright for his pains, and at all events you must find him first, before he can be punished. where can the poor child be hid?" "i would give sixpence to find out that, my lady!" answered mrs. crabtree, helping lady harriet into bed, after which she closed the shutters, put out the candles, and left the room, angrily muttering, "master harry cares no more for me than the poker cares for the tongs, but i shall teach him another story soon." lady harriet now feebly closed her eyes, being quite exhausted, and was beginning to feel the pleasant, confused sensation that people have before going to sleep, when some noise made her suddenly start quite awake. she sat up in bed to listen, but could not be sure whether it had been a great noise at a distance, or a little noise in the room; so after waiting two or three minutes, she sunk back upon the pillows, and tried to forget it. again, however, she distinctly heard something rustling in the bed curtains, and opened her eyes to see what could be the matter, but all was dark. something seemed to be breathing very near her, however, and the curtains shook worse than before, till lady harriet became really alarmed. "it must surely be a cat in the room!" thought she, hastily pulling the bell rope, till it nearly came down. "that tiresome little animal will make such a noise, i shall not be able to sleep all night!" the next minute lady harriet was startled to hear a loud sob close beside her; and when everybody rushed up stairs to ask what was the matter, they brought candles to search the room, and there was harry! he lay doubled up in a corner, and crying as if his heart would break, yet still endeavouring not to be seen; for harry always thought it a terrible disgrace to cry, and would have concealed himself anywhere, rather than be observed weeping. laura burst into tears also, when she saw what red eyes and pale cheeks harry had; but mrs. crabtree lost no time in pulling him out of his place, being quite impatient to begin her scold, and to produce her tawse, though she received a sad disappointment on this occasion, as uncle david unexpectedly interfered to get him off. "come now, mrs. crabtree," said he good-naturedly; "put up the tawse for this time; you are rather too fond of the leather. harry seems really sorry and frightened, so we must be merciful. that cataract of tears he is shedding now, would have extinguished the fire if it had come in time! harry is like a culprit with the rope about his neck; but he shall not be executed. let me be judge and jury in this case; and my sentence is a very dreadful one. harry must sleep all to-night in the burned nursery, having no other covering than the burned blankets, with large holes in them, that he may never forget "the terrible fire!" chapter iv. the prodigious cake. yet theirs the joy that lifts their steps, that sparkles in their eyes; that talks or laughs, or runs, or shouts, or plays, and speaks in all their looks, and all their ways. crabbe. next day after the fire, laura could think of nothing but what she was to do with the shilling that uncle david had given her; and a thousand plans came into her head, while many wants entered her thoughts, which never occurred before; so that, if twenty shillings had been in her hand instead of one, they would all have gone twenty different ways. lady harriet advised that it should be laid bye till laura had fully considered what she would like best; reminding her very truly, that money is lame in coming, but flies in going away. "many people can get a shilling, laura," said her grandmama; "but the difficulty is to keep it; for you know the old proverb tells that 'a fool and his money are soon parted.'" "yes, miss! so give it to me, and i shall take care of your shilling!" added mrs. crabtree, holding out her hand to laura, who fell that if her money once disappeared into that capacious pocket, she would never see it again. "children have no use for money! that shilling will only burn a hole in your purse, till it is spent on some foolish thing or other. you will be losing your thimble soon, or mislaying your gloves; for all these things seem to fly in every direction, as if they got legs and wings as soon as they belong to you; so then that shilling may replace what is lost." mrs. crabtree looked as if she would eat it up; but laura grasped her treasure still tighter in her hand, exclaiming, "no! no! this is mine! uncle david never thought of my shilling being taken care of! he meant me to do whatever i liked with it! uncle david says he cannot endure saving children, and that he wishes all money were turned into slates, when little girls keep it longer than a week." "i like that!" said harry, eagerly; "it is so pleasant to spend money, when the shopkeeper bows to me over the counter so politely, and asks what i please to want." "older people than you like spending money, master harry, and spend whether they have it or no; but the greatest pleasure is to keep it. for instance, miss laura, whatever she sees worth a shilling in any shop, might be hers if she pleases; so then it is quite as good as her own. we shall look in at the bazaar every morning, to fix upon something that she would like to have, and then consider of it for two or three days." laura thought this plan so very unsatisfactory, that she lost no time in getting her shilling changed into two sixpences, one of which she immediately presented to harry, who positively refused for a long time to accept of it, insisting that laura should rather buy some pretty plaything for herself; but she answered that it was much pleasanter to divide her fortune with harry, than to be selfish, and spend it all alone. "i am sure, harry," added she, "if this money had been yours, you would have said the same thing, and given the half of what you got to me; so now let us say no more about that, but tell me what would be the best use to make of my sixpence?" "you might buy that fine red morocco purse we saw in the shop window yesterday," observed harry, looking very serious and anxious, on being consulted. "do you remember how much we both wished to have it?" "but what is the use of a purse, with no money to keep in it!" answered laura, looking earnestly at harry for more advice. "think again of something else." "would you like a new doll?" "yes; but i have nothing to dress her with!" "suppose you buy that pretty geranium in a red flower-pot at the gardener's!" "if it would only live for a week, i might be tempted to try; but flowers will always die with me. they seem to wither when i so much as look at them. do you remember that pretty fuchsia that i almost drowned the first day grandmama gave it me; and we forgot for a week afterwards to water it at all. i am not a good flower doctor." "then buy a gold watch at once," said harry, laughing; "or a fine pony, with a saddle, to ride on." "now, harry, pray be quite in earnest. you know i might as well attempt to buy the moon as a gold watch; so think of something else." "it is very difficult to make a good use of money," said harry, pretending to look exceedingly wise. "do you know, laura, i once found out that you could have twelve of those large ship biscuits we saw at the baker's shop for sixpence. only think! you could feed the whole town, and make a present to everybody in the house besides! i dare say mrs. crabtree might like one with her tea. all the maids would think them a treat. you could present one to frank, another to old andrew, and there would still be some left for these poor children at the cottage." "oh! that is the very thing!" cried laura, running out of the room to send andrew off with a basket, and looking as happy as possible. not long afterwards, frank, who had returned from school, was standing at the nursery window, when he suddenly called out in a voice of surprise and amazement, "come here, harry! look at old andrew! he is carrying something tied up in a towel, as large as his own head! what can it be?" "that is all for me! these are my biscuits!" said laura, running off to receive the parcel, and though she heard frank laughing, while harry told all about them, she did not care, but brought her whole collection triumphantly into the nursery. "oh fancy! how perfect!" cried harry, opening the bundle; "this is very good fun!" "here are provisions for a siege!" added frank. "you have at least got enough for your money, laura!" "take one yourself, frank!" said she, reaching him the largest, and then, with the rest all tied in her apron, laura proceeded up and down stairs, making presents to every person she met, till her whole store was finished; and she felt quite satisfied and happy because everybody seemed pleased and returned many thanks, except mrs. crabtree, who said she had no teeth to eat such hard things, which were only fit for sailors going to america or the west indies. "you should have bought me a pound of sugar, miss laura, and that might have been a present worth giving." "you are too sweet already, mrs. crabtree!" said frank, laughing. "i shall send you a sugar-cane from the west indies, to beat harry and laura with, and a whole barrel of sugar for yourself, from my own estate." "none of your nonsense, master frank! get out of the nursery this moment! you with an estate indeed! you will not have a place to put your foot upon soon except the topmast in a man-of-war, where all the bad boys in a ship are sent." "perhaps, as you are not to be the captain, i may escape, and be dining with the officers sometimes! i mean to send you home a fine new india shawl, mrs. crabtree, the very moment i arrive at madras, and some china tea-cups from canton." "fiddlesticks and nonsense!" said mrs. crabtree, who sometimes enjoyed a little jesting with frank. "keep all them rattle-traps till you are a rich nabob, and come home to look for mrs. frank,--a fine wife she will be! ladies that get fortunes from india are covered all over with gold chains, and gold muslins, and scarlet shawls. she will eat nothing but curry and rice, and never put her foot to the ground except to step into her carriage." "i hope you are not a gipsey, to tell fortunes!" cried harry, laughing; "frank would die rather than take such a wife." "or, at least, i would rather have a tooth drawn than do it," added frank, smiling. "perhaps i may prefer to marry one of those old wives on the chimney-tops; but it is too serious to say i would rather die, because nobody knows how awful it is to die, till the appointed day comes." "very true and proper, master frank," replied mrs. crabtree; "you speak like a printed book sometimes, and you deserve a good wife." "then i shall return home some day with chests of gold, and let you choose one for me, as quiet and good-natured as yourself, mrs. crabtree," said frank, taking up his books and hastening off to school, running all the way, as he was rather late, and mr. lexicon, the master, had promised a grand prize for the boy who came most punctually to his lessons, which everybody declared that frank was sure to gain, as he had never once been absent at the right moment. major graham often tried to teaze frank, by calling him "the professor,"--asking him questions which it was impossible to answer, and then pretending to be quite shocked at his ignorance; but no one ever saw the young scholar put out of temper by those tricks and trials, for he always laughed more heartily than any one else, at the joke. "now show me, frank," said uncle david, one morning, "how do you advance three steps backwards?" "that is quite impossible, unless you turn me into a crab." "tell me, then, which is the principal town in caffraria?" "is there any town there? i do not recollect it." "then so much the worse!--how are you ever to get through life without knowing the chief town in caffraria! i am quite ashamed of your ignorance. now let us try a little arithmetic! open the door of your understanding and tell me, when wheat is six shillings a bushel, what is the price of a penny loaf. take your slate and calculate that." "yes, uncle david, if you will find out, when gooseberries are two shillings the pint, what is the price of a threepenny tart. you remind me of my old nursery song- 'the man in the wilderness asked me, how many strawberries grew in the sea; i answered him, as i thought it good, as many red herrings as grew in the wood.'" some days after laura had distributed the biscuits, she became very sorry for having squandered her shilling, without attending to lady harriet's good advice, about keeping it carefully in her pocket for at least a week, to see what would happen. a very pleasant way of using money now fell in her way, but she had been a foolish spendthrift, so her pockets were empty, when she most wished them to be full. harry came that morning after breakfast into the nursery, looking in a great bustle, and whispering to laura, "what a pity your sixpence is gone! but as mrs. crabtree says, 'we cannot both eat our cake and have it!'" "no!" answered laura, as seriously as if she had never thought of this before, "but why do you so particularly wish my money back to-day?" "because such a very nice, funny thing is to be done this morning. you and i are asked to join the party, but i am afraid we cannot afford it! all our little cousins and companions intend going with mr. harwood, the tutor, at twelve o'clock, to climb up to the very top of arthur's seat, where they are to dine and have a dance. there will be about twenty boys and girls of the party, but every body is to carry a basket filled with provisions for dinner, either cakes, or fruit, or biscuits, which are to be eat on the great rock at the top of the hill. now grandmama says we ought to have had money enough to supply what is necessary, and then we might have gone, but no one can be admitted who has not at least sixpence to buy something." "oh! how provoking!" said laura, sadly, "i wonder when we shall learn always to follow grandmama's advice, for that is sure to turn out best in the end. i never take my own way without being sorry for it afterwards, so i deserve now to be disappointed and remain at home; but, harry, your sixpence is still safe, so pray join this delightful party, and tell me all about it afterwards." "if it could take us both, i should be very happy, but i will not go without you, laura, after you were so good to me, and gave me this in a present. no, no! i only wish we could do like the poor madman grandmama mentioned, who planted sixpences in the ground that they might grow into shillings." "pray! what are you two looking so solemn about?" asked frank, hurrying into the room, at that moment, on his way to school. "are you talking of some mischief that has been done already, or only about some mischief you are intending to do soon?" "neither the one nor the other," answered laura. "but, oh! frank, i am sure you will be sorry for us, when we tell you of our sad disappointment!" she then related the whole story of the party to arthur's seat, mentioning that mr. harwood had kindly offered to take charge of harry and herself, but as her little fortune had been so foolishly squandered, she could not go, and harry said it would be impossible to enjoy the fun without her, though lady harriet had given them both leave to be of the party. all the time that laura spoke, frank stood, with his hands in his pockets, where he seemed evidently searching for something, and when the whole history was told, he said to harry, "let me see this poor little sixpence of yours! i am a very clever conjuror, and could perhaps turn it into a shilling!" "nonsense, frank!" said laura, laughing; "you might as well turn harry into uncle david!" "well! we shall see!" answered frank, taking up the sixpence. "i have put the money into this box!--rattle it well!--once! twice! thrice!--there, peep in!--now it is a shilling! i told you so!" frank ran joyously out of the room, being much amused with the joke, for he had put one of his own shillings into the box for harry and laura, who were excessively surprised at first, and felt really ashamed to take this very kind present from frank, when he so seldom had money of his own; but they knew how generous he was, for he often repeated that excellent maxim, "it is more blessed to give than to receive." after a few minutes, they remembered that nothing could prevent them now from going with mr. harwood to arthur's seat, which put laura into such a state of ecstacy, that she danced round the room for joy, while harry jumped upon the tables and chairs, tumbled head over heels, and called betty to come immediately that they might get ready. when mrs. crabtree heard such an uproar, she hastened also into the room, asking what had happened to cause this riot, and she became very angry indeed, to hear that harry and laura had both got leave to join in this grand expedition. "you will be spoiling all your clothes, and getting yourselves into a heat! i wonder her ladyship allows this! how much better you would be taking a quiet walk with me in the gardens! i shall really speak to lady harriet about it! the air must be very cold on the top of them great mountains! i am sure you will both have colds for a month after this tom-foolery." "oh no, mrs. crabtree! i promise not to catch cold!" cried harry, eagerly; "and, besides, you can scarcely prevent our going now, for grandmama has set out on her long airing in the carriage, so there is nobody for you to ask about keeping us at home, except uncle david!" mrs. crabtree knew from experience, that major graham was a hopeless case, as he always took part with the children, and liked nothing so much for old and young as "a ploy;" so she grumbled on to herself, while her eyes looked as sharp as a pair of scissors with rage. "you will come back, turned into scare-crows, with all your nice clean clothes in tatters," said she, angrily; "but if there is so much as a speck upon this best new jacket and trowsers, i shall know the reason why." "what a comfort it would be, if there were no such things in the world as 'new clothes,' for i am always so much happier in the old ones," said harry. "people at the shops should sell clothes that will never either dirty or tear!" "you ought to be dressed in fur, like robinson crusoe, or sent out naked, like the little savages," said mrs. crabtree, "or painted black and blue like them wild old britons that lived here long ago!" "i am black and blue sometimes, without being painted," said harry, escaping to the door. "good-bye, mrs. crabtree! i hope you will not die of weariness without us! on our return we shall tell you all our delightful adventures." about half an hour afterwards, harry and laura were seen hurrying out of the pastry-cook, mrs. weddell's shop, bearing little covered baskets in their hands, but nobody could guess what was in them. they whispered and laughed together with very merry faces, looking the very pictures of happiness, and running along as fast as they could to join the noisy party of their cousins and companions, almost fearing that mr. harwood might have set off without them. frank often called him "mr. punctuality," as he was so very particular about his scholars being in good time on all occasions; and certainly mr. harwood carried his watch more in his hand than in his pocket, being in the habit of constantly looking to see that nobody arrived too late. mail-coaches or steamboats could hardly keep the time better, when an hour had once been named, and the last words that harry heard when he was invited were, "remember! sharp twelve." the great clock of st. andrew's church was busy striking that hour, and every little clock in the town was saying the same thing, when mr. harwood himself, with his watch in his hand, opened the door, and walked out, followed by a dozen of merry-faced boys and girls, all speaking at once, and vociferating louder than the clocks, as if they thought everybody had grown deaf. "i shall reach the top of arthur's seat first," said peter grey. "all of you follow me, for i know the shortest way. it is only a hop, step, and a jump!" "rather a long step!" cried robert fordyce. "but i could lead you a much better way, though i shall show it to nobody but myself." "we must certainly drink water at st. anthony's well," observed laura; "because whatever any one wishes for when he tastes it, is sure to happen immediately." "then i shall wish that some person may give me a new doll," said mary forrester. "my old one is only fit for being lady's maid to a fine new doll." "i am in ninety-nine minds what to wish for," exclaimed harry; "we must take care not to be like the foolish old woman in the fairy tale, who got only a yard of black pudding." "i shall ask for a piebald pony, with a whip, a saddle, and a bridle!" cried peter grey; "and for a week's holidays,--and a new watch,--and a spade,--and a box of french plums,--and to be first at the top of arthur's seat,--and--and--" "stop, peter!--stop! you can only have one wish at st. anthony's well," interrupted mr. harwood. "if you ask more, you lose all." "that is very hard, for i want everything," replied peter. "what are you wishing for, sir?" "what shall i ask for?" said mr. harwood, reflecting to himself. "i have not a want in the world?" "o yes, sir! you must wish for something!" cried the whole party, eagerly. "do invent something to ask, mr. harwood!" "then i wish you may all behave well till we reach the top of arthur's seat, and all come safely down again." "you may be sure of that already!" said peter, laughing. "i set such a very good example to all my companions, that they never behave ill when i am present,--no! not even by accident! when dr. algebra examined our class to-day, he asked mr. lexicon, 'what has become of the best boy in your school this morning?' and the answer was, 'of course your mean peter grey! he is gone to the top of arthur's seat with that excellent man, mr. harwood!'" "indeed!--and pray, master peter, what bird whispered this story into your ear, seeing it has all happened since we left home!--but people who are praised by nobody else, often take to praising themselves!" "who knows better!--and here is harry graham, the very ditto of myself,--so steady he might be fit to drill a whole regiment. we shall lead the party quite safely up the hill, and down again, without any ladders." "and without wings," added harry, laughing; "but what are we to draw water out of the well with?--here are neither buckets, nor tumblers, nor glasses!" "i could lend you my thimble!" said laura, searching her pocket. "that will hold enough of water for one wish, and every person may have the loan of it in turn." "this is the very first time your thimble has been of use to anybody!" said harry, slyly; "but i dare say it is not worn into holes with too much sewing, therefore it will make a famous little magical cup for st. anthony's well. you know the fairies who dance here by moonlight, lay their table-cloth upon a mushroom, and sit round it, to be merry, but i never heard what they use for a drinking cup." harry now proceeded briskly along to the well, singing as he went, a song which had been taught him by uncle david, beginning, i wish i were a brewer's horse, five quarters of a year, i'd place my head where was my tail, and drink up all the beer. before long the whole party seated themselves in a circle on the grass round st. anthony's well, while any stranger who had chanced to pass might have supposed, from the noise and merriment, that the saint had filled his well with champagne and punch for the occasion, as everybody seemed perfectly tipsy with happiness. mr. harwood laughed prodigiously at some of the jokes, and made a few of his own, which were none of the best, though they caused the most laughter, for the boys thought it very surprising that so grave and great a man should make a joke at all. when mary forrester drank her thimbleful of water, and wished for a new doll, peter and harry privately cut out a face upon a red-cheeked apple, making the eyes, nose, and mouth, after which, they hastily dressed it up in pocket handkerchiefs, and gave her this present from the fairies, which looked so very like what she had asked for, that the laugh which followed was loud and long. afterwards peter swallowed his draught, calling loudly for a piebald pony, when harry in his white trowsers, and dark jacket, went upon all-fours, and let peter mount on his back. it was very difficult, however, to get peter off again, for he enjoyed the fun excessively, and stuck to his seat like sinbad's old man of the sea, till at last harry rolled round on his back, tumbling peter head over heels into st. anthony's well, upon seeing which, mr. harwood rose, saying, he had certainly lost his own wish, as they had behaved ill, and met with an accident already. harry laughingly proposed that peter should be carefully hung upon a tree to dry, till they all came down again; but the mischievous boy ran off so fast, he was almost out of sight in a moment, saying, "now for the top of arthur's seat, and i shall grow dry with the fatigue of climbing." the boys and girls immediately scattered themselves all over the hill, getting on the best way they could, and trying who could scramble up fastest, but the grass was quite short, and as slippery as ice, therefore it became every moment more difficult to stand, and still more difficult to climb. the whole party began sliding whether they liked it or not, and staggered and tried to grasp the turf, but there was nothing to hold, while occasionally a shower of stones and gravel came down from peter, who pretended they fell by accident. "oh, harry!" cried laura, panting for breath, while she looked both frightened and fatigued, "if this were not a party of pleasure, i think we are sometimes quite as happy in our own gardens! people must be very miserable at home, before they come here to be amused! i wish we were cats, or goats, or any thing that can stand upon a hill without feeling giddy." "i think this is very good fun!" answered harry, gasping and trying not to tumble for the twentieth time; "you would like perhaps to be back in the nursery with mrs. crabtree." "no! no! i am not quite so bad as that! but harry! do you ever really expect to reach the top? for i never shall; so i mean to sit down quietly here, and wait till you all return." "i have a better plan than that, laura! you shall sit upon the highest point of arthur's seat as well as anybody, before either of us is an hour older! let me go first, because i get on famously, and you must never look behind, but keep tight hold of my jacket, so then every step i advance will pull you up also." laura was delighted with this plan, which succeeded perfectly well, but they ascended rather slowly, as it was exceedingly fatiguing to harry, who looked quite happy all the time to be of use, for he always felt glad when he could do any thing for anybody, more particularly for either laura or frank. now, the whole party was at last safely assembled on the very highest point of arthur's seat, so the boys threw their caps up in the air, and gave three tremendous cheers, which frightened the very crows over their heads, and sent a flock of sheep scampering down the mountain side. after that, they planted mr. harwood's walking-stick in the ground, for a staff, while harry tore off the blue silk handkerchief which mrs. crabtree had tied about his neck, and without caring whether he caught cold or not, he fastened it on the pole for a flag, being quite delighted to see how it waved in the wind most triumphantly, looking very like what sailors put up when they take possession of a desert island. "now, for business!" said mr. harwood, sitting down on the rock, and uncovering a prodigious cake, nearly as large as a cheese, which he had taken the trouble to carry, with great difficulty, up the hill. "i suppose nobody is hungry after our long walk! let us see what all the baskets contain!" not a moment was lost in seating themselves on the grass, while the stores were displayed, amidst shouts of laughter and applause which generally followed whatever came forth. sandwiches, or, as peter grey called them, "savages;" gingerbread, cakes, and fruit, all appeared in turn. robert fordyce brought a dozen of hard-boiled eggs, all dyed different colours, blue, green, pink, and yellow, but not one was white. edmund ashford produced a collection of very sour-looking apples, and charles forrester showed a number of little gooseberry tarts, but when it became time for peter's basket to be opened, it contained nothing except a knife and fork to cut up whatever his companions would give him! "peter! peter! you shabby fellow!" said charles forrester, reaching him one of his tarts, "you should be put in the tread-mill as a sturdy beggar!" "or thrown down from the top of this precipice," added harry, giving him a cake. "i wonder you can look any of us in the face, peter!" "i have heard," said mr. harwood, "that a stone is shown in ireland, called 'the stone of blarney,' and whoever kisses it, is never afterwards ashamed of any thing he does. our friend peter has probably passed that way lately!" "at any rate, i am not likely to be starved to death amongst you all!" answered the impudent boy, demolishing every thing he could get; and it is believed that peter ate, on this memorable occasion, three times more than any other person, as each of the party offered him something, and he never was heard to say, "no!" "i could swallow arthur's seat if it were turned into a plum-pudding," said he, pocketing buns, apples, eggs, walnuts, biscuits, and almonds, till his coat stuck out all round like a balloon. "has any one any thing more to spare?" "did you ever hear," said mr. harwood, "that a pigeon eats its own weight of food every day? now, i am sure, you and i know one boy in the world, peter, who could do as much." "what is to be done with that prodigious cake you carried up here, mr. harwood?" answered peter, casting a devouring eye upon it; "the crust seems as hard as a rhinoceros' skin, but i dare say it is very good. one could not be sure though, without tasting it! i hope you are not going to take the trouble of carrying that heavy load back again?" "how very polite you are become all on a sudden, peter!" said laura, laughing. "i should be very sorry to attempt carrying that cake to the bottom of the hill, for we would both roll down, the shortest way, together." "i am not over-anxious to try it either," observed charles forrester, shaking his head. "even peter, though his mouth is constantly ajar, would find that cake rather heavy to carry, either as an inside or an outside passenger." "i can scarcely lift it at all!" continued laura, when mr. harwood had again tied it up in the towel; "what can be done?" "here is the very best plan!" cried harry, suddenly seizing the prodigious cake; and before any body could hinder him, he gave it a tremendous push off the steepest part of arthur's seat, so that it rolled down like a wheel, over stones and precipices, jumping and hopping along with wonderful rapidity, amidst the cheers and laughter of all the children, till at last it reached the bottom of the hill, when a general clapping of hands ensued. "now for a race!" cried harry, becoming more and more eager. "the first boy or girl who reaches that cake shall have it all to himself!" mr. harwood tried with all his might to stop the commotion, and called out that they must go quietly down the bank, for harry had no right to give away the cake, or to make them break their legs and arms with racing down such a hill: but he might as well have spoken to an east wind, and asked it not to blow. the whole party dispersed, like a hive of bees that has been upset; and in a moment they were in full career after the cake. some of the boys tried to roll down, hoping to get on more quickly. others endeavoured to slide, and several attempted to run, but they all fell; and many of them might have been tumblers at sadler's wells, they tumbled over and over so cleverly. peter grey's hat was blown away, but he did not stop to catch it. charlie hume lost his shoe, robert fordyce sprained his ancle, and every one of the girls tore her frock. it was a frightful scene; such devastation of bonnets and jackets as had never been known before; while mr. harwood looked like the general of a defeated army, calling till he became hoarse, and running till he was out of breath, vainly trying thus to stop the confusion, and to bring the stragglers back in better order. meantime, harry and peter were far before the rest, though edward ashford was following hard after them in desperate haste, as if he still hoped to overtake their steps. suddenly, however, a loud cry of distress was heard over-head; and when harry looked up, he saw so very alarming a sight, that he could scarcely believe his eyes, and almost screamed out himself with the fright it gave him, while he seemed to forget in a moment, the race, peter grey, and the prodigious cake. laura had been very anxious not to trouble harry with taking care of her in coming down the bank again; for she saw that during all this fun about the cake, he perfectly forgot that she was not accustomed every day to such a scramble on the hills, and would have required some help. after looking down every side of the descent, and thinking that each appeared steeper than another, while they all made her equally giddy, laura determined to venture on a part of the hill which seemed rather less precipitous than the rest; but it completely cheated her, being the most difficult and dangerous part of arthur's seat. the slope became steeper and steeper at every step; but laura always tried to hope her path might grow better, till at last she reached a place where it was impossible to stop herself. down she went, down! down! whether she would or not, screaming and sliding on a long slippery bank, till she reached the very edge of a dangerous precipice, which appeared higher than the side of a room. laura then grappled hold of some stones and grass, calling loudly for help, while scarcely able to keep from falling into the deep ravine, which would probably have killed her. her screams were echoed all over the hill, when harry seeing her frightful situation, clambered up the bank faster than any lamplighter, and immediately flew to laura's assistance, who was now really hanging over the chasm, quite unable to help herself. at last he reached the place where poor laura lay, and seized hold of her by the frock; but for some time it seemed an equal chance whether she dragged him into the hole, or he pulled her away from it. luckily, however, by a great effort, harry succeeded in delivering laura, whom he placed upon a secure situation, and then, having waited patiently till she recovered from the fright, he led her carefully and kindly down to the bottom of arthur's seat. now, all the boys had already got there, and a violent dispute was going on about which of them first reached the cake. peter grey had pushed down edward ashford, who caught hold of robert fordyce, and they all three rolled to the bottom together, so that nobody could tell which had won the race; while mr. harwood laboured in vain to convince them that the cake belonged neither to the one nor the other, being his own property. they all laughed at harry for being distanced, and arriving last; while mr. harwood watched him coming down, and was pleased to observe how carefully he attended to laura, though still, being annoyed at the riot and confusion which harry had occasioned, he determined to appear exceedingly angry, and put on a very terrible voice, saying, "hollo! young gentleman! what shall i do to you for beginning this uproar? as the old proverb says, 'one fool makes many.' how dare you roll my fine cake down the hill in this way, and send everybody rolling after it? look me in the face, and say you are ashamed of yourself!" harry looked at mr. harwood--and mr. harwood looked at harry. they both tried to seem very grave and serious, but somehow harry's eyes glittered very brightly, and two little dimples might be seen in his cheeks. mr. harwood also had his eye-brows gathered into a terrible frown, but still his eyes were likewise sparkling, and his mouth seemed to be pursed up in a most comical manner. after staring at each other for several minutes, both mr. harwood and harry burst into a prodigious fit of laughing, and nobody could tell which began first or laughed longest. "master graham! you must send a new frock to every little girl of the party, and a suit of clothes to each of the boys, for having caused theirs to be all destroyed. i really meant to punish you severely for beginning such a riot, but something has made me change my mind. in almost every moment of our lives, we either act amiably of unamiably, and i observed you treat miss laura so kindly and properly all this morning, that i shall say not another word about "the prodigious cake." chapter v. the last clean frock. "for," said she, in spite of what grandmama taught her, "i'm really remarkably fond of the water." * * * * * she splashed, and she dashed, and she turned herself round, and heartily wished herself safe on the ground. once upon a time harry and laura had got into so many scrapes, that there seemed really no end to their misconduct. they generally forgot to learn any lessons--often tore their books--drew pictures on their slates, instead of calculating sums--and made the pages of their copy-books into boats; besides which, mrs. crabtree caught them one day, when a party of officers dined at lady harriet's, with two of the captain's sword-belts buckled round their waists, and cocked hats upon their heads, while they beat the crown of a gentleman's hat with a walking-stick, to sound like a drum. still it seemed impossible to make uncle david feel sufficiently angry at them, though mrs. crabtree did all she could to put him in a passion, by telling the very worst; but he made fifty excuses a-minute, as if he had been the naughty person himself, instead of harry or laura, and above all he said that they both seemed so exceedingly penitent when he explained their delinquencies, and they were both so ready to tell upon themselves, and to take all the blame of whatever mischief might be done, that he was determined to shut his eyes and say nothing, unless they did something purposely wrong. one night, when mrs. crabtree had gone out, major graham felt quite surprised on his return home from a late dinner party, to find laura and harry still out of bed. they were sitting in his library when he entered, both looking so tired and miserable that he could not imagine what had happened; but harry lost no time in confessing that he and laura feared they had done some dreadful mischief, so they could not sleep without asking pardon, and mentioning whose fault it was, that the maids might not be unjustly blamed. "well, you little imps of mischief! what have i to scold you for now?" asked uncle david, not looking particularly angry. "is it something that i shall be obliged to take the trouble of punishing you for? we ought to live in the highlands, where there are whole forests of birch ready for use? why are your ears like a bell-rope, harry? because they seem made to be pulled. now, go on with your story. what is the matter?" "we were playing about the room, uncle david, and laura lost her ball, so she crept under that big table which has only one large leg. there is a brass button below, so we were trying if it would come off, when all on a sudden, the table fell quite to one side, as you see it now, tumbling down those prodigious books and tin boxes on the floor! i cannot think how this fine new table could be so easily broken; but whenever we even look at anything, it seems to break!" "yes, harry! you remind me of meddlesome matty in the nursery rhymes, "sometimes she'd lift the teapot lid to peep at what was in it, or tilt the kettle, if you did but turn your back a minute. in vain you told her not to touch, her trick of meddling grew so much." you have scarcely left my poor table a leg to stand upon! how am i ever to get it mended?" "perhaps the carpenter could do it to-morrow!" "or, perhaps uncle david could do it this moment," said major graham, raising the fallen side with a sudden jerk, when harry and laura heard a sound under the table like the locking of a door, after which the whole affair was rectified. "did i ever--!" exclaimed harry, staring with astonishment, "so we have suffered all our fright for nothing, and the table was not really broken! i shall always run to you, uncle david, when we are in a scrape, for you are sure to get us off." "do not reckon too certainly on that, master harry; it is easier to get into one than to get out of it, any day; but i am not so seriously angry at the sort of scrapes laura and you get into, because you would not willingly and deliberately do wrong. if any children commit a mean action, or get into a passion, or quarrel with each other, or omit saying their prayers and reading their bibles, or tell a lie, or take what does not belong to them, then it might be seen how extremely angry i could be; but while you continue merely thoughtless and forgetful, i mean to have patience a little longer before turning into a cross old uncle with a pair of tawse." harry sprung upon uncle david's knee, quite delighted to hear him speak so very kindly, and laura was soon installed in her usual place there also, listening to all that was said, and laughing at his jokes. "as mrs. crabtree says," continued major graham, "'we cannot put an old head on young shoulders;' and it would certainly look very odd if you could." so uncle david took out his pencil, and drew a funny picture of a cross old wrinkled face upon young shoulders, like laura's, and after they had all laughed at it together for about five minutes, he sent the children both to bed, quite merry and cheerful. a long time elapsed afterwards without anything going wrong; and it was quite pleasant to see such learning of lessons, such attention to rules, and such obedience to mrs. crabtree, as went on in the nursery during several weeks. at last, one day, when lady harriet and major graham were preparing to set off on a journey, and to pay a short visit at holiday house, laura and harry observed a great deal of whispering and talking in a corner of the room, but they could not exactly discover what it was all about, till major graham said very earnestly, "i think we might surely take laura with us." "yes," answered lady harriet, "both the children have been invited, and are behaving wonderfully well of late, but lord rockville has such a dislike to noise, that i dare not venture to take more than one at a time. poor laura has a very severe cough, so she may be recovered by change of air. as for harry, he is quite well, and therefore he can stay at home." now, harry thought it very hard that he was to be left at home, merely because he felt quite well, so he immediately wished to be very ill indeed, that he might have some chance of going to holiday house; but then he did not exactly know how to set about it. at all events, harry determined to catch a cold like laura's, without delay. he would not, for the whole world have pretended to suffer from a cough if he really had none, because uncle david had often explained that making any one believe an un-truth was the same as telling a lie; but he thought there might be no harm in really getting such a terrible cold, that nothing could possibly cure it except change of air, and a trip to holiday house with laura. accordingly harry tried to remember every thing that mrs. crabtree had forbid him to do "for fear of catching cold." he sprinkled water over his shirt collar in the morning before dressing, that it might be damp; he ran violently up and down stairs to put himself in a heat, after which he sat between the open window and door till he felt perfectly chilled; and when going to bed at night, he washed his hair in cold water without drying it. still, all was in vain! harry had formerly caught cold a hundred times when he did not want one; but now, such a thing was not to be had for love or money. nothing seemed to give him the very slightest attempt at a cough; and when the day at last arrived for lady harriet to begin her journey, harry still felt himself most provokingly well. not so much as a finger ached, his cheeks were as blooming as roses, his voice as clear as a bell, and when uncle david accidentally said to him in the morning, "how do you do?" harry was obliged, very much against his will, to answer, "quite well, i thank you!" in the meantime, laura would have felt too happy if harry could only have gone with her; and even as it was, being impatient for the happy day to arrive, she hurried to bed an hour earlier than usual the night before, to make the time of setting out appear nearer; and she could scarcely sleep or eat for thinking of holiday house, and planning all that was to be done there. "it is pleasant to see so joyous a face," said major graham. "i almost envy you, laura, for being so happy." "oh! i quite envy myself! but i shall write a long letter every day to poor harry, telling him all the news, and all my adventures." "nonsense! miss laura! wait till you come home," said mrs. crabtree. "who do you think is going to pay postage for so many foolish letters?" "i shall!" answered harry. "i have got sixpence, and two pence, and a half penny, so i shall buy every one of laura's letters from the postman, and write her an answer immediately afterwards. she will like to hear, mrs. crabtree, how very kind you are going to be, when i am left by myself here. perhaps you will play at nine pins with me, and laura can lend you her skipping rope." "you might as well offer uncle david a hobby-horse," said frank, laughingly, throwing his satchel over his shoulders. "no, harry! you shall belong to me now. grandmama says you may go every day to my play-ground, where all the school-boys assemble, and you can have plenty of fun till laura comes back. we shall jump over the moon every morning, for joy." harry brightened up amazingly, thinking he had never heard such good news before, as it was a grand piece of promotion to play with real big school-boys; so he became quite reconciled to laura's going away for a short time without him; and when the hour came for taking leave, instead of tears being shed on either side, it would have been difficult to say, as they kissed each other and said a joyous good-bye, which face looked the most delighted. all laura's clothes had been packed the night before, in a large chaise seat, which was now put into the carriage along with herself, and every thing seemed ready for departure, when lady harriet's maid was suddenly taken so very ill, as to be quite unfit for travelling; therefore she was left behind, and a doctor sent for to attend her; while lady harriet said she would trust to the maids at holiday house, for waiting upon herself and laura. it is seldom that so happy a face is seen in this world, as laura wore during the whole journey. it perfectly sparkled and glittered with delight, while she was so constantly on a broad grin laughing, that major graham said he feared her mouth would grow an inch wider on the occasion. "you will tire of sitting so long idle! it is a pity we did not think of bringing a few lesson-books in the carriage to amuse you, laura," said the major, slyly. "a piece of needle-work might have beguiled the way. i once knew an industrious lady who made a ball dress for herself in the carriage during a journey." "how very stupid of her to miss seeing all the pretty trees, and cottages, and farm-houses! i do like to watch the little curly-headed, dirty children, playing on the road, with brown faces, and hair bleached white in the sun; and the women hanging out their clothes on the hedges to dry; and the blacksmith shoeing horses, and the ducks swimming in the gutters, and the pigs thrusting their noses out of the sty, and the old women knitting stockings, and the workmen sitting on a wall to eat their dinners! it looks all so pretty, and so pleasant!" "what a picture of rural felicity! you ought to be a poet or a painter, laura!" "but i believe poets always call this a miserable world: and i think it the happiest place i have ever been in, uncle david! such fun during the holidays! i should go wild altogether, if mrs. crabtree were not rather cross sometimes." "or very cross always," thought major graham. "but here we are, laura, near our journey's end. allow me to introduce you to holiday house! why, you are staring at it like a dog looking at a piece of cold beef! my dear girl, if you open your eyes so wide, you will never be able to shut them again!" holiday house was not one of those prodigious places, too grand to be pleasant, with the garden a mile off in one direction, and the farm a mile off in another, and the drawing-room a mile off from the dining-room; but it was a very cheerful modern mansion, with rooms enough to hold as many people as any one could desire to see at once, all very comfortably furnished. a lively, dashing river, streamed past the windows; a small park, sprinkled with sheep, and shaded by fine trees, surrounded the house; and beyond were beautiful gardens filled with a superabundance of the gayest and sweetest common flowers. roses, carnations, wall flowers, holly-hocks, dahlias, lilies, and violets, were assembled there in such crowds, that laura might have plucked nosegays all day, without making any visible difference; and she was also made free of the gooseberry bushes and cherry-trees, with leave to gather, if she pleased, more than she could eat. every morning, laura entered the breakfast-room with cheeks like the roses she carried, bringing little bouquets for all the ladies, which she had started out of bed early, in order to gather; and her great delight was to see them worn and admired all the forenoon, while she was complimented on the taste with which they had been selected and arranged. she filled every ornamental jar, basin, and tea-cup in the drawing-room, with groups of roses, and would have been the terror of any gardener but the one at holiday house, who liked to see his flowers so much admired, and was not keeping up any for a horticultural show. laura's chief delight, however, was in the dairy, which seemed the most beautiful thing she had ever beheld, being built of rough transparent spar, which looked exactly like crystal, and reminded her of the ice palace built by the empress of russia. the windows were of painted glass; the walls and shelves were of dutch tiles, and in the centre rose a beautiful jet d'eau of clear bright water. laura thought it looked like something built for the fairies; but within she saw a most substantial room, the floor and tables in which were so completely covered with cheeses, that they looked like some old mosaic pavement. here the good-natured dairy-maid showed laura how to make cheese, and afterwards manufactured a very small one about the size of a soup plate, entirely for the young lady herself, which she promised to take home after her visit was over; and a little churn was also filled full of cream, which laura one morning churned into butter, and breakfasted upon, after having first practised printing it into a variety of shapes. it was altered about twenty times from a swan into a cow, and from a cow into a rose, and from a rose back to a swan again, before she could be persuaded to leave off her amusement. laura continued to become more and more delighted with holiday house; and she one day skipped about lady harriet's room, saying, "oh! i am too happy! i scarcely know what to do with so much happiness. how delightful it would be to stay here all my life, and never to go to bed, nor say any more lessons as long as i live!" "what a useless, stupid girl you would soon become," observed lady harriet. "do you think, laura, that lessons were invented for no other purpose but to torment little children?" "no, grandmama; not exactly! they are of use also to keep us quiet." "come here, little madam, and listen to me. i shall soon be very old, laura, and not able to read my bible, even with spectacles; for, as the scriptures told us, in that affecting description of old age, which i read to you yesterday, 'the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened:' what then do you think i can do, because the bible now is my best comfort, which i shall need more and more every day, to tell me all about the eternal world where i am going, and to shew me the way." "grandmama! you promised long ago to let me attend on you when you grow old and blind! i shall be very careful, and very--very--very kind. i almost wish you were old and blind now, to let you feel how much i love you, and how anxious i am to be as good to you as you have always been to me. we shall read the bible together every morning, and as often afterwards as you please." "thank you, my dear child! but you must take the trouble of learning to read well, or we shall be sadly puzzled with the difficult words. a friend of mine once had nobody that could read to her when she was ill, but the maid, who bargained that she might leave out every word above one syllable long, because they were too hard for her; and you could hardly help laughing at the nonsense it sometimes made; but i hope you will manage better." "o certainly, grandmama! i can spell chrononhotonthologos, and all the other five-cornered words in my 'reading made easy,' already." "besides that, my dear laura! unless you learn to look over my bills, i may be sadly cheated by servants and shop-keepers. you must positively study to find out how many cherries make five." "ah! grandmama! nobody knows better than i do, that two and two make four. i shall soon be quite able to keep your accounts." "very well! but you have not yet heard half the trouble i mean to give you. i am remarkably fond of music, and shall probably at last be obliged to hire every old fiddler as he passes in the street, by giving him sixpence in order to enjoy some of my favourite tunes." "no, grandmama! you shall hear them all from me. i can play malbrook, and auld robin grey, already; and frank says if i practise two hours every day for ten years, i shall become a very tolerable player, fit for you and uncle david to hear, without being disagreeable." "then that will be more than seven thousand hours of musical lessons which you have yet to endure, laura! there are many more things of still greater importance to learn also, if you wish to be any better than a musical snuff-box. for instance, when visitors come to see me, they are often from france or italy; but perhaps you will not mind sitting in the room as if you were deaf and dumb, gazing at those foreigners, while they gaze at you, without understanding a syllable they say, and causing them to feel strange and uncomfortable as long as they remain in the house." "no! i would not for the world seem so unkind and uncivil. pray, let me learn plenty of languages." "very well! but if you study no geography, what ridiculous blunders you will be falling into! asking the italians about their native town madrid, and the americans if they were born at petersburgh. you will be fancying that travellers go by steam-boats to moscow, and travel in a day from paris, through stockholm to naples. how ashamed i should be of such mistakes!" "and so should i, grandmama, still more than you; for it would be quite a disgrace." "do you remember, laura, your uncle david laughing, when he last went to live at leamington, about poor mrs. marmalade coming up stairs to say, she did not wish to be troublesome, but should feel greatly obliged if he would call at portsmouth occasionally to see her son thomas. and when captain armylist's regiment was ordered last winter to the village of bathgate near this, he told me they were to march in the course of that morning, all the way to bagdad." "yes, grandmama! and mrs. crabtree said some weeks ago, that if her brother went to van dieman's land, she thought he would of course in passing, take a look at jerusalem; and frank was amused lately to hear peter grey maintain, that gulliver was as great a man as columbus, because he discovered liliput!" "quite like him! for i heard peter ask one day lately, what side bonaparte was on at the battle of leipsic? we must include a little history i think, laura, in our list of studies, or you will fancy that lord nelson fought at the battle of blenheim, and that henry viii. cut off queen mary's head." "not quite so bad as that, grandmama! i seem to have known all about lord nelson and queen mary, ever since i was a baby in long frocks! you have shewn me, however, that it would be very foolish not to feel anxious for lessons, especially when they are to make me a fit companion for you at last." "yes, laura! and not only for me, but for many whose conversation will entertain and improve you more than any books. the most delightful accomplishment that a young person can cultivate, is that of conversing agreeably; and it is less attended to in education than any other. you cannot take a harp or piano about with you, but our minds and tongues are always portable, and accompany us wherever we go. if you wish to be loved by others, and to do good to your associates, as well as to entertain them, take every opportunity of conversing with those who are either amiable or agreeable; not only attending to their opinions, but also endeavouring to gain the habit of expressing your own thoughts with ease and fluency; and then rest assured, that if the gift of conversation be rightly exercised, it is the most desirable of all, as no teaching can have greater influence in leading people to think and act aright, than the incidental remarks of an enlightened christian, freely and unaffectedly talking to his intimate friends." "well, grandmama! the moral of all this is, that i shall become busier than any body ever was before, when we get home; but in the meantime, i may take a good dose of idleness now at holiday house, to prepare me for settling to very hard labour afterwards," said laura, hastily tying on her bonnet. "i wonder if i shall ever be as merry and happy again!" most unfortunately, all the time of laura's visit at holiday house, she had been, as usual, extremely heedless, in taking no care whatever of her clothes; consequently her blue merino frock had been cruelly torn; her green silk dress became frightfully soiled; four white frocks were utterly ruined; her swiss muslin seemed a perfect object, and her pink gingham was both torn and discoloured. regularly every evening lady harriet told her to take better care, or she would be a bankrupt in frocks altogether; but whatever her grandmama said on that subject, the moment she was out of sight, it went out of mind, till another dress had shared the same deplorable fate. at last, one morning, as soon as laura got up, lady harriet gravely led her towards a large table on which all the ill-used frocks had been laid out in a row; and a most dismal sight they were! such a collection of stains and fractures was probably never seen before! a beggar would scarcely have thanked her for her blue merino; and the green silk frock looked like the tattered cover of a worn-out umbrella. "laura," said lady harriet, "in switzerland a lady's wardrobe descends to many generations; but nobody will envy your successor! one might fancy that a wild beast had torn you to pieces every day! i wonder what an old clothesman would give for your whole baggage! it is only fit for being used as rags in a paper manufactory!" poor laura's face became perfectly pink when she saw the destruction that a very short time had occasioned: and she looked from one tattered garment to another, in melancholy silence, thinking how lately they had all been fresh and beautiful; but now not a vestige of their former splendour remained. at last her grandmama broke the awful silence, by saying, "my dear girl! i have warned you very often lately that we are not at home, where your frocks could be washed and mended as soon as they were spoiled; but without considering this you have, every day, destroyed several, so now the maid finds, on examining your drawers, that there is only one clean frock remaining!" laura looked gravely at the last clean frock, and wondered much what her grandmama would say next. "i do not wish to make a prisoner of you at home during this very fine weather, yet in five minutes after leaving the house, you will, of course, become unfit to be seen, which i should very much regret, as a number of fine people are coming to dinner, whom you would like to see. the great general courteney, and all his aide-de-camps, intend to be here on their way from a review, besides many officers and ladies who know your papa very well, and wish to see my little grand-daughter; but i would not on any account allow you to appear before them, looking like a perfect tatterdemalion, as you too often do. they would suppose you had been drawn backwards through a hedge! now my plan is, that you shall wear this old pink gingham for romping all morning in the garden, and dress in your last clean frock for dinner; but remember to keep out of sight till then. remain within the garden walls, as none of the company will be walking there, but be sure to avoid the terrace and shrubberies till you are made tidy, for i shall be both angry and mortified if your papa's friends see you for the first time looking like rag-fair." laura promised to remember her grandmama's injunctions, and to remain invisible all morning; so off she set to the garden, singing and skipping with joy, as she ran towards her pleasant hiding-place, planning twenty ways in which the day might be delightfully spent alone. before long she had strung a long necklace of daisies--she had put many bright leaves in a book to dry--she had made a large ball of cowslips to toss in the air--she had watered the hyacinths, with a watering-pot, till they were nearly washed away--she had plucked more roses than could possibly be carried, and eat as many gooseberries and cherries as it was convenient to swallow,--but still there were several hours remaining to be enjoyed, and nothing very particular, that laura could think of, to do. meantime, the miserable pink frock was torn worse than ever, and seemed to be made of nothing but holes, for every gooseberry-bush in the garden had got a share of it. laura wished pink gingham frocks had never been invented, and wondered why nothing stronger could be made! having become perfectly tired of the garden, she now wished herself anywhere else in the world, and thought she was no better off, confined in this way within four walls, than a canary bird in a cage. "i should like so much to go, if it were only for five minutes, on the terrace!" said she to herself. "how much pleasanter it is than this. grandmama did not care where i went, provided nobody saw me! i may at least take a peep to see if any one is there!" laura now cautiously opened the garden-door, and put her head out, intending only to look for a moment, but the moment grew longer and longer, till it stretched into ten minutes. "what crowds of fine people are walking about on the terrace!" thought she. "it looks as gay as a fair! who can that officer be in a red coat, and cocked hat with white feathers. probably general courteney paying attention to lady rockville. there is a lady in a blue cloak and blue flowers! how very pretty! everybody is so exceedingly smart! and i see some little boys too! grandmama never told me any children were coming! i wonder how old they are, and if they will play with me in the evening! it would be very amusing to venture a little nearer, and get a better glimpse of them all!" if laura's wishes pointed one way and her duty pointed the other, it was a very sad thing how often she forgot to pause and consider which she ought to follow; and on this occasion, as usual, she took the naughty side of the question, and prepared to indulge her curiosity, though very anxious that nothing might happen to displease her grandmama. she observed at some distance on the terrace, a remarkably large thick holly-bush, near which the great procession of company would probably pass before long, therefore, hoping nobody could possibly see her there, she stole hastily out of the garden, and concealed herself behind it; but when children do wrong, in hopes of not being found out, they generally find themselves mistaken, as laura soon discovered to her cost. it is very lucky, however, for the culprits, when they are detected, that they may learn never to behave so foolishly again, because the greatest misfortune that can happen to a child is, not to be found out and punished when he does wrong. a few minutes after laura had taken her station behind the holly-bush, crowds of ladies and officers came strolling along, so very near her hiding-place, that she saw them all distinctly, and felt excessively amused and delighted at first, to be perched like a bird in a tree watching this grand party, while nobody saw her, nor guessed that she was there. presently, however, laura became sadly frightened when an officer in a scarlet coat happened to look towards the holly-bush, and exclaimed, with some surprise, "there is surely something very odd about that plant! i see large pink spots between the leaves!" "oh no, captain digby, you are quite mistaken," answered one of the ladies, dressed in a bright yellow bonnet and green pelisse. "i see nothing particular there! only a common ugly bush of holly! i wonder you ever thought of noticing it!" "but, miss perceval! there certainly is something very curious behind! i would bet five to one there is!" replied captain digby, stepping up, close to the holly-bush, and peeping over: "what have we here! a ragged little girl, i do believe! in a pink frock!" poor laura was now in a terrible scrape; she started up immediately to run away. probably she never ran so fast in her life before, but captain digby was a person who enjoyed a joke, so he called out "tally-ho! a race for a thousand pounds!" off set the captain, and away flew laura. at any other time she would have thought it capital fun, but now she was frightened out of her wits, and tore away at the very top of her speed. the whole party of ladies and gentlemen stood laughing, and applauding, to see how fast they both cleared the ground, while laura, seeing the garden gate still wide open, hoped she might be able to dart in, and close it, but alas! when she arrived within four steps of the threshold, feeling almost certain of escape, captain digby seized hold of her pink frock behind. it instantly began tearing, so she had great hopes of leaving the piece in his hand and getting off; but he was too clever for that, as he grasped hold of her long sash, which was floating far out behind, and led laura a prisoner before the whole company. when lady harriet discovered that this was really laura advancing, her head hanging down, her hair streaming about her ears, and her face like a full moon, she could scarcely credit her own eyes, and held her hands up with astonishment, while uncle david shrugged his shoulders, till they almost met over his head, but not a word was said on either side until they got home, when lady harriet at last broke the awful silence by saying, "my dear girl! you must, of course, be severely punished for this act of disobedience, and it is not so much on account of feeling angry at your misconduct that i mean to correct you, but because i love you, and wish to make you behave better in future. parents are appointed by god to govern their children as he governs us, not carelessly indulging their faults, but wisely correcting them, for we are told that our great father in heaven chastens those whom he loves, and only afflicts us for great and wise purposes. i have suffered many sorrows in the world, but they always made me better in the end, and whatever discipline you meet with from me, or from that great being who loves you still more than i do, let it teach you to consider your ways, to repent of your wilfulness, and to pray that you may be enabled to act more properly in future." "yes, grandmama," replied laura, with tears in her eyes, "i am quite willing to be punished, for it was very wrong indeed to make you so vexed and ashamed, by disobeying your orders." "then here is a long task which you must study before dinner, as a penalty for trespassing bounds. it is a beautiful poem on the death of sir john moore, which every school-girl can repeat, but being rather long, you will scarcely have time to learn it perfectly, before coming down to dessert, therefore, that you may be quite ready, i shall ring now for lady rockville's maid, and have you washed and dressed immediately. remember this is your last clean frock, and be sure not to spoil it." when laura chose to pay attention, she could learn her lessons wonderfully fast, and her eyes seemed nailed to the book for some time after lady harriet went away, till at last she could repeat the whole poem perfectly well. it was neither "slowly nor sadly" that laura "laid down" her book, after practising it all, in a sort of jig time, till she could rattle over the poem like a rail-road, and she walked to the window, still murmuring the verses to herself with prodigious glee, and giving little thought to their melancholy subject. a variety of plans suggested themselves to her mind for amusing herself within doors, as she had been forbidden to venture out, and she lost no time in executing them. first, she tried on all her grandmama's caps at a looking-glass, none of which were improved by being crushed and tumbled in such a way. then she quarrelled with lady rockville's beautiful cockatoo, till it bit her finger violently, and after that, she teazed the old cat till it scratched her; but all these diversions were not sufficiently entertaining, so laura began to grow rather tired, till at last she went to gaze out at the portico of holiday house, being perfectly determined, on no account whatever, to go one single step farther. here laura saw many things which entertained her extremely, for she had scarcely ever seen more of the country than was to be enjoyed with mrs. crabtree in charlotte square. the punctual crows were all returning home at their usual hour for the evening, and looked like a black shower over her head, while hundreds of them seemed trying to make a concert at once; the robins hopped close to her feet, evidently accustomed to be fed; a tame pheasant, as fat as a london alderman, came up the steps to keep her company; and the peacock, spreading his tail, and strutting about, looked the very picture of silly pride and vanity. laura admired and enjoyed all this extremely, and crumbled down nearly a loaf of bread, which she scattered on the ground, in order to be popular among her visitors, who took all they could get from her, and quarrelled among themselves about it, very much as boys and girls would perhaps have done in the same circumstances. it happened at this moment, that a large flock of geese crossed the park, on their way towards the river, stalking along in a slow majestic manner, with their heads high in the air. laura observed them at a distance, and thought they were the prettiest creatures in the world, with their pure white feathers and yellow stockings, so she wondered what kind of birds these were, having never seen a goose before, except when roasted for dinner, though, indeed, she was a sad goose herself, as will very soon be told. "how i should like to examine those large, white, beautiful birds, a little nearer," thought laura to herself. "i wonder if they could swim or fly!--oh! how perfect they would look, floating like water-lilies on the river, and then i might take a bit of bread to throw in, and they would all rush after it!" laura, as usual, did not wait to reflect what her grandmama might be likely to think; indeed it is to be feared laura forgot at the moment that she had a grandmama at all, for her mind was never large enough to hold more than one thing at a time, and now it was entirely filled with the flock of geese. she instantly set off in pursuit of them, and began chasing the whole party across the park, making all sorts of dreadful noises, in hopes they might fly; but, on the contrary, they held up their heads, as if she had been a dancing-master, and marched slowly on, cackling loudly to each other, and evidently getting extremely angry. laura was now quite close to her new acquaintances, and even threw a pebble to hurry them forward, when suddenly an old gander stopped, and turned round in a terrible rage. the whole flock of geese then did the same, after which they flew towards laura, with their bills wide open, hissing furiously, and stretching out their long necks in an angry menacing way, as if they wished to tear her in pieces. poor laura became frightened out of any wits she ever had, and ran off, with all the geese after her! anybody must have laughed into fits, could they have heard what a triumphant cackle the geese set up, and had they seen how fast she flew away. if laura had borrowed a pair of wings from her pursuers, she could scarcely have got more quickly on. in the hurry of escaping, she always looked back to see if the enemy followed, and scarcely observed which way she ran herself, till suddenly her foot stumbled over a large stone, and she fell headlong into the river!--oh, what a scream laura gave! it terrified even the old gander himself, and sent the whole flock of geese marching off, nearly as fast as they had come; but laura's cries also reached, at a great distance, the ears of somebody, who she would have been very sorry to think had heard them. lady harriet, and all her friends at holiday house, were taking a delightful walk under some fine old fir trees, on the banks of the river, admiring the beautiful scenery, while miss perceval was admiring nothing but her own fine pocket handkerchief, which had cost ten guineas, being worked with her name, trimmed with lace, and perfumed with eau de cologne; and captain digby was admiring his own scarlet uniform, reflected in the bright clear water, and varying his employment occasionally by throwing pebbles into the stream, to see how far they would go. suddenly, however, he stopped, with a look of surprise and alarm, saying, "what noise can that be!--a loud scream in the water!" "oh dear, no! it was only one of those horrid peacocks," answered miss perceval, waving her fine pocket handkerchief. "they are the most disagreeable, noisy creatures in the world! if mama ever keeps one, i shall get him a singing-master, or put a muzzle on his mouth!" "but surely there is something splashing in the river at a great distance. do you not see that!--what can it be?" "nothing at all, depend upon it! i could bet the value of my pocket handkerchief, ten guineas, that it is nothing. officers who live constantly in barracks are so unaccustomed to the country, that they seem to expect something wonderful shall happen every minute! that is probably a salmon or a minnow." "i am determined, however, to see. if you are quite sure this is a salmon, will you promise to eat for your dinner whatever we find, provided i can catch it?" "certainly! unless you catch a whale! oh! i have dropped my pocket handkerchief,--pray pick it up!" captain digby did so; but without waiting to examine the pattern, he instantly ran forward, and to his own very great astonishment, saw laura up to her knees in the river, trying to scramble out, while her face was white with terror, and her limbs trembled with cold, like a poodle dog newly washed. "why, here you are again!--the very same little girl that i caught in the morning," cried he, laughing heartily, while he carefully pulled laura towards the bank, though, by doing so, he splashed his beautiful uniform most distressingly. "we have had a complete game at bo-peep to-day, my friend! but here comes a lady who has promised to eat you up, therefore i shall have no more trouble." laura would have consented to be eaten up with pleasure, rather than encounter lady harriet's eye, who really did not recognize her for the first minute, as no one can suppose what a figure she appeared. the last clean frock had been covered entirely over with mud--her hair was dripping with water--and her new yellow sash might be any colour in the world. laura felt so completely ashamed she could not look up from the ground, and so sorry she could not speak, while hot tears mingled themselves with the cold water which trickled down her face. "what is the matter! who is this?" cried lady harriet, hurrying up to the place where they stood. "laura!! impossible!!!" "let me put on a pair of spectacles, for i cannot believe my eyes without them!" said major graham. "ah! sure enough it is laura, and such a looking laura as i never saw before. you must have had a nice cold bath!" "i have heard," continued lady harriet, "that naughty people are often ducked in the water as a punishment, and in that respect i am sure laura deserves what she has got, and a great deal more." "she reminds me," observed captain digby, "of the chinese bird which has no legs, so it constantly flies about from place to place, never a moment at rest." "follow me, laura," said lady harriet, "that i may hear whether you have anything to say for yourself on this occasion. it is scarcely possible that there can be any excuse, but nobody should be condemned unheard." when laura had been put into dry clothes, she told her whole history, and entreated lady harriet to hear how very perfectly she had first learned her task, before venturing to stir out of the room; upon which her grandmama consented, and amidst tears and sobs, the monody on sir john moore was repeated without a single mistake. lady rockville then came in, to entreat that, as this was the last day of the visit to holiday house, laura might be forgiven and permitted to appear at dessert, as all the company were anxious to see her, and particularly captain digby, who regretted that he had been the means at first of getting her into a scrape. "indeed, my dear lady rockville! i might perhaps have agreed to your wishes," answered lady harriet, "particularly as laura seems sincerely sorry, and did not premeditate her disobedience; but she actually has not a tolerable frock to appear in now!" "i must lend her one of my velvet dresses to destroy next," said lady rockville, smiling. "uncle david's mackintosh cloak would be the fittest thing for her to wear," replied lady harriet, rising to leave the room. "laura, you must learn a double task now! here it is! and at lady rockville's request i excuse you this once; though i am sorry that, for very sufficient reasons, we cannot see you at dessert, which otherwise i should have been most happy to do." laura sat down and cried during a quarter of an hour after lady harriet had gone to dinner. she felt sorry for having behaved ill, and sorry to have vexed her good grandmama; and sorry not to see all the fine party at dessert; and sorry to think that next day she must leave holiday house; and sorry, last of all, to consider what mrs. crabtree would say when all her ruined frocks were brought home. in short, poor laura felt perfectly overwhelmed with the greatness and variety of her griefs, and scarcely believed that any one in the world was ever more miserable than herself. her eyes were fixed on her task, while her thoughts were wandering fifty miles away from it, when a housemaid, who had frequently attended upon laura during her visit, accidentally entered the room, and seemed much surprised, as well as concerned, to find the young lady in such a way, for her sobbing could be heard in the next room. it was quite a relief to see any one; so laura told over again all the sad adventures of the day, without attempting to conceal how naughty she had been; and most attentively was her narrative listened to, till the very end. "you see, miss!" observed nelly, "when people doesn't behave well, they must expect to be punished." "so they should!" sobbed laura; "and i dare say it will make me better! i would not pass such a miserable day as this again, for the world; but i deserve to be more punished than i am." "that's right, miss!" replied nelly, pleased to see the good effect of her admonitions. "punishment is as sure to do us good when we are naughty, as physic when we are ill. but now you'll go down to dessert, and forget it all." "no! grandmama would have allowed me, and lady rockville and every body was so very kind about inviting me down; but my last clean frock is quite unfit to be seen, so i have none to put on. oh, dear! what a thousand million of pities!" "is that all, miss! then dry your eyes, and i can wash the frock in ten minutes. give it to me, and learn your lesson, so as to be ready when i come back." laura sprung off her seat with joy at this proposal, and ran--or rather flew--to fetch her miserable object of a frock, which nelly crumpled under her arm, and walked away with, in such haste that she was evidently determined to return very soon; while laura took her good advice, and sat down to learn her task, though she could hardly look at the book during two minutes at a time--she watched so impatiently for her benefactress from the laundry. at length the door flew open, and in walked nelly, whose face looked as red and hot as a beefsteak; but in her hand she carried a basket, on which was laid out, in great state, the very cleanest frock that ever was seen! it perfectly smelled of soap and water, starch and hot irons, and seemed still almost smoking from the laundry; while laura looked at it with such delight and admiration, it might have been supposed she never saw a clean frock before. when lady harriet was sitting after dinner that day, sipping her wine, and thinking about no thing very particular, she became surprised to feel somebody gently twitching her sleeve to attract notice. turning instantly round to ascertain what was the matter, and who it could be, what was her astonishment to see laura at her elbow, looking rather shy and frightened. "how did you get here, child!" exclaimed lady harriet, in accents of amazement, though almost laughing. "am i never to see the last of you to-day! where did you get that frock! it must have dropped from the clouds! or did some good fairy give you a new one?" "that good fairy was nelly the housemaid," whispered laura. "she first tossed my frock into a washing-tub; and then at the great kitchen fire she toasted it, and----" "----and buttered it, i hope," added major graham. "come here, laura! i can read what is written in your grandmama's face at this moment; and it says, 'you are a tiresome little puss, that nobody can keep in any order except uncle david;' therefore sit down beside him, and eat as many almonds and raisins as he bids you." "you are a nice, funny uncle david!" whispered laura, crushing her way in between his chair and miss perceval's, "nobody will need a tongue now, if you can read so exactly what we are all thinking." "but here is miss perceval, still more wonderful; for she knows by the bumps on your head, all that is contained inside. let me see if i could do so! there is a large bump of reading, and a small one of writing and arithmetic. here is a terrible organ of breaking dolls and destroying frocks. there is a very small bump of liking uncle david, and a prodigious one of liking almonds and raisins!" "no! you are quite mistaken! it is the largest bump for loving uncle david, and the small one for every thing else," interrupted laura, eagerly. "i shall draw a map of my head some day, to show you how it is all divided." "and leave no room for any thing naughty or foolish! your head should be swept out, and put in order every morning, that not a single cobweb may remain in your brains. what busy brains they must be for the next ten years! but in the meantime let us hope that you will never again be reduced to your "last clean frock." chapter vi. the long ladder. there was a young pickle, and what do you think? he liv'd upon nothing but victuals and drink; victuals and drink were the chief of his diet, and yet this young pickle could never be quiet. one fine sultry day in the month of august, harry and laura stood at the breakfast-room window, wondering to see the large broken white clouds, looking like curds and whey, while the sun was in such a blaze of heat, that every thing seemed almost red hot. the street door had become blistered by the sun-beams. jowler the dog lay basking on the pavement; the green blinds were closed at every opposite house; the few gentlemen who ventured out, were fanning themselves with their pocket handkerchiefs; the ladies were strolling lazily along, under the umbrageous shade of their green parasols; and the poor people who were accustomed in winter to sell matches for lighting a fire, now carried about gaudy paper hangings for the empty grates. lady harriet found the butter so melted at breakfast, that she could scarcely lift it on her knife; and uncle david complained that the sight of hot smoking tea put him in a fever, and said he wished it could be iced. "i wonder how iced porridge would taste!" said harry. "i put mine at the open window to cool, but that only made it seem hotter. we were talking of the gentleman you mentioned yesterday, who toasted his muffins at a volcano; and certainly yours might almost be done at the drawing-room window this morning." "wait till you arrive at the countries i have visited, where, as somebody remarked, the very salamanders die of heat. at agra, which is the hottest part of india, we could scarcely write a letter, because the ink dries in the pen before you can get it to the paper. i was obliged, when our regiment was there, to lie down in the middle of the day, during several hours, actually gasping for breath; and to make up for that, we all rose at midnight. an officer of ours, who lived long in india, got up always at three in the morning, after we returned home, and walked about the streets of portsmouth, wondering what had become of everybody." "i shall try not to grumble about weather any more," said laura. "we seem no worse off than other people." "or rather we are a great deal better off! at bermuda, where my regiment stopped on the way to america, the inhabitants are so tormented with high winds, that they build 'hurricane houses'--low, flat rooms, where the families must retire when a storm comes on, as trees, houses, people, and cattle, are all whirled about with such violence, that not a life is safe on the island while it lasts." "that reminds me," said lady harriet, "of a droll mistake made yesterday by the african camel, when he landed at leith. his keepers were leading him along the high road to be made a show of in edinburgh, at a time when the wind was particularly high; and the poor animal encountering such clouds of dust, thought this must be a simoon of the desert, and threw himself flat down, burying his nose in the ground, according to custom on those occasions. it was with great difficulty that he could at last be induced to face the danger, and proceed." "quite a compliment to our dust," observed laura. "but really in such a hot day, the kangaroos and tigers might feel perfectly at home here. oh! how i should like to visit the geological gardens in london!" "then suppose we set off immediately!" said major graham, pretending to rise from his chair. "your grandmama's donkey-carriage holds two." "ah! but you could carry the donkey-carriage more easily than it could carry you!" "shall i try? well, if we go, who is to pay the turnpikes, for i remember the time, not a hundred years ago, when harry and you both thought that paying the gates was the only expense of travelling. you asked me then how poor grandmama could afford so many shillings and sixpences." "we know all about every thing now though!" said harry, nodding in a very sagacious manner. "i can tell exactly how much time it takes going by the public coach to london, and it sleeps only one night on the road." "sleeps!" cried uncle david. "what! it puts on a night-cap, and goes to bed?" "yes! and it dines and breakfasts too, mr. uncle david, for i heard mrs. crabtree say so." "never name anybody, unless you wish to see her immediately," said major graham, hearing a well-known tap at the door. "as sure as you mention an absent person, if he is supposed to be fifty miles off at the time, it is rather odd, but he instantly appears!" "then there is somebody that i shall speak about very often." "who can this mr. somebody be?" asked uncle david, smiling. "a foolish person that spoils you both i dare say, and gives you large slices of bread and jelly like this. hold them carefully! now, good bye, and joy be with you." but it was with rather rueful faces that harry and laura left the room, wishing they might have remained another hour to talk nonsense with uncle david, and dreading to think what new scrapes and difficulties they would get into in the nursery, which always seemed to them a place of torture and imprisonment. major graham used to say that mrs. crabtree should always have a thermometer in her own room when she dressed, to tell her whether the weather was hot or cold, for she seemed to feel no difference, and scarcely ever made any change in her own attire, wearing always the same pink gown and scarlet shawl, which made her look like a large red flower-pot, while she was no more annoyed with the heat than a flower-pot would have been. on this very oppressive morning she took as much pains in suffocating harry with a silk handkerchief round his neck, as if it had been christmas, and though laura begged hard for leave to go without one of her half-a-dozen wrappings, she might as well have asked permission to go without her head, as mrs. crabtree seemed perfectly deaf upon the subject. "this day is so very cold and so very shivering," said harry, slyly, "that i suppose you will make laura wear at least fifty shawls." "not above twenty," answered mrs. crabtree, dryly. "give me no more of your nonsense, master harry! this is no business of yours! i was in the world long before you were born, and must know best; so hold your tongue. none but fools and beggars need ever be cold." at last mrs. crabtree had heaped as many clothes upon her two little victims, as she was pleased to think necessary; so she sallied forth with them, followed by betty, and proceeded towards the country, taking the sunny side of the road, and raising clouds of dust at every step, till harry and laura felt as if they had been made of wax, and were melting away. "mrs. crabtree!" said harry, "did you hear uncle david's funny story yesterday? one hot morning a gentleman was watching an ant's nest, when he observed, that every little insect, as it came out, plucked a small leaf, to hold over its head, as a parasol! i wish we could find leaves large enough for us." "you must go to the botanical gardens, where one leaf of a palm-tree was shown to grandmama, which measured fourteen feet long," observed laura. "how horrid these very warm countries must be, where the heat is all the year round like this!" "you may well say that," answered mrs. crabtree. "i would not go to them east indies--no! not if i were governess-general,--to be running away with a tiger at your back, and sleeping with real live serpents twisted round the bed-post, and scorpions under your pillow! catch me there! i'm often quite sorry for master frank, to think that his ship is maybe going that way! i'm told the very rats have such a smell in that outlandish place, that if they touch the outside of a bottle with their tails, it tastes of musk ever after; and when people are sitting comfortably down, expecting to enjoy their dinner, a swarm of great ants will come, and fall, an inch thick, on all the side-dishes. i've no desire whatever to see foreign parts!" "but i wish to see every country in the universe," said harry; "and i hope there will be a rail-road all round the world before i am grown up. only think, mrs. crabtree, what fun lion-hunting must be, and catching dolphins, and riding on elephants." the pedestrians had now arrived at the pretty village of corstorphine, when they were unexpectedly met by peter grey, who joined them without waiting to ask leave. here the hills are so beautifully wooded, and the villas so charming, that harry, peter, and laura stopped a moment, to consider what house they would like best to live in. near one side of the road stood a large cart of hay, on the top of which were several men, forking it in at the window of a high loft, which could only be entered by a long ladder that leaned against the wall. it was a busy joyous scene, and soon attracted the children's whole attention, who were transfixed with delight, seeing how rapidly the people ran up and down, with their pitchforks in their hands, and tilted the hay from the cart into the loft, while they had many jokes and much laughter among themselves. at last their whole business was finished, and the workmen drove away for another supply, to the neighbouring fields, where they had been raking and tossing it all morning, as merry as crickets. "what happy people!" exclaimed harry, looking wistfully after the party, and wishing he might have scrambled into the cart beside them. "i would be a haymaker for nothing, if anybody would employ me; would not you, peter?" "it is very strange," said master grey, "why little ladies and gentlemen seem always obliged to endure a perfectly useless walk every day, as you and laura are doing now. you never saw animals set out to take a stroll for the good of their healths! how odd it would be to see a couple of dogs set off for a country walk!" "miss laura!" said mrs. crabtree, "master harry may rest here for a minute or two with master peter, and let them count their fingers, while you come with betty and me to visit a sick old aunt of mine who lives round the corner; but be sure, boys, you do not presume to wander about, or i shall punish you most severely. we are coming back in two minutes." mrs. crabtree had scarcely disappeared into a small shabby-looking cottage, before peter turned eagerly to harry, with a face of great joy and importance, exclaiming, "only see how very lucky this is! the haymakers have left their long ladder, standing on purpose for us! the window of that loft is wide open, and i must climb up immediately to peep in, because never, in all my life, did i see the inside of a hay-loft before!" "nor i!" added harry. "uncle david says, that all round the floor there are deep holes, called mangers, down which food is thrown for the horses, so that they can thrust their heads in, to take a bite, whenever they choose." "how i should hate to have my dinner hung up always before my nose in that way! suppose the kitchen were placed above your nursery, and that mrs. marmalade showered down tarts and puddings, which were to remain there till you ate them, you would hate the sight of such things at last. but now, harry, for the hay-loft." peter scrambled so rapidly up the ladder, that he soon reached the top, and instantly vanished in at the window, calling eagerly for harry to follow. "you never saw such a nice, clean, funny place as this, in all your life!--make haste!--come faster!--never mind crushing your hat or tearing your jacket,--i'll put it all to rights. ah! there!--that's the thing!--walk up, gentlemen! walk up!--the grand show!--sixpence each, and children half-price!" all this time, harry was slowly, and with great difficulty, picking his steps up the ladder, but a most troublesome business it was! first, his foot became entangled in a rope,--then his hat got squeezed so out of shape, it looked perfectly tipsy,--next, one of his shoes nearly came off,--and afterwards he dropped his gloves; but at last he stumbled up in safety, and stood beside peter in the loft, both laughing with delight at their own enterprize. the quantity of hay piled up on all sides, astonished them greatly, while the nice, wide floor between, seemed larger than any drawing-room, and was certainly made on purpose for a romp. harry rolled up a large ball of hay to throw at peter, while he, in return, aimed at him, so they ran after each other, round and round the loft, raising such a riot, that the very "rafters dirled." the hay now flew about in clouds, while they jumped over it, or crept under it, throwing handfuls about in every direction, and observing that this was the best play-room they had ever been in. "how lucky that we came here!" cried peter. "i should like to stay an hour at least!" "oh! two hours,--or three,--or all day," added harry. "but what shall we do about mrs. crabtree? she has not gone to settle for life with that old sick aunt, so i am afraid we must really be hurrying back, in case she may find out our expedition, and that, you know, peter, would be dreadful!" "only fancy, harry, if she sees you and me clinging to the ladder, about half way down! what a way she would be in!" "we had better make haste," said harry, looking around. "what would grandmama say!--i wish we had never come up!" at this moment, harry was still more brought to his senses, by hearing mrs. crabtree's voice, exclaiming, in loud angry accents, "where in all the world can those troublesome boys be gone! i must tether them to a tree the next time they are left together! why! sure! they would not venture up that long ladder in the hay-loft! if they have, they had better never come down again, for i shall shew who is master here." "peter grey would run up a ladder to the stars, if he could find one," replied betty. "here are master harry's gloves lying at the bottom of it. they can be gone nowhere else, for i have searched every other place. we must send the town-crier with his bell after them, if they are not found up there!" mrs. crabtree now seemed fearfully angry, while laura began to tremble with fright for harry, who was listening overhead, and did not know very well what to do, but foolishly thought it best to put off the evil hour of being punished as long as possible; so he and peter silently crept in below a great quantity of hay, and hid themselves so cunningly, that even a thief-catcher could scarcely have discovered their den. in this dark corner, harry had time to reflect and to feel more and more alarmed and sorry for his misconduct, so he said, in a very distressed voice, "oh, peter! what a pity it is ever to be naughty, for we are always found out, and always so much happier when we are good!" "i wonder how mrs. crabtree will get up the long ladder?" whispered peter, laughing. "i would give my little finger, and one of my ears, to see her and betty scrambling along!" harry had to pinch peter's arm almost black and blue before he would be quiet; and by the time he stopped talking, mrs. crabtree and betty were both standing in the hay-loft, exceedingly out of breath with climbing so unusually high, while mrs. crabtree very nearly fell, having stumbled over a step at the entrance. "why, sure! there's nobody here!" exclaimed she, in a disappointed tone. "and what a disorderly place this is! i thought a hay-loft was always kept in such nice order, with the floor all swept! but here is a fine mess! those two great lumps of hay in the corner look as if they were meant for people to sleep upon!" harry gave himself up for lost when mrs. crabtree noticed the place where he and peter had buried themselves alive; but to his great relief, no suspicion seemed to have been excited, and neither of the two searchers were anxious to venture beyond the door, after having so nearly tripped upon the threshold. "they must have been stolen by a gipsey, or perhaps fallen into a well," said betty, who rather liked the bustle of an accident. "i always thought master peter would break his neck, or something of that kind. poor thing! how distressed his papa will be!" "hold your tongue," interrupted mrs. crabtree, angrily. "i wish people would either speak sense, or not speak at all! did you hear a noise among the hay?" "rats, i dare say! or perhaps a dog!" answered betty, turning hastily round, and hurrying down the ladder faster than she had come up. "i certainly thought something moved in yon far corner." "where can that little shrimp of a boy be hid?" added mrs. crabtree, following. "he must have obedience knocked like a nail into his head, with a few good severe blows. i shall beat him to powder when once we catch him." "you may depend upon it," persisted betty, "that some gipsey has got the boys for the sake of their clothes. it will be a great pity, because master harry had on his best blue jacket and trowsers." no sooner was the loft cleared of these unwelcome visitors, than harry and peter began to recover from their panic, and jumped out of the hay, shaking themselves free from it, and skipping about in greater glee than ever. while they played about, as they had done before, and tumbled as if they had been tumblers at ducrow's, poor harry got into such spirits, that he completely forgot about the deep holes called mangers, for containing the horse's food, till all at once, when peter was running after him, he fell, with a loud crash, headlong into one of them! oh! what a scream he gave!--it echoed through the stable, terrifying a whole team of horses that were feeding there, more particularly the one into whose manger he had fallen. the horse gave a tremendous start when harry plunged down close to his nose, and not being able to run away, he put back his ears, opened his mouth, and kicked and struggled in the most frightful manner, while harry, who could not make his escape any more than the horse, shouted louder and louder for help. peter did all he could to assist harry in this extraordinary predicament, but finding it impossible to be of any use, he forgot their terror of mrs. crabtree in his fears about harry, and rushed to the window, calling back their two pursuers, who were walking away at a great distance. he screamed and hollooed, and waved his handkerchief, without ceasing, till at last mrs. crabtree heard him, and turned round, but never was anybody more astonished then she was, on seeing him there, so she scolded, stormed, and raged, up to the very foot of the ladder. "now, you are the besiegers, and i am the garrison!" cried peter, when he saw mrs. crabtree panting and toiling in her ascent. "we must make a treaty of peace together, for i could tumble you over in a minute, by merely pushing this end a very little more to one side!" "do not touch it, master peter!" cried mrs. crabtree, almost afraid he was in earnest. "there is a good boy,--be quiet!" "a good boy!!" whispered peter to himself. "what a fright mrs. crabtree must be in, before she said that!" the next moment mrs. crabtree snatched harry out of the manger, and shook him with rage. she then scolded and beat him, till he was perfectly stupified with fright and misery, after which the whole party were allowed to proceed towards home, while harry stumbled along the road, and hung down his head, wishing, fifty times over, that he and peter grey had never gone up the long ladder. chapter vii. the mad bull. there's something in a noble boy, a brave, free-hearted, careless one; with his uncheck'd, unbidden joy, his dread of books and love of fun. and in his clear and ready smile, unshaded by a thought of guile and unrepress'd by sadness,- which brings me to my childhood back, as if i trod its very track, and felt its very gladness. willis. one evening, when harry and laura came down to dessert, they were surprised to observe the two little plates usually intended for them, turned upside down, while uncle david pretended not to notice anything, though he stole a glance to see what would happen next. on lifting up these mysterious plates, what did they see lying underneath, but two letters with large red seals, one directed to "master harry graham," and the other to "miss laura graham." "a letter for me!!" cried harry, in a tone of delighted astonishment, while he tore open the seal, and his hand shook with impatience, so that he could hardly unfold the paper. "what can it be about! i like getting a letter very much! is it from papa? did the postman bring it?" "yes, he did," said uncle david: "and he left a message that you must pay a hundred pounds for it to-morrow." "very likely, indeed," said laura; "you should pay that for telling me such a fine story; but my letter is worth more than a hundred pounds, for it is inviting me to spend another delightful week at holiday house." "i am asked too! and not mrs. crabtree!" cried harry, looking at his letter, and almost screaming out for joy, whilst he skipped about the room, rubbing his hands together, and ended by twirling laura round and round, till they both fell prostrate on the floor. "if that be meant as a specimen of how you intend to behave at holiday house, we had better send your apology at once," observed lady harriet, smiling. "lord rockville is very particular about never hearing any noise, and the slamming of a door, or even the creaking of a pair of unruly shoes, would put him distracted." "yes!" added uncle david, "holiday house is as quiet as harry's drum with a hole in it. if a pin drops in any part of the mansion, lord rockville becomes annoyed, and the very wasps scarcely dare to buz at his window so loud as at any other person's. you will feel quite fish-out-of-water-ish, trying to be quiet and hum-drum for a whole week, so let me advise you not to go." "the meaning of advice always is something that one would rather wish not to do," observed laura, gravely. "i never in my life was advised to enjoy anything pleasant! taking physic--or learning lessons--or staying at home, are very often advised, but never playing--or having a holiday--or amusing ourselves!" "you know, laura! that harry's little shetland pony, tom thumb, in my field, is of no use at present, but kicks, and capers, and runs about all day; yet presently he will be led out fastened to a rope, and made to trot round and round in a circle, day after day, till he has no longer a will of his own,--that is education. afterwards he shall have a bridle put in his mouth, which some little girls would be much the better of also, when he shall be carefully guided ever afterwards in the best ways; and you likewise will go much more steadily for all the reining-in and whipping you have got from mrs. crabtree and me, which may, perhaps, make you keep in the road of duty more easily hereafter." "uncle david!" said harry, laughing, "we have read in the arabian nights, about people being turned into animals, but i never thought you would turn laura into a horse! what shall we do with my little shetland pony if i go away next week?" "i have thought of a capital plan for making tom thumb useful during the whole winter! your grandmama wants a watch-dog in the country, so we shall build him a kennel--put a chain round his neck, and get some one to teach him to bark." "uncle david should be professor of nonsense at the university," said lady harriet, smiling. "but, my dear children, if you are allowed to pay this visit at holiday house, i hope you will endeavour to behave creditably?" "yes," added major graham, "i understand that lord rockville wished to have some particularly quiet children there, for a short time, so he fixed upon harry and laura! poor, mistaken lord rockville! but, my good friends, try not to break all his china ornaments the first day--spare a few jars and tea-cups--leave a pane of glass or two in the windows, and throw none of your marbles at the mirrors." "i remember hearing," said lady harriet, "that when miss pelham was married last year, her old aunt, mrs. bouverie, sent for her and said, that as she could not afford to give baubles or trinkets, she would give her a very valuable piece of advice; and what do you think it was, laura?" "i have no idea! do tell me." "then i shall bestow it on you, as the old lady did on her niece--'be careful of china, paper and string, for they are all very transitory possessions in this world!'" "very true! and most judicious!" observed major graham, laughing. "i certainly know several persons who must have served an apprenticeship under that good lady. many gentlemen now, who despatch all their epistles from the club, because there the paper costs them nothing, and a number of ladies, who, for the same good reason, never write letters till they are visiting in a country house." having received so many warnings and injunctions about behaving well, harry and laura became so quiet during the first few days at holiday house, that they were like shadows flitting through the rooms, going almost on tiptoe, scarcely speaking above a whisper, and observing that valuable rule for children, to let themselves be seen, but not heard. lord rockville was quite charmed with such extreme good conduct, for they were both in especial awe of him, and thought it a great condescension if he even looked at them, he was so tall, so grand, and so grave, wearing a large powdered wig and silver spectacles, which gave him a particularly venerable appearance, though harry was one day very near getting into disgrace upon that subject. his lordship had a habit of always carrying two pairs of spectacles in his pocket, and often, after thrusting one pair high on his forehead, he forgot where they were, and put the others on his nose, which had such a droll appearance, that the first time harry saw it, he felt quite taken by surprise, and burst into a fit of laughter, upon which lord rockville gave him such a comical look of surprise and perplexity, that harry's fit of laughing got worse and worse. the more people know they are wrong, and try to stop, the more convulsive it becomes, and the more difficult to look grave again, so at last, after repeated efforts to appear serious and composed, harry started up, and in his hurry to escape, very nearly slammed the door behind him, which would have given the last finish to his offences. both the little visitors found lady rockville so extremely indulgent and kind, that she seemed like another grandmama, therefore they gradually ventured to talk some of their own nonsense before her, and even to try some of their old ways, and frolicsome tricks, which she seldom found any fault with, except when harry one day eloped with lord rockville's favourite walking-stick, to be used as a fishing-rod among the minnows, with a long thread at the end for a line, and a crooked pin to represent the hook, while, on the same day, laura privately mounted the ass that gave lord rockville's ass's milk, and rode it all round the park, while he sat at home expecting his usual refreshing tumbler. still they both passed muster for being very tolerable children, and his lordship was heard once to say, in a voice of great approbation, that master and miss graham were so punctual at dinner, and so perfectly quiet, he really often forgot they were in the house. indeed, harry's complaisance on the day after he had laughed so injudiciously about the spectacles, was quite unheard of, as he felt anxious to make up for his misconduct; and when lord rockville asked if he would like a fire in the play-room, as the evening was chilly, he answered very politely, "thank you, my lord! we are ready to think it hot or cold, just as you please!" all this was too good to last! one morning, when harry and laura looked out of the window, it was a most deplorably wet day. the whole sky looked like a large grey cotton umbrella, and the clouds were so low that harry thought he could almost have touched them. in short, as lord rockville remarked, "it rained cats and dogs," so his lordship knitted his brows, and thrust his hands into his waistcoat pockets, walking up and down the room in a perfect fume of vexation, for he was so accustomed to be obeyed, that it seemed rather a hardship when even the weather contradicted his wishes. to complete his vexation, as "single misfortunes never come alone," his valet, when carelessly drying the morning post at a large kitchen fire, had set it in flames, so that all the wonderful news it contained became reduced to ashes, therefore lord rockville might well have given notice, that, for this day at least, he had a right to be in extremely bad humour. lady rockville privately recommended harry and laura to sit quietly down and play at cat's cradle, which accordingly they did, and when that became no longer endurable, some dominos were produced. thus the morning wore tediously away till about two o'clock, when suddenly the rain stopped, the sun burst forth with prodigious splendour, every leaf in the park glittered, as if it had been sprinkled with diamonds, and a hundred birds seemed singing a chorus of joy, while bees and butterflies fluttered at the windows and flew away rejoicing. harry was the first to observe this delightful change, and with an exclamation of delight, he sprang from his seat, pulled laura from hers, upset the domino-table, and rushed out of the room, slamming the door with a report like twenty cannons. away they both flew to the forest, laura swinging her bonnet in her hand, and harry tossing his cap in the air, while lord rockville watched them angrily from the drawing-room window, saying, in a tone of extreme displeasure, "that boy has a voice that might do for the town-crier! he laughs so loud, it is enough to crack every glass in the room! i wish he were condemned to pass a week in those american prisons where no one is allowed to speak. in short, he would be better anywhere than here, for i might as well live with a hammer and tongs, as with the two children together. they are more restless than the quicksilver figures from china, and i wish they were as quiet, but my only comfort is, that at any rate they come home punctually to dinner at five. nothing is so intolerable as people dropping in too late and disordering the table." meantime, the woods at holiday house rung with sounds of mirth and gaiety, while harry scrambled up the trees like a squirrel, and swung upon the branches, gathering walnuts and crab-apples for laura, after which they both cut their names upon the bark of lord rockville's favourite beech, so that every person who passed that way must observe the large distinct letters. they were laughing and chatting over this exploit, both talking at once, as noisy and happy as possible, and expecting nothing particular to happen, when, all on a sudden, laura turned pale, and grasped hold of harry's arm, saying, in a low frightened voice, "hush, harry!--hush!--i hear a very strange noise. it sounds like some wild beast! what can that be?" harry listened as if he had ten pair of ears, and nearly cracked his eye-balls staring round him, to see what could be the matter. a curious deep growling sound might be heard at some distance, while there was the noise of something trampling heavily on the ground, and of branches breaking off the trees, as if some large creature was forcing his way through. harry and laura now stood like a couple of little statues, not daring to breathe, they felt so terrified! the noise grew louder and louder, while it gradually came nearer and nearer, till at length a large black bull burst into view, with his tail standing high in the air, while he tore up the ground with his horns, bellowing as loudly as he could roar, and galloping straight towards the place where they stood. laura's knees tottered under her, and she instantly dropped on the ground with terror, feeling as if she would die the next minute of fright, while, as for attempting to escape, it never entered her head to think that possible. harry felt quite differently, for he was a bold boy, not easily scared out of his senses, and instantly saw that something must be done, or they would both be lost. many selfish people would have run away alone, without caring for the safety of any one but themselves, which was not at all the case with harry, who thought first of his poor frightened companion. "hollo, laura! are you hiding in a cart rut?" he exclaimed, pulling her hastily off the ground. "the bull will soon find you there! come! come! as fast as possible! we must have a race for it yet! that terrible beast can scarcely make his way through the trees and branches, they grow so closely! perhaps we may get on as fast as he!" all this time, harry was dragging laura along, and running himself into the thickest part of the plantation; but it was very difficult to make any progress, as she had become quite faint and bewildered with fright. "oh, harry!" cried she, trembling all over, "you must get on alone! i am so weak with terror, it is impossible to run a step farther." "do not waste your breath with talking," answered harry, still pushing on at full speed. "how can you suppose i would be so shabby as to make my escape without you! no! no! we must either both be caught, or both get off!" laura felt so grateful to harry when he said this, that she seemed for a moment almost to forget the bull, which was still coming furiously on behind, while she now made a desperate exertion to run faster than she had been able to do before, clearing the ground almost as rapidly as harry could have done, though he still held her firmly by the hand, to encourage her. the trampling noise continued, the breaking of branches, and the frightful bellowing of this dreadful animal, when at last harry caught sight of a wooden paling, which he silently pointed out to laura, being quite unable now to speak. having rushed forward to it, with almost frantic haste, harry threw himself over the top, after which he helped laura to squeeze herself through underneath, when they proceeded rather more leisurely onwards. "that fence will puzzle mr. bull," said harry triumphantly, yet gasping for breath. "we can push through places where his great hoof could scarcely be thrust! i saw him coming along, with his heels high in the air, and his head down, like an enormous wheel-barrow." scarcely had harry spoken, before the infuriated animal advanced at full gallop towards the fence, and after running along the side a little way, he suddenly tore up the paling with his horns, as if it had been made of paper, and rushed forward more rapidly than ever. harry now began to fear that indeed all was over, for his strength had become nearly exhausted, when, to his great joy, he espied a large, rough stone wall, not very far off, which was as welcome a sight as land to a shipwrecked sailor. "run for your life, laura!" he cried, pointing it out, to encourage her. "there is safety, if we reach it." on they both flew, faster than the wind, and harry having scrambled up the wall, like a grasshopper, pulled laura up beside him, and there they both stood at last, encamped quite beyond the reach of danger, though the enemy arrived a few minutes afterwards, pawing the air, and foaming and bellowing with disappointment. "laura!" said harry, after she had a little recovered from her fright, and was walking slowly homewards, while she cast an alarmed glance frequently behind, thinking she still heard the bull in pursuit, "you see, as uncle david says, whatever danger people are in, it is foolish to be quite in despair, but we should rather think what it is best to do, and do it directly." "yes, harry! and i shall never forget that you would not forsake me, but risked your own life, like a brave brother, in my defence. i should like to do as much for you another time!" "thank you, laura, as much as if you had, but i hope we shall never be in such a scrape again! if frank were here, he would put us both in mind to thank a merciful god for taking so much care of us, and bringing us safely home!" "yes, harry! it is perhaps a good thing being in danger sometimes, to remind us that we cannot be safe or happy an hour without god's care, so in our prayers to-night we must remember what has happened, and return thanks very particularly." it was long past five before harry and laura reached holiday house, where lord rockville met them at the drawing-room door, looking taller, and grander, and graver than ever, while lady rockville rose from her sofa, and came up to them, saying, in a tone of gentle reproach, "my dear children! you ought to return home before the dinner hour, and not keep his lordship waiting!" the very idea of lord rockville waiting dinner was too dreadful ever to have entered their heads till this minute; but harry and laura immediately explained how exceedingly sorry they were for what had occurred, and to show that it was their misfortune rather than their fault, they told the whole frightful story of the mad bull, to which lady rockville listened, as if her very hair were standing upon end, to hear of such doings. she even turned up her eyes with astonishment to think what a wonderful escape they had made; but his lordship frowned through his spectacles, and leaned his chin upon his stick, looking, as harry thought, very like a bear upon a pole. "pshaw!--nonsense!" exclaimed lord rockville impatiently. "the bull would have done you no harm! he is a most respectable, quiet, well-disposed animal, and brought an excellent character from his last place! i never heard a complaint of him before!" "it is curious," observed laura, "that all bulls are reckoned peaceable and tame, till they have tossed two or three people, and killed them!" "i thought," added lord rockville, looking very grand and contemptuous, "that harry was grown more a man than to be so easily put to flight. when a bull, another time, threatens to toss you, seize hold of his tail,--or toss him!--or, in short, do anything rather than run away the first time an animal looks at you. this is a mere cock-and-a-bull story, to excuse your keeping me waiting almost a quarter of an hour for my dinner!--you should be made guard of a mail-coach for a month, to teach you punctuality, master graham." lord rockville gravely looked at his watch, while harry luckily considered how often his grandmama had recommended him to make no answer when he was scolded, so he nearly bit off the tip of his tongue to keep it quiet, while he could not but wish, in his own mind, that my lord himself saw how very fierce the bull had looked. laura felt more vexed on harry's account than her own, and the dinner went on as uncomfortably as possible; for even when a french cook has dressed it, if ill-humour be the sauce, any dish becomes unpalatable. nothing was to be seen reflected on the surface of many fine silver covers, but very cross, or very melancholy faces; while lady rockville tried to make her own countenance look both cheerful and good-natured. she told harry and laura, to divert them, that old mrs. bouverie had once been pursued by a furious milch cow, along a lane, flanked on both sides by such very high walls, that escape seemed impossible, so the good lady, who was fat and breathless, became so desperate, that without a hope of getting off, she seized the enraged animal by the horns, and screamed in its face, till the cow herself became frightened. the creature stared, stepping backwards and backwards, with increasing alarm, till at last, to the old lady's great relief and surprise, she fairly turned her tail and ran off. in the evening, lord rockville had not yet recovered his equanimity, and went out, rather in bad humour, to take his usual walk before supper. without once remembering about harry and the bull, he strolled a great way into the woods, marking several trees to be cut down, and admiring a fine forest which he had planted himself long ago, but without particularly considering what way he turned. it was beginning, at last, to grow very dark and gloomy, so lord rockville had some thoughts of returning home, when he became suddenly startled by hearing a loud roar not far off, and a moment afterwards the furious bull dashed out of a neighbouring thicket, raging and foaming, and tearing the ground with his horns, exactly as harry had described in the morning, while poor lord rockville, who seldom moved faster than a very dignified walk, instantly quickened his pace, in an opposite direction, striding away faster and faster, till at last,--it must be confessed,--his lordship ended by running!!! in spite of all lord rockville's exertions, the bull continued rapidly to gain upon him, for his lordship, being rather corpulent and easily fatigued, stopped every now and then to gasp for breath; till at last, feeling it impossible to get on faster, though the stables were now within sight, he seized the branch of a large oak tree, which swept nearly to the ground, and contrived, with great difficulty, to scramble out of reach. the enraged bull gazed up into the tree and bellowed with fury, when he saw lord rockville so judiciously perched overhead, and he remained for half-an-hour, watching to see if his lordship would venture down again. at last the tormenting animal began leisurely eating grass under the tree, but gradually he moved away, turning his back while he fed, till lord rockville vainly deluded himself with the hope of stealing off unobserved. being somewhat rested and refreshed, while the enemy was looking in another direction, he descended cautiously, as if he had been going to tread upon needles and pins; but, unaccustomed to such movements, he jumped so heavily upon the ground, that the bull hearing a noise, turned round, and set up a loud furious roar, when he saw his intended victim again within reach. now the race began once more with redoubled agility! the odds seemed greatly in favour of the bull, and lord rockville thought he already felt the animal's horns in his side, when a groom, who saw the party approaching, instantly seized a pitchfork and flew to the rescue of his master. lord rockville never stopped his career till he reached the stable, and ran up into a loft, from the window of which he gave the alarm and called for more assistance, when several ploughmen and stable-boys assembled, who drove the animal with great difficulty, into a stall, where he continued so ungovernable, that iron chains were put round his neck, and some days afterwards, seeing no one could manage him, lord rockville ordered the bull to be shot, and his carcase turned into beef for the poor of the parish, who all, consequently, rejoiced at his demise; though the meat turned out so tough, that it required their best teeth to eat it with. meantime, on that memorable evening of so many adventures, harry, laura, and lady rockville, wondered often what had become of his lordship, and, at last, when supper appeared at the usual hour, his absence became still more unaccountable! "what can be the matter?" exclaimed lady rockville, anxiously. "this is very odd! his lordship is as punctual as the postman in general! especially for supper; and here is lord rockville's favourite dish of sago and wine, which will become uneatably cold in ten minutes, if he does not return home to enjoy it!" scarcely had she finished speaking, when the door opened and lord rockville walked majestically into the room. there was something so different from usual in his manner and appearance, however, that harry and laura exchanged looks of astonishment; his neckcloth was loose--his face excessively red--and his hand shook, while he breathed so hard, that he might have been heard at the porter's lodge. lady rockville gazed with amazement at all she saw, and then asked what he chose for supper; but when lord rockville tried to speak, the words died on his lips, so he could only point in silence to the sago and wine. "what in all the world has happened to you this evening, my lord?" exclaimed lady rockville, unable to restrain her curiosity a moment longer. "i never saw you in such a way before! your eyes are perfectly blood-shot--your dress strangely disordered--and you seem so hot and so fatigued! tell me!--what is the matter?" "nothing!" answered lord rockville, drawing himself up, while he tried to look grander and graver than ever, though his lordship could not help panting for breath--putting his hands to his sides--and wiping his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief in an agony of fatigue. harry observed all this for some time, as eagerly and intently as a cat watches a bird on a tree. he saw that something extraordinary had occurred, and he began to have hopes that it really was the very thing he wished; because, seeing lord rockville now perfectly safe, he would not have grudged him a pretty considerable fright from his friend the bull. at last, unable any longer to control his impatience, harry started off his chair, gazing so earnestly at lord rockville, that his eyes almost sprung out of their sockets, while he rubbed his hands with ecstacy, saying, "i guess you've seen the bull? oh! i am sure you did! pray tell us if you have? did he run after you,--and did you run away?" lord rockville tried more than he had ever done in his life to look grave, but it would not do. gradually his face relaxed into a smile, till at last he burst into loud peals of laughter, joined most heartily by harry, laura, and lady rockville. nobody recovered any gravity during the rest of that evening, for whenever they tried to think or talk quietly about anything else, harry and laura were sure to burst forth again upon the subject, and even after being safely stowed in their beds for the night, they both laughed themselves to sleep at the idea of lord rockville himself having been obliged, after all, to run away from that "most respectable, quiet, well-disposed animal, "the mad bull!" chapter viii. the broken key. first he moved his right leg, then he moved his left leg, then he said, "i pardon beg," and sat upon his seat. "oh! uncle david! uncle david!" cried laura, when they arrived from holiday house, "i would jump out of the carriage window with joy to see you again; only the persons passing in the street might be surprised!" "not at all! they are quite accustomed to see people jumping out of the windows with joy, whenever i appear." "we have so much to tell you," exclaimed harry and laura, each seizing hold of a hand, "we hardly know where to begin!" "ladies and gentlemen! if you both talk at once, i must get a new pair of ears! so you have not been particularly miserable at holiday house?" "no! no! uncle david! we did not think there had been so much happiness in the world," answered laura, eagerly. "the last two days we could do nothing but play and laugh, and"---"and grow fat! why! you both look so well fed, you are just fit for killing! i shall be obliged to shut you up two or three days, without anything to eat, as is done to pet lap-dogs, when they are getting corpulent and gouty." "then we shall be like bears living on our paws," replied harry, "and uncle david! i would rather do that, than be a glutton like peter grey. he went to a cheap shop lately, where old cheese-cakes were sold at half-price, and greedily devoured nearly a dozen, thinking that the dead flies scattered on the top were currants, till frank shewed him his mistake!" "frank should have let him eat in peace! there is no accounting for tastes. i once knew a lady who liked to swallow spiders! she used to crack and eat them with the greatest delight, whenever she could catch one." "oh! what a horrid woman! that is even worse than grandmama's story about dr. manvers having dined on a dish of mice, fried in crumbs of bread!" "you know the old proverb, harry, 'one man's meat is another man's poison.' the persians are disgusted at our eating lobsters; and the hindoos think us scarcely fit to exist, because we live on beef; while we are equally amazed at the chinese for devouring dog pies, and birds'-nest soup. you turn up your nose at the french for liking frogs; and they think us ten times worse with our singed sheep's head, oat cakes, and haggis." "that reminds me," said lady harriet, "that when charles x. lived in what he called the 'dear canongate,' his majesty was heard to say, that he tried every sort of scotch goose, 'the solan goose, the wild goose, and the tame goose; but the best goose of all, was the hag-goose.'" "very polite, indeed, to adopt our national taste so completely," observed uncle david, smiling. "when my regiment was quartered in spain, an officer of ours, a great epicure, and not quite so complaisant, used to say that the country was scarcely fit to live in, because there it is customary to dress almost every dish with sugar. at last, one day, in a rage, he ordered eggs to be brought up in their shells for dinner, saying, 'that is the only thing the cook cannot possibly spoil.' we played him a trick, however, which was very like what you would have done, harry, on a similar occasion. i secretly put pounded sugar into the salt-cellar, and when he tasted his first mouthful, you should have seen the look of fury with which he sprung off his seat, exclaiming, 'the barbarians eat sugar even with their eggs!'" "that would be the country for me to travel in," said harry. "i could live in a barrel of sugar; and my little pony, tom thumb, would be happy to accompany me there, as he likes anything sweet." "all animals are of the same opinion. i remember the famous rider, ducrow, telling a brother-officer of mine, that the way in which he gains so much influence over his horses, is merely by bribing them with sugar. they may be managed in that way like children, and are quite aware, if it be taken from them as a punishment for being restive." "oh! those beautiful horses at ducrow's! how often i think of them since we were there!" exclaimed harry. "they were quite like fairies, with fine arched necks, and long tails!" "i never heard before of a fairy with a long tail, master harry; but perhaps in the course of your travels you may have seen such a thing." "how i should like to ride upon tom thumb, in ducrow's way, with my toe on the saddle!" "fine doings indeed!" exclaimed mrs. crabtree, who had entered the room at this moment. "have you forgotten already, master harry, how many of the nursery plates you broke one day when i was out, in trying to copy that there foolish indian juggler, who tossed his plates in the air, and twirled them on his thumb! there must be no more such nonsense; for if once your neck is broke by a fall off tom thumb, no doctor that i know of can mend it again. remember what a terrible tumble you had off jessy last year!" "you are always speaking about that little overturn, mrs. crabtree; and it was not worth recollecting above a week! did you never see a man thrown off his horse before?" "a man and horse indeed!" said uncle david, laughing, when he looked at harry. "you and your charger were hardly large enough then for a toy-shop; and you must grow a little more, captain gulliver, before you will be fit for a dragoon regiment." harry and laura stayed very quietly at home for several weeks after their return from holiday house, attending so busily to lessons, that uncle david said he felt much afraid they were going to be a pair of little wonders, who would die of too much learning. "you will be taken ill of the multiplication table some day, and confined to bed with a violent fit of geography! pray take care of yourselves, and do not devour above three books at once," said major graham one day, entering the room with a note in his hand. "here is an invitation that i suppose you are both too busy to accept, so perhaps i might as well send an apology; eh, harry?" down dropped the lesson-books upon the floor, and up sprung harry in an ecstacy of delight. "an invitation! oh! i like an invitation so very much! pray tell us all about it!" "perhaps it is an invitation to spend a month with dr. lexicon. what would you say to that? they breakfast upon latin grammars at school, and have a dish of real french verbs, smothered in onions, for dinner every day." "but in downright earnest, uncle david! where are we going?" "must i tell you? well! that good-natured old lady, mrs. darwin, intends taking a large party of children next week, in her own carriage, to pass ten days at ivy lodge, a charming country house about twenty miles off, where you are all to enjoy perfect happiness. i wish i could be ground down into a little boy myself, for the occasion! poor good woman! what a life she will lead! there is only one little drawback to your delight, that i am almost afraid to announce." "what is that, uncle david?" asked harry, looking as if nothing in nature could ever make him grave again. "are we to bite off our own noses before we return?" "not exactly; but somebody is to be of the party who will do it for you. mrs. darwin has heard that there are certain children who become occasionally rather unmanageable! i cannot think who they can be, for it is certainly nobody we ever saw; so she has requested that mrs. crabtree will follow in the mail-coach." harry and laura looked as if a glass of cold water had been thrown in their faces, after this was mentioned; but they soon forgot every little vexation, in a burst of joy, when, some days afterwards, mrs. darwin stopped at the door to pick them up, in the most curious-looking carriage they had ever seen. it was a very large open car, as round as a bird's nest, and so perfectly crowded with children, that nobody could have supposed any room left even for a doll; but mrs. darwin said that whatever number of people came in, there was always accommodation for one more; and this really proved to be the case, for harry and laura soon elbowed their way into seats and set off, waving their handkerchiefs to major graham, who had helped to pack them in, and who now stood smiling at the door. as this very large vehicle was drawn by only one horse, it proceeded very slowly; but mrs. darwin amused the children with several very diverting stories, and gave them a grand luncheon in the carriage; after which, they threw what was left, wrapped up in an old newspaper, to some people breaking stones on the road, feeling quite delighted to see the surprise and joy of the poor labourers when they opened the parcel. in short, everybody became sorry when this diverting journey was finished, and they drove up, at last, to the gate of a tall old house, that looked as if it had been built in the year one. the walls were very thick, and quite mouldy with age. indeed, the only wonder was, that ivy lodge had still a roof upon its head, for every thing about it looked so tottering and decayed. the very servants were all old; and a white-headed butler opened the door, who looked as frail and gloomy as the house; but before long, the old walls of ivy lodge rung and echoed again with sounds of mirth and joy. it seemed to have been built on purpose for hide and seek; there were rooms with invisible doors, and closets cut in the walls, and great old chests where people might have been buried alive for a year, without being found out. the gardens, too, were perfectly enchanting. such arbours to take strawberries and cream in! and such summer-houses, where they drank tea out of doors every evening! here they saw a prodigious eagle, fastened to the ground by a chain, and looking the most dull, melancholy creature in the world; while harry wished the poor bird might be liberated, and thought how delightful it would be to stand by and see him soaring away to his native skies. "yes! with a large slice of raw meat in his beak!" said peter grey, who was always thinking of eating. "i dare say he lives much better here, than he would do killing his own mutton up in the clouds there, or taking his chance of a dead horse on the sea-shore occasionally." harry and peter were particularly amused with mrs. darwin's curious collection of pets. there were black swans with red bills, swimming gracefully in a pond close to the window, and ready to rush forward on the shortest notice, for a morsel of bread. the lop-eared rabbits also surprised them, with their ears hanging down to the ground, and they were interested to see a pair of carrier-pigeons which could carry letters as well as the postman. mrs. darwin showed them tumbler pigeons too, that performed a summerset in the air when they flew, and horsemen and dragoon pigeons, trumpeters and pouters, till peter grey at last begged to see the pigeons that made the pigeon-pies, and the cow that gave the butter-milk; he was likewise very anxious for leave to bring his fishing-rod into the drawing-room, to try whether he could catch one of the beautiful gold-fish that swam about in a large glass globe, saying he thought it might perhaps be very good to eat at breakfast. mrs. darwin had a pet lamb that she was exceedingly fond of, because it followed her everywhere, and harry, who was very fond of the little creature, said he wished some plan could be invented to hinder its ever growing into a great fat vulgar sheep; and he thought the white mice were old animals that had grown grey with years. there were donkies for the children to ride upon, and mrs. darwin had a boat that held the whole party, to sail in, round the pond, and she hung up a swing that seemed to fly about as high as the house, which they swung upon, after which they were allowed to shake the fruit-trees, and to eat whatever came down about their ears; so it very often rained apples and pears in the gardens at ivy lodge, for peter seemed never to tire of that joke; indeed the apple-trees had a sad life of it as long as he remained. peter told mrs. darwin that he had "a patent appetite," which was always ready on every occasion; but the good lady became so fond of stuffing the children at all hours, that even he felt a little puzzled sometimes how to dispose of all she heaped upon his plate, while both harry and laura, who were far from greedy, became perfectly wearied of hearing the gong. the whole party assembled at eight every morning, to partake of porridge and butter-milk, after which, at ten, they breakfasted with mrs. darwin on tea, muffins, and sweetmeats. they then drove in the round open car, to bathe in the sea, on their return from which, luncheon was always ready, and after concluding that, they might pass the interval till dinner among the fruit-trees. they never could eat enough to please mrs. darwin at dinner; tea followed, on a most substantial plan; their supper consisted of poached eggs, and the maid was desired to put a biscuit under every visitor's pillow, in case the young people should be hungry in the night, for mrs. darwin said she had been starved at school herself, when she was a little girl, and wished nobody ever to suffer, as she had done, from hunger. the good lady was so anxious for everything to be exactly as the children liked it, that sometimes laura felt quite at a loss what to say or do. one day, having cracked her egg-shell at breakfast, mrs. darwin peeped anxiously over her shoulder, saying, "i hope, my dear! your egg is all right?" "most excellent indeed!" "is it quite fresh?" "perfectly! i dare say it was laid only a minute before it was boiled!" "i have seen the eggs much larger than that." "yes! but then i believe they are rather coarse,--at least we think so, when mrs. crabtree gives us a turkey egg at dinner." "if you prefer them small, perhaps you would like a guinea-fowl's egg?" "thank you! but this one is just as i like them." "it looks rather over-done! if you think so, we could get another in a minute!" "no! they are better well boiled!" "then probably it is not enough done. some people like them quite hard, and i could easily pop it into the slop-basin for another minute." "i am really obliged to you, but it could not be improved." "do you not take any more salt with your egg?" "no, i thank you!" "a few more grains would improve it!" "if you say so, i dare say they will." "ah! now i am afraid you have put in too much! pray do get another!" this long-continued attack upon her egg was too much for laura's gravity, who appeared for some minutes to have a violent fit of coughing, and ending in a burst of laughter, after which she hastily finished all that remained of it, and thus ended the discussion. in the midst of all their happiness, while the children thought that every succeeding day had no fault but being too short, and harry even planned with peter to stop the clock altogether, and see whether time itself would not stand still, nobody ever thought for a moment of anything but joy; and yet a very sad and sudden distress awaited mrs. darwin. one forenoon she received a letter that seemed very hastily and awkwardly folded,--the seal was all to one side, and surrounded with stray drops of red wax,--the direction appeared sadly blotted, and at the top was written in large letters, the words, "to be delivered immediately." when mrs. darwin hurriedly tore open this very strange-looking letter, she found that it came from her own housekeeper in town, to announce the dreadful event that her sister, lady barnet, had been that day seized with an apoplectic fit, and was thought to be at the point of death, therefore it was hoped that mrs. darwin would not lose an hour in returning to town, that she might be present on the melancholy occasion. the shock of hearing this news was so very great, that poor mrs. darwin could not speak about it, but after trying to compose herself for a few minutes, she went into the play-room, and told the children that, for reasons she could not explain, they must get ready to return home in an hour, when the car would be at the door for their journey. nothing could exceed their surprise on hearing mrs. darwin make such an unexpected proposal. at first peter grey thought she was speaking in jest, and said he would prefer if she ordered out a balloon to travel in, this morning; but when it appeared that mrs. darwin was really in earnest about their pleasant visit being over so soon, harry's face grew perfectly red with passion, while he said in a loud angry voice, "grandmama allowed me to stay here till friday!--and i was invited to stay,--and i will not go anywhere else!" "oh fie, master harry!" said mrs. crabtree. "do not talk so! you ought to know better! i shall soon teach you, however, to do as you are bid!" saying these words, she stretched out her hand to seize violent hold of him, but harry dipped down and escaped. quickly opening the door, he ran, half in joke and half in earnest, at full speed up two pairs of stairs, followed closely by mrs. crabtree, who was now in a terrible rage, especially when she saw what a piece of fun harry thought this fatiguing race. a door happened to be standing wide open on the second landing-place, which, having been observed by harry, he darted in, and slammed it in mrs. crabtree's face, locking and double-locking it, to secure his own safety, after which he sat down in this empty apartment to enjoy his victory in peace. when people once begin to grow self-willed and rebellious, it is impossible to guess where it will all end! harry might have been easily led to do right at first, if any one had reasoned with him and spoken kindly, but now he really was in a sort of don't-care-a-button humour, and scarcely minded what he did next. as long as mrs. crabtree continued to scold and rave behind the door, harry grew harder and harder; but at length the good old lady, mrs. darwin herself, arrived up stairs, and represented how ungrateful he was, not doing all in his power to please her, when she had taken so much pains to make him happy. this brought the little rebel round in a moment, as he became quite sensible of his own misconduct, and resolved immediately to submit. accordingly, harry tried to open the door, but, what is very easily done cannot sometimes be undone, which turned out the case on this occasion, as, with all his exertions, the key would not turn in the lock! harry tried it first one way, then another. he twisted with his whole strength, till his face became perfectly scarlet with the effort, but in vain! at last he put the poker through the handle of the key, thinking this a very clever plan, and quite sure to succeed, but after a desperate struggle, the unfortunate key broke in two, so then nobody could possibly open the door! after this provoking accident happened, harry felt what a very bad boy he had been, so he burst into tears, and called through the key-hole to beg mrs. darwin's pardon, while mrs. crabtree scolded him through the key-hole in return, till harry shrunk away as if a cannonading had begun at his ear. meantime, mrs. darwin hurried off, racking her brains to think what had best be done to deliver the prisoner, since no time could be lost, or she might perhaps not get to town at all that night, and the car was expected every minute, to come round for the travellers. the gardener said he thought it might be possible to find a few ladders, which, being tied one above another, would perhaps reach as high as the window, where harry had now appeared, and by which he could easily scramble down; so the servants made haste to fetch all they could find, and to borrow all they could see, till a great many were collected. these they joined together very strongly with ropes, but when it was at last reared against the wall, to the great disappointment of mrs. darwin, the ladder appeared a yard and a-half too short! what was to be done? the obliging gardener mounted to the very top of his ladder, and harry leaned so far over the window, he seemed in danger of falling out, but still they did not reach one another, so not a single person could guess what plan was to be tried next. at length harry called out very loudly to the gardener, "hollo! mr. king of spades! if i were to let myself drop very gently down from the window, could you catch me in your arms?" "mr. harry! mr. harry! if you dare!" cried mrs. crabtree, shaking her fist at him. "you'll be broken in pieces like a tea-pot, you'll be made as flat as a pancake! stay where you are! do ye hear!" but harry seemed suddenly grown deaf, and was now more than half out--fixing his fingers very firmly on the ledge of the window, and slowly dropping his legs downwards. "oh harry! you will be killed!" screamed laura. "stop! stop! harry, are you mad? can nobody stop him?" but nobody could stop him, for, being so high above everybody's head, harry had it all his own way, and was now nearly hanging altogether out of the window, but he stopped a single minute, and called out, "do not be frightened, laura! i have behaved very ill, and deserve the worst that can happen. if i do break my head, it will save mrs. crabtree the trouble of breaking it for me, after i come down." the gardener now balanced himself steadily on the upper step of the ladder, and spread his arms out, while harry slowly let himself drop. laura tried to look on without screaming out, as that might have startled him, but the scene became too frightful, so she closed her eyes, put her hands over her face and turned away, while her heart beat so violently, that it might almost have been heard. even mrs. crabtree clasped her hands in an agony of alarm, while mrs. darwin put up her pocket handkerchief, and could not look on another moment. an awful pause took place, during which, a feather falling on the ground would have startled them, when suddenly a loud shout from peter grey and the other children, which was gaily echoed from the top of the ladder, made laura venture to look up, and there was harry safe in the gardener's arms, who soon helped him down to the ground, where he immediately asked pardon of everybody for the fright he had given them. there was no time for more than half a scold from mrs. crabtree, as mrs. darwin's car had been waiting some time; so harry said she might be owing him the rest, on some future occasion. "yes! and a hundred lashes besides!" added peter grey, laughing. "pray touch him up well, mrs. crabtree, when you are about it. there is no law against cruelty to boys!" this put mrs. crabtree into such a rage, that she followed peter with a perfect hail-storm of angry words, till at last, for a joke, he put up mrs. darwin's umbrella to screen himself, and immediately afterwards the car drove slowly off. when uncle david heard all the adventures at ivy lodge, he listened most attentively to "the confessions of master harry graham," and shook his head in a most serious manner after they were concluded, saying, "i have always thought that boys are like cats, with nine lives at least! you should be hung up in a basket, harry, as they do with unruly boys in the south sea islands, where such young gentlemen as you are left dangling in the air for days together without a possibility of escape!" "i would not care for that compared with being teazed and worried by mrs. crabtree. i really wish, uncle david, that dr. bell would order me never to be scolded any more! it is very bad for me! i generally feel an odd sort of over-all-ish-ness as soon as she begins; and i am getting too big now, for any thing but a birch-rod like frank. how pleasant it is to be a grown-up man, uncle david, as you are, sitting all day at the club with your hat on your head, and nothing to do but look out of the window. that is what i call happiness!" "but once upon a time, harry," said lady harriet, "when i stopped in the carriage for your uncle david at the club, he was in the middle of such a yawn at the window, that he very nearly dislocated his jaw! it was quite alarming to see him, and he told me in a great secret, that the longest and most tiresome hours of his life are, when he has nothing particular to do." "now, at this moment, i have nothing particular to do," said major graham, "therefore i shall tell you a wonderful story, children, about liking to be idle or busy, and you must find out the moral for yourselves." "a story! a story!" cried harry and laura, in an ecstacy of delight, and as they each had a knee of uncle david's, which belonged to themselves, they scrambled into their places, exclaiming, "now let it be all about very bad boys, and giants, and fairies!" chapter ix. uncle david's nonsensical story about giants and fairies. "pie-crust and pastry-crust, that was the wall; the windows were made of black-puddings and white, and slated with pancakes--you ne'er saw the like!" in the days of yore, children were not all such clever, good sensible people as they are now! lessons were then considered rather a plague, sugar-plums were still in demand--holidays continued yet in fashion--and toys were not then made to teach mathematics, nor story-books to give instruction in chemistry and navigation. these were very strange times, and there existed at that period, a very idle, greedy, naughty boy, such as we never hear of in the present day. his papa and mama were----no matter who,----and he lived, no matter where. his name was master no-book, and he seemed to think his eyes were made for nothing but to stare out of the windows, and his mouth for no other purpose but to eat. this young gentleman hated lessons like mustard, both of which brought tears into his eyes, and during school-hours, he sat gazing at his books, pretending to be busy, while his mind wandered away to wish impatiently for his dinner, and to consider where he could get the nicest pies, pastry, ices, and jellies, while he smacked his lips at the very thoughts of them. i think he must have been first cousin to peter grey, but that is not perfectly certain. whenever master no-book spoke, it was always to ask for something, and you might continually hear him say, in a whining tone of voice, "papa! may i take this piece of cake? aunt sarah! will you give me an apple? mama! do send me the whole of that plum-pudding!" indeed, very frequently when he did not get permission to gormandize, this naughty glutton helped himself without leave. even his dreams were like his waking hours, for he had often a horrible night-mare about lessons, thinking that he was smothered with greek lexicons, or pelted out of the school with a shower of english grammars, while one night, he fancied himself sitting down to devour an enormous plum-cake, and that all on a sudden it became transformed into a latin dictionary! one afternoon, master no-book, having played truant all day from school, was lolling on his mama's best sofa in the drawing-room, with his leather boots tucked up on the satin cushions, and nothing to do but to suck a few oranges, and nothing to think of but how much sugar to put upon them, when suddenly an event took place which filled him with astonishment. a sound of soft music stole into the room, becoming louder and louder the longer he listened, till at length, in a few moments afterwards, a large hole burst open in the wall of his room, and there stepped into his presence, two magnificent fairies, just arrived from their castle in the air, to pay him a visit. they had travelled all the way on purpose to have some conversation with master no-book, and immediately introduced themselves in a very ceremonious manner. the fairy do-nothing was gorgeously dressed with a wreath of flaming gas round her head, a robe of gold tissue, a necklace of rubies, and a bouquet in her hand, of glittering diamonds. her cheeks were rouged to the very eyes,--her teeth were set in gold, and her hair was of a most brilliant purple; in short, so fine and fashionable looking a fairy never was seen in a drawing-room before. the fairy teach-all, who followed next, was simply dressed in white muslin, with bunches of natural flowers in her light brown hair, and she carried in her hand a few neat small books, which master no-book looked at with a shudder of aversion. the two fairies now informed him, that they very often invited large parties of children, to spend some time at their palaces, but as they lived in quite an opposite direction, it was necessary for their young guests to choose which it would be best to visit first; therefore now they had come to inquire of master no-book, whom he thought it would be most agreeable to accompany on the present occasion. "in my house," said the fairy teach-all, speaking with a very sweet smile, and a soft, pleasing voice, "you shall be taught to find pleasure in every sort of exertion, for i delight in activity and diligence. my young friends rise at seven every morning, and amuse themselves with working in a beautiful garden of flowers,--rearing whatever fruit they wish to eat,--visiting among the poor,--associating pleasantly together,--studying the arts and sciences,--and learning to know the world in which they live, and to fulfil the purposes for which they have been brought into it. in short, all our amusements tend to some useful object, either for our own improvement or the good of others, and you will grow wiser, better, and happier every day you remain in the palace of knowledge." "but in castle needless where i live," interrupted the fairy do-nothing, rudely pushing her companion aside, with an angry contemptuous look, "we never think of exerting ourselves for anything. you may put your head in your pocket, and your hands in your sides as long as you choose to stay. no one is ever even asked a question, that he may be spared the trouble of answering. we lead the most fashionable life that can be imagined, for nobody speaks to anybody! each of my visitors is quite an exclusive, and sits with his back to as many of the company as possible, in the most comfortable arm-chair that can be imagined. there, if you are only so good as to take the trouble of wishing for anything, it is yours, without even turning an eye round to look where it comes from. dresses are provided of the most magnificent kind, which go on of themselves, without your having the smallest annoyance with either buttons or strings,--games which you can play without an effort of thought,--and dishes dressed by a french cook, smoking hot and hot under your nose, from morning till night,--while any rain we have, is either made of cherry brandy, lemonade, or lavender water,--and in winter it generally snows iced-punch for an hour during the forenoon." nobody need be told which fairy master no-book preferred; and quite charmed at his own good fortune in receiving so agreeable an invitation, he eagerly gave his hand to the splendid new acquaintance, who promised him so much pleasure and ease, and gladly proceeded, in a carriage lined with velvet, stuffed with downy pillows, and drawn by milk-white swans, to that magnificent residence castle needless, which was lighted by a thousand windows during the day, and by a million of lamps every night. here master no-book enjoyed a constant holiday and a constant feast, while a beautiful lady, covered with jewels, was ready to tell him stories from morning till night, and servants waited to pick up his playthings if they fell, or to draw out his purse or his pocket-handkerchief when he wished to use them. thus master no-book lay dozing for hours and days on rich embroidered cushions, never stirring from his place, but admiring the view of trees covered with the richest burned almonds, grottoes of sugar-candy, a jet d'eau of champagne, a wide sea which tasted of sugar instead of salt, and a bright clear pond, filled with gold-fish, that let themselves be caught whenever he pleased. nothing could be more complete, and yet, very strange to say, master no-book did not seem particularly happy! this appears exceedingly unreasonable, when so much trouble was taken to please him; but the truth is, that every day he became more fretful and peevish. no sweetmeats were worth the trouble of eating, nothing was pleasant to play at, and in the end he wished it were possible to sleep all day, as well as all night. not a hundred miles from the fairy do-nothing's palace, there lived a most cruel monster called the giant snap-'em-up, who looked, when he stood up, like the tall steeple of a great church, raising his head so high, that he could peep over the loftiest mountains, and was obliged to climb up a ladder to comb his own hair. every morning regularly, this prodigiously great giant walked round the world before breakfast for an appetite, after which, he made tea in a large lake, used the sea as a slop-basin, and boiled his kettle on mount vesuvius. he lived in great style, and his dinners were most magnificent, consisting very often of an elephant roasted whole, ostrich patties, a tiger smothered in onions, stewed lions, and whale soup; but for a side-dish his greatest favourite consisted of little boys, as fat as possible, fried in crumbs of bread, with plenty of pepper and salt. no children were so well fed, or in such good condition for eating, as those in the fairy do-nothing's garden, who was a very particular friend of the great snap-'em-up's, and who sometimes laughingly said she would give him a license, and call her own garden his "preserve," because she allowed him to help himself, whenever he pleased, to as many of her visitors as he chose, without taking the trouble even to count them, and in return for such extreme civility, the giant very frequently invited her to dinner. snap-'em-up's favourite sport was, to see how many brace of little boys he could bag in a morning; so in passing along the streets, he peeped into all the drawing-rooms without having occasion to get upon tiptoe, and picked up every young gentleman who was idly looking out of the windows, and even a few occasionally who were playing truant from school, but busy children seemed always somehow quite out of his reach. one day, when master no-book felt even more lazy, more idle, and more miserable than ever, he lay beside a perfect mountain of toys and cakes, wondering what to wish for next, and hating the very sight of everything and everybody. at last he gave so loud a yawn of weariness and disgust, that his jaw very nearly fell out of joint, and then he sighed so deeply, that the giant snap-'em-up heard the sound as he passed along the road after breakfast, and instantly stepped into the garden, with his glass at his eye, to see what was the matter. immediately on observing a large, fat, over-grown boy, as round as a dumpling, lying on a bed of roses, he gave a cry of delight, followed by a gigantic peal of laughter, which was heard three miles off, and picking up master no-book between his finger and his thumb, with a pinch that very nearly broke his ribs, he carried him rapidly towards his own castle, while the fairy do-nothing laughingly shook her head as he passed, saying, "that little man does me great credit!--he has only been fed for a week, and is as fat already as a prize ox! what a dainty morsel he will be! when do you dine to-day, in case i should have time to look in upon you?" on reaching home, the giant immediately hung up master no-book by the hair of his head, on a prodigious hook in the larder, having first taken some large lumps of nasty suet, forcing them down his throat to make him become still fatter, and then stirring the fire, that he might be almost melted with heat, to make his liver grow larger. on a shelf quite near, master no-book perceived the dead bodies of six other boys, whom he remembered to have seen fattening in the fairy do-nothing's garden, while he recollected how some of them had rejoiced at the thoughts of leading a long, useless, idle life, with no one to please but themselves. the enormous cook now seized hold of master no-book, brandishing her knife, with an aspect of horrible determination, intending to kill him, while he took the trouble of screaming and kicking in the most desperate manner, when the giant turned gravely round and said, that as pigs were considered a much greater dainty when whipped to death than killed in any other way, he meant to see whether children might not be improved by it also; therefore she might leave that great hog of a boy till he had time to try the experiment, especially as his own appetite would be improved by the exercise. this was a dreadful prospect for the unhappy prisoner; but meantime it prolonged his life a few hours, as he was immediately hung up again in the larder, and left to himself. there, in torture of mind and body,--like a fish upon a hook,--the wretched boy began at last to reflect seriously upon his former ways, and to consider what a happy home he might have had, if he could only have been satisfied with business and pleasure succeeding each other, like day and night, while lessons might have come in, as a pleasant sauce to his play-hours, and his play-hours as a sauce to his lessons. in the midst of many reflections, which were all very sensible, though rather too late. master no-book's attention became attracted by the sound of many voices laughing, talking, and singing, which caused him to turn his eyes in a new direction, when, for the first time, he observed that the fairy teach-all's garden lay upon a beautiful sloping bank not far off. there a crowd of merry, noisy, rosy-cheeked boys, were busily employed, and seemed happier than the day was long; while poor master no-book watched them during his own miserable hours, envying the enjoyment with which they raked the flower-borders, gathered the fruit, carried baskets of vegetables to the poor, worked with carpenters' tools, drew pictures, shot with bows and arrows, played at cricket, and then sat in the sunny arbours learning their tasks, or talking agreeably together, till at length, a dinner-bell having been rung, the whole party sat merrily down with hearty appetites, and cheerful good-humour, to an entertainment of plain roast meat and pudding, where the fairy teach-all presided herself, and helped her guests moderately, to as much as was good for each. large tears rolled down the cheeks of master no-book while watching this scene; and remembering that if he had known what was best for him, he might have been as happy as the happiest of these excellent boys, instead of suffering ennui and weariness, as he had done at the fairy do-nothing's, ending in a miserable death; but his attention was soon after most alarmingly roused by hearing the giant snap-'em-up again in conversation with his cook, who said, that if he wished for a good large dish of scolloped children at dinner, it would be necessary to catch a few more, as those he had already provided would scarcely be a mouthful. as the giant kept very fashionable hours, and always waited dinner for himself till nine o'clock, there was still plenty of time; so, with a loud grumble about the trouble, he seized a large basket in his hand, and set off at a rapid pace towards the fairy teach-all's garden. it was very seldom that snap-'em-up ventured to think of foraging in this direction, as he had never once succeeded in carrying off a single captive from the enclosure, it was so well fortified and so bravely defended; but on this occasion, being desperately hungry, he felt as bold as a lion, and walked, with outstretched hands, straight towards the fairy teach-all's dinner-table, taking such prodigious strides, that he seemed almost as if he would trample on himself. a cry of consternation arose the instant this tremendous giant appeared; and as usual on such occasions, when he had made the same attempt before, a dreadful battle took place. fifty active little boys bravely flew upon the enemy, armed with their dinner knives, and looked like a nest of hornets, stinging him in every direction, till he roared with pain, and would have run away, but the fairy teach-all, seeing his intention, rushed forward with the carving knife, and brandishing it high over her head, she most courageously stabbed him to the heart! if a great mountain had fallen in the earth, it would have seemed like nothing in comparison of the giant snap-'em-up, who crushed two or three houses to powder beneath him, and upset several fine monuments that were to have made people remembered for ever; but all this would have seemed scarcely worth mentioning, had it not been for a still greater event which occurred on the occasion, no less than the death of the fairy do-nothing, who had been indolently looking on at this great battle, without taking the trouble to interfere, or even to care who was victorious, but, being also lazy about running away, when the giant fell, his sword came with so violent a stroke on her head, that she instantly expired. thus, luckily for the whole world, the fairy teach-all got possession of immense property, which she proceeded without delay to make the best use of in her power. in the first place, however, she lost no time in liberating master no-book from his hook in the larder, and gave him a lecture on activity, moderation, and good conduct, which he never afterwards forgot; and it was astonishing to see the change that took place immediately in his whole thoughts and actions. from this very hour, master no-book became the most diligent, active, happy boy in the fairy teach-all's garden; and on returning home a month afterwards, he astonished all the masters at school by his extraordinary reformation. the most difficult lessons were a pleasure to him,--he scarcely ever stirred without a book in his hand,--never lay on a sofa again,--would scarcely even sit on a chair with a back to it, but preferred a three-legged stool,--detested holidays,--never thought any exertion a trouble,--preferred climbing over the top of a hill to creeping round the bottom,--always ate the plainest food in very small quantities,--joined a temperance society!-and never tasted a morsel till he had worked very hard and got an appetite. not long after this, an old uncle, who had formerly been ashamed of master no-book's indolence and gluttony, became so pleased at the wonderful change, that, on his death, he left him a magnificent estate, desiring that he should take his name; therefore, instead of being any longer one of the no-book family, he is now called sir timothy bluestocking,--a pattern to the whole country round, for the good he does to every one, and especially for his extraordinary activity, appearing as if he could do twenty things at once. though generally very good-natured and agreeable, sir timothy is occasionally observed in a violent passion, laying about him with his walking-stick in the most terrific manner, and beating little boys within an inch of their lives; but on inquiry, it invariably appears that he has found them out to be lazy, idle, or greedy, for all the industrious boys in the parish are sent to get employment from him, while he assures them that they are far happier breaking stones on the road, than if they were sitting idly in a drawing-room with nothing to do. sir timothy cares very little for poetry in general; but the following are his favourite verses, which he has placed over the chimney-piece at a school that he built for the poor, and every scholar is obliged, the very day he begins his education, to learn them:- some people complain they have nothing to do, and time passes slowly away; they saunter about with no object in view, and long for the end of the day. in vain are the trifles and toys they desire, for nothing they truly enjoy; of trifles, and toys, and amusements they tire, for want of some useful employ. although for transgression the ground was accursed, yet gratefully man must allow, 'twas really a blessing which doom'd him at first, to live by the sweat of his brow. nursery rhymes. "thank you, a hundred times over, uncle david!" said harry, when the story was finished. "i shall take care not to be found hanging any day on a hook in the larder! certainly, frank, you must have spent a month with the good fairy; and i hope she will some day invite me to be made a scholar of too, for laura and i still belong to the no-book family." "it is very important. harry, to choose the best course from the beginning," observed lady harriet. "good or bad habits grow stronger and stronger every minute, as if an additional string were tied on daily, to keep us in the road where we walked the day before; so those who mistake the path of duty at first, find hourly increasing difficulty in turning round." "but grandmama!" said frank, "you have put up some finger-posts to direct us right; and whenever i see 'no passage this way,' we shall wheel about directly." "as mrs. crabtree has not tapped at the door yet, i shall describe the progress of a wise and a foolish man, to see which harry and you would prefer copying," replied lady harriet, smiling. "the fool begins, when he is young, with hating lessons, lying long in bed, and spending all his money on trash. any books he will consent to read, are never about what is true or important; but he wastes all his time and thoughts on silly stories that never could have happened. thus he neglects to learn what was done, and thought, by all the great and good men who really lived in former times, while even his bible, if he has one, grows dusty on the shelf. after so bad a beginning, he grows up with no useful or interesting knowledge; therefore his whole talk is to describe his own horses, his own dogs, his own guns, and his own exploits; boasting of what a high wall his horse can leap over, the number of little birds he can shoot in a day, and how many bottles of wine he can swallow without tumbling under the table. thus, 'glorying in his shame,' he thinks himself a most wonderful person, not knowing that men are born to do much better things than merely to find selfish pleasure and amusement for themselves. presently he grows old, gouty, and infirm--no longer able to do such prodigious achievements; therefore now his great delight is, to sit with his feet upon the fender, at a club all day, telling what a famous rider, shooter, and drinker, he was long ago; but nobody cares to hear such old stories; therefore he is called a 'proser,' and every person avoids him. it is no wonder a man talks about himself, if he has never read or thought about any one else. but at length his precious time has all been wasted, and his last hour comes, during which he can have nothing to look back upon but a life of folly and guilt. he sees no one around who loves him, or will weep over his grave; and when he looks forward, it is towards an eternal world which he has never prepared to enter, and of which he knows nothing." "what a terrible picture, grandmama!" said frank, rather gravely. "i hope there are not many people like that, or it would be very sad to meet with them. now pray let us have a pleasanter description of the sort of persons you would like harry and me to become." "the first foundation of all is, as you already know, frank, to pray that you may be put in the right course and kept in it, for of ourselves we are so sinful and weak that we can do no good thing. then feeling a full trust in the divine assistance, you must begin and end every day with studying your bible, not merely reading it, but carefully endeavouring to understand and obey what it contains. our leisure should be bestowed on reading of wiser and better people than ourselves, which will keep us humble while it instructs our understandings, and thus we shall be fitted to associate with persons whose society is even better than books. christians who are enlightened and sanctified in the knowledge of all good things, will show us an example of carefully using our time, which is the most valuable of all earthly possessions. if we waste our money, we may perhaps get more--if we lose our health, it may be restored--but time squandered on folly, must hereafter be answered for, and can never be regained. whatever be your station in life, waste none of your thoughts upon fancying how much better you might have acted in some other person's place, but see what duties belong to that station in which you live, and do what that requires with activity and diligence. when we are called to give an account of our stewardship, let us not have to confess at the last that we wasted our one talent, because we wished to have been trusted with ten; but let us prepare to render up what was given to us, with joy and thankfulness, perfectly satisfied that the best place in life is where god appoints, and where he will guide us to a safe and peaceful end." "yes!" added major graham. "you have two eyes in your minds as well as in your bodies. with one of these we see all that is good or agreeable in our lot--with the other we see all that is unpleasant or disappointing, and you may generally choose which eye to keep open. some of my friends always peevishly look at the troubles and vexations they endure, but they might turn them into good, by considering that every circumstance is sent from the same hand, with the same merciful purpose--to make us better now and happier hereafter." "well! my dear children," said lady harriet, "it is time now for retiring to bedfordshire; so good night." "if you please, grandmama! not yet," asked harry, anxiously. "give us five minutes longer!" "and then in the morning you will want to remain five minutes more in bed. that is the way people learn to keep such dreadfully late hours at last, harry! i knew one very rich old gentleman formerly, who always wished to sit up a little later every night, and to get up a little later in the morning, till at length, he ended by hiring a set of servants to rise at nine in the evening, as he did himself, and to remain in bed all day." "people should regulate their sleep very conscientiously," added major graham, "so as to waste as little time as possible; and our good king george iii. set us the example, for he remarked, that six hours in the night were quite enough for a man--seven hours for a woman, and eight for a fool. or perhaps, harry, you might like to live by sir william jones' rule: 'six hours to read, to soothing slumber seven, ten to the world allot--and all to heaven.'" chapter x. the illumination. a neighbour's house he'd slyly pass, and throw a stone to break the glass. one fine morning in charlotte square, peter grey persuaded a party of his companions to spend all the money they had on cakes and sugar-plums, to make a splendid entertainment under the trees, where they were to sit like a horde of gypsies, and amuse themselves with telling fortunes to each other. harry and laura had no one with them but betty, who gladly joined a group of nursery-maids at a distance, leaving them to their own devices; upon which they rushed up to peter and offered their assistance, subscribing all their pocket-money, and begging him to set forth and obtain provisions for them as well as for himself. neither harry nor laura cared for eating the trash that was collected on this occasion, and would have been quite as well pleased to distribute it among their companions; but they both enjoyed extremely the bustle of arranging this elegant dã©jeunã© or "_disjune_," as peter called it. harry gathered leaves off the trees to represent plates, on each of which peter arranged some of the fruit or sweetmeats he had purchased, while they placed benches together as a table, and borrowed laura's white india shawl for a table-cloth. "it looks like that grand public dinner we saw at the assembly rooms one day!" exclaimed harry, in an ecstacy of admiration. "we must have speeches and toasts like real gentlemen and officers. peter! if you will make a fine oration, full of compliments to me, i shall say something wonderful about you, and then laura must beat upon the table with a stick, to show that she agrees to all that we observe in praise of each other." "or suppose we all take the names of some great personages," added peter, "i shall be the duke of wellington, and laura, you must be joseph hume, and harry, you are sir francis burdett, that we may seem as different as possible; but here comes the usher of the black rod to disperse us all! mrs. crabtree hurrying into the square, her very gown flaming with rage! what can be the matter! she must have smelled the sugar-plums a mile off! one comfort is, if harry and laura are taken away, we shall have the fewer people to divide these cakes among, and i could devour every one of them, for my own share." before peter finished speaking, mrs. crabtree had come close up to the table, and without waiting to utter a word, or even to scold, she twitched up laura's shawl in her hand, and thus scattered the whole feast in every direction on the ground, after which she trampled the sugar-plums and cakes into the earth, saying, "i knew how it would be, as soon as i saw whose company you were in, master harry! peter grey is the father of mischief! he ought to be put into the monkey's cage at the geological gardens! i would not be your maid, master grey, for a hundred a-year." "you would need to buy a thrashing machine immediately," said peter, laughing; "what a fine time i should have of it! you would scarcely allow me, i suppose, to blow my porridge! how long would it take you, mrs. crabtree, to make quite a perfectly good boy of me? perhaps a month, do you think? or to make me as good as frank, it might possibly require six weeks." "six weeks!" answered mrs. crabtree; "six years, or sixty, would be too short. you are no more like mr. frank than a shilling is to a guinea, or a wax light to a dip. if the news were told that you had been a good boy for a single day, the very _statutes_ in the streets would come running along to see the wonder. no! no! i have observed many surprising things in my day, but them great pyramuses in egypt will turn upside down before you turn like mr. frank." some days after this adventure of harry and laura's, there arrived newspapers from london containing accounts of a great battle which had been fought abroad. on that occasion the british troops of course performed prodigies of valour, and completely conquered the enemy, in consequence of which, it was ordered by government, that, in every town, and every village, and every house throughout the whole kingdom, there should be a grand illumination. neither harry nor laura had ever heard of such a thing as an illumination before, and they were full of curiosity to know what it was like; but their very faces became lighted up with joy, when major graham described that they would see crowds of candles flaming in every window, tar-barrels blazing on every hill, flambeaux glaring at the doors, and transparencies, fire-works, and coloured lamps shining in all the streets. "how delightful! and walking out in the dark to see it," cried harry; "that will be best of all! oh! and a whole holiday! i hardly know whether i am in my right wits, or my wrong wits, for joy! i wish we gained a victory every day!" "what a warrior you would be, harry! cã¦sar was nothing to you," said frank. "we might be satisfied with one good battle in a year, considering how many are killed and wounded." "yes, but i hope all the wounded soldiers will recover." "or get pensions," added uncle david. "it is a grand sight, frank, to see a whole nation rejoicing at once! in general, when you walk out and meet fifty persons in the street, they are all thinking of fifty different things, and each intent on some business of his own, but on this occasion all are of one mind and one heart." frank and harry were allowed to nail a dozen of little candlesticks upon each window in the house, which delighted them exceedingly, and then, before every pane of glass, they placed a tall candle, impatiently longing for the time when these were to be illuminated. laura was allowed to carry a match, and assist in lighting them, but in the excess of her joy, she very nearly made a bonfire of herself, as her frock took fire, and would soon have been in a blaze, if frank had not hastily seized a large rug and rolled it round her. in every house within sight, servants and children were to be seen hurrying about with burning matches, while hundreds of lights blazed up in a moment, looking as if all the houses in town had taken fire. "such a waste of candles!" said mrs. crabtree, angrily; "can't people be happy in the dark!" "no, mrs. crabtree!" answered frank, laughing. "they cannot be happy in the dark! people's spirits are always in exact proportion to the number of lights. if you ever feel dull with one candle, light another; and if that does not do, try a third, or a fourth, till you feel merry and cheerful. we must not let you be candle-snuffer to-night, or you will be putting them all out. you would snuff out the sun itself, to save a shilling." "the windows might perhaps be broken," added laura; "for whatever pane of glass does not exhibit a candle, is to have a stone sent through it. harry says the mob are all glaziers, who break them on purpose to mend the damage next day, which they will be paid handsomely for doing." there were many happy, joyous faces, to be seen that evening in the streets, admiring the splendid illumination; but the merriest party of all, was composed of frank, harry, and laura, under the command of uncle david, who had lately suffered from a severe fit of the gout; but it seemed to have left him this night, in honour of the great victory, when he appeared quite as much a boy as either of his two companions. for many hours they walked about in the streets, gazing up at the glittering windows, some of which looked as if a constellation of stars had come down for a night to adorn them; and others were filled with the most beautiful pictures of britannia carrying the world on her shoulders; or mars showering down wreaths of laurel on the duke of wellington, while victory was sitting at his feet, and fame blowing a trumpet at his ear. harry thought these paintings finer than any he had ever seen before, and stood for some moments entranced with admiration, on beholding a representation in red, blue, yellow, and black, of europe, asia, africa, and america, all doing homage to st. george mounted on a dragon, which breathed out fire and smoke like a steam-boat. nothing, however, occasioned the party such a burst of delightful surprise, as when they first beheld the line of blazing windows more than a mile long, from the bottom of the canongate to the highest pinnacle of the castle, where they seemed almost to meet the stars shining above, in their perpetual glory. "you see," remarked major graham, when he pointed them out to his young companions, "there is a fit emblem of the difference between earth and heaven. these lights nearer and brighter to us at present; but when they have blazed and glittered for one little hour, they come to an end; while those above, which we see so dimly now, will continue to shine for ages and generations hereafter, till time itself is no more." occasionally, during their progress, harry felt very indignant to observe a few houses perfectly dark; and whether the family were sick, or out of town, or whatever the reason might be, he scarcely became sorry when a frequent crash might be heard, as the mob, determined to have their own way this night, aimed showers of stones at the offending windows, till the very frames seemed in danger of being broken. at last uncle david led his joyous little party into castle street, in which not a light was to be seen, and every blind seemed carefully closed. a crowd had assembled, with an evident intention to attack these melancholy houses, when major graham suddenly caught hold of harry's arm, on observing that he had privately picked up a large stone, which he was in the very act of throwing with his whole force at one of the defenceless windows. and now the whole party stood stock still, while uncle david said in a very angry and serious voice, "harry! you heedless, mischievous boy! will you never learn to consider a moment before you do what is wrong? i am exceedingly displeased with you for this! what business is it of yours whether that house be lighted up or not?" "but, uncle david! surely it is very wrong not to obey the government, and to be happy like everybody else! besides, you see the mob will break those windows at any rate, so it is no matter if i help them." "then, for the same reason, if they were setting the house on fire, i suppose you would assist the conflagration, harry. your excuse is a very bad one; and when you hear what i have to say about this house, let it be a lesson for the rest of your life, never to judge hastily, nor to act rashly. the officer to whom it belonged, has been killed in the great battle abroad; and while we are rejoicing in the victory that his bravery helped to gain, his widow and children are weeping within those walls, for the husband and father who lies buried on a foreign shore. think what a contrast these shouts of joy must be to their grief." "oh, uncle david! how sorry i am!" said harry. "i deserve to go home this moment, and not to see a candle again for a week. it was very wrong of me indeed. i shall walk all the way home, with my eyes shut, if you will only excuse me." "no, no, harry! that is not necessary! if the eyes of your mind are open, to see that you have acted amiss, then try to behave better in future. when people are happy themselves, they are too apt to forget that others may be in distress, and often feel quite surprised and provoked at those who appear melancholy; but our turn must come like theirs. life is made up of sunshine and shadow, both of which are sent for our good, and neither of them last, in this world, for ever; but we should borrow part of our joys, and part of our sorrows, from sympathy with all those we see or know, which will moderate the excess of whatever is our own portion in life." at this moment, the mob, which had been gradually increasing, gave a tremendous shout, and were on the point of throwing a torrent of stones at the dark, mournful house, which had made so narrow an escape from harry's vengeance, when major graham, forgetting his gout, hastily sprung upon a lamp-post, and calling for attention, he made a speech to the crowd, telling of the brave captain d---who had died for his country, covered with wounds, and that his mourning family was assembled in that house. instantly the mob became as silent and motionless as if they had themselves been turned into stones; after which they gradually stole away, with downcast eyes, and mournful countenances; while it is believed that some riotous people, who had been loudest and fiercest at first, afterwards stood at the top of the little street like sentinels, for more than an hour, to warn every one who passed, that he should go silently along, in respect for the memory of a brave and good officer. not another shout was heard in the neighbourhood that night; and many a merry laugh was suddenly checked from reverence for the memory of the dead, and the sorrow of the living; while some spectators remarked, with a sigh of melancholy reflection, that men must ever join trembling with their mirth, because even in the midst of life they are in death. "if we feel so much sorrow for this one officer and his family, it shows," said frank, "what a dreadful thing war is, which costs the lives of thousands and tens of thousands in every campaign, by sickness and fatigue, and the other sources of misery that accompany every army." "yes, frank! and yet there has scarcely been a year on earth, while the world has existed, without fighting in some country or another, for, since the time when cain killed abel, men have been continually destroying each other. animals only fight in temporary irritation when they are hungry, but pride, ambition, and folly of every kind, have caused men to hate and massacre each other. even religion itself has caused the fiercest and most bloody conflicts, though, if that were only understood and obeyed as it ought to be, the great truths of scripture would produce peace on earth, and good-will among all the children of men." the whole party had been standing for some minutes opposite to the post-office, which looked like a rainbow of coloured lamps, and harry was beginning, for the twentieth time, to try if he could count how many there were, when major graham felt something twitching hold of his coat pocket behind, and on wheeling suddenly round, he perceived a little boy, not much older than harry, darting rapidly off in another direction, carrying his own purse and pocket-handkerchief in his hand. being still rather lame, and unable to move very fast, major graham could only vociferate at the very top of his voice, "stop thief! stop thief!" but not a constable appeared in sight, so the case seemed desperate, and the money lost for ever, when frank observed also what had occurred, and being of an active spirit, he flew after the young thief, followed closely by harry. an eager race ensued, up one street, and down another, with marvellous rapidity, while frank was so evidently gaining ground, that the thief at last became terrified, and threw away the purse, hoping thus to end the chase; but neither of his pursuers paused a moment to pick it up, they were so intent upon capturing the little culprit himself. at length frank sprung forward and caught him by the collar, when a fierce conflict ensued, during which the young thief was so ingenious, that he nearly slipped his arms out of his coat, and would have made his escape, leaving a very tattered garment in their hands, if harry had not observed this trick, and held him by the hair, which, as it was not a wig, he could not so easily throw off. at this moment, a large coarse ruffianly-looking man hurried up to the party, evidently intending to rescue the little pick-pocket from their custody; so frank called loudly for help, while several police-officers who had been sent by major graham, came racing along the street, springing their rattles, and vociferating, "stop thief!" now, the boy struggled more violently than ever to disentangle himself, but frank and harry grasped hold of their prisoner, as if they had been a couple of bow street officers, till at length the tall fierce man thought it time to be off, though not before he had given harry a blow on the face, that caused him to reel back, and fall prostrate on the pavement. "there's a brave little gentleman!" said one of the constables, helping him up, while another secured the thief. "you ought to be knighted for fighting so well! this boy you have taken is a sad fellow! he broke his poor mother's heart a year since by his wicked ways, and i have long wished to catch him. a few weeks on the tread-mill now, may save him from the gallows in future." "he seems well practised in his business," observed major graham. "i almost deserved; however, to lose my pocket-book for bringing it out in a night of so much crowding and confusion. some lucky person will be all the richer, though i fear it is totally lost to me." "but here is your pocket-handkerchief, uncle david, if you mean to shed any tears for your misfortune," whispered laura; "how very lucky that you felt it going!" "yes, and very surprising too, for the trick was so cleverly executed! that little rascal might steal the teeth out of one's head, without being noticed! when i was in india, the thieves there were so expert that they really could draw the sheets from under a person sleeping in bed, without disturbing his slumbers." "with me, any person could do that, because i sleep so very soundly," observed frank. "you might beat a military drum at my ear, as they do in the boy's sleeping rooms at sandhurst, and it would not have the smallest effect. i scarcely think that even a gong would do!" "how very different from me," replied laura. "last night i was awakened by the scratching of a mouse nibbling in the wainscoat, and soon after it ran across my face." "then pray sleep to-night with your mouth open, and a piece of toasted cheese in it, to catch the mouse," said major graham. "that is the best trap i know!" "uncle david," asked frank, as they proceeded along the street, "if there is any hope of that wicked boy being reformed, will you try to have him taught better? being so very young, he must have learned from older people to steal." "certainly he must! it is melancholy to know how carefully mere children are trained to commit the very worst crimes, and how little the mind of any young boy can be a match for the cunning of old, experienced villains like those who lead them astray. when once a child falls into the snare of such practised offenders, escape becomes as impossible as that of a bird from a limed twig." "so i believe," replied frank. "grandmama told me that the very youngest children of poor people, when first sent to school in london, are often waylaid by those old women who sell apples in the street, and who pretend to be so good-natured that they make them presents of fruit. of course these are very acceptable, but after some time, those wicked wretches propose that the child in return shall bring them a book, or anything he can pick up at home, which shall be paid for in apples and pears. few little boys have sufficient firmness not to comply, whether they like it or not, and after that the case is almost hopeless, because, whenever the poor victim hesitates to steal more, those cruel women threaten to inform the parents of his misconduct, which terrifies the boy into doing anything rather than be found out." "oh, how dreadful!" exclaimed laura. "it all begins so smoothly! no poor little boy could suspect any danger, and then he becomes a hardened thief at once." "grandmama says, too, that pick-pockets, in london used to have the stuffed figure of a man hung from the roof of their rooms, and covered all over with bells, for the boys to practise upon, and no one was allowed to attempt stealing on the streets, till he could pick the pocket of this dangling effigy, without ringing one of the many bells with which it was ornamented." "i think," said harry, "when the young thieves saw that figure hanging in the air, it might have reminded them how soon they would share the same fate. even crows take warning when they see a brother crow hanging dead in a field." "it is a curious thing of crows, harry, that they certainly punish thieves among themselves," observed major graham. "in a large rookery, some outcasts are frequently to be observed living apart from the rest, and not allowed to associate with their more respectable brethren. i remember hearing formerly, that in the great rookery at --------, when all the other birds were absent, one solitary crow was observed to linger behind, stealing materials for his nest from those around, but next morning a prodigious uproar was heard among the trees,--the cawing became so vociferous, that evidently several great orators were agitating the crowd, till suddenly the enraged crows flew in a body upon the nest of their dishonest associate, and tore it in pieces." "bravo!" cried frank. "i do like to hear about all the odd ways of birds and animals! grandmama mentioned lately, that, if you catch a crow, and fasten him down with his back to the ground, he makes such an outcry, that all his black brothers come wheeling about the place, till one of them at last alights to help him. immediately the treacherous prisoner grapples hold of his obliging friend, and never afterwards lets him escape; so, by fastening down one after another, we might entrap the whole rookery." "i shall try it some day!" exclaimed harry, eagerly. "what fun to hear them all croaking and cawing!" "we shall be croaking ourselves soon with colds, if we do not hurry home," added uncle david. "there is not a thimbleful of light remaining, and your grandmama will be impatient to hear all the news. this has really been a most adventurous night, and i am sure none of us will soon forget it." when the whole party entered the drawing-room, in a blaze of spirits, all speaking at once, to tell lady harriet what had occurred, mrs. crabtree, who was waiting to take a couple of little prisoners off to bed, suddenly gave an exclamation of astonishment and dismay when she looked at harry, who now, for the first time since the robber had knocked him down, approached the light, when he did, to be sure, appear a most terrible spectacle! his jacket was bespattered with mud, his shirt-frill torn and bloody, one eye almost swelled out of his head, and the side of his face quite black and blue. "what mischief have you been in now, mr. harry?" cried mrs. crabtree, angrily; "you will not leave a whole bone in your body, nor a whole shirt in your drawer!" "these are honourable scars, mrs. crabtree," interrupted major graham. "harry has been fighting my battles, and gained a great victory! we must illuminate the nursery!" uncle david then told the whole story, with many droll remarks, about his purse having been stolen, and said that, as harry never complained of being hurt, he never supposed that anything of the kind could have occurred; but he felt very much pleased to observe how well a certain young gentleman was able to bear pain, as boys must expect hard blows in the world, when they had to fight their way through life, therefore it was well for them to give as few as they could, and to bear with fortitude what fell to their own share. uncle david slyly added, that perhaps harry put up with these things all the better for having so much practice in the nursery. mrs. crabtree seemed rather proud of harry's manly spirit, and treated him with a little more respect than usual, saying, she would fetch him some hot water to foment his face, if he would go straight up stairs with laura. now, it very seldom happened, that harry went straight anywhere, for he generally swung down the bannisters again, or took a leap over any thing he saw on the way, or got upon some of the tables and jumped off, but this night he had resolutely intended marching steadily up to bed, and advanced a considerable way, when a loud shout in the street attracted his attention. harry stopped, and it was repeated again, so seizing laura by the hand, they flew eagerly into lady harriet's dressing-room, and throwing open a window, they picked up a couple of cloaks that were lying on a chair, and both stepped out on a balcony to find out what was going on; and in case any one should see them in this unusual place, harry quietly shut the window down, intending to remain only one single minute. minutes run very fast away when people are amused, and nothing could be more diverting than the sight they now beheld, for at this moment a grand crash exploded of squibs and rockets from the castle-hill, which looked so beautiful in the dark, that it seemed impossible to think of anything else. some flew high in the air, and then burst into the appearance of twenty fiery serpents falling from the sky, others assumed a variety of colours, and dropped like flying meteors, looking as if the stars were all learning to dance, while many rushed into the air and disappeared, leaving not a trace behind. harry and laura stood perfectly entranced with admiration and delight, till the fire-works neither burst, cracked, nor exploded any more. a ballad-singer next attracted their notice, singing the tune of "meet me by moonlight," and afterwards laura shewed harry the constellation of orion mentioned in the bible, which, besides the great bear, was the only one she had the slightest acquaintance with. neither of them had ever observed the northern lights so brilliant before, and now they felt almost alarmed to see them shooting like lances of fire across the sky, and glittering with many bright colours, like a rainbow, while laura remembered her grandmama mentioning some days ago, that the poor natives of greenland believe these are the spirits of their fathers going forth to battle. meantime, lady harriet called frank, as usual, to his evening prayers and reading in her dressing-room, where it was well known that they were on no account to be disturbed. after having read a chapter, and talked very seriously about all it was intended to teach, they had begun to discuss the prospect of frank going abroad very soon to become a midshipman, and he was wondering much where his first great shipwreck would take place, and telling lady harriet about the loss of the cabalvala, where the crew lived for eight days on a barren rock, with nothing to eat but a cask of raspberry jam, which accidentally floated within their reach. before frank had finished his story, however, he suddenly paused, and sprung upon his feet with an exclamation of astonishment, while lady harriet, looking hastily round in the same direction, became terrified to observe a couple of faces looking in at the window. it was so dark, she could not see what they were like, but a moment afterwards the sash began slowly and heavily opening, after which two figures leaped into the room, while frank flew to ring a peal at the bell, and lady harriet sunk into her own arm-chair, covering her face with her hands, and nearly fainting with fright. "never mind, grandmama! do not be afraid! it is only us!" cried harry; "surely you know me?" "you!!!" exclaimed lady harriet, looking up with amazement. "harry and laura!! impossible! how in all the world did you get here? i thought you were both in bed half an hour ago! tiresome boy! you will be the death of me some time or other! i wonder when you will ever pass a day without deserving the bastinado!" "do you not remember the good day last month, grandmama, when i had a severe toothache, and sat all morning beside the fire? nobody found fault with me then, and i got safe to bed, without a single oh fie! from noon till night." "wonderful, indeed! what a pity i ever allowed that tooth to be drawn, but you behaved very bravely on the occasion of its being extracted. now take yourselves off! i feel perfectly certain you will tell mrs. crabtree the exact truth about where you have been, and if she punishes you, remember that it is no more than you both deserve. people who behave ill are their own punishers, and should be glad that some one will kindly take the trouble to teach them better." chapter xi. the poor boy. not all the fine things that fine people possess, should teach them the poor to despise; for 'tis in good manners, and not in good dress, that the truest gentility lies. the following saturday morning, frank, harry, and laura were assembled before lady harriet's breakfast hour, talking over all their adventures on the night of the illumination; and many a merry laugh was heard while uncle david cracked his jokes and told his stories, for he seemed as full of fun and spirits as the youngest boy in a play-ground. "well, old fellow!" said he, lifting up harry, and suddenly seating him on the high marble chimney-piece. "that is the situation where the poor little dwarf, baron borowloski was always put by his tall wife, when she wished to keep him out of mischief, and i wonder mrs. crabtree never thought of the same plan for you." "luckily there is no fire, or harry would soon be roasted for the giant snap-'em-up's dinner," said frank, laughing; "he looks up there like a china mandarin. shake your head, harry, and you will do quite as well!" "uncle david!" cried harry, eagerly, "pray let me see you stand for one moment as you do at the club on a cold day, with your feet upon the rug, your back to the fire, and your coat-tails under your arms! pray do, for one minute!" uncle david did as he was asked, evidently expecting the result, which took place, for harry sprung upon his back with the agility of a monkey, and they went round and round the room at a full gallop, during the next five minutes, while lady harriet said she never saw two such noisy people, but it was quite the fashion now, since the king of france carried his grandchildren, in the same way, every morning, a picture of which had lately been shown to her. "then i hope his majesty gets as good an appetite with his romp as i have done," replied major graham, sitting down. "none of your tea and toast for me! that is only fit for ladies. frank, reach me these beef-steaks, and a cup of chocolate." harry and laura now planted themselves at the window, gazing at crowds of people who passed, while, by way of a joke, they guessed what everybody had come out for, and who they all were. "there is a fat cook with a basket under her arm, going to market," said harry. "did you ever observe when mrs. marmalade comes home, she says to grandmama, 'i have desired a leg of mutton to come here, my lady! and i told a goose to be over also,' as if the leg of mutton and the goose walked here, arm-in-arm, of themselves." "look at those children, going to see the wild beasts," added laura, "and this little girl is on her way to buy a new frock. i am sure she needs one! that old man is hurrying along because he is too late for the mail-coach; and this lady with a gown like a yellow daffodil, is going to take root in the botanical gardens!" "uncle david! there is the very poorest boy i ever saw!" cried harry, turning eagerly round; "he has been standing in the cold here, for ten minutes, looking the picture of misery! he wears no hat, and has pulled his long lank hair to make a bow, about twenty times. do come and look at him! he is very pale, and his clothes seem to have been made before he began to grow, for they are so much too small, and he is making us many signs to open the window. may i do it?" "no! no! i never give to chance beggars of that kind, especially young able-bodied fellows like that, because there are so many needy, deserving people whom i visit, who worked as long as they could, and whom i know to be sober and honest. most of the money we scatter to street beggars goes straight to the gin-shop, and even the very youngest children will buy or steal, to get the means of becoming intoxicated. only last week, harry, the landlord of an ale-house at portobello was seen at the head of a long table, surrounded with ragged beggar boys about twelve or fourteen years of age, who were all perfectly drunk, and probably your friend there might be of the party." "oh no! uncle david! this boy seems quite sober and exceedingly clean, though he is so very poor!" replied laura; "his black trowsers are patched and repatched, his jacket has faded into fifty colours, and his shoes are mended in every direction, but still he looks almost respectable. his face is so thin you might use it for a hatchet. i wish you would take one little peep, for he seems so anxious to speak to us." "i daresay that! we all know what the youngster has to tell! probably a wife and six small children at home, or, if you like it better, he will be a shipwrecked sailor at your service. i know the whole affair already; but if you have sixpence to spare, laura, come with me after breakfast, and we shall bestow it on poor blind mrs. wilkie, who has been bed-ridden for the last ten years; or old paralytic jemmy dixon the porter, who worked hard as long as he was able. if you had twenty more sixpences, i could tell you of twenty more people who deserve them as much." "very true," added lady harriet. "street beggars, who are young and able to work, like that boy, it is cruelty to encourage. parents bring up their children in profligate idleness, hoping to gain more money by lying and cheating, than by honest industry, and they too often succeed, especially when the wicked mothers also starve and disfigure these poor creatures, to excite more compassion. we must relieve real distress, harry, and search for it as we would for hidden treasures, because thus we show our love to god and man; but a large purse with easy strings will do more harm than good." "do you remember, frank, how long i suspected that old john davidson was imposing upon me?" said major graham. "he told such a dismal story always, that i never liked to refuse him some assistance; but yesterday, when he was here, the thought struck me by chance to say, 'what a fine supper you had last night, john!' you should have seen the start he gave, and his look of consternation, when he answered, 'eh, sir! how did ye hear of that! we got the turkey very cheap, and none of us took more than two glasses of toddy.'" "that boy is pointing to his pockets, and making more signs for us to open the window!" exclaimed laura. "what can it all mean! he seems so very anxious!" major graham threw down his knife and fork--rose hastily from breakfast--and flung open the window, calling out in rather a loud, angry voice, "what do you want, you idle fellow? it is a perfect shame to see you standing there all morning! surely you don't mean to say that an active youngster like you would disgrace yourself by begging?" "no, sir! i want nothing!" answered the boy respectfully, but colouring to the deepest scarlet. "i never asked for money in my life, and i never will." "that's right, my good boy!" answered the major, instantly changing his tone. "what brings you here then?" "please, sir, your servants shut the door in my face, and every body is so hasty like, that i don't know what to do. i can't be listened to for a minute, though i have got something very particular to say, that some one would be glad to hear." major graham now looked exceedingly vexed with himself, for having spoken so roughly to the poor boy, who had a thoughtful, mild, but care-worn countenance, which was extremely interesting, while his manner seemed better than his dress. frank was despatched, as a most willing messenger, to bring the young stranger up stairs, while uncle david told harry that he would take this as a lesson to himself ever afterwards, not to judge hastily from appearances, because it was impossible for any one to guess what might be in the mind of another; and he began to hope this boy, who was so civil and well-spoken, might yet turn out to be a proper, industrious little fellow. "well, my lad! is there anything i can do for you?" asked major graham, when frank led him kindly into the room. "what is your name?" "evan mackay, at your service. please, sir, did you lose a pocket-book last thursday, with your name on the back, and nine gold sovereigns inside?" "yes! that i did, to my cost! have you heard anything of it?" the boy silently drew a parcel from his pocket, and without looking up or speaking, he modestly placed it on the table, then colouring very deeply, he turned away, and hurried towards the door. in another minute he would have been off, but frank sprung forward and took hold of his arm, saying, in the kindest possible manner, "stop, evan! stop a moment! that parcel seems to contain all my uncle's money. where did you get it? who sent it here?" "i brought it, sir! the direction is on the pocket-book, so there could be no mistake." "did you find it yourself then?" "yes! it was lying in the street that night when i ran for a doctor to see my mother, who is dying. she told me now to come back directly, sir, so i must be going." "but let us give you something for being so honest," said frank. "you are a fine fellow, and you deserve to be well rewarded." "i only did my duty, sir. mother always says we should do right for conscience' sake, and not for a reward." "yes! but you are justly entitled to this," said major graham, taking a sovereign out of the purse. "i shall do more for you yet, but in the meantime here is what you have honestly earned to-day." "if i thought so, sir,"----said the poor boy, looking wistfully at the glittering coin. "if i was quite sure there could be no harm----, but i must speak first to mother about it, sir! she has seen better days once, and she is sadly afraid of my ever taking charity. mother mends my clothes, and teaches me herself, and works very hard in other ways, but she is quite bed-ridden, and we have scarcely anything but the trifle i make by working in the fields. it is very difficult to get a job at all sometimes, and if you could put me in the way of earning that money, sir, it would make mother very happy. she is a little particular, and would not taste a morsel that i could get by asking for it." "that is being very proud!" said harry. "no, sir! it is not from pride," replied evan; "but mother says a merciful god has provided for her many years, and she will not begin to distrust him now. her hands are always busy, and her heart is always cheerful. she rears many little plants by her bedside, which we sell, and she teaches a neighbour's children, besides sewing for any one who will employ her, for mother's maxim always was, that there can be no such thing as an idle christian." "very true!" said lady harriet. "even the apostles were mending their nets and labouring hard, whenever they were not teaching. either the body or the mind should always be active." "if you saw mother, that is exactly her way, for she does not eat the bread of idleness. were a stranger to offer us a blanket or a dinner in charity, she would rather go without any than take it. a very kind lady brought her a gown one day, but mother would only have it if she were allowed to knit as many stockings as would pay for the stuff. i dare not take a penny more for my work than is due, for she says, if once i begin receiving alms, i might get accustomed to it." "that is the good old scotch feeling of former days," observed major graham. "it was sometimes carried too far then, but there is not enough of it now. your mother should have lived fifty years ago." "you may say so, indeed, sir! we never had a drop of broth from the soup-kitchen all winter, and many a day we shivered without a fire, though the society offered her sixpence a-week for coals, but she says 'the given morsel is soon done;' and now, many of our neighbours who wasted what they got, feel worse off than we, who are accustomed to suffer want, and to live upon our honest labour. long ago, if mother went out to tea with any of our neighbours, she always took her own tea along with us." "but that is being prouder than anybody else," observed frank, smiling. "if my grandmama goes out to a tea-party, she allows her friends to provide the fare." "very likely, sir! but that is different when people can give as good as they get. last week a kind neighbour sent us some nice loaf bread, but mother made me take it back, with her best thanks, and she preferred our own oat cake. she is more ready to give than to take, sir, and divides her last bannock, sometimes, with anybody who is worse off than ourselves." "poor fellow!" said frank, compassionately; "how much you must often have suffered!" "suffered!" said the boy, with sudden emotion. "yes! i have suffered! it matters nothing to be clothed in rags,--to be cold and hungry now! there are worse trials than that! my father died last year, crushed to death in a moment by his own cart-wheels,--my brothers and sisters have all gone to the grave, scarcely able to afford the medicines that might have cured them,--and i am left alone with my poor dying mother. it is a comfort that life is not very long, and we may trust all to god while it lasts." "could you take us to see mrs. mackay?" said major graham, kindly. "laura, get your bonnet." "oh, sir! that young lady could not stay half a minute in the place where my poor mother lives now. it is not a pretty cottage such as we read of in tracts, but a dark cold room, up a high stair, in the narrowest lane you ever saw, with nothing to sit on but an old chest." "never mind that, evan," replied major graham. "you and your mother have a spirit of honour and honesty that might shame many who are lying on sofas of silk and damask. i respect her, and shall assist you if it be possible. show us the way." many dirty closes and narrow alleys were threaded by the whole party, before they reached a dark ruinous staircase, where evan paused and looked round, to see whether major graham still approached. he then slowly mounted one flight of ancient crumbling steps after another, lighted by patched and broken windows, till at last they arrived at a narrow wooden flight, perfectly dark. after groping to the summit, they perceived a time-worn door, the latch of which was gently lifted by evan, who stole noiselessly into the room, followed by uncle david and the wondering children. there, a large cold room, nearly empty, but exceedingly clean, presented itself to their notice. in one corner stood a massive old chest of carved oak, surrounded with a perfect glow of geraniums and myrtles in full blossom; beside which were arranged a large antique bible, a jug of cold water, and a pile of coarsely-knitted worsted stockings. beyond these, on a bed of clean straw, lay a tall, emaciated old woman, apparently in the last stage of life, with a face haggard by suffering; and yet her thin, withered hands were busily occupied with needle-work, while, in low, faltering tones, she chanted these words, "when from the dust of death i rise, to claim my mansion in the skies, this, this shall be my only plea, jesus has liv'd and died for me." "mother!" said evan, wishing to arouse her attention. "look, mother!" "good day, mrs. mackay," added major graham, in a voice of great consideration, while she languidly turned her head towards the door. "i have come to thank you for restoring my purse this morning." "you are kindly welcome, sir! what else could we do!" replied she, in a feeble, tremulous voice. "the money was yours, and the sooner it went out of our hands the better." "it was perfectly safe while it stayed there," added major graham, not affecting to speak in a homely accent, nor putting on any airs of condescension at all, but sitting down on the old chest as if he had never sat on any thing but a chest in his life before, and looking at the clean bare floor with as much respect as if it had been a turkey carpet. "your little boy's pocket seems to be as safe as the bank of scotland." "that is very true, sir! my boy is honest; and it is well to keep a good conscience, as that is all he has in this world to live for. many have a heavy conscience to carry with a heavy purse; but these he need not envy. if we are poor in this world, we are rich in faith; and i trust the money was not even a temptation to evan, because he has learned from the best of all teachers, that it would 'profit him nothing to gain the whole world, and lose his own soul.'" "true, mrs. mackay! most true! we have come here this morning to request that you and he will do me the favour to accept of a small recompense." "we are already rewarded, sir! this has been an opportunity of testifying to our own hearts that we desire to do right in the eye of god. at the same time, it was providence who kindly directed my son's steps to the place where that money was lying; and if anything seems justly due to poor evan, let him have it. my wants are few, and must soon be ended. but oh! when i look at that boy, and think of the long years he may be struggling with poverty and temptation, my heart melts within me, and my whole spirit is broken. faith itself seems to fail, and i could be a beggar for him now! it is not money i would ask, sir, because that might soon be spent; but get him some honest employment, and i will thank you on my very knees." evan seemed startled at the sudden energy of his mother's manner, and tears sprung into his eyes while she spoke with a degree of agitation so different from what he had ever heard before; but he struggled to conceal his feelings, and she continued with increasing emotion, "bodily suffering, and many a year of care and sorrow, are fast closing their work on me. the moments are passing away like a weaver's shuttle; and if i had less anxiety about evan, how blessed a prospect it would appear; but that is the bitterness of death to me now. my poor, poor boy! i would rather hear he was in the way of earning his livelihood, than that he got a hundred a-year. tell me, sir!--and oh! consider you are speaking to a dying creature--can you possibly give him any creditable employment, where he might gain a crust of bread, and be independent?" "i honour your very proper feeling on the subject, mrs. mackay, and shall help evan to the best of my ability," replied major graham, in a tone of seriousness and sincerity. "to judge by these fine geraniums, he must be fond of cultivating plants; and we want an under-gardener in the country; therefore he shall have that situation without loss of time." "oh, mother! mother! speak no more of dying! you will surely get better now!" said evan, looking up, while his thin pale face assumed a momentary glow of pleasure. "try now to get better! i never could work as well, if you were not waiting to see me come home! we shall be so happy now!" "yes! i am happy!" said mrs. mackay, solemnly looking towards heaven, with an expression that could not be mistaken. "the last cord is cut that bound me to the earth; and may you, sir, find hereafter the blessings that are promised to those who visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction." chapter xii. the young midshipman. when hands are link'd that dread to part, and heart is met by throbbing heart; oh! bitter, bitter is the smart of them that bid farewell. heber. next monday morning, at an early hour, frank had again found his way with great difficulty to the house of widow mackay, where he spent all his pocket money on two fine scarlet geraniums. if they had been nettles or cabbages, he would have felt the same pleasure in buying them; and his eyes sparkled with animation when he entered uncle david's room, carrying them in his hand, and saying, "i was so glad to have some money! i could spare it quite well. there is no greater pleasure in being rich than to help such poor people as evan mackay and his poor sick mother!" "yes, frank, i often wonder that any enjoyment of wealth can be considered equal to the exercise of kind feelings, for surely the most delightful sensation in this world is, to deserve and receive the grateful affection of those around us," replied major graham. "what a wretched being robinson crusoe was on the desert island alone, though he found chests of gold, and yet many people are as unblessed in the midst of society, who selfishly hoard fortunes for themselves, unmindful of the many around who ought to be gratefully receiving their daily benefits." "i was laughing to read lately of the west india slaves, who collected money all their lives in an old stocking," said frank, "and who watched with delight as it filled from year to year; but the bank is only a great stocking, where misers in this country lay up treasures for themselves which they are never to enjoy, though too often they lay up no treasures for themselves in a better world." "i frequently think, frank, if all men were as liberal, kind, and forbearing to each other as the holy scriptures enjoin, and if we lived as soberly, temperately, and godly together, what a paradise this world would become, for many of our worst sufferings are brought on by our own folly, or the unkindness of others. and certainly, if we wished to fancy the wretchedness of hell itself, it would only be necessary to imagine what the earth would become if all fear of god and man were removed, and every person lived as his own angry, selfish passions would dictate. great are the blessings we owe to christianity, for making the world even what it is now, and yet greater would those blessings be, if we obeyed it better." "that is exactly what grandmama says, and that we must attend to the gospel from love and gratitude to god, rather than from fear of punishment or hope of reward, which is precisely what we saw in poor widow mackay and evan, who seemed scarcely to expect a recompense for behaving so honestly." "that was the more remarkable in them, as few christians now are above receiving a public recompense for doing their duty to god. men of the world have long rewarded each other with public dinners and pieces of plate, to express the utmost praise and admiration, but of late i never open a newspaper without reading accounts of one clergyman or another, who has been 'honoured with a public breakfast!' when he is presented by an admiring circle with 'a gold watch and appendages!' or a bible with a complimentary inscription, or a gown, or a pair of bands, worked by the ladies of his congregation! and all this, for labouring among his own people, in his own sphere of duty! what would archbishop leighton and the old divines have said to any one who attempted to rouse their vanity in this way, with the praise of men?" "what you say reminds me, uncle david," said frank, "that we have been asked to present our universal-knowledge-master with a silver snuff-box, as a testimonial from the scholars in my class, because he is going soon to van dieman's land, therefore i hope you will give me half-a-crown to subscribe, or i shall be quite in disgrace with him." "not one shilling shall you receive from me, my good friend, for any such purpose! a snuff-box, indeed! your master ought to show his scholars an example of using none! a filthy waste of health, money, and time. such testimonials should only be given, as archbishop magee says, to persons who have got into some scrape, which makes their respectability doubtful. if my grocer is ever publicly presented with a pair of silver sugar tongs, i shall think he has been accused of adulterating the sugar, and give over employing him directly." "laura," said frank, "you will be having a silver thimble voted to you for hemming six pocket-handkerchiefs in six years!" "i know one clergyman, dr. seton, who conscientiously refused a piece of plate, which was about to be presented in this way," continued major graham; "he accidentally heard that such a subscription was begun among the rich members of his congregation, and instantly stopped it, saying, 'let your testimonial consist in a regular attendance at church, and let my sole reward be enjoyed hereafter, when you appear as my crown of joy and rejoicing in the presence of our lord jesus christ at his coming.'" sir edward graham's particular friend, captain gordon, at last wrote to say, that the thunderbolt, 74, having been put in commission for three years, was about to sail for the african station, therefore he wished frank to join without delay; and as a farther mark of his regard, he promised that he would endeavour to keep his young protege employed until he had served out his time, because a midshipman once paid off, was like a stranded whale, not very easily set afloat again. lady harriet sighed when she read the letter, and looked paler all that day, but she knew that it was right and necessary for frank to go, therefore she said nothing to distress him on the occasion, only in her prayers and explanations of the bible that evening, there was a deeper tone of feeling than ever, and a cast of melancholy, which had rarely been the case before, while he spoke much of that meeting in a better world, which is the surest hope and consolation of those christians who separate on earth, and who know not what a day, and still less what many years, may bring forth. major graham tried to put a cheerful face on the matter also, though he evidently felt very sorry indeed about parting with frank, and took him out a long walk to discuss his future prospects, saying, "now you are an officer and a gentleman, entitled therefore to be treated with new respect and attention, by all your brother officers, naval or military, in his majesty's service." frank himself, being a boy of great spirit and enterprize, felt glad that the time had really come for his being afloat, and examining all the world over with his own eyes; but he said that his heart seemed as if it had been put in a swing, it fell so low when he thought of leaving his dear happy home, and then it rose again higher than ever at the very idea of being launched on the wide ocean, and going to the countries he had so often read of, where battles had been fought and victories won. "frank!" said peter grey, who was going to join the thunderbolt, in about a fortnight afterwards, "you have no idea how beautiful i looked in uniform to-day! i tried mine on, and felt so impatient to use my dirk, i could have eat my dinner with it, instead of employing a common knife." "you never forget to be hungry, peter," said frank, laughing. "but now you are like the old lord buchan, who used to say he could cook his porridge in his helmet, and stir it with his broad-sword." "i hope," said major graham, "you both intend to become very distinguished officers, and to leave a name at which the world grows pale." "certainly," answered peter. "all the old heroes we read of shall be mere nobodies compared to me! i mean to lose a leg or an arm in every battle,"---"till nothing is left of you but your shirt-collar and shoe-strings," interrupted frank, laughing. "no! no! what remains of me at last shall die a peer of the realm," continued peter. "we must climb to the top of the tree, frank! what title do you think i should take?" "lord cockpit would suit you best for some time, peter! it will not be so easy a business to rise as you think. every one can run a race, but very few can win," observed major graham. "the rarest thing on earth is to succeed in being both conspicuous and respectable. any dunce may easily be either the one or the other, but the chief puzzle with most men is, how to be both. in your profession there are great opportunities, but at the same time let me warn you, that the sea is not a bed of roses." "no, uncle david! but i hope it will become a field of laurels to us," replied frank, laughing. "now tell me in real earnest who you think was the greatest of our naval heroes till now, when peter is to cut them all out." "he must wait a few years. it is a long ladder to run up before reaching the top. in france, the king's sons are all born field marshals, but nobody in this country is born an admiral. the great lord duncan served during half-a-century before gaining his most important victory, but previous to that, he paved the way to success, not by mere animal courage alone, but by being so truly good and religious a man, that his extraordinary firmness and benevolence of character gained the confidence and respect of all those who served with him, and therefore half his success in battle was owing to his admirable conduct during peace." "so i have heard!" replied frank; "and when there was mutiny in every other ship, the admiral's own crew remained faithful to him. how much better it is to be obeyed from respect and attachment than from fear, which is a mean feeling that i hope neither to feel myself, nor to excite in others. i wish to be like nelson, who asked, 'what is fear? i never saw it.'" "yes, frank! nelson was said to be 'brave as a lion, and gentle as a lamb.' certainly both he and lord duncan were pre-eminently great; but neither lord duncan, nor any other enlightened christian, would have said what lord nelson did, with his latent breath--'i have not been a great sinner!' no mortal could lift up his eyes at the day of judgment, and repeat those words again; for every man that breathes the breath of life is a great sinner. we are living in god's own world without remembering him, continually; and amidst thousands of blessings we disobey him. the chief purpose for which men are created, is to glorify god, and to prepare for entering his presence in a better world; but instead of doing so, we live as if there were no other object to live for, than our own pleasures and amusements on earth. how, then, can we be otherwise than great sinners? i hope, frank, that you will endeavour to be, like lord duncan, not merely a good officer, but also a good christian; for, besides fighting the battles of your country, you must gain a great victory over yourself, as all men must either conquer their own evil dispositions, or perish for ever." lady harriet was particularly earnest in entreating frank to write frequently home; observing, that she considered it a religious duty in all children, to shew their parents this attention, as the bible says that "a wise son maketh a glad father," and that "the father of the righteous shall greatly rejoice;" but on the contrary, too many young persons leave their parents to mourn in suspense and anxiety, as to the health and happiness of those whom they love more than they can ever love any one else. "tell us of every thing that interests you, and even all about the spouting whales, flying fish, and dying dolphins, which you will of course see," said laura. "be sure to write us also, how many albatrosses you shoot, and whether you are duly introduced to neptune at the cape." "yes, laura! but bishop heber's journal, or any other book describing a voyage to the cape, mentions exactly the same thing. it will quite bring me home again when i speak to you all on paper; and i shall be able to fancy what everybody will say when my letter is read. mrs. darwin sent for me this morning on particular business; and it was to say that she wished me, in all the strange countries where the thunderbolt touched, to employ my spare moments in chasing butterflies, that as many as possible might be added to her museum." "capital! how like mrs. darwin!" exclaimed major graham, laughing. "you will of course be running all over africa, hat in hand, pursuing painted butterflies, till you get a _coup de soleil_, like my friend watson, who was killed by one. poor fellow! i was with him then, and it was a frightful scene. he wheeled round several times, in a sort of convulsion, till he dropped down dead in my arms." "i shall gild the legs and bills of some ducks before leaving home, and send them to her as a present from sierra leone," said peter. "the wings might be died scarlet, which would look quite foreign; and if an elephant falls in my way, it shall be stuffed and forwarded by express." "uncle david! do you remember what fun we had, when you sent mrs. darwin that stuffed bear in a present! i was desired to announce that a foreigner of distinction had arrived to stay at her house. what a bustle she was in on hearing that he brought letters of introduction from you, and intended to remain some time. then we told her that he could not speak a word of english, and brought 'a pole' with him; besides which he had once been a great dancer. oh! how amusing it was, when she at last ventured into the passage to be introduced, and saw her fine stuffed bear." "whatever people collect," said peter, "every good-natured person assists. i mean to begin a collection of crooked sixpences immediately; therefore, pray never spend another, but give me as many as you can spare; and the more crooked the better." "sing a song a sixpence!" said frank, laughing. "laura should begin to collect diamonds for a necklace, and perhaps it might be all ready before she comes out. i shall return home on purpose to see you then, laura." "pray do, master frank," said mrs. crabtree, with more than usual kindness; "we shall have great rejoicings on the occasion of seeing you back--an ox roasted alive, as they do in england, and all them sort of tom-fooleries. i'll dance a jig then myself for joy--you certainly are a wonderful good boy, considering that i had not the managing of you." frank's departure was delayed till after the examination of his school, because mr. lexicon had requested that, being the best scholar there, he might remain to receive a whole library of prize-books, and a whole pocketful of medals; for, as peter remarked, "frank graham deserved any reward, because he learned his lessons so perfectly, that he could not say them wrong even if he wished!" harry and laura were allowed to attend on the great occasion, that they might witness frank's success; and never, certainly, had they seen any thing so grand in their lives before! a hundred and forty boys, all dressed in white trowsers and yellow gloves, were seated in rows, opposite to six grave learned-looking gentlemen, in wigs and spectacles, who seemed as if they would condemn all the scholars to death! the colour mounted into harry's cheeks with delight, and the tears rushed into his eyes, when he saw frank, whose face was radiant with good-humour and happiness, take his place as head boy in the school. all his companions had crowded round frank as he entered, knowing that this was his last appearance in the class; while he spoke a merry or a kind word to each, leaning on the shoulder of one, and grasping the hand of another with cordial kindness, for he liked everybody, and everybody liked him. no one envied frank being dux, because they knew how hard he worked for that place, and how anxious he had been to help every other boy in learning as cleverly as himself; for all the boobies would have become duxes if frank could have assisted them to rise, while many an idler had been made busy by his attention and advice. no boy ever received, in one day, more presents than frank did on this occasion from his young friends, who spent all their pocket-money in pen-knives and pencil-cases, which were to be kept by frank, in remembrance of them, as long as he lived; and some of his companions had a tear in their eye on bidding him farewell, which pleased him more than all their gifts. major graham took his place, with more gravity than usual, among the judges appointed to distribute the prizes; and now, during more than two hours, the most puzzling questions that could be invented were put to every scholar in succession, while frank seemed always ready with an answer, and not only spoke for himself, but often good-naturedly prompted his neighbours, in so low a tone that no one else heard him. his eyes brightened, and his face grew red with anxiety, while even his voice shook at first; but before long frank collected all his wits about him, and could construe latin or repeat greek with perfect ease, till at length the whole examination concluded, and the great dr. clifford, who had lately come all the way from oxford, was requested to present the prizes. upon this he rose majestically from his arm-chair, and made a long speech, filled as full as it could hold with latin and greek. he praised homer and horace for nearly twenty minutes, and brought in several lines from virgil, after which he turned to frank, saying, in a tone of great kindness and condescension, though at the same time exceedingly pompous, "it seems almost a pity that this young gentleman--already so very accomplished a scholar--who is, i may say, a perfect _multum in parvo_, should prematurely pause in his classical career to enter the navy; but in every situation of life his extraordinary activity of mind, good temper, courage and ability, must render him an honour to his country and his profession." dr. clifford now glanced over the list of prizes, and read aloud--"first prize for greek--master graham!" frank walked gracefully forward, coloured and bowed, while a few words of approbation were said to him, and a splendidly-bound copy of euripides was put into his hands by dr. clifford, who then hastily read over the catalogue of prizes to himself, in an audible voice, and in a tone of great surprise. "first prize for latin!--master graham! first for algebra,--first for geography,--first for mathematics,--all master graham!!!--and last, not least, a medal for general good conduct, which the boys are allowed to bestow upon the scholar they think most deserving,--and here stands the name of master graham again!!" dr. clifford paused, while the boys all stood up for a moment and clapped their hands with enthusiasm, as a token of rejoicing at the destination of their own medal. for the first time frank was now completely overcome,--he coloured more deeply than before, and looked gratefully round, first at his companions, then at his master, and last at major graham, who had a tear standing in his eye when he smiled upon frank, and held out his hand. frank's lip quivered for a moment, as if he would burst into tears, but with a strong effort he recovered himself, and affectionately grasping his uncle's hand, hastily resumed his place on the bench, to remain there while his companions received the smaller prizes awarded to them. meanwhile, harry had been watching frank with a feeling of joy and pride, such as he never experienced before, and could scarcely refrain from saying to every person near him, "that is my brother!" he looked at frank long and earnestly, wishing to be like him, and resolving to follow his good example at school. he gazed again and again, with new feelings of pleasure and admiration, till gradually his thoughts became melancholy, while remembering how soon they must be separated; and suddenly the terrible idea darted into his mind, "perhaps we never may meet again!" harry tried not to think of this; he turned his thoughts to other subjects; he forced himself to look at anything that was going on, but still these words returned with mournful apprehension to his heart, "perhaps we never may meet again!" frank's first action, after the examination had been concluded, was hastily to gather up all his books, and bring a sight of them to harry and laura; but what was his astonishment when, instead of looking at the prizes, harry suddenly threw his arms round his neck, and burst into tears. "my dear--dear boy! what has happened!" exclaimed frank, affectionately embracing him, and looking much surprised. "tell me, dear harry, has any thing distressed you?" "i don't know very well, frank! but you are going away,--and--and--i wish i had been a better boy! i would do any thing you bid me now!--but i shall never be so happy again--no! never, without you!" "but, dear harry! you will have laura and grandmama, and uncle david, all left, and i am coming back some day! oh! what a happy meeting we shall have then!" said frank, while the tears stood in his eyes; and drawing harry's arm within his own, they walked slowly away together. "i am very--very anxious for you and laura to be happy," continued frank, in the kindest manner; "but, dear harry, will you not take more care to do as you are bid, and not always to prefer doing what you like! mrs. crabtree would not be half so terrible if you did not provoke her by some new tricks every day. i almost like her myself; for as the old proverb says, 'her bark is worse than her bite;' and she often reminds me of that funny old fable, where the mice were more afraid of the loud, fierce-looking cock, than of the sleek, smooth-looking cat, for there are people carrying gentler tongues yet quite as difficult to deal with. at the same time, seeing how uncomfortable you and laura both feel with mrs. crabtree, i have written a letter to papa, asking, as my last and only request on leaving home, that he will make a change of ministry, and he is always so very kind, that i feel sure he will grant it." "how good of you, frank!" said harry. "i am sure it is our own faults very often when we are in disgrace, for we are seldom punished till we deserve it; but i am so sorry you are going away, that i can think of nothing else." "so am i, very sorry indeed; but my best comfort, when far from home, would be, to think that you and laura are happy, which will be the case when you become more watchful to please grandmama." "that is very true, frank! and i would rather offend twenty mrs. crabtrees than one grandmama; but perhaps uncle david may send me to school now, when i shall try to be like you, sitting at the top of the class, and getting prizes for good behaviour." "well, harry! my pleasantest days at school have been those when i was busiest, and you will find the same thing. how delightful it was, going over and over my tasks till they were quite perfect, and then rushing out to the play-ground, where my mind got a rest, while my body was active; you know it is seldom that both mind and body work at once, and the best way of resting the one is, to make the other labour. that is probably the reason, harry, why games are never half so pleasant as after hard study." "perhaps," replied harry, doubtfully; "but i always hate any thing that i am obliged to do." "then never be a sailor, as i shall be obliged to do fifty things a-day that i would rather not; for instance, to get up in the middle of the night, when very likely dreaming about being at home again; but, as grandmama says, it is pleasant to have some duties, for life would not get on well without them." "yes--perhaps--i don't know!--we could find plenty to do ourselves, without anybody telling us. i should like to-morrow, to watch the boys playing at cricket, and to see the races, and the diorama, and in the evening to shoot our bows and arrows." "my good sir! what the better would you, or anybody else, be of such a life as that! not a thing in this world is made to be useless, harry; the very weeds that grow in the ground are for some serviceable purpose, and you would not wish to be the only creature on earth living entirely for yourself. it would be better if neither of us had ever been born, than that the time and opportunities which god gives us for improving ourselves and doing good to others, should all be wasted. let me hope, harry, when i am away, that you will often consider how dull grandmama may then feel, and how happy you might make her by being very attentive and obedient." "yes, frank! but i could never fill your place!--that is quite impossible! nobody can do that!" "try!--only try, harry! grandmama is very easily pleased when people do their best. she would not have felt so well satisfied with me, if that had not been the case." "frank!" said harry, sorrowfully, "i feel as if ten brothers were going away instead of one, for you are so good to me! i shall be sure to mention you in my prayers, because that is all i can do for you now." "not all, harry! though that is a great deal; you must write to me often, and tell me what makes you happy or unhappy, for i shall be more interested than ever, now that we are separated. tell me everything about my school-fellows, too, and about laura. there is no corner of the wide world where i shall not think of you both every day, and feel anxious about the very least thing that concerns you." "my dear boys!" said major graham, who had joined them some moments before, "it is fortunate that you have both lived always in the same home, for that will make you love each other affectionately as long as you live. in england, children of one family are all scattered to different schools, without any one to care whether they are attached or not, therefore their earliest and warmest friendships are formed with strangers of the same age, whom they perhaps never see again, after leaving school. in that case, brothers have no happy days of childhood to talk over in future life, as you both have,--no little scrapes to remember, that they got into together--no pleasures enjoyed at the same moment to smile at the recollection of, and no friction of their tempers in youth, such as makes every thing go on smoothly between brothers when they grow older; therefore, when at last grown up and thrown together, they scarcely feel more mutual friendship and intimacy than any other gentlemen testify towards each other." "i dare say that is very true," said frank. "tom brownlow tells me when his three brothers come home from eton, harrow, and durham, they quarrel so excessively, that sometimes no two of them are on speaking terms." "not at all improbable," observed major graham. "in every thing we see how much better god's arrangements are than our own. families were intended to be like a little world in themselves--old people to govern the young ones--young people to make their elders cheerful--grown-up brothers and sisters to show their juniors a good example--and children to be playthings and companions to their seniors, but that is all at an end in the present system." "old andrew says that large families 'squander' themselves all over the earth now," said frank, laughing. "yes! very young children are thrust into preparatory schools--older boys go to distant academies--youths to college--and young men are shipped off abroad, while who among them all can say his heart is in his own home? parents in the meantime, finding no occupation or amusement in educating their children, begin writing books, perhaps theories of education, or novels; and try to fill up the rest of their useless hours with plays, operas, concerts, balls, or clubs. if people could only know what is the best happiness of this life, it certainly depends on being loved by those we belong to; for nothing can be called peace on earth, which does not consist in family affection, built upon a strong foundation of religion and morality." sir edward graham felt very proud of frank, as all gentlemen are of their eldest sons, and wrote a most affectionate letter on the occasion of his going to sea, promising to meet him at portsmouth, and lamenting that he still felt so ill and melancholy he could not return home, but meant to try whether the baths in germany would do him any good. in this letter was enclosed what he called "frank's first prize-money," the largest sum the young midshipman had ever seen in his life, and before it had been a day in his possession, more than the half was spent on presents to his friends. not a single person seemed to be forgotten except himself; for frank was so completely unselfish, that peter grey once laughingly said, "frank scarcely remembers there is such a person as himself in the world, therefore it is astonishing how he contrives to exist at all." "if that be his worst fault, you shew him a very opposite example, peter," said major graham, smiling; "number one is a great favourite with you." "frank is also very obliging!" added lady harriet; "he would do anything for any body." "ah, poor fellow! he can't help that," said peter, in a tone of pity. "some people are born with that sort of desperate activity--flying to assist every one--running up stairs for whatever is wanted--searching for whatever is lost--and picking up whatever has been dropped. i have seen several others like frank, who were troubled with that sort of turn. he is indulging his own inclination in flying about everywhere for everybody, as much as i do in sitting still!--it is all nature!--you know tastes differ, for some people like apples and some like onions." frank had a black shade of himself, drawn in uniform and put into a gilt frame, all for one shilling, which he presented to his grandmama, who looked sadly at the likeness when he came smiling into her dressing-room, and calling harry to assist in knocking a nail into the wall, that it might be hung above the chimney-piece. "i need nothing to remind me of you, dear frank," observed lady harriet, "and this is a sad exchange, the shadow for the substance." frank gave a handsome new red morocco spectacle-case to uncle david, and asked leave to carry away the old one with him as a remembrance. he bought gowns for all the maids, and books for all the men-servants. he presented mrs. crabtree with an elegant set of tea-cups and saucers, promising to send her a box of tea the first time he went to china; and for laura and harry he produced a magnificent magic lanthorn, representing all the stars and planets, which cost him several guineas. it was exhibited the evening before frank went away, and caused great entertainment to a large party of his companions, who assembled at tea to take leave of him, on which occasion peter grey made a funny speech, proposing frank's health in a bumper of bohea, when the whole party became very merry, and did not disperse till ten. major graham intended accompanying frank to portsmouth, and they were to set off by the mail next evening. that day was a sad one to harry and laura, who were allowed a whole holiday; but not a sound of merriment was heard in the house, except when frank tried to make them cheerful, by planning what was to be done after he came back, or when major graham invented droll stories about the adventures frank would probably meet with at sea. even mrs. crabtree looked more grave and cross than usual; and she brought frank a present of a needle-case made with her own hands, and filled with thread of every kind, saying, that she heard all "midshipmites" learned to mend their things, and keep them decent, which was an excellent custom, and ought to be encouraged; but she hoped he would remember, that "a stitch in time saves nine." lady harriet stayed most of that day in her dressing-room, and tried to conceal the traces of many tears when she did appear; but it was only too evident how sadly her time had been passed alone. "grandmama!" said frank, taking her hand affectionately, and trying to look cheerful; "we shall meet again; perhaps very soon!" lady harriet silently laid her hand upon the bible, to show that there she found the certain assurance of another meeting in a better world; but she looked at frank with melancholy affection, and added, very solemnly and emphatically, "'there is no union here of hearts, that finds not here an end.'" "but, grandmama! you are not so very old!" exclaimed laura, earnestly. "lord rockville was born ten years sooner, and besides, young people sometimes die before older people." "yes, laura! young people may die, but old people must. it is not possible that this feeble aged frame of mine can long remain in the visible world. 'the eye of him that hath seen me shall me no more.' i have many more friends under the earth now, than on it. the streets of this city would be crowded, if all those i once knew and still remember, could be revived; but my turn is fast coming, like theirs, and frank knows, as all of you do, where it is my hope and prayer that we may certainly meet again." "grandmama!" said frank, in a low and broken voice, "it wants but an hour to the time of my departure; i should like much if the servants were to come up now for family prayers and if uncle david would read us the 14th chapter of st. john." lady harriet rung the bell, and before long the whole household had assembled, as not one would have been absent on the night of master frank's departure from home, which all were deeply grieved at, and even mrs. crabtree dashed a tear from her cheek as she entered the room. frank sat with his hand in lady harriet's, while major graham read the beautiful and comforting chapter which had been selected, and when the whole family kneeled in solemn prayer together, many a deep sob, which could not be conquered, was heard from frank himself. after all was over, he approached the servants, and silently shook hands with each, but could not attempt to speak; after which lady harriet led him to her dressing-room, where they remained some time, till, the carriage having arrived, frank hastened into the drawing-room, clasped harry and laura in his arms, and having, in a voice choked with grief, bid them both a long farewell, he hurried out of their presence. when the door closed, something seemed to fall heavily on the ground, but this scarcely attracted any one's attention, till major graham followed frank, and was shocked to find him lying on the staircase perfectly insensible. instead of calling for assistance, however, uncle david carefully lifted frank in his own arms, and carried him to the carriage, where, after a few moments, the fresh air, and the rapid motion revived his recollection, and he burst into tears. "poor grandmama! and harry and laura!" cried he, weeping convulsively. "oh! when shall i see them all again!" "my dear boy!" said major graham, trying to be cheerful; "do you think nobody ever left home before? one would suppose you never expected to come back! three years seem an age when we look forward, but are nothing after they have fled. the longer we live, the shorter every year appears, and it will seem only the day after to-morrow when you are rushing into the house again, and all of us standing at the door to welcome you back. think what a joyous moment that will be! there is a wide and wonderful world for you to see first, and then a happy home afterwards to revisit." "yes, dear, good, kind uncle david! no one ever had a happier home; and till the east comes to the west, i shall never cease to think of it with gratitude to you and grandmama. we shall surely all meet again. i must live upon that prospect. hope is the jewel that remains wherever we go, and the hope to which grandmama has directed me, is truly compared to a rainbow, which not only brightens the earth, but stretches to heaven." chapter xiii. the amusing drive. i would not enter on my list of friends (though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense, yet wanting sensibility) the man who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. cowper. lady harriet was confined to bed for several days after frank's departure from home, and during all that week harry and laura felt so melancholy, that even mrs. crabtree became sorry for them, saying it was quite distressing to see how quiet and good they had become, for master harry was as mild as milk now, and she almost wished he would be at some of his old tricks again. on the following monday, a message arrived from lady rockville, to say that she was going a long drive in her phaeton, to visit some boys at musselburgh school, and would be happy to take harry and laura of the party, if their grandmama had no objection. none being made by anybody, they flew up stairs to get ready, while harry did not take above three steps at a time, and laura, when she followed, felt quite astonished to find mrs. crabtree looking almost as pleased as herself, and saying she hoped the expedition would do them both good. before five minutes had elapsed, harry was mounted on the dickey, where lady rockville desired him to sit, instead of the footman, who was now dismissed, as no room could be made for both; so after that harry touched his hat whenever any of the party spoke to him, as if he had really been the servant. laura, meanwhile, was placed between lady rockville and miss perceval, where she could hardly keep quiet a minute for joy, though afraid to turn her head or to stir her little finger, in case of being thought troublesome. "i am told that the races take place at musselburgh to-day," said lady rockville. "it is a cruel amusement, derived from the sufferings of noble animals; they have as good a right to be happy in the world as ourselves, laura; but we shall pass that way, so harry and you will probably see the crowds of carriages." "oh, how enchanting!--i never saw a race-course in my life!" exclaimed laura, springing off her seat with delight. "harry! harry! we are going to the races!" "hurra!" exclaimed harry, clapping his hands; "what a delightful surprise! oh! i am so dreadfully happy!" "after all, my dear lady rockville," said miss perceval, yawning, "what have horses got legs for, except to run?" "yes, but not at such a pace! it always shocked me--formerly at doncaster, where the jockeys were sometimes paid â£1000 for winning--to see how the poor animals were lashed and spurred along the course, foaming with fatigue, gasping till they nearly expired. horses, poor creatures, from the hour of their birth till their death, have a sad time of it!" "grandmama once read me a beautiful description of a wild horse in his natural state of liberty," said laura. "among the south american forests he was to be seen carrying his head erect, with sparkling eyes, flowing mane, and splendid tail, trotting about among the noble trees, or cropping the grass at his feet, looking quite princely, and doing precisely what he pleased." "then look at the contrast," said lady rockville, pointing to a long row of cart-horses with galled sides, shrivelled skins, broken knees, and emaciated bodies, which were all dragging their weary load along. "animals are all meant for the use of man, but not to be abused, like these poor creatures!" "as for racing," said miss perceval, "a thorough-bred horse enters into the spirit of it quite as much as his rider. did you never hear of quin's celebrated steed, which became so eager to win, that when his antagonist passed he seized him violently by the leg, and both jockeys had to dismount that the furious animal might be torn away. the famous horse forester, too, caught hold of his opponent by the jaw, and could scarcely be disengaged." "think of all the cruel training these poor creatures went through before they came to that," added lady rockville; "of the way in which horses are beaten, spurred, and severely cut with the whip; then, after their strength fails, like the well-known 'high-mettled racer,' the poor animal is probably sold at last to perpetual hard labour and ill-usage." "uncle david shewed me yesterday," said laura, "that horrid picture which you have probably seen, by cruickshanks, of the knackers' yards in london, where old horses are sent to end their miserable days, after it is impossible to torture them any longer into working. oh! it was dreadful! and yet grandmama said the whole sketch had been taken from life." "i know that," answered lady rockville. "in these places the wretched animals are literally put to death by starvation, and may be seen gnawing each other's manes in the last agonies of hunger." "my dear lady rockville," exclaimed miss perceval, affectedly, "how can you talk of such unpleasant things!--there is an act of parliament against cruelty to animals, so of course no such thing exists now. many gentlemen are vastly kind to old horses, turning them out to grass for years, that they may enjoy a life of elegant leisure and rural retirement, to which, no doubt, some are well entitled; for instance, the famous horse eclipse, which gained his owner â£25,000! i wish he had been mine!" "but think how many are ruined when one is enriched, and indeed both are ruined in morals and good feeling; therefore i am glad that our sex have never yet taken to the turf. it is bad enough, my dear miss perceval, to see that they have taken to the moors; for were i to say all i think of those amazons who lately killed their six brace of grouse on the 12th of august, they would probably challenge me to single combat. lord rockville says, 'what with gentlemen doing worsted work, and ladies shouldering double-barrelled guns, he scarcely thinks this can be the same world he was born in long ago.'" the carriage, at this moment, began to proceed along the road with such extraordinary rapidity, that there seemed no danger of their following in the dust of any other equipage, and miss perceval became exceedingly alarmed, especially when lady rockville mentioned that this was one of the first times she had been driven by her new coachman, who seemed so very unsteady on his seat, she had felt apprehensive, for some time, that he might be drunk. "a tipsy coachman! dear lady rockville, do let me out! we shall certainly be killed in this crowd of carriages! i can walk home! pray stop him, miss laura! i came to look on at a race, but not to run one myself! this fast driving is like a railroad, only not quite so straight! i do verily believe we are run off with! stop, coachman!--stop!" in spite of all miss perceval's exclamations and vociferations, the carriage flew on with frightful rapidity, though it reeled from side to side of the road, as if it had become intoxicated like the driver himself, who lashed his horses and galloped along, within an inch of hedges and ditches all the way, till at last, having reached the race-course, he pulled up so suddenly and violently, that the horses nearly fell back on their haunches, while he swore at them in the most furious and shocking manner. lady rockville now stood up, and spoke to the coachman very severely on his misconduct, in first driving her so dangerously fast, and then being disrespectful enough to use profane language in her presence, adding, that if he did not conduct himself more properly, she must complain to lord rockville as soon as the carriage returned home. upon hearing this, the man looked exceedingly sulky, and muttered angrily to himself in a tipsy voice, till at last he suddenly threw away the reins, and, rising from the box, he began to scramble his way down, nearly falling to the ground in his haste, and saying, "if your ladyship is not pleased with my driving, you may drive yourself!" after this the intoxicated man staggered towards a drinking-booth not far off, and disappeared, leaving miss perceval perfectly planet-struck with astonishment, and actually dumb during several minutes with wonder, at all she heard and saw. there sat harry, alone on the dicky, behind two spirited blood-horses, foaming at the mouth with the speed at which they had come, and ready to start off again at the slightest hint, while noises on every side were to be heard enough to frighten a pair of hobby-horses. piemen ringing their bells--blind fiddlers playing out of tune--boys calling lists of the horses--drums beating at the starting-post--ballad singers squalling at the full pitch of their voices--horses galloping--grooms quarrelling--dogs barking--and children crying. in the midst of all this uproar, harry unexpectedly observed captain digby on horseback not far off. without losing a moment, he stood up, waving his handkerchief, and calling to beg he would come to the carriage immediately, as they were in want of assistance; and lady rockville told, as soon as he arrived, though hardly able to help laughing while she explained it, the extraordinary predicament they had been placed in. captain digby, upon hearing the story, looked ready to go off like a squib with rage at the offending coachman, and instantly seizing the driving-whip, he desired his servant to hold the horses' heads, while he proceeded towards the drinking-booth, flourishing the long lash in his hand as he went in a most ominous manner. several minutes elapsed, during which harry overheard a prodigious outcry in the tent, and then the drunken coachman was seen reeling away along the road, while captain digby, still brandishing the whip, returned, and mounting the dicky himself, he gathered up the reins, and insisted on driving lady rockville's phaeton for her. before long it was ranged close beside a chariot so full of ladies, it seemed ready to burst, when harry was amused to perceive that peter grey and another boy, who were seated on the rumble behind, had spread a table-cloth on the roof of the carriage, using it for a dining-table, while they all seemed determined to astonish their appetites by the quantity of oysters and sandwiches they ate, and by drinking at the same time large tumblers of porter. lady rockville wished she could have the loan of harry and laura's spirits for an hour or two, when she saw how perfectly bewildered with delight they were on beholding the thousands of eager persons assembled on the race-ground,--jockeys riding about in liveries as gay as tulips--officers in scarlet uniform--red flags fluttering in the breeze--caravans exhibiting pictures of the wildest-looking beasts in the world--bands of music--recruiting parties--fire-eaters, who dined on red-hot pokers--portraits representing pigs fatter than the fattest in the world--giants a head and three pair of shoulders taller than any one else, and little dwarfs, scarcely visible with the naked eye--all of which were shown to children for half price! lady rockville very good naturedly gave harry half-a-crown, promising that, before leaving the race-ground, he should either buy some oranges to lay the dust in his throat after so long a drive, or visit as many shows as he pleased for his half-crown; and they were anxiously discussing what five sights would be worth sixpence each, when a loud hurra was heard, the drums beat, and five horses started off for the first heat. harry stood up in an ecstacy of delight, and spoke loudly in admiration of the jockey on a grey horse, with a pink jacket, who took the lead, and seemed perfectly to fly, as if he need never touch the ground; but harry exclaimed angrily against the next rider, in a yellow dress and green cap, who pulled back his own bay horse, as if he really wished to lose. to laura's astonishment, however, captain digby preferred him, and miss perceval declared in favour of a light-blue jacket and chesnut horse. harry now thought everybody stupid not to agree with him, and called out in the height of his eagerness, "i would bet this half-crown upon the pink jacket!" "done!" cried peter, laughing. "the yellow dress and green cap for my money!" "then i shall soon have five shillings!" exclaimed harry in great glee; but scarcely had he spoken, before a loud murmuring sound arose among the surrounding crowd, upon hearing which he looked anxiously about, and was astonished to see the green cap and yellow dress already at the winning-post, while his own favourite grey horse cantered slowly along, far behind all the others, carrying the jockey in the pink jacket, who hung his head, and was bent nearly double, with shame and fatigue. peter grey gave a loud laugh of triumph when he glanced at harry's disappointed angry countenance, and held out his hand for the half-crown, saying, "pay your debt of honour, master harry! it is rather fortunate i won, seeing that not one sixpence had i to have paid you with! not a penny to jingle on a mile-stone. you had more money than wit, and i had more wit than money, so we are well met. did you not see that the grey horse had fallen lame? good-bye, youngster! i shall tell all the giants and wild beasts to expect you another day!" "harry!" said lady rockville, looking gravely at his enraged countenance, "it is a foolish fish that is caught with every bait! i am quite relieved that you lost that money. this is an early lesson against gambling, and no one can ever be rich or happy who becomes fond of it. we were wrong to bring you here at all; and i now see you could easily be led into that dreadful vice, which has caused misery and ruin to thousands of young men. if you had possessed an estate, it would have been thrown away quite as foolishly as the poor half-crown, making you perhaps miserable afterwards for life." "i thought myself quite sure to win!" exclaimed harry, still looking with angry astonishment after peter, who was making odd grimaces, and holding up the half-crown in a most teazing manner. "i would rather have thrown my money into the sea than given it to peter." "think, too, how many pleasanter and better ways there are, in which you might have spent it!" added lady rockville. "look at that poor blind man whom you could have relieved, or consider what a nice present you should have given to laura! but there seem to be no more brains in your head, harry, than in her thimble!" "peter is quite a little black-leg already," observed miss perceval. "i never saw such a boy! so fond of attracting notice, that he would put on a cap and bells if that would make him stared at. last saturday he undertook for a bet to make a ceremonious bow to every lamp-post along prince's street, and i wish you could have seen the wondering crowd that gradually collected as he went along, performing his task with the most perfect composure and impudence." "for cool assurance, i hope there are not many boys equal to him," said lady rockville. "he scattered out of the window lately several red-hot half-pence, among some beggars, and i am told they perfectly stuck to the poor creatures' fingers when trying to pick them up; and he was sent a message, on his pony, one very cold day lately, to lady de vere's, who offered, when he was taking leave, to cut him one of her finest camellias, to which he replied, 'i would much rather you offered me a hot potatoe!'" "peter feels no sympathy in your disappointment, harry," added miss perceval; "but we might as well expect wool on a dog, as friendship from a gambler, who would ruin his own father, and always laughs at those who lose." "go and cut your wisdom teeth, harry!" said captain digby, smiling. "any one must have been born blind not to observe that the grey horse was falling behind; but you have bought half-a-crown's worth of wisdom by experience, and i hope it will last for life. never venture to bet even that your own head is on your shoulders, or it may turn out a mistake." "harry is now the monkey that has seen the world, and i think it will be a whole year of saturdays before he ever commits such a blunder again," continued lady rockville. "we must for this once, not complain of what has occurred to lady harriet, because she would be exceedingly displeased, but certainly you are a most ingenious little gentleman for getting into scrapes!" harry told upon himself, however, on his return home, because he had always been accustomed to do so, knowing major graham and his grandmama were never very angry at any fault that was confessed and repented of, therefore he went straight up stairs, and related his whole history to uncle david, who gave him a very serious exhortation against the foolish and sinful vice of gambling. to keep him in mind of his silly adventure that day, harry was also desired, during the whole evening, to wear his coat turned inside out, a very frequent punishment administered by major graham for small offences, and which was generally felt to be a terrible disgrace. chapter xiv. the unexpected event. his shout may ring upon the hill, his voice be echoed in the hall, his merry laugh like music trill, i scarcely notice such things now. willis. some weeks after frank had left home, while lady harriet and major graham were absent at holiday house, harry and laura felt surprised to observe, that mrs. crabtree suddenly became very grave and silent,--her voice seemed to have lost half its loudness,--her countenance looked rather pale,--and they both escaped being scolded on several occasions, when harry himself could not but think he deserved it. once or twice he ventured to do things that at other times he dared not have attempted, "merely as an experiment," he said, "like that man in the menagerie, who put his head into the lion's mouth, without feeling quite sure whether it would be bit off the next moment or not;" but though mrs. crabtree evidently saw all that passed, she turned away with a look of sadness, and said not a word. what could be the matter? harry almost wished she would fly into a good passion and scold him, it became so extraordinary and unnatural to see mrs. crabtree sitting all day in a corner of the room, sewing in silence, and scarcely looking up from her work; but still the wonder grew, for she seemed to become worse and worse every day. harry dressed up the cat in an old cap and frock of laura's,--he terrified old jowler by putting him into the shower-bath,--and let off a few crackers at the nursery window,--but it seemed as if he might have fired a cannon without being scolded by mrs. crabtree, who merely turned her head round for a minute, and then silently resumed her work. laura even fancied that mrs. crabtree was once in tears, but that seemed quite impossible, so she thought no more about it, till one morning, when they had begun to despair of ever hearing more about the business, and were whispering together in a corner of the room, observing that she looked duller than ever, they were surprised to hear mrs. crabtree calling them both to come near her. she looked very pale, and was beginning to say something, when her voice suddenly became so husky and indistinct, that she seemed unable to proceed; therefore, motioning with her hand for them to go away, she began sewing very rapidly, as she had done before, breaking her threads, and pricking her fingers, at every stitch. laura and harry silently looked at each other with some apprehension, and the nursery now became so perfectly still, that a feather falling on the ground would have been heard. this had continued for some time, when at last laura upon tiptoe stole quietly up to where mrs. crabtree was sitting, and said to her, in a very kind and anxious voice, "i am afraid you are not well, mrs. crabtree! grandmama will send for a doctor when she comes home. shall i ask her?" "you are very kind, miss laura!--never mind me! your grandmama knows what is the matter. it will be all one a hundred years hence," answered mrs. crabtree, in a low husky voice. "this is a thing you will be very glad to hear!--you must prepare to be told some good news!" added she, forcing a laugh, but such a laugh as harry and laura never heard before, for it sounded so much more like sorrow than joy. they waited in great suspense to hear what would follow, but mrs. crabtree, after struggling to speak again with composure, suddenly started off her seat, and hurried rapidly out of the room. she appeared no more in the nursery that day, but next morning when they were at breakfast, she entered the room with her face very much covered up in her bonnet, and evidently tried to speak in her usual loud bustling voice, though somehow it still sounded perfectly different from common. "well, children! lady harriet was so kind as to promise that my secret should be kept till i pleased, and that no one should mention it to you but myself. i am going away!" "you!" exclaimed harry, looking earnestly in mrs. crabtree's face. "are you going away?" "yes, master harry,--i leave this house to-day! now, don't pretend to look sorry! i know you are not! i can't bear children to tell stories. who would ever be sorry for a cross old woman like me?" "but perhaps i am sorry! are you in real earnest going away?" asked harry again, with renewed astonishment. "oh no! it is only a joke!" "do i look as if this were a joke?" asked mrs. crabtree, turning round her face, which was bathed with tears. "no, no! i am come to bid you both a long farewell. a fine mess you will get into now! all your things going to rack and ruin, with nobody fit to look after them!" "but, mrs. crabtree! we do not like you to go away," said laura, kindly. "why are you leaving us all on a sudden? it is very odd! i never was so surprised in my life!" "your papa's orders are come. he wrote me a line some weeks ago, to say that i have been too severe. perhaps that is all true. i meant it well, and we are poor creatures, who can only act for the best. however, it can't be helped now! there's no use in lamenting over spilt cream. you'll be the better behaved afterwards. if ever you think of me again, children, let it be as kindly as possible. many and many a time i shall remember you both. i never cared for any young people but yourselves, and i shall never take charge of any others. master frank was the best boy in the world, and you would both have been as good under my care,--but it is no matter now!" "but it does matter a very great deal," cried harry, eagerly. "you must stay here, mrs. crabtree, as long as you live, and a great deal longer! i shall write a letter to papa all about it. we were very troublesome, and it was our own faults if we were punished. never mind, mrs. crabtree, but take off your bonnet and sit down! i am going to do some dreadful mischief to-night, so you will be wanted to keep me in order." mrs. crabtree laid her hand upon harry's head in silence, and there was something so solemn and serious in her manner, that he saw it would be useless to remonstrate any more. she then held out her hand to laura, endeavouring to smile as she did so, but it was a vain attempt, for her lip quivered, and she turned away, saying, "who would ever believe i should make such a fool of myself! farewell to you both! and let nobody speak ill of me after i am gone, if you can help it!" without looking round, mrs. crabtree hurried out of the nursery and closed the door, leaving harry and laura perfectly bewildered with astonishment at this sudden event, which seemed more like a dream than a reality. they both felt exceedingly melancholy, hardly able to believe that she had formerly been at all cross, while they stood at the window with tears in their eyes, watching the departure of her well-known blue chest, on a wheel-barrow, and taking a last look of her red gown and scarlet shawl as she hastily followed it. for several weeks to come, whenever the door opened, harry and laura almost expected her to enter, but month after month elapsed, and mrs. crabtree appeared no more, till one day, at their earnest entreaty, lady harriet took them a drive of some miles into the country, to see the neat little lodging by the sea-side where she lived, and maintained herself by sewing, and by going out occasionally as a sick-nurse. a more delightful surprise certainly never could have been given than when harry and laura tapped at the cottage door, which was opened by mrs. crabtree herself, who started back with an exclamation of joyful amazement, and looked as if she could scarcely believe her eyes on beholding them, while they laughed at the joke till tears were running down their cheeks. "is mrs. crabtree at home?" said harry, trying to look very grave. "grandmama says we may stay here for an hour, while she drives along the shore," added laura, stepping into the house with a very merry face. "and how do you do, mrs. crabtree?" "very well, miss laura, and very happy to see you. what a tall girl you are become! and master harry too! looking quite over his own shoulders!" after sitting some time, mrs. crabtree insisted on their having some dinner in her cottage; so making harry and laura sit down on each side of a large blazing fire, she cooked some most delicious pancakes for them in rapid succession, as fast as they could eat, tossing them high in the air first, and then rolling up each as it was fried, with a large spoonful of jam in the centre, till harry and laura at last said, that unless mrs. crabtree supplied fresh appetites, she need make no more pancakes, for they thought even peter grey himself could scarcely have finished all she provided. harry had now been several months constantly attending school, where he became a great favourite with the boys, and a great torment to the masters, while, for his own part, he liked it twenty times better than he had expected, because the lessons were tolerably easy to a clever boy, as he really was, and the games at cricket and foot-ball in the play-ground put him perfectly wild with joy. every boy at school seemed to be his particular friend, and many called him "the holiday-maker," because, if ever a holiday was wished for, harry always became leader in the scheme. the last morning of peter grey's appearing at school, he got the name of "the copper captain," because mr. lexicon having fined him half-a-crown, for not knowing one of his lessons, he brought the whole sum in half-pence, carrying them in his hat, and gravely counting them all out, with such a pains-taking, good-boy look, that any one, to see him, would have supposed he was quite penitent and sorry for his misconduct; but no sooner had he finished the task and ranged all the half-pence neatly in rows along mr. lexicon's desk, than he was desired, in a voice of thunder, to leave the room instantly, and never to return, which accordingly he never did, having started next day on the top of the coach for portsmouth, and the last peep harry got of him, he was buying a perfect mountain of gingerbread out of an old man's basket, to eat by the way. meantime laura had lessons from a regular day-governess, who came every morning at seven, and never disappeared till four in the afternoon, so, as mrs. crabtree remarked, "the puir thing was perfectly deaved wi' edication," but she made such rapid progress, that uncle david said it would be difficult to decide whether she was growing fastest in body or in mind. laura seemed born to be under the tuition of none but ill-tempered people, and madame pirouette appeared in a constant state of irritability. during the music-lessons, she sat close to the piano, with a pair of sharp-pointed scissors in her hand, and whenever laura played a wrong note, she stuck their points into the offending finger, saying sometimes in an angry foreign accent, "put your toe upon 'dis note! i tell you, put your toe upon 'dis note!" "my finger, i suppose you mean?" asked laura, trying not to laugh. "ah! fingare and toe! dat is all one! speak not a word! take hold of your tongue." "laura!" said major graham, one day, "i would as soon hear a gong sounded at my ear for half an hour, as most of the fine pieces you perform now. taste and expression are quite out of date, but the chief object of ambition is, to seem as if you had four hands instead of two, from the torrent of notes produced at once. if ever you wish to please my old-fashioned ears, give me melody,--something that touches the heart and dwells in the memory,--then years afterwards, when we hear it again, the language seems familiar to our feelings, and we listen with deep delight to sounds recalling a thousand recollections of former days, which are brought back by music (real music) with distinctness and interest which nothing else can equal." during more than two years, while harry and laura were rapidly advancing in education, they received many interesting letters from frank, expressing the most affectionate anxiety to hear of their being well and happy, while his paper was filled with amusing accounts of the various wonderful countries he visited; and at the bottom of the paper, he always very kindly remembered to send them an order on his banker, as he called uncle david, drawn up in proper form, saying, "please to pay master harry and miss laura graham the sum of five shillings on my account. francis arthur graham." in frank's gay, merry epistles, he kept all his little annoyances or vexations to himself, and invariably took up the pen with such a desire to send cheerfulness into his own beloved home, that his letters might have been written with a sun-beam, they were so full of warmth and vivacity. it seemed always a fair wind to frank, for he looked upon the best side of every thing, and never teazed his absent friends with complaints of distresses they could not remedy, except when he frequently mentioned his sorrow at being separated from them, adding, that he often wished it were possible to meet them during one day in every year, to tell all his thoughts, and to hear theirs in return, for sometimes now, during the night watches, when all other resources failed, he entertained himself, by imagining the circle of home all gathered around him, and by inventing what each individual would say upon any subjects he liked, while all his adventures acquired a double interest, from considering that the recital would one day amuse his dear friends when their happy meeting at last took place. frank was not so over-anxious about his own comfort, as to feel very much irritated and discomposed at any privations that fell in his way, and once sitting up in the middle of a dark night, with the rain pouring in torrents, and the wind blowing a perfect hurricane, he drew his watch-coat round him, saying good humouredly to his grumbling companions, "this is by no means so bad! and whatever change takes place now, will probably be for the better. sunshine is as sure to come as christmas, if you only wait for it, and in the meantime we are all more comfortably off than st. patrick, when he had to swim across a stormy sea, with his head under his arm." frank often amused his messmates with stories which he had heard from uncle david, and soon became the greatest favourite imaginable with them all, while he frequently endeavoured to lead their minds to the same sure foundation of happiness which he always found the best security of his own. he had long been taught to know that a vessel might as well be steered without rudder or compass, as any individual be brought into a haven of peace, unless directed by the holy scriptures; and his delight was frequently to study such passages as these: "when thou passest through the waters, i will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. for i am the lord thy god, the holy one of israel, thy saviour." chapter xv. an unexpected voyage. full little know'st thou, that hast not tried, how strange it is in "steam-boat" long to bide,- to fret thy soul with crosses and with cares, to eat thy heart through comfortless despairs, to speed to-day--to be put back to-morrow- to feed on hope--to pine with fear and sorrow. spenser. as harry and laura grew older, they were gradually treated like friends and companions by lady harriet and major graham, who improved their minds by frequent interesting conversations, in which knowledge and principle were insensibly instilled into their minds, not by formal instruction, but merely by mentioning facts, or expressing opinions and sentiments such as naturally arose out of the subjects under discussion, and accustoming the young people themselves to feel certain that their own remarks and thoughts were to be heard with the same interest as those of any other person. no surprise was expressed, if they appeared more acute or more amusing than might have been expected,--no angry contempt betrayed itself if they spoke foolishly, unless it were something positively wrong; and thus major graham and lady harriet succeeded in making that very difficult transition from treating children as toys, to becoming their confidential friends, and most trusted, as well as most respected and beloved associates. frank had been upwards of five years cruizing on various stations abroad, and many officers who had seen him, gave such agreeable reports to major graham of his admirable conduct on several occasions, and of his having turned out so extremely handsome and pleasing, that lady harriet often wished, with tears in her eyes, it were possible she might live to see him once again, though her own daily increasing infirmities rendered that hope every hour more improbable. she was told that he spoke of her very frequently, and said once when he met an aged person at the cape, "i would give all i possess on earth, and ten times more, if i had it, to see my dear grandmother as well, and to meet her once more." this deeply affected lady harriet, who was speaking one day with unusual earnestness of the comfort it gave, whatever might be the will of providence in respect to herself, that frank seemed so happy, and liked his profession so well, when the door flew open, and andrew hastened into the room, his old face perfectly wrinkled with delight, while he displayed a letter in his hand, saying in a tone of breathless agitation, as he delivered it to major graham, "the post-mark is portsmouth, sir!" lady harriet nearly rose from her seat with an exclamation of joy, but unable for the exertion, she sunk back, covering her face with her hands, and listening in speechless suspense to hear whether frank had indeed returned. harry and laura eagerly looked over major graham's shoulder, and andrew lingered anxiously at the door, till this welcome letter was hurriedly torn open and read. the direction was certainly frank's writing, though it seemed very different from usual, but the contents filled major graham with a degree of consternation and alarm, which he vainly endeavoured to conceal, for it informed him that, during a desperate engagement with some slave-ships off the coast of africa, frank had been most severely wounded, from which he scarcely recovered before a violent attack of fever reduced him so extremely, that the doctors declared his only chance of restoration was to be invalided home immediately; "therefore," added he, "you must all unite a prayer for my recovery, with a thanksgiving for my return, and i can scarcely regret an illness that restores me to home. my heart is already with you all, but my frail shattered body must rest some days in london, as the voyage from sierra leone has been extremely fatiguing and tedious." lady harriet made not a single remark when this letter was closed, but tears coursed each other rapidly down her aged cheeks, while she slowly removed her hands from her face, and gazed at major graham, who seated himself by her side, in evident agitation, and calling back andrew when he was leaving the room, he said, in accents of unusual emotion, "desire john to inquire immediately whether any steam-boat sails for london to-day." "you are right!" said lady harriet, feebly. "oh! that i could accompany you! but bring him to me if possible. i dare not hope to go. surely we shall meet at last. now indeed i feel my own weakness, when i cannot fly to see him. but he will be quite able for the journey. frank had an excellent constitution,--he--he was--" lady harriet's voice failed, and she burst into a convulsive agony of tears. a few hours, and uncle david had embarked for london, where, after a short passage, he arrived at his usual lodgings in st. james' place; but some days elapsed, during which he laboured in vain to discover the smallest trace of frank, who had omitted, in his hurried letter from portsmouth, to mention where he intended living in town. one evening, fatigued with his long and unavailing search, major graham sat down, at the british coffee-house, to take some refreshment before resuming his inquiries, and was afterwards about to leave the room, when he observed a very tall interesting young man, exceedingly emaciated, who strolled languidly into the room, with so feeble a step, that he scarcely seemed able to support himself. the stranger took off his hat, sunk into a seat, and passed his fingers through the dark masses of curls that hung over his pale white forehead, his large eyes closed heavily with fatigue, his cheek assumed a hectic glow, and his head sunk upon his hand. in a low subdued voice he gave some directions to the waiter, and major graham, after gazing for a moment with melancholy interest at this apparently consumptive youth, was about to depart, when a turn of the young man's countenance caused him to start; he looked again more earnestly--every fibre of his frame seemed suddenly to thrill with apprehension, and at last, in a voice of doubt and astonishment, he exclaimed, "frank!" the stranger sprung from his seat, gazed eagerly round the room, rushed into the arms of major graham, and fainted. long and anxiously did uncle david watch for the restoration of frank, while every means were used to revive him, and when at length he did regain his consciousness, no time was lost in conveying him to st. james' place, where, after being confined to bed, and attended by sir astley cooper and sir henry halford, during some days, they united in recommending that he should be carried some miles out of town, to the neighbourhood of hammersmith, for change of air, till the effect of medicine and diet could be fully tried. frank earnestly entreated that he might be taken immediately to his own home, but this the doctors pronounced quite impossible, privately hinting to major graham that it seemed very doubtful indeed whether he could ever be moved there at all, or whether he might survive above a few months. "home is anywhere that my own family live with me," said frank in a tone of resignation, when he heard a journey to scotland pronounced impossible. "it is not where i am, but who i see, that signifies; and this meeting with you, uncle david, did me more good than an ocean of physic. oh! if i could only converse with grandmama for half-an-hour, and speak to dear harry and laura, it would be too much happiness. i want to see how much they are both grown, and to hear their merry laugh again. perhaps i never may! but if i get worse, they must come here. i have many things to say! why should they not set off now?--immediately! if i recover, we might be such a happy party to scotland again. for grandmama, i know it is impossible; but will you write and ask her about harry and laura? the sooner the better, uncle david, because i often think it probable----" frank coloured and hesitated; he looked earnestly at his uncle for some moments, who saw what was meant, and then added, "there is one person more, far distant, and little thinking of what is to come, who must be told. you have always been a father to me, uncle david, but he also would wish to be here now. little as we have been together, i know how much he loves me." frank's request became no sooner known than it was complied with by lady harriet, who thought it better not to distress harry and laura, by mentioning the full extent of his danger, but merely said, that he felt impatient for the meeting, and that they might prepare on the following day, to embark under charge of old andrew and her own maid harrison, for a voyage to london, where she hoped they would find the dear invalid already better; laura was astonished at the agitation with which she spoke, and felt bewildered and amazed by this sudden announcement. she and harry had once or twice in their lives caught cold, and spent a day in bed, confined to a diet of gruel and syrup, which always proved an infallible remedy for the very worst attacks, and they had frequently witnessed the severe sufferings of their grandmama, from which, however, she always recovered, and which seemed to them the natural effects of her extreme old age; but to imagine the possibility of frank's life being in actual danger, never crossed their thoughts for an instant, and, therefore, it was with a feeling of unutterable joy that they stood on the deck of the royal pandemonium, knowing that they were now actually going to meet frank. nothing could be a greater novelty to both the young travellers than the scene by which they were now surrounded; trumpets were sounding--bells ringing--children crying--sailors, passengers, carriages, dogs, and baggage all hurrying on board pell-mell, while a jet of steam came bellowing forth from the waste-pipe, as if it were struggling to get rid of the huge column of black smoke vomited forth by the chimney. below stairs they were still more astonished to find a large cabin, covered with gilding, red damask, and mirrors, where crowds of strange-looking people, more than half sick, and very cross, were scolding and bustling about, bawling for their carpet bags, and trying to be of as much consequence as possible, while they ate and drank trash, to keep off sea-sickness, that might have made any one sick on shore--sipping brandy and water, or eating peppermint drops, according as the case required. among those in the ladies' cabin, laura and harry were amused to discover miss perceval, who had hastened into bed already, in case of being ill, and was talking unceasingly to any one who would listen, besides ordering and scolding a poor sick maid, scarcely able to stand. her head was enveloped in a most singular night-cap, ornamented with old ribbons and artificial flowers--she wore a bright yellow shawl, and had taken into the berth beside her, a little blenheim spaniel--a parrot--and a cage of canary birds, the noisy inhabitants of which sung at the full pitch of their voices till the very latest hour of the night, being kept awake by the lamp which swung from side to side, while nothing could be compared to their volubility except the perpetual clamour occasioned by miss perceval herself. "i declare these little narrow beds are no better than coffins! i never saw such places! and the smell is like singed blankets and cabbages boiled in melted oil! it is enough to make anybody ill! mary! go and fetch me a cup of tea, and, do you hear! tell those people on deck not to make such a noise--it gives me a headache! be sure you say that i shall complain to the captain. reach me some bread and milk for the parrot,--fetch my smelling bottle,--go to the saloon for that book i was reading,--and search again for the pocket-handkerchief i mislaid. it cost ten guineas, and must be found. i hope no one has stolen it! now do make haste with the tea! what are you dawdling there for? if you do not stop that noise on deck, mary, i shall be exceedingly displeased! some of those horrid people in the steerage were smoking too, but tell the captain that if i come up he must forbid them. it is a trick to make us all sick and save provisions. i observed a gun-case in the saloon too, which is a most dangerous thing, for guns always go off when you least expect. if any one fires, i shall fall into hysterics. i shall, indeed! what a creaking noise the vessel makes! i hope there is no danger of its splitting! we ought not to go on sailing after dusk. the captain must positively cast anchor during the night, that we may have no more of this noise or motion, but sleep in peace and quietness till morning." soon after the royal pandemonium had set sail, or rather set fire, the wind freshened, and the pitching of the vessel became so rough, that harry and laura, with great difficulty, staggered to seats on the deck, leaving both lady harriet's servants so very sick below, that instead of being able to attend on them, they gave nine times the trouble that any other passenger did on board, and were not visible again during the whole voyage. the two young travellers now sat down together, and watched, with great curiosity, several groups of strangers on deck: ladies, half sick, trying to entertain gentlemen in seal-skin travelling caps and pale cadaverous countenances, smoking cigars; others opening baskets of provisions, and eating with good sea-faring appetite; while one party had a carriage on the deck so filled with luxuries of every kind, that there seemed no end to the multitude of perigord pies, german sausages, cold fowls, pastry, and fruit that were produced during the evening. the owners had a table spread on the deck, and ate voraciously, before a circle of hungry spectators, which had such an appearance of selfishness and gluttony, that both his young friends thought immediately of peter grey. as evening closed in, harry and laura began to feel very desolate thus for the first time in their lives alone, while the wide waste of waters around made the scene yet more forlorn. they had enjoyed unmingled delight in talking over and over about their happy meeting with frank, and planned a hundred times how joyfully they would rush into the house, and with what pleasure they would relate all that happened to themselves, after hearing from his own mouth the extraordinary adventures which his letters had described. laura produced from her reticule several of the last she had received, and laughed again over the funny jokes and stories they contained, inventing many new questions to ask him on the subject, and fancying she already heard his voice, and saw his bright and joyous countenance. but now the night had grown so dark and chilly, that both harry and laura felt themselves gradually becoming cold, melancholy, and dejected. they made an effort to walk arm-in-arm up and down the deck, in imitation of the few other passengers who had been able to remain out of bed, and they tried still to talk cheerfully, but in spite of every effort, their thoughts became mournful. after clinging together for some time, and staggering up and down, without feeling in spirits to speak, they were still shiveringly cold, yet unwilling to separate for the night, when harry suddenly stood still, grasping laura's arm with a look of startled astonishment, which caused her hastily to glance round in the direction where he was eagerly gazing, but nothing became visible except the dim outline of a woman's figure, rolled up in several enormous shawls, and with her bonnet slouched far over her face. "i am certain it was her!" whispered harry, in a tone of breathless amazement; "almost certain!" "who?" asked laura, eagerly. without answering, harry sprung forward, and seized the unknown person by the arm, who instantly looked round.----it was mrs. crabtree! "i am sorry you observed me, master harry! i did not intend to trouble you and miss laura during the voyage," said she, turning her face slowly towards him, when, to his surprise, he saw that the traces of tears were on her cheek, and her manner appeared so subdued, and altogether so different from former times, that laura could scarcely yet credit her senses. "i shall not be at all in your way, children, but i ------i must see master frank again. he was always too good for this world, and he'll not be here long--andrew told me all about it, and i could not stay behind. i wish we were all as well prepared, and then the sooner we die the better." harry and laura listened in speechless consternation to these words. the very idea of losing frank had never before crossed their imaginations for a moment, and they could have wished to believe that what mrs. crabtree said was like the ravings of delirium, yet an irresistible feeling of awe and alarm rushed into their minds. "miss laura! if you want any help in undressing, call to me at any time. i was sure that doited body harrison could be of no service. she never was fit to take care of herself, and far less of such as you. it put me wild to think of your coming all this way with nobody fit to look after you, and then the distress that must follow." "but surely, mrs. crabtree, you do not think frank so very ill," asked laura, making an effort to recover her voice, and speaking in a tone of deep anxiety; "he had recovered from the fever, but is only rather too weak for travelling." "well, miss laura! grief always comes too soon, and i would have held my tongue had i thought you did not know the worst already. if i might order as in former days, it would be to send you both down directly, out of this heavy fog and cold wind." "but you may order us, mrs. crabtree," said harry, taking her kindly by the hand; "we are very glad to see you again! and i shall do whatever you bid me! so you came all this way on purpose for us! how very kind!" "master harry, i would go round the wide world to serve any one of you! who else have i to care for? but it was chiefly to see master frank. let us hope the best, and pray to be prepared for any event that may come. all things are ordained for good, and we can only make the best of what happens. the world must go round,--it must go round, and we can't prevent it." harry and laura hung their heads in dismay, for there was something agitated and solemn in mrs. crabtree's manner, which astonished and shocked them, so they hurried silently to bed; and laura's pillow was drenched with tears of anxiety and distress that night, though gradually, as she thought of frank's bright colour and sparkling eyes, his joyous spirits and unbroken health, it seemed impossible that all were so soon to fade away, that the wind should have already passed over them, and they were gone, till by degrees her mind became more calm; her hopes grew into certainties; she told herself twenty times over, that mrs. crabtree must be entirely mistaken, and at last sunk into a restless agitated slumber. next day the sun shone, the sky was clear, and every thing appeared so full of life and joy, that harry and laura would have fancied the whole scene with mrs. crabtree a distressing dream, had they not been awakened to recollection before six in the morning, by the sound of her voice, angrily rebuking miss perceval and other ladies, who with too good reason, were grumbling at the hardship of sleeping, or rather vainly attempting to sleep, in such narrow uncomfortable dog-holes. laura heard mrs. crabtree conclude an eloquent oration on the subject of contentment, by saying, "indeed, ladies! many a brave man, and noblemen's sons too, have laid their heads on the green grass, fighting for you, so we should put up with a hard bed patiently for one night." miss perceval turned angrily away, and summoned her maid to receive a multitude of new directions. "mary, tell the captain that when i looked out last, there was scarcely any smoke coming out of the funnel, so i am sure he is saving fuel, and not keeping good enough fires to carry us on! i never knew such shabbiness! tell the engineer, that i insist on his throwing on more coals immediately. bring me some hot water, as fast as possible! these towels are so coarse, i cannot, on any account, use them. after being accustomed to such pocket-handkerchiefs as mine, at ten guineas each, one does become particular. can you not find a larger basin? this looks like a soup-plate, and it seems impossible here to get enough of hot water to wash comfortably." "she should be put into the boiler of the steam-boat," muttered mrs. crabtree. "i wish them animal-magnifying doctors would put the young lady to sleep till we arrive in london." "now!" continued miss perceval, "get me another cup of tea. the last was too sweet, the one before not strong enough, and the first half cold, but this is worse than any. do remember to mention, that yesterday night the steward sent up a tin tea-pot, a thing i cannot possibly suffer again. we must have the urn, too, instead of that black tea-kettle; and desire him to prepare some butter-toast--i am not hungry, so three rounds will be enough. let me have some green tea this time; and see that the cream is better than last night, when i am certain it was thickened with chalk or snails. the jelly, too, was execrable, for it tasted like sticking-plaster--i shall starve if better can't be had; and the table-cloth looked like a pair of old sheets. tell the steward all this, and say, he must get my breakfast ready on deck in half an hour; but meantime, i shall sit here with a book while you brush my hair." the sick persecuted maid seemed anxious to do all she was bid; so, after delivering as many of the messages as possible, she tried to stand up and do miss perceval's hair, but the motion of the vessel had greatly increased, and she turned as pale as death, apparently on the point of sinking to the ground, when laura, now quite dressed, quietly slipped the brush out of her hand, and carefully brushed miss perceval's thin locks, while poor mary silently dropped upon a seat, being perfectly faint with sickness. miss perceval read on, without observing the change of abigails, till harry, who had watched this whole scene from the cabin-door, made a hissing noise, such as grooms do when they currycomb a horse, which caused the young lady to look hastily round, when great was miss perceval's astonishment to discover her new abigail, with a very pains-taking look, brushing her hair, while poor mary lay more dead than alive on the benches. "well! i declare! was there ever anything so odd!" she exclaimed in a voice of amazement. "how very strange! what can be the matter with mary! there is no end to the plague of servants!" "or rather to the plague of mistresses!" thought laura, while she glanced from miss perceval's round, red bustling face, to the poor suffering maid, who became worse and worse during the day, for there came on what sailors call "a capful of wind," which gradually rose to a "stiff breeze," or, what the passengers considered a hurricane; and, towards night, it attained the dignity of a real undeniable "storm." a scene of indescribable tumult then ensued. the captain attempted to make his voice heard above the roaring tempest, using a torrent of unintelligible nautical phrases, and an incessant volley of very intelligible oaths. the sailors flew about, and every plank in the vessel seemed creaking and straining, but high above all, the shrill tones of miss perceval were audibly heard, exclaiming, "are there enough of 'hands' on board? is there any danger? are you sure the boiler will not burst? i wish steam-boats had never been invented! people are sure to be blown up to the clouds, or sunk to the bottom of the ocean, or scalded to death like so many lobsters. i cannot stand this any longer! stop the ship, and set me on shore instantly!" laura clung closer to harry, and felt that they were like two mere pigmies, amid the wide waste of waters, rolling and tossing around them, while his spirits, on the contrary, rose to the highest pitch of excitement with all he heard and saw, till at length, wishing to enjoy more of the "fun," he determined to venture above board. by the time harry's nose was on a level with the deck, he gazed around, and saw that not a person appeared visible except two sailors, both lashed to the helm, while all was silent now, except the deafening noise made by the wild waves and the stormy blast, which seemed as if it would blow his teeth down his throat. harry thought the two men looked no larger than mice in such a scene, and stood, clinging to the bannisters, perfectly entranced with astonishment and admiration at the novelty of all he saw, and thinking how often frank must have been in such scenes, when suddenly a wave washed quite over the deck, and he felt his arm grasped by mrs. crabtree, who desired him to come down immediately, in a tone of authority which he did not even yet feel bold enough to disobey; therefore, slowly and reluctantly he descended to the cabin, where the only living thing that seemed well enough to move, was miss perceval's tongue. "steward!" she cried, in sharp angry accents. "steward! here is water pouring down the sky-lights like a shower-bath! look at my band-box swimming on the floor! mary! tiresome creature! don't you see that? my best bonnet will be destroyed! send the captain here! he must positively stop that noise on deck; it is quite intolerable. my head aches, as if it would burst like the boiler of a steam-boat! stupid man! can't he put into some port, or cast anchor? how can he keep us all uncomfortable in this way! mary! mary, i say! are you deaf? steward! send one of the sailors here to take care of this dog! i declare poor frisk is going to be sick! mary! mary! this is insufferable! i wish the captain would come and help me to scold my maid! i shall certainly give you warning, mary." this awful threat had but little effect on one who thought herself on the brink of being buried beneath the waves, besides being too sick to care whether she died the next minute or not; and even miss perceval's voice became drowned at last in the tremendous storm which raged throughout the night, during which the captain rather increased laura's panic, if that were possible, by considerately putting his head into the cabin now and then to say, "don't be afraid, ladies! there is no danger!" "but i must come up and see what you are about, captain!" exclaimed miss perceval. "you had better be still, ma'am," replied mrs. crabtree. "it is as well to be drowned in bed as on deck." nothing gives a more awful idea of the helplessness of man, and the wrath of god, than a tempestuous sea during the gloom of midnight; and every mind on board became awed into silence and solemnity during this war of elements, till at length, towards morning, while the hurricane seemed yet raging with undiminished fury, laura suddenly gave an exclamation of rapture, on hearing a sailor at the helm begin to sing tom bowling. "now i feel sure the danger is over," said she, "otherwise that man could not have the heart to sing! if i live a century, i shall always like a sailor's song for the future." it is seldom that any person's thankfulness after danger bears a fair proportion to the fear they felt while it lasted; but harry and laura had been taught to remember where their gratitude was due, and felt it the more deeply next day, when they entered the yarmouth roads, and were shewn the masts of several vessels, appearing partly above the water, which had on various occasions, been lost in that wilderness of shoals, where so many melancholy catastrophes have occurred. after sailing up the thames, and duly staring at greenwich hospital, the hulks, and the tower of london, they landed at last; and having offered mrs. crabtree a place in the hackney coach, they hurried impatiently into it, eager for the happy moment of meeting with frank. harry, in his ardour, thought that no carriage had ever driven so slowly before. he wished there had been a rail-road through the town; and far from wasting a thought upon the novelties of holborn or piccadilly, he and laura gained no idea of the metropolis, more distinct than that of the irishman who complained he could not see london for the quantity of houses. one only idea filled their hearts, and brightened their countenances, while they looked at each other with a smile of delight, saying, "now, at last, we are going to see frank!" chapter xvi. the arrival. what is life?----a varied tale, deeply moving, quickly told. willis. "oh! what a lovely cottage!" exclaimed laura, in an ecstacy of joy, when they stopped before a beautiful house, with large airy windows down to the ground; walls that seemed one brilliant mass of roses; rich flowery meadows in front, and a bright smooth lawn behind, stretching down to the broad bosom of the thames, which reflected on its glassy surface innumerable boats, filled with gay groups of merry people. "that is such a place as i have often dreamed of, but never saw before! it seems made for perfect happiness!" "yes! how delightful to live here with frank and uncle david!" added harry. "we shall be sailing on the water all day!" the cottage gate was now opened, and major graham himself appeared under the porch; but instead of hurrying forward, as he always formerly did, to welcome them after the very shortest separation, he stood gravely and silently at the door, without so much as raising his eyes from the ground; and the paleness of his countenance filled both harry and laura with astonishment. they flew to meet him, making an exclamation of joy; but after embracing them affectionately, he did not utter a word, and led the way with hurried and agitated steps into a sitting room. "where is frank?" exclaimed harry, looking eagerly round. "why is he not here? call him down! tell him we are come!" a long pause ensued; and laura trembled when she looked at her uncle, who was some moments before he could speak, and sat down taking each of them by the hand, with such a look of sorrow and commiseration, that they were filled with alarm. "my dear harry and laura!" said he solemnly, "you have never known grief till now, but if you love me, listen with composure. i have sad news to tell, yet it is of the very greatest consequence that you should bear up with fortitude. frank is extremely ill; and the joy he felt about your coming, has agitated him so much, that he is worse than you can possibly conceive. it probably depends upon your conduct now, whether he survives this night or not. frank knows you are here; he is impatient for you to embrace him; he becomes more and more agitated every moment the meeting is delayed; yet if you give way to childish grief, or even to childish joy, upon seeing him again, the doctors think it may cause his immediate death. you might hear his breathing in any part of this house. he is in the lowest extreme of weakness! it will be a dreadful scene for you both. tell me, harry and laura, can you trust yourselves? can you, for frank's own sake, enter his room this moment, as quietly as if you had seen him yesterday, and speak to him with composure?" laura felt, on hearing these words, as if the very earth had opened under her feet,--a choking sensation arose in her throat,--her colour fled,--her limbs shook,--her whole countenance became convulsed with anguish,--but making a resolute effort, she looked anxiously at harry, and then said, in a low, almost inaudible voice, "uncle david! we are able,--god will strengthen us. i dare not think a moment. the sooner it is done the better. let us go now." major graham slowly led the way without speaking, till they reach the bed-room door, where he paused for a moment, while harry and laura listened to the gasping sound of frank struggling for breath. "remember you will scarcely know him," whispered he, looking doubtfully at laura's pallid countenance; "but a single expression of emotion may be fatal. show your love for frank now, my dear children. spare him all agitation,--forget your own feelings for his sake." when harry and laura entered the room, frank buried his face in his hands, and leaned them on the table, saying, in convulsive accents, "go away, laura!--oh go away just now! i cannot bear it yet!--leave me!--leave me!" if laura had been turned into marble at the moment, she could not have seemed more perfectly calm, for her mind was wound up to an almost supernatural effort, and advancing to the place where he sat, without attempting to speak, she took frank by the hand--harry did the same; and not a sound was heard for some moments, but the convulsive struggles of frank himself, while he gasped for breath, and vainly tried to speak, till at length he raised his head and fixed his eyes on laura, who felt then, for the first time, struck with the dreadful conviction, that this meeting was but a prelude to their immediate and final separation. the pale ashy cheek, the hollow eye, the sharp and altered features, all told a tale of anguish such as she had never before conceived, and a cold tremor passed through her frame, as she stood amazed and bewildered with grief, while the past, the present, and the future seemed all one mighty heap of agony. still she gazed steadily on frank, and said nothing, conscious that the smallest indulgence of emotion would bring forth a torrent which nothing could control, and determined, unless her heart ceased to beat, that he should see nothing to increase his agitation. at length, in a low, faint, broken voice, frank was able to speak, and looking with affectionate sympathy at laura, he said, "do not think, dear sister, that i always suffer as you see me now. this joy has been too much for me. i shall soon feel easier." major graham observed a livid paleness come over laura's countenance when she attempted to answer, and seeing it was impossible to sustain the trial a moment longer, he made a pretext to hurry her away. harry instantly followed, and rushing into a vacant room, he threw himself down in an agony of grief, and wept convulsively, till the very bed shook beneath him. hours passed on, and major graham left them to exhaust their grief in weeping together, but every moment seemed only to increase their agitation, as the conviction became more fearfully certain that frank was indeed lost to them for ever. this then was the meeting they had so often, and so joyously anticipated! laura sunk upon her knees beside harry, and prayers were mingled with their tears, while they asked for consolation, and tried to feel resigned. "alas!" thought she solemnly, "how truly did grandmama say, 'if the sorrows of this world are called 'light afflictions,' what must be those from which christ died to save us!' it is merciful that we are not forbid to weep, for, oh! who ever lost such a brother?--the kindest--the best of brothers!--dear, dear frank!--can nothing be done! uncle david!" added laura, clinging to major graham, when he entered the room, "oh! say something to us about frank getting better,--do you think he will? may we have a hope?--one single hope to live upon, that frank may possibly be spared; do not turn away--do not look so very sad--think how young frank is,--and the doctors are so skilful--and--and oh, uncle david! he is dying! i see it! i must believe it!" continued she, wringing her hands with grief. "you cannot give us one word of hope, though the whole world would be nothing without him." "my dear,--my very dear laura! remember that consoling text in holy scripture, 'be still, and know that i am god;'--we have no idea what he can do in saving us from sorrow, or in comforting us when it comes, therefore let us seek peace from him, and believe that all shall indeed be ordered well, even though our own hearts were to be broken with affliction. frank has seen old nurse crabtree, and is now in a refreshing sleep, therefore i wish you to take the opportunity of sitting in his room, and accustoming yourselves, if possible, to the sight of his altered appearance. he is sometimes very cheerful, and always patient, therefore we must keep up our own spirits, and try to assist him in bearing his sufferings, rather than increase them, by showing what we feel ourselves. i was pleased with you both this morning--that meeting was no common effort, and now we must show our submission to the divine will, difficult as that may be, by a deep, heartfelt resignation to whatever he ordains." harry and laura still felt stupified with grief, but they mechanically followed major graham into frank's room, and sat down in a distant corner behind his chair, observing with awe and astonishment his pallid countenance, his emaciated hands, and his drooping figure, while scarcely yet able to believe that this was indeed their own beloved frank. after they had remained immoveably still for some time, though shedding many bitter tears, as they gazed on the wreck of one so very dear, he suddenly started awake, and glanced anxiously round the room, then with a look of deep disappointment, he said to uncle david, in low, feeble accents, "it was only a dream! i have often dreamed the same thing, when far away at sea,--that would have been too much happiness! i fancied harry and laura were here!" "it was no dream, dear frank! we are here," said laura, trying to speak in a quiet, subdued voice. "my dear sister! then all is well! but pray sit always where i can see you. after wishing so long for our meeting, it appears nearly impossible that we are together at last." frank became exhausted with speaking so much, but pointed to a seat near himself, where harry and laura sat down, after which he gazed at them long and earnestly, with a look of affectionate pleasure, while his smile, which had lost all its former cheerfulness, was now full of tenderness and sensibility. at length his countenance gradually changed, while large tears gathered in his eyes, and coursed each other silently down his cheeks. thoughts of the deepest sadness seemed passing through his mind during some moments, but checking the heavy sigh that rose in his breast, he riveted his hands together, and looked towards heaven with an expression of placid submission, saying these words in a scarcely audible tone, though evidently addressed to those around, "weeping endureth for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." "we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle be dissolved, we have a building of god, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." "weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him; _but_ weep sore for him that goeth away: for he shall return no more, nor see his native country."[1] [1] jeremiah xxii. 10. these words fell upon the ear of harry and laura like a knell of death, for they now saw that frank himself believed he was dying, and it appeared as if their last spark of hope expired when they heard this terrible dispensation announced from his own lips. he seemed anxious now that they should understand his full meaning, and receive all the consolation which his mind could afford, for he closed his eyes, and added in solemn accents, "i must have died at some time, and why not now? if i leave friends who are very dear on earth, i go to my chief best friend in heaven. the whole peace and comfort of my mind rest on thinking of our saviour's merits. let us all be ready to say, 'the will of the lord be done.' think often, harry and laura, of those words we so frequently repeated to grandmama formerly: 'take comfort, christians, when your friends in jesus fall asleep, their better being never ends, why then dejected weep? why inconsolable as those to whom no hope is given? death is the messenger of peace, and calls 'my' soul to heaven.'" frank's voice failed, his head fell back upon the pillows, and he remained for a length of time, with his eyes closed in solemn meditation and prayer, while laura and harry, unable so much as to look at each other, leaned upon the table, and wept in silence. laura felt as if she had grown old in a moment,--as if life could give no more joy--and as if she herself stood already on the verge of the grave. it appeared like a dream that she had ever been happy, and a dreadful reality to which she was now awakened. "behold, god taketh away! who can hinder him? who will say unto him, what doest thou?" "cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils." these were texts which forced themselves on her mind, with mournful emphasis, while she felt how helpless is earthly affection when the dispensations of god are upon us. all her love for frank could not avert the stroke of death,--all his attachment to her must now be buried in the grave,--and the very tenderness they felt for each other, only embittered the sorrows of this dreadful moment. from that day, harry and laura, according to the advice of uncle david, testified their affection for frank, not by tears and useless lamentations, though these were not always to be controlled in private, but by the incessant, devoted attention with which they watched his looks, anticipated his wishes, and thought every exertion a pleasure which could in the slightest degree contribute to his comfort. frank, on his part, spared their feelings, by often concealing what he suffered, and by speaking of his own death, as if it had been a journey on which he must prepare with readiness to enter, reminding them, that never to die, was never to be happy, as all they saw him endure from sickness, became nothing to what he endured from struggling against sin and temptation, which were the great evils of existence,--and that from all these he would be for ever freed by death. "those who are prepared for the change," added he, solemnly, "can neither live too long, nor die too soon; for when god gives us his blessing, he then sends heaven, as it were, into the soul before the soul ascends to heaven; and i trust to being gifted with faith and submission for all that may be ordained during my few remaining hours upon earth." yet, with every desire to feel resigned, frank himself was sometimes surprised out of his usual fortitude, especially when thinking that he must never more hope to see lady harriet, towards whom he cast many a longing and affecting thought, saying once, with deep emotion, "if i could only see grandmama again, i should feel quite well!" one evening, as he sat near an open window, gazing on the rich tints of twilight, and breathing with more than usual ease, a wandering musician paused with her guitar, and sung several airs with great pathos and expression. at length she played the tune of "home! sweet home," to which frank listened for some moments with intense agitation, till, clasping his hands and bursting into tears, he exclaimed, in accents of powerful emotion, "home! that happy home! oh! never--never more,--_my_ home is in the grave." laura wept convulsively while he added in broken accents, "i shall still be remembered--still lamented--you must not love me too well, laura,--not as i love you, or your sorrow would be too great; but long hence, when harry and you are happy together, surrounded with friends, think sometimes of one who must for ever be absent,--who loved you better than them all,--whose last prayer will be for you both. oh! who can tell what my feelings are! i can do nothing now but cause distress and anguish to those who love me best!" "frank, i would not exchange your affection for the wealth of worlds. as long as i live, it will be my greatest earthly happiness to have had such a brother; and if we are to suffer a sorrow that i cannot name, and dare not think of, you are teaching me how to bear it, and leaving us the only comfort we can have, in knowing that you are happy." "many plans and many hopes i had for the future, laura," added frank; "but there is no future to me now in this world. perhaps i may escape a multitude of sorrows, but how gladly would i have shared all yours, and ensured my best happiness by uniting with harry and you in living to god. if you both learn more by my death than by my life, then, indeed, i do rejoice. with respect to myself, it matters but little a few years or hours sooner, for i may say, in the words of job, 'though he slay me, yet will i trust in him.'" frank's sufferings increased every day, and became so very great at last, that the doctor proposed giving him strong doses of laudanum, to bring on a stupor and allay the pain; but when this was mentioned to him, he said, "i know it is my duty to take whatever you prescribe, and i certainly shall, but if we can do without opiates, let me entreat you to refrain from them. often formerly at sea i used to think it very sad how few of those i attended in sickness were allowed by the physician to die in possession of their senses, on account of being made to take laudanum, which gave them false spirits and temporary ease. let me retain my faculties as long as they are mercifully granted to me. i can bear pain,--at least, god grant me strength to do so,--but i cannot willingly enter the presence of my creator in a state little short of intoxication." many days of agony followed this resolution on the part of frank, but though the medicine, which would have brought some hours of oblivion, lay within reach, he persevered in wishing to preserve his consciousness, whatever suffering it might cost; and though now and then a prayer for bodily relief was wrung from him in his acute agony, the most frequent and fervent supplications that he uttered night and day were, in an accent of intense emotion, "god have mercy upon my soul." harry and laura were surprised to find the fields and walks near london so very rural and beautiful as they appeared at hammersmith, and to meet with much more simplicity and kindness among the common people than they had anticipated. the poorer neighbours, who became aware of their affliction, testified a degree of sympathy which frequently astonished them, and was often afterwards remembered with pleasure, one instance of which seemed peculiarly touching to laura. frank always suffered most acutely during the night, and seldom closed his eyes in sleep till morning, therefore she invariably remained with him, to beguile those weary hours, while any remonstrance on his part against so fatiguing a duty, became a mere waste of words, as she only grew sadder and paler, saying, there would be time enough to take care of herself when she could no longer be of use to him. the earliest thing that gave any relief to frank's cough every day, generally was, a tumbler of milk, warm from the cow, which had been ordered for him, and was brought almost as soon as the dawn of light. once, when frank had been unusually ill, and sighed in restless agony till morning, laura watched impatiently for day, and when the milkman was seen, at six o'clock, slowly trudging through the fields, and advancing leisurely towards the house, laura hurried eagerly down to meet him, exclaiming in accents of joy, while she held out the tumbler, "oh! i am so glad you are come at last!" "at last, miss!! i am as early as usual!" replied he, gruffly. "it's not many poor folks that gets up so soon to their work, and if you had to labour as hard as me all day, you would maybe think the morning came too soon." "i am seldom in bed all night," answered laura, sadly. "my poor sick brother cannot rest till this milk is brought, and i wait with him, hour after hour till daylight, wearying for you to come." the old dairyman looked with sorrowful surprise at laura, while she, thinking no more of what had passed, hurried away; but next morning, when sitting up again with frank, she became surprised to observe the milkman a whole hour earlier than usual, plodding along towards his cattle at a peculiarly rapid pace. he stayed not more than five minutes, only milking one cow, though all the others gathered round him, and as soon as he had filled his little pail, he came straight toward major graham's cottage, and knocked at the door. laura instantly ran down to thank him with her whole heart for his kind attention, after which, as long as frank continued ill, the old dairyman rose long before his usual time, to bring this welcome refreshment. frank desired laura to beg that he would not take so much trouble, or else to insist on his accepting some remuneration, but the old man would neither discontinue the custom, nor receive any recompense. "let me see this kind good dairyman, to thank him myself," said frank, one night, when he felt rather easier; and next morning, laura invited poor teddy collins to walk up stairs, who looked exceedingly astonished, though very much pleased at the proposal, saying, "may be, ma'am, the poor young gentleman would not like to see a stranger like me!" "no one is a stranger who feels for him as you have done," replied laura, leading the way, and frank's countenance lighted up with a smile of pleasure when they entered his room. he held out his thin emaciated hand to teddy, who looked earnestly and sorrowfully in his face as he grasped hold of it, saying, "you look very poorly, sir! i'm afraid, indeed, you are sadly ill." "that i am! as ill as any one can be on this side of eternity! my tale is told, my days are numbered; but i would not go out of this world without saying how grateful we both feel for your attention. as a cup of cold water given in christian kindness shall hereafter be rewarded, i trust also that your attention to me may not be forgotten." "you are heartily welcome, sir! it is a great honour for a poor old man like me to oblige anybody. i shall not long be able for work now, seeing that i am upwards of threescore and ten, and my days are already full of labour and sorrow." "to both of us, then, the night is far spent, and the day is at hand," replied frank--"how strange it seems, that, old as you are. i am still older; my feeble frame will be sooner worn out, and my body laid at rest in the grave! let me hope that you have already applied your heart to wisdom, for every child of earth must, sooner or later, find how short is every thing but eternity. while i appear before you here as a spectacle of mortality, think how soon and how certainly you must follow. may you then find, as i do, that even in the last extreme of sickness and sorrow, there is comfort in looking forward to such blessings as 'eye hath not seen, nor ear heard.' farewell, my kind friend! in this world we shall meet no more, but there is another and a better." the old man, apparently unwilling to withdraw, paused for some moments after frank had ceased to speak. he muttered a few inaudible words in reply, and then slowly and sorrowfully left the room, while frank's head sunk languidly on the pillows, and laura retired to her room, where, as usual, she wept herself to sleep. when harry and laura first arrived at hammersmith, frank felt anxious that they should walk out every day for the benefit of their health; but finding that each made frequent excuses for remaining constantly with him at home, he invented a plan which induced them to take exercise regularly. being early in june, strawberries were yet so exceedingly rare, that they could scarcely be had for any money; but the doctor had allowed his patient to eat fruit. frank asked his two young attendants to wander about in quest of gardens where a few strawberries could be got, and to bring him some. accordingly, they set out one morning; and after a long, unsuccessful search, at last observed a small green-house near the road, with one little basket in the window, scarcely larger than a thimble, containing two or three delicious king seedlings, perfectly ripe. these were to be sold for five shillings; but hardly waiting to ascertain the price, laura seized this welcome prize with delight, and paid for it on the spot. every morning afterwards, her regular walk was to hasten with harry towards this pretty little shop, where they talked to the gardener about poor frank being so very ill, and told him that this fine fruit was wanted for their sick brother at home. one day the invalid seemed so much worse than usual, that neither harry nor laura could bear to leave him a moment; so they requested mrs. crabtree to fetch the strawberries, which she readily agreed to do; but on drawing out her purse in the shop, and saying that she came to buy that little basket of fruit at the window, what was her astonishment when the gardener looked civil and sorry, answering that he would not sell those strawberries if she offered him a guinea a-piece. "no!" exclaimed mrs. crabtree, getting into a rage; "then what do you put them up at the window for? there is no use pretending to keep a shop, if you will not sell what is in it! give me these strawberries this minute, and here's your five shillings!" "it's quite impossible," replied the gardener, holding back the basket. "you see, ma'am, every day last week a little master and miss came to this here shop, buying my strawberries for a young gentleman who is very ill; and they look both so sweet and so mournful-like, that i would not disappoint them for all the world. they seem later to-day than usual, and are, may be, not coming at all; but if i lose my day's profits, it can't be helped. they shall not walk here for nothing, if they please to come!" when mrs. crabtree explained that she belonged to the same family as harry and laura, the gardener looked hard at her to see if she were attempting to deceive him; but feeling convinced that she spoke the truth, he begged her to carry off the basket to his young friends, positively refusing to take the price. chapter xvii. the last birth-day. mere human power shall fast decay, and youthful vigour cease; but they who wait upon the lord, in strength shall still increase. frank felt no unnatural apathy or indifference about dying, for he looked upon it with awe, though not with fear; nor did he express any rapturous excitement on the solemn occasion, knowing that death is an appointed penalty for transgression, which, though deprived of its sharpest sting by the triumphs of the cross, yet awfully testifies to all succeeding generations, that each living man has individually merited the utmost wrath of god, and that the last moment on earth, of even the most devoted christian, must be darkened by the gloom of our original sin and natural corruption. yet, "as in adam all die, so in christ are all made alive;" and amidst the throng of consolatory and affecting meditations that crowded into his mind on the great subject of our salvation, he kept a little book in which were carefully recorded such texts and reflections as he considered likely to strengthen his own faith, and to comfort those he left behind--saying one day to major graham, "tell grandmama, that though my days have been few upon the earth, they were happy! when you think of me, uncle david, after my sufferings are over, it may well be a pleasing remembrance, that you were always the best, the kindest of friends. oh! how kind! but i must not--cannot speak of that----. this is my birth-day!--my last birth-day! many a joyous one we kept together, but those merry days are over, and these sadder ones too shall cease; yet the time is fast approaching, so welcome to us both, 'when death-divided friends at last shall meet to part no more.'" in the evening, major graham observed that frank made mrs. crabtree bring everything belonging to him, and lay it on the table, when he employed himself busily in tying up a number of little parcels, remarking, with a languid smile, "my possessions are not valuable, but these are for some old friends and messmates, who will be pleased to receive a trifling memorial of one who loved them. send my dirk to peter grey, who is much reformed now. here are all the letters any of you ever sent me; how very often they have been read! but now, even that intercourse must end; keep them, for they were the dearest treasures i possessed. at madras, formerly, i remember hearing of a nabob who was bringing his whole fortune home in a chest of gold, but the ropes for hoisting his treasure on board were so insufficient, that the whole gave way, and it fell into the ocean, never to be recovered. that seemed a very sudden termination of his hopes and plans, but scarcely more unexpected than my own. 'we are a wind that passeth away and cometh not again.' many restless nights are ordained for me now, probably that i may find no resource but prayer and meditation. others can afford time to slumber, but i so soon shall sleep the sleep of death, that it becomes a blessing to have such hours of solitary thought, for preparing my heart and establishing my faith, during this moment of need." "yes, frank! but your prayers are not solitary, for ours are joined to yours," added laura. "i read in an old author lately, that christian friends in this world might be compared to travellers going along the same road in separate carriages--sometimes they are together--often they are apart--sometimes they can exchange assistance, as we do now--and often they jostle against each other, till at last, having reached the journey's end, they are removed out of these earthly vehicles into a better state, where they shall look back upon former circumstances, and know even as they are known." laura was often astonished to observe the change which had taken place in her own character and feelings within the very short period of their distress. her extreme terror of a thunder-storm formerly, had occasioned many a jest to her brothers, when harry used, occasionally, to roll heavy weights in the room above her own, to imitate the loudest peals, while frank sometimes endeavoured to argue her out of that excessive apprehension with which she listened to the most distant surmise of a storm. now, however, at hammersmith, long after midnight, the moon, on one occasion, became completely obscured by dense heavy clouds, and the air felt so oppressively hot, that frank, who seemed unusually breathless, drew closer to the window. laura supported his head, and was deeply occupied in talking to him, when suddenly a broad flash of lightning glared into the room, followed by a crash of thunder, that seemed to crack the very heavens. again and again the lightning gleamed in her face with such vividness, that laura fancied she could distinguish the heat of it, and yet she stirred not, nor did a single exclamation, as in former days, arise on her lips. "pray shut the window, laura," said frank languidly, raising his eyes; "and be so kind as to close the shutters!" "why, frank?--you never used to be alarmed by thunder!" "no! nor am i now, dear laura. what danger need a dying person fear? some few hours sooner or later would be of little consequence- come he slow, or come he fast, it is but death that comes at last. yet, laura, do you think i have forgotten old times! oh, no!--not while i live. you attend to my feelings, and surely it is my duty to remember yours." "never mind me, frank!" whispered laura. "i have got over all that folly. when real fears and sorrows come, we care no more about those that were imaginary." "true, my dear sister; and there is no courage or fortitude like that derived from faith in a superintending providence. though all creation reel, we may sleep in peace, for to christians 'danger is safe, and tumult calm.'" when frank grew worse, he became often delirious. yet as in health he had been habitually cheerful, his mind generally wandered to agreeable subjects. he fancied himself walking on the bright meadows, and picking flowers by the river side,--meeting lady harriet,--and even speaking to his father, as if sir edward had been present; while harry and laura listened, weeping and trembling, to behold the wreck of such a mind and heart as his. one evening, he seemed unusually well, and requested that his arm-chair might be wheeled to the open window, where he gazed with delight at the hills and meadows,--the clouds and glittering water,--the cattle standing in the stream,--the boats reflected on its surface,--and the roses fluttering at every casement. "those joyous little birds!--their song makes me cheerful," said he, in a tone of placid enjoyment. "i have been in countries where the birds never sing, and the leaves never fade; but they excited no sympathy or interest. here we have notes of gladness both in sunshine and storm, teaching us a lesson of grateful contentment,--while those drooping roses preach a sermon to me, for as easily might they recover freshness and bloom as myself. we shall both lie low before long in the dust, yet a spring shall come hereafter to revive even 'the ashes of the urn.' then, uncle david, we meet again,--not as now, amidst sorrow and suffering, with death and separation before us,--but blessed by the consciousness that our sins are forgiven,--our trials all ended,--and that our afflictions which were but for a moment, have worked out for us a far more exceeding, even an eternal weight of glory." some hours afterwards the doctor entered. after receiving a cordial welcome from frank, and feeling his pulse, he instantly examined his arms and neck, which were covered entirely over with small red spots, upon observing which, the friendly physician suddenly changed countenance, and stole an alarmed glance at major graham. "i feel easier and better to-day, doctor, than at any time since my illness," said frank, looking earnestly in his face. "do you think this eruption will do me good? life has much that would be dear to me, while i have friends like these to live for. can it be possible that i may yet recover?" the doctor turned away, unable to reply, while frank intensely watched his countenance, and then gazed at the pale agitated face of major graham. gradually the hope which had brightened in his cheek began to fade,--the lustre of his eye became dim,--his countenance settled into an expression of mournful resignation,--and covering his face with his hands, he said, in a voice of deep emotion, "i see how it is!--god's will be done!" the silence of death succeeded, while frank laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. a few natural tears coursed each other slowly down his cheek; but at length, an hour or two afterwards, being completely exhausted, he fell into a gentle sleep, from which the doctor considered it very doubtful if he would ever awaken, as the red spots indicated mortification, which must inevitably terminate his life before next day. laura retired to the window, making a strenuous effort to restrain her feelings, that she might be enabled to witness the last awful scene; and fervently did she pray for such strength to sustain it with fortitude, as might still render her of some use to her dying brother. her pale countenance might almost have been mistaken for that of a corpse, but for the expression of living agony in her eye; and she was sunk in deep, solemn thought, when her attention became suddenly roused by observing a chariot and four drive furiously up to the gate, while the horses were foaming and panting as they stopped. a tall gentleman, of exceedingly striking appearance, sprung hurriedly out, walked rapidly towards the cottage door, and in another minute entered frank's room, with the animated look of one who expected to be gladly welcomed, and to occasion an agreeable surprise. harry and laura shrunk close to their uncle, when the stranger, now in evident agitation, gazed round the room with an air of painful astonishment, till major graham looked round, and instantly started up with an exclamation of amazement, "edward! is it possible! this is indeed a consolation! you are still in time!" "in time!!" exclaimed sir edward, grasping his brother's hand with vehement agitation. "do you mean to say that frank is yet in danger!" major graham mournfully shook his head, and undrawing the bed curtains, he silently pointed to the sleeping countenance of frank, which was as still as death, and already overspread by a ghastly paleness. sir edward then sunk into a chair, and clenched his hands over his forehead with a look of unspeakable anguish, saying, in an under-tone, "worn out, as i am, in mind and body, i needed not this to destroy me! say at once, brother, is there any hope?" "none, my dear edward! none! even now he is insensible, and i fear with little prospect of ever becoming conscious again." at this moment frank opened his eyes, which were dim and glassy, while it became evident that he had relapsed into a state of temporary delirium. "get more candles! how very dark it is!" he said. "who are all those people? send away everybody but grandmama! i must speak to her alone. never tell papa of all this, it would only distress him--say nothing about me. why do harry and laura never come? they have been absent more than a week! who took away uncle david too?" laura listened for some time in an agony of grief, till at last, unable any longer to restrain her feelings, she clasped frank in her arms and burst into tears, exclaiming, in accents of piercing distress, "oh frank! dear frank! have you forgotten poor laura?" "not till i am dead!" whispered he, while a momentary gleam of recollection lighted up his face. "laura! we meet again." sir edward now wished to speak, but frank had relapsed into a state of feeble unconsciousness, from which nothing could arouse him; once or twice he repeated the name of laura in a low melancholy voice, till it became totally inaudible--his breath became shorter--his lips became livid--his whole frame seemed convulsed--and some hours afterwards, all that was mortal of frank graham ceased to exist. about four in the morning his body was at rest, and his spirit returned to god who gave it. the candles had burned low in their sockets, and still the mourners remained, unwilling to move from the awful scene of their bereavement. mrs. crabtree at length, who laid out the body herself, extinguished the lights, and flung open the window curtains. then suddenly a bright blaze of sunshine streamed into the room, and rested on the cold pale face of the dead. to the stunned and bewildered senses of harry and laura, the brilliant dawn of morning seemed like a mockery of their distress. many persons were already passing by--the busy stir of life had begun, and a boy strolling along the road whistled his merry tune as he went gaily on. "we are indeed mere atoms in the world!" thought laura bitterly, while these sights and sounds fell heavily on her heart. "if harry and i had both been dead also, the sun would have shone as brightly, the birds sung as joyfully, and those people been all as gay and happy as ever! nobody is thinking of frank--nobody knows our misery--the world is going on as if nothing had happened, and we are breaking our hearts with grief!" laura's heart became stilled as she gazed on the peaceful and almost happy expression of those beautiful features, which had now lost all appearance of suffering. the eyes, from which nothing but kindness and love had beamed upon her, were now closed for ever; the lips which had spoken only words of generous affection and pious hope, were silent; and the heart which had beat with every warm and brotherly feeling, was for the first time insensible to her sorrows; yet laura did not give way to the strong excess of her grief, for it sunk upon her spirit with a leaden weight of anguish, which tears and lamentations could not express, and could not even relieve. she rose and kissed, for the last time, that beloved countenance, which she was never to look upon again till they met in heaven, and stole away to the silence and solitude of her own room, where laura tried in vain to collect her thoughts. all seemed a dreary blank. she did not sigh--she could not weep; but she sat in dark and vacant abstraction, with one only consciousness filling her mind--the bitter remembrance that frank was dead--that she could be of no farther use to him--that she could have no future intercourse with him--that even in her prayers she could no longer have the comfort of naming him; and when at last she turned to his own bible which he had given her, to seek for consolation, her eyes refused their office, and the pages became blistered with tears. after frank's funeral, sir edward became too ill to leave his bed; and major graham remained with him in constant conversation; while harry and laura did every thing to testify their affection, and to fill the place now so sadly vacant. on the following sunday, several of the congregation at hammersmith observed two young strangers in the rector's pew, dressed in the deepest mourning, with pale and downcast countenances, who glided early into church, and sat immoveably still, side by side, while mr. palmer gave out for his text the affecting and appropriate words which frank himself had often repeated during his last illness, "in an hour that ye think not, the son of man cometh." not a tear was shed by either harry or laura,--their grief was too great for utterance; yet they listened with breathless interest to the sermon, intended not only to console them, but also to instruct other young persons, from the afflicting event of frank's death. mr. palmer took this opportunity to describe all the amiable dispositions of youth, and to show how much of what is pleasing may appear before religion has yet taken entire possession of the mind; but he painted in glowing colours the beautiful consistency and harmony of character which must ensue after that happy change, when the holy spirit renews the heart and influences the life. it almost seemed to harry and laura as if frank were visibly before their eyes, when mr. palmer spoke in eloquent terms of that humility which no praise could diminish--that benevolence which attended to the feelings, as well as the wants of others,--that affection which was ever ready to make any sacrifice for those he loved,--that docility which obeyed the call of duty on every occasion,--that meekness in the midst of provocation which could not be irritated,--that gentle firmness in maintaining the truths of the gospel, which no opposition could intimidate,--that cheerful submission to suffering which saw a hand of mercy in the darkest hour,--and that faith which was ever "forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before,--pressing toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of god in christ jesus." it seemed as if years had passed over the heads of harry and laura during the short period of their absence from home--that home where frank had so anxiously desired to go! all was changed within and around them,--sorrow had filled their hearts, and no longer merry, thoughtless creatures, believing the world one scene of frolicsome enjoyment and careless ease; they had now witnessed its realities,--they had felt its trials,--they had experienced the importance of religion,--they had learned the frailty of all earthly joy,--and they had received, amidst tears and sorrows, the last injunction of a dying brother, to "call upon the lord while he is near, and to seek him while he may yet be found." "uncle david," said laura one day, several months after their return home, "mrs. crabtree first endeavoured to lead us aright by severity,--you and grandmama then tried what kindness could do, but nothing was effectual till now, when god himself has laid his hand upon us. oh! what a heavy stroke was necessary to bring me to my right mind, but now, while we weep many bitter tears, harry and i often pray together that good may come out of evil, and that 'we who mourn so deeply, may find our best, our only comfort from above'." unthinking, idle, wild, and young, i laugh'd, and talk'd, and danc'd, and sung; and proud of health, of frolic vain, dream'd not of sorrow, care, or pain, concluding in those hours of glee, that all the world was made for me. but when the days of trial came, when sorrow shook this trembling frame, when folly's gay pursuits were o'er, and i could dance or sing no more; it then occurr'd how sad 'twould be were this world only made for me. princess amelia. the end. +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | transcriber's note: | | | | archaic spelling has been retained, along with inconsistent | | hyphenation: cheese-cakes/cheesecakes, good-bye/good bye, | | mile-stone/milestone, over-head/overhead, | | play-things/playthings, rail-road/railroad, | | steam-boats/steamboats, tea-pot/teapot. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ social life in the insect world by j. h. fabre translated by bernard miall with 14 illustrations london t. fisher unwin, ltd. adelphi terrace _first edition_ 1911 _second impression_ 1912 _third impression_ 1912 _fourth impression_ 1913 _fifth impression_ 1913 _sixth impression_ 1915 _seventh impression_ 1916 _eighth impression_ 1916 _ninth impression_ 1917 _tenth impression_ 1918 _eleventh impression_ 1918 _twelfth impression_ 1919 (_all rights reserved_) [illustration: 1. the mantis. a duel between females. 2. the mantis devouring a cricket. 3. the mantis devouring her mate. 4. the mantis in her attitude of prayer. 5. the mantis in her "spectral" attitude. (see p. 76.)] contents chapter i page the fable of the cigale and the ant 1 chapter ii the cigale leaves its burrow 17 chapter iii the song of the cigale 31 chapter iv the cigale. the eggs and their hatching 45 chapter v the mantis. the chase 68 chapter vi the mantis. courtship 79 chapter vii the mantis. the nest 86 chapter viii the golden gardener. its nutriment 102 chapter ix the golden gardener. courtship 111 chapter x the field cricket 120 chapter xi the italian cricket 130 chapter xii the sisyphus beetle. the instinct of paternity 136 chapter xiii a bee-hunter: the _philanthus aviporus_ 150 chapter xiv the great peacock, or emperor moth 179 chapter xv the oak eggar, or banded monk 202 chapter xvi a truffle-hunter: the _bolboceras gallicus_ 217 chapter xvii the elephant-beetle 238 chapter xviii the pea-weevil 258 chapter xix an invader: the haricot-weevil 282 chapter xx the grey locust 300 chapter xxi the pine-chafer 317 illustrations the mantis: a duel between females; devouring a cricket; devouring her mate; in her attitude of prayer; in her "spectral" attitude _frontispiece_ during the droughts of summer thirsting insects, and notably the ant, flock to the drinking-places of the cigale 8 the cigale and the empty pupa-skin 28 the adult cigale, from below. the cigale of the flowering ash, male and female 36 the cigale laying her eggs. the green grasshopper, the false cigale of the north, devouring the true cigale, a dweller in the south 48 the nest of the praying mantis; transverse section of the same; nest of empusa pauperata; transverse section of the same; vertical section of the same; nest of the grey mantis; scheffer's sisyphus (see chap. xii.); pellet of the sisyphus; pellet of the sisyphus, with dejecta of the larva forced through the walls 88 the mantis devouring the male in the act of mating; the mantis completing her nest; golden scarabæi cutting up a lob-worm 90 the golden gardener: the mating season over, the males are eviscerated by the females 114 the field-cricket: a duel between rivals; the defeated rival retires, insulted by the victor 124 the italian cricket 132 the great peacock or emperor moth 180 the great peacock moth. the pilgrims diverted by the light of a lamp 196 the grey locust; the nervatures of the wing; the balaninus fallen a victim to the length of her proboscis 244 the pine-chafer (_melolontha fullo_) 318 social life in the insect world chapter i the fable of the cigale and the ant fame is the daughter of legend. in the world of creatures, as in the world of men, the story precedes and outlives history. there are many instances of the fact that if an insect attract our attention for this reason or that, it is given a place in those legends of the people whose last care is truth. for example, who is there that does not, at least by hearsay, know the cigale? where in the entomological world shall we find a more famous reputation? her fame as an impassioned singer, careless of the future, was the subject of our earliest lessons in repetition. in short, easily remembered lines of verse, we learned how she was destitute when the winter winds arrived, and how she went begging for food to the ant, her neighbour. a poor welcome she received, the would-be borrower!--a welcome that has become proverbial, and her chief title to celebrity. the petty malice of the two short lines- vous chantiez! j'en suis bien aise, eh bien, dansez maintenant! has done more to immortalise the insect than her skill as a musician. "you sang! i am very glad to hear it! now you can dance!" the words lodge in the childish memory, never to be forgotten. to most englishmen--to most frenchmen even--the song of the cigale is unknown, for she dwells in the country of the olive-tree; but we all know of the treatment she received at the hands of the ant. on such trifles does fame depend! a legend of very dubious value, its moral as bad as its natural history; a nurse's tale whose only merit is its brevity; such is the basis of a reputation which will survive the wreck of centuries no less surely than the tale of puss-in-boots and of little red riding-hood. the child is the best guardian of tradition, the great conservative. custom and tradition become indestructible when confided to the archives of his memory. to the child we owe the celebrity of the cigale, of whose misfortunes he has babbled during his first lessons in recitation. it is he who will preserve for future generations the absurd nonsense of which the body of the fable is constructed; the cigale will always be hungry when the cold comes, although there were never cigales in winter; she will always beg alms in the shape of a few grains of wheat, a diet absolutely incompatible with her delicate capillary "tongue"; and in desperation she will hunt for flies and grubs, although she never eats. whom shall we hold responsible for these strange mistakes? la fontaine, who in most of his fables charms us with his exquisite fineness of observation, has here been ill-inspired. his earlier subjects he knew down to the ground: the fox, the wolf, the cat, the stag, the crow, the rat, the ferret, and so many others, whose actions and manners he describes with a delightful precision of detail. these are inhabitants of his own country; neighbours, fellow-parishioners. their life, private and public, is lived under his eyes; but the cigale is a stranger to the haunts of jack rabbit. la fontaine had never seen nor heard her. for him the celebrated songstress was certainly a grasshopper. grandville, whose pencil rivals the author's pen, has fallen into the same error. in his illustration to the fable we see the ant dressed like a busy housewife. on her threshold, beside her full sacks of wheat, she disdainfully turns her back upon the would-be borrower, who holds out her claw--pardon, her hand. with a wide coachman's hat, a guitar under her arm, and a skirt wrapped about her knees by the gale, there stands the second personage of the fable, the perfect portrait of a grasshopper. grandville knew no more than la fontaine of the true cigale; he has beautifully expressed the general confusion. but la fontaine, in this abbreviated history, is only the echo of another fabulist. the legend of the cigale and the cold welcome of the ant is as old as selfishness: as old as the world. the children of athens, going to school with their baskets of rush-work stuffed with figs and olives, were already repeating the story under their breath, as a lesson to be repeated to the teacher. "in winter," they used to say, "the ants were putting their damp food to dry in the sun. there came a starving cigale to beg from them. she begged for a few grains. the greedy misers replied: 'you sang in the summer, now dance in the winter.'" this, although somewhat more arid, is precisely la fontaine's story, and is contrary to the facts. yet the story comes to us from greece, which is, like the south of france, the home of the olive-tree and the cigale. was æsop really its author, as tradition would have it? it is doubtful, and by no means a matter of importance; at all events, the author was a greek, and a compatriot of the cigale, which must have been perfectly familiar to him. there is not a single peasant in my village so blind as to be unaware of the total absence of cigales in winter; and every tiller of the soil, every gardener, is familiar with the first phase of the insect, the larva, which his spade is perpetually discovering when he banks up the olives at the approach of the cold weather, and he knows, having seen it a thousand times by the edge of the country paths, how in summer this larva issues from the earth from a little round well of its own making; how it climbs a twig or a stem of grass, turns upon its back, climbs out of its skin, drier now than parchment, and becomes the cigale; a creature of a fresh grass-green colour which is rapidly replaced by brown. we cannot suppose that the greek peasant was so much less intelligent than the provençal that he can have failed to see what the least observant must have noticed. he knew what my rustic neighbours know so well. the scribe, whoever he may have been, who was responsible for the fable was in the best possible circumstances for correct knowledge of the subject. whence, then, arose the errors of his tale? less excusably than la fontaine, the greek fabulist wrote of the cigale of the books, instead of interrogating the living cigale, whose cymbals were resounding on every side; careless of the real, he followed tradition. he himself echoed a more ancient narrative; he repeated some legend that had reached him from india, the venerable mother of civilisations. we do not know precisely what story the reed-pen of the hindoo may have confided to writing, in order to show the perils of a life without foresight; but it is probable that the little animal drama was nearer the truth than the conversation between the cigale and the ant. india, the friend of animals, was incapable of such a mistake. everything seems to suggest that the principal personage of the original fable was not the cigale of the midi, but some other creature, an insect if you will, whose manners corresponded to the adopted text. imported into greece, after long centuries during which, on the banks of the indus, it made the wise reflect and the children laugh, the ancient anecdote, perhaps as old as the first piece of advice that a father of a family ever gave in respect of economy, transmitted more or less faithfully from one memory to another, must have suffered alteration in its details, as is the fate of all such legends, which the passage of time adapts to the circumstance of time and place. the greek, not finding in his country the insect of which the hindoo spoke, introduced the cigale, as in paris, the modern athens, the cigale has been replaced by the grasshopper. the mistake was made; henceforth indelible. entrusted as it is to the memory of childhood, error will prevail against the truth that lies before our eyes. let us seek to rehabilitate the songstress so calumniated by the fable. she is, i grant you, an importunate neighbour. every summer she takes up her station in hundreds before my door, attracted thither by the verdure of two great plane-trees; and there, from sunrise to sunset, she hammers on my brain with her strident symphony. with this deafening concert thought is impossible; the mind is in a whirl, is seized with vertigo, unable to concentrate itself. if i have not profited by the early morning hours the day is lost. ah! creature possessed, the plague of my dwelling, which i hoped would be so peaceful!--the athenians, they say, used to hang you up in a little cage, the better to enjoy your song. one were well enough, during the drowsiness of digestion; but hundreds, roaring all at once, assaulting the hearing until thought recoils--this indeed is torture! you put forward, as excuse, your rights as the first occupant. before my arrival the two plane-trees were yours without reserve; it is i who have intruded, have thrust myself into their shade. i confess it: yet muffle your cymbals, moderate your arpeggi, for the sake of your historian! the truth rejects what the fabulist tells us as an absurd invention. that there are sometimes dealings between the cigale and the ant is perfectly correct; but these dealings are the reverse of those described in the fable. they depend not upon the initiative of the former; for the cigale never required the help of others in order to make her living: on the contrary, they are due to the ant, the greedy exploiter of others, who fills her granaries with every edible she can find. at no time does the cigale plead starvation at the doors of the ant-hills, faithfully promising a return of principal and interest; the ant on the contrary, harassed by drought, begs of the songstress. begs, do i say! borrowing and repayment are no part of the manners of this land-pirate. she exploits the cigale; she impudently robs her. let us consider this theft; a curious point of history as yet unknown. in july, during the stifling hours of the afternoon, when the insect peoples, frantic with drought, wander hither and thither, vainly seeking to quench their thirst at the faded, exhausted flowers, the cigale makes light of the general aridity. with her rostrum, a delicate augur, she broaches a cask of her inexhaustible store. crouching, always singing, on the twig of a suitable shrub or bush, she perforates the firm, glossy rind, distended by the sap which the sun has matured. plunging her proboscis into the bung-hole, she drinks deliciously, motionless, and wrapt in meditation, abandoned to the charms of syrup and of song. let us watch her awhile. perhaps we shall witness unlooked-for wretchedness and want. for there are many thirsty creatures wandering hither and thither; and at last they discover the cigale's private well, betrayed by the oozing sap upon the brink. they gather round it, at first with a certain amount of constraint, confining themselves to lapping the extravasated liquor. i have seen, crowding around the honeyed perforation, wasps, flies, earwigs, sphinx-moths, pompilidæ, rose-chafers, and, above all, ants. the smallest, in order to reach the well, slip under the belly of the cigale, who kindly raises herself on her claws, leaving room for the importunate ones to pass. the larger, stamping with impatience, quickly snatch a mouthful, withdraw, take a turn on the neighbouring twigs, and then return, this time more enterprising. envy grows keener; those who but now were cautious become turbulent and aggressive, and would willingly drive from the spring the well-sinker who has caused it to flow. in this crowd of brigands the most aggressive are the ants. i have seen them nibbling the ends of the cigale's claws; i have caught them tugging the ends of her wings, climbing on her back, tickling her antennæ. one audacious individual so far forgot himself under my eyes as to seize her proboscis, endeavouring to extract it from the well! thus hustled by these dwarfs, and at the end of her patience, the giantess finally abandons the well. she flies away, throwing a jet of liquid excrement over her tormentors as she goes. but what cares the ant for this expression of sovereign contempt? she is left in possession of the spring--only too soon exhausted when the pump is removed that made it flow. there is little left, but that little is sweet. so much to the good; she can wait for another drink, attained in the same manner, as soon as the occasion presents itself. [illustration: during the droughts of summer thirsting insects, and notably the ant, flock to the drinking-places of the cigale.] as we see, reality completely reverses the action described by the fable. the shameless beggar, who does not hesitate at theft, is the ant; the industrious worker, willingly sharing her goods with the suffering, is the cigale. yet another detail, and the reversal of the fable is further emphasised. after five or six weeks of gaiety, the songstress falls from the tree, exhausted by the fever of life. the sun shrivels her body; the feet of the passers-by crush it. a bandit always in search of booty, the ant discovers the remains. she divides the rich find, dissects it, and cuts it up into tiny fragments, which go to swell her stock of provisions. it is not uncommon to see a dying cigale, whose wings are still trembling in the dust, drawn and quartered by a gang of knackers. her body is black with them. after this instance of cannibalism the truth of the relations between the two insects is obvious. antiquity held the cigale in high esteem. the greek béranger, anacreon, devoted an ode to her, in which his praise of her is singularly exaggerated. "thou art almost like unto the gods," he says. the reasons which he has given for this apotheosis are none of the best. they consist in these three privileges: [greek: gêgenês, apathês, hanaimosarke]; born of the earth, insensible to pain, bloodless. we will not reproach the poet for these mistakes; they were then generally believed, and were perpetuated long afterwards, until the exploring eye of scientific observation was directed upon them. and in minor poetry, whose principal merit lies in rhythm and harmony, we must not look at things too closely. even in our days, the provençal poets, who know the cigale as anacreon never did, are scarcely more careful of the truth in celebrating the insect which they have taken for their emblem. a friend of mine, an eager observer and a scrupulous realist, does not deserve this reproach. he gives me permission to take from his pigeon-holes the following provençal poem, in which the relations between the cigale and the ant are expounded with all the rigour of science. i leave to him the responsibility for his poetic images and his moral reflections, blossoms unknown to my naturalist's garden; but i can swear to the truth of all he says, for it corresponds with what i see each summer on the lilac-trees of my garden. la cigalo e la fournigo. i. jour de dièu, queto caud! bèu tèms pèr la cigalo, que, trefoulido, se regalo d'uno raisso de fio; bèu tèms per la meissoun. dins lis erso d'or, lou segaire, ren plega, pitre au vent, rustico e canto gaire; dins soun gousiè, la set estranglo la cansoun. tèms benesi pèr tu. dounc, ardit! cigaleto, fai-lei brusi, ti chimbaleto, e brandusso lou ventre à creba ti mirau. l'ome enterin mando le daio, que vai balin-balan de longo e que dardaio l'ulau de soun acié sus li rous espigau. plèn d'aigo pèr la péiro e tampouna d'erbiho lou coufié sus l'anco pendiho. si la péiro es au frès dins soun estui de bos, e se de longo es abèurado, l'ome barbelo au fio d'aqueli souleiado que fan bouli de fes la mesoulo dis os. tu, cigalo, as un biais pèr la set: dins la rusco tendro e jutouso d'uno busco, l'aguio de toun bè cabusso e cavo un pous. lou siro monto pèr la draio. t'amourres à la fon melicouso que raio, e dou sourgènt sucra bèves lou teta-dous. mai pas toujour en pas. oh! que nàni; de laire, vesin, vesino o barrulaire, t'an vist cava lou pous. an set; vènon, doulènt, te prène un degout pèr si tasso. mesfiso-te, ma bello: aqueli curo-biasso, umble d'abord, soun lèu de gusas insoulènt. quiston un chicouloun di rèn, pièi de ti resto soun plus countènt, ausson la testo e volon tout: l'auran. sis arpioun en rastèu te gatihoun lou bout de l'alo. sus tu larjo esquinasso es un mounto-davalo; t'aganton pèr lou bè, li bano, lis artèu; tiron d'eici, d'eilà. l'impaciènci te gagno. pst! pst! d'un giscle de pissagno aspèrges l'assemblado e quites lou ramèu. t'en vas bèn liuen de la racaio, que t'a rauba lou pous, e ris, e se gougaio, e se lipo li brego enviscado de mèu. or d'aqueli boumian abèura sens fatigo, lou mai tihous es la fournigo. mousco, cabrian, guespo e tavan embana, espeloufi de touto meno, costo-en-long qu'à toun pous lou soulcias ameno, n'an pas soun testardige à te faire enana. pèr l'esquicha l'artèu, te coutiga lou mourre, te pessuga lou nas, pèr courre a l'oumbro du toun ventre, osco! degun la vau. lou marrit-pèu prend pèr escalo uno patto e te monto, ardido, sus lis alo, e s'espasso, insoulènto, e vai d'amont, d'avau. ii. aro veici qu'es pas de crèire. ancian tèms, nous dison li rèire, un jour d'ivèr; la fam te prenguè. lou front bas e d'escoundoun anères vèire, dins si grand magasin, la fournigo, eilàbas. l'endrudido au soulèu secavo, avans de lis escoundre en cavo, si blad qu'aviè mousi l'eigagno de la niue. quand èron lest lis ensacavo. tu survènes alor, emé de plour is iue. iè disés: "fai bèn fre; l'aurasso d'un caire à l'autre me tirasso avanido de fam. a toun riche mouloun leisso-me prène pèr ma biasso. te lou rendrai segur au bèu tèms di meloun. "presto-me un pan de gran." mai, bouto, se cresès que l'autro t'escouto, t'enganes. di gros sa, rèn de rèn sara tièu. "vai-t'en plus liuen rascla de bouto; crebo de fam l'ivèr, tu que cantes l'estièu." ansin charro la fablo antico pèr nous counséia la pratico di sarro-piastro, urous de nousa li cordoun de si bourso.--que la coulico rousiguè la tripaio en aqueli coudoun! me fai susa, lou fabulisto, quand dis que l'ivèr vas en quisto de mousco, verme, gran, tu que manges jamai. de blad! que n'en fariès, ma fisto! as ta fon melicouso e demandes rèn mai. que t'enchau l'ivèr! ta famiho a la sousto en terro soumiho, et tu dormes la som que n'a ges de revèi; toun cadabre toumbo en douliho. un jour, en tafurant, la fournigo lou véi, de tu magro péu dessecado la marriasso fai becado; te curo lou perus, te chapouto à moucèu, t'encafourno pèr car-salado, requisto prouvisioun, l'ivèr, en tèms de neu. iii. vaqui l'istori veritablo bèn liuen dôu conte de la fablo. que n'en pensas, canèu de sort! --o rammaissaire de dardeno det croucu, boumbudo bedeno que gouvernas lou mounde emé lou coffre-fort, fasès courre lou bru, canaio, que l'artisto jamai travaio e dèu pati, lou bedigas. teisas-vous dounc: quand di lambrusco la cigalo a cava la rusco, raubas soun bèure, e pièi, morto, la rousigas. so speaks my friend in the expressive provençal idiom, rehabilitating the creature so libelled by the fabulist. translated with a little necessary freedom, the english of it is as follows:- i. fine weather for the cigale! god, what heat! half drunken with her joy, she feasts in a hail of fire. pays for the harvest meet; a golden sea the reaper breasts, loins bent, throat bare; silent, he labours long, for thirst within his throat has stilled the song. a blessed time for thee, little cigale. thy little cymbals shake and sound, shake, shake thy stomach till thy mirrors fall! man meanwhile swings his scythe around; continually back and forth it veers, flashing its steel amidst the ruddy ears. grass-plugged, with water for the grinder full, a flask is hung upon his hip; the stone within its wooden trough is cool, free all the day to sip and sip; but man is gasping in the fiery sun, that makes his very marrow melt and run. thou, cigale, hast a cure for thirst: the bark, tender and juicy, of the bough. thy beak, a very needle, stabs it. mark the narrow passage welling now; the sugared stream is flowing, thee beside, who drinkest of the flood, the honeyed tide. not in peace always; nay, for thieves arrive, neighbours and wives, or wanderers vile; they saw thee sink the well, and ill they thrive thirsting; they seek to drink awhile; beauty, beware! the wallet-snatcher's face, humble at first, grows insolent apace. they seek the merest drop; thy leavings take; soon discontent, their heads they toss; they crave for all, and all will have. they rake their claws thy folded wings across; thy back a mountain, up and down each goes; they seize thee by the beak, the horns, the toes. this way and that they pull. impatient thou: pst! pst! a jet of nauseous taste o'er the assembly sprinklest. leave the bough and fly the rascals thus disgraced, who stole thy well, and with malicious pleasure now lick their honey'd lips, and feed at leisure. see these bohemians without labour fed! the ant the worst of all the crew- fly, drone, wasp, beetle too with horned head, all of them sharpers thro' and thro', idlers the sun drew to thy well apace- none more than she was eager for thy place, more apt thy face to tickle, toe to tread, or nose to pinch, and then to run under the shade thine ample belly spread; or climb thy leg for ladder; sun herself audacious on thy wings, and go most insolently o'er thee to and fro. ii. now comes a tale that no one should believe. in other times, the ancients say, the winter came, and hunger made thee grieve. thou didst in secret see one day the ant below the ground her treasure store away. the wealthy ant was drying in the sun her corn the dew had wet by night, ere storing it again; and one by one she filled her sacks as it dried aright. thou camest then, and tears bedimmed thy sight, saying: "'tis very cold; the bitter bise blows me this way and that to-day. i die of hunger. of your riches please fill me my bag, and i'll repay, when summer and its melons come this way. "lend me a little corn." go to, go to! think you the ant will lend an ear? you are deceived. great sacks, but nought for you! "be off, and scrape some barrel clear! you sing of summer: starve, for winter's here!" 'tis thus the ancient fable sings to teach us all the prudence ripe of farthing-snatchers, glad to knot the string that tie their purses. may the gripe of colic twist the guts of all such tripe! he angers me, this fable-teller does, saying in winter thou dost seek flies, grubs, corn--thou dost never eat like us! --corn! couldst thou eat it, with thy beak? thou hast thy fountain with its honey'd reek. to thee what matters winter? underground slumber thy children, sheltered; thou the sleep that knows no waking sleepest sound. thy body, fallen from the bough, crumbles; the questing ant has found thee now. the wicked ant of thy poor withered hide a banquet makes; in little bits she cuts thee up, and empties thine inside, and stores thee where in wealth she sits: choice diet when the winter numbs the wits. iii. here is the tale related duly, and little resembling the fable, truly! hoarders of farthings, i know, deuce take it. it isn't the story as you would make it! crook-fingers, big-bellies, what do you say, who govern the world with the cash-box--hey? you have spread the story, with shrug and smirk, that the artist ne'er does a stroke of work; and so let him suffer, the imbecile! be you silent! 'tis you, i think, when the cigale pierces the vine to drink, drive her away, her drink to steal; and when she is dead--you make your meal! chapter ii the cigale leaves its burrow the first cigales appear about the summer solstice. along the beaten paths, calcined by the sun, hardened by the passage of frequent feet, we see little circular orifices almost large enough to admit the thumb. these are the holes by which the larvæ of the cigale have come up from the depths to undergo metamorphosis. we see them more or less everywhere, except in fields where the soil has been disturbed by ploughing. their usual position is in the driest and hottest situations, especially by the sides of roads or the borders of footpaths. powerfully equipped for the purpose, able at need to pierce the turf or sun-dried clay, the larva, upon leaving the earth, seems to prefer the hardest spots. a garden alley, converted into a little arabia petræa by reflection from a wall facing the south, abounds in such holes. during the last days of june i have made an examination of these recently abandoned pits. the soil is so compact that i needed a pick to tackle it. the orifices are round, and close upon an inch in diameter. there is absolutely no debris round them; no earth thrown up from within. this is always the case; the holes of the cigales are never surrounded by dumping-heaps, as are the burrows of the geotrupes, another notable excavator. the way in which the work is done is responsible for this difference. the dung-beetle works from without inwards; she begins to dig at the mouth of the burrow, and afterwards re-ascends and accumulates the excavated material on the surface. the larva of the cigale, on the contrary, works outward from within, upward from below; it opens the door of exit at the last moment, so that it is not free for the discharge of excavated material until the work is done. the first enters and raises a little rubbish-heap at the threshold of her burrow; the second emerges, and cannot, while working, pile up its rubbish on a threshold which as yet has no existence. the burrow of the cigale descends about fifteen inches. it is cylindrical, slightly twisted, according to the exigencies of the soil, and always approaches the vertical, or the direction of the shortest passage. it is perfectly free along its entire length. we shall search in vain for the rubbish which such an excavation must apparently produce; we shall find nothing of the sort. the burrow terminates in a cul-de-sac, in a fairly roomy chamber with unbroken walls, which shows not the least vestige of communication with any other burrow or prolongation of the shaft. taking its length and diameter into account, we find the excavation has a total volume of about twelve cubic inches. what becomes of the earth which is removed? sunk in a very dry, crumbling soil, we should expect the shaft and the chamber at the bottom to have soft, powdery walls, subject to petty landslips, if no work were done but that of excavation. on the contrary, the walls are neatly daubed, plastered with a sort of clay-like mortar. they are not precisely smooth, indeed they are distinctly rough; but their irregularities are covered with a layer of plaster, and the crumbling material, soaked in some glutinous liquid and dried, is held firmly in place. the larva can climb up and down, ascend nearly to the surface, and go down into its chamber of refuge, without bringing down, with his claws, the continual falls of material which would block the burrow, make ascent a matter of difficulty, and retreat impossible. the miner shores up his galleries with uprights and cross-timbers; the builder of underground railways supports the sides and roofs of his tunnels with a lining of brick or masonry or segments of iron tube; the larva of the cigale, no less prudent an engineer, plasters the walls of its burrow with cement, so that the passage is always free and ready for use. if i surprise the creature just as it is emerging from the soil in order to gain a neighbouring bough and there undergo transformation, i see it immediately make a prudent retreat, descending to the bottom of its burrow without the slightest difficulty--a proof that even when about to be abandoned for ever the refuge is not encumbered with rubbish. the ascending shaft is not a hurried piece of work, scamped by a creature impatient to reach the sunlight. it is a true dwelling, in which the larva may make a long stay. the plastered walls betray as much. such precautions would be useless in the case of a simple exit abandoned as soon as made. we cannot doubt that the burrow is a kind of meteorological observatory, and that its inhabitant takes note of the weather without. buried underground at a depth of twelve or fifteen inches, the larva, when ripe for escape, could hardly judge whether the meteorological conditions were favourable. the subterranean climate varies too little, changes too slowly, and would not afford it the precise information required for the most important action of its life--the escape into the sunshine at the time of metamorphosis. patiently, for weeks, perhaps for months, it digs, clears, and strengthens a vertical shaft, leaving only a layer of earth a finger's breadth in thickness to isolate it from the outer world. at the bottom it prepares a carefully built recess. this is its refuge, its place of waiting, where it reposes in peace if its observations decide it to postpone its final departure. at the least sign of fine weather it climbs to the top of its burrow, sounds the outer world through the thin layer of earth which covers the shaft, and informs itself of the temperature and humidity of the outer air. if things are not going well--if there are threats of a flood or the dreaded _bise_--events of mortal gravity when the delicate insect issues from its cerements--the prudent creature re-descends to the bottom of its burrow for a longer wait. if, on the contrary, the state of the atmosphere is favourable, the roof is broken through by a few strokes of its claws, and the larva emerges from its tunnel. everything seems to prove that the burrow of the cigale is a waiting-room, a meteorological station, in which the larva makes a prolonged stay; sometimes hoisting itself to the neighbourhood of the surface in order to ascertain the external climate; sometimes retiring to the depths the better to shelter itself. this explains the chamber at the base of the shaft, and the necessity of a cement to hold the walls together, for otherwise the creature's continual comings and goings would result in a landslip. a matter less easy of explanation is the complete disappearance of the material which originally filled the excavated space. where are the twelve cubic inches of earth that represent the average volume of the original contents of the shaft? there is not a trace of this material outside, nor inside either. and how, in a soil as dry as a cinder, is the plaster made with which the walls are covered? larvæ which burrow in wood, such as those of capricornis and buprestes, will apparently answer our first question. they make their way through the substance of a tree-trunk, boring their galleries by the simple method of eating the material in front of them. detached by their mandibles, fragment by fragment, the material is digested. it passes from end to end through the body of the pioneer, yields during its passage its meagre nutritive principles, and accumulates behind it, obstructing the passage, by which the larva will never return. the work of extreme division, effected partly by the mandibles and partly by the stomach, makes the digested material more compact than the intact wood, from which it follows that there is always a little free space at the head of the gallery, in which the caterpillar works and lives; it is not of any great length, but just suffices for the movements of the prisoner. must not the larva of the cigale bore its passage in some such fashion? i do not mean that the results of excavation pass through its body--for earth, even the softest mould, could form no possible part of its diet. but is not the material detached simply thrust back behind the excavator as the work progresses? the cigale passes four years under ground. this long life is not spent, of course, at the bottom of the well i have just described; that is merely a resting-place preparatory to its appearance on the face of the earth. the larva comes from elsewhere; doubtless from a considerable distance. it is a vagabond, roaming from one root to another and implanting its rostrum. when it moves, either to flee from the upper layers of the soil, which in winter become too cold, or to install itself upon a more juicy root, it makes a road by rejecting behind it the material broken up by the teeth of its picks. that this is its method is incontestable. as with the larvæ of capricornis and buprestes, it is enough for the traveller to have around it the small amount of free space necessitated by its movements. moist, soft, and easily compressible soil is to the larva of the cigale what digested wood-pulp is to the others. it is compressed without difficulty, and so leaves a vacant space. the difficulty is that sometimes the burrow of exit from the waiting-place is driven through a very arid soil, which is extremely refractory to compression so long as it retains its aridity. that the larva, when commencing the excavation of its burrow, has already thrust part of the detached material into a previously made gallery, now filled up and disappeared, is probable enough, although nothing in the actual condition of things goes to support the theory; but if we consider the capacity of the shaft and the extreme difficulty of making room for such a volume of debris, we feel dubious once more; for to hide such a quantity of earth a considerable empty space would be necessary, which could only be obtained by the disposal of more debris. thus we are caught in a vicious circle. the mere packing of the powdered earth rejected behind the excavator would not account for so large a void. the cigale must have a special method of disposing of the waste earth. let us see if we can discover the secret. let us examine a larva at the moment of emerging from the soil. it is almost always more or less smeared with mud, sometimes dried, sometimes moist. the implements of excavation, the claws of the fore-feet, have their points covered by little globules of mortar; the others bear leggings of mud; the back is spotted with clay. one is reminded of a scavenger who has been scooping up mud all day. this condition is the more striking in that the insect comes from an absolutely dry soil. we should expect to see it dusty; we find it muddy. one more step, and the problem of the well is solved. i exhume a larva which is working at its gallery of exit. chance postpones this piece of luck, which i cannot expect to achieve at once, since nothing on the surface guides my search. but at last i am rewarded, and the larva is just beginning its excavation. an inch of tunnel, free of all waste or rubbish, and at the bottom the chamber, the place of rest; so far has the work proceeded. and the worker--in what condition is it? let us see. the larva is much paler in colour than those which i have caught as they emerged. the large eyes in particular are whitish, cloudy, blurred, and apparently blind. what would be the use of sight underground? the eyes of the larvæ leaving their burrows are black and shining, and evidently capable of sight. when it issues into the sunlight the future cigale must find, often at some distance from its burrow, a suitable twig from which to hang during its metamorphosis, so that sight is obviously of the greatest utility. the maturity of the eyes, attained during the time of preparation before deliverance, proves that the larva, far from boring its tunnel in haste, has spent a long time labouring at it. what else do we notice? the blind, pale larva is far more voluminous than in the mature state; it is swollen with liquid as though it had dropsy. taken in the fingers, a limpid serum oozes from the hinder part of the body, which moistens the whole surface. is this fluid, evacuated by the intestine, a product of urinary secretion--simply the contents of a stomach nourished entirely upon sap? i will not attempt to decide, but for convenience will content myself with calling it urine. well, this fountain of urine is the key to the enigma. as it digs and advances the larva waters the powdery debris and converts it into a paste, which is immediately applied to the walls by the pressure of the abdomen. aridity is followed by plasticity. the mud thus obtained penetrates the interstices of the rough soil; the more liquid portion enters the substance of the soil by infiltration; the remainder becomes tightly packed and fills up the inequalities of the walls. thus the insect obtains an empty tunnel, with no loose waste, as all the loosened soil is utilised on the spot, converted into a mortar which is more compact and homogeneous than the soil through which the shaft is driven. thus the larva works in the midst of a coating of mud, which is the cause of its dirtiness, so astonishing when we see it issue from an excessively dry soil. the perfect insect, although henceforth liberated from the work of a sapper and miner, does not entirely abandon the use of urine as a weapon, employing it as a means of defence. too closely observed it throws a jet of liquid upon the importunate enemy and flies away. in both its forms the cigale, in spite of its dry temperament, is a famous irrigator. dropsical as it is, the larva cannot contain sufficient liquid to moisten and convert into easily compressible mud the long column of earth which must be removed from the burrow. the reservoir becomes exhausted, and the provision must be renewed. where, and how? i think i can answer the question. the few burrows uncovered along their entirety, with the meticulous care such a task demands, have revealed at the bottom, encrusted in the wall of the terminal chamber, a living root, sometimes of the thickness of a pencil, sometimes no bigger than a straw. the visible portion of this root is only a fraction of an inch in length; the rest is hidden by the surrounding earth. is the presence of this source of sap fortuitous? or is it the result of deliberate choice on the part of the larva? i incline towards the second alternative, so repeatedly was the presence of a root verified, at least when my search was skilfully conducted. yes, the cigale, digging its chamber, the nucleus of the future shaft, seeks out the immediate neighbourhood of a small living root; it lays bare a certain portion, which forms part of the wall, without projecting. this living spot in the wall is the fountain where the supply of moisture is renewed. when its reservoir is exhausted by the conversion of dry dust into mud the miner descends to its chamber, thrusts its proboscis into the root, and drinks deep from the vat built into the wall. its organs well filled, it re-ascends. it resumes work, damping the hard soil the better to remove it with its talons, reducing the debris to mud, in order to pack it tightly around it and obtain a free passage. in this manner the shaft is driven upwards; logic and the facts of the case, in the absence of direct observation, justify the assertion. if the root were to fail, and the reservoir of the intestine were exhausted, what would happen? the following experiment will inform us: a larva is caught as it leaves the earth. i place it at the bottom of a test-tube, and cover it with a column of dry earth, which is rather lightly packed. this column is about six inches in height. the larva has just left an excavation three times as deep, made in soil of the same kind, but offering a far greater resistance. buried under this short column of powdery earth, will it be able to gain the surface? if its strength hold out the issue should be certain; having but lately made its way through the hard earth, this obstacle should be easily removed. but i am not so sure. in removing the stopper which divided it from the outside world, the larva has expended its final store of liquid. the cistern is dry, and in default of a living root there is no means of replenishing it. my suspicions are well founded. for three days the prisoner struggles desperately, but cannot ascend by so much as an inch. it is impossible to fix the material removed in the absence of moisture; as soon as it is thrust aside it slips back again. the labour has no visible result; it is a labour of sisyphus, always to be commenced anew. on the fourth day the creature succumbs. with the intestines full the result is very different. i make the same experiment with an insect which is only beginning its work of liberation. it is swollen with fluid, which oozes from it and moistens the whole body. its task is easy; the overlying earth offers little resistance. a small quantity of liquid from the intestines converts it into mud; forms a sticky paste which can be thrust aside with the assurance that it will remain where it is placed. the shaft is gradually opened; very unevenly, to be sure, and it is almost choked up behind the insect as it climbs upwards. it seems as though the creature recognises the impossibility of renewing its store of liquid, and so economises the little it possesses, using only just so much as is necessary in order to escape as quickly as possible from surroundings which are strange to its inherited instincts. this parsimony is so well judged that the insect gains the surface at the end of twelve days. the gate of issue is opened and left gaping, like a hole made with an augur. for some little time the larva wanders about the neighbourhood of its burrow, seeking an eyrie on some low-growing bush or tuft of thyme, on a stem of grass or grain, or the twig of a shrub. once found, it climbs and firmly clasps its support, the head upwards, while the talons of the fore feet close with an unyielding grip. the other claws, if the direction of the twig is convenient, assist in supporting it; otherwise the claws of the two fore legs will suffice. there follows a moment of repose, while the supporting limbs stiffen in an unbreakable hold. then the thorax splits along the back, and through the fissure the insect slowly emerges. the whole process lasts perhaps half an hour. there is the adult insect, freed of its mask, and how different from what it was but how! the wings are heavy, moist, transparent, with nervures of a tender green. the thorax is barely clouded with brown. all the rest of the body is a pale green, whitish in places. heat and a prolonged air-bath are necessary to harden and colour the fragile creature. some two hours pass without any perceptible change. hanging to its deserted shell by the two fore limbs, the cigale sways to the least breath of air, still feeble and still green. finally, the brown colour appears and rapidly covers the whole body; the change of colour is completed in half an hour. fastening upon its chosen twig at nine o'clock in the morning, the cigale flies away under my eyes at half-past twelve. the empty shell remains, intact except for the fissure in the back; clasping the twig so firmly that the winds of autumn do not always succeed in detaching it. for some months yet and even during the winter you will often find these forsaken skins hanging from the twigs in the precise attitude assumed by the larva at the moment of metamorphosis. they are of a horny texture, not unlike dry parchment, and do not readily decay. i could gather some wonderful information regarding the cigale were i to listen to all that my neighbours, the peasants, tell me. i will give one instance of rustic natural history. [illustration: the cigale and the empty pupa-skin.] are you afflicted with any kidney trouble, or are you swollen with dropsy, or have you need of some powerful diuretic? the village pharmacopoeia is unanimous in recommending the cigale as a sovereign remedy. the insects in the adult form are collected in summer. they are strung into necklaces which are dried in the sun and carefully preserved in some cupboard or drawer. a good housewife would consider it imprudent to allow july to pass without threading a few of these insects. do you suffer from any nephritic irritation or from stricture? drink an infusion of cigales. nothing, they say, is more effectual. i must take this opportunity of thanking the good soul who once upon a time, so i was afterwards informed, made me drink such a concoction unawares for the cure of some such trouble; but i still remain incredulous. i have been greatly struck by the fact that the ancient physician of anazarbus used to recommend the same remedy. dioscorides tells us: _cicadæ, quae inassatae manduntur, vesicae doloribus prosunt_. since the distant days of this patriarch of _materia medica_ the provençal peasant has retained his faith in the remedy revealed to him by the greeks, who came from phocæa with the olive, the fig, and the vine. only one thing is changed: dioscorides advises us to eat the cigales roasted, but now they are boiled, and the decoction is administered as medicine. the explanation which is given of the diuretic properties of the insect is a marvel of ingenuousness. the cigale, as every one knows who has tried to catch it, throws a jet of liquid excrement in one's face as it flies away. it therefore endows us with its faculties of evacuation. thus dioscorides and his contemporaries must have reasoned; so reasons the peasant of provence to-day. what would you say, worthy neighbours, if you knew of the virtues of the larva, which is able to mix sufficient mortar with its urine to build a meteorological station and a shaft connecting with the outer world? your powers should equal those of rabelais' gargantua, who, seated upon the towers of notre dame, drowned so many thousands of the inquisitive parisians. chapter iii the song of the cigale where i live i can capture five species of cigale, the two principal species being the common cigale and the variety which lives on the flowering ash. both of these are widely distributed and are the only species known to the country folk. the larger of the two is the common cigale. let me briefly describe the mechanism with which it produces its familiar note. on the under side of the body of the male, immediately behind the posterior limbs, are two wide semicircular plates which slightly overlap one another, the right hand lying over the left hand plate. these are the shutters, the lids, the dampers of the musical-box. let us remove them. to the right and left lie two spacious cavities which are known in provençal as the chapels (_li capello_). together they form the church (_la glèiso_). their forward limit is formed by a creamy yellow membrane, soft and thin; the hinder limit by a dry membrane coloured like a soap bubble and known in provençal as the mirror (_mirau_). the church, the mirrors, and the dampers are commonly regarded as the organs which produce the cry of the cigale. of a singer out of breath one says that he has broken his mirrors (_a li mirau creba_). the same phrase is used of a poet without inspiration. acoustics give the lie to the popular belief. you may break the mirrors, remove the covers with a snip of the scissors, and tear the yellow anterior membrane, but these mutilations do not silence the song of the cigale; they merely change its quality and weaken it. the chapels are resonators; they do not produce the sound, but merely reinforce it by the vibration of their anterior and posterior membranes; while the sound is modified by the dampers as they are opened more or less widely. the actual source of the sound is elsewhere, and is somewhat difficult for a novice to find. on the outer wall of either chapel, at the ridge formed by the junction of back and belly, is a tiny aperture with a horny circumference masked by the overlapping damper. we will call this the window. this opening gives access to a cavity or sound-chamber, deeper than the "chapels," but of much smaller capacity. immediately behind the attachment of the posterior wings is a slight protuberance, almost egg-shaped, which is distinguishable, on account of its dull black colour, from the neighbouring integuments, which are covered with a silvery down. this protuberance is the outer wall of the sound-chamber. let us cut it boldly away. we shall then lay bare the mechanism which produces the sound, the _cymbal_. this is a small dry, white membrane, oval in shape, convex on the outer side, and crossed along its larger diameter by a bundle of three or four brown nervures, which give it elasticity. its entire circumference is rigidly fixed. let us suppose that this convex scale is pulled out of shape from the interior, so that it is slightly flattened and as quickly released; it will immediately regain its original convexity owing to the elasticity of the nervures. from this oscillation a ticking sound will result. twenty years ago all paris was buying a silly toy, called, i think, the cricket or _cri-cri_. it was a short slip of steel fixed by one end to a metallic base. pressed out of shape by the thumb and released, it yielded a very distressing, tinkling _click_. nothing else was needed to take the popular mind by storm. the "cricket" had its day of glory. oblivion has executed justice upon it so effectually that i fear i shall not be understood when i recall this celebrated device. the membranous cymbal and the steel cricket are analogous instruments. both produce a sound by reason of the rapid deformation and recovery of an elastic substance--in one case a convex membrane; in the other a slip of steel. the "cricket" was bent out of shape by the thumb. how is the convexity of the cymbals altered? let us return to the "church" and break down the yellow curtain which closes the front of each chapel. two thick muscular pillars are visible, of a pale orange colour; they join at an angle, forming a ~v~, of which the point lies on the median line of the insect, against the lower face of the thorax. each of these pillars of flesh terminates suddenly at its upper extremity, as though cut short, and from the truncated portion rises a short, slender tendon, which is attached laterally to the corresponding cymbal. there is the whole mechanism, no less simple than that of the steel "cricket." the two muscular columns contract and relax, shorten and lengthen. by means of its terminal thread each sounds its cymbal, by depressing it and immediately releasing it, when its own elasticity makes it spring back into shape. these two vibrating scales are the source of the cigale's cry. do you wish to convince yourself of the efficiency of this mechanism? take a cigale but newly dead and make it sing. nothing is simpler. seize one of these muscular columns with the forceps and pull it in a series of careful jerks. the extinct _cri-cri_ comes to life again; at each jerk there is a clash of the cymbal. the sound is feeble, to be sure, deprived of the amplitude which the living performer is able to give it by means of his resonating chambers; none the less, the fundamental element of the song is produced by this anatomist's trick. would you, on the other hand, silence a living cigale?--that obstinate melomaniac, who, seized in the fingers, deplores his misfortune as loquaciously as ever he sang the joys of freedom in his tree? it is useless to violate his chapels, to break his mirrors; the atrocious mutilation would not quiet him. but introduce a needle by the lateral aperture which we have named the "window" and prick the cymbal at the bottom of the sound-box. a little touch and the perforated cymbal is silent. a similar operation on the other side of the insect and the insect is dumb, though otherwise as vigorous as before and without any perceptible wound. any one not in the secret would be amazed at the result of my pin-prick, when the destruction of the mirrors and the other dependencies of the "church" do not cause silence. a tiny perforation of no importance to the insect is more effectual than evisceration. the dampers, which are rigid and solidly built, are motionless. it is the abdomen itself which, by rising and falling, opens or closes the doors of the "church." when the abdomen is lowered the dampers exactly cover the chapels as well as the windows of the sound-boxes. the sound is then muted, muffled, diminished. when the abdomen rises the chapels are open, the windows unobstructed, and the sound acquires its full volume. the rapid oscillations of the abdomen, synchronising with the contractions of the motor muscles of the cymbals, determine the changing volume of the sound, which seems to be caused by rapidly repeated strokes of a fiddlestick. if the weather is calm and hot, towards mid-day the song of the cigale is divided into strophes of several seconds' duration, which are separated by brief intervals of silence. the strophe begins suddenly. in a rapid crescendo, the abdomen oscillating with increasing rapidity, it acquires its maximum volume; it remains for a few seconds at the same degree of intensity, then becomes weaker by degrees, and degenerates into a shake, which decreases as the abdomen returns to rest. with the last pulsations of the belly comes silence; the length of the silent interval varies according to the state of the atmosphere. then, of a sudden, begins a new strophe, a monotonous repetition of the first; and so on indefinitely. it often happens, especially during the hours of the sultry afternoons, that the insect, intoxicated with sunlight, shortens and even suppresses the intervals of silence. the song is then continuous, but always with an alternation of crescendo and diminuendo. the first notes are heard about seven or eight o'clock in the morning, and the orchestra ceases only when the twilight fails, about eight o'clock at night. the concert lasts a whole round of the clock. but if the sky is grey and the wind chilly the cigale is silent. the second species, only half the size of the common cigale, is known in provence as the _cacan_; the name, being a fairly exact imitation of the sound emitted by the insect. this is the cigale of the flowering ash, far more alert and far more suspicious than the common species. its harsh, loud song consists of a series of cries--_can! can! can! can!_--with no intervals of silence subdividing the poem into stanzas. thanks to its monotony and its harsh shrillness, it is a most odious sound, especially when the orchestra consists of hundreds of performers, as is often the case in my two plane-trees during the dog-days. it is as though a heap of dry walnuts were being shaken up in a bag until the shells broke. this painful concert, which is a real torment, offers only one compensation: the cigale of the flowering ash does not begin his song so early as the common cigale, and does not sing so late in the evening. although constructed on the same fundamental principles, the vocal organs exhibit a number of peculiarities which give the song its special character. the sound-box is lacking, which suppresses the entrance to it, or the window. the cymbal is uncovered, and is visible just behind the attachment of the hinder wing. it is, as before, a dry white scale, convex on the outside, and crossed by a bundle of fine reddish-brown nervures. [illustration: 1. the adult cigale, from below. 2. the adult cigale, from below. 3. the cigale of the flowering ash, male and female.] from the forward side of the first segment of the abdomen project two short, wide, tongue-shaped projections, the free extremities of which rest on the cymbals. these tongues may be compared to the blade of a watchman's rattle, only instead of engaging with the teeth of a rotating wheel they touch the nervures of the vibrating cymbal. from this fact, i imagine, results the harsh, grating quality of the cry. it is hardly possible to verify the fact by holding the insect in the fingers; the terrified _cacan_ does not go on singing his usual song. the dampers do not overlap; on the contrary, they are separated by a fairly wide interval. with the rigid tongues, appendages of the abdomen, they half shelter the cymbals, half of which is completely bare. under the pressure of the finger the abdomen opens a little at its articulation with the thorax. but the insect is motionless when it sings; there is nothing of the rapid vibrations of the belly which modulate the song of the common cigale. the chapels are very small; almost negligible as resonators. there are mirrors, as in the common cigale, but they are very small; scarcely a twenty-fifth of an inch in diameter. in short, the resonating mechanism, so highly developed in the common cigale, is here extremely rudimentary. how then is the feeble vibration of the cymbals re-enforced until it becomes intolerable? this species of cigale is a ventriloquist. if we examine the abdomen by transmitted light, we shall see that the anterior two-thirds of the abdomen are translucent. with a snip of the scissors we will cut off the posterior third, to which are relegated, reduced to the strictly indispensable, the organs necessary to the propagation of the species and the preservation of the individual. the rest of the abdomen presents a spacious cavity, and consists simply of the integuments of the walls, except on the dorsal side, which is lined with a thin muscular layer, and supports a fine digestive canal, almost a thread. this large cavity, equal to nearly half the total volume of the insect, is thus almost absolutely empty. at the back are seen the two motor muscles of the cymbals, two muscular columns arranged like the limbs of a ~v~. to right and left of the point of this ~v~ shine the tiny mirrors; and between the two branches of muscle the empty cavity is prolonged into the depths of the thorax. this empty abdomen with its thoracic annex forms an enormous resonator, such as no other performer in our countryside can boast of. if i close with my finger the orifice of the truncated abdomen the sound becomes flatter, in conformity with the laws affecting musical resonators; if i fit into the aperture of the open body a tube or trumpet of paper the sound grows louder as well as deeper. with a paper cone corresponding to the pitch of the note, with its large end held in the mouth of a test-tube acting as a resonator, we have no longer the cry of the cigale, but almost the bellowing of a bull. my little children, coming up to me by chance at the moment of this acoustic experiment, fled in terror. the grating quality of the sound appears to be due to the little tongues which press on the nervures of the vibrating cymbals; the cause of its intensity is of course the ample resonator in the abdomen. we must admit that one must truly have a real passion for song before one would empty one's chest and stomach in order to make room for a musical-box. the necessary vital organs are extremely small, confined to a mere corner of the body, in order to increase the amplitude of the resonating cavity. song comes first of all; other matters take the second rank. it is lucky that the _cacan_ does not follow the laws of evolution. if, more enthusiastic in each generation, it could acquire, in the course of progress, a ventral resonator comparable to my paper trumpets, the south of france would sooner or later become uninhabitable, and the _cacan_ would have provence to itself. after the details already given concerning the common cigale it is hardly needful to tell you how the insupportable _cacan_ can be reduced to silence. the cymbals are plainly visible on the exterior. pierce them with the point of a needle, and immediately you have perfect silence. if only there were, in my plane-trees, among the insects which carry gimlets, some friends of silence like myself, who would devote themselves to such a task! but no: a note would be lacking in the majestic symphony of harvest-tide. we are now familiar with the structure of the musical organ of the cigale. now the question arises: what is the object of these musical orgies? the reply seems obvious: they are the call of the males inviting their mates; they constitute a lovers' cantata. i am going to consider this reply, which is certainly a very natural one. for thirty years the common cigale and his unmusical friend the _cacan_ have thrust their society upon me. for two months every summer i have them under my eyes, and their voice in my ears. if i do not listen to them very willingly i observe them with considerable zeal. i see them ranged in rows on the smooth rind of the plane-trees, all with their heads uppermost, the two sexes mingled, and only a few inches apart. the proboscis thrust into the bark, they drink, motionless. as the sun moves, and with it the shadow, they also move round the branch with slow lateral steps, so as to keep upon that side which is most brilliantly illuminated, most fiercely heated. whether the proboscis is at work or not the song is never interrupted. now are we to take their interminable chant for a passionate love-song? i hesitate. in this gathering the two sexes are side by side. one does not spend months in calling a person who is at one's elbow. moreover, i have never seen a female rush into the midst of even the most deafening orchestra. sight is a sufficient prelude to marriage, for their sight is excellent. there is no need for the lover to make an everlasting declaration, for his mistress is his next-door neighbour. is the song a means of charming, of touching the hard of heart? i doubt it. i observe no sign of satisfaction in the females; i have never seen them tremble or sway upon their feet, though their lovers have clashed their cymbals with the most deafening vigour. my neighbours the peasants say that at harvest-time the cigale sings to them: _sego, sego, sego!_ (reap, reap, reap!) to encourage them in their work. harvesters of ideas and of ears of grain, we follow the same calling; the latter produce food for the stomach, the former food for the mind. thus i understand their explanation and welcome it as an example of gracious simplicity. science asks for a better explanation, but finds in the insect a world which is closed to us. there is no possibility of foreseeing, or even of suggesting the impression produced by this clashing of cymbals upon those who inspire it. the most i can say is that their impassive exterior seems to denote a complete indifference. i do not insist that this is so; the intimate feelings of the insect are an insoluble mystery. another reason for doubt is this: all creatures affected by song have acute hearing, and this sense of hearing, a vigilant sentinel, should give warning of danger at the slightest sound. the birds have an exquisite delicacy of hearing. if a leaf stirs among the branches, if two passers-by exchange a word, they are suddenly silent, anxious, and on their guard. but the cigale is far from sharing in such emotions. it has excellent sight. its great faceted eyes inform it of all that happens to right and left; its three stemmata, like little ruby telescopes, explore the sky above its head. if it sees us coming it is silent at once, and flies away. but let us get behind the branch on which it is singing; let us manoeuvre so as to avoid the five centres of vision, and then let us speak, whistle, clap the hands, beat two stones together. for far less a bird which could not see you would stop its song and fly away terrified. the cigale imperturbably continues to sing as if nothing had occurred. of my experiences of this kind i will mention only one, the most remarkable of many. i borrowed the municipal artillery; that is, the iron boxes which are charged with gunpowder on the day of the patron saint. the artilleryman was delighted to load them for the benefit of the cigales, and to fire them off for me before my house. there were two of these boxes stuffed full of powder as though for the most solemn rejoicing. never was politician making his electoral progress favoured with a bigger charge. to prevent damage to my windows the sashes were all left open. the two engines of detonation were placed at the foot of the plane-trees before my door, no precautions being taken to mask them. the cigales singing in the branches above could not see what was happening below. there were six of us, spectators and auditors. we waited for a moment of relative quiet. the number of singers was counted by each of us, as well as the volume and rhythm of the song. we stood ready, our ears attentive to the aerial orchestra. the box exploded with a clap of thunder. no disturbance ensued above. the number of performers was the same, the rhythm the same, the volume the same. the six witnesses were unanimous: the loud explosion had not modified the song of the cigales in the least. the second box gave an identical result. what are we to conclude from this persistence of the orchestra, its lack of surprise or alarm at the firing of a charge? shall we conclude that the cigale is deaf? i am not going to venture so far as that; but if any one bolder than myself were to make the assertion i really do not know what reasons i could invoke to disprove it. i should at least be forced to admit that it is very hard of hearing, and that we may well apply to it the homely and familiar phrase: to shout like a deaf man. when the blue-winged cricket, basking on the pebbles of some country footpath, grows deliciously intoxicated with the heat of the sun and rubs its great posterior thighs against the roughened edge of its wing-covers; when the green tree-frog swells its throat in the foliage of the bushes, distending it to form a resonant cavity when the rain is imminent, is it calling to its absent mate? by no means. the efforts of the former produce a scarcely perceptible stridulation; the palpitating throat of the latter is as ineffectual; and the desired one does not come. does the insect really require to emit these resounding effusions, these vociferous avowals, in order to declare its passion? consult the immense majority whom the conjunction of the sexes leaves silent. in the violin of the grasshopper, the bagpipe of the tree-frog, and the cymbals of the _cacan_ i see only their peculiar means of expressing the joy of living, the universal joy which every species of animal expresses after its kind. if you were to tell me that the cigales play on their noisy instruments careless of the sound produced, and merely for the pleasure of feeling themselves alive, just as we rub our hands in a moment of satisfaction, i should not be particularly shocked. that there is a secondary object in their conceit, in which the silent sex is interested, is very possible and very natural, but it is not as yet proven.[1] chapter iv the cigale. the eggs and their hatching the cigale confides its eggs to dry, slender twigs. all the branches examined by réaumur which bore such eggs were branches of the mulberry: a proof that the person entrusted with the search for these eggs in the neighbourhood of avignon did not bring much variety to his quest. i find these eggs not only on the mulberry-tree, but on the peach, the cherry, the willow, the japanese privet, and other trees. but these are exceptions; what the cigale really prefers is a slender twig of a thickness varying from that of a straw to that of a pencil. it should have a thin woody layer and plenty of pith. if these conditions are fulfilled the species matters little. i should pass in review all the semi-ligneous plants of the country were i to catalogue the various supports which are utilised by the gravid female. its chosen twig never lies along the ground; it is always in a more or less vertical position. it is usually growing in its natural position, but is sometimes detached; in the latter case it will by chance have fallen so that it retains its upright position. the insect prefers a long, smooth, regular twig which can receive the whole of its eggs. the best batches of eggs which i have found have been laid upon twigs of the _spartium junceum_, which are like straws stuffed with pith, and especially on the upper twigs of the _asphodelus cerasiferus_, which rises nearly a yard from the ground before ramifying. it is essential that the support, no matter what its nature, should be dead and perfectly dry. the first operation performed by the cigale consists in making a series of slight lacerations, such as one might make with the point of a pin, which, if plunged obliquely downwards into the twig, would tear the woody fibres and would compress them so as to form a slight protuberance. if the twig is irregular in shape, or if several cigales have been working successively at the same point, the distribution of the punctures is confused; the eye wanders, incapable of recognising the order of their succession or the work of the individual. one characteristic is always present, namely, the oblique direction of the woody fragment which is raised by the perforation, showing that the cigale always works in an upright position and plunges its rostrum downwards in the direction of the twig. if the twig is regular, smooth, and conveniently long the perforations are almost equidistant and lie very nearly in a straight line. their number varies; it is small when the mother, disturbed in her operations, has flown away to continue her work elsewhere; but they number thirty or forty, more or less, when they contain the whole of her eggs. each one of the perforations is the entrance to an oblique tunnel, which is bored in the medullary sheath of the twig. the aperture is not closed, except by the bunch of woody fibres, which, parted at the moment when the eggs are laid, recover themselves when the double saw of the oviduct is removed. sometimes, but by no means always, you may see between the fibres a tiny glistening patch like a touch of dried white of egg. this is only an insignificant trace of some albuminous secretion accompanying the egg or facilitating the work of the double saw of the oviduct. immediately below the aperture of the perforation is the egg chamber: a short, tunnel-shaped cavity which occupies almost the whole distance between one opening and that lying below it. sometimes the separating partition is lacking, and the various chambers run into one another, so that the eggs, although introduced by the various apertures, are arranged in an uninterrupted row. this arrangement, however, is not the most usual. the contents of the chambers vary greatly. i find in each from six to fifteen eggs. the average is ten. the total number of chambers varying from thirty to forty, it follows that the cigale lays from three to four hundred eggs. réaumur arrived at the same figures from an examination of the ovaries. this is truly a fine family, capable by sheer force of numbers of surviving the most serious dangers. i do not see that the adult cigale is exposed to greater dangers than any other insect: its eye is vigilant, its departure sudden, and its flight rapid; and it inhabits heights at which the prowling brigands of the turf are not to be feared. the sparrow, it is true, will greedily devour it. from time to time he will deliberately and meditatively descend upon the plane-trees from the neighbouring roof and snatch up the singer, who squeaks despairingly. a few blows of the beak and the cigale is cut into quarters, delicious morsels for the nestlings. but how often does the bird return without his prey! the cigale, foreseeing his attack, empties its intestine in the eyes of its assailant and flies away. but the cigale has a far more terrible enemy than the sparrow. this is the green grasshopper. it is late, and the cigales are silent. drowsy with light and heat, they have exhausted themselves in producing their symphonies all day long. night has come, and with it repose; but a repose frequently troubled. in the thick foliage of the plane-trees there is a sudden sound like a cry of anguish, short and strident. it is the despairing lamentation of the cigale surprised in the silence by the grasshopper, that ardent hunter of the night, which leaps upon the cigale, seizes it by the flank, tears it open, and devours the contents of the stomach. after the orgy of music comes night and assassination. i obtained an insight into this tragedy in the following manner: i was walking up and down before my door at daybreak when something fell from the neighbouring plane-tree uttering shrill squeaks. i ran to see what it was. i found a green grasshopper eviscerating a struggling cigale. in vain did the latter squeak and gesticulate; the other never loosed its hold, but plunged its head into the entrails of the victim and removed them by little mouthfuls. [illustration: 1. the cigale laying her eggs. 2. the green grasshopper, the false cigale of the north, devouring the true cigale, a dweller in the south.] this was instructive. the attack was delivered high up above my head, in the early morning, while the cigale was resting; and the struggles of the unfortunate creature as it was dissected alive had resulted in the fall of assailant and assailed together. since then i have often been the witness of similar assassinations. i have even seen the grasshopper, full of audacity, launch itself in pursuit of the cigale, who fled in terror. so the sparrow-hawk pursues the skylark in the open sky. but the bird of prey is less ferocious than the insect; it pursues a creature smaller than itself. the locust, on the contrary, assails a colossus, far larger and far more vigorous than its enemy; yet the result is a foregone conclusion, in spite of this disproportion. with its powerful mandibles, like pincers of steel, the grasshopper rarely fails to eviscerate its captive, which, being weaponless, can only shriek and struggle. the cigale is an easy prey during its hours of somnolence. every cigale encountered by the ferocious grasshopper on its nocturnal round must miserably perish. thus are explained those sudden squeaks of anguish which are sometimes heard in the boughs during the hours of the night and early morning, although the cymbals have long been silent. the sea-green bandit has fallen upon some slumbering cigale. when i wished to rear some green grasshoppers i had not far to seek for the diet of my pensioners; i fed them on cigales, of which enormous numbers were consumed in my breeding-cages. it is therefore an established fact that the green grasshopper, the false cigale of the north, will eagerly devour the true cigale, the inhabitant of the midi. but it is neither the sparrow nor the green grasshopper that has forced the cigale to produce such a vast number of offspring. the real danger is elsewhere, as we shall see. the risk is enormous at the moment of hatching and also when the egg is laid. two or three weeks after its escape from the earth--that is, about the middle of july--the cigale begins to lay. in order to observe the process without trusting too much to chance, i took certain precautions which would, i felt sure, prove successful. the dry asphodelus is the support preferred by the insect, as previous observations had assured me. it was also the plant which best lent itself to my experiments, on account of its long, smooth stems. now, during the first years of my residence in the south i replaced the thistles in my paddock by other native plants of a less stubborn and prickly species. among the new occupants was the asphodel. this was precisely what i needed for my experiments. i left the dry stems of the preceding year in place, and when the breeding season arrived i inspected them daily. i had not long to wait. as early as july 15th i found as many cigales as i could wish on the stems of the asphodel, all in process of laying. the gravid female is always solitary. each mother has her twig to herself, and is in no danger of being disturbed during the delicate operation of laying. when the first occupant has departed another may take her place, and so on indefinitely. there is abundance of room for all; but each prefers to be alone as her turn arrives. there is, however, no unpleasantness of any kind; everything passes most peacefully. if a female cigale finds a place which has been already taken she flies away and seeks another twig directly she discovers her mistake. the gravid female always retains an upright position at this time, as indeed she does at other times. she is so absorbed in her task that she may readily be watched, even through a magnifying glass. the ovipositor, which is about four-tenths of an inch in length, is plunged obliquely and up to the hilt into the twig. so perfect is the tool that the operation is by no means troublesome. we see the cigale tremble slightly, dilating and contracting the extremity of the abdomen in frequent palpitations. this is all that can be seen. the boring instrument, consisting of a double saw, alternately rises and sinks in the rind of the twig with a gentle, almost imperceptible movement. nothing in particular occurs during the process of laying the eggs. the insect is motionless, and hardly ten minutes elapse between the first cut of the ovipositor and the filling of the egg-chamber with eggs. the ovipositor is then withdrawn with methodical deliberation, in order that it may not be strained or bent. the egg-chamber closes of its own accord as the woody fibres which have been displaced return to their position, and the cigale climbs a little higher, moving upwards in a straight line, by about the length of its ovipositor. it then makes another puncture and a fresh chamber for another ten or twelve eggs. in this way it scales the twig from bottom to top. these facts being understood, we are able to explain the remarkable arrangement of the eggs. the openings in the rind of the twig are practically equidistant, since each time the cigale moves upward it is by a given length, namely, that of the ovipositor. very rapid in flight, she is a very idle walker. at the most you may see her, on the living twig from which she is drinking, moving at a slow, almost solemn pace, to gain a more sunny point close at hand. on the dry twig in which she deposits her eggs she observes the same formal habits, and even exaggerates them, in view of the importance of the operation. she moves as little as possible, just so far as she must in order to avoid running two adjacent egg-chambers into one. the extent of each movement upwards is approximately determined by the depth of the perforation. the apertures are arranged in a straight line when their number is not very large. why, indeed, should the insect wander to right or to left upon a twig which presents the same surface all over? a lover of the sun, she chooses that side of the twig which is most exposed to it. so long as she feels the heat, her supreme joy, upon her back, she will take good care not to change the position which she finds so delightful for another in which the sun would fall upon her less directly. the process of depositing the eggs is a lengthy one when it is carried out entirely on the same twig. counting ten minutes for each egg-chamber, the full series of forty would represent a period of six or seven hours. the sun will of course move through a considerable distance before the cigale can finish her work. in such cases the series of apertures follows a spiral curve. the insect turns round the stalk as the sun turns. very often as the cigale is absorbed in her maternal task a diminutive fly, also full of eggs, busily exterminates the cigale's eggs as fast as they are laid. this insect was known to réaumur. in nearly all the twigs examined he found its grub, the cause of a misunderstanding at the beginning of his researches. but he did not, could not see the audacious insect at work. it is one of the chalcididæ, about one-fifth or one-sixth of an inch in length; entirely black, with knotty antennæ, which are slightly thicker towards their extremities. the unsheathed ovipositor is implanted in the under portion of the abdomen, about the middle, and at right angles to the axis of the body, as in the case of the leucospis, the pest of the apiary. not having taken the precaution to capture it, i do not know what name the entomologists have bestowed upon it, or even if this dwarf exterminator of the cigale has as yet been catalogued. what i am familiar with is its calm temerity, its impudent audacity in the presence of the colossus who could crush it with a foot. i have seen as many as three at once exploiting the unfortunate female. they keep close behind the cigale, working busily with their probes, or waiting until their victim deposits her eggs. the cigale fills one of her egg-chambers and climbs a little higher in order to bore another hole. one of the bandits runs to the abandoned station, and there, almost under the claws of the giant, and without the least nervousness, as if it were accomplishing some meritorious action, it unsheathes its probe and thrusts it into the column of eggs, not by the open aperture, which is bristling with broken fibres, but by a lateral fissure. the probes works slowly, as the wood is almost intact. the cigale has time to fill the adjacent chamber. as soon as she has finished one of these midges, the very same that has been performing its task below her, replaces her and introduces its disastrous egg. by the time the cigale departs, her ovaries empty, the majority of the egg-chambers have thus received the alien egg which will work the destruction of their contents. a small, quick-hatching grub, richly nourished on a dozen eggs, will replace the family of the cigale. the experience of centuries has taught the cigale nothing. with her excellent eyesight she must be able to perceive these terrible sappers as they hover about her, meditating their crime. too peaceable giantess! if you see them why do you not seize them in your talons, crush the pigmies at their work, so that you may proceed with your travail in security? but no, you will leave them untouched; you cannot modify your instincts, even to alleviate your maternal misfortunes. the eggs of the common cigale are of a shining ivory white. conical at the ends, and elongated in form, they might be compared in shape to the weaver's shuttle. their length is about one-tenth of an inch, their diameter about one-fiftieth. they are packed in a row, slightly overlapping one another. the eggs of the cacan are slightly smaller, and are assembled in regular groups which remind one of microscopical bundles of cigars. we will consider the eggs of the common cigale to the exclusion of the others, as their history is the history of all. september is not yet over when the shining white as of ivory gives way to the yellow hue of cheese. during the first days of october you may see, at the forward end of the egg, two tiny points of chestnut brown, which are the eyes of the embryo in formation. these two shining eyes, which almost seem to gaze at one, and the cone-shaped head of the egg, give it the look of a tiny fish without fins--a fish for whom half a nut-shell would make a capacious aquarium. about the same time i notice frequently, on the asphodels in the paddock and on those of the neighbouring hills, certain indications that the eggs have recently hatched out. there are certain cast-off articles of clothing, certain rags and tatters, left on the threshold of the egg-chamber by the new-born grubs as they leave it and hurry in search of a new lodging. we shall see in a moment what these vestiges mean. but in spite of my visits, which were so assiduous as to deserve success, i had never contrived to see the young cigales emerge from their egg-chambers. my domestic researches had been pursued in vain. two years running i had collected, in boxes, tubes, and bottles, a hundred twigs of every kind which were peopled by the eggs of the cigale; but not one had shown me what i so desired to witness: the issue of the new-born cigales. réaumur experienced the same disappointment. he tells us how all the eggs supplied by his friends were abortive, even when he placed them in a glass tube thrust under his armpit, in order to keep them at a high temperature. no, venerable master! neither the temperate shelter of our studies and laboratories, nor the incubating warmth of our bodies is sufficient here; we need the supreme stimulant, the kiss of the sun; after the cool of the mornings, which are already sharp, the sudden blaze of the superb autumn weather, the last endearments of summer. it was under such circumstances, when a blazing sun followed a cold night, that i found the signs of completed incubation; but i always came too late; the young cigales had departed. at most i sometimes found one hanging by a thread to its natal stem and struggling in the air. i supposed it to be caught in a thread of gossamer, or some shred of cobweb. at last, on the 27th of october, despairing of success, i gathered some asphodels from the orchard, and the armful of dry twigs in which the cigales had laid their eggs was taken up to my study. before giving up all hope i proposed once more to examine the egg-chambers and their contents. the morning was cold, and the first fire of the season had been lit in my room. i placed my little bundle on a chair before the fire, but without any intention of testing the effect of the heat of the flames upon the concealed eggs. the twigs, which i was about to cut open, one by one, were placed there to be within easy reach of my hand, and for no other reason. then, while i was examining a split twig with my magnifying-glass, the phenomenon which i had given up all hope of observing took place under my eyes. my bundle of twigs was suddenly alive; scores and scores of the young larvæ were emerging from their egg-chambers. their numbers were such that my ambition as observer was amply satisfied. the eggs were ripe, on the point of hatching, and the warmth of the fire, bright and penetrating, had the effect of sunlight in the open. i was quick to profit by the unexpected piece of good fortune. at the orifice of the egg-chamber, among the torn fibres of the bark, a little cone-shaped body is visible, with two black eye-spots; in appearance it is precisely like the fore portion of the butter-coloured egg; or, as i have said, like the fore portion of a tiny fish. you would think that an egg had been somehow displaced, had been removed from the bottom of the chamber to its aperture. an egg to move in this narrow passage! a walking egg! no, that is impossible; eggs "do not do such things!" this is some mistake. we will break open the twig, and the mystery is unveiled. the actual eggs are where they always were, though they are slightly disarranged. they are empty, reduced to the condition of transparent skins, split wide open at the upper end. from them has issued the singular organism whose most notable characteristics are as follows:-in its general form, the configuration of the head and the great black eyes, the creature, still more than the egg, has the appearance of an extremely minute fish. a simulacrum of a ventral fin increases the resemblance. this apparent fin in reality consists of the two fore-limbs, which, packed in a special sheath, are bent backwards, stretched out against one another in a straight line. its small degree of mobility must enable the grub to escape from the egg-shell and, with greater difficulty, from the woody tunnel leading to the open air. moving outwards a little from the body, and then moving back again, this lever serves as a means of progression, its terminal hooks being already fairly strong. the four other feet are still covered by the common envelope, and are absolutely inert. it is the same with the antennæ, which can scarcely be seen through the magnifying-glass. the organism which has issued from the egg is a boat-shaped body with a fin-shaped limb pointing backwards on the ventral face, formed by the junction of the two fore-limbs. the segmentation of the body is very clear, especially on the abdomen. the whole body is perfectly smooth, without the least suspicion of hair. what name are we to give to this initial phase of the cigale--a phase so strange, so unforeseen, and hitherto unsuspected? must i amalgamate some more or less appropriate words of greek and fabricate a portentous nomenclature? no, for i feel sure that barbarous alien phrases are only a hindrance to science. i will call it simply the _primary larva_, as i have done in the case of the meloides, the leucospis, and the anthrax. the form of the primary larva of the cigale is eminently adapted to its conditions and facilitates its escape. the tunnel in which the egg is hatched is very narrow, leaving only just room for passage. moreover, the eggs are arranged in a row, not end to end, but partially overlapping. the larva escaping from the hinder ranks has to squeeze past the empty shells, still in position, of the eggs which have already hatched, so that the narrowness of the passage is increased by the empty egg-shells. under these conditions the larva as it will be presently, when it has torn its temporary wrappings, would be unable to effect the difficult passage. with the encumbrance of antennæ, with long limbs spreading far out from the axis of the body, with curved, pointed talons which hook themselves into their medium of support, everything would militate against a prompt liberation. the eggs in one chamber hatch almost simultaneously. it is therefore essential that the first-born larvæ should hurry out of their shelter as quickly as possible, leaving the passage free for those behind them. hence the boat-like shape, the smooth hairless body without projections, which easily squeezes its way past obstructions. the primary larva, with its various appendages closely wrapped against its body by a common sheath, with its fish-like form and its single and only partially movable limb, is perfectly adapted to make the difficult passage to the outer air. this phase is of short duration. here, for instance, a migrating larva shows its head, with its big black eyes, and raises the broken fibres of the entrance. it gradually works itself forward, but so slowly that the magnifying-glass scarcely reveals its progress. at the end of half an hour at the shortest we see the entire body of the creature; but the orifice by which it is escaping still holds it by the hinder end of the body. then, without further delay, the coat which it wears for this rough piece of work begins to split, and the larva skins itself, coming out of its wrappings head first. it is then the normal larva; the only form known to réaumur. the rejected coat forms a suspensory thread, expanding at its free end to form a little cup. in this cup is inserted the end of the abdomen of the larva, which, before allowing itself to fall to earth, takes a sun-bath, grows harder, stretches itself, and tries its strength, lightly swinging at the end of its life-line. this little flea, as réaumur calls it, first white, then amber-coloured, is precisely the larva which will delve in the earth. the antennæ, of fair length, are free and waving to and fro; the limbs are bending at their articulations; the fore-limbs, which are relatively powerful, open and shut their talons. i can scarcely think of any more curious spectacle than that of this tiny gymnast hanging by its tail, swinging to the faintest breath, and preparing in the air for its entry into the world. it hangs there for a variable period; some larvæ let themselves fall at the end of half an hour; others spend hours in their long-stemmed cup; some even remain suspended until the following day. whether soon or late, the fall of the larva leaves suspended the thread by which it hung, the wrappings of the primary larva. when all the brood have disappeared, the aperture of the nest is thus hung with a branch of fine, short threads, twisted and knotted together, like dried white of egg. each thread is expanded into a tiny cup at its free end. these are very delicate and ephemeral relics, which perish at a touch. the least wind quickly blows them away. let us return to the larva. sooner or later, as we have seen, it falls to the ground, either by accident or intention. the tiny creature, no bigger than a flea, has preserved its tender newly-hatched flesh from contact with the rough earth by hanging in the air until its tissues have hardened. now it plunges into the troubles of life. i foresee a thousand dangers ahead. a mere breath of wind may carry this atom away, and cast it on that inaccessible rock in the midst of a rut in the road which still contains a little water; or on the sand, the region of famine where nothing grows; or upon a soil of clay, too tenacious to be tunnelled. these mortal accidents are frequent, for gusts of wind are frequent in the windy and already severe weather of the end of october. this delicate organism requires a very soft soil, which can easily be entered, so that it may immediately obtain a suitable shelter. the cold days are coming; soon the frosts will be here. to wander on the surface would expose it to grave perils. it must contrive without delay to descend into the earth, and that to no trivial depth. this is the unique and imperative condition of safety, and in many cases it is impossible of realisation. what use are the claws of this tiny flea against rock, sandstone, or hardened clay? the creature must perish if it cannot find a subterranean refuge in good time. everything goes to show that the necessity of this first foothold on the soil, subject as it is to so many accidents, is the cause of the great mortality in the cigale family. the little black parasite, the destroyer of eggs, in itself evokes the necessity of a large batch of eggs; and the difficulty which the larva experiences in effecting a safe lodgment in the earth is yet another explanation of the fact that the maintenance of the race at its proper strength requires a batch of three or four hundred eggs from each mother. subject to many accidents, the cigale is fertile to excess. by the prodigality of her ovaries she conjures the host of perils which threaten her offspring. during the rest of my experiment i can at least spare the larvæ the worst difficulties of their first establishment underground. i take some soil from the heath, which is very soft and almost black, and i pass it through a fine sieve. its colour will enable me more easily to find the tiny fair-skinned larvæ when i wish to inform myself of passing events; its lightness makes it a suitable refuge for such weak and fragile beings. i pack it pretty firmly in a glass vase; i plant in it a little tuft of thyme; i sow in it a few grains of wheat. there is no hole at the bottom of the vase, although there should be one for the benefit of the thyme and the corn; but the captives would find it and escape by it. the plantation and the crop will suffer from this lack of drainage, but at least i am sure of recovering my larvæ with the help of patience and a magnifying-glass. moreover, i shall go gently in the matter of irrigation, giving only just enough water to save the plants from perishing. when all is in order, and when the wheat is beginning to shoot, i place six young larvæ of the cigale on the surface of the soil. the tiny creatures begin to pace hither and thither; they soon explore the surface of their world, and some try vainly to climb the sides of the vase. not one of them seems inclined to bury itself; so that i ask myself anxiously what can be the object of their prolonged and active explorations. two hours go by, but their wanderings continue. what do they want? food? i offer them some tiny bulbs with bundles of sprouting roots, a few fragments of leaves and some fresh blades of grass. nothing tempts them; nothing brings them to a standstill. apparently they are seeking for a favourable point before descending into the earth. but there is no need for this hesitating exploration on the soil i have prepared for them; the whole area, or so it seems to me, lends itself excellently to the operations which i am expecting to see them commence. yet apparently it will not answer the purpose. under natural conditions a little wandering might well be indispensable. spots as soft as my bed of earth from the roots of the briar-heather, purged of all hard bodies and finely sifted, are rare in nature. coarse soils are more usual, on which the tiny creatures could make no impression. the larva must wander at hazard, must make a pilgrimage of indefinite duration before finding a favourable place. very many, no doubt, perish, exhausted by their fruitless search. a voyage of exploration in a country a few inches wide evidently forms part of the curriculum of young cigales. in my glass prison, so luxuriously furnished, this pilgrimage is useless. never mind: it must be accomplished according to the consecrated rites. at last my wanderers grow less excited. i see them attack the earth with the curved talons of their fore-limbs, digging their claws into it and making such an excavation as the point of a thick needle would enter. with a magnifying-glass i watch their picks at work. i see their talons raking atom after atom of earth to the surface. in a few minutes there is a little gaping well. the larva climbs downwards and buries itself, henceforth invisible. on the morrow i turn out the contents of the vase without breaking the mould, which is held together by the roots of the thyme and the wheat. i find all my larvæ at the bottom, arrested by the glass. in twenty-four hours they had sunk themselves through the entire thickness of the earth--a matter of some four inches. but for obstacle at the bottom they would have sunk even further. on the way they have probably encountered the rootlets of my little plantation. did they halt in order to take a little nourishment by implanting their proboscis? this is hardly probable, for a few rootlets were pressed against the bottom of the glass, but none of my prisoners were feeding. perhaps the shock of reversing the pot detached them. it is obvious that underground there is no other nourishment for them than the sap of roots. adult or larva, the cigale is a strict vegetarian. as an adult insect it drinks the sap of twigs and branches; as a larva it sucks the sap of roots. but at what stage does it take the first sip? that i do not know as yet, but the foregoing experiment seems to show that the newly hatched larva is in greater haste to burrow deep into the soil, so as to obtain shelter from the coming winter, than to station itself at the roots encountered in its passage downwards. i replace the mass of soil in the vase, and the six exhumed larvæ are once more placed on the surface of the soil. this time they commence to dig at once, and have soon disappeared. finally the vase is placed in my study window, where it will be subject to the influences, good and ill, of the outer air. a month later, at the end of november, i pay the young cigales a second visit. they are crouching, isolated at the bottom of the mould. they do not adhere to the roots; they have not grown; their appearance has not altered. such as they were at the beginning of the experiment, such they are now, but rather less active. does not this lack of growth during november, the mildest month of winter, prove that no nourishment is taken until the spring? the young sitares, which are also very minute, directly they issue from the egg at the entrance of the tubes of the anthrophorus, remain motionless, assembled in a heap, and pass the whole of the winter in a state of complete abstinence. the young cigales apparently behave in a very similar fashion. once they have burrowed to such depths as will safeguard them from the frosts they sleep in solitude in their winter quarters, and await the return of spring before piercing some neighbouring root and taking their first repast. i have tried unsuccessfully to confirm these deductions by observation. in april i unpotted my plant of thyme for the third time. i broke up the mould and spread it under the magnifying-glass. it was like looking for needles in a haystack; but at last i recovered my little cigales. they were dead, perhaps of cold, in spite of the bell-glass with which i had covered the pot, or perhaps of starvation, if the thyme was not a suitable food-plant. i give up the problem as too difficult of solution. to rear such larvæ successfully one would require a deep, extensive bed of earth which would shelter them from the winter cold; and, as i do not know what roots they prefer, a varied vegetation, so that the little creatures could choose according to their taste. these conditions are by no means impracticable, but how, in the large earthy mass, containing at least a cubic yard of soil, should we recover the atoms i had so much trouble to find in a handful of black soil from the heath? moreover, such a laborious search would certainly detach the larva from its root. the early subterranean life of the cigale escapes us. that of the maturer larva is no better known. nothing is more common, while digging in the fields to any depth, to find these impetuous excavators under the spade; but to surprise them fixed upon the roots which incontestably nourish them is quite another matter. the disturbance of the soil warns the larva of danger. it withdraws its proboscis in order to retreat along its galleries, and when the spade uncovers it has ceased to feed. if the hazards of field-work, with its inevitable disturbance of the larvæ, cannot teach us anything of their subterranean habits, we can at least learn something of the duration of the larval stage. some obliging farmers, who were making some deep excavations in march, were good enough to collect for me all the larvæ, large and small, unearthed in the course of their labour. the total collection amounted to several hundreds. they were divided, by very clearly marked differences of size, into three categories: the large larvæ, with rudiments of wings, such as those larvæ caught upon leaving the earth possess; the medium-sized, and the small. each of these stages must correspond to a different age. to these we may add the larvæ produced by the last hatching of eggs, creatures too minute to be noticed by my rustic helpers, and we obtain four years as the probable term of the larvæ underground. the length of their aerial existence is more easily computed. i hear the first cigales about the summer solstice. a month later the orchestra has attained its full power. a very few late singers execute their feeble solos until the middle of september. this is the end of the concert. as all the larvæ do not issue from the ground at the same time, it is evident that the singers of september are not contemporary with those that began to sing at the solstice. taking the average between these two dates, we get five weeks as the probable duration of the cigales' life on earth. four years of hard labour underground, and a month of feasting in the sun; such is the life of the cigale. do not let us again reproach the adult insect with his triumphant delirium. for four years, in the darkness he has worn a dirty parchment overall; for four years he has mined the soil with his talons, and now the mud-stained sapper is suddenly clad in the finest raiment, and provided with wings that rival the bird's; moreover, he is drunken with heat and flooded with light, the supreme terrestrial joy. his cymbals will never suffice to celebrate such felicity, so well earned although so ephemeral. chapter v the mantis.--the chase there is another creature of the midi which is quite as curious and interesting as the cigale, but much less famous, as it is voiceless. if providence had provided it with cymbals, which are a prime element of popularity, it would soon have eclipsed the renown of the celebrated singer, so strange is its shape, and so peculiar its manners. it is called by the provençals _lou prègo-diéu_, the creature which prays to god. its official name is the praying mantis (_mantis religiosa_, lin.). for once the language of science and the vocabulary of the peasant agree. both represent the mantis as a priestess delivering oracles, or an ascetic in a mystic ecstasy. the comparison is a matter of antiquity. the ancient greeks called the insect [greek: mantis], the divine, the prophet. the worker in the fields is never slow in perceiving analogies; he will always generously supplement the vagueness of the facts. he has seen, on the sun-burned herbage of the meadows, an insect of commanding appearance, drawn up in majestic attitude. he has noticed its wide, delicate wings of green, trailing behind it like long linen veils; he has seen its fore-limbs, its arms, so to speak, raised towards to the sky in a gesture of invocation. this was enough: popular imagination has done the rest; so that since the period of classical antiquity the bushes have been peopled with priestesses emitting oracles and nuns in prayer. good people, how very far astray your childlike simplicity has led you! these attitudes of prayer conceal the most atrocious habits; these supplicating arms are lethal weapons; these fingers tell no rosaries, but help to exterminate the unfortunate passer-by. it is an exception that we should never look for in the vegetarian family of the orthoptera, but the mantis lives exclusively upon living prey. it is the tiger of the peaceful insect peoples; the ogre in ambush which demands a tribute of living flesh. if it only had sufficient strength its blood-thirsty appetites, and its horrible perfection of concealment would make it the terror of the countryside. the _prègo-diéu_ would become a satanic vampire. apart from its lethal weapon the mantis has nothing about it to inspire apprehension. it does not lack a certain appearance of graciousness, with its slender body, its elegant waist-line, its tender green colouring, and its long gauzy wings. no ferocious jaws, opening like shears; on the contrary, a fine pointed muzzle which seems to be made for billing and cooing. thanks to a flexible neck, set freely upon the thorax, the head can turn to right or left as on a pivot, bow, or raise itself high in the air. alone among insects, the mantis is able to direct its gaze; it inspects and examines; it has almost a physiognomy. there is a very great contrast between the body as a whole, which has a perfectly peaceable aspect, and the murderous fore-limbs. the haunch of the fore-limb is unusually long and powerful. its object is to throw forward the living trap which does not wait for the victim, but goes in search of it. the snare is embellished with a certain amount of ornamentation. on the inner face the base of the haunch is decorated with a pretty black spot relieved by smaller spots of white, and a few rows of fine pearly spots complete the ornamentation. the thigh, still longer, like a flattened spindle, carries on the forward half of the lower face a double row of steely spines. the innermost row contains a dozen, alternately long and black and short and green. this alternation of unequal lengths makes the weapon more effectual for holding. the outer row is simpler, having only four teeth. finally, three needle-like spikes, the longest of all, rise behind the double series of spikes. in short, the thigh is a saw with two parallel edges, separated by a groove in which the foreleg lies when folded. the foreleg, which is attached to the thigh by a very flexible articulation, is also a double-edged saw, but the teeth are smaller, more numerous, and closer than those of the thigh. it terminates in a strong hook, the point of which is as sharp as the finest needle: a hook which is fluted underneath and has a double blade like a pruning-knife. a weapon admirably adapted for piercing and tearing, this hook has sometimes left me with visible remembrances. caught in turn by the creature which i had just captured, and not having both hands free, i have often been obliged to get a second person to free me from my tenacious captive! to free oneself by violence without disengaging the firmly implanted talons would result in lacerations such as the thorns of a rosebush will produce. none of our insects is so inconvenient to handle. the mantis digs its knife-blades into your flesh, pierces you with its needles, seizes you as in a vice, and renders self-defence almost impossible if, wishing to take your quarry alive, you refrain from crushing it out of existence. when the mantis is in repose its weapons are folded and pressed against the thorax, and are perfectly inoffensive in appearance. the insect is apparently praying. but let a victim come within reach, and the attitude of prayer is promptly abandoned. suddenly unfolded, the three long joints of the deadly fore-limbs shoot out their terminal talons, which strike the victim and drag it backwards between the two saw-blades of the thighs. the vice closes with a movement like that of the forearm upon the upper arm, and all is over; crickets, grasshoppers, and even more powerful insects, once seized in this trap with its four rows of teeth, are lost irreparably. their frantic struggles will never release the hold of this terrible engine of destruction. the habits of the mantis cannot be continuously studied in the freedom of the fields; the insect must be domesticated. there is no difficulty here; the mantis is quite indifferent to imprisonment under glass, provided it is well fed. offer it a tasty diet, feed it daily, and it will feel but little regret for its native thickets. for cages i use a dozen large covers of wire gauze, such as are used in the larder to protect meat from the flies. each rests upon a tray full of sand. a dry tuft of thyme and a flat stone on which the eggs may be laid later on complete the furnishing of such a dwelling. these cages are placed in a row on the large table in my entomological laboratory, where the sun shines on them during the greater part of the day. there i install my captives; some singly, some in groups. it is in the latter half of august that i begin to meet with the adult insect on the faded herbage and the brambles at the roadside. the females, whose bellies are already swollen, are more numerous every day. their slender companions, on the other hand, are somewhat rare, and i often have some trouble in completing my couples; whose relations will finally be terminated by a tragic consummation. but we will reserve these amenities for a later time, and will consider the females first. they are tremendous eaters, so that their entertainment, when it lasts for some months is not without difficulties. their provisions must be renewed every day, for the greater part are disdainfully tasted and thrown aside. on its native bushes i trust the mantis is more economical. game is not too abundant, so that she doubtless devours her prey to the last atom; but in my cages it is always at hand. often, after a few mouthfuls, the insect will drop the juicy morsel without displaying any further interest in it. such is the ennui of captivity! to provide them with a luxurious table i have to call in assistants. two or three of the juvenile unemployed of my neighbourhood, bribed by slices of bread and jam or of melon, search morning and evening on the neighbouring lawns, where they fill their game-bags, little cases made from sections of reeds, with living grasshoppers and crickets. on my own part, i make a daily tour of the paddock, net in hand, with the object of obtaining some choice dish for my guests. these particular captures are destined to show me just how far the vigour and audacity of the mantis will lead it. they include the large grey cricket (_pachytylus cinerascens_, fab.), which is larger than the creature which devours it; the white-faced decticus, armed with powerful mandibles from which it is wise to guard one's fingers; the grotesque truxalis, wearing a pyramidal mitre on its head; and the ephippigera of the vineyards, which clashes its cymbals and carries a sabre at the end of its barrel-shaped abdomen. to this assortment of disobliging creatures let us add two horrors: the silky epeirus, whose disc-shaped scalloped abdomen is as big as a shilling, and the crowned epeirus, which is horribly hairy and corpulent. i cannot doubt that the mantis attacks such adversaries in a state of nature when i see it, under my wire-gauze covers, boldly give battle to whatever is placed before it. lying in wait among the bushes it must profit by the prizes bestowed upon it by hazard, as in its cage it profits by the wealth of diet due to my generosity. the hunting of such big game as i offer, which is full of danger, must form part of the creature's usual life, though it may be only an occasional pastime, perhaps to the great regret of the mantis. crickets of all kinds, butterflies, bees, large flies of many species, and other insects of moderate size: such is the prey that we habitually find in the embrace of the murderous arms of the mantis. but in my cages i have never known the audacious huntress to recoil before any other insect. grey cricket, decticus, epeirus or truxalis, sooner or later all are harpooned, held motionless between the saw-edges of the arms, and deliciously crunched at leisure. the process deserves a detailed description. at the sight of a great cricket, which thoughtlessly approaches along the wire-work of the cover, the mantis, shaken by a convulsive start, suddenly assumes a most terrifying posture. an electric shock would not produce a more immediate result. the transition is so sudden, the mimicry so threatening, that the unaccustomed observer will draw back his hand, as though at some unknown danger. seasoned as i am, i myself must confess to being startled on occasions when my thoughts have been elsewhere. the creature spreads out like a fan actuated by a spring, or a fantastic jack-in-the-box. the wing-covers open, and are thrust obliquely aside; the wings spring to their full width, standing up like parallel screens of transparent gauze, forming a pyramidal prominence which dominates the back; the end of the abdomen curls upwards crosier-wise, then falls and unbends itself with a sort of swishing noise, a _pouf! pouf!_ like the sound emitted by the feathers of a strutting turkey-cock. one is reminded of the puffing of a startled adder. proudly straddling on its four hind-claws, the insect holds its long body almost vertical. the murderous fore-limbs, at first folded and pressed against one another on the thorax, open to their full extent, forming a cross with the body, and exhibiting the axillæ ornamented with rows of pearls, and a black spot with a central point of white. these two eyes, faintly recalling those of the peacock's tail, and the fine ebony embossments, are part of the blazonry of conflict, concealed upon ordinary occasions. their jewels are only assumed when they make themselves terrible and superb for battle. motionless in its weird position, the mantis surveys the acridian, its gaze fixed upon it, its head turning gently as on a pivot as the other changes place. the object of this mimicry seems evident; the mantis wishes to terrorise its powerful prey, to paralyse it with fright; for if not demoralised by fear the quarry might prove too dangerous. does it really terrify its prey? under the shining head of the decticus, behind the long face of the cricket, who is to say what is passing? no sign of emotion can reveal itself upon these immovable masks. yet it seems certain that the threatened creature is aware of its danger. it sees, springing up before it, a terrible spectral form with talons outstretched, ready to fall upon it; it feels itself face to face with death, and fails to flee while yet there is time. the creature that excels in leaping, and might so easily escape from the threatening claws, the wonderful jumper with the prodigious thighs, remains crouching stupidly in its place, or even approaches the enemy with deliberate steps.[2] it is said that young birds, paralysed with terror by the gaping mouth of a serpent, or fascinated by its gaze, will allow themselves to be snatched from the nest, incapable of movement. the cricket will often behave in almost the same way. once within reach of the enchantress, the grappling-hooks are thrown, the fangs strike, the double saws close together and hold the victim in a vice. vainly the captive struggles; his mandibles chew the air, his desperate kicks meet with no resistance. he has met with his fate. the mantis refolds her wings, the standard of battle; she resumes her normal pose, and the meal commences. in attacking the truxalis and the ephippigera, less dangerous game than the grey cricket and the decticus, the spectral pose is less imposing and of shorter duration. it is often enough to throw forward the talons; this is so in the case of the epeirus, which is seized by the middle of the body, without a thought of its venomous claws. with the smaller crickets, which are the customary diet in my cages as at liberty, the mantis rarely employs her means of intimidation; she merely seizes the heedless passer-by as she lies in wait. when the insect to be captured may present some serious resistance, the mantis is thus equipped with a pose which terrifies or perplexes, fascinates or absorbs the prey, while it enables her talons to strike with greater certainty. her gins close on a demoralised victim, incapable of or unready for defence. she freezes the quarry with fear or amazement by suddenly assuming the attitude of a spectre. the wings play an important part in this fantastic pose. they are very wide, green on the outer edge, but colourless and transparent elsewhere. numerous nervures, spreading out fan-wise, cross them in the direction of their length. others, transversal but finer, cut the first at right angles, forming with them a multitude of meshes. in the spectral attitude the wings are outspread and erected in two parallel planes which are almost in contact, like the wings of butterflies in repose. between the two the end of the abdomen rapidly curls and uncurls. from the rubbing of the belly against the network of nervures proceeds the species of puffing sound which i have compared to the hissing of an adder in a posture of defence. to imitate this curious sound it is enough rapidly to stroke the upper face of an outstretched wing with the tip of the finger-nail. in a moment of hunger, after a fast of some days, the large grey cricket, which is as large as the mantis or larger, will be entirely consumed with the exception of the wings, which are too dry. two hours are sufficient for the completion of this enormous meal. such an orgy is rare. i have witnessed it two or three times, always asking myself where the gluttonous creature found room for so much food, and how it contrived to reverse in its own favour the axiom that the content is less than that which contains it. i can only admire the privileges of a stomach in which matter is digested immediately upon entrance, dissolved and made away with. the usual diet of the mantis under my wire cages consists of crickets of different species and varying greatly in size. it is interesting to watch the mantis nibbling at its cricket, which it holds in the vice formed by its murderous fore-limbs. in spite of the fine-pointed muzzle, which hardly seems made for such ferocity, the entire insect disappears excepting the wings, of which only the base, which is slightly fleshy, is consumed. legs, claws, horny integuments, all else is eaten. sometimes the great hinder thigh is seized by the knuckle, carried to the mouth, tasted, and crunched with a little air of satisfaction. the swollen thigh of the cricket might well be a choice "cut" for the mantis, as a leg of lamb is for us! the attack on the victim begins at the back of the neck or base of the head. while one of the murderous talons holds the quarry gripped by the middle of the body, the other presses the head downwards, so that the articulation between the back and the neck is stretched and opens slightly. the snout of the mantis gnaws and burrows into this undefended spot with a certain persistence, and a large wound is opened in the neck. at the lesion of the cephalic ganglions the struggles of the cricket grow less, and the victim becomes a motionless corpse. thence, unrestricted in its movements, this beast of prey chooses its mouthfuls at leisure. chapter vi the mantis.--courtship the little we have seen of the customs of the mantis does not square very well with the popular name for the insect. from the term _prègo-diéu_ we should expect a peaceful placid creature, devoutly self-absorbed; and we find a cannibal, a ferocious spectre, biting open the heads of its captives after demoralising them with terror. but we have yet to learn the worst. the customs of the mantis in connection with its own kin are more atrocious even than those of the spiders, who bear an ill repute in this respect. to reduce the number of cages on my big laboratory table, to give myself a little more room, while still maintaining a respectable menagerie, i installed several females under one cover. there was sufficient space in the common lodging and room for the captives to move about, though for that matter they are not fond of movement, being heavy in the abdomen. crouching motionless against the wire work of the cover, they will digest their food or await a passing victim. they lived, in short, just as they lived on their native bushes. communal life has its dangers. when the hay is low in the manger donkeys grow quarrelsome, although usually so pacific. my guests might well, in a season of dearth, have lost their tempers and begun to fight one another; but i was careful to keep the cages well provided with crickets, which were renewed twice a day. if civil war broke out famine could not be urged in excuse. at the outset matters did not go badly. the company lived in peace, each mantis pouncing upon and eating whatever came her way, without interfering with her neighbours. but this period of concord was of brief duration. the bellies of the insects grew fuller: the eggs ripened in their ovaries: the time of courtship and the laying season was approaching. then a kind of jealous rage seized the females, although no male was present to arouse such feminine rivalry. the swelling of the ovaries perverted my flock, and infected them with an insane desire to devour one another. there were threats, horrid encounters, and cannibal feasts. once more the spectral pose was seen, the hissing of the wings, and the terrible gesture of the talons outstretched and raised above the head. the females could not have looked more terrible before a grey cricket or a decticus. without any motives that i could see, two neighbours suddenly arose in the attitude of conflict. they turned their heads to the right and the left, provoking one another, insulting one another. the _pouf! pouf!_ of the wings rubbed by the abdomen sounded the charge. although the duel was to terminate at the first scratch, without any more serious consequence, the murderous talons, at first folded, open like the leaves of a book, and are extended laterally to protect the long waist and abdomen. the pose is superb, but less terrific than that assumed when the fight is to be to the death. then one of the grappling-hooks with a sudden spring flies out and strikes the rival; with the same suddenness it flies back and assumes a position of guard. the adversary replies with a riposte. the fencing reminds one not a little of two cats boxing one another's ears. at the first sign of blood on the soft abdomen, or even at the slightest wound, one admits herself to be conquered and retires. the other refurls her battle standard and goes elsewhere to meditate the capture of a cricket, apparently calm, but in reality ready to recommence the quarrel. very often the matter turns out more tragically. in duels to the death the pose of attack is assumed in all its beauty. the murderous talons unfold and rise in the air. woe to the vanquished! for the victor seizes her in her vice-like grip and at once commences to eat her; beginning, needless to say, at the back of the neck. the odious meal proceeds as calmly as if it were merely a matter of munching a grasshopper; and the survivor enjoys her sister quite as much as lawful game. the spectators do not protest, being only too willing to do the like on the first occasion. ferocious creatures! it is said that even wolves do not eat one another. the mantis is not so scrupulous; she will eat her fellows when her favourite quarry, the cricket, is attainable and abundant. these observations reach a yet more revolting extreme. let us inquire into the habits of the insect at breeding time, and to avoid the confusion of a crowd let us isolate the couples under different covers. thus each pair will have their own dwelling, where nothing can trouble their honeymoon. we will not forget to provide them with abundant food; there shall not be the excuse of hunger for what is to follow. we are near the end of august. the male mantis, a slender and elegant lover, judges the time to be propitious. he makes eyes at his powerful companion; he turns his head towards her; he bows his neck and raises his thorax. his little pointed face almost seems to wear an expression. for a long time he stands thus motionless, in contemplation of the desired one. the latter, as though indifferent, does not stir. yet the lover has seized upon a sign of consent: a sign of which i do not know the secret. he approaches: suddenly he erects his wings, which are shaken with a convulsive tremor. this is his declaration. he throws himself timidly on the back of his corpulent companion; he clings to her desperately, and steadies himself. the prelude to the embrace is generally lengthy, and the embrace will sometimes last for five or six hours. nothing worthy of notice occurs during this time. finally the two separate, but they are soon to be made one flesh in a much more intimate fashion. if the poor lover is loved by his mistress as the giver of fertility, she also loves him as the choicest of game. during the day, or at latest on the morrow, he is seized by his companion, who first gnaws through the back of his neck, according to use and wont, and then methodically devours him, mouthful by mouthful, leaving only the wings. here we have no case of jealousy, but simply a depraved taste. i had the curiosity to wonder how a second male would be received by a newly fecundated female. the result of my inquiry was scandalous. the mantis in only too many cases is never sated with embraces and conjugal feasts. after a rest, of variable duration, whether the eggs have been laid or not, a second male is welcomed and devoured like the first. a third succeeds him, does his duty, and affords yet another meal. a fourth suffers a like fate. in the course of two weeks i have seen the same mantis treat seven husbands in this fashion. she admitted all to her embraces, and all paid for the nuptial ecstasy with their lives. there are exceptions, but such orgies are frequent. on very hot days, when the atmospheric tension is high, they are almost the general rule. at such times the mantis is all nerves. under covers which contain large households the females devour one another more frequently than ever; under the covers which contain isolated couples the males are devoured more eagerly than usual when their office has been fulfilled. i might urge, in mitigation of these conjugal atrocities, that the mantis does not commit them when at liberty. the male, his function once fulfilled, surely has time to wander off, to escape far away, to flee the terrible spouse, for in my cages he is given a respite, often of a whole day. what really happens by the roadside and in the thickets i do not know; chance, a poor schoolmistress, has never instructed me concerning the love-affairs of the mantis when at liberty. i am obliged to watch events in my laboratory, where the captives, enjoying plenty of sunshine, well nourished, and comfortably lodged, do not seem in any way to suffer from nostalgia. they should behave there as they behave under normal conditions. alas! the facts force me to reject the statement that the males have time to escape; for i once surprised a male, apparently in the performance of his vital functions, holding the female tightly embraced--but he had no head, no neck, scarcely any thorax! the female, her head turned over her shoulder, was peacefully browsing on the remains of her lover! and the masculine remnant, firmly anchored, continued its duty! love, it is said, is stronger than death! taken literally, never has an aphorism received a more striking confirmation. here was a creature decapitated, amputated as far as the middle of the thorax; a corpse which still struggled to give life. it would not relax its hold until the abdomen itself, the seat of the organs of procreation, was attacked. the custom of eating the lover after the consummation of the nuptials, of making a meal of the exhausted pigmy, who is henceforth good for nothing, is not so difficult to understand, since insects can hardly be accused of sentimentality; but to devour him during the act surpasses anything that the most morbid mind could imagine. i have seen the thing with my own eyes, and i have not yet recovered from my surprise. could this unfortunate creature have fled and saved himself, being thus attacked in the performance of his functions? no. we must conclude that the loves of the mantis are fully as tragic, perhaps even more so, than those of the spider. i do not deny that the limited area of the cage may favour the massacre of the males; but the cause of such butchering must be sought elsewhere. it is perhaps a reminiscence of the carboniferous period when the insect world gradually took shape through prodigious procreation. the orthoptera, of which the mantes form a branch, are the first-born of the insect world. uncouth, incomplete in their transformation, they wandered amidst the arborescent foliage, already flourishing when none of the insects sprung of more complex forms of metamorphosis were as yet in existence: neither butterflies, beetles, flies, nor bees. manners were not gentle in those epochs, which were full of the lust to destroy in order to produce; and the mantis, a feeble memory of those ancient ghosts, might well preserve the customs of an earlier age. the utilisation of the males as food is a custom in the case of other members of the mantis family. it is, i must admit, a general habit. the little grey mantis, so small and looking so harmless in her cage, which never seeks to harm her neighbours in spite of her crowded quarters, falls upon her male and devours him as ferociously as the praying mantis. i have worn myself out in trying to procure the indispensable complements to my female specimens. no sooner is my capture, strongly winged, vigorous and alert, introduced into the cage than he is seized, more often than not, by one of the females who no longer have need of his assistance and devoured. once the ovaries are satisfied the two species of mantis conceive an antipathy for the male; or rather they regard him merely as a particularly tasty species of game. chapter vii the mantis.--the nest let us take a more pleasant aspect of the insect whose loves are so tragic. its nest is a marvel. in scientific language it is known as the _ootek_, or the "egg-box." i shall not make use of this barbarous expression. as one does not speak of the "egg-box" of the titmouse, meaning "the nest of the titmouse," why should i invoke the box in speaking of the mantis? it may look more scientific; but that does not interest me. the nest of the praying mantis may be found almost everywhere in places exposed to the sun: on stones, wood, vine stocks, the twigs of bushes, stems of dried grass, and even on products of human industry, such as fragments of brick, rags of heavy cloth, and pieces of old boots. any support will suffice, so long as it offers inequalities to which the base of the nest may adhere, and so provide a solid foundation. the usual dimensions of the nest are one and a half inches long by three-quarters of an inch wide, or a trifle larger. the colour is a pale tan, like that of a grain of wheat. brought in contact with a flame the nest burns readily, and emits an odour like that of burning silk. the material of the nest is in fact a substance similar to silk, but instead of being drawn into a thread it is allowed to harden while a mass of spongy foam. if the nest is fixed on a branch the base creeps round it, envelops the neighbouring twigs, and assumes a variable shape according to the accidents of support; if it is fixed on a flat surface the under side, which is always moulded by the support, is itself flat. the nest then takes the form of a demi-ellipsoid, or, in other words, half an egg cut longitudinally; more or less obtuse at one end, but pointed at the other, and sometimes ending in a short curved tail. in all cases the upper face is convex and regular. in it we can distinguish three well-marked and longitudinal zones. the middle zone, which is narrower than the others, is composed of thin plates arranged in couples, and overlapping like the tiles of a roof. the edges of these plates are free, leaving two parallel series of fissures by which the young can issue when the eggs are hatched. in a nest recently abandoned this zone is covered with fine cast-off skins which shiver at the least breath, and soon disappear when exposed to the open air. i will call this zone the zone of issue, as it is only along this bell that the young can escape, being set free by those that have preceded them. in all other directions the cradle of this numerous family presents an unbroken wall. the two lateral zones, which occupy the greater part of the demi-ellipsoid, have a perfect continuity of surface. the little mantes, which are very feeble when first hatched, could not possibly make their way through the tenacious substance of the walls. on the interior of these walls are a number of fine transverse furrows, signs of the various layers in which the mass of eggs is disposed. let us cut the nest in half transversely. we shall then see that the mass of eggs constitutes an elongated core, of very firm consistency, surrounded as to the bottom and sides by a thick porous rind, like solidified foam. above the eggs are the curved plates, which are set very closely and have little freedom; their edges constituting the zone of issue, where they form a double series of small overlapping scales. the eggs are set in a yellowish medium of horny appearance. they are arranged in layers, in lines forming arcs of a circle, with the cephalic extremities converging towards the zone of issue. this orientation tells us of the method of delivery. the newly-born larvæ will slip into the interval between two adjacent flaps or leaves, which form a prolongation of the core; they will then find a narrow passage, none too easy to effect, but sufficient, having regard to the curious provision which we shall deal with directly; they will then reach the zone of issue. there, under the overlapping scales, two passages of exit open for each layer of eggs. half the larvæ will issue by the right-hand passage, half by that on the left hand. this process is repeated for each layer, from end to end of the nest. let us sum up those structural details, which are not easily grasped unless one has the nest before one. lying along the axis of the nest, and in shape like a date-stone, is the mass of eggs, grouped in layers. a protective rind, a kind of solidified foam, envelops this core, except at the top, along the central line, where the porous rind is replaced by thin overlapping leaves. the free edges of these leaves form the exterior of the zone of issue; they overlap one another, forming two series of scales, leaving two exits, in the shape of narrow crevices, for each layer of eggs. [illustration: 1. nest of the praying mantis. 2. transverse section of the same. 3, 3a. nest of empusa pauperata. 4. transverse section of the same. 5. vertical selection of the same. 6. nest of the grey mantis. 7. scheffer's sisyphus (see chap. xii.) 8. pellet of the sisyphus. 9. pellet of the sisyphus with dejecta of the larva forced through the walls.] to be present at the construction of the nest--to learn how the mantis contrives to build so complex a structure--such was the main point of my researches. i succeeded, not without difficulty, as the eggs are laid without warning and nearly always at night. after a great deal of futile endeavour, chance at last favoured me. on the 5th of september one of my guests, fecundated on the 29th of august, began to make her preparations under my eyes, at four o'clock in the afternoon. one remark before proceeding: all the nests i have obtained in the laboratory--and i have obtained a good number--have without exception been built upon the wire gauze of the covers. i have been careful to provide the insects with roughened stones and tufts of thyme, both being very commonly used as foundations in the open fields. the captives have always preferred the network of wire gauze, which affords a perfectly firm foundation, as the soft material of the nest becomes incrusted upon the meshes as it hardens. in natural conditions the nests are never in any way sheltered; they support the inclemencies of winter, resist rain, wind, frost, and snow, without becoming detached. it is true that the female always selects an uneven support on which the foundations of the nest can be shaped, thus obtaining a firm hold. the site chosen is always the best obtainable within reach, and the wire gauze is constantly adopted as the best foundation obtainable in the cages. the only mantis that i was able to observe at the moment of laying her eggs worked upside-down, clinging to the wire near the top of the cover. my presence, my magnifying-glass, my investigations did not disturb her in the least, so absorbed was she in her labours. i was able to lift up the dome of wire gauze, tilt it, reverse it, turn it over and reverse it again, without causing the insect to delay her task for a moment. i was able, with my tweezers, to raise the long wings in order to observe rather more closely what was taking place beneath them; the mantis took absolutely no notice of me. so far all was well; the female did not move, and lent herself impassively to all the indiscretions of the observer. nevertheless, matters did not proceed as i had wished, so rapid was the operation and so difficult observation. the end of the abdomen is constantly immersed in a blob of foam, which does not allow one to grasp the details of the process very clearly. this foam is of a greyish white, slightly viscous, and almost like soapsuds. at the moment of its appearance it adheres slightly to the end of a straw plunged into it. two minutes later it is solidified and no longer adheres to the straw. in a short time its consistency is that of the substance of an old nest. [illustration: 1. the mantis devouring the male in the act of mating. 2. the mantis completing her nest. 3. golden scarabæi cutting up a lob-worm.] the foamy mass consists chiefly of air imprisoned in minute bubbles. this air, which gives the nest a volume very much greater than that of the abdomen of the mantis, evidently does not issue from the insect although the foam appears at the orifice of the genital organs; it is borrowed from the atmosphere. the mantis builds more especially with air, which is eminently adapted to protect the nest against changes of temperature. she emits a glutinous substance like the liquid secretion of silk-worms, and with this composition, mixed instantaneously with the outer air, she produces the foam of which the nest is constructed. she whips the secretion as we whip white of egg, in order to make it rise and stiffen. the extremity of the abdomen opens in a long cleft, forming two lateral ladles which open and shut with a rapid, incessant movement, beating the viscous liquid and converting it into foam as it is secreted. beside the two oscillating ladles we see the internal organs rising and falling, protruding and retreating like a piston-rod, but it is impossible to observe the precise nature of their action, bathed as they are in the opaque blob of foam. the end of the abdomen, continually palpitating, rapidly closing and opening its valves, oscillates right and left like a pendulum. from each of these oscillations results a layer of eggs in the interior, and a transversal crevice on the exterior. as it advances in the arc described, suddenly, and at frequent intervals, it plunges deeper into the foam, as though burying something at the bottom of the frothy mass. each time it does so an egg is doubtless deposited; but the operation is so rapid, and takes place under conditions so unfavourable for observation, that i have never once been enabled to see the oviduct at work. i can only judge of the advent of the eggs by the movements of the end of the abdomen, which is immersed more deeply with a sudden plunging movement. at the same time the viscous composition is emitted in intermittent waves, and is beaten into a foam by the terminal valves. the foam thus obtained spreads itself over the sides and at the base of the layer of eggs, and projects through the meshes of the wire gauze as a result of the pressure of the abdomen. thus the spongy envelope is progressively created as the ovaries are gradually emptied. i imagine, although i cannot speak as the result of direct observation, that for the central core, where the eggs are surrounded by a material more homogeneous than that of the outer shell, the mantis must employ her secretion as it emerges, without beating it into a foam. the layer of eggs once deposited, the two valves would produce the foam required to envelop the eggs. it is extremely difficult, however, to guess what occurs beneath the veil of foam-like secretion. in a recent nest the zone of issue is surrounded by a layer of finely porous matter, of a pure matt, almost chalky white, which contrasts distinctly with the remainder of the nest, which is of a dirty white. it resembles the icing composition made by confectioners with whipped white of egg, sugar, and starch, for the ornamentation of cakes. this snowy border is easily crumbled and easily detached. when it disappears the zone of issue is clearly defined, with its double series of leaves with free edges. exposure to the weather, wind, and rain result in its disappearance, fragment by fragment, so that old nests preserve no trace of it. at first sight one is tempted to regard this snowy substance as of a different material to the rest of the nest. but does the mantis really employ two secretions? no. anatomy, in the first place, assures us of the unity of the materials of the nest. the organ which secretes the substance of the nest consists of cylindrical tubes, having a curious tangled appearance, which are arranged in two groups of twenty each. they are all filled with a colourless, viscous fluid, which is precisely similar in appearance in all parts of the organ. there is no indication of any organ or secretion which could produce a chalky coloration. moreover, the method by which the snowy band is formed rejects the idea of a different material. we see the two caudal appendices of the mantis sweeping the surface of the foamy mass, and skimming, so to speak, the cream of the cream, gathering it together, and retaining it along the hump of the nest in such a way as to form a band like a ribbon of icing. what remains after this scouring process, or what oozes from the band before it has set, spreads over the sides of the nest in a thin layer of bubbles so fine that they cannot be distinguished without the aid of a lens. we often see a torrent of muddy water, full of clay in suspension, covered with great streaks and masses of foam. on this fundamental foam, so to call it, which is soiled with earthy matters, we see here and there masses of a beautiful white foam, in which the bubbles are much smaller. a process of selection results from variations in density, and here and there we see foam white as snow resting on the dirty foam from which it is produced. something of the kind occurs when the mantis builds her nest. the two appendices whip the viscous secretion of the glands into foam. the lightest portion, whose bubbles are of the greatest tenuity, which is white on account of its finer porosity, rises to the surface, where the caudal filaments sweep it up and gather it into the snowy ribbon which runs along the summit of the nest. so far, with a little patience, observation is possible and yields a satisfactory result. it becomes impossible in the matter of the complex central zone, where the exits for the larvæ are contrived through the double series of overlapping leaves. the little i have been able to learn amounts to this: the end of the abdomen, deeply cleft in a horizontal direction, forms a kind of fork, of which the upper extremity remains almost motionless, while the lower continuously oscillates, producing the foam and depositing the eggs. the creation of the central zone is certainly the work of the upper extremity. it is always to be seen in the continuation of this central zone, in the midst of the fine white foam gathered up by the caudal filaments. the latter delimit the zone, one working on either side, feeling the edges of the belt, and apparently testing it and judging its progress. these two filaments are like two long fingers of exquisite sensitiveness, which direct the difficult operation. but how are the two series of scales obtained, and the fissures, the gates of exit which they shelter? i do not know; i cannot even imagine. i leave the end of the problem to others. what a wonderful mechanism is this, that has the power to emit and to form, so quickly and methodically, the horny medium of the central kernel, the foam which forms the protective walls, the white creamy foam of the ribbon which runs along the central zone, the eggs, and the fecundating liquid, while at the same time it constructs the overlapping leaves, the imbricated scales, and the alternating series of open fissures! we are lost in the face of such a wonder. yet how easily the work is performed! clinging to the wire gauze, forming, so to speak, the axis of her nest, the mantis barely moves. she bestows not a glance on the marvel which is growing behind her; her limbs are used only for support; they take no part in the building of the nest. the nest is built, if we may say so, automatically. it is not the result of industry and the cunning of instinct; it is a purely mechanical task, which is conditioned by the implements, by the organisation of the insect. the nest, complex though it is in structure, results solely from the functioning of the organs, as in our human industries a host of objects are mechanically fashioned whose perfection puts the dexterity of the fingers to shame. from another point of view the nest of the mantis is even more remarkable. it forms an excellent application of one of the most valuable lessons of physical science in the matter of the conservation of heat. the mantis has outstripped humanity in her knowledge of thermic nonconductors or insulators. the famous physicist rumford was responsible for a very pretty experiment designed to demonstrate the low conductivity of air where heat other than radiant heat is concerned. the famous scientist surrounded a frozen cheese by a mass of foam consisting of well-beaten eggs. the whole was exposed to the heat of an oven. in a few minutes a light omelette was obtained, piping hot, but the cheese in the centre was as cold as at the outset. the air imprisoned in the bubbles of the surrounding froth accounts for the phenomenon. extremely refractory to heat, it had absorbed the heat of the oven and had prevented it from reaching the frozen substance in the centre of the omelette. now, what does the mantis do? precisely what rumford did; she whips her albumen to obtain a soufflée, a froth composed of myriads of tiny air-bubbles, which will protect the germs of life contained in the central core. it is true that her aim is reversed; the coagulated foam of the nest is a safeguard against cold, not against heat, but what will afford protection from the one will afford protection from the other; so that rumford, had he wished, might equally well have maintained a hot body at a high temperature in a refrigerator. rumford understood the athermic properties of a blanket of air-cells, thanks to the accumulated knowledge of his predecessors and his own studies and experiments. how is it that the mantis, for who knows how many ages, has been able to outstrip our physicists in this problem in calorics? how did she learn to surround her eggs with this mass of solidifying froth, so that it was able, although fixed to a bough or a stone without other shelter, to brave with impunity the rigours of winter? the other mantes found in my neighbourhood, which are the only species of which i can speak with full knowledge, employ or omit the envelope of solidifying froth accordingly as the eggs are or are not intended to survive the winter. the little grey mantis (_ameles decolor_), which differs so widely from the praying mantis in that the wings of the female are almost completely absent, builds a nest hardly as large as a cherry-stone, and covers it skilfully with a porous rind. why this cellular envelope? because the nest of the _ameles_, like that of the praying mantis, has to endure through the winter, fixed to a stone or a twig, and is thus exposed to the full severity of the dangerous season. the _empusa pauperata_, on the other hand (one of the strangest of european insects), builds a nest as small as that of the _ameles_, although the insect itself is as large as the praying mantis. this nest is quite a small structure, composed of a small number of cells, arranged side by side in three or four series, sloping together at the neck. here there is a complete absence of the porous envelope, although the nest is exposed to the weather, like the previous examples, affixed to some twig or fragment of rock. the lack of the insulating rind is a sign of different climatic conditions. the eggs of the _empusa_ hatch shortly after they are laid, in warm and sunny weather. not being exposed to the asperities of the winter, they need no protection other than the thin egg-cases themselves. are these nice and reasonable precautions, which rival the experiment of rumford, a fortuitous result?--one of the innumerable combinations which fall from the urn of chance? if so, let us not recoil before the absurd: let us allow that the blindness of chance is gifted with marvellous foresight. the praying mantis commences her nest at the blunter extremity, and completes it at the pointed tail. the latter is often prolonged in a sort of promontory, in which the insect expends the last drop of glutinous liquid as she stretches herself after her task. a sitting of two hours, more or less, without interruption, is required for the total accomplishment of the work. directly the period of labour is over, the mother withdraws, indifferent henceforth to her completed task. i have watched her, half expecting to see her return, to discover some tenderness for the cradle of her family. but no: not a trace of maternal pleasure. the work is done, and concerns her no longer. crickets approach; one of them even squats upon the nest. the mantis takes no notice of them. they are peaceful intruders, to be sure; but even were they dangerous, did they threaten to rifle the nest, would she attack them and drive them away? her impassive demeanour convinces me that she would not. what is the nest to her? she is no longer conscious of it. i have spoken of the many embraces to which the praying mantis submits, and of the tragic end of the male, who is almost invariably devoured as though a lawful prey. in the space of a fortnight i have known the same female to adventure upon matrimony no less than seven times. each time the readily consoled widow devoured her mate. such habits point to frequent laying; and we find the appearance confirmed, though not as a general rule. some of my females gave me one nest only; others two, the second as capacious as the first. the most fruitful of all produced three; of these the two first were of normal dimensions, while the third was about half the usual size. from this we can reckon the productivity of the insect's ovaries. from the transverse fissures of the median zone of the nest it is easy to estimate the layers of eggs; but these layers contain more or fewer eggs according to their position in the middle of the nest or near the ends. the numbers contained by the widest and narrowest layers will give us an approximate average. i find that a nest of fair size contains about four hundred eggs. thus the maker of the three nests, of which the last was half as large as the others, produced no less than a thousand eggs; eight hundred were deposited in the larger nests and two or three hundred in the smaller. truly a fine family, but a thought ungainly, were it not that only a few of its members can survive. of a fair size, of curious structure, and well in evidence on its twig or stone, the nest of the praying mantis could hardly escape the attention of the provençal peasant. it is well known in the country districts, where it goes by the name of _tigno_; it even enjoys a certain celebrity. but no one seems to be aware of its origin. it is always a surprise to my rustic neighbours when they learn that the well-known _tigno_ is the nest of the common mantis, the _prègo-diéu_. this ignorance may well proceed from the nocturnal habits of the mantis. no one has caught the insect at work upon her nest in the silence of the night. the link between the artificer and the work is missing, although both are well known to the villager. no matter: the singular object exists; it catches the eye, it attracts attention. it must therefore be good for something; it must possess virtue of some kind. so in all ages have the simple reasoned, in the childlike hope of finding in the unfamiliar an alleviation of their sorrows. by general agreement the rural pharmacopoeia of provence pronounces the _tigno_ to be the best of remedies against chilblains. the method of employment is of the simplest. the nest is cut in two, squeezed and the affected part is rubbed with the cut surface as the juices flow from it. this specific, i am told, is sovereign. all sufferers from blue and swollen fingers should without fail, according to traditional usage, have recourse to the _tigno_. is it really efficacious? despite the general belief, i venture to doubt it, after fruitless experiments on my own fingers and those of other members of my household during the winter of 1895, when the severe and persistent cold produced an abundant crop of chilblains. none of us, treated with the celebrated unguent, observed the swelling to diminish; none of us found that the pain and discomfort was in the least assuaged by the sticky varnish formed by the juices of the crushed _tigno_. it is not easy to believe that others are more successful, but the popular renown of the specific survives in spite of all, probably thanks to a simple accident of identity between the name of the remedy and that of the infirmity: the provençal for "chilblain" is _tigno_. from the moment when the chilblain and the nest of the mantis were known by the same name were not the virtues of the latter obvious? so are reputations created. in my own village, and doubtless to some extent throughout the midi, the _tigno_--the nest of the mantis, not the chilblain--is also reputed as a marvellous cure for toothache. it is enough to carry it upon the person to be free of that lamentable affection. women wise in such matters gather them beneath a propitious moon, and preserve them piously in some corner of the clothes-press or wardrobe. they sew them in the lining of the pocket, lest they should be pulled out with the handkerchief and lost; they will grant the loan of them to a neighbour tormented by some refractory molar. "lend me thy _tigno_: i am suffering martyrdom!" begs the owner of a swollen face.--"don't on any account lose it!" says the lender: "i haven't another, and we aren't at the right time of moon!" we will not laugh at the credulous victim; many a remedy triumphantly puffed on the latter pages of the newspapers and magazines is no more effectual. moreover, this rural simplicity is surpassed by certain old books which form the tomb of the science of a past age. an english naturalist of the sixteenth century, the well-known physician, thomas moffat, informs us that children lost in the country would inquire their way of the mantis. the insect consulted would extend a limb, indicating the direction to be taken, and, says the author, scarcely ever was the insect mistaken. this pretty story is told in latin, with an adorable simplicity. chapter viii the golden gardener.--its nutriment in writing the first lines of this chapter i am reminded of the slaughter-pens of chicago; of those horrible meat factories which in the course of the year cut up one million and eighty thousand bullocks and seventeen hundred thousand swine, which enter a train of machinery alive and issue transformed into cans of preserved meat, sausages, lard, and rolled hams. i am reminded of these establishments because the beetle i am about to speak of will show us a compatible celerity of butchery. in a spacious, glazed insectorium i have twenty-five carabi aurati. at present they are motionless, lying beneath a piece of board which i gave them for shelter. their bellies cooled by the sand, their backs warmed by the board, which is visited by the sun, they slumber and digest their food. by good luck i chance upon a procession of pine-caterpillars, in process of descending from their tree in search of a spot suitable for burial, the prelude to the phase of the subterranean chrysalis. here is an excellent flock for the slaughter-house of the carabi. i capture them and place them in the insectorium. the procession is quickly re-formed; the caterpillars, to the number of perhaps a hundred and fifty, move forward in an undulating line. they pass near the piece of board, one following the other like the pigs at chicago. the moment is propitious. i cry havoc! and let loose the dogs of war: that is to say, i remove the plank. the sleepers immediately awake, scenting the abundant prey. one of them runs forward; three, four, follow; the whole assembly is aroused; those who are buried emerge; the whole band of cut-throats falls upon the passing flock. it is a sight never to be forgotten. the mandibles of the beetles are at work in all directions; the procession is attacked in the van, in the rear, in the centre; the victims are wounded on the back or the belly at random. the furry skins are gaping with wounds; their contents escape in knots of entrails, bright green with their aliment, the needles of the pine-tree; the caterpillars writhe, struggling with loop-like movements, gripping the sand with their feet, dribbling and gnashing their mandibles. those as yet unwounded are digging desperately in the attempt to take refuge underground. not one succeeds. they are scarcely half buried before some beetle runs to them and destroys them by an eviscerating wound. if this massacre did not occur in a dumb world we should hear all the horrible tumult of the slaughter-houses of chicago. but only the ear of the mind can hear the shrieks and lamentations of the eviscerated victims. for myself, i possess this ear, and am full of remorse for having provoked such sufferings. now the beetles are rummaging in all directions through the heap of dead and dying, each tugging and tearing at a morsel which he carries off to swallow in peace, away from the inquisitive eyes of his fellows. this mouthful disposed of, another is hastily cut from the body of some victim, and the process is repeated so long as there are bodies left. in a few minutes the procession is reduced to a few shreds of still palpitating flesh. there were a hundred and fifty caterpillars; the butchers were twenty-five. this amounts to six victims dispatched by each beetle. if the insect had nothing to do but to kill, like the knackers in the meat factories, and if the staff numbered a hundred--a very modest figure as compared with the staff of a lard or bacon factory--then the total number of victims, in a day of ten hours, would be thirty-six thousand. no chicago "cannery" ever rivalled such a result. the speed of assassination is the more remarkable when we consider the difficulties of attack. the beetle has no endless chain to seize its victim by one leg, hoist it up, and swing it along to the butcher's knife; it has no sliding plank to hold the victim's head beneath the pole-axe of the knacker; it has to fall upon its prey, overpower it, and avoid its feet and its mandibles. moreover, the beetle eats its prey on the spot as it kills. what slaughter there would be if the insect confined itself to killing! what do we learn from the slaughter-houses of chicago and the fate of the beetle's victims? this: that the man of elevated morality is so far a very rare exception. under the skin of the civilised being there lurks almost always the ancestor, the savage contemporary of the cave-bear. true humanity does not yet exist; it is growing, little by little, created by the ferment of the centuries and the dictates of conscience; but it progresses towards the highest with heartbreaking slowness. it was only yesterday that slavery finally disappeared: the basis of the ancient social organism; only yesterday was it realised that man, even though black, is really man and deserves to be treated accordingly. what formerly was woman? she was what she is to-day in the east: a gentle animal without a soul. the question was long discussed by the learned. the great divine of the seventeenth century, bossuet himself, regarded woman as the diminutive of man. the proof was in the origin of eve: she was the superfluous bone, the thirteenth rib which adam possessed in the beginning. it has at last been admitted that woman possesses a soul like our own, but even superior in tenderness and devotion. she has been allowed to educate herself, which she has done at least as zealously as her coadjutor. but the law, that gloomy cavern which is still the lurking-place of so many barbarities, continues to regard her as an incapable and a minor. the law in turn will finally surrender to the truth. the abolition of slavery and the education of woman: these are two enormous strides upon the path of moral progress. our descendants will go farther. they will see, with a lucidity capable of piercing every obstacle, that war is the most hopeless of all absurdities. that our conquerors, victors of battles and destroyers of nations, are detestable scourges; that a clasp of the hand is preferable to a rifle-shot; that the happiest people is not that which possesses the largest battalions, but that which labours in peace and produces abundantly; and that the amenities of existence do not necessitate the existence of frontiers, beyond which we meet with all the annoyances of the custom-house, with its officials who search our pockets and rifle our luggage. our descendants will see this and many other marvels which to-day are extravagant dreams. to what ideal height will the process of evolution lead mankind? to no very magnificent height, it is to be feared. we are afflicted by an indelible taint, a kind of original sin, if we may call sin a state of things with which our will has nothing to do. we are made after a certain pattern and we can do nothing to change ourselves. we are marked with the mark of the beast, the taint of the belly, the inexhaustible source of bestiality. the intestine rules the world. in the midst of our most serious affairs there intrudes the imperious question of bread and butter. so long as there are stomachs to digest--and as yet we are unable to dispense with them--we must find the wherewithal to fill them, and the powerful will live by the sufferings of the weak. life is a void that only death can fill. hence the endless butchery by which man nourishes himself, no less than beetles and other creatures; hence the perpetual holocausts which make of this earth a knacker's yard, beside which the slaughter-houses of chicago are as nothing. but the feasters are legion, and the feast is not abundant in proportion. those that have not are envious of those that have; the hungry bare their teeth at the satisfied. then follows the battle for the right of possession. man raises armies; to defend his harvests, his granaries, and his cellars, he resorts to warfare. when shall we see the end of it? alas, and many times alas! as long as there are wolves in the world there must be watch-dogs to defend the flock. this train of thought has led us far away from our beetles. let us return to them. what was my motive in provoking the massacre of this peaceful procession of caterpillars who were on the point of self-burial when i gave them over to the butchers? was it to enjoy the spectacle of a frenzied massacre? by no means; i have always pitied the sufferings of animals, and the smallest life is worthy of respect. to overcome this pity there needed the exigencies of scientific research--exigencies which are often cruel. in this case the subject of research was the habits of the carabus auratus, the little vermin-killer of our gardens, who is therefore vulgarly known as the gardener beetle. how far is this title deserved? what game does the gardener beetle hunt? from what vermin does he free our beds and borders? his dealings with the procession of pine-caterpillars promise much. let us continue our inquiry. on various occasions about the end of april the gardens afford me the sight of such processions, sometimes longer, sometimes shorter. i capture them and place them in the vivarium. bloodshed commences the moment the banquet is served. the caterpillars are eviscerated; each by a single beetle, or by several simultaneously. in less than fifteen minutes the flock is completely exterminated. nothing remains but a few shapeless fragments, which are carried hither and thither, to be consumed at leisure under the shelter of the wooden board. one well-fed beetle decamps, his booty in his jaws, hoping to finish his feast in peace. he is met by companions who are attracted by the morsel hanging from the mandibles of the fugitive, and audaciously attempt to rob him. first two, then three, they all endeavour to deprive the legitimate owner of his prize. each seizes the fragment, tugs at it, commences to swallow it without further ado. there is no actual battle; no violent assaults, as in the case of dogs disputing a bone. their efforts are confined to the attempted theft. if the legitimate owner retains his hold they consume his booty in common, mandibles to mandibles, until the fragment is torn or bitten through, and each retires with his mouthful. as i found to my cost in bygone experiments, the pine-caterpillar wields a violently corrosive poison, which produces a painful rash upon the hands. it must therefore, one would think, form a somewhat highly seasoned diet. the beetles, however, delight in it. no matter how many flocks i provide them with, they are all consumed. but no one, that i know of, has ever found the golden gardener and its larva in the silken cocoons of the bombyx. i do not expect ever to make such a discovery. these cocoons are inhabited only in winter, when the gardener is indifferent to food, and lies torpid in the earth. in april, however, when the processions of larvæ are seeking a suitable site for burial and metamorphosis, the gardener should profit largely by its good fortune should it by any chance encounter them. the furry nature of the victim does not in the least incommode the beetle; but the hairiest of all our caterpillars, the hedgehog caterpillar, with its undulating mane, partly red and partly black, does seem to be too much for the beetle. day after day it wanders about the vivarium in company with the assassins. the latter apparently ignore its presence. from time to time one of them will halt, stroll round the hairy creature, examine it, and try to penetrate the tangled fleece. immediately repulsed by the long, dense palisade of hairs, he retires without inflicting a wound, and the caterpillar proceeds upon its way with undulating mane, in pride and security. but this state of things cannot last. in a hungry moment, emboldened moreover by the presence of his fellows, the cowardly creature decides upon a serious attack. there are four of them; they industriously attack the caterpillar, which finally succumbs, assaulted before and behind. it is eviscerated and swallowed as greedily as though it were a defenceless grub. according to the hazard of discovery, i provision my menagerie with various caterpillars, some smooth and others hairy. all are accepted with the utmost eagerness, so long as they are of average size as compared with the beetles themselves. if too small they are despised, as they would not yield a sufficient mouthful. if they are too large the beetle is unable to handle them. the caterpillars of the sphinx moth and the great peacock moth, for example, would fall an easy prey to the beetle were it not that at the first bite of the assailant the intended victim, by a contortion of its powerful flanks, sends the former flying. after several attacks, all of which end by the beetle being flung back to some considerable distance, the insect regretfully abandons his prey. i have kept two strong and lively caterpillars for a fortnight in the cage of my golden beetles, and nothing more serious occurred. the trick of the suddenly extended posterior was too much for the ferocious mandibles. the chief utility of the golden gardener lies in its extermination of all caterpillars that are not too powerful to attack. it has one limitation, however: it is not a climber. it hunts on the ground; never in the foliage overhead. i have never seen it exploring the twigs of even the smallest of bushes. when caged it pays no attention to the most enticing caterpillars if the latter take refuge in a tuft of thyme, at a few inches above the ground. this is a great pity. if only the beetle could climb how rapidly three or four would rid our cabbages of that grievous pest, the larva of the white cabbage butterfly! alas! the best have always some failing, some vice. to exterminate caterpillars: that is the true vocation of the golden gardener. it is annoying that it can give us but little or no assistance in ridding us of another plague of the kitchen-garden: the snail. the slime of the snail is offensive to the beetle; it is safe from the latter unless crippled, half crushed, or projecting from the shell. its relatives, however, do not share this dislike. the horny procrustes, the great scarabicus, entirely black and larger than the carabus, attacks the snail most valiantly, and empties its shell to the bottom, in spite of the desperate secretion of slime. it is a pity that the procrustes is not more frequently found in our gardens; it would be an excellent gardener's assistant. chapter ix the golden gardener--courtship it is generally recognized that the carabus auratus is an active exterminator of caterpillars; on this account in particular it deserves its title of gardener beetle; it is the vigilant policeman of our kitchen-gardens, our flower-beds and herbaceous borders. if my inquiries add nothing to its established reputation in this respect, they will nevertheless, in the following pages, show the insect in a light as yet unsuspected. the ferocious beast of prey, the ogre who devours all creatures that are not too strong for him, is himself killed and eaten: by his fellows, and by many others. standing one day in the shadow of the plane-trees that grow before my door, i see a golden gardener go by as if on pressing business. the pilgrim is well met; he will go to swell the contents of my vivarium. in capturing him i notice that the extremities of the wing-covers are slightly damaged. is this the result of a struggle between rivals? there is nothing to tell me. the essential thing is that the insect should not be handicapped by any serious injury. inspected, and found to be without any serious wound and fit for service, it is introduced into the glass dwelling of its twenty-five future companions. next day i look for the new inmate. it is dead. its comrades have attacked it during the night and have cleaned out its abdomen, insufficiently protected by the damaged wing-covers. the operation has been performed very cleanly, without any dismemberment. claws, head, corselet, all are correctly in place; the abdomen only has a gaping wound through which its contents have been removed. what remains is a kind of golden shell, formed of the two conjoined elytra. the shell of an oyster emptied of its inmate is not more empty. this result astonishes me, for i have taken good care that the cage should never be long without food. the snail, the pine-cockchafer, the praying mantis, the lob-worm, the caterpillar, and other favourite insects, have all been given in alternation and in sufficient quantities. in devouring a brother whose damaged armour lent itself to any easy attack my beetles had not the excuse of hunger. is it their custom to kill the wounded and to eviscerate such of their fellows as suffer damage? pity is unknown among insects. at the sight of the desperate struggles of a crippled fellow-creature none of the same family will cry a halt, none will attempt to come to its aid. among the carnivorous insects the matter may develop to a tragic termination. with them, the passers-by will often run to the cripple. but do they do so in order to help it? by no means: merely to taste its flesh, and, if they find it agreeable, to perform the most radical cure of its ills by devouring it. it is possible, therefore, that the gardener with the injured wing-covers had tempted his fellows by the sight of his imperfectly covered back. they saw in their defenceless comrade a permissible subject for dissection. but do they respect one another when there is no previous wound? at first there was every appearance that their relations were perfectly pacific. during their sanguinary meals there is never a scuffle between the feasters; nothing but mere mouth-to-mouth thefts. there are no quarrels during the long siestas in the shelter of the board. half buried in the cool earth, my twenty-five subjects slumber and digest their food in peace; they lie sociably near one another, each in his little trench. if i raise the plank they awake and are off, running hither and thither, constantly encountering one another without hostilities. the profoundest peace is reigning, and to all appearances will last for ever, when in the early days of june i find a dead gardener. its limbs are intact; it is reduced to the condition of a mere golden husk; like the defenceless beetle i have already spoken of, it is as empty as an oyster-shell. let us examine the remains. all is intact, save the huge breach in the abdomen. so the insect was sound and unhurt when the others attacked it. a few days pass, and another gardener is killed and dealt with as before, with no disorder in the component pieces of its armour. let us place the dead insect on its belly; it is to all appearances untouched. place it on its back; it is hollow, and has no trace of flesh left beneath its carapace. a little later, and i find another empty relic; then another, and yet another, until the population of my menagerie is rapidly shrinking. if this insensate massacre continues i shall soon find my cage depopulated. are my beetles hoary with age? do they die a natural death, and do the survivors then clean out the bodies? or is the population being reduced at the expense of sound and healthy insects? it is not easy to elucidate the matter, since the atrocities are commonly perpetrated in the night. but, finally, with vigilance, on two occasions, i surprise the beetles at their work in the light of day. towards the middle of june a female attacks a male before my eyes. the male is recognisable by his slightly smaller size. the operation commences. raising the ends of the wing-covers, the assailant seizes her victim by the extremity of the abdomen, from the dorsal side. she pulls at him furiously, eagerly munching with her mandibles. the victim, who is in the prime of life, does not defend himself, nor turn upon his assailant. he pulls his hardest in the opposite direction to free himself from those terrible fangs; he advances and recoils as he is overpowered by or overpowers the assassin; and there his resistance ends. the struggle lasts a quarter of an hour. other beetles, passing by, call a halt, and seem to say "my turn next!" finally, redoubling his efforts, the male frees himself and flies. if he had not succeeded in escaping the ferocious female would undoubtedly have eviscerated him. [illustration: the golden gardener: the mating season over, the males are eviscerated by the females.] a few days later i witness a similar scene, but this time the tragedy is played to the end. once more it is a female who seizes a male from behind. with no other protest except his futile efforts to escape, the victim is forced to submit. the skin finally yields; the wound enlarges, and the viscera are removed and devoured by the matron, who empties the carapace, her head buried in the body of her late companion. the legs of the miserable victim tremble, announcing the end. the murderess takes no notice; she continues to rummage as far as she can reach for the narrowing of the thorax. nothing is left but the closed boat-shaped wing-covers and the fore parts of the body. the empty shell is left lying on the scene of the tragedy. in this way must have perished the beetles--always males--whose remains i find in the cage from time to time; thus the survivors also will perish. between the middle of june and the 1st of august the inhabitants of the cage, twenty-five in number at the outset, are reduced to five, all of whom are females. all the males, to the number of twenty, have disappeared, eviscerated and completely emptied. and by whom? apparently by the females. that this is the case is attested in the first place by the two assaults of which i was perchance the witness; on two occasions, in broad daylight, i saw the female devouring the male, having opened the abdomen under the wing-covers, or having at least attempted to do so. as for the rest of the massacres, although direct observation was lacking, i had one very valuable piece of evidence. as we have seen, the victim does not retaliate, does not defend himself, but simply tries to escape by pulling himself away. if it were a matter of an ordinary fight, a conflict such as might arise in the struggle for life, the creature attacked would obviously retaliate, since he is perfectly well able to do so; in an ordinary conflict he would meet force by force, and return bite for bite. his strength would enable him to come well out of a struggle, but the foolish creature allows himself to be devoured without retaliating. it seems as though an invincible repugnance prevents him from offering resistance and in turn devouring the devourer. this tolerance reminds one of the scorpion of languedoc, which on the termination of the hymeneal rites allows the female to devour him without attempting to employ his weapon, the venomous dagger which would form a formidable defence; it reminds us also of the male of the praying mantis, which still embraces the female though reduced to a headless trunk, while the latter devours him by small mouthfuls, with no rebellion or defence on his part. there are other examples of hymeneal rites to which the male offers no resistance. the males of my menagerie of gardeners, one and all eviscerated, speak of similar customs. they are the victims of the females when the latter have no further use for them. for four months, from april to august, the insects pair off continually; sometimes tentatively, but usually the mating is effective. the business of mating is all but endless for these fiery spirits. the gardener is prompt and businesslike in his affairs of the heart. in the midst of the crowd, with no preliminary courtship, the male throws himself upon the female. the female thus embraced raises her head a trifle as a sign of acquiescence, while the cavalier beats the back of her neck with his antennæ. the embrace is brief, and they abruptly separate; after a little refreshment the two parties are ready for other adventures, and yet others, so long as there are males available. after the feast, a brief and primitive wooing; after the wooing, the feast; in such delights the life of the gardener passes. the females of my collection were in no proper ratio to the number of aspiring lovers; there were five females to twenty males. no matter; there was no rivalry, no hustling; all went peacefully and sooner or later each was satisfied. i should have preferred a better proportioned assembly. chance, not choice, had given me that at my disposal. in the early spring i had collected all the gardeners i could find under the stones of the neighbourhood, without distinguishing the sexes, for they are not easy to recognise merely by external characteristics. later on i learned by watching them that a slight excess of size was the distinctive sign of the female. my menagerie, so ill-proportioned in the matter of sex, was therefore the result of chance. i do not suppose this preponderance of males exists in natural conditions. on the other hand, one never sees such numerous groups at liberty, in the shelter of the same stone. the gardener lives an almost solitary life; it is rarely that one finds two or three beneath the same object of shelter. the gathering in my menagerie was thus exceptional, although it did not lead to confusion. there is plenty of room in the glass cage for excursions to a distance and for all their habitual manoeuvres. those who wish for solitude can obtain it; those who wish for company need not seek it. for the rest, captivity cannot lie heavily on them; that is proved by their frequent feasts, their constant mating. they could not thrive better in the open; perhaps not so well, for food is less abundant under natural conditions. in the matter of well-being the prisoners are in a normal condition, favourable to the maintenance of their usual habits. it is true that encounters of beetle with beetle are more frequent here than in the open. hence, no doubt, arise more opportunities for the females to persecute the males whom they no longer require; to fall upon them from the rear and eviscerate them. this pursuit of their onetime lovers is aggravated by their confined quarters; but it certainly is not caused thereby, for such customs are not suddenly originated. the mating season over, the female encountering a male in the open must evidently regard him as fair game, and devour him as the termination of the matrimonial rites. i have turned over many stones, but have never chanced upon this spectacle, but what has occurred in my menagerie is sufficient to convince me. what a world these beetles live in, where the matron devours her mate so soon as her fertility delivers her from the need of him! and how lightly the males must be regarded by custom, to be served in this manner! is this practice of post-matrimonial cannibalism a general custom in the insect world? for the moment, i can recollect only three characteristic examples: those of the praying mantis, the golden gardener, and the scorpion of languedoc. an analogous yet less brutal practice--for the victim is defunct before he is eaten--is a characteristic of the locust family. the female of the white-faced decticus will eagerly devour the body of her dead mate, as will the green grasshopper. to a certain extent this custom is excused by the nature of the insect's diet; the decticus and the grasshopper are essentially carnivorous. encountering a dead body of their own species, a female will devour it, even if it be the body of her latest mate. but what are we to say in palliation of the vegetarians? at the approach of the breeding season, before the eggs are laid, the ephippigera turns upon her still living mate, disembowels him, and eats as much of him as her appetite will allow. the cheerful cricket shows herself in a new light at this season; she attacks the mate who lately wooed her with such impassioned serenades; she tears his wings, breaks his musical thighs, and even swallows a few mouthfuls of the instrumentalist. it is probable that this deadly aversion of the female for the male at the end of the mating season is fairly common, especially among the carnivorous insects. but what is the object of this atrocious custom? that is a question i shall not fail to answer when circumstances permit. chapter x the field-cricket the breeding of crickets demands no particular preparations. a little patience is enough--patience, which according to buffon is genius; but which i, more modestly, will call the superlative virtue of the observer. in april, may, or later we may establish isolated couples in ordinary flower-pots containing a layer of beaten earth. their diet will consist of a leaf of lettuce renewed from time to time. the pot must be covered with a square of glass to prevent the escape of the inmates. i have gathered some very curious data from these makeshift appliances, which may be used with and as a substitute for the cages of wire gauze, although the latter are preferable. we shall return to the point presently. for the moment let us watch the process of breeding, taking care that the critical hour does not escape us. it was during the first week of june that my assiduous visits were at last repaid. i surprised the female motionless, with the oviduct planted vertically in the soil. heedless of the indiscreet visitor, she remained for a long time stationed at the same point. finally she withdrew her oviduct, and effaced, though without particular care, the traces of the hole in which her eggs were deposited, rested for a moment, walked away, and repeated the operation; not once, but many times, first here, then there, all over the area at her disposal. her behaviour was precisely the same as that of the decticus, except that her movements were more deliberate. at the end of twenty-four hours her eggs were apparently all laid. for greater certainty i waited a couple of days longer. i then examined the earth in the pot. the eggs, of a straw-yellow, are cylindrical in form, with rounded ends, and measure about one-tenth of an inch in length. they are placed singly in the soil, in a perpendicular position. i have found them over the whole area of the pot, at a depth of a twelfth of an inch. as closely as the difficulties of the operation will allow, i have estimated the eggs of a single female, upon passing the earth through a sieve, at five or six hundred. such a family will certainly undergo an energetic pruning before very long. the egg of the cricket is a curiosity, a tiny mechanical marvel. after hatching it appears as a sheath of opaque white, open at the summit, where there is a round and very regular aperture, to the edge of which adheres a little valve like a skull-cap which forms the lid. instead of breaking at random under the thrusts or the cuts of the new-formed larva, it opens of itself along a line of least resistance which occurs expressly for the purpose. the curious process of the actual hatching should be observed. a fortnight after the egg is laid two large eye-marks, round and of a reddish black, are seen to darken the forward extremity of the egg. next, a little above these two points, and right at the end of the cylinder, a tiny circular capsule or swelling is seen. this marks the line of rupture, which is now preparing. presently the translucency of the egg allows us to observe the fine segmentation of the tiny inmate. now is the moment to redouble our vigilance and to multiply our visits, especially during the earlier part of the day. fortune favours the patient, and rewards my assiduity round the little capsule changes of infinite delicacy have prepared the line of least resistance. the end of the egg, pushed by the head of the inmate, becomes detached, rises, and falls aside like the top of a tiny phial. the cricket issues like a jack-in-the-box. when the cricket has departed the shell remains distended, smooth, intact, of the purest white, with the circular lid hanging to the mouth of the door of exit. the egg of the bird breaks clumsily under the blows of a wart-like excrescence which is formed expressly upon the beak of the unborn bird; the egg of the cricket, of a far superior structure, opens like an ivory casket. the pressure of the inmate's head is sufficient to work the hinge. the moment he is deprived of his white tunic, the young cricket, pale all over, almost white, begins to struggle against the overlying soil. he strikes it with his mandibles; he sweeps it aside, kicking it backwards and downwards; and being of a powdery quality, which offers no particular resistance, he soon arrives at the surface, and henceforth knows the joys of the sun, and the perils of intercourse with the living; a tiny, feeble creature, little larger than a flea. his colour deepens. in twenty-four hours he assumes a splendid ebony black which rivals that of the adult insect. of his original pallor he retains only a white girdle which encircles the thorax and reminds one of the leading-string of an infant. very much on the alert, he sounds his surroundings with his long vibrating antennæ; he toddles and leaps along with a vigour which his future obesity will no longer permit. this is the age of stomach troubles. what are we to give him to eat? i do not know. i offer him adult diet--the tender leaves of a lettuce. he disdains to bite it; or perhaps his bites escape me, so tiny would they be. in a few days, what with my ten households, i see myself loaded with family cares. what shall i do with my five or six thousand crickets, an attractive flock, to be sure, but one i cannot bring up in my ignorance of the treatment required? i will give you liberty, gentle creatures! i will confide you to the sovereign nurse and schoolmistress, nature! it is done. here and there about my orchard, in the most favourable localities, i loose my legions. what a concert i shall have before my door next year if all goes well! but no! there will probably be silence, for the terrible extermination will follow which corresponds with the fertility of the mother. a few couples only may survive: that is the most we can hope. the first to come to the living feast and the most eager at the slaughter are the little grey lizard and the ant. i am afraid this latter, hateful filibuster that it is, will not leave me a single cricket in my garden. it falls upon the tiny crickets, eviscerates them, and devours them with frantic greed. satanic creature! and to think that we place it in the front rank of the insect world! the books celebrate its virtues and never tire of its praises; the naturalists hold it in high esteem and add to its reputation daily; so true is it of animals, as of man, that of the various means of living in history the most certain is to do harm to others. every one knows the _bousier_ (dung-beetle) and the necrophorus, those lively murderers; the gnat, the drinker of blood; the wasp, the irascible bully with the poisoned dagger; and the ant, the maleficent creature which in the villages of the south of france saps and imperils the rafters and ceilings of a dwelling with the same energy it brings to the eating of a fig. i need say no more; human history is full of similar examples of the useful misunderstood and undervalued and the calamitous glorified. what with the ants and other exterminating forces, the massacre was so great that the colonies of crickets in my orchard, so numerous at the outset, were so far decimated that i could not continue my observations, but had to resort to the outside world for further information. in august, among the detritus of decaying leaves, in little oases whose turf is not burned by the sun, i find the young cricket has already grown to a considerable size; he is all black, like the adult, without a vestige of the white cincture of the early days. he has no domicile. the shelter of a dead leaf, the cover afforded by a flat stone is sufficient; he is a nomad, and careless where he takes his repose. [illustration: 1. the field-cricket. a duel between rivals. 2. the field-cricket. the defeated rival retires, insulted by the victor.] not until the end of october, when the first frosts are at hand, does the work of burrowing commence. the operation is very simple, as far as i can tell from what i have learned from the insect in captivity. the burrow is never made at a bare or conspicuous point; it is always commenced under the shelter of a faded leaf of lettuce, the remains of the food provided. this takes the place of the curtain of grass so necessary to preserve the mysterious privacy of the establishment. the little miner scratches with his fore-claws, but also makes use of the pincers of his mandibles in order to remove pieces of grit or gravel of any size. i see him stamping with his powerful hinder limbs, which are provided with a double row of spines; i see him raking and sweeping backwards the excavated material, and spreading it out in an inclined plane. this is his whole method. at first the work goes forward merrily. the excavator disappears under the easily excavated soil of his prison after two hours' labour. at intervals he returns to the orifice, always tail first, and always raking and sweeping. if fatigue overcomes him he rests on the threshold of his burrow, his head projecting outwards, his antennæ gently vibrating. presently he re-enters his tunnel and sets to work again with his pincers and rakes. presently his periods of repose grow longer and tire my patience. the most important part of the work is now completed. once the burrow has attained a depth of a couple of inches, it forms a sufficient shelter for the needs of the moment. the rest will be the work of time; a labour resumed at will, for a short time daily. the burrow will be made deeper and wider as the growth of the inmate and the inclemency of the season demand. even in winter, if the weather is mild, and the sun smiles upon the threshold of his dwelling, one may sometimes surprise the cricket thrusting out small quantities of loosened earth, a sign of enlargement and of further burrowing. in the midst of the joys of spring the cares of the house still continue; it is constantly restored and perfected until the death of the occupant. april comes to an end, and the song of the cricket commences. at first we hear only timid and occasional solos; but very soon there is a general symphony, when every scrap of turf has its performer. i am inclined to place the cricket at the head of the choristers of spring. in the waste lands of provence, when the thyme and the lavender are in flower, the cricket mingles his note with that of the crested lark, which ascends like a lyrical firework, its throat swelling with music, to its invisible station in the clouds, whence it pours its liquid arias upon the plain below. from the ground the chorus of the crickets replies. it is monotonous and artless, yet how well it harmonises, in its very simplicity, with the rustic gaiety of a world renewed! it is the hosanna of the awakening, the alleluia of the germinating seed and the sprouting blade. to which of the two performers should the palm be given? i should award it to the cricket; he triumphs by force of numbers and his never-ceasing note. the lark hushes her song, that the blue-grey fields of lavender, swinging their aromatic censers before the sun, may hear the cricket alone at his humble, solemn celebration. but here the anatomist intervenes, roughly demanding of the cricket: "show me your instrument, the source of your music!" like all things of real value, it is very simple; it is based on the same principle as that of the locusts; there is the toothed fiddlestick and the vibrating tympanum. the right wing-cover overlaps the left and almost completely covers it, except for the sudden fold which encases the insect's flank. this arrangement is the reverse of that exhibited by the green grasshopper, the decticus, the ephippigera, and their relations. the cricket is right-handed, the others left-handed. the two wing-covers have the same structure. to know one is to know the other. let us examine that on the right hand. it is almost flat on the back, but suddenly folds over at the side, the turn being almost at right angles. this lateral fold encloses the flank of the abdomen and is covered with fine oblique and parallel nervures. the powerful nervures of the dorsal portion of the wing-cover are of the deepest black, and their general effect is that of a complicated design, not unlike a tangle of arabic caligraphy. seen by transmitted light the wing-cover is of a very pale reddish colour, excepting two large adjacent spaces, one of which, the larger and anterior, is triangular in shape, while the other, the smaller and posterior, is oval. each space is surrounded by a strong nervure and goffered by slight wrinkles or depressions. these two spaces represent the mirror of the locust tribe; they constitute the sonorous area. the substance of the wing-cover is finer here than elsewhere, and shows traces of iridescent though somewhat smoky colour. these are parts of an admirable instrument, greatly superior to that of the decticus. the five hundred prisms of the bow biting upon the ridges of the wing-cover opposed to it set all four tympanums vibrating at once; the lower pair by direct friction, the upper pair by the vibration of the wing-cover itself. what a powerful sound results! the decticus, endowed with only one indifferent "mirror," can be heard only at a few paces; the cricket, the possessor of four vibratory areas, can be heard at a hundred yards. the cricket rivals the cigale in loudness, but his note has not the displeasing, raucous quality of the latter. better still: he has the gift of expression, for he can sing loud or soft. the wing-covers, as we have seen, are prolonged in a deep fold over each flank. these folds are the dampers, which, as they are pressed downwards or slightly raised, modify the intensity of the sound, and according to the extent of their contact with the soft abdomen now muffle the song to a _mezza voce_ and now let it sound _fortissimo_. peace reigns in the cage until the warlike instinct of the mating period breaks out. these duels between rivals are frequent and lively, but not very serious. the two rivals rise up against one another, biting at one another's heads--these solid, fang-proof helmets--roll each other over, pick themselves up, and separate. the vanquished cricket scuttles off as fast as he can; the victor insults him by a couple of triumphant and boastful chirps; then, moderating his tone, he tacks and veers about the desired one. the lover proceeds to make himself smart. hooking one of his antennæ towards him with one of his free claws, he takes it between his mandibles in order to curl it and moisten it with saliva. with his long hind legs, spurred and laced with red, he stamps with impatience and kicks out at nothing. emotion renders him silent. his wing-covers are nevertheless in rapid motion, but are no longer sounding, or at most emit but an unrhythmical rubbing sound. presumptuous declaration! the female cricket does not run to hide herself in the folds of her lettuce leaves; but she lifts the curtain a little, and looks out, and wishes to be seen:- _et fugit ad salices, et se cupit ante videri._ she flies towards the brake, but hopes first to be perceived, said the poet of the delightful eclogue, two thousand years ago. sacred provocations of lovers, are they not in all ages the same? chapter xi the italian cricket my house shelters no specimens of the domestic cricket, the guest of bakeries and rustic hearths. but although in my village the chinks under the hearthstones are mute, the nights of summer are musical with a singer little known in the north. the sunny hours of spring have their singer, the field-cricket of which i have written; while in the summer, during the stillness of the night, we hear the note of the italian cricket, the _oecanthus pellucens_, scop. one diurnal and one nocturnal, between them they share the kindly half of the year. when the field-cricket ceases to sing it is not long before the other begins its serenade. the italian cricket has not the black costume and heavy shape characteristic of the family. it is, on the contrary, a slender, weakly creature; its colour very pale, indeed almost white, as is natural in view of its nocturnal habits. in handling it one is afraid of crushing it between the fingers. it lives an aerial existence; on shrubs and bushes of all kinds, on tall herbage and grasses, and rarely descends to the earth. its song, the pleasant voice of the calm, hot evenings from july to october, commences at sunset and continues for the greater part of the night. this song is familiar to all provençals; for the least patch of thicket or tuft of grasses has its group of instrumentalists. it resounds even in the granaries, into which the insect strays, attracted thither by the fodder. but no one, so mysterious are the manners of the pallid cricket, knows exactly what is the source of the serenade, which is often, though quite erroneously, attributed to the common field-cricket, which at this period is silent and as yet quite young. the song consists of a _gri-i-i, gri-i-i_, a slow, gentle note, rendered more expressive by a slight tremor. hearing it, one divines the extreme tenuity and the amplitude of the vibrating membranes. if the insect is not in any way disturbed as it sits in the low foliage, the note does not vary, but at the least noise the performer becomes a ventriloquist. first of all you hear it there, close by, in front of you, and the next moment you hear it over there, twenty yards away; the double note decreased in volume by the distance. you go forward. nothing is there. the sound proceeds again from its original point. but no--it is not there; it is to the left now--unless it is to the right--or behind.... complete confusion! it is impossible to detect, by means of the ear, the direction from which the chirp really comes. much patience and many precautions will be required before you can capture the insect by the light of the lantern. a few specimens caught under these conditions and placed in a cage have taught me the little i know concerning the musician who so perfectly deceives our ears. the wing-covers are both formed of a dry, broad membrane, diaphanous and as fine as the white skin on the outside of an onion, which is capable of vibrating over its whole area. their shape is that of the segment of a circle, cut away at the upper end. this segment is bent at a right angle along a strong longitudinal nervure, and descends on the outer side in a flap which encloses the insect's flank when in the attitude of repose. the right wing-cover overlaps the left. its inner edge carries, on the under side, near the base, a callosity from which five radiating nervures proceed; two of them upwards and two downwards, while the fifth runs approximately at right angles to these. this last nervure, which is of a slightly reddish hue, is the fundamental element of the musical device; it is, in short, the bow, the fiddlestick, as is proved by the fine notches which run across it. the rest of the wing-cover shows a few more nervures of less importance, which hold the membrane stretched tight, but do not form part of the friction apparatus. the left or lower wing-cover is of similar structure, with the difference that the bow, the callosity, and the nervures occupy the upper face. it will be found that the two bows--that is, the toothed or indented nervures--cross one another obliquely. when the note has its full volume, the wing-covers are well raised above the body like a wide gauzy sail, only touching along the internal edges. the two bows, the toothed nervures, engage obliquely one with the other, and their mutual friction causes the sonorous vibration of the two stretched membranes. [illustration: the italian cricket.] the sound can be modified accordingly as the strokes of each bow bear upon the callosity, which is itself serrated or wrinkled, or on one of the four smooth radiating nervures. thus in part are explained the illusions produced by a sound which seems to come first from one point, then from another, when the timid insect is alarmed. the production of loud or soft resounding or muffled notes, which gives the illusion of distance, the principal element in the art of the ventriloquist, has another and easily discovered source. to produce the loud, open sounds the wing-covers are fully lifted; to produce the muted, muffled notes they are lowered. when lowered their outer edges press more or less lightly on the soft flanks of the insect, thus diminishing the vibratory area and damping the sound. the gentle touch of a finger-tip muffles the sharp, loud ringing of a glass tumbler or "musical-glass" and changes it into a veiled, indefinite sound which seems to come from a distance. the white cricket knows this secret of acoustics. it misleads those that seek it by pressing the edge of its vibrating membranes to the soft flesh of its abdomen. our musical instruments have their dampers; that of the _oecanthus pellucens_ rivals and surpasses them in simplicity of means and perfection of results. the field-cricket and its relatives also vary the volume of their song by raising or lowering the elytra so as to enclose the abdomen in a varying degree, but none of them can obtain by this method results so deceptive as those produced by the italian cricket. to this illusion of distance, which is a source of perpetually renewed surprise, evoked by the slightest sound of our footsteps, we must add the purity of the sound, and its soft tremolo. i know of no insect voice more gracious, more limpid, in the profound peace of the nights of august. how many times, _per amica silentia lunæ_, have i lain upon the ground, in the shelter of a clump of rosemary, to listen to the delicious concert! the nocturnal cricket sings continually in the gardens. each tuft of the red-flowered cistus has its band of musicians, and each bush of fragrant lavender. the shrubs and the terebinth-trees contain their orchestras. with its clear, sweet voice, all this tiny world is questioning, replying, from bush to bush, from tree to tree; or rather, indifferent to the songs of others, each little being is singing his joys to himself alone. above my head the constellation of cygnus stretches its great cross along the milky way; below, all around me, palpitates the insect symphony. the atom telling of its joys makes me forget the spectacle of the stars. we know nothing of these celestial eyes which gaze upon us, cold and calm, with scintillations like the blinking of eyelids. science tells us of their distance, their speeds, their masses, their volumes; it burdens us with stupendous numbers and stupefies us with immensities; but it does not succeed in moving us. and why? because it lacks the great secret: the secret of life. what is there, up there? what do these suns warm? worlds analogous to ours, says reason; planets on which life is evolving in an endless variety of forms. a superb conception of the universe, but after all a pure conception, not based upon patent facts and infallible testimony at the disposal of one and all. the probable, even the extremely probable, is not the obvious, the evident, which forces itself irresistibly and leaves no room for doubt. but in your company, o my crickets, i feel the thrill of life, the soul of our native lump of earth; and for this reason, as i lean against the hedge of rosemary, i bestow only an absent glance upon the constellation of cygnus, but give all my attention to your serenade. a little animated slime, capable of pleasure and pain, surpasses in interest the universe of dead matter. chapter xii the sisyphus beetle.--the instinct of paternity the duties of paternity are seldom imposed on any but the higher animals. they are most notable in the bird; and the furry peoples acquit themselves honourably. lower in the scale we find in the father a general indifference as to the fate of the family. very few insects form exceptions to this rule. although all are imbued with a mating instinct that is almost frenzied, nearly all, when the passion of the moment is appeased, terminate then and there their domestic relations, and withdraw, indifferent to the brood, which has to look after itself as best it may. this paternal coldness, which would be odious in the higher walks of animal life, where the weakness of the young demands prolonged assistance, has in the insect world the excuse that the new-born young are comparatively robust, and are able, without help, to fill their mouths and stomachs, provided they find themselves in propitious surroundings. all that the prosperity of the race demands of the pierides, or cabbage butterflies, is that they should deposit their eggs on the leaves of the cabbage; what purpose would be served by the instincts of a father? the botanical instinct of the mother needs no assistance. at the period of laying the father would be in the way. let him pursue his flirtations elsewhere; the laying of eggs is a serious business. in the case of the majority of insects the process of education is unknown, or summary in the extreme. the insect has only to select a grazing-ground upon which its family will establish itself the moment it is hatched; or a site which will allow the young to find their proper sustenance for themselves. there is no need of a father in these various cases. after mating, the discarded male, who is henceforth useless, drags out a lingering existence of a few days, and finally perishes without having given the slightest assistance in the work of installing his offspring. but matters are not everywhere so primitive as this. there are tribes in which an inheritance is prepared for the family which will assure it both of food and of shelter in advance. the hymenoptera in particular are past-masters in the provision of cellars, jars, and other utensils in which the honey-paste destined for the young is stored; they are perfect in the art of excavating storehouses of food for their grubs. this stupendous labour of construction and provisioning, this labour that absorbs the insect's whole life, is the work of the mother only, who wears herself out at her task. the father, intoxicated with sunlight, lies idle on the threshold of the workshop, watching the heroic female at her work, and regards himself as excused from all labour when he has plagued his neighbours a little. does he never perform useful work? why does he not follow the example of the swallows, each of whom brings a fair share of the straw and mortar for the building of the nest and the midges for the young brood? no, he does nothing; perhaps alleging the excuse of his relative weakness. but this is a poor excuse; for to cut out little circles from a leaf, to rake a little cotton from a downy plant, or to gather a little mortar from a muddy spot, would hardly be a task beyond his powers. he might very well collaborate, at least as labourer; he could at least gather together the materials for the more intelligent mother to place in position. the true motive of his idleness is ineptitude. it is a curious thing that the hymenoptera, the most skilful of all industrial insects, know nothing of paternal labour. the male of the genus, in whom we should expect the requirements of the young to develop the highest aptitudes, is as useless as a butterfly, whose family costs so little to establish. the actual distribution of instinct upsets our most reasonable previsions. it upsets our expectations so completely that we are surprised to find in the dung-beetle the noble prerogative which is lacking in the bee tribe. the mates of several species of dung-beetle keep house together and know the worth of mutual labour. consider the male and female geotrupes, which prepare together the patrimony of their larvæ; in their case the father assists his companion with the pressure of his robust body in the manufacture of their balls of compressed nutriment. these domestic habits are astonishing amidst the general isolation. to this example, hitherto unique, my continual researches in this direction permit me to-day to add three others which are fully as interesting. all three are members of the corporation of dung-beetles. i will relate their habits, but briefly, as in many respects their history is the same as that of the sacred scarabæus, the spanish copris, and others. the first example is the sisyphus beetle (_sisyphus schæfferi_, lin.), the smallest and most industrious of our pill-makers. it has no equal in lively agility, grotesque somersaults, and sudden tumbles down the impossible paths or over the impracticable obstacles to which its obstinacy is perpetually leading it. in allusion to these frantic gymnastics latreille has given the insect the name of sisyphus, after the celebrated inmate of the classic hades. this unhappy spirit underwent terrible exertions in his efforts to heave to the top of a mountain an enormous rock, which always escaped him at the moment of attaining the summit, and rolled back to the foot of the slope. begin again, poor sisyphus, begin again, begin again always! your torments will never cease until the rock is firmly placed upon the summit of the mountain. i like this myth. it is, in a way, the history of many of us; not odious scoundrels worthy of eternal torments, but worthy and laborious folk, useful to their neighbours. one crime alone is theirs to expiate: the crime of poverty. half a century or more ago, for my own part, i left many blood-stained tatters on the crags of the inhospitable mountain; i sweated, strained every nerve, exhausted my veins, spent without reckoning my reserves of energy, in order to carry upward and lodge in a place of security that crushing burden, my daily bread; and hardly was the load balanced but it once more slipped downwards, fell, and was engulfed. begin again, poor sisyphus; begin again, until your burden, falling for the last time, shall crush your head and set you free at length. the sisyphus of the naturalists knows nothing of these tribulations. agile and lively, careless of slope or precipice, he trundles his load, which is sometimes food for himself, sometimes for his offspring. he is very rare hereabouts; i should never have succeeded in obtaining a sufficient number of specimens for my purpose but for an assistant whom i may opportunely present to the reader, for he will be mentioned again in these recitals. this is my son, little paul, aged seven. an assiduous companion of the chase, he knows better than any one of his age the secrets of the cigale, the cricket, and especially of the dung-beetle, his great delight. at a distance of twenty yards his clear sight distinguishes the refuse-tip of a beetle's burrow from a chance lump of earth; his fine ear will catch the chirping of a grasshopper inaudible to me. he lends me his sight and hearing, and i in return make him free of my thoughts, which he welcomes attentively, raising his wide blue eyes questioningly to mine. what an adorable thing is the first blossoming of the intellect! best of all ages is that when the candid curiosity awakens and commences to acquire knowledge of every kind. little paul has his own insectorium, in which the scarabæus makes his balls; his garden, the size of a handkerchief, in which he grows haricot beans, which are often dug up to see if the little roots are growing longer; his plantation, containing four oak-trees an inch in height, to which the acorns still adhere. these serve as diversions after the arid study of grammar, which goes forward none the worse on that account. what beautiful and useful knowledge the teaching of natural history might put into childish heads, if only science would consider the very young; if our barracks of universities would only combine the lifeless study of books with the living study of the fields; if only the red tape of the curriculum, so dear to bureaucrats, would not strangle all willing initiative. little paul and i will study as much as possible in the open country, among the rosemary bushes and arbutus. there we shall gain vigour of body and of mind; we shall find the true and the beautiful better than in school-books. to-day the blackboard has a rest; it is a holiday. we rise early, in view of the intended expedition; so early that we must set out fasting. but no matter; when we are hungry we shall rest in the shade, and you will find in my knapsack the usual viaticum--apples and a crust of bread. the month of may is near; the sisyphus should have appeared. now we must explore at the foot of the mountain, the scanty pastures through which the herds have passed; we must break with our fingers, one by one, the cakes of sheep-dung dried by the sun, but still retaining a spot of moisture in the centre. there we shall find sisyphus, cowering and waiting until the evening for fresher pasturage. possessed of this secret, which i learned from previous fortuitous discoveries, little paul immediately becomes a master in the art of dislodging the beetle. he shows such zeal, has such an instinct for likely hiding-places, that after a brief search i am rich beyond my ambitions. behold me the owner of six couples of sisyphus beetles: an unheard-of number, which i had never hoped to obtain. for their maintenance a wire-gauze cover suffices, with a bed of sand and diet to their taste. they are very small, scarcely larger than a cherry-stone. their shape is extremely curious. the body is dumpy, tapering to an acorn-shaped posterior; the legs are very long, resembling those of the spider when outspread; the hinder legs are disproportionately long and curved, being thus excellently adapted to enlace and press the little pilule of dung. mating takes place towards the beginning of may, on the surface of the soil, among the remains of the sheep-dung on which the beetles have been feeding. soon the moment for establishing the family arrives. with equal zeal the two partners take part in the kneading, transport, and baking of the food for their offspring. with the file-like forelegs a morsel of convenient size is shaped from the piece of dung placed in the cage. father and mother manipulate the piece together, striking it blows with their claws, compressing it, and shaping it into a ball about the size of a big pea. as in the case of the _scarabæus sacer_, the exact spherical form is produced without the mechanical device of rolling the ball. before it is moved, even before it is cut loose from its point of support, the fragment is modelled into the shape of a sphere. the beetle as geometer is aware of the form best adapted to the long preservation of preserved foods. the ball is soon ready. it must now be forced to acquire, by means of a vigorous rolling, the crust which will protect the interior from a too rapid evaporation. the mother, recognisable by her slightly robuster body, takes the place of honour in front. her long hinder legs on the soil, her forelegs on the ball, she drags it towards her as she walks backwards. the father pushes behind, moving tail first, his head held low. this is exactly the method of the scarabæus beetles, which also work in couples, though for another object. the sisyphus beetles harness themselves to provide an inheritance for their larvæ; the larger insects are concerned in obtaining the material for a banquet which the two chance-met partners will consume underground. the couple set off, with no definite goal ahead, across the irregularities of the soil, which cannot be avoided by a leader who hauls backwards. but even if the sisyphus saw the obstacles she would not try to evade them: witness her obstinate endeavour to drag her load up the wire gauze of her cage! a hopeless undertaking! fixing her hinder claws in the meshes of the wire gauze the mother drags her burden towards her; then, enlacing it with her legs, she holds it suspended. the father, finding no purchase for his legs, clutches the ball, grows on to it, so to speak, thus adding his weight to that of the burden, and awaits events. the effort is too great to last. ball and beetle fall together. the mother, from above, gazes a moment in surprise, and suddenly lets herself fall, only to re-embrace the ball and recommence her impracticable efforts to scale the wall. after many tumbles the attempt is at last abandoned. even on level ground the task is not without its difficulties. at every moment the load swerves on the summit of a pebble, a fragment of gravel; the team are overturned, and lie on their backs, kicking their legs in the air. this is a mere nothing. they pick themselves up and resume their positions, always quick and lively. the accidents which so often throw them on their backs seem to cause them no concern; one would even think they were invited. the pilule has to be matured, given a proper consistency. in these conditions falls, shocks, blows, and jolts might well enter into the programme. this mad trundling lasts for hours and hours. finally, the mother, considering that the matter has been brought to a satisfactory conclusion, departs in search of a favourable place for storage. the father, crouched upon the treasure, waits. if the absence of his companion is prolonged he amuses himself by rapidly whirling the pill between his hind legs, which are raised in the air. he juggles with the precious burden; he tests its perfections between his curved legs, calliper-wise. seeing him frisking in this joyful occupation, who can doubt that he experiences all the satisfactions of a father assured of the future of his family? it is i, he seems to say, it is i who have made this loaf, so beautifully round; it is i who have made the hard crust to preserve the soft dough; it is i who have baked it for my sons! and he raises on high, in the sight of all, this magnificent testimonial of his labours. but now the mother has chosen the site. a shallow pit is made, the mere commencement of the projected burrow. the ball is pushed and pulled until it is close at hand. the father, a vigilant watchman, still retains his hold, while the mother digs with claws and head. soon the pit is deep enough to receive the ball; she cannot dispense with the close contact of the sacred object; she must feel it bobbing behind her, against her back, safe from all parasites and robbers, before she can decide to burrow further. she fears what might happen to the precious loaf if it were abandoned at the threshold of the burrow until the completion of the dwelling. there is no lack of midges and tiny dung-beetles--aphodiinæ--which might take possession of it. it is only prudent to be distrustful. so the ball is introduced into the pit, half in and half out of the mouth of the burrow. the mother, below, clasps and pulls; the father, above, moderates the jolts and prevents it from rolling. all goes well. digging is resumed, and the descent continues, always with the same prudence; one beetle dragging the load, the other regulating its descent and clearing away all rubbish that might hinder the operation. a few more efforts, and the ball disappears underground with the two miners. what follows will be, for a time at least, only a repetition of what we have seen. let us wait half a day or so. if our vigilance is not relaxed we shall see the father regain the surface alone, and crouch in the sand near the mouth of the burrow. retained by duties in the performance of which her companion can be of no assistance, the mother habitually delays her reappearance until the following day. when she finally emerges the father wakes up, leaves his hiding place, and rejoins her. the reunited couple return to their pasturage, refresh themselves, and then cut out another ball of dung. as before, both share the work; the hewing and shaping, the transport, and the burial in ensilage. this conjugal fidelity is delightful; but is it really the rule? i should not dare to affirm that it is. there must be flighty individuals who, in the confusion under a large cake of droppings, forget the fair confectioners for whom they have worked as journeymen, and devote themselves to the services of others, encountered by chance; there must be temporary unions, and divorces after the burial of a single pellet. no matter: the little i myself have seen gives me a high opinion of the domestic morals of the sisyphus. let us consider these domestic habits a little further before coming to the contents of the burrow. the father works fully as hard as the mother at the extraction and modelling of the pellet which is destined to be the inheritance of a larva; he shares in the work of transport, even if he plays a secondary part; he watches over the pellet when the mother is absent, seeking for a suitable site for the excavation of the cellar; he helps in the work of digging; he carries away the rubbish from the burrow; finally, to crown all these qualities, he is in a great measure faithful to his spouse. the scarabæus exhibits some of these characteristics. he also assists his spouse in the preparation of pellets of dung; he also assists her to transport the pellets, the pair facing each other and the female going backwards. but as i have stated already, the motive of this mutual service is selfish; the two partners labour only for their own good. the feast is for themselves alone. in the labours that concern the family the female scarabæus receives no assistance. alone she moulds her sphere, extracts it from the lump and rolls it backwards, with her back to her task, in the position adopted by the male sisyphus; alone she excavates her burrow, and alone she buries the fruit of her labour. oblivious of the gravid mother and the future brood, the male gives her no assistance in her exhausting task. how different to the little pellet-maker, the sisyphus! it is now time to visit the burrow. at no very great depth we find a narrow chamber, just large enough for the mother to move around at her work. its very exiguity proves that the male cannot remain underground; so soon as the chamber is ready he must retire in order to leave the female room to move. we have, in fact, seen that he returns to the surface long before the female. the contents of the cellar consist of a single pellet, a masterpiece of plastic art. it is a miniature reproduction of the pear-shaped ball of the scarabæus, a reproduction whose very smallness gives an added value to the polish of the surface and the beauty of its curves. its larger diameter varies from half to three-quarters of an inch. it is the most elegant product of the dung-beetle's art. but this perfection is of brief duration. very soon the little "pear" becomes covered with gnarled excrescences, black and twisted, which disfigure it like so many warts. part of the surface, which is otherwise intact, disappears under a shapeless mass. the origin of these knotted excrescences completely deceived me at first. i suspected some cryptogamic vegetation, some _spheriæcæa_, for example, recognisable by its black, knotted, incrusted growth. it was the larva that showed me my mistake. the larva is a maggot curved like a hook, carrying on its back an ample pouch or hunch, forming part of its alimentary canal. the reserve of excreta in this hunch enables it to seal accidental perforations of the shell of its lodging with an instantaneous jet of mortar. these sudden emissions, like little worm-casts, are also practised by the scarabæus, but the latter rarely makes use of them. the larvæ of the various dung-beetles utilise their alimentary residues in rough-casting their houses, which by their dimensions lend themselves to this method of disposal, while evading the necessity of opening temporary windows by which the ordure can be expelled. whether for lack of sufficient room, or for other reasons which escape me, the larva of the sisyphus, having employed a certain amount in the smoothing of the interior, ejects the rest of its digestive products from its dwelling. let us examine one of these "pears" when the inmate is already partly grown. sooner or later we shall see a spot of moisture appear at some point on the surface; the wall softens, becomes thinner, and then, through the softened shell, a jet of dark green excreta rises and falls back upon itself in corkscrew convolutions. one excrescence the more has been formed; as it dries it becomes black. what has occurred? the larva has opened a temporary breach in the wall of its shell; and through this orifice, in which a slight thickness of the outer glaze still remains, it has expelled the excess of mortar which it could not employ within. this practice of forming oubliettes in the shell of its prison does not endanger the grub, as they are immediately closed, and hermetically sealed by the base of the jet, which is compressed as by a stroke of a trowel. the stopper is so quickly put in place that the contents remain moist in spite of the frequent breaches made in the shell of the "pear." there is no danger of an influx of the dry outer air. the sisyphus seems to be aware of the peril which later on, in the dog-days, will threaten its "pear," small as it is, and so near the surface of the ground. it is extremely precocious. it labours in april and may when the air is mild. in the first fortnight of july, before the terrible dog-days have arrived, the members of its family break their shells and set forth in search of the heap of droppings which will furnish them with food and lodging during the fierce days of summer. then come the short but pleasant days of autumn, the retreat underground and the winter torpor, the awakening of spring, and finally the cycle is closed by the festival of pellet-making. one word more as to the fertility of the sisyphus. my six couples under the wire-gauze cover furnished me with fifty-seven inhabited pellets. this gives an average of more than nine to each couple; a figure which the _scarabæus sacer_ is far from attaining. to what should we attribute this superior fertility? i can only see one cause: the fact that the male works as valiantly as the female. family cares too great for the strength of one are not too heavy when there are two to support them. chapter xiii a bee-hunter: the _philanthus aviporus_ to encounter among the hymenoptera, those ardent lovers of flowers, a species which goes a-hunting on its own account is, to say the least of it, astonishing. that the larder of the larvæ should be provisioned with captured prey is natural enough; but that the provider, whose diet is honey, should itself devour its captives is a fact both unexpected and difficult to comprehend. we are surprised that a drinker of nectar should become a drinker of blood. but our surprise abates if we consider the matter closely. the double diet is more apparent than real; the stomach which fills itself with the nectar of flowers does not gorge itself with flesh. when she perforates the rump of her victim the odynerus does not touch the flesh, which is a diet absolutely contrary to her tastes; she confines herself to drinking the defensive liquid which the grub distils at the end of its intestine. for her this liquid is doubtless a beverage of delicious flavour, with which she relieves from time to time her staple diet of the honey distilled by flowers, some highly spiced condiment, appetiser or aperient, or perhaps--who knows?--a substitute for honey. although the qualities of the liquid escape me, i see at least that odynerus cares nothing for the rest. once the pouch is emptied the larva is abandoned as useless offal, a certain sign of non-carnivorous appetites. under these conditions the persecutor of chrysomela can no longer be regarded as guilty of an unnatural double dietary. we may even wonder whether other species also are not apt to draw some direct profit from the hunting imposed upon them by the needs of the family. the procedure of odynerus in opening the anal pouch is so far removed from the usual that we should not anticipate many imitators; it is a secondary detail, and impracticable with game of a different kind. but there may well be a certain amount of variety in the means of direct utilisation. why, for example, when the victim which has just been paralysed or rendered insensible by stinging contains in the stomach a delicious meal, semi-liquid or liquid in consistency, should the hunter scruple to rob the half-living body and force it to disgorge without injuring the quality of its flesh? there may well be robbers of the moribund, attracted not by their flesh but by the appetising contents of their stomachs. as a matter of fact there are such, and they are numerous. in the first rank we may cite that hunter of the domestic bee, _philanthus aviporus_ (latreille). for a long time i suspected philanthus of committing such acts of brigandage for her own benefit, having many times surprised her gluttonously licking the honey-smeared mouth of the bee; i suspected that her hunting of the bee was not undertaken entirely for the benefit of her larvæ. the suspicion was worth experimental confirmation. at the time i was interested in another question also: i wanted to study, absolutely at leisure, the methods by which the various predatory species dealt with their victims. in the case of philanthus i made use of the improvised cage already described; and philanthus it was who furnished me with my first data on the subject. she responded to my hopes with such energy that i thought myself in possession of an unequalled method of observation, by means of which i could witness again and again, to satiety even, incidents of a kind so difficult to surprise in a state of nature. alas! the early days of my acquaintance with philanthus promised me more than the future had in store for me! not to anticipate, however, let us place under the bell-glass the hunter and the game. i recommend the experiment to whomsoever would witness the perfection with which the predatory hymenoptera use their stings. the result is not in doubt and the waiting is short; the moment the prey is perceived in an attitude favourable to her designs, the bandit rushes at it, and all is over. in detail, the tragedy develops as follows: i place under a bell-glass a philanthus and two or three domestic bees. the prisoners climb the glass walls, on the more strongly lighted side; they ascend, descend, and seek to escape; the polished, vertical surface is for them quite easy to walk upon. they presently quiet down, and the brigand begins to notice her surroundings. the antennæ point forward, seeking information; the hinder legs are drawn up with a slight trembling, as of greed and rapacity, in the thighs; the head turns to the right and the left, and follows the evolutions of the bees against the glass. the posture of the scoundrelly insect is strikingly expressive; one reads in it the brutal desires of a creature in ambush, the cunning patience that postpones attack. the choice is made, and philanthus throws herself upon her victim. turn by turn tumbled and tumbling, the two insects roll over and over. but the struggle soon quiets down, and the assassin commences to plunder her prize. i have seen her adopt two methods. in the first, more usual than the other, the bee is lying on the ground, upon its back, and philanthus, mouth to mouth and abdomen to abdomen, clasps it with her six legs, while she seizes its neck in her mandibles. the abdomen is then curved forward and gropes for a moment for the desired spot in the upper part of the thorax, which it finally reaches. the sting plunges into the victim, remains in the wound for a moment, and all is over. without loosing the victim, which is still tightly clasped, the murderer restores her abdomen to the normal position and holds it pressed against that of the bee. by the second method philanthus operates standing upright. resting on the hinder feet and the extremity of the folded wings, she rises proudly to a vertical position, holding the bee facing her by her four anterior claws. in order to get the bee into the proper position for the final stroke, she swings the poor creature round and back again with the careless roughness of a child dandling a doll. her pose is magnificent, solidly based upon her sustaining tripod, the two posterior thighs and the end of the wings, she flexes the abdomen forwards and upwards, and, as before, stings the bee in the upper part of the thorax. the originality of her pose at the moment of striking surpasses anything i have ever witnessed. the love of knowledge in matters of natural history is not without its cruelties. to make absolutely certain of the point attained by the sting, and to inform myself completely concerning this horrible talent for murder, i have provoked i dare not confess how many assassinations in captivity. without a single exception, the bee has always been stung in the throat. in the preparations for the final blow the extremity of the abdomen may of course touch here and there, at different points of the thorax or abdomen, but it never remains there, nor is the sting unsheathed, as may easily be seen. once the struggle has commenced the philanthus is so absorbed in her operations that i can remove the glass cover and follow every detail of the drama with my magnifying-glass. the invariable situation of the wound being proved, i bend back the head of the bee, so as to open the articulation. i see under what we may call the chin of the bee a white spot, hardly a twenty-fifth of an inch square, where the horny integuments are lacking, and the fine skin is exposed uncovered. it is there, always there, in that tiny defect in the bee's armour, that the sting is inserted. why is this point attacked rather than another? is it the only point that is vulnerable? stretch open the articulation of the corselet to the rear of the first pair of legs. there you will see an area of defenceless skin, fully as delicate as that of the throat, but much more extensive. the horny armour of the bee has no larger breach. if the philanthus were guided solely by considerations of vulnerability she would certainly strike there, instead of insistently seeking the narrow breach in the throat. the sting would not grope or hesitate, it would find its mark at the first attempt. no; the poisoned thrust is not conditioned by mechanical considerations; the murderer disdains the wide breach in the corselet and prefers the lesser one beneath the chin, for purely logical reasons which we will now attempt to elicit. the moment the bee is stung i release it from the aggressor. i am struck in the first place by the sudden inertia of the antennæ and the various members of the mouth; organs which continue to move for so long a time in the victims of most predatory creatures. i see none of the indications with which my previous studies of paralysed victims have made me familiar: the antennæ slowly waving, the mandibles opening and closing, the palpæ trembling for days, for weeks, even for months. the thighs tremble for a minute or two at most; and the struggle is over. henceforth there is complete immobility. the significance of this sudden inertia is forced upon me: the philanthus has stabbed the cervical ganglions. hence the sudden immobility of all the organs of the head: hence the real, not the apparent death of the bee. the philanthus does not paralyse merely, but kills. this is one step gained. the murderer chooses the point below the chin as the point of attack, in order to reach the principal centres of innervation, the cephalic ganglions, and thus to abolish life at a single blow. the vital centres being poisoned, immediate death must follow. if the object of the philanthus were merely to cause paralysis she would plunge her sting into the defective corselet, as does the cerceris in attacking the weevil, whose armour is quite unlike the bee's. her aim is to kill outright, as we shall presently see; she wants a corpse, not a paralytic. we must admit that her technique is admirable; our human murderers could do no better. her posture of attack, which is very different to that of the paralysers, is infallibly fatal to the victim. whether she delivers the attack in the erect position or prone, she holds the bee before her, head to head and thorax to thorax. in this position it suffices to flex the abdomen in order to reach the joint of the neck, and to plunge the sting obliquely upwards into the head of the captive. if the bee were seized in the inverse position, or if the sting were to go slightly astray, the results would be totally different; the sting, penetrating the bee in a downward direction, would poison the first thoracic ganglion and provoke a partial paralysis only. what art, to destroy a miserable bee! in what fencing-school did the slayer learn that terrible upward thrust beneath the chin? and as she has learned it, how is it that her victim, so learned in matters of architecture, so conversant with the politics of socialism, has so far learned nothing in her own defence? as vigorous as the aggressor, she also carries a rapier, which is even more formidable and more painful in its results--at all events, when my finger is the victim! for centuries and centuries philanthus has stored her cellars with the corpses of bees, yet the innocent victim submits, and the annual decimation of her race has not taught her how to deliver herself from the scourge by a well-directed thrust. i am afraid i shall never succeed in understanding how it is that the assailant has acquired her genius for sudden murder while the assailed, better armed and no less powerful, uses her dagger at random, and so far without effect. if the one has learned something from the prolonged exercise of the attack, then the other should also have learned something from the prolonged exercise of defence, for attack and defence are of equal significance in the struggle for life. among the theorists of our day, is there any so far-sighted as to be able to solve this enigma? i will take this opportunity of presenting a second point which embarrasses me; it is the carelessness--it is worse than that--the imbecility of the bee in the presence of the philanthus. one would naturally suppose that the persecuted insect, gradually instructed by family misfortune, would exhibit anxiety at the approach of the ravisher, and would at least try to escape. but in my bell-glasses or wire-gauze cages i see nothing of the kind. once the first excitement due to imprisonment has passed the bee takes next to no notice of its terrible neighbour. i have seen it side by side with philanthus on the same flower; assassin and future victim were drinking from the same goblet. i have seen it stupidly coming to inquire what the stranger might be, as the latter crouched watching on the floor. when the murderer springs it is usually upon some bee which passes before her, and throws itself, so to speak, into her clutches; either thoughtlessly or out of curiosity. there is no frantic terror, no sign of anxiety, no tendency to escape. how is it that the experience of centuries, which is said to teach so much to the lower creatures, has not taught the bee even the beginning of apine wisdom: a deep-rooted horror of the philanthus? does the bee count upon its sting? but the unhappy creature is no fencer; it thrusts without method, at random. nevertheless, let us watch it at the final and fatal moment. when the ravisher brings her sting into play the bee also uses its sting, and with fury. i see the point thrusting now in this direction, now in that; but in empty air, or grazing and slipping over the convexity of the murderer's back, which is violently flexed. these blows have no serious results. in the position assumed by the two as they struggle the abdomen of the philanthus is inside and that of the bee outside; thus the sting of the latter has under its point only the dorsal face of the enemy, which is convex and slippery, and almost invulnerable, so well is it armoured. there is no breach there by which the sting might possibly enter; and the operation takes place with the certainty of a skilful surgeon using the lancet, despite the indignant protests of the patient. the fatal stroke once delivered, the murderer remains for some time on the body of the victim, clasping it face to face, for reasons that we must now consider. it may be that the position is perilous for philanthus. the posture of attack and self-protection is abandoned, and the ventral area, more vulnerable than the back, is exposed to the sting of the bee. now the dead bee retains for some minutes the reflex use of the sting, as i know to my cost: for removing the bee too soon from the aggressor, and handling it carelessly, i have received a most effectual sting. in her long embrace of the poisoned bee, how does philanthus avoid this sting, which does not willingly give up its life without vengeance? are there not sometimes unexpected accidents? perhaps. here is a fact which encourages me in this belief. i had placed under the bell-glass at the same time four bees and as many eristales, in order to judge of the entomological knowledge of philanthus as exemplified in the distinction of species. reciprocal quarrels broke out among the heterogeneous group. suddenly, in the midst of the tumult, the killer is killed. who has struck the blow? certainly not the turbulent but pacific eristales; it was one of the bees, which by chance had thrust truly in the mellay. when and how? i do not know. this accident is unique in my experience; but it throws a light upon the question. the bee is capable of withstanding its adversary; it can, with a thrust of its envenomed needle, kill the would-be killer. that it does not defend itself more skilfully when it falls into the hands of its enemy is due to ignorance of fencing, not to the weakness of the arm. and here again arises, more insistently than before, the question i asked but now: how is it that the philanthus has learned for purposes of attack what the bee has not learned for purposes of defence. to this difficulty i see only one reply: the one knows without having learned and the other does not know, being incapable of learning. let us now examine the motives which induce the philanthus to kill its bee instead of paralysing it. the murder once committed, it does not release its victim for a moment, but holding it tightly clasped with its six legs pressed against its body, it commences to ravage the corpse. i see it with the utmost brutality rooting with its mandibles in the articulation of the neck, and often also in the more ample articulation of the corselet, behind the first pair of legs; perfectly aware of the fine membrane in that part, although it does not take advantage of the fact when employing its sting, although this vulnerable point is the more accessible of the two breaches in the bee's armour. i see it squeezing the bee's stomach, compressing it with its own abdomen, crushing it as in a vice. the brutality of this manipulation is striking; it shows that there is no more need of care and skill. the bee is a corpse, and a little extra pushing and squeezing will not deteriorate its quality as food, provided there is no effusion of blood; and however rough the treatment, i have never been able to discover the slightest wound. these various manipulations, above all the compression of the throat, lead to the desired result: the honey in the stomach of the bee ascends to the mouth. i see the drops of honey welling out, lapped up by the glutton as soon as they appear. the bandit greedily takes in its mouth the extended and sugared tongue of the dead insect; then once more it presses the neck and the thorax, and once more applies the pressure of its abdomen to the honey-sac of the bee. the honey oozes forth and is instantly licked up. this odious meal at the expense of the corpse is taken in a truly sybaritic attitude: the philanthus lies upon its side with the bee between its legs. this atrocious meal lasts often half an hour and longer. finally the exhausted corpse is abandoned; regretfully, it seems, for from time to time i have seen the ogre return to the feast and repeat its manipulation of the body. after taking a turn round the top of the bell-glass the robber of the dead returns to the victim, squeezes it once more, and licks its mouth until the last trace of honey has disappeared. the frantic passion of the philanthus for the honey of the bee is betrayed in another fashion. when the first victim has been exhausted i have introduced a second bee, which has been promptly stabbed under the chin and squeezed as before in order to extract its honey. a third has suffered the same fate without appeasing the bandit. i have offered a fourth, a fifth; all are accepted. my notes record that a philanthus sacrificed six bees in succession before my eyes, and emptied them all of honey in the approved manner. the killing came to an end not because the glutton was satiated, but because my functions as provider were becoming troublesome; the dry month of august leaves but few insects in the flowerless garden. six bees emptied of their honey--what a gluttonous meal! yet the famishing creature would doubtless have welcomed a copious addition thereto had i had the means of furnishing it! we need not regret the failure of bees upon this occasion; for what i have already written is sufficient testimony of the singular habits of this murderer of bees. i am far from denying that the philanthus has honest methods of earning its living; i see it among the flowers, no less assiduous than the rest of the hymenoptera, peacefully drinking from their cups of nectar. the male, indeed, being stingless, knows no other means of supporting himself. the mothers, without neglecting the flowers as a general thing, live by brigandage as well. it is said of the labba, that pirate of the seas, that it pounces upon sea-birds as they rise from the waves with captured fish in their beaks. with a blow of the beak delivered in the hollow of the stomach, the aggressor forces the victim to drop its prey, and promptly catches it as it falls. the victim at least escapes with nothing worse than a blow at the base of the neck. the philanthus, less scrupulous, falls upon the bee, stabs it to death and makes it disgorge in order to nourish herself upon its honey. nourish, i say, and i do not withdraw the expression. to support my statement i have better reasons than those already presented. in the cages in which various predatory hymenoptera whose warlike habits i am studying are confined, waiting until i have procured the desired prey--not always an easy proceeding--i have planted a few heads of flowers and a couple of thistle-heads sprinkled with drops of honey, renewed at need. on these my captives feed. in the case of the philanthus the honeyed flowers, although welcomed, are not indispensable. it is enough if from time to time i place in the cage a few living bees. half a dozen a day is about the proper allowance. with no other diet than the honey extracted from their victims i keep my specimens of philanthus for a fortnight and three weeks. so much is plain: in a state of freedom, when occasion offers, the philanthus must kill on her own account as she does in captivity. the odynerus asks nothing of the chrysomela but a simple condiment, the aromatic juice of the anal pouch; the philanthus demands a full diet, or at least a notable supplement thereto, in the form of the contents of the stomach. what a hecatomb of bees must not a colony of these pirates sacrifice for their personal consumption, to say nothing of their stores of provisions! i recommend the philanthus to the vengeance of apiarists. for the moment we will not look further into the original causes of the crime. let us consider matters as we know them, with all their real or apparent atrocity. in order to nourish herself the philanthus levies tribute upon the crop of the bee. this being granted, let us consider the method of the aggressor more closely. she does not paralyse its captives according to the customary rites of the predatory insects; she kills them. why? to the eyes of understanding the necessity of a sudden death is as clear as day. without eviscerating the bee, which would result in the deterioration of its flesh considered as food for the larvæ; without having recourse to the bloody extirpation of the stomach, the philanthus intends to obtain its honey. by skilful manipulation, by cunning massage, she must somehow make the bee disgorge. suppose the bee stung in the rear of the corselet and paralysed. it is deprived of locomotion, but not of vitality. the digestive apparatus, in particular, retains in full, or at least in part, its normal energies, as is proved by the frequent dejections of paralysed victims so long as the intestine is not emptied; a fact notably exemplified by the victims of the sphex family; helpless creatures which i have before now kept alive for forty days with the aid of a little sugared water. well! without therapeutic means, without emetics or stomach-pumps, how is a stomach intact and in good order to be persuaded to yield up its contents? that of the bee, jealous of its treasure, will lend itself to such treatment less readily than another. paralysed, the creature is inert; but there are always internal energies and organic resistances which will not yield to the pressure of the manipulator. in vain would the philanthus gnaw at the throat and squeeze the flanks; the honey would not return to the mouth as long as a trace of life kept the stomach closed. matters are different with a corpse. the springs relax; the muscles yield; the resistance of the stomach ceases, and the vessels containing the honey are emptied by the pressure of the thief. we see, therefore, that the philanthus is obliged to inflict a sudden death which instantly destroys the contractile power of the organs. where shall the deadly blow be delivered? the slayer knows better than we, when she pierces the victim beneath the chin. through the narrow breach in the throat the cerebral ganglions are reached and immediate death ensues. the examination of these acts of brigandage is not sufficient in view of my incorrigible habit of following every reply by another query, until the granite wall of the unknowable rises before me. although the philanthus is skilled in forcing the bee to disgorge, in emptying the crop distended with honey, this diabolical skill cannot be merely an alimentary resource, above all when in common with other insects she has access to the refectory of the flowers. i cannot regard her talents as inspired solely by the desire of a meal obtained by the labour of emptying the stomach of another insect. something must surely escape us here: the real reason for emptying the stomach. perhaps a respectable reason is concealed by the horrors i have recorded. what is it? every one will understand the vagueness which fills the observer's mind in respect of such a question as this. the reader has the right to be doubtful. i will spare him my suspicions, my gropings for the truth, and the checks encountered in the search, and give him the results of my long inquiry. everything has its appropriate and harmonious reason. i am too fully persuaded of this to believe that the philanthus commits her profanation of corpses merely to satisfy her appetite. what does the empty stomach mean? may it not--yes!--but, after all, who knows? well, let us follow up the scent. the first care of the mothers is the welfare of the family. so far all we know of the philanthus concerns her talent for murder. let us consider her as a mother. we have seen her hunt on her own account; let us now watch her hunt for her offspring, for the race. nothing is simpler than to distinguish between the two kinds of hunting. when the insect wants a few good mouthfuls of honey and nothing else, she abandons the bee contemptuously when she has emptied its stomach. it is so much valueless waste, which will shrivel where it lies and be dissected by ants. if, on the other hand, she intends to place it in the larder as a provision for her larvæ, she clasps it with her two intermediate legs, and, walking on the other four, drags it to and fro along the edge of the bell-glass in search of an exit so that she may fly off with her prey. having recognised the circular wall as impassable, she climbs its sides, now holding the bee in her mandibles by the antennæ, clinging as she climbs to the vertical polished surface with all six feet. she gains the summit of the glass, stays for a little while in the flask-like cavity of the terminal button or handle, returns to the ground, and resumes her circuit of the glass and her climbing, relinquishing the bee only after an obstinate attempt to escape with it. the persistence with which the philanthus retains her clasp upon the encumbering burden shows plainly that the game would go straight to the larder were the insect at liberty. those bees intended for the larvæ are stung under the chin like the others; they are true corpses; they are manipulated, squeezed, exhausted of their honey, just as the others. there is no difference in the method of capture nor in their after-treatment. as captivity might possibly result in a few anomalies of action, i decided to inquire how matters went forward in the open. in the neighbourhood of some colonies of philanthidæ i lay in wait, watching for perhaps a longer time than the question justified, as it was already settled by what occurred in captivity. my scrupulous watching at various times was rewarded. the majority of the hunters immediately entered their nests, carrying the bees pressed against their bodies; some halted on the neighbouring undergrowth; and these i saw treating the bee in the usual manner, and lapping the honey from its mouth. after these preparations the corpse was placed in the larder. all doubt was thus destroyed: the bees provided for the larvæ are previously carefully emptied of their honey. since we are dealing with the subject, let us take the opportunity of inquiring into the customs of the philanthus in a state of freedom. making use of her victims when absolutely lifeless, so that they would putrefy in the course of a few days, this hunter of bees cannot adopt the customs of certain insects which paralyse their prey, and fill their cellars before laying an egg. she must surely be obliged to follow the method of the bembex, whose larva receives, at intervals, the necessary nourishment; the amount increasing as the larva grows. the facts confirm this deduction. i spoke just now of the tediousness of my watching when watching the colonies of the philanthus. it was perhaps even more tedious than when i was keeping an eye upon the bembex. before the burrows of _cerceris tuberculus_ and other devourers of the weevil, and before that of the yellow-winged sphex, the slayer of crickets, there is plenty of distraction, owing to the busy movements of the community. the mothers have scarcely entered the nest before they are off again, returning quickly with fresh prey, only to set out once more. the going and coming is almost continuous until the storehouse is full. the burrows of the philanthus know nothing of such animation, even in a populous colony. in vain my vigils prolonged themselves into whole mornings or afternoons, and only very rarely does the mother who has entered with a bee set forth upon a second expedition. two captures by the same huntress is the most that i have seen in my long watches. once the family is provided with sufficient food for the moment the mother postpones further hunting trips until hunting becomes necessary, and busies herself with digging and burrowing in her underground dwelling. little cells are excavated, and i see the rubbish from them gradually pushed up to the surface. with that exception there is no sign of activity; it is as though the burrow were deserted. to lay the nest bare is not easy. the burrow penetrates to a depth of about three feet in a compact soil; sometimes in a vertical, sometimes in a horizontal direction. the spade and pick, wielded by hands more vigorous but less expert than my own, are indispensable; but the conduct of the excavation is anything but satisfactory. at the extremity of the long gallery--it seems as though the straw i use for sounding would never reach the end--we finally discover the cells, egg-shaped cavities with the longer axis horizontal. their number and their mutual disposition escape me. some already contain the cocoon--slender and translucid, like that of the cerceris, and, like it, recalling the shape of certain homoeopathic phials, with oval bodies surmounted by a tapering neck. by the extremity of the neck, which is blackened and hardened by the dejecta of the larvæ, the cocoon is fixed to the end of the cell without any other support. it reminds one of a short club, planted by the end of the handle, in a line with the horizontal axis of the cell. other cells contain the larva in a stage more or less advanced. the grub is eating the last victim proffered; around it lie the remains of food already consumed. others, again, show me a bee, a single bee, still intact, and having an egg deposited on the under-side of the thorax. this bee represents the first instalment of rations; others will follow as the grub matures. my expectations are thus confirmed; as with bembex, slayer of diptera, so philanthus, killer of bees, lays her egg upon the first body stored, and completes, at intervals, the provisioning of the cells. the problem of the dead bee is elucidated; there remains the other problem, of incomparable interest--why, before they are given over to the larvæ, are the bees robbed of their honey? i have said, and i repeat, that the killing and emptying of the bee cannot be explained solely by the gluttony of the philanthus. to rob the worker of its booty is nothing; such things are seen every day; but to slaughter it in order to empty its stomach--no, gluttony cannot be the only motive. and as the bees placed in the cells are squeezed dry no less than the others, the idea occurs to me that as a beefsteak garnished with _confitures_ is not to every one's taste, so the bee sweetened with honey may well be distasteful or even harmful to the larvæ of the philanthus. what would the grub do if, replete with blood and flesh, it were to find under its mandibles the honey-bag of the bee?--if, gnawing at random, it were to open the bees stomach and so drench its game with syrup? would it approve of the mixture? would the little ogre pass without repugnance from the gamey flavour of a corpse to the scent of flowers? to affirm or deny is useless. we must see. let us see. i take the young larvæ of the philanthus, already well matured, but instead of serving them with the provisions buried in their cells i offer them game of my own catching--bees that have filled themselves with nectar among the rosemary bushes. my bees, killed by crushing the head, are thankfully accepted, and at first i see nothing to justify my suspicions. then my nurslings languish, show themselves disdainful of their food, give a negligent bite here and there, and finally, one and all, die beside their uncompleted meal. all my attempts miscarry; not once do i succeed in rearing my larvæ as far as the stage of spinning the cocoon. yet i am no novice in my duties as dry-nurse. how many pupils have passed through my hands and have reached the final stage in my old sardine-boxes as well as in their native burrows! i shall draw no conclusions from this check, which my scruples may attribute to some unknown cause. perhaps the atmosphere of my cabinet and the dryness of the sand serving them for a bed have been too much for my nurslings, whose tender skins are used to the warm moisture of the subsoil. let us try another method. to decide positively whether honey is or is not repugnant to the grubs of the philanthus was hardly practicable by the method just explained. the first meals consisted of flesh, and after that nothing in particular occurred. the honey is encountered later, when the bee is largely consumed. if hesitation and repugnance were manifested at this point they came too late to be conclusive; the sickness of the larvæ might be due to other causes, known or unknown. we must offer honey at the very beginning, before artificial rearing has spoilt the grub's appetite. to offer pure honey would, of course, be useless; no carnivorous creature would touch it, even were it starving. i must spread the honey on meat; that is, i must smear the dead bee with honey, lightly varnishing it with a camel's-hair brush. under these conditions the problem is solved with the first few mouthfuls. the grub, having bitten on the honeyed bee, draws back as though disgusted; hesitates for a long time; then, urged by hunger, begins again; tries first on one side, then on another; in the end it refuses to touch the bee again. for a few days it pines upon its rations, which are almost intact, then dies. as many as are subjected to the same treatment perish in the same way. do they simply die of hunger in the presence of food which their appetites reject, or are they poisoned by the small amount of honey absorbed at the first bites? i cannot say; but, whether poisonous or merely repugnant, the bee smeared with honey is always fatal to them; a fact which explains more clearly than the unfavourable circumstances of the former experiment my lack of success with the freshly killed bees. this refusal to touch honey, whether poisonous or repugnant, is connected with principles of alimentation too general to be a gastronomic peculiarity of the philanthus grub. other carnivorous larvæ--at least in the series of the hymenoptera--must share it. let us experiment. the method need not be changed. i exhume the larvæ when in a state of medium growth, to avoid the vicissitudes of extreme youth; i collect the bodies of the grubs and insects which form their natural diet and smear each body with honey, in which condition i return them to the larvæ. a distinction is apparent: all the larvæ are not equally suited to my experiment. those larvæ must be rejected which are nourished upon one single corpulent insect, as is that of the scolia. the grub attacks its prey at a determined point, plunges its head and neck into the body of the insect, skilfully divides the entrails in order to keep the remains fresh until its meal is ended, and does not emerge from the opening until all is consumed but the empty skin. to interrupt the larva with the object of smearing the interior of its prey with honey is doubly objectionable; i might extinguish the lingering vitality which keeps putrefaction at bay in the victim, and i might confuse the delicate art of the larva, which might not be able to recover the lode at which it was working or to distinguish between those parts which are lawfully and properly eaten and those which must not be consumed until a later period. as i have shown in a previous volume, the grub of the scolia has taught me much in this respect. the only larvæ acceptable for this experiment are those which are fed on a number of small insects, which are attacked without any special art, dismembered at random, and quickly consumed. among such larvæ i have experimented with those provided by chance--those of various bembeces, fed on diptera; those of the palaris, whose diet consists of a large variety of hymenoptera; those of the tachytus, provided with young crickets; those of the odynerus, fed upon larvæ of the chrysomela; those of the sand-dwelling cerceris, endowed with a hecatomb of weevils. as will be seen, both consumers and consumed offer plenty of variety. well, in every case their proper diet, seasoned with honey, is fatal. whether poisoned or disgusted, they all die in a few days. a strange result! honey, the nectar of the flowers, the sole diet of the apiary under its two forms and the sole nourishment of the predatory insect in its adult phase, is for the larva of the same insect an object of insurmountable disgust, and probably a poison. the transfiguration of the chrysalis surprises me less than this inversion of the appetite. what change occurs in the stomach of the insect that the adult should passionately seek that which the larva refuses under peril of death? it is no question of organic debility unable to support a diet too substantial, too hard, or too highly spiced. the grubs which consume the larva of the cetoniæ, for example (the rose-chafers), those which feed upon the leathery cricket, and those whose diet is rich in nitrobenzine, must assuredly have complacent gullets and adaptable stomachs. yet these robust eaters die of hunger or poison for no greater cause than a drop of syrup, the lightest diet imaginable, adapted to the weakness of extreme youth, and a delicacy to the adult! what a gulf of obscurity in the stomach of a miserable worm! these gastronomic experiments called for a counter-proof. the carnivorous grub is killed by honey. is the honey-fed grub, inversely, killed by carnivorous diet? here, again, we must make certain exceptions, observe a certain choice, as in the previous experiments. it would obviously be courting a flat refusal to offer a heap of young crickets to the larvæ of the anthophorus and the osmia, for example; the honey-fed grub would not bite such food. it would be absolutely useless to make such an experiment. we must find the equivalent of the bee smeared with honey; that is, we must offer the larva its ordinary food with a mixture of animal matter added. i shall experiment with albumen, as provided by the egg of the hen; albumen being an isomer of fibrine, which is the principal element of all flesh diet. _osmia tricornis_ will lend itself to my experiment better than any other insect on account of its dry honey, or bee-bread, which is largely formed of flowery pollen. i knead it with the albumen, graduating the dose of the latter so that its weight largely exceeds that of the bee-bread. thus i obtain pastes of various degrees of consistency, but all firm enough to support the larva without danger of immersion. with too fluid a mixture there would be a danger of death by drowning. finally, on each cake of albuminous paste i install a larva of medium growth. this diet is not distasteful; far from it. the grubs attack it without hesitation and devour it with every appearance of a normal appetite. matters could not go better if the food had not been modified according to my recipes. all is eaten; even the portions which i feared contained an excessive proportion of albumen. moreover--a matter of still greater importance--the larvæ of the osmia fed in this manner attain their normal growth and spin their cocoons, from which adults issue in the following year. despite the albuminous diet the cycle of evolution completes itself without mishap. what are we to conclude from all this? i confess i am embarrassed. _omne vivum ex ovo_, says the physiologist. all animals are carnivorous in their first beginnings; they are formed and nourished at the expense of the egg, in which albumen predominates. the highest, the mammals, adhere to this diet for a considerable time; they live by the maternal milk, rich in casein, another isomer of albumen. the gramnivorous nestling is fed first upon worms and grubs, which are best adapted to the delicacy of its stomach; many newly born creatures among the lower orders, being immediately left to their own devices, live on animal diet. in this way the original method of alimentation is continued--the method which builds flesh out of flesh and makes blood out of blood with no chemical processes but those of simple reconstruction. in maturity, when the stomach is more robust, a vegetable diet may be adopted, involving a more complex chemistry, although the food itself is more easily obtained. to milk succeeds fodder; to the worm, seeds and grain; to the dead or paralysed insects of the natal burrow, the nectar of flowers. here is a partial explanation of the double system of the hymenoptera with their carnivorous larvæ--the system of dead or paralysed insects followed by honey. but here the point of interrogation, already encountered elsewhere, erects itself once again. why is the larva of the osmia, which thrives upon albumen, actually fed upon honey during its early life? why is a vegetable diet the rule in the hives of bees from the very commencement, when the other members of the same series live upon animal food? if i were a "transformist" how i should delight in this question! yes, i should say: yes, by the fact of its germ every animal is originally carnivorous. the insect in particular makes a beginning with albuminoid materials. many larvæ adhere to the alimentation present in the egg, as do many adult insects also. but the struggle to fill the belly, which is actually the struggle for life, demands something better than the precarious chances of the chase. man, at first an eager hunter of game, collected flocks and became a shepherd in order to profit by his possessions in time of dearth. further progress inspired him to till the earth and sow; a method which assured him of a certain living. evolution from the defective to the mediocre, and from the mediocre to the abundant, has led to the resources of agriculture. the lower animals have preceded us on the way of progress. the ancestors of the philanthus, in the remote ages of the lacustrian tertiary formations, lived by capturing prey in both phases--both as larvæ and as adults; they hunted for their own benefit as well as for the family. they did not confine themselves to emptying the stomach of the bee, as do their descendants to-day; they devoured the victim entire. from beginning to end they remained carnivorous. later there were fortunate innovators, whose race supplanted the more conservative element, who discovered an inexhaustible source of nourishment, to be obtained without painful search or dangerous conflict: the saccharine exudation of the flowers. the wasteful system of living upon prey, by no means favourable to large populations, has been preserved for the feeble larvæ; but the vigorous adult has abandoned it for an easier and more prosperous existence. thus the philanthus of our own days was gradually developed; thus was formed the double system of nourishment practised by the various predatory insects which we know. the bee has done still better; from the moment of leaving the egg it dispenses completely with chance-won aliments. it has invented honey, the food of its larvæ. renouncing the chase for ever, and becoming exclusively agricultural, this insect has acquired a degree of moral and physical prosperity that the predatory species are far from sharing. hence the flourishing colonies of the anthophoræ, the osmiæ, the euceræ, the halicti, and other makers of honey, while the hunters of prey work in isolation; hence the societies in which the bee displays its admirable talents, the supreme expression of instinct. this is what i should say if i were a "transformist." all this is a chain of highly logical deductions, and it hangs together with a certain air of reality, such as we like to look for in a host of "transformist" arguments which are put forward as irrefutable. well, i make a present of my deductive theory to whosoever desires it, and without the least regret; i do not believe a single word of it, and i confess my profound ignorance of the origin of the twofold system of diet. one thing i do see more clearly after all my experiments and research: the tactics of the philanthus. as a witness of its ferocious feasting, the true motive of which was unknown to me, i treated it to all the unfavourable epithets i could think of; called it assassin, bandit, pirate, robber of the dead. ignorance is always abusive; the man who does not know is full of violent affirmations and malign interpretations. undeceived by the facts, i hasten to apologise and express my esteem for the philanthus. in emptying the stomach of the bee the mother is performing the most praiseworthy of all duties; she is guarding her family against poison. if she sometimes kills on her own account and abandons the body after exhausting it of honey, i dare not call her action a crime. when the habit has once been formed of emptying the bee's crop for the best of motives, the temptation is great to do so with no other excuse than hunger. moreover--who can say?--perhaps there is always some afterthought that the larvæ might profit by the sacrifice. although not carried into effect the intention excuses the act. i therefore withdraw my abusive epithets in order to express my admiration of the creature's maternal logic. honey would be harmful to the grubs. how does the mother know that honey, in which she herself delights, is noxious to her young? to this question our knowledge has no reply. but honey, as we have seen, would endanger the lives of the grubs. the bees must therefore be emptied of honey before they are fed to them. the process must be effected without wounding the victim, for the larva must receive the latter fresh and moist; and this would be impracticable if the insect were paralysed on account of the natural resistance of the organs. the bee must therefore be killed outright instead of being paralysed, otherwise the honey could not be removed. instantaneous death can be assured only by a lesion of the primordial centre of life. the sting must therefore pierce the cervical ganglions; the centre of innervation upon which the rest of the organism is dependent. this can only be reached in one way: through the neck. here it is that the sting will be inserted; and here it is inserted in a breach in the armour no larger than a pin's head. suppress a single link of this closely knit chain, and the philanthus reared upon the flesh of bees becomes an impossibility. that honey is fatal to larvæ is a fact pregnant with consequences. various predatory insects feed their young with honey-makers. such, to my knowledge, are the _philanthus coronatus_, fabr., which stores its burrows with the large halictus; the _philanthus raptor_, lep., which chases all the smaller halictus indifferently, being itself a small insect; the _cerceris ornata_, fabr., which also kills halictus; and the _polaris flavipes_, fabr., which by a strange eclecticism fills its cells with specimens of most of the hymenoptera which are not beyond its powers. what do these four huntresses, and others of similar habits, do with their victims when the crops of the latter are full of honey? they must follow the example of the philanthus or their offspring would perish; they must squeeze and manipulate the dead bee until it yields up its honey. everything goes to prove as much; but for the actual observation of what would be a notable proof of my theory i must trust to the future. chapter xiv the great peacock, or emperor moth it was a memorable night! i will name it the night of the great peacock. who does not know this superb moth, the largest of all our european butterflies[3] with its livery of chestnut velvet and its collar of white fur? the greys and browns of the wings are crossed by a paler zig-zag, and bordered with smoky white; and in the centre of each wing is a round spot, a great eye with a black pupil and variegated iris, resolving into concentric arcs of black, white, chestnut, and purplish red. not less remarkable is the caterpillar. its colour is a vague yellow. on the summit of thinly sown tubercles crowned with a palisade of black hairs are set pearls of a turquoise-blue. the burly brown cocoon, which is notable for its curious tunnel of exit, like an eel-pot, is always found at the base of an old almond-tree, adhering to the bark. the foliage of the same tree nourishes the caterpillar. on the morning of the 6th of may a female emerged from her cocoon in my presence on my laboratory table. i cloistered her immediately, all damp with the moisture of metamorphosis, in a cover of wire gauze. i had no particular intentions regarding her; i imprisoned her from mere habit; the habit of an observer always on the alert for what may happen. i was richly rewarded. about nine o'clock that evening, when the household was going to bed, there was a sudden hubbub in the room next to mine. little paul, half undressed, was rushing to and fro, running, jumping, stamping, and overturning the chairs as if possessed. i heard him call me. "come quick!" he shrieked; "come and see these butterflies! big as birds! the room's full of them!" i ran. there was that which justified the child's enthusiasm and his hardly hyperbolical exclamation. it was an invasion of giant butterflies; an invasion hitherto unexampled in our house. four were already caught and placed in a bird-cage. others--numbers of them--were flying across the ceiling. this astonishing sight recalled the prisoner of the morning to my mind. "put on your togs, kiddy!" i told my son; "put down your cage, and come with me. we shall see something worth seeing." we had to go downstairs to reach my study, which occupies the right wing of the house. in the kitchen we met the servant; she too was bewildered by the state of affairs. she was pursuing the huge butterflies with her apron, having taken them at first for bats. it seemed as though the great peacock had taken possession of my whole house, more or less. what would it be upstairs, where the prisoner was, the cause of this invasion? happily one of the two study windows had been left ajar; the road was open. [illustration: the great peacock or emperor moth.] candle in hand, we entered the room. what we saw is unforgettable. with a soft _flic-flac_ the great night-moths were flying round the wire-gauze cover, alighting, taking flight, returning, mounting to the ceiling, re-descending. they rushed at the candle and extinguished it with a flap of the wing; they fluttered on our shoulders, clung to our clothing, grazed our faces. my study had become a cave of a necromancer, the darkness alive with creatures of the night! little paul, to reassure himself, held my hand much tighter than usual. how many were there? about twenty. to these add those which had strayed into the kitchen, the nursery, and other rooms in the house, and the total must have been nearly forty. it was a memorable sight--the night of the great peacock! come from all points of the compass, warned i know not how, here were forty lovers eager to do homage to the maiden princess that morning born in the sacred precincts of my study. for the time being i troubled the swarm of pretenders no further. the flame of the candle endangered the visitors; they threw themselves into it stupidly and singed themselves slightly. on the morrow we could resume our study of them, and make certain carefully devised experiments. to clear the ground a little for what is to follow, let me speak of what was repeated every night during the eight nights my observations lasted. every night, when it was quite dark, between eight and ten o'clock, the butterflies arrived one by one. the weather was stormy; the sky heavily clouded; the darkness was so profound that out of doors, in the garden and away from the trees, one could scarcely see one's hand before one's face. in addition to such darkness as this there were certain difficulties of access. the house is hidden by great plane-trees; an alley densely bordered with lilacs and rose-trees make a kind of outer vestibule to the entrance; it is protected from the _mistral_ by groups of pines and screens of cypress. a thicket of evergreen shrubs forms a rampart at a few paces from the door. it was across this maze of leafage, and in absolute darkness, that the butterflies had to find their way in order to attain the end of their pilgrimage. under such conditions the screech-owl would not dare to forsake its hollow in the olive-tree. the butterfly, better endowed with its faceted eyes than the owl with its single pupils, goes forward without hesitation, and threads the obstacles without contact. so well it directs its tortuous flight that, in spite of all the obstacles to be evaded, it arrives in a state of perfect freshness, its great wings intact, without the slightest flaw. the darkness is light enough for the butterfly. even if we suppose it to be sensitive to rays unknown to the ordinary retina, this extraordinary sight could not be the sense that warns the butterfly at a distance and brings it hastening to the bride. distance and the objects interposed make the suggestion absurd. moreover, apart from illusory refractions, of which there is no question here, the indications of light are precise; one goes straight to the object seen. but the butterfly was sometimes mistaken: not in the general direction, but concerning the precise position of the attractive object. i have mentioned that the nursery on the other side of the house to my study, which was the actual goal of the visitors, was full of butterflies before a light was taken into it. these were certainly incorrectly informed. in the kitchen there was the same crowd of seekers gone astray; but there the light of a lamp, an irresistible attraction to nocturnal insects, might have diverted the pilgrims. let us consider only such areas as were in darkness. there the pilgrims were numerous. i found them almost everywhere in the neighbourhood of their goal. when the captive was in my study the butterflies did not all enter by the open window, the direct and easy way, the captive being only a few yards from the window. several penetrated the house downstairs, wandered through the hall, and reached the staircase, which was barred at the top by a closed door. these data show us that the visitors to the wedding-feast did not go straight to their goal as they would have done were they attracted by any kind of luminous radiations, whether known or unknown to our physical science. something other than radiant energy warned them at a distance, led them to the neighbourhood of the precise spot, and left the final discovery to be made after a vague and hesitating search. the senses of hearing and smell warn us very much in this way; they are not precise guides when we try to determine exactly the point of origin of a sound or smell. what sense is it that informs this great butterfly of the whereabouts of his mate, and leads him wandering through the night? what organ does this sense affect? one suspects the antennæ; in the male butterfly they actually seem to be sounding, interrogating empty space with their long feathery plumes. are these splendid plumes merely items of finery, or do they really play a part in the perception of the effluvia which guide the lover? it seemed easy, on the occasion i spoke of, to devise a conclusive experiment. on the morrow of the invasion i found in my study eight of my nocturnal visitors. they were perched, motionless, upon the cross-mouldings of the second window, which had remained closed. the others, having concluded their ballet by about ten o'clock at night, had left as they had entered, by the other window, which was left open night and day. these eight persevering lovers were just what i required for my experiment. with a sharp pair of scissors, and without otherwise touching the butterflies, i cut off their antennæ near the base. the victims barely noticed the operation. none moved; there was scarcely a flutter of the wings. their condition was excellent; the wound did not seem to be in the least serious. they were not perturbed by physical suffering, and would therefore be all the better adapted to my designs. they passed the rest of the day in placid immobility on the cross-bars of the window. a few other arrangements were still to be made. in particular it was necessary to change the scene; not to leave the female under the eyes of the mutilated butterflies at the moment of resuming their nocturnal flight; the difficulty of the search must not be lessened. i therefore removed the cage and its captive, and placed it under a porch on the other side of the house, at a distance of some fifty paces from my study. at nightfall i went for a last time to inspect my eight victims. six had left by the open window; two still remained, but they had fallen on the floor, and no longer had the strength to recover themselves if turned over on their backs. they were exhausted, dying. do not accuse my surgery, however. such early decease was observed repeatedly, with no intervention on my part. six, in better condition, had departed. would they return to the call that attracted them the night before? deprived of their antennæ, would they be able to find the captive, now placed at a considerable distance from her original position? the cage was in darkness, almost in the open air. from time to time i visited it with a net and lantern. the visitors were captured, inspected, and immediately released in a neighbouring room, of which i closed the door. this gradual elimination allowed me to count the visitors exactly without danger of counting the same butterfly more than once. moreover, the provisional prison, large and bare, in no wise harmed or endangered the prisoners; they found a quiet retreat there and ample space. similar precautions were taken during the rest of my experiments. after half-past ten no more arrived. the reception was over. total, twenty-five males captured, of which one only was deprived of its antennæ. so of the six operated on earlier in the day, which were strong enough to leave my study and fly back to the fields, only one had returned to the cage. a poor result, in which i could place no confidence as proving whether the antennæ did or did not play a directing part. it was necessary to begin again upon a larger scale. next morning i visited the prisoners of the day before. what i saw was not encouraging. a large number were scattered on the ground, almost inert. taken between the fingers, several of them gave scarcely a sign of life. little was to be hoped from these, it would seem. still, i determined to try; perhaps they would regain their vigour at the lover's hour. the twenty-four prisoners were all subjected to the amputation of their antennæ. the one operated on the day before was put aside as dying or nearly so. finally the door of the prison was left open for the rest of the day. those might leave who could; those could join in the carnival who were able. in order to put those that might leave the room to the test of a search, the cage, which they must otherwise have encountered at the threshold, was again removed, and placed in a room of the opposite wing, on the ground floor. there was of course free access to this room. of the twenty-four lacking their antennæ sixteen only left the room. eight were powerless to do so; they were dying. of the sixteen, how many returned to the cage that night? not one. my captives that night were only seven, all new-comers, all wearing antennæ. this result seemed to prove that the amputation of the antennæ was a matter of serious significance. but it would not do to conclude as yet: one doubt remained. "a fine state i am in! how shall i dare to appear before the other dogs?" said mouflard, the puppy whose ears had been pitilessly docked. had my butterflies apprehensions similar to master mouflard's? deprived of their beautiful plumes, were they ashamed to appear in the midst of their rivals, and to prefer their suits? was it confusion on their part, or want of guidance? was it not rather exhaustion after an attempt exceeding the duration of an ephemeral passion? experience would show me. on the fourth night i took fourteen new-comers and set them apart as they came in a room in which they spent the night. on the morrow, profiting by their diurnal immobility, i removed a little of the hair from the centre of the corselet or neck. this slight tonsure did not inconvenience the insects, so easily was the silky fur removed, nor did it deprive them of any organ which might later on be necessary in the search for the female. to them it was nothing; for me it was the unmistakable sign of a repeated visit. this time there were none incapable of flight. at night the fourteen shavelings escaped into the open air. the cage, of course, was again in a new place. in two hours i captured twenty butterflies, of whom two were tonsured; no more. as for those whose antennæ i had amputated the night before, not one reappeared. their nuptial period was over. of fourteen marked by the tonsure two only returned. why did the other twelve fail to appear, although furnished with their supposed guides, their antennæ? to this i can see only one reply: that the great peacock is promptly exhausted by the ardours of the mating season. with a view to mating, the sole end of its life, the great moth is endowed with a marvellous prerogative. it has the power to discover the object of its desire in spite of distance, in spite of obstacles. a few hours, for two or three nights, are given to its search, its nuptial flights. if it cannot profit by them, all is ended; the compass fails, the lamp expires. what profit could life hold henceforth? stoically the creature withdraws into a corner and sleeps the last sleep, the end of illusions and the end of suffering. the great peacock exists as a butterfly only to perpetuate itself. it knows nothing of food. while so many others, joyful banqueters, fly from flower to flower, unrolling their spiral trunks to plunge them into honeyed blossoms, this incomparable ascetic, completely freed from the servitude of the stomach, has no means of restoring its strength. its buccal members are mere vestiges, useless simulacra, not real organs able to perform their duties. not a sip of honey can ever enter its stomach; a magnificent prerogative, if it is not long enjoyed. if the lamp is to burn it must be filled with oil. the great peacock renounces the joys of the palate; but with them it surrenders long life. two or three nights--just long enough to allow the couple to meet and mate--and all is over; the great butterfly is dead. what, then, is meant by the non-appearance of those whose antennæ i removed? did they prove that the lack of antennæ rendered them incapable of finding the cage in which the prisoner waited? by no means. like those marked with the tonsure, which had undergone no damaging operation, they proved only that their time was finished. mutilated or intact, they could do no more on account of age, and their absence meant nothing. owing to the delay inseparable from the experiment, the part played by the antennæ escaped me. it was doubtful before; it remained doubtful. my prisoner under the wire-gauze cover lived for eight days. every night she attracted a swarm of visitors, now to one part of the house, now to another. i caught them with the net and released them as soon as captured in a closed room, where they passed the night. on the next day they were marked, by means of a slight tonsure on the thorax. the total number of butterflies attracted on these eight nights amounted to a hundred and fifty; a stupendous number when i consider what searches i had to undertake during the two following years in order to collect the specimens necessary to the continuation of my investigation. without being absolutely undiscoverable, in my immediate neighbourhood the cocoons of the great peacock are at least extremely rare, as the trees on which they are found are not common. for two winters i visited all the decrepit almond-trees at hand, inspected them all at the base of the trunk, under the jungle of stubborn grasses and undergrowth that surrounded them; and how often i returned with empty hands! thus my hundred and fifty butterflies had come from some little distance; perhaps from a radius of a mile and a quarter or more. how did they learn of what was happening in my study? three agents of information affect the senses at a distance: sight, sound, and smell. can we speak of vision in this connection? sight could very well guide the arrivals once they had entered the open window; but how could it help them out of doors, among unfamiliar surroundings? even the fabulous eye of the lynx, which could see through walls, would not be sufficient; we should have to imagine a keenness of vision capable of annihilating leagues of space. it is needless to discuss the matter further; sight cannot be the guiding sense. sound is equally out of the question. the big-bodied creature capable of calling her mates from such a distance is absolutely mute, even to the most sensitive ear. does she perhaps emit vibrations of such delicacy or rapidity that only the most sensitive microphone could appreciate them? the idea is barely possible; but let us remember that the visitors must have been warned at distances of some thousands of yards. under these conditions it is useless to think of acoustics. smell remains. scent, better than any other impression in the domain of our senses, would explain the invasion of butterflies, and their difficulty at the very last in immediately finding the object of their search. are there effluvia analogous to what we call odour: effluvia of extreme subtlety, absolutely imperceptible to us, yet capable of stimulating a sense-organ far more sensitive than our own? a simple experiment suggested itself. i would mask these effluvia, stifle them under a powerful, tenacious odour, which would take complete possession of the sense-organ and neutralise the less powerful impression. i began by sprinkling naphthaline in the room intended for the reception of the males that evening. beside the female, inside the wire-gauze cover, i placed a large capsule full of the same substance. when the hour of the nocturnal visit arrived i had only to stand at the door of the room to smell a smell as of a gas-works. well, my artifice failed. the butterflies arrived as usual, entered the room, traversed its gas-laden atmosphere, and made for the wire-gauze cover with the same certainty as in a room full of fresh air. my confidence in the olfactory theory was shaken. moreover, i could not continue my experiments. on the ninth day, exhausted by her fruitless period of waiting, the female died, having first deposited her barren eggs upon the woven wire of her cage. lacking a female, nothing could be done until the following year. i determined next time to take suitable precautions and to make all preparations for repeating at will the experiments already made and others which i had in mind. i set to work at once, without delay. in the summer i began to buy caterpillars at a halfpenny apiece. the market was in the hands of some neighbouring urchins, my habitual providers. on friday, free of the terrors of grammar, they scoured the fields, finding from time to time the great peacock caterpillar, and bringing it to me clinging to the end of a stick. they did not dare to touch it, poor little imps! they were thunderstruck at my audacity when i seized it in my fingers as they would the familiar silkworm. reared upon twigs of the almond-tree, my menagerie soon provided me with magnificent cocoons. in winter assiduous search at the base of the native trees completed my collection. friends interested in my researches came to my aid. finally, after some trouble, what with an open market, commercial negotiations, and searching, at the cost of many scratches, in the undergrowth, i became the owner of an assortment of cocoons of which twelve, larger and heavier than the rest, announced that they were those of females. disappointment awaited me. may arrived; a capricious month which set my preparations at naught, troublesome as these had been. winter returned. the _mistral_ shrieked, tore the budding leaves of the plane-trees, and scattered them over the ground. it was cold as december. we had to light fires in the evening, and resume the heavy clothes we had begun to leave off. my butterflies were too sorely tried. they emerged late and were torpid. around my cages, in which the females waited--to-day one, to-morrow another, according to the order of their birth--few males or none came from without. yet there were some in the neighbourhood, for those with large antennæ which issued from my collection of cocoons were placed in the garden directly they had emerged, and were recognised. whether neighbours or strangers, very few came, and those without enthusiasm. for a moment they entered, then disappeared and did not reappear. the lovers were as cold as the season. perhaps, too, the low temperature was unfavourable to the informing effluvia, which might well be increased by heat and lessened by cold as is the case with many odours. my year was lost. research is disappointing work when the experimenter is the slave of the return and the caprices of a brief season of the year. for the third time i began again. i reared caterpillars; i scoured the country in search of cocoons. when may returned i was tolerably provided. the season was fine, responding to my hopes. i foresaw the affluence of butterflies which had so impressed me at the outset, when the famous invasion occurred which was the origin of my experiments. every night, by squadrons of twelve, twenty, or more, the visitors appeared. the female, a strapping, big-bellied matron, clung to the woven wire of the cover. there was no movement on her part; not even a flutter of the wings. one would have thought her indifferent to all that occurred. no odour was emitted that was perceptible to the most sensitive nostrils of the household; no sound that the keenest ears of the household could perceive. motionless, recollected, she waited. the males, by twos, by threes and more, fluttered upon the dome of the cover, scouring over it quickly in all directions, beating it continually with the ends of their wings. there were no conflicts between rivals. each did his best to penetrate the enclosure, without betraying any sign of jealousy of the others. tiring of their fruitless attempts, they would fly away and join the dance of the gyrating crowd. some, in despair, would escape by the open window: new-comers would replace them: and until ten o'clock or thereabouts the wire dome of the cover would be the scene of continual attempts at approach, incessantly commencing, quickly wearying, quickly resumed. every night the position of the cage was changed. i placed it north of the house and south; on the ground-floor and the first floor; in the right wing of the house, or fifty yards away in the left wing; in the open air, or hidden in some distant room. all these sudden removals, devised to put the seekers off the scent, troubled them not at all. my time and my pains were wasted, so far as deceiving them was concerned. the memory of places has no part in the finding of the female. for instance, the day before the cage was installed in a certain room. the males visited the room and fluttered about the cage for a couple of hours, and some even passed the night there. on the following day, at sunset, when i moved the cage, all were out of doors. although their lives are so ephemeral, the youngest were ready to resume their nocturnal expeditions a second and even a third time. where did they first go, these veterans of a day? they knew precisely where the cage had been the night before. one would have expected them to return to it, guided by memory; and that not finding it they would go out to continue their search elsewhere. no; contrary to my expectation, nothing of the kind appeared. none came to the spot which had been so crowded the night before; none paid even a passing visit. the room was recognised as an empty room, with no previous examination, such as would apparently be necessary to contradict the memory of the place. a more positive guide than memory called them elsewhere. hitherto the female was always visible, behind the meshes of the wire-gauze cover. the visitors, seeing plainly in the dark night, must have been able to see her by the vague luminosity of what for us is the dark. what would happen if i imprisoned her in an opaque receptacle? would not such a receptacle arrest or set free the informing effluvia according to its nature? practical physics has given us wireless telegraphy by means of the hertzian vibrations of the ether. had the great peacock butterfly outstripped and anticipated mankind in this direction? in order to disturb the whole surrounding neighbourhood, to warn pretenders at a distance of a mile or more, does the newly emerged female make use of electric or magnetic waves, known or unknown, that a screen of one material would arrest while another would allow them to pass? in a word, does she, after her fashion, employ a system of wireless telegraphy? i see nothing impossible in this; insects are responsible for many inventions equally marvellous. accordingly i lodged the female in boxes of various materials; boxes of tin-plate, wood, and cardboard. all were hermetically closed, even sealed with a greasy paste. i also used a glass bell resting upon a base-plate of glass. under these conditions not a male arrived; not one, though the warmth and quiet of the evening were propitious. whatever its nature, whether of glass, metal, card, or wood, the closed receptacle was evidently an insuperable obstacle to the warning effluvia. a layer of cotton-wool two fingers in thickness had the same result. i placed the female in a large glass jar, and laced a piece of thin cotton batting over the mouth for a cover; this again guarded the secret of my laboratory. not a male appeared. but when i placed the females in boxes which were imperfectly closed, or which had chinks in their sides, or even hid them in a drawer or a cupboard, i found the males arrived in numbers as great as when the object of their search lay in the cage of open wire-work freely exposed on a table. i have a vivid memory of one evening when the recluse was hidden in a hat-box at the bottom of a wall-cupboard. the arrivals went straight to the closed doors, and beat them with their wings, _toc-toc_, trying to enter. wandering pilgrims, come from i know not where, across fields and meadows, they knew perfectly what was behind the doors of the cupboard. so we must abandon the idea that the butterfly has any means of communication comparable to our wireless telegraphy, as any kind of screen, whether a good or a bad conductor, completely stops the signals of the female. to give them free passage and allow them to penetrate to a distance one condition is indispensable: the enclosure in which the captive is confined must not be hermetically sealed; there must be a communication between it and the outer air. this again points to the probability of an odour, although this is contradicted by my experiment with the naphthaline. my cocoons were all hatched, and the problem was still obscure. should i begin all over again in the fourth year? i did not do so, for the reason that it is difficult to observe a nocturnal butterfly if one wishes to follow it in all its intimate actions. the lover needs no light to attain his ends; but my imperfect human vision cannot penetrate the darkness. i should require a candle at least, and a candle would be constantly extinguished by the revolving swarm. a lantern would obviate these eclipses, but its doubtful light, interspersed with heavy shadows, by no means commends it to the scruples of an observer, who must see, and see well. moreover, the light of a lamp diverts the butterflies from their object, distracts them from their affairs, and seriously compromises the success of the observer. the moment they enter, they rush frantically at the flame, singe their down, and thereupon, terrified by the heat, are of no profit to the observer. if, instead of being roasted, they are held at a distance by an envelope of glass, they press as closely as they can to the flame, and remain motionless, hypnotised. [illustration: the great peacock moth. the pilgrims diverted by the light of a lamp.] one night, the female being in the dining-room, on the table, facing the open window, a petroleum lamp, furnished with a large reflector in opaline glass, was hanging from the ceiling. the arrivals alighted on the dome of the wire-gauze cover, crowding eagerly about the prisoner; others, saluting her in passing, flew to the lamp, circled round it a few times, and then, fascinated by the luminous splendour radiating from the opal cone of light, clung there motionless under the reflector. already the children were raising their hands to seize them. "leave them," i said, "leave them. let us be hospitable: do not disturb the pilgrims who have come to the tabernacle of the light." during the whole evening not one of them moved. next day they were still there. the intoxication of the light had made them forget the intoxication of love. with creatures so madly in love with the light precise and prolonged experimentation is impracticable the moment the observer requires artificial light. i renounced the great peacock and its nocturnal habits. i required a butterfly with different habits; equally notable as a lover, but seeking out the beloved by day. before going on to speak of my experiments with a subject fulfilling these conditions, let me break the chronological order of my record in order to say a few words concerning another insect, which appeared after i had completed these inquiries. i refer to the lesser peacock (_attacus pavonia minor_, lin.). some one brought me, from what locality i do not know, a superb cocoon enveloped in an ample wrapping of white silk. from this covering, which lay in large irregular folds, the chrysalis was easily detached; in shape like that of the great peacock, but considerably less in size. the anterior extremity, which is defended by an arrangement of fine twigs, converging, and free at the converging ends, forming a device not unlike an eel-pot, which presents access to the chrysalis while allowing the butterfly to emerge without breaking the defence, indicated a relative of the great nocturnal butterfly; the silk-work denoted a spinning caterpillar. towards the end of march this curious cocoon yielded up a female of the lesser peacock, which was immediately sequestered under a wire-gauze cover in my study. i opened the window to allow news of the event to reach the surrounding country, and left it open so that such visitors as presented themselves should find free access to the cage. the captive clung to the wire gauze and did not move for a week. she was a superb creature, this prisoner of mine, with her suit of brown velvet, crossed by undulating lines. the neck was surrounded by white fur; there was a carmine spot at the extremity of the upper wings, and four great eyes in which were grouped, in concentric crescents, black, white, red, and yellow ochre: almost the colouring of the great peacock, but more vivid. three or four times in my life i had encountered this butterfly, so remarkable for its size and its costume. the cocoon i had recently seen for the first time; the male i had never seen. i only knew that, according to the books, it was half the size of the female, and less vividly coloured, with orange-yellow on the lower wings. would he appear, the elegant unknown, with waving plumes; the butterfly i had never yet seen, so rare does the lesser peacock seem to be in our country? would he, in some distant hedge, receive warning of the bride who waited on my study table? i dared to hope it, and i was right. he arrived even sooner than i had hoped. noon struck as we were sitting down to table, when little paul, delayed by his absorption in the expected event, suddenly ran to rejoin us, his cheeks glowing. between his fingers we saw the fluttering wings of a handsome butterfly, caught but a moment before, while it was hovering in front of my study. he showed it me, questioning me with his eyes. "aha!" i cried, "this is precisely the pilgrim we are waiting for. fold your napkin and come and see what happens. we will dine later." dinner was forgotten before the marvels that came to pass. with inconceivable punctuality the butterflies hastened to meet the magical call of the captive. with tortuous flight they arrived one by one. all came from the north. this detail is significant. a week earlier there had been a savage return of the winter. the _bise_ blew tempestuously, killing the early almond blossom. it was one of those ferocious storms which in the south commonly serve as a prelude to the spring. but the temperature had now suddenly softened, although the wind still blew from the north. now on this first occasion all the butterflies hastening to the prisoner entered the garden from the north. they followed the direction of the wind; not one flew against it. if their guide was a sense of smell like ours, if they were guided by fragrant atoms suspended in the air, they should have arrived in the opposite direction. coming from the south, we might believe them to be warned by effluvia carried on the wind; coming from the north in time of _mistral_, that resistless sweeper of earth and air, how can we suppose that they had perceived, at a remote distance, what we will call an odour? the idea of a flow of odoriferous atoms in a direction contrary to that of the aerial torrent seems to me inadmissible. for two hours, under a radiant sun, the visitors came and went before the outer wall of the study. most of them sought for a long time, exploring the wall, flying on a level with the ground. to see them thus hesitating you would say that they were puzzled to find the exact position of the lure which called them. although they had come from such a distance without a mistake, they seemed imperfectly informed once they were on the spot. nevertheless, sooner or later they entered the room and saluted the captive, without showing any great ardour. at two o'clock all was over. ten butterflies had arrived. during the whole week, and always about noon, at the hour of the brightest sunlight, the butterflies arrived, but in decreasing numbers. the total approached forty. i thought it useless to repeat experiments which would add nothing to what i had already learned. i will confine myself to stating two facts. in the first place, the lesser peacock is diurnal; that is to say, it celebrates its mating under the dazzling brilliance of noon. it needs the full force of the sunlight. the great peacock, on the contrary, which it so closely resembles both in its adult form and the work of its caterpillar, requires the darkness of the first hours of the night. who can explain this strange contrast in habits? in the second place, a powerful current of air, sweeping away in a contrary direction all particles that might inform the sense of smell, does not prevent the butterflies from arriving from a direction opposite to that taken by the effluvial stream, as we understand such matters. to continue: i needed a diurnal moth or butterfly: not the lesser peacock, which came too late, when i had nothing to ask of it, but another, no matter what, provided it was a prompt guest at the wedding feast. was i to find such an insect? chapter xv the oak eggar, or banded monk yes: i was to find it. i even had it already in my possession. an urchin of seven years, with an alert countenance, not washed every day, bare feet, and dilapidated breeches supported by a piece of string, who frequented the house as a dealer in turnips and tomatoes, arrived one day with his basket of vegetables. having received the few halfpence expected by his mother as the price of the garden-stuff, and having counted them one by one into the hollow of his hand, he took from his pocket an object which he had discovered the day before beneath a hedge when gathering greenstuff for his rabbits. "and this--will you have this?" he said, handing me the object. "why, certainly i will have it. try to find me more, as many as you can, and on sunday you shall have lots of rides on the wooden horses. in the meantime here is a penny for you. don't forget it when you make up your accounts; don't mix it with your turnip-money; put it by itself." beaming with satisfaction at such wealth, little touzle-head promised to search industriously, already foreseeing a fortune. when he had gone i examined the thing. it was worth examination. it was a fine cocoon, thick and with blunt ends, very like a silkworm's cocoon, firm to the touch and of a tawny colour. a brief reference to the text-books almost convinced me that this was a cocoon of the _bombyx quercus_.[4] if so, what a find! i could continue my inquiry and perhaps confirm what my study of the great peacock had made me suspect. the bombyx of the oak-tree is, in fact, a classic moth; indeed, there is no entomological text-book but speaks of its exploits at mating-time. it is said that a female emerged from the pupa in captivity, in the interior of an apartment, and even in a closed box. it was far from the country, amidst the tumult of a large city. nevertheless, the event was known to those concerned in the woods and meadows. guided by some mysterious compass, the males arrived, hastening from the distant fields; they went to the box, fluttered against it, and flew to and fro in the room. these marvels i had learned by reading; but to see such a thing with one's own eyes, and at the same time to devise experiments, is quite another thing. what had my penny bargain in store for me? would the famous bombyx issue from it? let us call it by its other name, the banded monk. this original name of monk was suggested by the costume of the male; a monk's robe of a modest rusty red. but in the case of the female the brown fustian gives place to a beautiful velvet, with a pale transversal band and little white eyes on the fore pair of wings. the monk is not a common butterfly which can be caught by any one who takes out a net at the proper season. i have never seen it around our village or in the solitude of my grounds during a residence of twenty years. it is true that i am not a fervent butterfly-catcher; the dead insect of the collector's cabinet has little interest for me; i must have it living, in the exercise of its functions. but although i have not the collector's zeal i have an attentive eye to all that flies or crawls in the fields. a butterfly so remarkable for its size and colouring would never have escaped my notice had i encountered it. the little searcher whom i had enticed by a promise of rides upon wooden horses never made a second find. for three years i requisitioned friends and neighbours, and especially their children, sharp-sighted snappers-up of trifles; i myself hunted often under heaps of withered leaves; i inspected stone-heaps and visited hollow tree-trunks. useless pains; the precious cocoon was not to be found. it is enough to say that the banded monk is extremely rare in my neighbourhood. the importance of this fact will presently appear. as i suspected, my cocoon was truly that of the celebrated oak eggar. on the 20th of august a female emerged from it: corpulent, big-bellied, coloured like the male, but lighter in hue. i placed her under the usual wire cover in the centre of my laboratory table, littered as it was with books, bottles, trays, boxes, test-tubes, and other apparatus. i have explained the situation in speaking of the great peacock. two windows light the room, both opening on the garden. one was closed, the other open day and night. the butterfly was placed in the shade, between the lines of the two windows, at a distance of 12 or 15 feet. the rest of that day and the next went by without any occurrence worthy of notice. hanging by the feet to the front of the wire cover, on the side nearest to the light, the prisoner was motionless, inert. there was no oscillation of the wings, no tremor of the antennæ, the female of the great peacock behaved in a similar fashion. the female bombyx gradually matured, her tender tissues gradually becoming firmer. by some process of which our scientists have not the least idea she elaborated a mysterious lure which would bring her lovers from the four corners of the sky. what was happening in this big-bellied body; what transmutations were accomplished, thus to affect the whole countryside? on the third day the bride was ready. the festival opened brilliantly. i was in the garden, already despairing of success, for the days were passing and nothing had occurred, when towards three in the afternoon, the weather being very hot and the sun radiant, i perceived a crowd of butterflies gyrating in the embrasure of the open window. the lovers had at last come to visit their lady. some were emerging from the room, others were entering it; others, clinging to the wall of the house, were resting as though exhausted by a long journey. i could see others approaching in the distance, flying over the walls, over the screens of cypress. they came from all directions, but at last with decreasing frequency. i had missed the opening of the convocation, and now the gathering was almost complete. i went indoors and upstairs. this time, in full daylight and without losing a detail, i witnessed once more the astonishing spectacle to which the great nocturnal butterfly had first introduced me. the study contained a cloud of males, which i estimated, at a glance, as being about sixty in number, so far as the movement and confusion allowed me to count them at all. after circling a few times over the cage many of them went to the open window, but returned immediately to recommence their evolutions. the most eager alighted on the cover, trampling on one another, jostling one another, trying to get the best places. on the other side of the barrier the captive, her great body hanging against the wire, waited immovable. she betrayed not a sign of emotion in the face of this turbulent swarm. going and entering, perched on the cover or fluttering round the room, for more than three hours they continued their frenzied saraband. but the sun was sinking, and the temperature was slowly falling. the ardour of the butterflies also cooled. many went out not to return. others took up their positions to wait for the gaieties of the following day; they clung to the cross-bars of the closed window as the males of the great peacock had done. the rejoicings were over for the day. they would certainly be renewed on the morrow, since the courtship was without result on account of the barrier of the wire-gauze cover. but, alas i to my great disappointment, they were not resumed, and the fault was mine. late in the day a praying mantis was brought to me, which merited attention on account of its exceptionally small size. preoccupied with the events of the afternoon, and absent-minded, i hastily placed the predatory insect under the same cover as the moth. it did not occur to me for a moment that this cohabitation could lead to any harm. the mantis was so slender, and the other so corpulent! alas! i little knew the fury of carnage animating the creature that wielded those tiny grappling-irons! next morning i met with a disagreeable surprise: i found the little mantis devouring the great moth. the head and the fore part of the thorax had already disappeared. horrible creature! at what an evil hour you came to me! goodbye to my researches, the plans which i had caressed all night in my imagination! for three years for lack of a subject, i was unable to resume them. bad luck, however, was not to make me forget the little i had learned. on one single occasion about sixty males had arrived. considering the rarity of the oak eggar, and remembering the years of fruitless search on the part of my helpers and myself, this number was no less than stupefying. the undiscoverable had suddenly become multitudinous at the call of the female. whence did they come? from all sides, and undoubtedly from considerable distances. during my prolonged searches every bush and thicket and heap of stones in my neighbourhood had become familiar to me, and i can assert that the oak eggar was not to be found there. for such a swarm to collect as i found in my laboratory the moths must have come from all directions, from the whole district, and within a radius that i dare not guess at. three years went by and by chance two more cocoons of the monk or oak eggar again fell into my hands. both produced females, at an interval of a few days towards the middle of august; so that i was able to vary and repeat my experiments. i rapidly repeated the experiments which had given me such positive results in the instance of the great peacock moth. the pilgrims of the day were no less skilful at finding their mates than the pilgrims of the night. they laughed at all my tricks. infallibly they found the prisoners in their wire-gauze prisons, no matter in what part of the house they were placed; they discovered them in the depths of a wall-cupboard; they divined the secret of all manner of boxes, provided these were not rigorously air-tight. they came no longer when the box was hermetically sealed. so far this was only a repetition of the feats of the great peacock. a box perfectly closed, so that the air contained therein had no communication with the external atmosphere, left the male in complete ignorance of the recluse. not a single one arrived, even when the box was exposed and plain to see on the window-sill. thus the idea of strongly scented effluvia, which are cut off by screens of wood, metal, card, glass, or what not, returns with double force. i have shown that the great nocturnal moth was not thrown off the scent by the powerful odour of naphthaline, which i thought would mask the extra-subtle emanations of the female, which were imperceptible to human olfactory organs. i repeated the experiment with the oak eggar. this time i used all the resources of scent and stench that my knowledge of drugs would permit. a dozen saucers were arranged, some in the interior of the wire-gauze cover, the prison of the female, and some around it, in an unbroken circle. some contained naphthaline; others the essential oil of spike-lavender; others petroleum, and others a solution of alkaline sulphur giving off a stench of rotten eggs. short of asphyxiating the prisoner i could do no more. these arrangements were made in the morning, so that the room should be saturated when the congregation of lovers should arrive. in the afternoon the laboratory was filled with the most abominable stench, in which the penetrating aroma of spike-lavender and the stink of sulphuretted hydrogen were predominant. i must add that tobacco was habitually smoked in this room, and in abundance. the concerted odours of a gas-works, a smoking-room, a perfumery, a petroleum well, and a chemical factory--would they succeed in confusing the male moths? by no means. about three o'clock the moths arrived in as great numbers as usual. they went straight to the cage, which i had covered with a thick cloth in order to add to their difficulties. seeing nothing when once they had entered, and immersed in an extraordinary atmosphere in which any subtle fragrance should have been annihilated, they nevertheless made straight for the prisoner, and attempted to reach her by burrowing under the linen cloth. my artifice had no result. after this set-back, so obvious in its consequences, which only repeated the lesson of the experiments made with naphthaline when my subject was the great peacock, i ought logically to have abandoned the theory that the moths are guided to their wedding festivities by means of strongly scented effluvia. that i did not do so was due to a fortuitous observation. chance often has a surprise in store which sets us on the right road when we have been seeking it in vain. one afternoon, while trying to determine whether sight plays any part in the search for the female once the males had entered the room, i placed the female in a bell-glass and gave her a slender twig of oak with withered leaves as a support. the glass was set upon a table facing the open window. upon entering the room the moths could not fail to see the prisoner, as she stood directly in the way. the tray, containing a layer of sand, on which the female had passed the preceding day and night, covered with a wire-gauze dish-cover, was in my way. without premeditation i placed it at the other end of the room on the floor, in a corner where there was but little light. it was a dozen yards away from the window. the result of these preparations entirely upset my preconceived ideas. none of the arrivals stopped at the bell-glass, where the female was plainly to be seen, the light falling full upon her prison. not a glance, not an inquiry. they all flew to the further end of the room, into the dark corner where i had placed the tray and the empty dish-cover. they alighted on the wire dome, explored it persistently, beating their wings and jostling one another. all the afternoon, until sunset, the moths danced about the empty cage the same saraband that the actual presence of the female had previously evoked. finally they departed: not all, for there were some that would not go, held by some magical attractive force. truly a strange result! the moths collected where there was apparently nothing to attract them, and remained there, unpersuaded by the sense of sight; they passed the bell-glass actually containing the female without halting for a moment, although she must have been seen by many of the moths both going and coming. maddened by a lure, they paid no attention to the reality. what was the lure that so deceived them? all the preceding night and all the morning the female had remained under the wire-gauze cover; sometimes clinging to the wire-work, sometimes resting on the sand in the tray. whatever she touched--above all, apparently, with her distended abdomen--was impregnated, as a result of long contact, with a certain emanation. this was her lure, her love-philtre; this it was that revolutionised the oak eggar world. the sand retained it for some time and diffused the effluvium in turn. they passed by the glass prison in which the female was then confined and hastened to the meshes of wire and the sand on which the magic philtre had been poured; they crowded round the deserted chamber where nothing of the magician remained but the odorous testimony of her sojourn. the irresistible philtre requires time for its elaboration. i conceive of it as an exhalation which is given off during courtship and gradually saturates whatever is in contact with the motionless body of the female. if the bell-glass was placed directly on the table, or, still better, on a square of glass, the communication between the inside and the outside was insufficient, and the males, perceiving no odour, did not arrive so long as that condition of things obtained. it was plain that this failure of transmission was not due to the action of the glass as a screen simply, for if i established a free communication between the interior of the bell-glass and the open air by supporting it on three small blocks, the moths did not collect round it at once, although there were plenty in the room; but in the course of half an hour or so the feminine alembic began to operate, and the visitors crowded round the bell-glass as usual. in possession of these data and this unexpected enlightenment i varied the experiments, but all pointed to the same conclusion. in the morning i established the female under the usual wire-gauze cover. for support i gave her a little twig of oak as before. there, motionless as if dead, she crouched for hours, half buried in the dry leaves, which would thus become impregnated with her emanations. when the hour of the daily visits drew near i removed the twig, which was by then thoroughly saturated with the emanations, and laid it on a chair not far from the open window. on the other hand i left the female under the cover, plainly exposed on the table in the middle of the room. the moths arrived as usual: first one, then two, then three, and presently five and six. they entered, flew out again, re-entered, mounted, descended, came and went, always in the neighbourhood of the window, not far from which was the chair on which the twig lay. none made for the large table, on which, a few steps further from the window, the female awaited them in the wire-gauze cover. they hesitated, that was plain; they were still seeking. finally they found. and what did they find? simply the twig, which that morning had served the ample matron as bed. their wings rapidly fluttering, they alighted on the foliage; they explored it over and under, probed it, raised it, and displaced it so that the twig finally fell to the floor. none the less they continued to probe between the leaves. under the buffets and the draught of their wings and the clutches of their eager feet the little bundle of leaves ran along the floor like a scrap of paper patted by the paws of a cat. while the twig was sliding away with its band of investigators two new arrivals appeared. the chair lay in their path. they stopped at it and searched eagerly at the very spot on which the twig had been lying. but with these, as with the others, the real object of their desires was there, close by, under a wire cover which was not even veiled. none took any note of it. on the floor, a handful of butterflies were still hustling the bunch of leaves on which the female had reposed that morning; others, on the chair, were still examining the spot where the twig had lain. the sun sank, and the hour of departure struck. moreover, the emanations were growing feebler, were evaporating. without more ado the visitors left. we bade them goodbye till the morrow. the following tests showed me that the leaf-covered twig which accidentally enlightened me might be replaced by any other substance. some time before the visitors were expected i placed the female on a bed of cloth or flannel, card or paper. i even subjected her to the rigours of a camp-bed of wood, glass, marble, and metal. all these objects, after a contact of sufficient duration, had the same attraction for the males as the female moth herself. they retained this property for a longer or shorter time, according to their nature. cardboard, flannel, dust, sand, and porous objects retained it longest. metals, marble, and glass, on the contrary, quickly lost their efficacy. finally, anything on which the female had rested communicated its virtues by contact; witness the butterflies crowding on the straw-bottomed chair after the twig fell to the ground. using one of the most favourable materials--flannel, for example--i witnessed a curious sight. i placed a morsel of flannel on which the mother moth had been lying all the morning at the bottom of a long test-tube or narrow-necked bottle, just permitting of the passage of a male moth. the visitors entered the vessels, struggled, and did not know how to extricate themselves. i had devised a trap by means of which i could exterminate the tribe. delivering the prisoners, and removing the flannel, which i placed in a perfectly closed box, i found that they re-entered the trap; attracted by the effluvia that the flannel had communicated to the glass. i was now convinced. to call the moths of the countryside to the wedding-feast, to warn them at a distance and to guide them the nubile female emits an odour of extreme subtlety, imperceptible to our own olfactory sense-organs. even with their noses touching the moth, none of my household has been able to perceive the faintest odour; not even the youngest, whose sensibility is as yet unvitiated. this scent readily impregnates any object on which the female rests for any length of time, when this object becomes a centre of attraction as active as the moth herself until the effluvium is evaporated. nothing visible betrays the lure. on a sheet of paper, a recent resting-place, around which the visitors had crowded, there was no visible trace, no moisture; the surface was as clean as before the impregnation. the product is elaborated slowly, and must accumulate a little before it reveals its full power. taken from her couch and placed elsewhere the female loses her attractiveness for the moment and is an object of indifference; it is to the resting-place, saturated by long contact, that the arrivals fly. but the female soon regains her power. the emission of the warning effluvium is more or less delayed according to the species. the recently metamorphosed female must mature a little and her organs must settle to their work. born in the morning, the female of the great peacock moth sometimes has visitors the night of the same day; but more often on the second day, after a preparation of forty hours or so. the oak eggar does not publish her banns of marriage before the third or fourth day. let us return for a moment to the problematical function of the antennæ. the male oak eggar has a sumptuous pair, as has the great peacock or emperor moth. are we to regard these silky "feelers" as a kind of directing compass?--i resumed, but without attaching much importance to the matter, my previous experiment of amputation. none of those operated on returned. do not let us draw conclusions from that fact alone. we saw in the case of the great peacock that more serious reasons than the truncation of the antennæ made return as a rule impossible. moreover, a second bombyx or eggar, the clover moth, very like the oak eggar, and like it superbly plumed, poses us a very difficult problem. it is fairly abundant around my home; even in the orchard i find its cocoon, which is easily confounded with that of the oak eggar. i was at first deceived by the resemblance. from six cocoons, which i expected to yield oak eggars, i obtained, about the end of august, six females of the other species. well: about these six females, born in my house, never a male appeared, although they were undoubtedly present in the neighbourhood. if the ample and feathery antennæ are truly sense-organs, which receive information of distant objects, why were not my richly plumed neighbours aware of what was passing in my study? why did their feathery "feelers" leave them in ignorance of events which would have brought flocks of the other eggar? once more, the organ does not determine the aptitude. one individual or species is gifted, but another is not, despite an organic equality. chapter xvi a truffle-hunter: the _bolboceras gallicus_ in the matter of physics we hear of nothing to-day but the röntgen rays, which penetrate opaque bodies and photograph the invisible. a splendid discovery; but nothing very remarkable as compared with the surprises reserved for us by the future, when, better instructed as to the why and wherefore of things than now, and supplementing our feeble senses by means of science, we shall succeed in rivalling, however imperfectly, the sensorial acuteness of the lower animals. how enviable, in how many cases, is the superiority of the beasts! it makes us realise the insufficiency of our impressions, and the very indifferent efficacy of our sense-organs; it proclaims realities which amaze us, so far are they beyond our own attributes. a miserable caterpillar, the processional caterpillar, found on the pine-tree, has its back covered with meteorological spiracles which sense the coming weather and foretell the storm; the bird of prey, that incomparable watchman, sees the fallen mule from the heights of the clouds; the blind bats guided their flight without collision through the inextricable labyrinth of threads devised by spallanzani; the carrier pigeon, at a hundred leagues from home, infallibly regains its loft across immensities which it has never known; and within the limits of its more modest powers a bee, the chalicodoma, also adventures into the unknown, accomplishing its long journey and returning to its group of cells. those who have never seen a dog seeking truffles have missed one of the finest achievements of the olfactory sense. absorbed in his duties, the animal goes forward, scenting the wind, at a moderate pace. he stops, questions the soil with his nostrils, and, without excitement, scratches the earth a few times with one paw. "there it is, master!" his eyes seem to say: "there it is! on the faith of a dog, there are truffles here!" he says truly. the master digs at the point indicated. if the spade goes astray the dog corrects the digger, sniffing at the bottom of the hole. have no fear that stones and roots will confuse him; in spite of depth and obstacles, the truffle will be found. a dog's nose cannot lie. i have referred to the dog's speciality as a subtle sense of smell. that is certainly what i mean, if you will understand by that that the nasal passages of the animal are the seat of the perceptive organ; but is the thing perceived always a simple smell in the vulgar acceptation of the term--an effluvium such as our own senses perceive? i have certain reasons for doubting this, which i will proceed to relate. on various occasions i have had the good fortune to accompany a truffle-dog of first-class capacities on his rounds. certainly there was not much outside show about him, this artist that i so desired to see at work; a dog of doubtful breed, placid and meditative; uncouth, ungroomed, and quite inadmissible to the intimacies of the hearthrug. talent and poverty are often mated. his master, a celebrated _rabassier_[5] of the village, being convinced that my object was not to steal his professional secrets, and so sooner or later to set up in business as a competitor, admitted me of his company, a favour of which he was not prodigal. from the moment of his regarding me not as an apprentice, but merely as a curious spectator, who drew and wrote about subterranean vegetable affairs, but had no wish to carry to market my bagful of these glories of the christmas goose, the excellent man lent himself generously to my designs. it was agreed between us that the dog should act according to his own instincts, receiving the customary reward, after each discovery, no matter what its size, of a crust of bread the size of a finger-nail. every spot scratched by his paw should be excavated, and the object indicated was to be extracted without reference to its marketable value. in no case was the experience of the master to intervene in order to divert the dog from a spot where the general aspect of things indicated that no commercial results need be expected, for i was more concerned with the miserable specimens unfit for the market than with the choice specimens, though of course the latter were welcomed. thus conducted, this subterranean botanising was extremely fruitful. with that perspicacious nose of his the dog obtained for me both large and small, fresh and putrid, odorous and inodorous, fragrant and offensive. i was amazed at my collection, which comprised the greater number of the hypogenous fungi of the neighbourhood. what a variety of structure, and above all of odour, the primordial quality in this question of scent! there were some that had no appreciable scent beyond a vague fungoid flavour, more or less common to all. others smelt of turnips, of sour cabbage; some were fetid, sufficiently so to make the house of the collector noisome. only the true truffle possessed the aroma dear to epicures. if odour, as we understand it, is the dog's only guide, how does he manage to follow that guide amidst all these totally different odours? is he warned of the contents of the subsoil by a general emanation, by that fungoid effluvium common to all the species? thus a somewhat embarrassing question arises. i paid special attention to the ordinary toadstools and mushrooms, which announced their near advent by cracking the surface of the soil. now these points, where my eyes divined the cryptogam pushing back the soil with its button-like heads, these points, where the ordinary fungoid odour was certainly very pronounced, were never selected by the dog. he passed them disdainfully, without a sniff, without a stroke of the paw. yet the fungi were underground, and their odour was similar to that i have already referred to. i came back from my outings with the conviction that the truffle-finding nose has some better guide than odour such as we with our sense-organs conceive it. it must perceive effluvia of another order as well; entirely mysterious to us, and therefore not utilised. light has its dark rays--rays without effect upon our retinas, but not apparently on all. why should not the domain of smell have its secret emanations, unknown to our senses and perceptible to a different sense-organ? if the scent of the dog leaves us perplexed in the sense that we cannot possibly say precisely, cannot even suspect what it is that the dog perceives, at least it is clear that it would be erroneous to refer everything to human standards. the world of sensations is far larger than the limits of our own sensibility. what numbers of facts relating to the interplay of natural forces must escape us for want of sufficiently sensitive organs! the unknown--that inexhaustible field in which the men of the future will try their strength--has harvests in store for us beside which our present knowledge would show as no more than a wretched gleaning. under the sickle of science will one day fall the sheaves whose grain would appear to-day as senseless paradoxes. scientific dreams? no, if you please, but undeniable positive realities, affirmed by the brute creation, which in certain respects has so great an advantage over us. despite his long practice of his calling, despite the scent of the object he was seeking, the _rabassier_ could not divine the presence of the truffle, which ripens in winter under the soil, at a depth of a foot or two; he must have the help of a dog or a pig, whose scent is able to discover the secrets of the soil. these secrets are known to various insects even better than to our two auxiliaries. they have in exceptional perfection the power of discovering the tubers on which their larvæ are nourished. from truffles dug up in a spoiled condition, peopled with vermin, and placed in that condition, with a bed of fresh sand, in a glass jar, i have in the past obtained a small red beetle, known as the truffle-beetle (_anisotoma cinnamomea_, panz.), and various diptera, among which is a sapromyzon which, by its sluggish flight and its fragile form, recalls the _scatophaga scybalaria_, the yellow velvety fly which is found in human excrement in the autumn. the latter finds its refuge on the surface of the soil, at the foot of a wall or hedge or under a bush; but how does the former know just where the truffle lies under the soil, or at what depth? to penetrate to that depth, or to seek in the subsoil, is impossible. its fragile limbs, barely able to move a grain of sand, its extended wings, which would bar all progress in a narrow passage, and its costume of bristling silken pile, which would prevent it from slipping through crevices, all make such a task impossible. the sapromyzon is forced to lay its eggs on the surface of the soil, but it does so on the precise spot which overlies the truffle, for the grubs would perish if they had to wander at random in search of their provender, the truffle being always thinly sown. the truffle fly is informed by the sense of smell of the points favourable to its maternal plans; it has the talents of the truffle-dog, and doubtless in a higher degree, for it knows naturally, without having been taught, what its rival only acquires through an artificial education. it would be not uninteresting to follow the sapromyzon in its search in the open woods. such a feat did not strike me as particularly possible; the insect is rare, flies off quickly when alarmed, and is lost to view. to observe it closely under such conditions would mean a loss of time and an assiduity of which i do not feel capable. another truffle-hunter will show us what we could hardly learn from the fly. this is a pretty little black beetle, with a pale, velvety abdomen; a spherical insect, as large as a biggish cherry-stone. its official title is _bolboceras gallicus_, muls. by rubbing the end of the abdomen against the edge of the wing-cases it produces a gentle chirping sound like the cheeping of nestlings when the mother-bird returns to the nest with food. the male wears a graceful horn on his head; a duplicate, in little, of that of the _copris hispanus_. deceived by this horn, i at first took the insect for a member of the corporation of dung-beetles, and as such i reared it in captivity. i offered it the kind of diet most appreciated by its supposed relatives, but never, never would it touch such food. for whom did i take it? fie upon me! to offer ordure to an epicure! it required, if not precisely the truffle known to our _chefs_ and _gourmets_, at least its equivalent. this characteristic i grasped only after patient investigation. at the southern foot of the hills of sérignan, not far from the village, is a wood of maritime pines alternating with rows of cypress. there, towards toussaint, after the autumnal rains, you may find an abundance of the mushrooms or "toadstools" that affect the conifers; especially the delicious lactaris, which turns green if the points are rubbed and drips blood if broken. in the warm days of autumn this is the favourite promenade of the members of my household, being distant enough to exercise their young legs, but near enough not to fatigue them. there one finds and sees all manner of things: old magpies' nests, great bundles of twigs; jays, wrangling after filling their crops with the acorns of the neighbouring oaks; rabbits, whose little white upturned scuts go bobbing away through the rosemary bushes; dung-beetles, which are storing food for the winter and throwing up their rubbish on the threshold of their burrows. and then the fine sand, soft to the touch, easily tunnelled, easily excavated or built into tiny huts which we thatch with moss and surmount with the end of a reed for a chimney; and the delicious meal of apples, and the sound of the æolian harps which softly whisper among the boughs of the pines! for the children it is a real paradise, where they can receive the reward of well-learned lessons. the grown-ups also can share in the enjoyment. as for myself, for long years i have watched two insects which are found there without getting to the bottom of their domestic secrets. one is the _minotaurus typhæus_, whose male carries on his corselet three spines which point forward. the old writers called him the phalangist, on account of his armour, which is comparable to the three ranks of lances of the macedonian phalanx. this is a robust creature, heedless of the winter. all during the cold season, whenever the weather relents a little, it issues discreetly from its lodging, at nightfall, and gathers, in the immediate neighbourhood of its dwelling, a few fragments of sheep-dung and ancient olives which the summer suns have dried. it stacks them in a row at the end of its burrow, closes the door, and consumes them. when the food is broken up and exhausted of its meagre juices it returns to the surface and renews its store. thus the winter passes, famine being unknown unless the weather is exceptionally hard. the second insect which i have observed for so long among the pines is the bolboceras. its burrows, scattered here and there, higgledy-piggledy with those of the minotaur, are easy to recognise. the burrow of the phalangist is surmounted by a voluminous rubbish-dump, the materials of which are piled in the form of a cylinder as long as the finger. each of these dumps is a load of refuse and rubbish pushed outward by the little sapper, which shoulders it up from below. the orifice is closed whenever the insect is at home, enlarging its tunnel or peacefully enjoying the contents of its larder. the lodging of the bolboceras is open and surrounded simply by a mound of sand. its depth is not great; a foot or hardly more. it descends vertically in an easily shifted soil. it is therefore easy to inspect it, if we take care first of all to dig a trench so that the wall of the burrow may be afterwards cut away, slice by slice, with the blade of a knife. the burrow is thus laid bare along its whole extent, from the surface to the bottom, until nothing remains of it but a demi-cylindrical groove. often the violated dwelling is empty. the insect has departed in the night, having finished its business there. it is a nomad, a night-walker, which leaves its dwelling without regret and easily acquires another. often, on the other hand, the insect will be found at the bottom of the burrow; sometimes a male, sometimes a female, but always alone. the two sexes, equally zealous in excavating their burrows, work apart without collaboration. this is no family mansion for the rearing of offspring; it is a temporary dwelling, made by each insect for its own benefit. sometimes the burrow contains nothing but the well-sinker surprised at its work: sometimes--and not rarely--the hermit will be found embracing a small subterranean fungus, entire or partly consumed. it presses it convulsively to its bosom and will not be parted from it. this is the insect's booty: its worldly wealth. scattered crumbs inform us that we have surprised the beetle at a feast. let us deprive the insect of its booty. we find a sort of irregular, rugged, purse-like object, varying in size from the largeness of a pea to that of a cherry. the exterior is reddish, covered with fine warts, having an appearance not unlike shagreen; the interior, which has no communication with the exterior, is smooth and white. the pores, ovoidal and diaphanous, are contained, in groups of eight, in long capsules. from these characteristics we recognise an underground cryptogam, known to the botanists as _hydnocystis arenaria_, and a relation of the truffle. this discovery begins to throw a light on the habits of the bolboceras and the cause of its burrows, so frequently renewed. in the calm of the twilight the little truffle-hunter goes abroad, chirping softly to encourage itself. it explores the soil, and interrogates it as to its contents, exactly as does the truffle-gatherer's dog. the sense of smell warns it that the desired object is beneath it, covered by a few inches of sand. certain of the precise point where the treasure lies, it sinks a well vertically downwards, and infallibly reaches it. so long as there is food left it does not again leave the burrow. it feasts happily at the bottom of its well, heedless of the open or imperfectly closed burrow. when no more food is left it removes in search of further booty, which becomes the occasion of another burrow, this too in its turn to be abandoned. so many truffles eaten necessitate so many burrows, which are mere dining-rooms or pilgrim's larders. thus pass the autumn and the spring, the seasons of the _hydnocystis_, in the pleasures of the table and removal from one house to another. to study the insect _rabassier_ in my own house i had to obtain a small store of its favourite food. to seek it myself, by digging at random, would have resulted merely in waste of time; the little cryptogam is not so common that i could hope to find it without a guide. the truffle-hunter must have his dog; my guide should be the bolboceras itself. behold me, then, a _rabassier_ of a kind hitherto unknown. i have told my secret, although i fear my original teacher will laugh at me if he ever hears of my singular form of competition. the subterranean fungi grow only at certain points, but they are often found in groups. now, the beetle has passed this way; with its subtle sense of smell it has recognised the ground as favourable; for its burrows are numerous. let us dig, then, in the neighbourhood of these holes. the sign is reliable; in a few hours, thanks to the signs of the bolboceras, i obtain a handful of specimens of the _hydnocystis_. it is the first time i have ever found this fungus in the ground. let us now capture the insect--an easy matter, for we have only to excavate the burrows. the same evening i begin my experiments. a wide earthen pan is filled with fresh sand which has been passed through a sieve. with the aid of a stick the thickness of a finger i make six vertical holes in the sand: they are conveniently far apart, and are eight inches in depth. a _hydnocystis_ is placed at the bottom of each; a fine straw is then inserted, to show me the precise position later. finally the six holes are filled with sand which is beaten down so that all is firm. when the surface is perfectly level, and everywhere the same, except for the six straws, which mean nothing to the insect, i release my beetles, covering them with a wire-gauze cover. they are eight in number. at first i see nothing but the inevitable fatigue due to the incidents of exhumation, transport, and confinement in a strange place. my exiles try to escape: they climb the wire walls, and finally all take to earth at the edge of their enclosure. night comes, and all is quiet. two hours later i pay my prisoners a last visit. three are still buried under a thin layer of sand. the other five have sunk each a vertical well at the very foot of the straws which indicate the position of the buried fungi. next morning the sixth straw has its burrow like the rest. it is time to see what is happening underground. the sand is methodically removed in vertical slices. at the bottom of each burrow is a bolboceras engaged in eating its truffle. let us repeat the experiment with the partly eaten fungi. the result is the same. in one short night the food is divined under its covering of sand and attained by means of a burrow which descends as straight as a plumb-line to the point where the fungus lies. there has been no hesitation, no trial excavations which have nearly discovered the object of search. this is proved by the surface of the soil, which is everywhere just as i left it when smoothing it down. the insect could not make more directly for the objective if guided by the sense of sight; it digs always at the foot of the straw, my private sign. the truffle-dog, sniffing the ground in search of truffles, hardly attains this degree of precision. does the _hydnocystis_ possess a very keen odour, such as we should expect to give an unmistakable warning to the senses of the consumer? by no means. to our own sense of smell it is a neutral sort of object, with no appreciable scent whatever. a little pebble taken from the soil would affect our senses quite as strongly with its vague savour of fresh earth. as a finder of underground fungi the bolboceras is the rival of the dog. it would be the superior of the dog if it could generalise; it is, however, a rigid specialist, recognising nothing but the _hydnocystis_. no other fungus, to my knowledge, either attracts it or induces it to dig.[6] both dog and beetle are very near the subsoil which they scrutinise; the object they seek is at no great depth. at a greater depth neither dog nor insect could perceive such subtle effluvia, nor even the odour of the truffle. to attract insect or animal at a great distance powerful odours are necessary, such as our grosser senses can perceive. then the exploiters of the odorous substance hasten from afar off and from all directions. if for purposes of study i require specimens of such insects as dissect dead bodies i expose a dead mole to the sunlight in a distant corner of my orchard. as soon as the creature is swollen with the gases of putrefaction, and the fur commences to fall from the greenish skin, a host of insects arrive--silphidæ, dermestes, horn-beetles, and necrophori--of which not a single specimen could ever be obtained in my garden or even in the neighbourhood without the use of such a bait. they have been warned by the sense of smell, although far away in all directions, while i myself can escape from the stench by recoiling a few paces. in comparison with their sense of smell mine is miserable; but in this case, both for me and for them, there is really what our language calls an odour. i can do still better with the flower of the serpent arum (_arum dracunculus_), so noteworthy both for its form and its incomparable stench. imagine a wide lanceolated blade of a vinous purple, some twenty inches in length, which is twisted at the base into an ovoid purse about the size of a hen's egg. through the opening of this capsule rises the central column, a long club of a livid green, surrounded at the base by two rings, one of ovaries and the other of stamens. such, briefly, is the flower or rather the inflorescence of the serpent arum. for two days it exhales a horrible stench of putrid flesh; a dead dog could not produce such a terrible odour. set free by the sun and the wind, it is odious, intolerable. let us brave the infected atmosphere and approach; we shall witness a curious spectacle. warned by the stench, which travels far and wide, a host of insects are flying hither; such insects as dissect the corpses of frogs, adders, lizards, hedgehogs, moles and field-mice--creatures that the peasant finds beneath his spade and throws disembowelled on the path. they fall upon the great leaf, whose livid purple gives it the appearance of a strip of putrid flesh; they dance with impatience, intoxicated by the corpse-like odour which to them is so delicious; they roll down its steep face and are engulfed in the capsule. after a few hours of hot sunlight the receptacle is full. let us look into the capsule through the narrow opening. nowhere else could you see such a mob of insects. it is a delirious mixture of backs and bellies, wing-covers and legs, which swarms and rolls upon itself, rising and falling, seething and boiling, shaken by continual convulsions, clicking and squeaking with a sound of entangled articulations. it is a bacchanal, a general access of delirium tremens. a few, but only a few, emerge from the mass. by the central mast or the walls of the purse they climb to the opening. do they wish to take flight and escape? by no means. on the threshold of the cavity, while already almost at liberty, they allow themselves to fall into the whirlpool, retaken by their madness. the lure is irresistible. none will break free from the swarm until the evening, or perhaps the next day, when the heady fumes will have evaporated. then the units of the swarm disengage themselves from their mutual embraces, and slowly, as though regretfully, take flight and depart. at the bottom of this devil's purse remains a heap of the dead and dying, of severed limbs and wing-covers torn off; the inevitable sequels of the frantic orgy. soon the woodlice, earwigs, and ants will appear to prey upon the injured. what are these insects doing? were they the prisoners of the flower, converted into a trap which allowed them to enter but prevented their escape by means of a palisade of converging hairs? no, they were not prisoners; they had full liberty to escape, as is proved by the final exodus, which is in no way impeded. deceived by a fallacious odour, were they endeavouring to lay and establish their eggs as they would have done under the shelter of a corpse? no; there is no trace of eggs in the purse of the arum. they came convoked by the odour of a decaying body, their supreme delight; an intoxication seized them, and they rushed into the eddying swarm to take part in a festival of carrion-eaters. i was anxious to count the number of those attracted. at the height of the bacchanal i emptied the purse into a bottle. intoxicated as they were, many would escape my census, and i wished to ensure its accuracy. a few drops of carbon bisulphide quieted the swarm. the census proved that there were more than four hundred insects in the purse of the arum. the collection consisted entirely of two species--dermestes and saprinidæ--both eager prospectors of carrion and animal detritus during the spring. my friend bull, an honest dog all his lifetime if ever there was one, amongst other eccentricities had the following: finding in the dust of the road the shrivelled body of a mole, flattened by the feet of pedestrians, mummified by the heat of the sun, he would slide himself over it, from the tip of his nose to the root of his tail, he would rub himself against it deliciously over and over again, shaken with nervous spasms, and roll upon it first in one direction, then in the other. it was his sachet of musk, his flask of eau-de-cologne. perfumed to his liking, he would rise, shake himself, and proceed on his way, delighted with his toilet. do not let us scold him, and above all do not let us discuss the matter. there are all kinds of tastes in a world. why should there not be insects with similar habits among the amateurs of corpse-like savours? we see dermestes and saprinidæ hastening to the arum-flower. all day long they writhe and wriggle in a swarm, although perfectly free to escape; numbers perish in the tumultuous orgy. they are not retained by the desire of food, for the arum provides them with nothing eatable; they do not come to breed, for they take care not to establish their grubs in that place of famine. what are these frenzied creatures doing? apparently they are intoxicated with fetidity, as was bull when he rolled on the putrid body of a mole. this intoxication draws them from all parts of the neighbourhood, perhaps over considerable distances; how far we do not know. the necrophori, in quest of a place where to establish their family, travel great distances to find the corpses of small animals, informed by such odours as offend our own senses at a considerable distance. the _hydnocystis_, the food of the bolboceras, emits no such brutal emanations as these, which readily diffuse themselves through space; it is inodorous, at least to our senses. the insect which seeks it does not come from a distance; it inhabits the places wherein the cryptogam is found. faint as are the effluvia of this subterranean fungus, the prospecting epicure, being specially equipped, perceives them with the greatest ease; but then he operates at close range, from the surface of the soil. the truffle-dog is in the same case; he searches with his nose to the ground. the true truffle, however, the essential object of his search, possesses a fairly vivid odour. but what are we to say of the great peacock moth and the oak eggar, both of which find their captive female? they come from the confines of the horizon. what do they perceive at that distance? is it really an odour such as we perceive and understand? i cannot bring myself to believe it. the dog finds the truffle by smelling the earth quite close to the tuber; but he finds his master at great distances by following his footsteps, which he recognises by their scent. yet can he find the truffle at a hundred yards? or his master, in the complete absence of a trail? no. with all his fineness of scent, the dog is incapable of such feats as are realised by the moth, which is embarrassed neither by distance nor the absence of a trail. it is admitted that odour, such as affects our olfactory sense, consists of molecules emanating from the body whose odour is perceived. the odorous material becomes diffused through the air to which it communicates its agreeable or disagreeable aroma. odour and taste are to a certain extent the same; in both there is contact between the material particles causing the impression and the sensitive papillæ affected by the impression. that the serpent arum should elaborate a powerful essence which impregnates the atmosphere and makes it noisome is perfectly simple and comprehensible. thus the dermestes and saprinidæ, those lovers of corpse-like odours, are warned by molecular diffusion. in the same way the putrid frog emits and disseminates around it atoms of putrescence which travel to a considerable distance and so attract and delight the necrophorus, the carrion-beetle. but in the case of the great peacock or the oak eggar, what molecules are actually disengaged? none, according to our sense of smell. and yet this lure, to which the males hasten so speedily, must saturate with its molecules an enormous hemisphere of air--a hemisphere some miles in diameter! what the atrocious fetor of the arum cannot do the absence of odour accomplishes! however divisible matter may be, the mind refuses such conclusions. it would be to redden a lake with a grain of carmine; to fill space with a mere nothing. moreover, where my laboratory was previously saturated with powerful odours which should have overcome and annihilated any particularly delicate effluvium, the male moths arrived without the least indication of confusion or delay. a loud noise stifles a feeble note and prevents it from being heard; a brilliant light eclipses a feeble glimmer. heavy waves overcome and obliterate ripples. in the two cases cited we have waves of the same nature. but a clap of thunder does not diminish the feeblest jet of light; the dazzling glory of the sun will not muffle the slightest sound. of different natures, light and sound do not mutually interact. my experiment with spike-lavender, naphthaline, and other odours seems to prove that odour proceeds from two sources. for emission substitute undulation, and the problem of the great peacock moth is explained. without any material emanation a luminous point shakes the ether with its vibrations and fills with light a sphere of indefinite magnitude. so, or in some such manner, must the warning effluvium of the mother oak eggar operate. the moth does not emit molecules; but something about it vibrates, causing waves capable of propagation to distances incompatible with an actual diffusion of matter. from this point of view, smell would have two domains--that of particles dissolved in the air and that of etheric waves.[7] the former domain alone is known to us. it is also known to the insect. it is this that warns the saprinidæ of the fetid arum, the silphidæ and the necrophori of the putrid mole. the second category of odour, far superior in its action through space, escapes us completely, because we lack the essential sensory equipment. the great peacock moth and the oak eggar know it at the time of their nuptial festivities. many others must share it in differing degrees, according to the exigencies of their way of life. like light, odour has its x-rays. let science, instructed by the insect, one day give us a radiograph sensitive to odours, and this artificial nose will open a new world of marvels. chapter xvii the elephant-beetle some of our machines have extraordinary-looking mechanisms, which remain inexplicable so long as they are seen in repose. but wait until the whole is in motion; then the uncouth-looking contrivance, with its cog-wheels interacting and its connecting-rods oscillating, will reveal the ingenious combination in which all things are skilfully disposed to produce the desired effects. it is the same with certain insects; with certain weevils, for instance, and notably with the acorn-beetles or balanini, which are adapted, as their name denotes, to the exploitation of acorns, nuts, and other similar fruits. the most remarkable, in my part of france, is the acorn elephant (_balaninus elephas_, sch.). it is well named; the very name evokes a mental picture of the insect. it is a living caricature, this beetle with the prodigious snout. the latter is no thicker than a horsehair, reddish in colour, almost rectilinear, and of such length that in order not to stumble the insect is forced to carry it stiffly outstretched like a lance in rest. what is the use of this embarrassing pike, this ridiculous snout? here i can see some reader shrug his shoulders. well, if the only end of life is to make money by hook or by crook, such questions are certainly ridiculous. happily there are some to whom nothing in the majestic riddle of the universe is little. they know of what humble materials the bread of thought is kneaded; a nutriment no less necessary than the bread made from wheat; and they know that both labourers and inquirers nourish the world with an accumulation of crumbs. let us take pity on the question, and proceed. without seeing it at work, we already suspect that the fantastic beak of the balaninus is a drill analogous to those which we ourselves use in order to perforate hard materials. two diamond-points, the mandibles, form the terminal armature of the drill. like the larinidæ, but under conditions of greater difficulty, the curculionidæ must use the implement in order to prepare the way for the installation of their eggs. but however well founded our suspicion may be, it is not a certitude. i can only discover the secret by watching the insect at work. chance, the servant of those that patiently solicit it, grants me a sight of the acorn-beetle at work, in the earlier half of october. my surprise is great, for at this late season all industrial activity is as a rule at an end. the first touch of cold and the entomological season is over. to-day, moreover, it is wild weather; the _bise_ is moaning, glacial, cracking one's lips. one needs a robust faith to go out on such a day in order to inspect the thickets. yet if the beetle with the long beak exploits the acorns, as i think it does, the time presses if i am to catch it at its work. the acorns, still green, have acquired their full growth. in two or three weeks they will attain the chestnut brown of perfect maturity, quickly followed by their fall. my seemingly futile pilgrimage ends in success. on the evergreen oaks i surprise a balaninus with the trunk half sunk in an acorn. careful observation is impossible while the branches are shaken by the _mistral_. i detach the twig and lay it gently upon the ground. the insect takes no notice of its removal; it continues its work. i crouch beside it, sheltered from the storm behind a mass of underwood, and watch operations. shod with adhesive sandals which later on, in my laboratory, will allow it rapidly to climb a vertical sheet of glass, the elephant-beetle is solidly established on the smooth, steep curvature of the acorn. it is working its drill. slowly and awkwardly it moves around its implanted weapon, describing a semicircle whose centre is the point of the drill, and then another semicircle in the reverse direction. this is repeated over and over again; the movement, in short, is identical with that we give to a bradawl when boring a hole in a plank. little by little the rostrum sinks into the acorn. at the end of an hour it has entirely disappeared. a short period of repose follows, and finally the instrument is withdrawn. what is going to happen next? nothing on this occasion. the balaninus abandons its work and solemnly retires, disappearing among the withered leaves. for the day there is nothing more to be learned. but my interest is now awakened. on calm days, more favourable to the entomologist, i return to the woods, and i soon have sufficient insects to people my laboratory cages. foreseeing a serious difficulty in the slowness with which the beetle labours, i prefer to study them indoors, with the unlimited leisure only to be found in one's own home. the precaution is fortunate. if i had tried to continue as i began, and to observe the balaninus in the liberty of the woods, i should never, even with the greatest good fortune, have had the patience to follow to the end the choice of the acorn, the boring of the hole, and the laying of the eggs, so meticulously deliberate is the insect in all its affairs; as the reader will soon be able to judge. three species of oak-tree compose the copse inhabited by the balaninus: the evergreen oak and the pubescent oak, which would become fine trees if the woodman would give them time, and the kermes oak, a mere scrubby bush. the first species, which is the most abundant of the three, is that preferred by the balaninus. the acorn is firm, elongated, and of moderate size; the cup is covered with little warts. the acorns of the pubescent oak are usually stunted, short, wrinkled, and fluted, and subject to premature fall. the aridity of the hills of sérignan is unfavourable to them. the acorn-beetles accept them only in default of something better. the kermes, a dwarf oak, a ridiculous tree which a man can jump over, surprises me by the wealth of its acorns, which are large, ovoidal growths, the cup being covered with scales. the balaninus could not make a better choice; the acorn affords a safe, strong dwelling and a capacious storehouse of food. a few twigs from these three trees, well provided with acorns, are arranged under the domes of some of my wire-gauze covers, the ends being plunged into a glass of water which will keep them fresh. a suitable number of couples are then introduced into the cages; and the latter are placed at the windows of my study, where they obtain the direct sunlight for the greater part of the day. let us now arm ourselves with patience, and keep a constant watch upon events. we shall be rewarded; the exploitation of the acorn deserves to be seen. matters do not drag on for very long. two days after these preparations i arrive at the precise moment when the task is commenced. the mother, larger than the male, and equipped with a longer drill, is inspecting her acorn, doubtless with a view to depositing her eggs. she goes over it step by step, from the point to the stem, both above and below. on the warty cup progression is easy; over the rest of the surface it would be impossible, were not the soles of her feet shod with adhesive pads, which enable her to retain her hold in any position. without the least uncertainty of footing, the insect walks with equal facility over the top or bottom or up the sides of the slippery fruit. the choice is made; the acorn is recognised as being of good quality. the time has come to sink the hole. on account of its excessive length it is not easy to manoeuvre the beak. to obtain the best mechanical effect the instrument must be applied perpendicularly to the convex surface of the acorn, and the embarrassing implement which is carried in front of the insect when the latter is not at work must now be held in such a position as to be beneath the worker. to obtain this result the insect rears herself upon her hind legs, supporting herself upon the tripod formed by the end of the wing-covers and the posterior tarsi. it would be hard to imagine anything more curious than this little carpenter, as she stands upright and brings her nasal bradawl down towards her body. now the drill is held plumb against the surface, and the boring commences. the method is that i witnessed in the wood on the day of the storm. very slowly the insect veers round from right to left, then from left to right. her drill is not a spiral gimlet which will sink itself by a constant rotary motion; it is a bradawl, or rather a trochar, which progresses by little bites, by alternative erosion, first in one direction, then the other. before continuing, let me record an accident which is too striking to be passed over. on various occasions i have found the insect dead in the midst of its task. the body is in an extraordinary position, which would be laughable if death were not always a serious thing, above all when it comes suddenly, in the midst of labour. the drill is implanted in the acorn just a little beyond the tip; the work was only commenced. at the top of the drill, at right angles to it, the balaninus is suspended in the air, far from the supporting surface of the acorn. it is dried, mummified, dead i know not how long. the legs are rigid and contracted under the body. even if they retained the flexibility and the power of extension that were theirs in life, they would fall far short of the surface of the acorn. what then has happened, that this unhappy insect should be impaled like a specimen beetle with a pin through its head? an accident of the workshop is responsible. on account of the length of its implement the beetle commences her work standing upright, supported by the two hind-legs. imagine a slip, a false step on the part of the two adhesive feet; the unfortunate creature will immediately lose her footing, dragged by the elasticity of the snout, which she was forced to bend somewhat at the beginning. torn away from her foothold, the suspended insect vainly struggles in air; nowhere can her feet, those safety anchors, find a hold. she starves at the end of her snout, for lack of foothold whereby to extricate herself. like the artisans in our factories, the elephant-beetle is sometimes the victim of her tools. let us wish her good luck, and sure feet, careful not to slip, and proceed. on this occasion all goes well, but so slowly that the descent of the drill, even when amplified by the magnifying-glass, cannot be perceived. the insect veers round perpetually, rests, and resumes her work. an hour passes, two hours, wearying the observer by their sustained attention; for i wish to witness the precise moment when the beetle withdraws her drill, turns round, and deposits her egg in the mouth of the orifice. this, at least, is how i foresee the event. two hours go by, exhausting my patience. i call the household to my aid. three of us take turns, keeping an uninterrupted watch upon the persevering creature whose secret i intend at any cost to discover. [illustration: 1. the grey locust. 1'. the nervatures of the wing. 2. the balaninus fallen a victim to the length of her proboscis.] it was well that i called in helpers to lend me their eyes and their attention. after eight hours--eight interminable hours, when it was nearly night, the sentinel on the watch calls me. the insect appears to have finished. she does, in fact, very cautiously withdraw her beak, as though fearing to slip. once the tool is withdrawn she holds it pointing directly in front of her. the moment has come.... alas, no! once more i am cheated; my eight hours of observation have been fruitless. the balaninus decamps; abandons her acorn without laying her eggs. i was certainly right to distrust the result of observation in the open woods. such concentration among the oaks, exposed to the sun, wind, and rain would have been an intolerable task. during the whole of october, with the aid of such helpers as are needed, i remark a number of borings, not followed by the laying of eggs. the duration of the observer's task varies greatly. it usually amounts to a couple of hours; sometimes it exceeds half the day. with what object are these perforations made, so laborious and yet so often unused? let us first of all discover the position of the egg, and the first mouthfuls taken by the grub, and perhaps the reply will be found. the peopled acorns remain on the oak, held in their cups as though nothing had occurred to the detriment of the cotyledons. with a little attention they may be readily recognised. not far from the cup, on the smooth, still green envelope of the acorn a little point is visible; a tiny needle-prick. a narrow brown aureole, the product of mortification, is not long in appearing. this marks the opening of the hole. sometimes, but more rarely, the hole is drilled through the cup itself. let us select those acorns which have been recently perforated: that is to say, those in which the perforation is not yet surrounded by the brown ring which appears in course of time. let us shell them. many contain nothing out of the way; the balaninus has bored them but has not laid her eggs in them. they resemble the acorns which for hours and hours were drilled in my laboratory but not utilised. many, on the contrary, contain an egg. now however distant the entrance of the bore may be, this egg is always at the bottom of the acorn, within the cup, at the base of the cotyledonary matter. the cup furnishes a thin film like swan-skin which imbibes the sapid exudations from the stem, the source of nourishment. i have seen a young grub, hatched under my eyes, eat as his first mouthfuls this tender cottony layer, which is moist and flavoured with tannin. such nutriment, juicy and easy of digestion, like all nascent organic matter, is only found in this particular spot; and it is only there, between the cup and the base of the cotyledons, that the elephant-beetle establishes her egg. the insect knows to a nicety the position of the portions best adapted to the feeble stomach of the newly hatched larva. above this is the tougher nutriment of the cotyledons. refreshed by its first meal, the grub proceeds to attack this; not directly, but in the tunnel bored by the mother, which is littered with tiny crumbs and half-masticated shavings. with this light mealy diet the strength of the grub increases, and it then plunges directly into the substance of the acorn. these data explain the tactics of the gravid mother. what is her object when, before proceeding to sink her hole, she inspects her acorn, from above, below, before and behind, with such meticulous care? she is making sure that the acorn is not already occupied. the larder is amply stored, but it does not contain enough for two. never in fact, have i found two larvæ in the same acorn. one only, always only one, digests the copious meal and converts it into a greenish dust before leaving it and descending to the ground. only an insignificant shell remains uneaten. the rule is, to each grub one acorn. before trusting the egg to the acorn it is therefore essential to subject it to a thorough examination, to discover whether it already has an occupant. this possible occupant would be at the base of the acorn, under the cover of the cup. nothing could be more secret than this hiding-place. not an eye could divine the inhabitant if the surface of the acorn did not bear the mark of a tiny perforation. this mark, just visible, is my guide. its presence tells me that the acorn is inhabited, or at least that it has been prepared for the reception of the egg; its absence tells me that the acorn has not yet been appropriated. the elephant-beetle undoubtedly draws the same conclusions. i see matters from on high, with a comprehensive glance, assisted at will by the magnifying-glass. i turn the acorn between my fingers for a moment, and the inspection is concluded. the beetle, investigating the acorn at close quarters, is often obliged to scrutinise practically the entire surface before detecting the tell-tale spot. moreover, the welfare of her family demands a far more careful search than does my curiosity. this is the reason for her prolonged and deliberate examination. the search is concluded; the acorn is recognised as unoccupied. the drill is applied to the surface and rotated for hours; then, very often, the insect departs, disdaining the result of her work. why such protracted efforts? was the beetle piercing the fruit merely to obtain drink and refreshment? was the beak thrust into the depths of the base merely to obtain, from the choicer parts, a few sips of nutritious sap? was the whole undertaking merely a matter of personal nourishment? at first i believed this to be the solution, though surprised at the display of so much perseverance rewarded by the merest sip. the behaviour of the males, however, forced me to abandon this idea. they also possess the long beak, and could readily make such perforations if they wished; yet i have never seen one take up his stand upon an acorn and work at it with his augur. then why this fruitless labour? a mere nothing suffices these abstemious creatures. a superficial operation performed upon the surface of a tender leaf yields them sufficient sustenance. if the males, the unoccupied males who have leisure to enjoy the pleasures of the palate, ask no more than the sap of the leaf, how should the mothers, busied with the affairs of the breeding-season, find time to waste upon such dearly bought pleasures as the inner juices of the acorn? no, the acorn is not perforated for the purpose of drinking its juices. it is possible that once the beak is deeply sunk, the female may take a mouthful or two, but it is certain that food and drink are not the objects in view. at last i begin to foresee the solution of the problem. the egg, as i have said, is always at the base of the acorn, in the midst of a soft cottony layer which is moistened by the sap which oozes from the stalk. the grub, upon hatching out, being as yet incapable of attacking the firm substance of the cotyledons, masticates the delicate felt-like layer at the base of the cup and is nourished by its juices. but as the acorn matures this layer becomes more solid in its consistency. the soft tissues harden; the moist tissues dry up. there is a period during which the acorn fulfils to perfection the conditions most conducive to the welfare of the grub. at an earlier period matters would not have reached the desired stage; at a later period the acorn would be too mature. the exterior of the acorn gives no indication whatever of the progress of this internal cookery. in order not to inflict unsuitable food on the grub, the mother beetle, not sufficiently informed by the look of the acorn, is thus obliged to taste, at the end of her trunk, the tissues at the base of the cup. the nurse, before giving her charge a spoonful of broth, tests it by tasting it. in the same way the mother beetle plunges her trunk into the base of the cup, to test the contents before bestowing them upon her offspring. if the food is recognised as being satisfactory the egg is laid; if not, the perforation is abandoned without more ado. this explains the perforations which serve no purpose, in spite of so much labour; the tissues at the base of the cup, being carefully tested, are not found to be in the required condition. the elephant-beetles are difficult to please and take infinite pains when the first mouthful of the grub is in question. to place the egg in a position where the new-born grub will find light and juicy and easily digested nutriment is not enough for those far-seeing mothers; their cares look beyond this point. an intermediary period is desirable, which will lead the little larva from the delicacies of its first hours to the diet of hard acorn. this intermediary period is passed in the gallery, the work of the maternal beak. there it finds the crumbs, the shavings bitten off by the chisels of the rostrum. moreover, the walls of the tunnel, which are softened by mortification, are better suited than the rest of the acorn to the tender mandibles of the larva. before setting to work on the cotyledons the grub does, in fact, commence upon the contents and walls of this tiny passage. it first consumes the shavings lying loose in the passage; it devours the brown fragments adhering to the walls; finally, being now sufficiently strengthened, it attacks the body of the acorn, plunges into it, and disappears. the stomach is ready; the rest is a blissful feast. this intermediary tunnel must be of a certain length, in order to satisfy the needs of infancy, so the mother must labour at the work of drilling. if the perforation were made solely with the purpose of tasting the material at the base of the acorn and recognising its degree of maturity, the operation might be very much shorter, since the hole could be sunk through the cup itself from a point close to the base. this fact is not unrecognised; i have on occasion found the insect perforating the scaly cup. in such a proceeding i see the attempt of a gravid mother pressed for time to obtain prompt information. if the acorn is suitable the boring will be recommenced at a more distant point, through the surface of the acorn itself. when an egg is to be laid the rule is to bore the hole from a point as distant as is practicable from the base--as far, in short, as the length of the rostrum will permit. what is the object of this long perforation, which often occupies more than half the day? why this tenacious perseverance when, not far from the stalk, at the cost of much less time and fatigue, the rostrum could attain the desired point--the living spring from which the new-born grub is to drink? the mother has her own reasons for toiling in this manner; in doing thus she still attains the necessary point, the base of the acorn, and at the same time--a most valuable result--she prepares for the grub a long tube of fine, easily digested meal. but these are trivialities! not so, if you please, but high and important matters, speaking to us of the infinite pains which preside over the preservation of the least of things; witnesses of a superior logic which regulates the smallest details. the balaninus, so happily inspired as a mother, has her place in the world and is worthy of notice. so, at least, thinks the blackbird, which gladly makes a meal of the insect with the long beak when fruits grow rare at the end of autumn. it makes a small mouthful, but a tasty, and is a pleasant change after such olives as yet withstand the cold. and what without the blackbird and its rivalry of song were the reawakening of the woods in spring? were man to disappear, annihilated by his own foolish errors, the festival of the life-bringing season would be no less worthily observed, celebrated by the fluting of the yellow-billed songster. to the meritorious rôle of regaling the blackbird, the minstrel of the forest, the balaninus adds another--that of moderating the superfluity of vegetation. like all the mighty who are worthy of their strength, the oak is generous; it produces acorns by the bushel. what could the earth do with such prodigality? the forest would stifle itself for want of room; excess would ruin the necessary. but no sooner is this abundance of food produced than there is an influx from every side of consumers only too eager to abate this inordinate production. the field-mouse, a native of the woods, stores acorns in a gravel-heap near its hay-lined nest. a stranger, the jay, comes in flocks from far away, warned i know not how. for some weeks it flies feasting from oak to oak, giving vent to its joys and its emotions in a voice like that of a strangling cat; then, its mission accomplished, it returns to the north whence it came. the balaninus has anticipated them all. the mother confided her eggs to the acorns while yet they were green. these have now fallen to earth, brown before their time, and pierced by a round hole through which the larva has escaped after devouring the contents. under one single oak a basket might easily be filled with these ruined shells. more than the jay, more than the field-mouse, the elephant-beetle has contributed to reduce the superfluity of acorns. presently man arrives, busied in the interest of his pig. in my village it is quite an important event when the municipal hoardings announce the day for opening the municipal woods for the gathering of acorns. the more zealous visit the woods the day before and select the best places. next day, at daybreak, the whole family is there. the father beats the upper branches with a pole; the mother, wearing a heavy hempen apron which enables her to force her way through the stubborn undergrowth, gathers those within reach of the hand, while the children collect those scattered upon the ground. first the small baskets are filled, then the big _corbeilles_, and then the sacks. after the field-mouse, the jay, the weevil, and so many others have taken toll comes man, calculating how many pounds of bacon-fat his harvest will be worth. one regret mingles with the cheer of the occasion; it is to see so many acorns scattered on the ground which are pierced, spoiled, good for nothing. and man curses the author of this destruction; to hear him you would think the forest is meant for him alone, and that the oaks bear acorns only for the sake of his pig. my friend, i would say to him, the forest guard cannot take legal proceedings against the offender, and it is just as well, for our egoism, which is inclined to see in the acorn only a garland of sausages, would have annoying results. the oak calls the whole world to enjoy its fruits. we take the larger part because we are the stronger. that is our only right. more important than our rights is the equitable division of the fruits of the earth between the various consumers, great and little, all of whom play their part in this world. if it is good that the blackbird should flute and rejoice in the burgeoning of the spring, then it is no bad thing that acorns should be worm-eaten. in the acorn the dessert of the blackbird is prepared; the balaninus, the tasty mouthful that puts flesh upon his flanks and music into his throat. let the blackbird sing, and let us return to the eggs of the curculionidæ. we know where the egg is--at the base of the acorn, because the tenderest and most juicy tissues of the fruit are there. but how did it get there, so far from the point of entry? a very trifling question, it is true; puerile even, if you will. do not let us disdain to ask it; science is made of these puerilities. the first man to rub a piece of amber on his sleeve and to find that it thereupon attracted fragments of chaff had certainly no vision of the electric marvels of our days. he was amusing himself in a childlike manner. repeated, tested, and probed in every imaginable way, the child's experiment has become one of the forces of the world. the observer must neglect nothing; for he never knows what may develop out of the humblest fact. so again we will ask: by what process did the egg of the elephant-beetle reach a point so far from the orifice in the acorn? to one who was not already aware of the position of the egg, but knew that the grub attacked the base of the acorn first, the solution of that fact would be as follows: the egg is laid at the entrance of the tunnel, at the surface, and the grub, crawling down the gallery sunk by the mother, gains of its own accord this distant point where its infant diet is to be found. before i had sufficient data this was my own belief; but the mistake was soon exposed. i plucked an acorn just as the mother withdrew, after having for a moment applied the tip of the abdomen to the orifice of the passage just opened by her rostrum. the egg, so it seemed, must be there, at the entrance of the passage.... but no, it was not! it was at the other extremity of the passage! if i dared, i would say it had dropped like a stone into a well. that idea we must abandon at once; the passage is extremely narrow and encumbered with shavings, so that such a thing would be impossible. moreover, according to the direction of the stem, accordingly as it pointed upwards or downwards, the egg would have to fall downwards in one acorn and upwards in another. a second explanation suggests itself, not less perilous. it might be said: "the cuckoo lays her egg on the grass, no matter where; she lifts it in her beak and places it in the nearest appropriate nest." might not the balaninus follow an analogous method? does she employ the rostrum to place the egg in its position at the base of the acorn? i cannot see that the insect has any other implement capable of reaching this remote hiding-place. nevertheless, we must hastily reject such an absurd explanation as a last, desperate resort. the elephant-beetle certainly does not lay its egg in the open and seize it in its beak. if it did so the delicate ovum would certainly be destroyed, crushed in the attempt to thrust it down a narrow passage half choked with debris. this is very perplexing. my embarrassment will be shared by all readers who are acquainted with the structure of the elephant-beetle. the grasshopper has a sabre, an oviscapt which plunges into the earth and sows the eggs at the desired depth; the leuscopis has a probe which finds its way through the masonry of the mason-bee and lays the egg in the cocoon of the great somnolent larva; but the balaninus has none of these swords, daggers, or pikes; she has nothing but the tip of her abdomen. yet she has only to apply that abdominal extremity to the opening of the passage, and the egg is immediately lodged at the very bottom. anatomy will give us the answer to the riddle, which is otherwise indecipherable. i open the body of a gravid female. there, before my eyes, is something that takes my breath away. there, occupying the whole length of the body, is an extraordinary device; a red, horny, rigid rod; i had almost said a rostrum, so greatly does it resemble the implement which the insect carries on his head. it is a tube, fine as a horsehair, slightly enlarged at the free extremity, like an old-fashioned blunderbuss, and expanding to form an egg-shaped capsule at the point of origin. this is the oviduct, and its dimensions are the same as those of the rostrum. as far as the perforating beak can plunge, so far the oviscapt, the interior rostrum, will reach. when working upon her acorn the female chooses the point of attack so that the two complementary instruments can each of them reach the desired point at the base of the acorn. the matter now explains itself. the work of drilling completed, the gallery ready, the mother turns and places the tip of the abdomen against the orifice. she extrudes the internal mechanism, which easily passes through the loose debris of the boring. no sign of the probe appears, so quickly and discreetly does it work; nor is any trace of it to be seen when, the egg having been properly deposited, the implement ascends and returns to the abdomen. it is over, and the mother departs, and we have not caught a glimpse of her internal mechanism. was i not right to insist? an apparently insignificant fact has led to the authentic proof of a fact that the larinidæ had already made me suspect. the long-beaked weevils have an internal probe, an abdominal rostrum, which nothing in their external appearance betrays; they possess, among the hidden organs of the abdomen, the counterpart of the grasshopper's sabre and the ichneumon's dagger. chapter xviii the pea-weevil--_bruchus pisi_ peas are held in high esteem by mankind. from remote ages man has endeavoured, by careful culture, to produce larger, tenderer, and sweeter varieties. of an adaptable character, under careful treatment the plant has evolved in a docile fashion, and has ended by giving us what the ambition of the gardener desired. to-day we have gone far beyond the yield of the varrons and columelles, and further still beyond the original pea; from the wild seeds confided to the soil by the first man who thought to scratch up the surface of the earth, perhaps with the half-jaw of a cave-bear, whose powerful canine tooth would serve him as a ploughshare! where is it, this original pea, in the world of spontaneous vegetation? our own country has nothing resembling it. is it to be found elsewhere? on this point botany is silent, or replies only with vague probabilities. we find the same ignorance elsewhere on the subject of the majority of our alimentary vegetables. whence comes wheat, the blessed grain which gives us bread? no one knows. you will not find it here, except in the care of man; nor will you find it abroad. in the east, the birthplace of agriculture, no botanist has ever encountered the sacred ear growing of itself on unbroken soil. barley, oats, and rye, the turnip and the beet, the beetroot, the carrot, the pumpkin, and so many other vegetable products, leave us in the same perplexity; their point of departure is unknown to us, or at most suspected behind the impenetrable cloud of the centuries. nature delivered them to us in the full vigour of the thing untamed, when their value as food was indifferent, as to-day she offers us the sloe, the bullace, the blackberry, the crab; she gave them to us in the state of imperfect sketches, for us to fill out and complete; it was for our skill and our labour patiently to induce the nourishing pulp which was the earliest form of capital, whose interest is always increasing in the primordial bank of the tiller of the soil. as storehouses of food the cereal and the vegetable are, for the greater part, the work of man. the fundamental species, a poor resource in their original state, we borrowed as they were from the natural treasury of the vegetable world; the perfected race, rich in alimentary materials, is the result of our art. if wheat, peas, and all the rest are indispensable to us, our care, by a just return, is absolutely necessary to them. such as our needs have made them, incapable of resistance in the bitter struggle for survival, these vegetables, left to themselves without culture, would rapidly disappear, despite the numerical abundance of their seeds, as the foolish sheep would disappear were there no more sheep-folds. they are our work, but not always our exclusive property. wherever food is amassed, the consumers collect from the four corners of the sky; they invite themselves to the feast of abundance, and the richer the food the greater their numbers. man, who alone is capable of inducing agrarian abundance, is by that very fact the giver of an immense banquet at which legions of feasters take their place. by creating more juicy and more generous fruits he calls to his enclosures, despite himself, thousands and thousands of hungry creatures, against whose appetites his prohibitions are helpless. the more he produces, the larger is the tribute demanded of him. wholesale agriculture and vegetable abundance favour our rival the insect. this is the immanent law. nature, with an equal zeal, offers her mighty breast to all her nurslings alike; to those who live by the goods of others no less than to the producers. for us, who plough, sow, and reap, and weary ourselves with labour, she ripens the wheat; she ripens it also for the little calender-beetle, which, although exempted from the labour of the fields, enters our granaries none the less, and there, with its pointed beak, nibbles our wheat, grain by grain, to the husk. for us, who dig, weed, and water, bent with fatigue and burned by the sun, she swells the pods of the pea; she swells them also for the weevil, which does no gardener's work, yet takes its share of the harvest at its own hour, when the earth is joyful with the new life of spring. let us follow the manoeuvres of this insect which takes its tithe of the green pea. i, a benevolent ratepayer, will allow it to take its dues; it is precisely to benefit it that i have sown a few rows of the beloved plant in a corner of my garden. without other invitation on my part than this modest expenditure of seed-peas it arrives punctually during the month of may. it has learned that this stony soil, rebellious to the culture of the kitchen-gardener, is bearing peas for the first time. in all haste therefore it has hurried, an agent of the entomological revenue system, to demand its dues. whence does it come? it is impossible to say precisely. it has come from some shelter, somewhere, in which it has passed the winter in a state of torpor. the plane-tree, which sheds its rind during the heats of the summer, furnishes an excellent refuge for homeless insects under its partly detached sheets of bark. i have often found our weevil in such a winter refuge. sheltered under the dead covering of the plane, or otherwise protected while the winter lasts, it awakens from its torpor at the first touch of a kindly sun. the almanack of the instincts has aroused it; it knows as well as the gardener when the pea-vines are in flower, and seeks its favourite plant, journeying thither from every side, running with quick, short steps, or nimbly flying. a small head, a fine snout, a costume of ashen grey sprinkled with brown, flattened wing-covers, a dumpy, compact body, with two large black dots on the rear segment--such is the summary portrait of my visitor. the middle of may approaches, and with it the van of the invasion. they settle on the flowers, which are not unlike white-winged butterflies. i see them at the base of the blossom or inside the cavity of the "keel" of the flower, but the majority explore the petals and take possession of them. the time for laying the eggs has not yet arrived. the morning is mild; the sun is warm without being oppressive. it is the moment of nuptial flights; the time of rejoicing in the splendour of the sunshine. everywhere are creatures rejoicing to be alive. couples come together, part, and re-form. when towards noon the heat becomes too great, the weevils retire into the shadow, taking refuge singly in the folds of the flowers whose secret corners they know so well. to-morrow will be another day of festival, and the next day also, until the pods, emerging from the shelter of the "keel" of the flower, are plainly visible, enlarging from day to day. a few gravid females, more pressed for time than the others, confide their eggs to the growing pod, flat and meagre as it issues from its floral sheath. these hastily laid batches of eggs, expelled perhaps by the exigencies of an ovary incapable of further delay, seem to me in serious danger; for the seed in which the grub must establish itself is as yet no more than a tender speck of green, without firmness and without any farinaceous tissue. no larva could possible find sufficient nourishment there, unless it waited for the pea to mature. but is the grub capable of fasting for any length of time when once hatched? it is doubtful. the little i have seen tells me that the new-born grub must establish itself in the midst of its food as quickly as possible, and that it perishes unless it can do so. i am therefore of opinion that such eggs as are deposited in immature pods are lost. however, the race will hardly suffer by such a loss, so fertile is the little beetle. we shall see directly how prodigal the female is of her eggs, the majority of which are destined to perish. the important part of the maternal task is completed by the end of may, when the shells are swollen by the expanding peas, which have reached their final growth, or are but little short of it. i was anxious to see the female bruchus at work in her quality of curculionid, as our classification declares her.[8] the other weevils are rhyncophora, beaked insects, armed with a drill with which to prepare the hole in which the egg is laid. the bruchus possesses only a short snout or muzzle, excellently adapted for eating soft tissues, but valueless as a drill. the method of installing the family is consequently absolutely different. there are no industrious preparations as with the balinidæ, the larinidæ, and the rhynchitides. not being equipped with a long oviscapt, the mother sows her eggs in the open, with no protection against the heat of the sun and the variations of temperature. nothing could be simpler, and nothing more perilous to the eggs, in the absence of special characteristics which would enable them to resist the alternate trials of heat and cold, moisture and drought. in the caressing sunlight of ten o'clock in the morning the mother runs up and down the chosen pod, first on one side, then on the other, with a jerky, capricious, unmethodical gait. she repeatedly extrudes a short oviduct, which oscillates right and left as though to graze the skin of the pod. an egg follows, which is abandoned as soon as laid. a hasty touch of the oviduct, first here, then there, on the green skin of the pea-pod, and that is all. the egg is left there, unprotected, in the full sunlight. no choice of position is made such as might assist the grub when it seeks to penetrate its larder. some eggs are laid on the swellings created by the peas beneath; others in the barren valleys which separate them. the first are close to the peas, the second at some distance from them. in short, the eggs of the bruchus are laid at random, as though on the wing. we observe a still more serious vice: the number of eggs is out of all proportion to the number of peas in the pod. let us note at the outset that each grub requires one pea; it is the necessary ration, and is largely sufficient to one larva, but is not enough for several, nor even for two. one pea to each grub, neither more nor less, is the unchangeable rule. we should expect to find signs of a procreative economy which would impel the female to take into account the number of peas contained in the pod which she has just explored; we might expect her to set a numerical limit on her eggs in conformity with that of the peas available. but no such limit is observed. the rule of one pea to one grub is always contradicted by the multiplicity of consumers. my observations are unanimous on this point. the number of eggs deposited on one pod always exceeds the number of peas available, and often to a scandalous degree. however meagre the contents of the pod there is a superabundance of consumers. dividing the sum of the eggs upon such or such a pod by that of the peas contained therein, i find there are five to eight claimants for each pea; i have found ten, and there is no reason why this prodigality should not go still further. many are called, but few are chosen! what is to become of all these supernumeraries, perforce excluded from the banquet for want of space? the eggs are of a fairly bright amber yellow, cylindrical in form, smooth, and rounded at the ends. their length is at most a twenty-fifth of an inch. each is affixed to the pod by means of a slight network of threads of coagulated albumen. neither wind nor rain can loosen their hold. the mother not infrequently emits them two at a time, one above the other; not infrequently, also, the uppermost of the two eggs hatches before the other, while the latter fades and perishes. what was lacking to this egg, that it should fail to produce a grub? perhaps a bath of sunlight; the incubating heat of which the outer egg has robbed it. whether on account of the fact that it is shadowed by the other egg, or for other reasons, the elder of the eggs in a group of two rarely follows the normal course, but perishes on the pod, dead without having lived. there are exceptions to this premature end; sometimes the two eggs develop equally well; but such cases are exceptional, so that the bruchid family would be reduced to about half its dimensions if the binary system were the rule. to the detriment of our peas and to the advantage of the beetle, the eggs are commonly laid one by one and in isolation. a recent emergence is shown by a little sinuous ribbon-like mark, pale or whitish, where the skin of the pod is raised and withered, which starts from the egg and is the work of the new-born larva; a sub-epidermic tunnel along which the grub works its way, while seeking a point from which it can escape into a pea. this point once attained, the larva, which is scarcely a twenty-fifth of an inch in length, and is white with a black head, perforates the envelope and plunges into the capacious hollow of the pod. it has reached the peas and crawls upon the nearest. i have observed it with the magnifier. having explored the green globe, its new world, it begins to sink a well perpendicularly into the sphere. i have often seen it half-way in, wriggling its tail in the effort to work the quicker. in a short time the grub disappears and is at home. the point of entry, minute, but always easily recognisable by its brown coloration on the pale green background of the pea, has no fixed location; it may be at almost any point on the surface of the pea, but an exception is usually made of the lower half; that is, the hemisphere whose pole is formed by the supporting stem. it is precisely in this portion that the germ is found, which will not be eaten by the larva, and will remain capable of developing into a plant, in spite of the large aperture made by the emergence of the adult insect. why is this particular portion left untouched? what are the motives that safeguard the germ? it goes without saying that the bruchus is not considering the gardener. the pea is meant for it and for no one else. in refusing the few bites that would lead to the death of the seed, it has no intention of limiting its destruction. it abstains from other motives. let us remark that the peas touch laterally, and are pressed one against the other, so that the grub, when searching for a point of attack, cannot circulate at will. let us also note that the lower pole expands into the umbilical excrescence, which is less easy of perforation than those parts protected by the skin alone. it is even possible that the umbilicum, whose organisation differs from that of the rest of the pea, contains a peculiar sap that is distasteful to the little grub. such, doubtless, is the reason why the peas exploited by the bruchus are still able to germinate. they are damaged, but not dead, because the invasion was conducted from the free hemisphere, a portion less vulnerable and more easy of access. moreover, as the pea in its entirety is too large for a single grub to consume, the consumption is limited to the portion preferred by the consumer, and this portion is not the essential portion of the pea. with other conditions, with very much smaller or very much larger seeds, we shall observe very different results. if too small, the germ will perish, gnawed like the rest by the insufficiently provisioned inmate; if too large, the abundance of food will permit of several inmates. exploited in the absence of the pea, the cultivated vetch and the broad bean afford us an excellent example; the smaller seed, of which all but the skin is devoured, is left incapable of germination; but the large bean, even though it may have held a number of grubs, is still capable of sprouting. knowing that the pod always exhibits a number of eggs greatly in excess of the enclosed peas, and that each pea is the exclusive property of one grub, we naturally ask what becomes of the superfluous grubs. do they perish outside when the more precocious have one by one taken their places in their vegetable larder? or do they succumb to the intolerant teeth of the first occupants? neither explanation is correct. let us relate the facts. on all old peas--they are at this stage dry--from which the adult bruchus has emerged, leaving a large round hole of exit, the magnifying-glass will show a variable number of fine reddish punctuations, perforated in the centre. what are these spots, of which i count five, six, and even more on a single pea? it is impossible to be mistaken: they are the points of entry of as many grubs. several grubs have entered the pea, but of the whole group only one has survived, fattened, and attained the adult age. and the others? we shall see. at the end of may, and in june, the period of egg-laying, let us inspect the still green and tender peas. nearly all the peas invaded show us the multiple perforations already observed on the dry peas abandoned by the weevils. does this actually mean that there are several grubs in the pea? yes. skin the peas in question, separate the cotyledons, and break them up as may be necessary. we shall discover several grubs, extremely youthful, curled up comma-wise, fat and lively, each in a little round niche in the body of the pea. peace and welfare seem to reign in the little community. there is no quarrelling, no jealousy between neighbours. the feast has commenced; food is abundant, and the feasters are separated one from another by the walls of uneaten substance. with this isolation in separate cells no conflicts need be feared; no sudden bite of the mandibles, whether intentional or accidental. all the occupants enjoy the same rights of property, the same appetite, and the same strength. how does this communal feast terminate? having first opened them, i place a number of peas which are found to be well peopled in a glass test-tube. i open others daily. in this way i keep myself informed as to the progress of the various larvæ. at first nothing noteworthy is to be seen. isolated in its narrow chamber, each grub nibbles the substance around it, peacefully and parsimoniously. it is still very small; a mere speck of food is a feast; but the contents of one pea will not suffice the whole number to the end. famine is ahead, and all but one must perish. soon, indeed, the aspect of things is entirely changed. one of the grubs--that which occupies the central position in the pea--begins to grow more quickly than the others. scarcely has it surpassed the others in size when the latter cease to eat, and no longer attempt to burrow forwards. they lie motionless and resigned; they die that gentle death which comes to unconscious lives. henceforth the entire pea belongs to the sole survivor. now what has happened that these lives around the privileged one should be thus annihilated? in default of a satisfactory reply, i will propose a suggestion. in the centre of the pea, less ripened than the rest of the seed by the chemistry of the sun, may there not be a softer pulp, of a quality better adapted to the infantile digestion of the grub? there, perhaps, being nourished by tenderer, sweeter, and perhaps more tasty tissues, the stomach becomes more vigorous, until it is fit to undertake less easily digested food. a nursling is fed on milk before proceeding to bread and broth. may not the central portion of the pea be the feeding-bottle of the bruchid? with equal rights, fired by an equal ambition, all the occupants of the pea bore their way towards the delicious morsel. the journey is laborious, and the grubs must rest frequently in their provisional niches. they rest; while resting they frugally gnaw the riper tissues surrounding them; they gnaw rather to open a way than to fill their stomachs. finally one of the excavators, favoured by the direction taken, attains the central portion. it establishes itself there, and all is over; the others have only to die. how are they warned that the place is taken? do they hear their brother gnawing at the walls of his lodging? can they feel the vibration set up by his nibbling mandibles? something of the kind must happen, for from that moment they make no attempt to burrow further. without struggling against the fortunate winner, without seeking to dislodge him, those which are beaten in the race give themselves up to death. i admire this candid resignation on the part of the departed. another condition--that of space--is also present as a factor. the pea-weevil is the largest of our bruchidæ. when it attains the adult stage it requires a certain amplitude of lodging, which the other weevils do not require in the same degree. a pea provides it with a sufficiently spacious cell; nevertheless, the cohabitation of two in one pea would be impossible; there would be no room, even were the two to put up with a certain discomfort. hence the necessity of an inevitable decimation, which will suppress all the competitors save one. now the superior volume of the broad bean, which is almost as much beloved by the weevil as the pea, can lodge a considerable community, and the solitary can live as a cenobite. without encroaching on the domain of their neighbours, five or six or more can find room in the one bean. moreover, each grub can find its infant diet; that is, that layer which, remote from the surface, hardens only gradually and remains full of sap until a comparatively late period. this inner layer represents the crumb of a loaf, the rest of the bean being the crust. in the pea, a sphere of much less capacity, it occupies the central portion; a limited point at which the grub develops, and lacking which it perishes; but in the bean it lines the wide adjoining faces of the two flattened cotyledons. no matter where the point of attack is made, the grub has only to bore straight down when it quickly reaches the softer tissues. what is the result? i have counted the eggs adhering to a bean-pod and the beans included in the pod, and comparing the two figures i find that there is plenty of room for the whole family at the rate of five or six dwellers in each bean. no superfluous larvæ perish of hunger when barely issued from the egg; all have their share of the ample provision; all live and prosper. the abundance of food balances the prodigal fertility of the mother. if the bruchus were always to adopt the broad bean for the establishment of her family i could well understand the exuberant allowance of eggs to one pod; a rich food-stuff easily obtained evokes a large batch of eggs. but the case of the pea perplexes me. by what aberration does the mother abandon her children to starvation on this totally insufficient vegetable? why so many grubs to each pea when one pea is sufficient only for one grub? matters are not so arranged in the general balance-sheet of life. a certain foresight seems to rule over the ovary so that the number of mouths is in proportion to the abundance or scarcity of the food consumed. the scarabæus, the sphex, the necrophorus, and other insects which prepare and preserve alimentary provision for their families, are all of a narrowly limited fertility, because the balls of dung, the dead or paralysed insects, or the buried corpses of animals on which their offspring are nourished are provided only at the cost of laborious efforts. the ordinary bluebottle, on the contrary, which lays her eggs upon butcher's meat or carrion, lays them in enormous batches. trusting in the inexhaustible riches represented by the corpse, she is prodigal of offspring, and takes no account of numbers. in other cases the provision is acquired by audacious brigandage, which exposes the newly born offspring to a thousand mortal accidents. in such cases the mother balances the chances of destruction by an exaggerated flux of eggs. such is the case with the meloides, which, stealing the goods of others under conditions of the greatest peril, are accordingly endowed with a prodigious fertility. the bruchus knows neither the fatigues of the laborious, obliged to limit the size of her family, nor the misfortunes of the parasite, obliged to produce an exaggerated number of offspring. without painful search, entirely at her ease, merely moving in the sunshine over her favourite plant, she can ensure a sufficient provision for each of her offspring; she can do so, yet is foolish enough to over-populate the pod of the pea; a nursery insufficiently provided, in which the great majority will perish of starvation. this ineptitude is a thing i cannot understand: it clashes too completely with the habitual foresight of the maternal instinct. i am inclined to believe that the pea is not the original food plant of the bruchus. the original plant must rather have been the bean, one seed of which is capable of supporting half a dozen or more larvæ. with the larger cotyledon the crying disproportion between the number of eggs and the available provision disappears. moreover, it is indubitable that the bean is of earlier date than the pea. its exceptional size and its agreeable flavour would certainly have attracted the attention of man from the remotest periods. the bean is a ready-made mouthful, and would be of the greatest value to the hungry tribe. primitive man would at an early date have sown it beside his wattled hut. coming from central asia by long stages, their wagons drawn by shaggy oxen and rolling on the circular discs cut from the trunks of trees, the early immigrants would have brought to our virgin land, first the bean, then the pea, and finally the cereal, that best of safeguards against famine. they taught us the care of herds, and the use of bronze, the material of the first metal implement. thus the dawn of civilisation arose over france. with the bean did those ancient teachers also involuntarily bring us the insect which to-day disputes it with us? it is doubtful; the bruchidæ seem to be indigenous. at all events, i find them levying tribute from various indigenous plants, wild vegetables which have never tempted the appetite of man. they abound in particular upon the great forest vetch (_lathyrus latifolius_), with its magnificent heads of flowers and long handsome pods. the seeds are not large, being indeed smaller than the garden pea; but eaten to the very skin, as they invariably are, each is sufficient to the needs of its grub. we must not fail to note their number. i have counted more than twenty in a single pod, a number unknown in the case of the pea, even in the most prolific varieties. consequently this superb vetch is in general able to nourish without much loss the family confided to its pod. where the forest vetch is lacking, the bruchus, none the less, bestows its habitual prodigality of eggs upon another vegetable of similar flavour, but incapable of nourishing all the grubs: for the example, the travelling vetch (_vicia peregrina_) or the cultivated vetch (_vicia sativa_). the number of eggs remains high even upon insufficient pods, because the original food-plant offered a copious provision, both in the multiplicity and the size of the seeds. if the bruchus is really a stranger, let us regard the bean as the original food-plant; if indigenous, the large vetch. sometime in the remote past we received the pea, growing it at first in the prehistoric vegetable garden which already supplied the bean. it was found a better article of diet than the broad bean, which to-day, after such good service, is comparatively neglected. the weevil was of the same opinion as man, and without entirely forgetting the bean and the vetch it established the greater part of its tribe upon the pea, which from century to century was more widely cultivated. to-day we have to share our peas: the bruchidæ take what they need, and bestow their leavings on us. this prosperity of the insect which is the offspring of the abundance and quality of our garden products is from another point of view equivalent to decadence. for the weevil, as for ourselves, progress in matters of food and drink is not always beneficial. the race would profit better if it remained frugal. on the bean and the vetch the bruchus founded colonies in which the infant mortality was low. there was room for all. on the pea-vine, delicious though its fruits may be, the greater part of its offspring die of starvation. the rations are few, and the hungry mouths are multitudinous. we will linger over this problem no longer. let us observe the grub which has now become the sole tenant of the pea by the death of its brothers. it has had no part in their death; chance has favoured it, that is all. in the centre of the pea, a wealthy solitude, it performs the duty of a grub; the sole duty of eating. it nibbles the walls enclosing it, enlarging its lodgment, which is always entirely filled by its corpulent body. it is well shaped, fat, and shining with health. if i disturb it, it turns gently in its niche and sways its head. this is its manner of complaining of my importunities. let us leave it in peace. it profits so greatly and so swiftly by its position that by the time the dog-days have come it is already preparing for its approaching liberation. the adult is not sufficiently well equipped to open for itself a way out through the pea, which is now completely hardened. the larva knows of this future helplessness, and with consummate art provides for its release. with its powerful mandibles it bores a channel of exit, exactly round, with extremely clean-cut sides. the most skilful ivory-carver could do no better. to prepare the door of exit in advance is not enough; the grub must also provide for the tranquillity essential to the delicate processes of nymphosis. an intruder might enter by the open door and injure the helpless nymph. this passage must therefore remain closed. but how? as the grub bores the passage of exit it consumes the farinaceous matter without leaving a crumb. having come to the skin of the pea it stops short. this membrane, semi-translucid, is the door to the chamber of metamorphosis, its protection against the evil intentions of external creatures. it is also the only obstacle which the adult will encounter at the moment of exit. to lessen the difficulty of opening it the grub takes the precaution of gnawing at the inner side of the skin, all round the circumference, so as to make a line of least resistance. the perfect insect will only have to heave with its shoulder and strike a few blows with its head in order to raise the circular door and knock it off like the lid of a box. the passage of exit shows through the diaphanous skin of the pea as a large circular spot, which is darkened by the obscurity of the interior. what passes behind it is invisible, hidden as it is behind a sort of ground glass window. a pretty invention, this little closed porthole, this barricade against the invader, this trap-door raised by a push when the time has come for the hermit to enter the world. shall we credit it to the bruchus? did the ingenious insect conceive the undertaking? did it think out a plan and work out a scheme of its own devising? this would be no small triumph for the brain of a weevil. before coming to a conclusion let us try an experiment. i deprive certain occupied peas of their skin, and i dry them with abnormal rapidity, placing them in glass test-tubes. the grubs prosper as well as in the intact peas. at the proper time the preparations for emergence are made. if the grub acts on its own inspiration, if it ceases to prolong its boring directly it recognises that the outer coating, auscultated from time to time, is sufficiently thin, what will it do under the conditions of the present test? feeling itself at the requisite distance from the surface it will stop boring; it will respect the outer layer of the bare pea, and will thus obtain the indispensable protecting screen. nothing of the kind occurs. in every case the passage is completely excavated; the entrance gapes wide open, as large and as carefully executed as though the skin of the pea were in its place. reasons of security have failed to modify the usual method of work. this open lodging has no defence against the enemy; but the grub exhibits no anxiety on this score. neither is it thinking of the outer enemy when it bores down to the skin when the pea is intact, and then stops short. it suddenly stops because the innutritious skin is not to its taste. we ourselves remove the parchment-like skins from a mess of pease-pudding, as from a culinary point of view they are so much waste matter. the larva of the bruchus, like ourselves, dislikes the skin of the pea. it stops short at the horny covering, simply because it is checked by an uneatable substance. from this aversion a little miracle arises; but the insect has no sense of logic; it is passively obedient to the superior logic of facts. it obeys its instinct, as unconscious of its act as is a crystal when it assembles, in exquisite order, its battalions of atoms. sooner or later during the month of august we see a shadowy circle form on each inhabited pea; but only one on each seed. these circles of shadow mark the doors of exit. most of them open in september. the lid, as though cut out with a punch, detaches itself cleanly and falls to the ground, leaving the orifice free. the bruchus emerges, freshly clad, in its final form. the weather is delightful. flowers are abundant, awakened by the summer showers; and the weevils visit them in the lovely autumn weather. then, when the cold sets in, they take up their winter quarters in any suitable retreat. others, still numerous, are less hasty in quitting the native seed. they remain within during the whole winter, sheltered behind the trap-door, which they take care not to touch. the door of the cell will not open on its hinges, or, to be exact, will not yield along the line of least resistance, until the warm days return. then the late arrivals will leave their shelter and rejoin the more impatient, and both will be ready for work when the pea-vines are in flower. to take a general view of the instincts in their inexhaustible variety is, for the observer, the great attraction of the entomological world; for nowhere do we gain a clearer sight of the wonderful way in which the processes of life are ordered. thus regarded entomology is not, i know, to the taste of everybody; the simple creature absorbed in the doings and habits of insects is held in low esteem. to the terrible utilitarian, a bushel of peas preserved from the weevil is of more importance than a volume of observations which bring no immediate profit. yet who has told you, o man of little faith, that what is useless to-day will not be useful to-morrow? if we learn the customs of insects or animals we shall understand better how to protect our goods. do not despise disinterested knowledge, or you may rue the day. it is by the accumulation of ideas, whether immediately applicable or otherwise, that humanity has done, and will continue to do, better to-day than yesterday, and better to-morrow than to-day. if we live on peas and beans, which we dispute with the weevil, we also live by knowledge, that mighty kneading-trough in which the bread of progress is mixed and leavened. knowledge is well worth a few beans. among other things, knowledge tells us: "the seedsman need not go to the expense of waging war upon the weevil. when the peas arrive in the granary, the harm is already done; it is irreparable, but not transmissible. the untouched peas have nothing to fear from the neighbourhood of those which have been attacked, however long the mixture is left. from the latter the weevils will issue when their time has come; they will fly away from the storehouse if escape is possible; if not, they will perish without in any way attacking the sound peas. no eggs, no new generation will ever be seen upon or within the dried peas in the storehouse; there the adult weevil can work no further mischief." the bruchus is not a sedentary inhabitant of granaries: it requires the open air, the sun, the liberty of the fields. frugal in everything, it absolutely disdains the hard tissues of the vegetable; its tiny mouth is content with a few honeyed mouthfuls, enjoyed upon the flowers. the larvæ, on the other hand, require the tender tissues of the green pea growing in the pod. for these reasons the granary knows no final multiplication on the part of the despoiler. the origin of the evil is in the kitchen-garden. it is there that we ought to keep a watch on the misdeeds of the bruchus, were it not for the fact that we are nearly always weaponless when it comes to fighting an insect. indestructible by reason of its numbers, its small size, and its cunning, the little creature laughs at the anger of man. the gardener curses it, but the weevil is not disturbed: it imperturbably continues its trade of levying tribute. happily we have assistants more patient and more clear-sighted than ourselves. during the first week of august, when the mature bruchus begins to emerge, i notice a little chalcidian, the protector of our peas. in my rearing-cages it issues under my eyes in abundance from the peas infested by the grub of the weevil. the female has a reddish head and thorax; the abdomen is black, with a long augur-like oviscapt. the male, a little smaller, is black. both sexes have reddish claws and thread-like antennæ. in order to escape from the pea the slayer of the weevil makes an opening in the centre of the circular trap-door which the grub of the weevil prepared in view of its future deliverance. the slain has prepared the way for the slayer. after this detail the rest may be divined. when the preliminaries to the metamorphosis are completed, when the passage of escape is bored and furnished with its lid of superficial membrane, the female chalcidian arrives in a busy mood. she inspects the peas, still on the vine, and enclosed in their pods; she auscultates them with her antennæ; she discovers, hidden under the general envelope, the weak points in the epidermic covering of the peas. then, applying her oviscapt, she thrusts it through the side of the pod and perforates the circular trap-door. however far withdrawn into the centre of the pea, the bruchus, whether larvæ or nymph, is reached by the long oviduct. it receives an egg in its tender flesh, and the thing is done. without possibility of defence, since it is by now a somnolent grub or a helpless pupa, the embryo weevil is eaten until nothing but skin remains. what a pity that we cannot at will assist the multiplication of this eager exterminator! alas! our assistants have got us in a vicious circle, for if we wished to obtain the help of any great number of chalcidians we should be obliged in the first place to breed a multiplicity of bruchidæ. chapter xix an invader.--the haricot-weevil if there is one vegetable on earth that more than any other is a gift of the gods, it is the haricot bean. it has all the virtues: it forms a soft paste upon the tongue; it is extremely palatable, abundant, inexpensive, and highly nutritious. it is a vegetable meat which, without being bloody and repulsive, is the equivalent of the horrors outspread upon the butcher's slab. to recall its services the more emphatically, the provençal idiom calls it the _gounflo-gus_--the filler of the poor. blessed bean, consoler of the wretched, right well indeed do you fill the labourer, the honest, skilful worker who has drawn a low number in the crazy lottery of life. kindly haricot, with three drops of oil and a dash of vinegar you were the favourite dish of my young years; and even now, in the evening of my days, you are welcome to my humble porringer. we shall be friends to the last. to-day it is not my intention to sing your merits; i wish simply to ask you a question, being curious: what is the country of your origin? did you come from central asia with the broad bean and the pea? did you make part of that collection of seeds which the first pioneers of culture brought us from their gardens? were you known to antiquity? here the insect, an impartial and well-informed witness, answers: "no; in our country antiquity was not acquainted with the haricot. the precious vegetable came hither by the same road as the broad bean. it is a foreigner, and of comparatively recent introduction into europe." the reply of the insect merits serious examination, supported as it is by extremely plausible arguments. here are the facts. for years attentive to matters agricultural, i had never seen haricots attacked by any insect whatever; not even by the bruchidæ, the licensed robbers of leguminous seeds. on this point i have questioned my peasant neighbours. they are men of the extremest vigilance in all that concerns their crops. to steal their property is an abominable crime, swiftly discovered. moreover, the housewife, who individually examines all beans intended for the saucepan, would inevitably find the malefactor. all those i have spoken to replied to my questions with a smile in which i read their lack of faith in my knowledge of insects. "sir," they said, "you must know that there are never grubs in the haricot bean. it is a blessed vegetable, respected by the weevil. the pea, the broad bean, the vetch, and the chick-pea all have their vermin; but the haricot, _lou gounflo-gus_, never. what should we do, poor folk as we are, if the _courcoussoun_ robbed us of it?" the fact is that the weevil despises the haricot; a very curious dislike if we consider how industriously the other vegetables of the same family are attacked. all, even the beggarly lentil, are eagerly exploited; whilst the haricot, so tempting both as to size and flavour, remains untouched. it is incomprehensible. why should the bruchus, which without hesitation passes from the excellent to the indifferent, and from the indifferent to the excellent, disdain this particularly toothsome seed? it leaves the forest vetch for the pea, and the pea for the broad bean, as pleased with the small as with the large, yet the temptations of the haricot bean leave it indifferent. why? apparently because the haricot is unknown to it. the other leguminous plants, whether native or of oriental origin, have been familiar to it for centuries; it has tested their virtues year by year, and, confiding in the lessons of the past, it bases its forethought for the future upon ancient custom. the haricot is avoided as a newcomer, whose merits it has not yet learned. the insect emphatically informs us that with us the haricot is of recent date. it has come to us from a distant country: and assuredly from the new world. every edible vegetable attracts its consumers. if it had originated in the old world the haricot would have had its licensed consumers, as have the pea, the lentil, and the broad bean. the smallest leguminous seed, if barely bigger than a pin's head, nourishes its weevil; a dwarf which patiently nibbles it and excavates a dwelling; but the plump, delicious haricot is spared. this astonishing immunity can have only one explanation: like the potato and the maize-plant, the haricot is a gift of the new world. it arrived in europe without the company of the insect which exploits it in its native country; it has found in our fields another world of insects, which have despised it because they did not know it. similarly the potato and the ear of maize are untouched in france unless their american consumers are accidentally imported with them. the verdict of the insect is confirmed by the negative testimony of the ancient classics; the haricot never appears on the table of the greek or roman peasant. in the second eclogue of virgil thestylis prepares the repast of the harvesters:- thestylis et rapido fessis messoribus æstu allia serpyllumque herbas contundit olentes. this mixture is the equivalent of the _aïoli_, dear to the provençal palate. it sounds very well in verse, but is not very substantial. on such an occasion men would look for that fundamental dish, the plate of red haricots, seasoned with chopped onions. all in good time; this at least would ballast the stomach. thus refreshed in the open air, listening to the song of the cigales, the gang of harvesters would take their mid-day rest and gently digest their meal in the shadows of the sheaves. our modern thestylis, differing little from her classic sister, would take good care not to forget the _gounflo-gus_, that economical resource of large appetites. the thestylis of the past did not think of providing it because she did not know it. the same author shows us tityrus offering a night's hospitality to his friend meliboeus, who has been driven from his property by the soldiers of octavius, and goes limping behind his flock of goats. we shall have, says tityrus, chestnuts, cheese, and fruits. history does not say if meliboeus allowed himself to be tempted. it is a pity; for during the frugal meal we might have learned in a more explicit fashion that the shepherds of the ancient world were not acquainted with the haricot. ovid tells us, in a delightful passage, of the manner in which philemon and baucis received the gods unawares as guests in their humble cottage. on the three-legged table, which was levelled by means of a potsherd under one of the legs, they served cabbage soup, rusty bacon, eggs poached for a minute in the hot cinders, cornel-berries pickled in brine, honey, and fruits. in this rustic abundance one dish was lacking; an essential dish, which the baucis of our countryside would never forget. after bacon soup would follow the obligatory plate of haricots. why did ovid, so prodigal of detail, neglect to mention a dish so appropriate to the occasion? the reply is the same as before: because he did not know of it. in vain have i recapitulated all that my reading has taught me concerning the rustic dietary of ancient times; i can recollect no mention of the haricot. the worker in the vineyard and the harvester have their lupins, broad beans, peas, and lentils, but never the bean of beans, the haricot. the haricot has a reputation of another kind. it is a source of flatulence; you eat it, as the saying is, and then you take a walk. it lends itself to the gross pleasantries loved of the populace; especially when they are formulated by the shameless genius of an aristophanes or a plautus. what merriment over a simple allusion to the sonorous bean, what guffaws from the throats of athenian sailors or roman porters! did the two masters, in the unfettered gaiety of a language less reserved than our own, ever mention the virtues of the haricot? no; they are absolutely silent concerning the trumpet-voiced vegetable. the name of the bean is a matter for reflection. it is of an unfamiliar sound, having no affinity with our language. by its unlikeness to our native combinations of sounds, it makes one think of the west indies or south america, as do _caoutchouc_ and _cacao_. does the word as a matter of fact come from the american indians? did we receive, together with the vegetable, the name by which it is known in its native country? perhaps; but how are we to know? haricot, fantastic haricot, you set us a curious philological problem. it is also known in french as _faséole_, or _flageolet_. the provençal calls it _faioù_ and _favioù_; the catalan, _fayol_; the spaniard, _faseolo_; the portuguese, _feyâo_; the italian, _fagiuolo_. here i am on familiar ground: the languages of the latin family have preserved, with the inevitable modifications, the ancient word _faseolus_. now, if i consult my dictionary i find: _faselus_, _faseolus_, _phaseolus_, haricot. learned lexicographer, permit me to remark that your translation is incorrect: _faselus_, _faseolus_ cannot mean haricot. the incontestable proof is in the georgics, where virgil tells us at what season we must sow the _faselus_. he says:- si vero viciamque seres vilemque faselum ... haud obscura cadens mittet tibi signa bootes; incipe, et ad medias sementem extende pruinas. nothing is clearer than the precept of the poet who was so admirably familiar with all matters agricultural; the sowing of the _faselus_ must be commenced when the constellation of bootes disappears at the set of sun, that is, in october; and it is to be continued until the middle of the winter. these conditions put the haricot out of the running: it is a delicate plant, which would never survive the lightest frost. winter would be fatal to it, even under italian skies. more refractory to cold on account of the country of their origin, peas, broad beans, and vetches, and other leguminous plants have nothing to fear from an autumn sowing, and prosper during the winter provided the climate be fairly mild. what then is represented by the _faselus_ of the georgics, that problematical vegetable which has transmitted its name to the haricot in the latin tongues? remembering that the contemptuous epithet _vilis_ is used by the poet in qualification, i am strongly inclined to regard it as the cultivated vetch, the big square pea, the little-valued _jaïsso_ of the provençal peasant. the problem of the haricot stood thus, almost elucidated by the testimony of the insect world alone, when an unexpected witness gave me the last word of the enigma. it was once again a poet, and a famous poet, m. josé-maria de heredia, who came to the aid of the naturalist. without suspecting the service he was rendering, a friend of mine, the village schoolmaster, lent me a magazine[9] in which i read the following conversation between the master-sonneteer and a lady journalist, who was anxious to know which of his own works he preferred. "what would you have me say?" said the poet. "i do not know what to say, i do not know which sonnet i prefer; i have taken horrible pains with all of them.... but you, which do you prefer?" "my dear master, how can i choose out of so many jewels, when each one is perfect in its beauty? you flash pearls, emeralds, and rubies before my astonished eyes: how should i decide to prefer the emerald to the pearl? i am transported by admiration of the whole necklace." "well, as for me, there is something i am more proud of than of all my sonnets, and which has done much more for my reputation than my verses." i opened my eyes wide, "what is that?" i asked. the master looked at me mischievously; then, with that beautiful light in his eyes which fires his youthful countenance, he said triumphantly-"it is my discovery of the etymology of the word haricot!" i was so amazed that i forgot to laugh. "i am perfectly serious in telling you this." "i know, my dear master, of your reputation for profound scholarship: but to imagine, on that account, that you were famed for your discovery of the etymology of haricot--i should never have expected it! will you tell me how you made the discovery?" "willingly. see now: i found some information respecting the haricot while studying that fine seventeenth-century work of natural history by hernandez: _de historia plantarum novi orbis_. the word haricot was unknown in france until the seventeenth century: people used the word _feve_ or _phaséol_: in mexican, _ayacot_. thirty species of haricot were cultivated in mexico before the conquest. they are still known as _ayacot_, especially the red haricot, spotted with black or violet. one day at the house of gaston paris i met a famous scholar. hearing my name, he rushed at me and asked if it was i who had discovered the etymology of the word haricot. he was absolutely ignorant of the fact that i had written verses and published the _trophées_."-a very pretty whim, to count the jewellery of his famous sonnets as second in importance to the nomenclature of a vegetable! i in my turn was delighted with his _ayacot_. how right i was to suspect the outlandish word of american indian origin! how right the insect was, in testifying, in its own fashion, that the precious bean came to us from the new world! while still retaining its original name--or something sufficiently like it--the bean of montezuma, the aztec _ayacot_, has migrated from mexico to the kitchen-gardens of europe. but it has reached us without the company of its licensed consumer; for there must assuredly be a weevil in its native country which levies tribute on its nourishing tissues. our native bean-eaters have mistaken the stranger; they have not had time as yet to grow familiar with it, or to appreciate its merits; they have prudently abstained from touching the _ayacot_, whose novelty awoke suspicion. until our own days the mexican bean remained untouched: unlike our other leguminous seeds, which are all eagerly exploited by the weevil. this state of affairs could not last. if our own fields do not contain the insect amateur of the haricot the new world knows it well enough. by the road of commercial exchange, sooner or later some worm-eaten sack of haricots must bring it to europe. the invasion is inevitable. according to documents now before me, indeed, it has already taken place. three or four years ago i received from maillane, in the bouches-du-rhône, what i sought in vain in my own neighbourhood, although i questioned many a farmer and housewife, and astonished them by my questions. no one had ever seen the pest of the haricot; no one had ever heard of it. friends who knew of my inquiries sent me from maillane, as i have said, information that gave great satisfaction to my naturalist's curiosity. it was accompanied by a measure of haricots which were utterly and outrageously spoiled; every bean was riddled with holes, changed into a kind of sponge. within them swarmed innumerable weevils, which recalled, by their diminutive size, the lentil-weevil, _bruchus lenti_. the senders told me of the loss experienced at maillane. the odious little creature, they said, had destroyed the greater portion of the harvest. a veritable plague, such as had never before been known, had fallen upon the haricots, leaving the housewife barely a handful to put in the saucepan. of the habits of the creature and its way of going to work nothing was known. it was for me to discover them by means of experiment. quick, then, let us experiment! the circumstances favour me. we are in the middle of june, and in my garden there is a bed of early haricots; the black belgian haricots, sown for use in the kitchen. since i must sacrifice the toothsome vegetable, let us loose the terrible destroyer on the mass of verdure. the development of the plant is at the requisite stage, if i may go by what the _bruchus pisi_ has already taught me; the flowers are abundant, and the pods are equally so; still green, and of all sizes. i place on a plate two or three handfuls of the infested haricots, and set the populous heap in the full sunlight by the edge of my bed of beans. i can imagine what will happen. those insects which are already free, and those which the stimulus of the sunshine will presently liberate, will emerge and take to their wings. finding the maternal haricot close at hand they will take possession of the vines. i shall see them exploring pods and flowers, and before very long they will lay their eggs. that is how the pea-weevil would behave under similar conditions. but no: to my surprise and confusion, matters do not fall out as i foresaw. for a few minutes the insects bustle about in the sunlight, opening and closing their wing-covers to ease the mechanism of flight; then one by one they fly away, mounting in the luminous air; they grow smaller and smaller to the sight, and are quickly lost to view. my persevering attentions have not met with the slightest success; not one of the weevils has settled on my haricots. when the joys of liberty have been tasted will they return--to-night, to-morrow, or later? no, they do not return. all that week, at favourable hours, i inspect the rows of beans pod by pod, flower by flower; but never a bruchus do i see, nor even an egg. yet the season is propitious, for at this very moment the mothers imprisoned in my jars lay a profusion of eggs upon the dry haricots. next season i try again. i have at my disposal two other beds, which i have sown with the late haricot, the red haricot; partly for the use of the household, but principally for the benefit of the weevil. arranged in convenient rows, the two crops will be ready, one in august and one in september or later. with the red haricot i repeat the experiment already essayed with the black haricot. on several occasions, in suitable weather, i release large numbers of weevils from my glass jars, the general headquarters of the tribe. on each occasion the result is plainly negative. all through the season, until both crops are exhausted, i repeat my search almost daily; but i can never discover a single pod infested, nor even a single weevil perching on leaf or flower. certainly the inspection has not been at fault. the household is warned to respect certain rows of beans which i have reserved for myself. it is also requested to keep a look-out for eggs on all the pods gathered. i myself examine with a magnifying-glass all the haricots coming from my own or from neighbouring gardens before handing them over to the housewife to be shelled. all my trouble is wasted: there is not an egg to be seen. to these experiments in the open air i add others performed under glass. i place, in some tall, narrow bottles, fresh haricot pods hanging from their stems; some green, others mottled with crimson, and containing seeds not far from mature. each bottle is finally given a population of weevils. this time i obtain some eggs, but i am no further advanced; they are laid on the sides of the bottles, but not on the pods. nevertheless, they hatch. for a few days i see the grubs wandering about, exploring the pods and the glass with equal zeal. finally one and all perish without touching the food provided. the conclusion to be drawn from these facts is obvious: the young and tender haricot is not the proper diet. unlike the _bruchus pisi_, the female of the haricot-weevil refuses to trust her family to beans that are not hardened by age and desiccation; she refused to settle on my bean-patch because the food she required was not to be found there. what does she require? evidently the mature, dry, hard haricot, which falls to earth with the sound of a small pebble. i hasten to satisfy her. i place in the bottles some very mature, horny pods, thoroughly desiccated by exposure to the sun. this time the family prospers, the grubs perforate the dry shell, reach the beans, penetrate them, and henceforth all goes well. to judge by appearances, then, the weevil invades the granary. the beans are left standing in the fields until both plants and pods, shrivelled by the sun, are completely desiccated. the process of beating the pods to loosen and separate the beans is thus greatly facilitated. it is then that the weevil, finding matters to suit her, commences to lay her eggs. by storing his crop a little late the peasant stores the pest as well. but the weevil more especially attacks the haricot when warehoused. like the calander-beetle, which nibbles the wheat in our granaries but despises the cereal while still on the stalk, it abhors the bean while tender, and prefers to establish itself in the peace and darkness of the storehouse. it is a formidable enemy to the merchant rather than to the peasant. what a fury of destruction once the ravager is installed in the vegetable treasure-house! my bottles give abundant evidence of this. one single haricot bean shelters a numerous family; often as many as twenty members. and not one generation only exploits the bean, but three or four in the year. so long as the skin of the bean contains any edible matter, so long do new consumers establish themselves within it, so that the haricot finally becomes a mere shell stuffed with excreta. the skin, despised by the grubs, is a mere sac, pierced with holes as many as the inhabitants that have deserted it; the ruin is complete. the _bruchus pisi_, a solitary hermit, consumes only so much of the pea as will leave a cell for the nymph; the rest remains intact, so that the pea may be sown, or it will even serve as food, if we can overcome our repugnance. the american insect knows nothing of these limitations; it empties the haricot completely and leaves a skinful of filth that i have seen the pigs refuse. america is anything but considerate when she sends us her entomological pests. we owe the phylloxera to america; the phylloxera, that calamitous insect against which our vine-growers wage incessant war: and to-day she is sending us the haricot-weevil, which threatens to be a plague of the future. a few experiments gave me some idea of the peril of such an invasion. for nearly three years there have stood, on my laboratory table, some dozens of jars and bottles covered with pieces of gauze which prevent escape while permitting of a constant ventilation. these are the cages of my menagerie. in them i rear the haricot-weevil, varying the system of education at will. amongst other things i have learned that this insect, far from being exclusive in its choice, will accommodate itself to most of our leguminous foods. all the haricots suit it, black and white, red and variegated, large and small; those of the latest crop and those which have been many years in stock and are almost completely refractory to boiling water. the loose beans are attacked by preference, as being easier to invade, but when the loose beans are not available those in the natural shelter of their pods are attacked with equal zest. however dry and parchment-like the pods, the grubs have no difficulty in attaining the seeds. when attacked in the field or garden, the bean is attacked in this way through the pod. the bean known in provence as the blind haricot--_lou faioù borgné_--a bean with a long pod, which is marked with a black spot at the navel, which has the look of a closed and blackened eye, is also greatly appreciated; indeed, i fancy my little guests show an obvious preference for this particular bean. so far, nothing abnormal; the bruchus does not wander beyond the limits of the botanical family _phaseolus_. but here is a characteristic that increases the peril, and shows us this lover of beans in an unexpected light. without the slightest hesitation it accepts the dry pea, the bean, the vetch, the tare, and the chick-pea; it goes from one to the other, always satisfied; its offspring live and prosper in all these seeds as well as in the haricot. only the lentil is refused, perhaps on account of its insufficient volume. the american weevil is a formidable experimentalist. the peril would be much greater did the insect pass from leguminous seeds to cereals, as at first i feared it might. but it does not do so; imprisoned in my bottles together with a handful of wheat, barley, rice, or maize, the bruchus invariably perished and left no offspring. the result was the same with oleaginous seeds: such as castor-oil and sunflower. nothing outside the bean family is of any use to the bruchus. thus limited, its portion is none the less considerable, and it uses and abuses it with the utmost energy. the eggs are white, slender, and cylindrical. there is no method in their distribution, no choice in their deposition. the mother lays them singly or in little groups, on the walls of the jar as well as on the haricots. in her negligence she will even lay them on maize, coffee, castor-oil seeds, and other seeds, on which the newly born grubs will promptly perish, not finding them to their taste. what place has maternal foresight here? abandoned no matter where in the heap of seeds, the eggs are always in place, as it is left to the grub to search and to find the points of invasion. in five days at most the egg is hatched. a little white creature with a red-brown head emerges. it is a mere speck of a creature, just visible to the naked eye. its body is thickened forward, to give more strength to its implements--its mandibles--which have to perforate the hard substance of the dry bean, which is as tough as wood. the larvæ of the buprestis and the capricornis, which burrow in the trunks of trees, are similarly shaped. directly it issues from the egg the wriggling creature makes off at random with an activity we should hardly expect in one so young. it wanders hither and thither, eager to find food and shelter as soon as possible. within twenty-four hours it has usually attained both. i see the tiny grub perforate the horny skin that covers the cotyledons; i watch its efforts; i surprise it sunk half-way in the commencement of a burrow, at the mouth of which is a white floury powder, the waste from the mandibles. it works its way inward and buries itself in the heart of the seed. it will emerge in the adult form in the course of about five weeks, so rapid is its evolution. this hasty development allows of several generations in the year. i have recorded four. on the other hand, one isolated couple has furnished me with a family of eighty. consider only the half of this number--supposing the sexes to be equal in number--and at the end of a year the couples issued from this original pair would be represented by the fortieth power of forty; in larvæ they would represent the frightful total of more than five millions. what a mountain of haricots would be ravaged by such a legion! the industry of the larvæ reminds us at every point what we have learned from the _bruchus pisi_. each grub excavates a lodging in the mass of the bean, respecting the epidermis, and preparing a circular trap-door which the adult can easily open with a push at the moment of emergence. at the termination of the larval phase the lodgements are betrayed on the surface of the bean by so many shadowy circles. finally the lid falls, the insect leaves its cell, and the haricot remains pierced by as many holes as it has nourished grubs. extremely frugal, satisfied with a little farinaceous powder, the adults seem by no means anxious to abandon the native heap or bin so long as there are beans untouched. they mate in the interstices of the heap; the mothers sow their eggs at random; the young larvæ establish themselves some in beans that are so far intact, some in beans which are perforated but not yet exhausted; and all through the summer the operations of breeding are repeated once in every five weeks. the last generation of the year--that of september or october--sleeps in its cells until the warm weather returns. if the haricot pest were ever to threaten us seriously it would not be very difficult to wage a war of extermination against it. its habits teach us what tactics we ought to follow. it exploits the dried and gathered crop in the granary or the storehouse. if it is difficult to attack it in the open it would also be useless. the greater part of its affairs are managed elsewhere, in our storehouses. the enemy establishes itself under our roof and is ready to our hand. by means of insecticides defence should be relatively easy. chapter xx the grey locust i have just witnessed a moving spectacle: the last moult of a locust; the emergence of the adult from its larval envelope. it was magnificent. i am speaking of the grey locust, the colossus among our acridians,[10] which is often seen among the vines in september when the grapes are gathered. by its size--and it grows as long as a man's finger--it lends itself to observation better than any other of its tribe. the larva, disgustingly fat, like a rude sketch of the perfect insect, is commonly of a tender green; but it is sometimes of a bluish green, a dirty yellow, or a ruddy brown, or even an ashen grey, like the grey of the adult cricket. the corselet is strongly keeled and indented, and is sprinkled with fine white spots. as powerful as in the adult insect, the hind-leg has a corpulent haunch, streaked with red, and a long shin like a two-edged saw. the elytra, which in a few days will extend far beyond the tip of the abdomen, are at present too small triangular wing-like appendages, touching along their upper edges, and continuing and emphasising the keel or ridge of the corselet. their free ends stick up like the gable of a house. they remind one of the skirts of a coat, the maker of which has been ludicrously stingy with the cloth, as they merely cover the creature's nakedness at the small of the back. underneath there are two narrow appendages, the germs of the wings, which are even smaller than the elytra. the sumptuous, elegant sails of to-morrow are now mere rags, so miserly in their dimensions as to be absolutely grotesque. what will emerge from these miserable coverings? a miracle of grace and amplitude. let us observe the whole process in detail. feeling itself ripe for transformation, the insect climbs up the wire-gauze cover by means of its hinder and intermediate limbs. the fore-limbs are folded and crossed on the breast, and are not employed in supporting the insect, which hangs in a reversed position, the back downwards. the triangular winglets, the sheaths of the elytra, open along their line of juncture and separate laterally; the two narrow blades, which contain the wings, rise in the centre of the interval and slightly diverge. the proper position for the process of moulting has now been assumed and the proper stability assured. the first thing to do is to burst the old skin. behind the corselet, under the pointed roof of the prothorax, a series of pulsations is produced by alternate inflation and deflation. a similar state of affairs is visible in front of the neck, and probably under the entire surface of the yielding carapace. the fineness of the membrane at the articulations enables us to perceive it at these unarmoured points, but the cuirass of the corselet conceals it in the central portion. at these points the circulatory reserves of the insect are pulsing in tidal onsets. their gradual increase is betrayed by pulsations like those of a hydraulic ram. distended by this rush of humours, by this injection in which the organism concentrates all its forces, the outer skin finally splits along the line of least resistance which the subtle previsions of life have prepared. the fissure extends the whole length of the corselet, opening precisely along the ridge of the keel, as though the two symmetrical halves had been soldered together. unbreakable elsewhere, the envelope has yielded at this median point, which had remained weaker than the rest of the sheath. the fissure runs back a little way until it reaches a point between the attachments of the wings; on the head it runs forward as far as the base of the antennæ, when it sends a short ramification right and left. through this breach the back is seen; quite soft, and very pale, with scarcely a tinge of grey. slowly it curves upwards and becomes more and more strongly hunched; at last it is free. the head follows, withdrawing itself from its mask, which remains in place, intact in the smallest detail, but looking very strange with its great unseeing glassy eyes. the sheaths of the antennæ, without a wrinkle, without the least derangement, and in their natural place, hang over this dead, translucid face. in emerging from their narrow sheaths, which clasped them so tightly and precisely, the thread-like antennæ have evidently met with no resistance, or the sheaths would have been turned inside out, or crumpled out of shape, or wrinkled at least. without harming the jointed or knotted covers, the contents, of equal volume and equally knotty, have slipped out as easily as though they were smooth, slippery objects sliding out of a loose sheath. the method of extraction is still more astonishing in the case of the hind-legs. it is now, however, the turn of the front and intermediate pairs of legs. they pull out of their gauntlets and leggings without the least hitch; nothing is torn, nothing buckled; the outer skin is not even crumpled, and all the tissues remain in their natural position. the insect is now hanging from the dome of the cover solely by the claws of the long hind-legs. it hangs in an almost vertical position, the head downwards, swinging like a pendulum if i touch the cover. four tiny, steely claws are its only support. if they gave or unclasped themselves the insect would be lost, as it is as yet unable to unfurl its enormous wings; but even had the wings emerged they could not grip the air in time to save the creature from the consequences of a fall. but the four claws hold fast; life, before withdrawing from them, left them rigidly contracted, so that they should support without yielding the struggles and withdrawals to follow. now the wing-covers and wings emerge. these are four narrow strips, vaguely seamed and furrowed, like strings of rolled tissue-paper. they are barely a quarter of their final length. they are so soft that they bend under their own weight, and hang down the creature's sides in the reverse of their normal position. the free extremities, which normally point backwards, are now pointing towards the cricket's head as it hangs reversed. the organs of future flight are like four leaves of withered foliage shattered by a terrific rainstorm. a profound transformation is necessary to bring the wings to their final perfection. the inner changes are already at work; liquids are solidifying; albuminous secretions are bringing order out of chaos; but so far no outward sign betrays what is happening in the mysterious laboratory of the organism. all seems inert and lifeless. in the meantime the posterior limbs disengage themselves. the great haunches become visible, streaked on the inner faces with a pale rose, which rapidly turns to a vivid crimson. emergence is easy, the thick and muscular upper portion of the haunch preparing the way for the narrower part of the limb. it is otherwise with the shank. this, in the adult insect, is armed along its whole length by a double series of stiff, steely spines. moreover, the lower extremity is terminated by four strong spurs. the shank forms a veritable saw, but with two parallel sets of teeth; and it is so strongly made that it may well be compared, the question of size apart, to the great saw of a quarry-man. the shank of the larva has the same structure, so that the object to be extracted is enclosed in a scabbard as awkwardly shaped as itself. each spur is enclosed in a similar spur; each tooth engages in the hollow of a similar tooth, and the sheath is so closely moulded upon the shank that a no more intimate contact could be obtained by replacing the envelope by a layer of varnish applied with a brush. nevertheless the tibia, long and narrow as it is, issues from its sheath without catching or sticking anywhere. if i had not repeatedly seen the operation i could not believe it possible; for the discarded sheath is absolutely intact from end to end. neither the terminal spurs nor the double rows of spines do the slightest damage to the delicate mould. the long-toothed saw leaves the delicate sheath unbroken, although a puff of the breath is enough to tear it; the ferocious spurs slip out of it without leaving so much as a scratch. i was far from expecting such a result. having the spiny weapons of the legs in mind, i imagined that those limbs would moult in scales and patches, or that the sheathing would rub off like a dead scarf-skin. how completely the reality surpassed my anticipations! from the spurs and spines of the sheath, which is as thin as the finest gold-beaters' skin, the spurs and spines of the leg, which make it a most formidable weapon, capable of cutting a piece of soft wood, emerge without the slightest display of violence, without a hitch of any kind; and the empty skin remains in place. still clinging by its claws to the top of the wire cover, it is untorn, unwrinkled, uncreased. even the magnifying-glass fails to show a trace of rough usage. such as the skin was before the cricket left it, so it is now. the legging of dead skin remains in its smallest details the exact replica of the living limb. if any one asked you to extract a saw from a scabbard exactly moulded upon the steel, and to conduct the operation without the slightest degree of tearing or scratching, you would laugh at the flagrant impossibility of the task. but life makes light of such absurdities; it has its methods of performing the impossible when such methods are required. the leg of the locust affords us such an instance. hard as it is when once free of its sheath, the serrated tibia would absolutely refuse to leave the latter, so closely does it fit, unless it were torn to pieces. yet the difficulty must be evaded, for it is indispensable that the sheaths of the legs should remain intact, in order to afford a firm support until the insect is completely extricated. the leg in process of liberation is not the leg with which the locust makes its leaps; it has not as yet the rigidity which it will soon acquire. it is soft, and eminently flexible. in those portions which the progress of the moult exposes to view i see the legs bend under the mere weight of the suspended insect when i tilt the supporting cover. they are as flexible as two strips of elastic indiarubber. yet even now consolidation is progressing, for in a few minutes the proper rigidity will be acquired. further along the limbs, in the portions which the sheathing still conceals, the legs are certainly softer still, and in the state of exquisite plasticity--i had almost said fluidity--which allows them to pass through narrow passages almost as a liquid flows. the teeth of the saws are already there, but have nothing of their imminent rigidity. with the point of a pen-knife i can partially uncover a leg and extract the spines from their serrated mould. they are germs of spines; flexible buds which bend under the slightest pressure and resume their position the moment the pressure is removed. these needles point backwards as the leg is drawn out of the sheath; but they re-erect themselves and solidify as they emerge. i am witnessing not the mere removal of leggings from limbs already clad in finished armour, but a kind of creation which amazes one by its promptitude. very much in the same way, but with far less delicate precision, the claws of the crayfish, at the period of the moult, withdraw the soft flesh of their double fingers from their stony sheath. finally the long stilt-like legs are free. they are folded gently against the furrowed thighs, thus to mature undisturbed. the abdomen begins to emerge. its fine tunic-like covering splits, and wrinkles, but still encloses the extremity of the abdomen, which adheres to the moulted skin for some little time longer. with the exception of this one point the entire insect is now uncovered. it hangs head downwards, like a pendulum, supported by the talons of the now empty leg-cases. during the whole of the lengthy and meticulous process the four talons have never yielded. the whole operation has been conducted with the utmost delicacy and prudence. the insect hangs motionless, held by the tip of the abdomen. the abdomen is disproportionately distended; swollen, apparently, by the reserve of organisable humours which the expansion of the wings and wing-covers will presently employ. meanwhile the creature rests and recovers from its exertions. twenty minutes of waiting elapse. then, exerting the muscles of the back, the suspended insect raises itself and fixes the talons of the anterior limbs in the empty skin above it. never did acrobat, hanging by the toes to the bar of a trapeze, raise himself with so stupendous a display of strength in the loins. this gymnastic feat accomplished, the rest is easy. with the purchase thus obtained the insect rises a little and reaches the wire gauze, the equivalent of the twig which would be chosen for the site of the transformation in the open fields. it holds to this with the four anterior limbs. then the tip of the abdomen is finally liberated, and suddenly, shaken by the final struggle, the empty skin falls to the ground. this fall is interesting, and reminds me of the persistence with which the empty husk of the cigale braves the winds of winter, without falling from its supporting twig. the transfiguration of the locust takes place very much as does that of the cigale. how is it then that the acridian trusts to a hold so easily broken? the talons of the skin hold firmly so long as the labour of escape continues, although one would expect it to shake the firmest grip; yet they yield at the slightest shock when the labour is terminated. there is evidently a condition of highly unstable equilibrium; showing once more with what delicate precision the insect escapes from its sheath. for want of a better term i said "escape." but the word is ill chosen; for it implies a certain amount of violence, and no violence must be employed, on account of the instability of equilibrium already mentioned. if the insect, shaken by a sudden effort, were to lose its hold, it would be all up with it. it would slowly shrivel on the spot; or at best its wings, unable to expand, would remain as miserable scraps of tissue. the locust does not tear itself away from its sheath; it delicately insinuates itself out of it--i had almost said flows. it is as though it were expelled by a gentle pressure. let us return to the wings and elytra, which have made no apparent progress since their emergence from their sheaths. they are still mere stumps, with fine longitudinal seams; almost like little ropes'-ends. their expansion, which will occupy more than three hours, is reserved for the end, when the insect is completely moulted and in its normal position. we have just seen the insect turn head uppermost. this reversal causes the wings and elytra to fall into their natural position. extremely flexible, and yielding to their own weight, they had previously drooped backwards with their free extremities pointing towards the head of the insect as it hung reversed. now, still by reason of their own weight, their position is rectified and they point in the normal direction. they are no longer curved like the petals of a flower; they no longer point the wrong way; but they retain the same miserable aspect. in its perfect state the wing is like a fan. a radiating bundle of strong nervures runs through it in the direction of its length and forms the framework of the fan, which is readily furled and unfurled. the intervals are crossed by innumerable cross-nervures of slighter substance, which make of the whole a network of rectangular meshes. the elytrum, which is heavier and much less extensive, repeats this structure. at present nothing of this mesh-work is visible. nothing can be seen but a few wrinkles, a few flexuous furrows, which announce that the stumps are bundles of tissue cunningly folded and reduced to the smallest possible volume. the expansion of the wing begins near the shoulder. where nothing precise could be distinguished at the outset we soon perceive a diaphanous surface subdivided into meshes of beautiful precision. little by little, with a deliberation that escapes the magnifier, this area increases its bounds, at the expense of the shapeless bundle at the end of the wing. in vain i let my eyes rest on the spot where the expanding network meets the still shapeless bundle; i can distinguish nothing. but wait a little, and the fine-meshed tissues will appear with perfect distinctness. to judge from this first examination, one would guess that an organisable fluid is rapidly congealing into a network of nervures; one seems to be watching a process of crystallisation comparable, in its rapidity, to that of a saturated saline solution as seen through a microscope. but no; this is not what is actually happening. life does not do its work so abruptly. i detach a half-developed wing and bring it under the powerful eye of the microscope. this time i am satisfied. on the confines of the transparent network, where an extension of that network seems to be gradually weaving itself out of nothing, i can see that the meshes are really already in existence. i can plainly recognise the longitudinal nervures, which are already stiff; and i can also see--pale, and without relief--the transverse nervures. i find them all in the terminal stump, and am able to spread out a few of its folds under the microscope. it is obvious that the wing is not a tissue in the process of making, through which the procreative energy of the vital juices is shooting its shuttle; it is a tissue already complete. to be perfect it lacks only expansion and rigidity, just as a piece of lace or linen needs only to be ironed. in three hours or more the explanation is complete. the wings and elytra stand erect over the locust's back like an immense set of sails; at first colourless, then of a tender green, like the freshly expanded wings of the cigale. i am amazed at their expanse when i think of the miserable stumps from which they have expanded. how did so much material contrive to occupy so little space? there is a story of a grain of hemp-seed that contained all the body-linen of a princess. here we have something even more astonishing. the hemp-seed of the story needed long years to germinate, to multiply, and at last to give the quantity of hemp required for the trousseau of a princess; but the germ of the locust's wing has expanded to a magnificent sail in a few short hours. slowly the superb erection composed of the four flat fan-like pinions assumes rigidity and colour. by to-morrow the colour will have attained the requisite shade. for the first time the wings close fan-wise and lie down in their places; the elytra bend over at their outer edges, forming a flange which lies snugly over the flanks. the transformation is complete. now the great locust has only to harden its tissues a little longer and to tan the grey of its costume in the ecstasy of the sunshine. let us leave it to its happiness, and return to an earlier moment. the four stumps which emerge from their coverings shortly after the rupture of the corselet along its median line contain, as we have seen, the wings and elytra with their innumerable nervures. if not perfect, at least the general plan is complete, with all its innumerable details. to expand these miserable bundles and convert them into an ample set of sails it is enough that the organism, acting like a force-pump, should force into the channels already prepared a stream of humours kept in reserve for this moment and this purpose, the most laborious of the whole process. as the capillary channels are prepared in advance a slight injection of fluid is sufficient to cause expansion. but what were these four bundles of tissue while still enclosed in their sheaths? are the wing-sheaths and the triangular winglets of the larva the moulds whose folds, wrinkles, and sinuosities form their contents in their own image, and so weave the network of the future wings and wing-covers? were they really moulds we might for a moment be satisfied. we might tell ourselves: it is quite a simple matter that the thing moulded should conform to the cavity of the mould. but the simplicity is only apparent, for the mould in its turn must somewhere derive the requisite and inextricable complexity. we need not go so far back; we should only be in darkness. let us keep to the observable facts. i examine with a magnifying-glass one of the triangular coat-tails of a larva on the point of transformation. i see a bundle of moderately strong nervures radiating fan-wise. i see other nervures in the intervals, pale and very fine. finally, still more delicate, and running transversely, a number of very short nervures complete the pattern. certainly this resembles a rough sketch of the future wing-case; but how different from the mature structure! the disposition of the radiating nervures, the skeleton of the structure, is not at all the same; the network formed by the cross-nervures gives no idea whatever of the complex final arrangement. the rudimentary is succeeded by the infinitely complex; the clumsy by the infinitely perfect, and the same is true of the sheath of the wing and the final condition of its contents, the perfect wing. it is perfectly evident, when we have the preparatory as well as the final condition of the wing before our eyes, that the wing-sheath of the larva is not a simple mould which elaborates the tissue enclosed in its own image and fashions the wing after the complexities of its own cavity. the future wing is not contained in the sheath as a bundle, which will astonish us, when expanded, by the extent and extreme complication of its surface. or, to speak more exactly, it is there, but in a potential state. before becoming an actual thing it is a virtual thing which is not yet, but is capable of becoming. it is there as the oak is inside the acorn. a fine transparent cushion limits the free edge of the embryo wing and the embryo wing-case. under a powerful microscope we can perceive therein a few doubtful lineaments of the future lace-work. this might well be the factory in which life will shortly set its materials in movement. nothing more is visible; nothing that will make us foresee the prodigious network in which each mesh must have its form and place predetermined with geometrical exactitude. in order that the organisable material can shape itself as a sheet of gauze and describe the inextricable labyrinth of the nervuration, there must be something better and more wonderful than a mould. there is a prototypical plan, an ideal pattern, which imposes a precise position upon each atom of the tissue. before the material commences to circulate the configuration is already virtually traced, the courses of the plastic currents are already mapped out. the stones of our buildings co-ordinate according to the considered plan of the architect; they form an ideal assemblage before they exist as a concrete assemblage. similarly, the wing of a cricket, that wonderful piece of lace-work emerging from a tiny sheath, speaks to us of another architect, the author of the plans according to which life labours. the genesis of living creatures offers to our contemplation an infinity of wonders far greater than this matter of a locust's wing; but in general they pass unperceived, obscured as they are by the veil of time. time, in the deliberation of mysteries, deprives us of the most astonishing of spectacles except our spirits be endowed with a tenacious patience. here by exception the fact is accomplished with a swiftness that forces the attention. whosoever would gain, without wearisome delays, a glimpse of the inconceivable dexterity with which the forces of life can labour, has only to consider the great locust of the vineyard. the insect will show him that which is hidden from our curiosity by extreme deliberation in the germinating seed, the opening leaf, and the budding flower. we cannot see the grass grow; but we can watch the growth of the locust's wings. amazement seizes upon us before this sublime phantasmagoria of the grain of hemp which in a few hours has been transmuted into the finest cloth. what a mighty artist is life, shooting her shuttle to weave the wings of the locust--one of those insignificant insects of whom long ago pliny said: _in his tam parcis, ferè nullis, quae vis, quae sapientia, quam inextricabilis perfectio!_ how truly was the old naturalist inspired! let us repeat with him: "what power, what wisdom, what inconceivable perfection in this least of secrets that the vineyard locust has shown us!" i have heard that a learned inquirer, for whom life is only a conflict of physical and chemical forces, does not despair of one day obtaining artificially organisable matter--_protoplasm_, as the official jargon has it. if it were in my power i should hasten to satisfy this ambitious gentleman. but so be it: you have really prepared protoplasm. by force of meditation, profound study, minute care, impregnable patience, your desire is realised: you have extracted from your apparatus an albuminous slime, easily corruptible and stinking like the devil at the end of a few days: in short, a nastiness. what are you going to do with it? organise something? will you give it the structure of a living edifice? will you inject it with a hypodermic syringe between two impalpable plates to obtain were it only the wing of a fly? that is very much what the locust does. it injects its protoplasm between the two surfaces of an embryo organ, and the material forms a wing-cover, because it finds as guide the ideal archetype of which i spoke but now. it is controlled in the labyrinth of its course by a device anterior to the injection: anterior to the material itself. this archetype, the co-ordinator of forms; this primordial regulator; have you got it on the end of your syringe? no! then throw away your product. life will never spring from that chemical filth. chapter xxi the pine-chafer the orthodox denomination of this insect is _melolontha fullo_, lin. it does not answer, i am very well aware, to be difficult in matters of nomenclature; make a noise of some sort, affix a latin termination, and you will have, as far as euphony goes, the equivalent of many of the tickets pasted in the entomologist's specimen boxes. the cacophony would be excusable if the barbarous term signified nothing but the creature signified; but as a rule this name possesses, hidden in its greek or other roots, a certain meaning in which the novice hopes to find instruction. the hope is a delusion. the learned term refers to subtleties difficult to comprehend, and of very indifferent importance. too often it leads the student astray, giving him glimpses that have nothing whatever in common with the truth as we know it from observation. very often the errors implied by such names are flagrant; sometimes the allusions are ridiculous, grotesque, or merely imbecile. so long as they have a decent sound, how infinitely preferable are locutions in which etymology finds nothing to dissect! of such would be the word _fullo_, were it not that it already has a meaning which immediately occurs to the mind. this latin expression means a _fuller_; a person who kneads and presses cloth under a stream of water, making it flexible and ridding it of the asperities of weaving. what connection has the subject of this chapter with the fuller of cloth? i may puzzle my head in vain: no acceptable reply will occur to me. the term _fullo_ as applied to an insect is found in pliny. in one chapter the great naturalist treats of remedies against jaundice, fevers, and dropsy. a little of everything enters into this antique pharmacy: the longest tooth of a black dog; the nose of a mouse wrapped in a pink cloth; the right eye of a green lizard torn from the living animal and placed in a bag of kid-skin; the heart of a serpent, cut out with the left hand; the four articulations of the tail of a scorpion, including the dart, wrapped tightly in a black cloth, so that for three days the sick man can see neither the remedy nor him that applies it; and a number of other extravagances. we may well close the book, alarmed at the slough of the imbecility whence the art of healing has come down to us. in the midst of these imbecilities, the preludes of medicine, we find a mention of the "fuller." _tertium qui vocatur fullo, albis guttis, dissectum utrique lacerto adalligant_, says the text. to treat fevers divide the fuller beetle in two parts and apply half under the right arm and half under the left. [illustration: the pine-chafer. (_melolontha fullo._)] now what did the ancient naturalist mean by the term "fuller beetle"? we do not precisely know. the qualification _albis guttis_, white spots, would fit the pine-chafer well enough, but it is not sufficient to make us certain. pliny himself does not seem to have been very certain of the identity of the remedy. in his time men's eyes had not yet learned to see the insect world. insects were too small; they were well enough for amusing children, who would tie them to the end of a long thread and make them walk in circles, but they were not worthy of occupying the attention of a self-respecting man. pliny apparently derived the word from the country-folk, always poor observers and inclined to extravagant denominations. the scholar accepted the rural locution, the work perhaps of the imagination of childhood, and applied it at hazard without informing himself more particularly. the word came down to us embalmed with age; our modern naturalists have accepted it, and thus one of our handsomest insects has become the "fuller." the majesty of antiquity has consecrated the strange appellation. in spite of all my respect for the antique, i cannot myself accept the term "fuller," because under the circumstances it is absurd. common sense should be considered before the aberrations of nomenclature. why not call our subject the pine-chafer, in reference to the beloved tree, the paradise of the insect during the two or three weeks of its aerial life? nothing could be simpler, or more appropriate, to give the better reason last. we have to wander for ages in the night of absurdity before we reach the radiant light of the truth. all our sciences witness to this fact; even the science of numbers. try to add a column of roman figures; you will abandon the task, stupefied by the confusion of symbols; and will recognise what a revolution was made in arithmetic by the discovery of the zero. like the egg of columbus, it was a very little thing, but it had to be thought of. while hoping that the future will sink the unfortunate "fuller" in oblivion, we will use the term "pine chafer" between ourselves. under that name no one can possibly mistake the insect in question, which frequents the pine-tree only. it has a handsome and dignified appearance, rivalling that of _oryctes nasicornis_. its costume, if it has not the metallic splendour dear to the scarabæi, the buprestes and the rose-beetles, is at least unusually elegant. a black or chestnut background is thickly sown with capriciously shaped spots of white velvet; a fashion both modest and handsome. the male bears at the end of his short antennæ a kind of plume consisting of seven large superimposed plates or leaves, which, opening and closing like the sticks of a fan, betray the emotions that possess him. at first sight it seems that this magnificent foliage must form a sense-organ of great perfection, capable of perceiving subtle odours, or almost inaudible vibrations of the air, or other phenomena to which our senses fail to respond; but the female warns us that we must not place too much reliance on such ideas; for although her maternal duties demand a degree of impressionability at least as great as that of the male, yet the plumes of her antennæ are extremely meagre, containing only six narrow leaves. what then is the use of the enormous fan-like structure of the male antennæ? the seven-leaved apparatus is for the pine-chafer what his long vibrating horns are to the cerambyx and the panoply of the head to the onthophagus and the forked antlers of the mandibles to the stag-beetle. each decks himself after his manner in these nuptial extravagances. this handsome chafer appears towards the summer solstice, almost simultaneously with the first cigales. the punctuality of its appearance gives it a place in the entomological calendar, which is no less punctual than that of the seasons. when the longest days come, those days which seem endless and gild the harvests, it never fails to hasten to its tree. the fires of st. john, reminiscences of the festivals of the sun, which the children light in the village streets, are not more punctual in their date. at this season, in the hours of twilight, the pine-chafer comes every evening if the weather is fine, to visit the pine-trees in the garden. i follow its evolutions with my eyes. with a silent flight, not without spirit, the males especially wheel and wheel about, extending their great antennary plumes; they go to and fro, to and fro, a procession of flying shadows upon the pale blue of the sky in which the last light of day is dying. they settle, take flight again, and once more resume their busy rounds. what are they doing up there during the fortnight of their festival? the answer is evident: they are courting their mates, and they continue to render their homage until the fall of night. in the morning both males and females commonly occupy the lower branches. they lie there isolated, motionless, indifferent to passing events. they do not avoid the hand about to seize them. most of them are hanging by their hind legs and nibbling the pine-needles; they seem to be gently drowsing with the needles at their mouths. when twilight returns they resume their frolics. to watch these frolics in the tops of the trees is hardly possible; let us try to observe them in captivity. four pairs are collected in the morning and placed, with some twigs off the pine-tree, in a spacious; cage. the sight is hardly worth my attention; deprived of the possibility of flight, the insects cannot behave as in the open. at most i see a male from time to time approaching his beloved; he spreads out the leaves of his antennæ, and agitates them so that they shiver slightly; he is perhaps informing himself if he is welcome. thereupon he puts on his finest airs and exhibits his attainments. it is a useless display; the female is motionless, as though insensible to these demonstrations. captivity has sorrows that are hard to overcome. this was all that i was able to see. mating, it appears, must take place during the later hours of the night, so that i missed the propitious moment. one detail in particular interested me. the pine-chafer emits a musical note. the female is as gifted as the male. does the lover make use of his faculty as a means of seduction and appeal? does the female answer the chirp of her _innamorata_ by a similar chirp? that this may be so under normal conditions, amidst the foliage of the pines, is extremely probable; but i can make no assertion, as i have never heard anything of the kind either among the pines or in my laboratory. the sound is produced by the extremity of the abdomen, which gently rises and falls, rubbing, as it does so, with its last few segments, the hinder edge of the wing-covers, which are held firm and motionless. there is no special equipment on the rubbing surface nor on the surface rubbed. the magnifying-glass looks in vain for the fine striations usually found in the musical instruments of the insect world. all is smooth on either hand. how then is the sound engendered? rub the end of the moistened finger on a strip of glass, or a window-pane, and you will obtain a very audible sound, somewhat analogous to that emitted by the chafer. better still, use a scrap of indiarubber to rub the glass with, and you will reproduce with some fidelity the sound in question. if the proper rhythm is observed the imitation is so successful that one might well be deceived by it. in the musical apparatus of the pine-chafer the pad of the finger-tip and the scrap of indiarubber are represented by the soft abdomen of the insect, and the glass is represented by the blade of the wing-cover, which forms a thin, rigid plate, easily set in vibration. the sound-mechanism of the pine-chafer is thus of the very simplest description. index a acorn-weevil, _see_ elephant-beetle ameles, _see_ mantis, the grey anacreon, on the cigale, 9 ant, fable of the cigale and the, 1-16 devours the cigale, 9 robs the cigale, 8 arum, serpent or putrid, the, attracts and captures insects by means of its offensive effluvia, 230-2 b _balaninus_, _see_ elephant-beetle bean, ancestry of, 258-9 bean, _see_ haricot bean-weevil, _see_ weevil bees, victims of philanthus, _see_ latter bembex, 168, 172 bolboceras gallicus, 217-37 appearance of, 223 habits and diet, 226-30 lodging of, 225 _bruchus pisi_, see pea-weevil _bruchus lenti_, see lentil-weevil buprestes, 21 c _cacan_, the, 36-9 capricornis, 21-2 cerceris, 172, 178 chrysomela, 151, 172 cigale, the, 1-67 burrow of the, 17-30 deafness of the, 41-3 diet, 7 eggs of the, 45-67 eggs, hatching of, 61-7 eggs, method of laying, 50-4 enemies of the, 47-50 excavation, method of, 23-7 fable of ant and, 1-16 larva of the, 17-30 larva, habits of, 61-7 mechanism of sound, 31-4 pupa, emergence from, 28 song of the, 2, 6, 31-44 species of, 31-6 cigalo e la fournigo (provençal poem), 10-16 cricket, field, the, 120-9 eggs of, 120-2 excavations of, 124-5 fertility of, 123 song of, 126-8 cricket, italian, the, 130-5 appearance of, 130 song of, 131-4 d dermestes, victims of arum, 232 dioscorides on the cigale, 29 diptera, 168, 172 dog, its love of stenches, 233 scent of the, 220-22 a truffle-hunter, 218-20 e elephant-beetle (balaninus or acorn-weevil), 238-57 boring acorns, habit of, 240-4 eggs, method of laying, 245, 254-7 motives in boring, 246-50 snout of, 238-9 emperor moth, _see_ great peacock moth _empusa pauperata_, _see_ mantis eucores, 176 g golden gardener, the, 102-19 cannibal habits of, 111-19 courtship of, 103-10 ferocity of, 101-4, 108-10 nutriment of, 102-10 vermin killer, as a, 107 grandville, illustrates la fontaine's fables, 2 h halictus, 176, 178 haricot bean, the, 282-9 haricot-weevil, the, _see_ weevil heredia, j.-m. de, 287-90 hydnocystus, a fungus, 228 hymenoptera, habits of, 137-8, 150, 162, 171-2, 175-6 l la fontaine, fable of the cigale and the ant, 3 locust, grey, the, 300-16 larva of, 300 metamorphosis of, 300-9 wing, formation of, 309-15 m mantis, the _empusa pauperata_, 97 mantis, the grey, 96 mantis, the praying, 68-101 cannibalism of, 82-5 courtship, 79-83 hunter, as, 68-78 nest of, 86-101 _melolontha fullo_, _see_ pine-chafer minotaur, 225 o oak eggar, the, 202-16, 234-7 experiments as to sense of smell in males, 208-15 swarming of males during the mating season, 204-15 odynerus, 150-1, 172 osmia tricornis, 173, 175 p pea, ancestry of the, 258-9 pea-weevil, _see_ weevil peacock moth, the great, 179-201, 234-7 appearance of, 179 experiments as to sense of smell in males, 184-97 invasion of house by males, 180-1 swarming of males, 181-3 peacock moth, the lesser, 197-201 phalangist, the, 225 _philanthus aviporus_, 150-178 cocoon of, 168 diet of, 150-1 larvæ of, 168 methods of killing and robbing bees, 151-160 motives of robbery, 163-78 nest of, 167 _philanthus coronatus_, 178 _philanthus raptor_, 178 pine-chafer, the, 317-23 appearance of, 320 cry of, 322-3 habits of, 321 medical qualities of, supposed, 318-19 name, origin of latin, 317-18 pliny, on the pine-chafer, 318-19 s saprinidæ, victims of arum, 233 sapromyzon, the, 222 scarabæus, _see_ golden scarabæus scent in insects, _see_ peacock moth, oak eggar, bolboceras gallicus, arum, putrid scolia, 171 sisyphus, legend of, 139 sisyphus beetle, the, 136-49 burrow of, 143 larva of, 147-9 mating of, 142-3 paternal instinct of 142-6 pellet of, 142-9 t tachytus, 172 _tigno_, nest of mantis, 99-101 truffle-beetle, 222 truffle-dog, 218-20 w weevil, acorn, _see_ elephant-beetle weevil, the lentil, 291 weevil, the haricot, 282-94 habits of, 291-6 invasion of, 284 larvæ, 297-9 weevil, the pea, 258-81, 295 description of, 261 enemy, its chief, 280-1 habits, 261-5 (deductions to be drawn from), 273-4 larvæ of, 268-71, 275-6 footnotes: [footnote 1: whether the cigale is absolutely deaf or not, it is certain that one cigale would be able to perceive another's cry. the vibrations of the male cigale's cry would cause a resonance, a vibration, in the body cavities of other male cigales, and to a lesser extent in the smaller cavities in the bodies of the females. other sounds would cause a slight shock, if loud enough, but not a perceptible vibration may not this vibration--felt as in a cathedral we feel the vibrations of the organ-pipes in the bones of the chest and head or on the covers of the hymn-book in our hands--serve to keep the insects together, and enable the females to keep within sight of the males? the sight of an insect is in one sense poor--it consists of a kind of mosaic picture, and for one insect to distinguish another clearly the distance between them must not be very great. certain gregarious birds and fish whose colouring is protective have a habit of showing their white bellies as they swerve on changing their direction. these signals help to keep the flock together. the white scut of the rabbit and of certain deer is a signal for other deer or rabbits to follow a frightened flock. it is obviously to the advantage of the cigale to follow a gregarious habit, if only for purposes of propagation, for this would be facilitated by the sexes keeping together, and, deaf or otherwise, the vibrations of its cry would enable it to do so. it would be easy to show _a priori_ that the perception of such vibrations must cause the insect pleasure, as they stimulate a nervous structure attuned to the perception or capable of the production of certain complex vibrations. the discord of the cry is caused by the fact that it consists of a number of vibrations of different pitch. some would set the contents of the male resonating cavities in vibration; others would affect the less regular cavities in the thorax of the female. we might compare the cigale's cry to a sheep-bell. that it is felt and not heard explains its loudness and its grating quality. a cigale with the resonating cavities destroyed would possibly be lost. the experiment is worth trying.--[trans.]] [footnote 2: it is not easy to understand why the mantis should paralyse the cricket with terror while the latter will immediately escape when threatened by other enemies. as many species of mantis exactly mimic sticks and leaves when motionless for purposes of defence, is it not possible that they mimic their surroundings for purposes of offence as well? it is easy and natural to say that the mantis presents a terrifying aspect. it does to us, by association; but how can we say that it represents anything of the sort to the probably hypnotic or automatic consciousness of the cricket? what does it really represent, as seen from below? a twig, terminating in a bud, with two branching twigs growing from it, and a harmless nondescript fly or butterfly perched on the back of it. the combination of a familiar sight and a threatening sound would very plausibly result in cautious immobility. as for its instantaneous assumption of the pose, to move instantaneously is the next best thing to not moving at all. it is less likely to startle than a slow movement. twigs which have been bent get suddenly released in the natural course of events; they do not move slowly. the instantaneous appearance of a twig where no twig was before may possibly give the victim pause; it may halt out of caution, not out of terror.--[trans.]] [footnote 3: the word "butterfly" is here used, as is the french _papillon_, as a general term for all lepidoptera; the insect in question is of course a moth.] [footnote 4: now classified as _lasiocampa quercus_.--[trans.]] [footnote 5: _rabasso_ is the provençal name for the truffle; hence a truffle-hunter is known as a _rabassier_.] [footnote 6: since these lines were written i have found it consuming one of the true tuberaceæ, the _tuber requienii_, tul., of the size of a cherry.] [footnote 7: the difficulty in conceiving this theory lies in the fact that the waves travel in straight lines. on the other hand, matter in a state of degradation may expel particles highly energised and of enormous velocity. most antennæ are covered with hairs of inconceivable fineness; others may contain cavities of almost infinite minuteness. is it not thinkable that they are able to detect, in the gaseous atmosphere, floating particles that are not gaseous? this would not prevent the specialisation of antennæ as mere feelers in some insects and crustaceans. the difficulty of such a supposition lies in the fact of discrimination; but if we did not possess a sense of taste or smell discrimination would seem inconceivable in their case also.--[trans.]] [footnote 8: this classification is now superseded; the pea and bean weevils--_bruchus pisi_ and _bruchus lenti_--are classed as bruchidæ, in the series of phytophaga. most of the other weevils are classed as curculionidæ, series rhyncophora.--[trans.]] [footnote 9: the christmas number (_noël_) of the _annales politiques et littéraires: les enfants jugés par leurs pères_, 1901.] [footnote 10: the american usage is to call acridians grasshoppers and locustidæ locusts. the english usage is to call locustidæ grasshoppers and acridians locusts. the biblical locust is an acridian.] demy 8vo, cloth, 10/6 net fabre: poet of science by g. v. legros with a photogravure frontispiece this biography is based upon long acquaintance and access to family letters, and is a striking record of a wonderful life. "stands out as a really sound, sympathetic, and artistic piece of work.... the simple story of the life-work of an observer of nature in general, and of insects in particular, is unfolded in a manner which makes it as fascinating as a romance."--the times. "a rare biography."--saturday review. "it is a prose poem on a great scientist, his simple life and remarkable work."--daily graphic. "dr. legros gives us a sympathetic insight into the life and work of the poet scientist, and a just record of a great man."--daily express. "dr. legros gives us an exceptionally vivid picture of the man, his toil and trials, his characteristics, and his ways of life."--everyman. "a book so packed with charm we have rarely opened."--evening standard. _printed in great britain by_ unwin brothers, limited woking and london grub parasite in the snail 436 illustrations. page 1. eggs of insects, magnified 16 2. larvæ 17 3. pupæ 18 4. insects in the imago or perfect state 19 5. mason-wasp 23 6. jaws of mason-wasp 24 7. cuckoo-fly 25 8. mason-wasp's nest and cocoons 25 9. mason-wasp 25 10. nests, &c., of mason-wasps 26 11. towers built by mason-wasp 29 12. nests of _pompilus punctum_ 29 13. _scolia xantiana_, and section of its burrow 35 14. mason-bee 38 15. exterior wall of mason-bee's nest 39 16. cells of a mason-bee 39 17. cells of mason-bees 46 18. cells of _chalicodoma_ 49 19. nest of _synagris calida_ 50 20. cell of mining-bee 51 21. cells of carpenter-bees, in an old post 57 22. carpenter-bee and cells 58 23. carpenter-wasp and cells 62 24. rose-leaf-cutter-bee and nest 71 25. carder-bee and nest 75 26. breeding-cells of carder-bee 77 27. interior view of carder-bee's nest 78 28. cells of humble-bee and insects 80 29. nest of common wasp in early stage 88 30. section of wasp's nest 89 31. section of social-wasps' nest 90 32. suspension-rod and part of external crust of social-wasps' nest 91 33. hornet's nest in its first stage 92 34. complete hornet's nest, and insect 93 35. hornet's nest in hollow tree 94 36. nest of tree-wasp 96 37. wasp's nest 97 38. wasps' cells attached to a branch 98 39. comb of _polistes_ 99 40. nest of the pasteboard-maker wasp 103 41. nest of _myrapetra_ 105 42. nests of _polybia_ 108 43. nests of _synæca_ and _polybia_ 109 44. part of a honeycomb and bees at work 112 45. worker-bee, magnified 123 46. abdomen of wax-worker bee 124 47. structure of the legs of the bee 130 48. curtain of wax-workers secreting wax 133 49. wax-worker laying the foundation of first cell 136 50. curtain of wax-workers 137 51. arrangement of cells 141 52. foundation-wall and cells commenced 143 53. hive-bees and cells 159 54. ovipositors, with files, of tree-hopper 167 55. excavations for eggs of tree-hopper 167 56. ovipositor of saw-fly 169 57. ovipositor of saw-fly, much magnified 170 58. portion of saw-fly's comb-toothed rasp 171 59. nest of eggs of saw-fly 173 60. saw-fly of the gooseberry 174 61. exterior and section of nest of _deilocenes ellisii_, and insect 176 62. cells of _icaria_ 177 63. cells of _raphigaster guiniensis_ 178 64. single cells of _icaria_ 179 65. lilac-tree moth 182 66. nest of lilac-leaf-roller 182 67. do. another specimen 183 68. small green oak-moth 184 69. nests of oak-leaf-rolling caterpillars 184 70. nest of nettle-leaf-rolling caterpillar 186 71. leaf-rolling caterpillars of the sorrel 188 72. nests of the _hesperia malvæ_ with caterpillar, chrysalis, and butterflies 189 73. nest of willow-leaf-roller 191 74. ziczac caterpillar and nest 192 75. cypress-spurge caterpillar 198 76. moss-cell of small caterpillar 200 77. leaf-nest of caddis-worm 202 75. reed-nest of caddis-worm 202 79. cell of _phryganea_ 203 80. shell-nests of caddis-worms 203 81. stone-nest of caddis-worm 204 82. sand-nest balanced with a stone 204 83. nest of caddis-worm balanced with straws 204 84. various nests of caddis-worms 206 85. caterpillar of goat-moth 208 86. winter-nest of goat-caterpillar 208 87. nest of goat-moth 209 88. larva of _ægeria_ 211 89. eggs of the puss-moth 213 90. rudiments of the cell of puss-moth 213 91. cell of larva of puss-moth 214 92. ichneumon 215 93. magnified cells of _pyralis strigulalis_ (?) 217 94. outside view of nests of earth-mason caterpillars 220 95. nests, etc., of earth-mason caterpillar 221 96. do. with perfect moth 223 97. nests of the grubs of _ephemeræ_ 225 98. nests of _ephemeræ_ in holes of cossus 225 99. grub of the ant-lion with traps 228 100. ant-lion's traps in experimenting-box 231 101. cases of the clothes-moth and insect 238 102. transformations of the honeycomb-moths 240 103. transformations of the grain-moths 242 104. tent of caterpillar upon elm-leaf 244 105. operations of caterpillar upon leaf 246 106. lichen-tents and caterpillars 247 107. branch of willow with caterpillars' muff-tents 251 108. rose-leaf mined by caterpillars 253 109. bramble-leaf do. 254 110. primrose-leaf do. 255 111. bark mined by beetle-grubs 259 112. cocoons of _rhagium_ and _rhyncophorus_ 261 113. capricorn-beetle rounding off bark of tree 262 114. _cerambyx carcharias,_ and _cerambyx populneus_ 263 115. the mole-cricket 265 116. nest of mole-cricket 266 117. _acrida verrucivora_ depositing her eggs 269 118. transformations of the cockchafer 276 119. ant-hive or formicary 291 120. floor of ant-nest 292 121. insecure nest propped up by ants 293 122. nest of wood-ant 295 123. artificial formicary 298 124. portion of a tree tunnelled by jet ants 302 125. _formica fuliginosa_ 304 126. _crematogaster_ 310 127. nests of _polyrachis bispinosa_ and _p. textor_ 311 128. _termes bellicosus_ in the winged state 317 129. queen termite distended with eggs 320 130. tree-nest of _termites arborum_, and hill-nests of _t. bellicosus_ 324 131. turret-nests of white ants 326 132. leg and pro-leg of caterpillar 331 133. caterpillar of goat-moth 332 134. interior structure of cossus 333 135. side view and section of silk-tube of cossus 334 136. labium of cossus 334 137. cocoons of emperor-moth 343 138. cocoon of _arctia villica_ 345 139. net-work cocoon 345 140. nest of puss-moth 347 141. caterpillars of small ermine on siberian crab 351 142. winter-nests of _porthesia chrysorrhoea_ 352 143. winter-nests of social caterpillars 353 144. pendulous leaves 356 145. nest of _larrada_ 357 146. nests of _polybia_ 358 147. nests of _oiketicus_, &c. 359 148. nests of _pelopæus_, &c. 361 149. _bombycidæ_ 363 150. processionary caterpillars 364 151. nest of do. 365 152. garden spider suspended by single thread 367 153. spinnerets of spiders 368 154. single thread of spider, greatly magnified 369 155. attached end of spider's thread 369 156. geometric net of _epeira diadema_ 387 157. nest of the mason-spider 389 158. nest of _mygale sauvagesii_ 391 159. insect emerging from its nest 391 160. triple-clawed foot of spider 395 161. small galls on oak-leaf 398 162. ovipositor of gall-fly 399 163. gall-fly and mechanism of ovipositor 400 164. bedeguar gall of the rose 402 165. one of the bristles of bedeguar, magnified 403 166. artichoke gall of the oak-bud, and insect 405 167. leafy gall of dyer's broom 406 168. semi-gall of the hawthorn 408 169. woolly gall of the oak 409 170. oak-apple galls 410 171. root-galls of the oak 411 172. woody gall on a willow branch 412 173. currant-gall of the catkins of the oak 413 174. gall of the hawthorn-weevil 414 175. plant-louse, magnified 416 176. galls produced on the poplar, and insects 417 177. leaf of the currant-bush with aphides 419 178. shoot of lime-tree contorted by _a. tiliæ_ 421 179. pseudo-gall of the bramble 422 180. pseudo-galls of the hawthorn 423 181. ovipositor of the breeze-fly 426 182. the grub of breeze-fly 432 183. the ox-breeze-fly 433 184. bumps produced on cattle by breeze-fly 434 185. _microgaster glomeratus_ 438 186. _microgaster alveolarius_ 439 insect architecture. _chapter 1._ introduction. it can never be too strongly impressed upon a mind anxious for the acquisition of knowledge, that the commonest things by which we are surrounded are deserving of minute and careful attention. the most profound investigations of philosophy are necessarily connected with the ordinary circumstances of our being, and of the world in which our every-day life is spent. with regard to our own existence, the pulsation of the heart, the act of respiration, the voluntary movement of our limbs, the condition of sleep, are among the most ordinary operations of our nature; and yet how long were the wisest of men struggling with dark and bewildering speculations before they could offer anything like a satisfactory solution of these phenomena, and how far are we still from an accurate and complete knowledge of them! the science of meteorology, which attempts to explain to us the philosophy of matters constantly before our eyes, as dew, mist, and rain, is dependent for its illustrations upon a knowledge of the most complicated facts, such as the influence of heat and electricity upon the air; and this knowledge is at present so imperfect, that even these common occurrences of the weather, which men have been observing and reasoning upon for ages, are by no means satisfactorily explained, or reduced to the precision that every science should aspire to. yet, however difficult it may be entirely to comprehend the phenomena we daily witness, everything in nature is full of instruction. thus the humblest flower of the field, although, to one whose curiosity has not been excited, and whose understanding has, therefore, remained uninformed, it may appear worthless and contemptible, is valuable to the botanist, not only with regard to its place in the arrangement of this portion of the creator's works, but as it leads his mind forward to the consideration of those beautiful provisions for the support of vegetable life, which it is the part of the physiologist to study and to admire. this train of reasoning is peculiarly applicable to the economy of insects. they constitute a very large and interesting part of the animal kingdom. they are everywhere about us. the spider weaves his curious web in our houses; the caterpillar constructs his silken cell in our gardens; the wasp that hovers over our food has a nest not far removed from us, which she has assisted to build with the nicest art; the beetle that crawls across our path is also an ingenious and laborious mechanic, and has some curious instincts to exhibit to those who will feel an interest in watching his movements; and the moth that eats into our clothes has something to plead for our pity, for he came, like us, naked into the world, and he has destroyed our garments, not in malice or wantonness, but that he may clothe himself with the same wool which we have stripped from the sheep. an observation of the habits of these little creatures is full of valuable lessons, which the abundance of the examples has no tendency to diminish. the more such observations are multiplied, the more are we led forward to the freshest and the most delightful parts of knowledge; the more do we learn to estimate rightly the extraordinary provisions and most abundant resources of a creative providence; and the better do we appreciate our own relations with all the infinite varieties of nature, and our dependence, in common with the ephemeron that flutters its little hour in the summer sun, upon that being in whose scheme of existence the humblest as well as the highest creature has its destined purposes. "if you speak of a stone," says st. basil, one of the fathers of the church, "if you speak of a fly, a gnat, or a bee, your conversation will be a sort of demonstration of his power whose hand formed them, for the wisdom of the workman is commonly perceived in that which is of little size. he who has stretched out the heavens, and dug up the bottom of the sea, is also he who has pierced a passage through the sting of the bee for the ejection of its poison." if it be granted that making discoveries is one of the most satisfactory of human pleasures, then we may without hesitation affirm, that the study of insects is one of the most delightful branches of natural history, for it affords peculiar facilities for its pursuit. these facilities are found in the almost inexhaustible variety which insects present to the curious observer. as a proof of the extraordinary number of insects within a limited field of observation, mr. stephens informs us, that in the short space of forty days, between the middle of june and the beginning of august, he found, in the vicinity of ripley, specimens of above two thousand four hundred species of insects, exclusive of caterpillars and grubs,--a number amounting to nearly a fourth of the insects ascertained to be indigenous. he further tells us, that, among these specimens, although the ground had, in former seasons, been frequently explored, there were about one hundred species altogether new, and not before in any collection which he had inspected, including several new genera; while many insects reputed scarce were in considerable plenty.[a] the localities of insects are, to a certain extent, constantly changing; and thus the study of them has, in this circumstance, as well as in their manifold abundance, a source of perpetual variety. insects, also, which are plentiful one year, frequently become scarce, or disappear altogether, the next--a fact strikingly illustrated by the uncommon abundance, in 1826 and 1827, of the seven-spot lady-bird (_coccinella septempunctata_), in the vicinity of london, though during the two succeeding summers this insect was comparatively scarce, while the small two-spot lady-bird (_coccinella bipunctata_) was plentiful. there is, perhaps, no situation in which the lover of nature and the observer of animal life may not find opportunities for increasing his store of facts. it is told of a state prisoner, under a cruel and rigorous despotism, that when he was excluded from all commerce with mankind, and was shut out from books, he took an interest and found consolation in the visits of a spider; and there is no improbability in the story. the operations of that persecuted creature are among the most extraordinary exhibitions of mechanical ingenuity; and a daily watching of the workings of its instinct would beget admiration in a rightly-constituted mind. the poor prisoner had abundant leisure for the speculations in which the spider's web would enchain his understanding. we have all of us, at one period or other of our lives, been struck with some singular evidence of contrivance in the economy of insects, which we have seen with our own eyes. want of leisure, and probably want of knowledge, have prevented us from following up the curiosity which for a moment was excited. and yet some such accident has made men naturalists, in the highest meaning of the term. bonnet, evidently speaking of himself, says, "i knew a naturalist, who, when he was seventeen years of age, having heard of the operations of the ant-lion, began by doubting them. he had no rest till he had examined into them: and he verified them, he admired them, he discovered new facts, and soon became the disciple and the friend of the pliny of france"[b] (réaumur). it is not the happy fortune of many to be able to devote themselves exclusively to the study of nature, unquestionably the most fascinating of human employments; but almost every one may acquire sufficient knowledge to be able to derive a high gratification from beholding the more common operations of animal life. his materials for contemplation are always before him. some weeks ago we made an excursion to west wood, near shooter's hill, expressly for the purpose of observing the insects we might meet with in the wood: but we had not got far among the bushes, when heavy rain came on. we immediately sought shelter among the boughs of some thick underwood, composed of oak, birch, and aspen; but we could not meet with a single insect, not even a gnat or a fly, sheltered under the leaves. upon looking more narrowly, however, into the bushes which protected us, we soon found a variety of interesting objects of study. the oak abounded in galls, several of them quite new to us; while the leaves of the birch and the aspen exhibited the curious serpentine paths of the minute mining caterpillars. when we had exhausted the narrow field of observation immediately around us, we found that we could considerably extend it, by breaking a few of the taller branches near us, and then examining their leaves at leisure. in this manner two hours glided quickly and pleasantly away, by which time the rain had nearly ceased; and though we had been disappointed in our wish to ramble through the wood, we did not return without adding a few interesting facts to our previous knowledge of insect economy.[c] it will appear, then, from the preceding observations, that cabinets and collections, though undoubtedly of the highest use, are by no means indispensable, as the observer of nature may find inexhaustible subjects of study in every garden and in every hedge. nature has been profuse enough in affording us materials for observation, when we are prepared to look about us with that keenness of inquiry, which curiosity, the first step in the pursuit of knowledge, will unquestionably give. nor shall we be disappointed in the gratification which is thus within our reach. were it no more, indeed, than a source of agreeable amusement, the study of insects comes strongly recommended to the notice of the well-educated. the pleasures of childhood are generally supposed to be more exquisite, and to contain less alloy, than those of riper years; and if so, it must be because then everything appears new and dressed in fresh beauties: while in manhood, and old age, whatever has frequently recurred begins to wear the tarnish of decay. the study of nature affords us a succession of "ever-new delights," such as charmed us in childhood, when everything had the attractions of novelty and beauty; and thus the mind of the naturalist may have its own fresh and vigorous thoughts, even while the infirmities of age weigh down the body. it has been objected to the study of insects, as well as to that of natural history in general, that it tends to withdraw the mind from subjects of higher moment; that it cramps and narrows the range of thought; and that it destroys, or at least weakens, the finer creations of the fancy. now, we should allow this objection in its fullest extent, and even be disposed to carry it further than is usually done, if the collecting of specimens only, or, as the french expressly call them, chips (_échantillons_), be called a study. but the mere collector is not, and cannot be, justly considered as a naturalist; and, taking the term naturalist in its enlarged sense, we can adduce some distinguished instances in opposition to the objection. rousseau, for example, was passionately fond of the linnæan botany, even to the driest minutiæ of its technicalities; and yet it does not appear to have cramped his mind, or impoverished his imagination. if rousseau, however, be objected to as an eccentric being, from whose pursuits no fair inference can be drawn, we give the illustrious example of charles james fox, and may add the names of our distinguished poets, goldsmith, thomson, gray, and darwin, who were all enthusiastic naturalists. we wish particularly to insist upon the example of gray, because he was very partial to the study of insects. it may be new to many of our readers, who are familiar with the 'elegy in a country churchyard,' to be told that its author was at the pains to turn the characteristics of the linnæan orders of insects into latin hexameters, the manuscript of which is still preserved in his interleaved copy of the 'systema naturæ.' further, to use the somewhat exaggerated words of kirby and spence, whose work on entomology is one of the most instructive and pleasing books on the science, 'aristotle among the greeks, and pliny the elder among the romans, may be denominated the fathers of natural history, as well as the greatest philosophers of their day; yet both these made insects a principal object of their attention: and in more recent times, if we look abroad, what names greater than those of redi, malpighi, vallisnieri, swammerdam, leeuwenhoek, réaumur, linnæus, de geer, bonnet, and the hubers? and at home, what philosophers have done more honour to their country and to human nature than ray, willughby, lister, and derham? yet all these made the study of insects one of their most favourite pursuits."[d] and yet this study has been considered, by those who have superficially examined the subject, as belonging to a small order of minds; and the satire of pope has been indiscriminately applied to all collectors, while, in truth, it only touches those who mistake the means of knowledge for the end:- "o! would the sons of men once think their eyes and reason given them but to study flies! see nature, in some partial, narrow shape, and let the author of the whole escape; learn but to trifle; or, who most observe, to wonder at their maker, not to serve."[e] thus exclaims the goddess of dulness, sweeping into her net all those who study nature in detail. but if the matter were rightly appreciated, it would be evident that no part of the works of the creator can be without the deepest interest to an inquiring mind; and that a portion of creation which exhibits such extraordinary manifestations of design as is shown by insects must have attractions for the very highest understanding. an accurate knowledge of the properties of insects is of great importance to man, merely with relation to his own comfort and security. the injuries which they inflict upon us are extensive and complicated; and the remedies which we attempt, by the destruction of those creatures, both insects, birds, and quadrupeds, who keep the ravages in check, are generally aggravations of the evil, because they are directed by an ignorance of the economy of nature. the little knowledge which we have of the modes by which insects may be impeded in their destruction of much that is valuable to us, has probably proceeded from our contempt of their individual insignificance. the security of property has ceased to be endangered by quadrupeds of prey, and yet our gardens are ravaged by aphides and caterpillars. it is somewhat startling to affirm that the condition of the human race is seriously injured by these petty annoyances; but it is perfectly true that the art and industry of man have not yet been able to overcome the collective force, the individual perseverance, and the complicated machinery of destruction which insects employ. a small ant, according to a most careful and philosophical observer, opposes almost invincible obstacles to the progress of civilization in many parts of the equinoctial zone. these animals devour paper and parchment; they destroy every book and manuscript. many provinces of spanish america cannot, in consequence, show a written document of a hundred years' existence. "what development," he adds, "can the civilization of a people assume, if there be nothing to connect the present with the past--if the depositories of human knowledge must be constantly renewed--if the monuments of genius and wisdom cannot be transmitted to posterity?"[f] again, there are beetles which deposit their larvæ in trees in such formidable numbers that whole forests perish beyond the power of remedy. the pines of the hartz have thus been destroyed to an enormous extent; and in north america, at one place in south carolina, at least ninety trees in every hundred, upon a tract of two thousand acres, were swept away by a small black, winged bug. and yet, according to wilson, the historian of american birds, the people of the united states were in the habit of destroying the redheaded woodpecker, the great enemy of these insects, because he occasionally spoilt an apple.[g] the same delightful writer and true naturalist, speaking of the labours of the ivory-billed woodpecker, says, "would it be believed that the larvæ of an insect or fly, no larger than a grain of rice, should silently, and in one season, destroy some thousand acres of pine-trees, many of them from two to three feet in diameter, and a hundred and fifty feet high? in some places the whole woods, as far as you can see around you, are dead, stripped of the bark, their wintry-looking arms and bare trunks bleaching in the sun, and tumbling in ruins before every blast."[h] the subterraneous larva of some species of beetle has often caused a complete failure of the seed-corn, as in the district of halle in 1812.[i] the corn-weevil, which extracts the flour from grain, leaving the husk behind, will destroy the contents of the largest storehouses in a very short period. the wire-worm and the turnip-fly are dreaded by every farmer. the ravages of the locust are too well known not to be at once recollected as an example of the formidable collective power of the insect race. the white ants of tropical countries sweep away whole villages with as much certainty as a fire or an inundation; and ships even have been destroyed by these indefatigable republics. our own docks and embankments have been threatened by such minute ravagers. the enormous injuries which insects cause to man may thus be held as one reason for ceasing to consider the study of them as an insignificant pursuit; for a knowledge of their structure, their food, their enemies, and their general habits, may lead, as it often has led, to the means of guarding against their injuries. at the same time we derive from them both direct and indirect benefits. the honey of the bee, the dye of the cochineal, and the web of the silk-worm, the advantages of which are obvious, may well be balanced against the destructive propensities of insects which are offensive to man. but a philosophical study of natural history will teach us that the direct benefits which insects confer upon us are even less important than their general uses in maintaining the economy of the world. the mischiefs which result to us from the rapid increase and the activity of insects are merely results of the very principle by which they confer upon us numberless indirect advantages. forests are swept away by minute beetles; but the same agencies relieve us from that extreme abundance of vegetable matter which would render the earth uninhabitable were this excess not periodically destroyed. in hot countries the great business of removing corrupt animal matter, which the vulture and hyæna imperfectly perform, is effected with certainty and speed by the myriads of insects that spring from the eggs deposited in every carcase by some fly seeking therein the means of life for her progeny. destruction and reproduction, the great laws of nature, are carried on very greatly through the instrumentality of insects; and the same principle regulates even the increase of particular species of insects themselves. when aphides are so abundant that we know not how to escape their ravages, flocks of lady-birds instantly cover our fields and gardens to destroy them. such considerations as these are thrown out to show that the subject of insects has a great philosophical importance--and what portion of the works of nature has not? the habits of all god's creatures, whether they are noxious, or harmless, or beneficial, are worthy objects of our study. if they affect ourselves, in our health or our possessions, whether for good or for evil, an additional impulse is naturally given to our desire to attain a knowledge of their properties. such studies form one of the most interesting occupations which can engage a rational and inquisitive mind; and, perhaps, none of the employments of human life are more dignified than the investigation and survey of the workings and the ways of nature in the minutest of her productions. the exercise of that habit of observation which can alone make a naturalist--"an out-of-door naturalist," as daines barrington calls himself--is well calculated to strengthen even the most practical and merely useful powers of the mind. one of the most valuable mental acquirements is the power of discriminating among things which differ in many minute points, but whose general similarity of appearance usually deceives the common observer into a belief of their identity. the study of insects, in this point of view, is most peculiarly adapted for youth. according to our experience, it is exceedingly difficult for persons arrived at manhood to acquire this power of discrimination; but, in early life, a little care on the part of the parent or teacher will render it comparatively easy. in this study the knowledge of things should go along with that of words. "if names perish," says linnæus, "the knowledge of things perishes also:"[j] and, without names, how can any one communicate to another the knowledge he has acquired relative to any particular fact, either of physiology, habit, utility, or locality? on the other hand, mere catalogue learning is as much to be rejected as the loose generalizations of the despisers of classification and nomenclature. to name a plant, or an insect, or a bird, or a quadruped rightly, is one step towards an accurate knowledge of it; but it is not the knowledge itself. it is the means, and not the end in natural history, as in every other science. if the bias of opening curiosity be properly directed, there is not any branch of natural history so fascinating to youth as the study of insects. it is, indeed, a common practice in many families to teach children, from their earliest infancy, to treat the greater number of insects as if they were venomous and dangerous, and, of course, meriting to be destroyed, or at least avoided with horror. associations are by this means linked with the very appearance of insects, which become gradually more inveterate with advancing years; provided, as most frequently happens, the same system be persisted in, of avoiding or destroying almost every insect which is unlucky enough to attract observation. how much rational amusement and innocent pleasure is thus thoughtlessly lost; and how many disagreeable feelings are thus created, in the most absurd manner! in order to show that the study or (if the word be disliked) the observation of insects is peculiarly fascinating to children, even in their early infancy, we may refer to what we have seen in the family of a friend, who is partial to this, as well as to all the departments of natural history. our friend's children, a boy and girl, were taught, from the moment they could distinguish insects, to treat them as objects of interest and curiosity, and not to be afraid even of those which wore the most repulsive appearance. the little girl, for example, when just beginning to walk alone, encountered one day a large staphylinus (_goërius olens?_ stephens; vulgo, _the devil's coach-horse_), which she fearlessly seized, and did not quit her hold, though the insect grasped one of her fingers in his formidable jaws. the mother, who was by, knew enough of the insect to be rather alarmed for the consequences, though she prudently concealed her feelings from the child. she did well; for the insect was not strong enough to break the skin, and the child took no notice of its attempts to bite her finger. a whole series of disagreeable associations with this formidable-looking family of insects was thus averted at the very moment when a different mode of acting on the part of the mother would have produced the contrary effect. for more than two years after this occurrence the little girl and her brother assisted in adding numerous specimens to their father's collection, without the parents ever having cause, from any accident, to repent of their employing themselves in this manner. the sequel of the little girl's history strikingly illustrates the position for which we contend. the child happened to be sent to a relative in the country, where she was not long in having carefully instilled into her mind all the usual antipathies against "everything that creepeth on the earth;" and though she afterwards returned to her paternal home, no persuasion or remonstrance could ever again persuade her to touch a common beetle, much less a staphylinus, with its tail turned up in a threatening attitude, and its formidable jaws ready extended for attack or defence.[k] we do not wish that children should be encouraged to expose themselves to danger in their encounters with insects. they should be taught to avoid those few which are really noxious--to admire all--to injure none. the various beauty of insects--their glittering colours, their graceful forms--supplies an inexhaustible source of attraction. even the most formidable insects, both in appearance and reality,--the dragon-fly, which is perfectly harmless to man, and the wasp, whose sting every human being almost instinctively shuns,--are splendid in their appearance, and are painted with all the brilliancy of natural hues. it has been remarked that the plumage of tropical birds is not superior in vivid colouring to what may be observed in the greater number of butterflies and moths.[l] "see," exclaims linnæus, "the large, elegant painted wings of the butterfly, four in number, covered with delicate feathery scales! with these it sustains itself in the air a whole day, rivalling the flight of birds and the brilliancy of the peacock. consider this insect through the wonderful progress of its life,--how different is the first period of its being from the second, and both from the parent insect! its changes are an inexplicable enigma to us: we see a green caterpillar, furnished with sixteen feet, feeding upon the leaves of a plant; this is changed into a chrysalis, smooth, of golden lustre, hanging suspended to a fixed point, without feet, and subsisting without food; this insect again undergoes another transformation, acquires wings, and six feet, and becomes a gay butterfly, sporting in the air, and living by suction upon the honey of plants. what has nature produced more worthy of our admiration than such an animal, coming upon the stage of the world, and playing its part there under so many different masks?" the ancients were so struck with the transformations of the butterfly, and its revival from a seeming temporary death, as to have considered it an emblem of the soul, the greek word _pysche_ signifying both the soul and a butterfly; and it is for this reason that we find the butterfly introduced into their allegorical sculptures as an emblem of immortality. trifling, therefore, and perhaps contemptible, as to the unthinking may seem the study of a butterfly, yet when we consider the art and mechanism displayed in so minute a structure,--the fluids circulating in vessels so small as almost to escape the sight--the beauty of the wings and covering--and the manner in which each part is adapted for its peculiar functions,--we cannot but be struck with wonder and admiration, and allow, with paley, that "the production of beauty was as much in the creator's mind in painting a butterfly as in giving symmetry to the human form." a collection of insects is to the true naturalist what a collection of medals is to the accurate student of history. the mere collector, who looks only to the shining wings of the one, or the green rust of the other, derives little knowledge from his pursuit. but the cabinet of the naturalist becomes rich in the most interesting subjects of contemplation, when he regards it in the genuine spirit of scientific inquiry. what, for instance, can be so delightful as to examine the wonderful variety of structure in this portion of the creation; and, above all, to trace the beautiful gradations by which one species runs into another? their differences are so minute, that an unpractised eye would proclaim their identity; and yet, when the species are separated, and not very distantly, they become visible even to the common observer. it is in examinations such as these that the naturalist finds a delight of the highest order. while it is thus one of the legitimate objects of his study to attend to minute differences of structure, form, and colouring, he is not less interested in the investigation of habits and economy; and in this respect the insect world is inexhaustibly rich. we find herein examples of instinct to parallel those of all the larger animals, whether they are solitary or social; and innumerable others besides, altogether unlike those manifested in the superior departments of animated nature. these instincts have various directions, and are developed in a more or less striking manner to our senses, according to the force of the motive by which they are governed. some of their instincts have for their object the preservation of insects from external attack; some have reference to procuring food, and involve many remarkable stratagems; some direct their social economy, and regulate the condition under which they live together either in monarchies or republics, their colonizations, and their migrations; but the most powerful instinct which belongs to insects has regard to the preservation of their species. we find, accordingly, that as the necessity for this preservation is of the utmost importance in the economy of nature, so for this especial object many insects, whose offspring, whether in the egg or the larva state, are peculiarly exposed to danger, are endued with an almost miraculous foresight, and with an ingenuity, perseverance, and unconquerable industry, for the purpose of avoiding those dangers, which are not to be paralleled even by the most singular efforts of human contrivance. the same ingenuity which is employed for protecting either eggs, or caterpillars and grubs, or pupæ and chrysalides, is also exercised by many insects for their own preservation against the changes of temperature to which they are exposed, or against their natural enemies. many species employ those contrivances during the period of their hibernation, or winter sleep. for all these purposes some dig holes in the earth, and form them into cells; others build nests of extraneous substances, such as bits of wood and leaves; others roll up leaves into cases, which they close with the most curious art; others build a house of mud, and line it with the cotton of trees, or the petals of the most delicate flowers; others construct cells, of secretions from their own bodies; others form cocoons, in which they undergo their transformation; and others dig subterraneous galleries, which, in their complexity of arrangement, in solidity, and in complete adaptation to their purposes, vie with the cities of civilised man. the contrivances by which insects effect these objects have been accurately observed and minutely described, by patient and philosophical inquirers, who knew that such employments of the instinct with which each species is endowed by its creator offered the most valuable and instructive lessons, and opened to them a wide field of the most delightful study. the construction of their habitations is certainly among the most remarkable peculiarities in the economy of insects; and it is of this subject that we propose to treat under the general name, which is sufficiently applicable to our purpose, of insect architecture. in the descriptions which we shall give of insect architecture, we shall employ as few technical words as possible: and such as we cannot well avoid, we shall explain in their places; but, since our subject chiefly relates to the reproduction of insects, it may be useful to many readers to introduce here a brief description of the changes which they undergo. [illustration: magnified eggs, of _a_, _geometra armillata_; _b_, of an unknown water insect; _c_, of the lacquey moth; _d_, of a caddis-fly (_phryganea atrata_); _e_, of red under-wing moth (_catocala nupta_); _f_, of _pontia brassicæ_; _g_, of the clifden nonpareil moth.] it was of old believed that insects were produced spontaneously by putrefying substances; and virgil gives the details of a process for _creating_ a swarm of bees out of the carcase of a bull; but redi, a celebrated italian naturalist, proved by rigid experiments that they are always, in such cases, hatched from _eggs_ previously laid. most insects, indeed, lay eggs, though some few are viviparous, and some propagate both ways. the eggs of insects are very various in form, and seldom shaped like those of birds. we have here figured those of several species, as they appear under the microscope. when an insect first issues from the egg, it is called by naturalists _larva_, and, popularly, a caterpillar, a grub, or a maggot. the distinction, in popular language, seems to be, that _caterpillars_ are produced from the eggs of moths or butterflies; _grubs_ from the eggs of beetles, bees, wasps, &c.; and _maggots_ (which are without feet) from blow-flies, house-flies, cheese-flies, &c., though this is not very rigidly adhered to in common parlance. maggots are also sometimes called _worms_, as in the instance of the meal-worm; but the common earth-worm is not a larva, nor is it by modern naturalists ranked among insects. [illustration: _a_, ametabolous pupa of cicada; _b_, caterpillar of tussock moth (_laria fascelina_); _c_, larva of the poplar beetle (_chrysomela populi_); _d_, larva of sinex; _e_, larva of the common gnat.] there are, however, certain larvæ, as those of the cicada, the crickets, the water-boatman (_notonecta_), the cockroach, &c., which resemble the perfect insects in form, excepting that they are destitute of wings; but in the pupa state these appear in a rudimentary condition, at least in such species as have wings in the mature stage of existence. the pupæ are active and eat. insects, the larvæ and pupæ of which are so similar to the adults, are termed _ametabolous_ (_a_, without, [greek: metabolê], change); those the larvæ of which undergo changes of a marked character, _metabolous_ (_insecta ametabola_ and _insecta metabola_, burmeister). larvæ are remarkably small at first, but grow rapidly. the full-grown caterpillar of the goat-moth (_cossus ligniperda_) is thus seventy-two thousand times heavier than when it issues from the egg; and the maggot of the blow-fly is, in twenty-four hours, one hundred and fifty-five times heavier than at its birth. some larvæ have feet, others are without; none have wings. they cannot propagate. they feed voraciously on coarse substances; and as they increase in size, which they do very rapidly, they cast their skins three or four times. in defending themselves from injury, and in preparing for their change by the construction of secure abodes, they manifest great ingenuity and mechanical skill. the figures on the preceding page exemplify various forms of insects in this stage of their existence. [illustration: _a_, pupa of a water-beetle (_hydrophilus_); _b_, pupa of _sphinx ligustri_.] when larvæ are full grown, they cast their skins for the last time, undergo a complete change of form, excepting in the case of ametabolous larvæ, cease to eat, and remain nearly motionless. the inner skin of the larva now becomes converted into a membranous or leathery covering, which wraps the insect closely up like a mummy: in this condition it is termed _pupa_, from its resemblance to an infant in swaddling bands. nympha, or nymph, is another term given to insects in this stage;[m] moreover from the pupæ of many of the butterflies appearing gilt as if with gold, the greeks called them _chrysalides_, and the romans _aureliæ_, and hence naturalists frequently call a pupa _chrysalis_, even when it is not gilt. we shall see, as we proceed, the curious contrivances resorted to for protecting insects in this helpless state. the following are examples of insects in the _imago_, or perfect state. [illustration: insects in the imago or perfect state. _a_, _nemopteryx coa_, leach.--_b_, _myrmeleon formicalynx_, fabricius.--_c_, _hesperia comma_, fabricius.--_d_, _nepa cinerea_, linnæus.] after a certain time, the insect which has remained in its pupa-case, like a mass of jelly without shape, is gradually preparing for its final change, when it takes the form of a perfect insect. this state was called by linnæus _imago_, because the insect, having thrown off its mask, becomes a perfect _image_ of its species. of some, this last portion of their existence is very short, others live through a year, and some exist for longer periods. they feed lightly, and never increase in size. the chief object of all is to perpetuate their species, after which the greater number quickly die. it is in this state that they exercise those remarkable instincts for the preservation of their race, which are exhibited in their preparations for the shelter of their eggs, and the nourishment of their larvæ. _chapter ii._ structures for protecting eggs.--mason-wasps; mason-bees; mining-bees. the provisions which are made by the different species of insects for protecting their eggs, appear in many cases to be admirably proportioned to the kind of danger and destruction to which they may be exposed. the eggs themselves, indeed, are not so liable to depredation and injury as the young brood hatched from them; for, like the seeds of plants, they are capable of withstanding greater degrees both of heat and cold than the insects which produce them. according to the experiments of spallanzani, the eggs of frogs that had been exposed to various degrees of artificial heat were scarcely altered in their productive powers by a temperature of 111° of fahrenheit, but they became corrupted after 133°. he tried the same experiment upon tadpoles and frogs, and found they all died at 111°. silkworms died at a temperature of 108°, while their eggs did not entirely cease to be fertile till 144°. the larvæ of flesh-flies perished, while the eggs of the same species continued fertile, at about the same comparative degrees of heat as in the preceding instances. intense cold has a still less effect upon eggs than extreme heat. spallanzani exposed the eggs of silk-worms to an artificial cold 23° below zero, and yet, in the subsequent spring, they all produced caterpillars. insects almost invariably die at the temperature of 14°, that is, at 18° below the freezing point.[n] the care of insects for the protection of their eggs is not entirely directed to their preservation in the most favourable temperature for being hatched, but to secure them against the numerous enemies which would attempt their destruction; and, above all, to protect the grubs, when they are first developed, from those injuries to which they are peculiarly exposed. their prospective contrivances for accomplishing these objects are in the highest degree curious. most persons have more or less acquaintance with the hives of the social species of bees and wasps; but little is generally known of the nests constructed by the solitary species, though in many respects these are not inferior to the others in displays of ingenuity and skill. we admire the social bees, labouring together for one common end, in the same way that we look with delight upon the great division of labour in a well-ordered manufactory. as in a cotton-mill some attend to the carding of the raw material, some to its formation into single threads, some to the gathering these threads upon spindles, others to the union of many threads into one,--all labouring with invariable precision because they attend to a single object;--so do we view with delight and wonder the successive steps by which the hive-bees bring their beautiful work to its completion,--striving, by individual efforts, to accomplish their general task, never impeding each other by useless assistance, each taking a particular department, and each knowing its own duties. we may, however, not the less admire the solitary wasp or bee, who begins and finishes every part of its destined work; just as we admire the ingenious mechanic who perfects something useful or ornamental entirely by the labour of his own hands,--whether he be the patient chinese carver, who cuts the most elaborately-decorated boxes out of a solid piece of ivory, or the turner of europe, who produces every variety of elegant form by the skilful application of the simplest means. our island abounds with many varieties of solitary wasps and bees; and their nests may therefore be easily discovered by those who, in the proper seasons, are desirous of observing the peculiarities of their architecture. [illustration: _odynerus._--natural size.] mason-wasps. in september, 1828, a common species of solitary mason-wasp (_odynerus_, latr.) was observed by us (j. r.) on the east wall of a house at lee, in kent, very busy in excavating a hole in one of the bricks, about five feet from the ground. whether there might not have been an accidental hole in the brick before the wasp commenced her labours, is unknown, as she had made considerable progress in the work when first observed: but the brick was one of the hardest of the yellow sort made in this neighbourhood. the most remarkable circumstance in the process of hewing into the brick was the care of the insect in removing to a distance the fragments which from time to time she succeeded in detaching. it did not appear to suit her design to wear down the brick, particle by particle, as the furniture beetle (_anobium pertinax_) does in making its pin-hole galleries in old wood. our wasp-architect, on the contrary, by means of her strong _tranchant_-toothed jaws, severed a piece usually about the bigness of a mustard-seed. it might have been supposed that these fragments would have been tossed out of the hole as the work proceeded, without further concern; as the mole tosses above ground the earth which has been cleared out of its subterranean gallery. the wasp was of a different opinion; for it was possible that a heap of brick chips, at the bottom of the wall, might lead to the discovery of her nest by some of her enemies, particularly by one or other of the numerous tribe of what are called _ichneumon_-flies. this name is given to them, from the similarity of their habit of destroying eggs, to that of the little animal which proves so formidable an enemy to the multiplication of the crocodile of egypt. they may be also denominated _cuckoo_-flies, because, like that bird, they thrust their egg into the nest of another species. these flies are continually prowling about and prying into every corner, to find, by stealth, a nidus for their eggs. it might have been some such consideration as this which induced the wasp to carry off the fragments as they were successively detached. that concealment was the motive, indeed, was proved: for one of the fragments which fell out of the hole by accident, she immediately sought for at the bottom of the wall, and carried off like the rest. it was no easy matter to get out one of the fragments, as may readily be conceived when the size of the insect is compared with that of the entrance of which this ([illustration]) is the exact size, as taken from the impression of a bit of dough upon the hole when finished. it was only by seizing the fragment with her jaws, and retreating backwards, that the matter could be accomplished; though, after the interior of the excavation was barely large enough to admit of her turning round, she more than once attempted to make her exit head-foremost, but always unsuccessfully. the weight of the fragments removed did not appear to impede her flight, and she generally returned to her task in about two or three minutes. [illustration: mandibles--jaws of mason-wasp.--greatly magnified.] within two days the excavation was completed; but it required two other days to line it with a coating of clay, to deposit the eggs, two in number, and, no doubt, to imprison a few live spiders or caterpillars for the young when hatched--a process which was first observed by ray and willughby,[o] but which has since been frequently ascertained. in the present instance, this peculiarity was not seen; but the little architect was detected in closing up the entrance, which was formed of a layer of clay more than double the thickness of the interior lining. in november following, we hewed away the brick around this nest, and found the whole excavation was rather less than an inch in depth. [illustration: cuckoo-fly (_tachina larvarum?_).--natural size.] notwithstanding all the precautions of the careful parent to conceal her nest it was found out by one of the cuckoo-flies (_tachina larvarum?_)--probably a common species very similar to the house-fly, but rather larger, which deposited an egg there; and the grub hatched from it, after devouring one of the wasp-grubs, formed itself a cocoon (_a_), as did the other undevoured grub of the wasp (_b_). both awaited the return of summer to change into winged insects, burst their cerements, and proceed as their parents did. [illustration: mason-wasp's nest and cocoons.--about one-third the natural size.] [illustration: mason-wasp (_odynerus murarius_).--natural size.] another mason-wasp (_odynerus murarius_, latr.), differing little in appearance from the former, may often be seen frequenting sandy banks exposed to the sun, and constructing its singular burrows. the sort of sand-bank which it selects is hard and compact; and though this may be more difficult to penetrate, the walls are not liable to fall down upon the little miner. in such a bank, the mason-wasp bores a tubular gallery two or three inches deep. the sand upon which réaumur found some of these wasps at work was almost as hard as stone, and yielded with difficulty to his nail; but the wasps dug into it with ease, having recourse, as he ascertained, to the ingenious device of moistening it by letting fall two or three drops of fluid from their mouth, which rendered the mass ductile, and the separation of the grains easy to the double pickaxe of the little pioneers. [illustration: nests, &c., of mason-wasps.--about half the natural size. _a_, the tower of the nest; _b_, the entrance after the tower is removed; _c_, the cell; _d_, the cell, with a roll of caterpillars prepared for the larva.] when this wasp has detached a few grains of the moistened sand, it kneads them together into a pellet about the size of one of the seeds of a gooseberry. with the first pellet which it detaches, it lays the foundation of a round tower, as an outwork, immediately over the mouth of its nest. every pellet which it afterwards carries off from the interior is added to the wall of this outer round tower, which advances in height as the hole in the sand increases in depth. every two or three minutes, however, during these operations, it takes a short excursion, for the purpose, probably, of replenishing its store of fluid wherewith to moisten the sand. yet so little time is lost, that réaumur has seen a mason-wasp dig in an hour a hole the length of its body, and at the same time build as much of its round tower. for the greater part of its height this round tower is perpendicular; but towards the summit it bends into a curve, corresponding to the bend of the insect's body, which in all cases of insect architecture, is the model followed. the pellets which form the walls of the tower are not very nicely joined, and numerous vacuities are left between them, giving it the appearance of filigree-work. that it should be thus slightly built is not surprising, for it is intended as a temporary structure for protecting the insect while it is excavating its hole, and as a pile of materials, well arranged and ready at hand, for the completion of the interior building,--in the same way that workmen make a regular pile of bricks near the spot where they are going to build. this seems, in fact, to be the main design of the tower, which is taken down as expeditiously as it had been reared. réaumur thinks that, by piling in the sand which has previously been dug out, the wasp intends to guard her progeny for a time from being exposed to the too violent heat of the sun; and he has even sometimes seen that there were not sufficient materials in the tower, in which case the wasp had recourse to the rubbish she had thrown out after the tower was completed. by raising a tower of the materials which she excavates, the wasp produces the same shelter from external heat as a human creature would who chose to inhabit a deep cellar of a high house. she further protects her progeny from the ichneumon-fly, as the engineer constructs an outwork to render more difficult the approach of an enemy to the citadel. réaumur has seen this indefatigable enemy of the wasp peep into the mouth of the tower, and then retreat, apparently frightened at the depth of the cell which he was anxious to invade. the mason-wasp does not furnish the cell she has thus constructed with pollen and honey, like the solitary bees, but with living caterpillars, and these always of the same species--being of a green colour, and without feet. she fixes the caterpillars together in a spiral column: they cannot alter their position, although they remain alive. they are an easy prey to their smaller enemy; and when the grub has eaten them all up, it spins a case, and is transformed into a pupa, which afterwards becomes a wasp. the number of caterpillars which is thus found in the lower cavity of the mason-wasp's nest is ordinarily from ten to twelve. the mother is careful to lay in the exact quantity of provision which is necessary to the growth of the grub before he quits his retreat. he works through his store till his increase in this state is perfected, and he is on the point of undergoing a change into another state, in which he requires no food. the careful purveyor, cruel indeed in her choice of a supply, but not the less directed by an unerring instinct, selects such caterpillars as she is conscious have completed their growth, and will remain thus imprisoned without increase or corruption till their destroyer has gradually satisfied the necessities of his being. "all that the worm of the wasp," says réaumur, "has to do in his nest, from his birth to his transformation, is to eat." there is another species of wasp which does not at once enclose in its nest all the sustenance which its larva will require before transformation, but which from time to time imprisons a living caterpillar, and when that is consumed, opens the nest and introduces another. [the upper figure in the accompanying illustration exhibits two of the curious towers built by this interesting insect and drawn of their natural size.] the insect is one of the most plentiful in england, and can be found on sunny days, flitting about sand-banks and making its curious habitations. the length is nearly half an inch, and the colour is black, variegated with five yellow bands upon the abdomen. the lower figure represents the habitations of one of the british solitary wasps, _pompilus punctum_, and is given in order to show a curious resemblance in the structure. the specimen from which the sketch was taken was found under the eaves of a roof which protected a bee-hive. the cells were thirteen in number, very carefully constructed of earth, and several of them were closed. although these cells were not fossorial in their nature, several other species of the same genus are as accomplished burrowers as any insect. _pompilus plumbeus_, for example, another black species, burrows into sand, and is very plentiful on our more southern shores. it may usually be found hovering about sand-banks, and flitting about with such agility that it is by no means an easy insect to catch. the male is peculiarly apt to evade the stroke of the entomologist's net. [illustration] [illustration] then there is _pompilus rufipes_, which is a black insect, but distinguished by the conspicuous red colour of the hind legs. this is very fond of our coasts, and may be found wherever the soil is suitable for its excavations. many species of this genus carry off spiders for the purpose of provisioning their nests. several species, which live far inland, prefer light and dry earth to sand, and make therein their burrows, preferring our little white spider as the provision for their young. although the same insect may be often observed to carry the same kind of prey to its home, it does not at all follow that no change is ever made. but the most remarkable example of this fact may be found in a very common swift-winged insect, black in colour, with a reddish patch on the end of the abdomen. its name is _trachytes pompiliformis_, and it generally stocks its nest with small caterpillars. mr. f. smith, however, has taken it when in the act of carrying off a small species of grasshopper--certainly the very last insect that would be thought of as likely to be immured by a captor which must be scarcely larger than itself. this insect is to be found in most warm and sandy situations, and may be looked for at the end of summer and beginning of autumn. it may be easily known by its red spot on the abdomen, and the large, transverse head; it is wider than the thorax. one species of mining-bee, not often found in england, chooses some very singular insects wherewith to feed its young. its name is _philanthus triangulum_, and it is a very fierce, waspish-looking creature, with a large wide head, wider even than the thorax, sharp and powerful jaws, and with broad wings. the head and thighs are black, with a few spots of a yellowish white, and the abdomen is yellow, with a black spot in the middle of each segment. its length rather exceeds half an inch. the actions of this insect do not belie its looks, for it is a fierce and active creature, seizing upon various bees and dragging them into its tunnel. mr. f. smith discovered the metropolis of this usually scarce insect at sandown bay, in the isle of wight, and has given an interesting description of its habits. he states that although it is so ferocious towards other insects, it appears to be perfectly harmless as far as man is concerned, allowing itself to be handled without even attempting to use its sting. indeed, he was quite unable to provoke the insect to do so. various bees were captured by the philanthus, and the favourites seemed to belong to the genus andrena, itself a burrowing bee, and the common hive-bee. the philanthus seemed perfectly indifferent whether they attacked the comparatively small and feeble andrena, or the formidable hive-bee, taking them as they came, and caring nothing for the sting. the philanthus that burrowed on the top of the cliff, seemed to prefer the hive-bee, because the red clover attracted greater numbers of that insect. those that made their burrows at the top of the cliff, took the andrenæ. of course, the philanthus is obliged to catch more of the andrenæ than the hive bees. only one species of this genus is known in england; it is to be found in july and august. there is a very large genus of rather small humming-bees, many of which are popularly mistaken for wasps, on account of their sharply pointed and yellow banded abdomen; they belong to the genus crabro, and are extremely variable in the material into which they burrow, and the insects with which they feed their young. some species burrow into dry bramble sticks. if the reader should wish to obtain specimens of them, as well as other burrowers, he will find bramble, rose, and jessamine sticks most prolific in them. the best plan is to collect a quantity of these sticks and put them into glass tubes, with the ends stopped with wire gauze; there is then an absolute certainty of identifying the insect with its habitation. the spring is the best time for collecting. sometimes these creatures are afflicted with parasites, which also are detained in the tube, so as to yield valuable information to the captor. some species burrow in sand-banks and feed their young with gnats, others burrow into dead timber, and stock their tunnels with flies of various kinds. one very useful species, _crabro lævis_, burrows in sand-banks, and provisions its nest with the noxious turnip-fleas (_halticæ_), great numbers of which are needed to stock a single burrow. it is rather a social insect, many burrows being often found near each other. the turnip-flea has so hard a shell, that the young crabro seems hardly capable of eating it. mr. smith, however, has remarked that another burrowing-bee stocks its nest with certain weevils that are almost too hard to be pierced with a pin, and that the shell is probably softened by the damp ground. the greater number of this group, however, are burrowers into the ground, and stock their nests with flies of some kind. another species of this large genus, _crabro luteipalpis_, is fond of making its burrows in the mortar of old walls, preferring those spots where nails have been drawn, making the process of burrowing easier for the insect. it is not uncommon in the outskirts of london. all gardeners, especially those who cultivate roses, ought to encourage this very little insect, and welcome its presence, for it provisions its nest with the aphides, or green blight, which infect the rose-trees, and which have destroyed so many promising plants. the female, which is the larger of the two sexes, measures only three lines in length. the colour is shining black, and the head is rather squared. among other burrowing species of this genus we may mention _crabro varius_, a rather long and slender insect, black in colour, with yellow spottings about the thorax. it prefers very hard fine sand, such as is found in partially excavated sand-banks, and provisions its burrows with gnats. it is tolerably plentiful. our last example of the earth-burrowers belonging to this genus is _crabro wesmoeli_, which chooses similar localities, being mostly found in sand-banks. it carries off flies of different kinds for the food of its young. there is a very common insect, closely allied to the last mentioned genus, whose horns are worthy of notice. this is called _typoxylon figulus_. it is a small creature, with a large head and slender abdomen. its colour is black, and on the edges of the segments of the abdomen there is a little silvery shining down. it generally burrows into light earth, though it sometimes drives its tunnel into decayed wood. in either case, it provisions its nest with spiders, flying into the hedges, pulling the unfortunate spiders out of their webs, and carrying them into the burrow. one burrow contains a series of cells, which are separated from each other by partitions of sand, the particles of which are firmly cemented together by some glutinous substance secreted by the insect. some species of this genus burrow into the pith of the bramble and other shrubs. one of the most determined of our british burrowers is the insect which is known by the name of _ammophila sabulosa_. it has a large, squared head, wider than the thorax, a very long and slender body, and short though powerful wings. the colour is black, with a slight rust-red tint on the base of the abdomen. when the female has dug her burrow, she sets off in search of a caterpillar of proportionate size, and having conveyed it into her dwelling, she affixes an egg to the imprisoned larva, and goes off in search of another, carefully stopping up the entrance with stones. in fine weather she will fill one burrow with caterpillars in a few hours, and then begin another nursery for the future young. this species appears always to make use of caterpillars, but another allied species prefers spiders. mr. f. smith mentions that he has found in a high sand-bank as many as twenty females apparently hibernating together till suitable weather enabled them to pursue their usual economy. there really seems to be scarcely any genus of insect that is not seized upon by one or other of these burrowers, and packed away in a half living state to form food for their young. there is one of these solitary burrowing wasps called the _astata boops_, deriving its specific name from its large round eyes, which in the male completely unite at the back of the head. the abdomen is shaped something like a boy's peg-top, or a symmetrical turnip, the peg of the top, or the point of the turnip, corresponding to the top of the abdomen. its length is about half an inch, and its colour is black, with a rust-red patch on the end of the abdomen. there is a remarkably pretty, and very variable, sand-wasp, which is plentiful in most parts of the country. the colour is black, and the abdomen is banded by four yellow bars. its feet are also yellow. mr. smith has written a very interesting account of the proceedings of this insect. "having frequently observed the habits of the type of this genus, _mellinus arvensis_, and reared it from the larva state, a few observations are here recorded. when the parent insect has formed a burrow of the required length, and enlarged the extremity into a chamber of proper dimensions, she issues forth in search of the proper nutriment for her young; this consists of various dipterous insects: species of various genera are equally adapted to her purpose--_muscidæ_, _syrphidæ_, &c., are captured. "it is amusing to see four or five females lie in wait upon a patch of cow-dung until some luckless fly settles on it. when this happens, a cunning and gradual approach is made; a sudden attempt would not succeed. the fly is the insect of quickest flight, therefore a degree of intrigue is necessary. this is managed by running past the victim slowly, and apparently in an unconcerned manner, until the poor fly is caught unawares, and carried off by the mellinus to its burrow. the first fly being deposited, an egg is laid. the necessary number of flies are soon secured, and her task is completed. sometimes she is interrupted by rainy weather, and it is some days ere she can store up the quantity required. "a larva found feeding became full-fed in ten days. six flies were devoured, the heads, harder parts of the throat, portions of the abdomen, and the legs, being left untouched. the larva spins a tough, thin, brown silken cocoon, passes the winter and spring in the larva state, changes to the nymph on the approach of summer, and appears about the beginning of autumn in the perfect state." there is a genus of hymenopterous insects known by the name of _scolia_, which are remarkable for their fossorial powers. the species represented in the engraving is called _scolia xantiana_, and is a native of california. when the female scolia is about to fulfil the great object for which she came into the world, she looks about for a suitable spot, where the ground is not too hard, and digs a perpendicular burrow of some depth, enlarging it at the bottom, and digging horizontally, so that the general shape of the burrow somewhat resembles that of a boot. when the burrow is completed, the insect flies off in search of food for its young, and presently returns, bearing with her a grub, which she clasps tightly under her chest, so that her wings may be at liberty. she then takes the grub to the bottom of the tunnel, deposits an egg upon it, and if the grub be a small one, goes off to fetch another. when a sufficiency of food has been obtained, she covers up the grub and egg and leaves the latter to its fate. in due time it is hatched, and begins straightway to feed upon its unfortunate fellow-prisoner. when all the food is gone, it is old enough to assume the perfect form, and when it finally becomes a perfect insect, it makes its way into the open air, and straightway looks out for a mate. [illustration] an european species of this genus, which is called _scolia flavifrons_, is remarkable for the four large, round spots on the upper surface of the abdomen. this species always feeds its young on the grub of a beetle, one of the lamellicorn group, and in this case the grub is so large that one is sufficient. in the illustration, the left hand figure shows a section of the burrow of _scolia xantiana_, and exhibits the enlarged portion of the tunnel in which are placed the young scolia and the unfortunate grub which has to serve it for food. the insect itself is seen in the centre. for figures 3 and 4 the reader is referred to the heading "spiders." there is another british insect which feeds its young with flies, and which catches them in a manner somewhat similar to that which has recently been narrated when treating of the mellinus. the insect in question is called _oxybelus unuglumis_, and is a very pretty species. its length is seldom much more than a quarter of an inch, and its colour is black, with some silvery hair about the face, and with some spots and bands of white, more or less yellowish, upon the pointed abdomen. the male is usually smaller than the female, but compensates for this want of size by his more brilliant colouring. mr. f. smith has described to me the method employed by this insect in catching flies. in the air it would not have a chance of success, and so it proceeds after a fashion very much like that which is adopted by the hunting-spider. choosing some spot where flies are likely to settle, such as a bare, sunny bank, the oxybelus alights upon it and begins to run about without any apparent motive. at first the flies are rather alarmed, but after a while they become accustomed to the rapid movements of their foe, and allow it to come nearer and nearer the cause of its perambulations. as soon as it has succeeded in drawing within a few inches of a fly, the oxybelus leaps upon it, just like the hunting spider on its prey, and flies off before the victim knows that an attack is even meditated. the burrow of this species is made in hard white sand. several species of the genus _cerceris_ are noted, not only as burrowers, but for the exceeding variety of the food which they store in their dwellings. the most common species, _cerceris arenaria_, makes its tunnel in hard, sandy spots, and is usually to be found about the middle of july and august. the length of this insect rather exceeds half an inch, and its colour is black, profusely spotted and barred with yellow. it is rather slenderly made, and gives little external indications of the great strength which it possesses. this insect prefers to stock its nest with weevils of different kinds--a most singular choice, when the hardness of the exterior is taken into consideration. the well-known nut-weevil (_balaninus nucum_), with its hard, round body, and long mouth, is frequently taken by this species of cerceris, and mr. smith further mentions that he has captured it in the act of taking the weevil called _otiorhynchus sulcatus_ to its nest. this beetle is among the most noxious of our garden foes, and the more so because its ravages are unseen. in its larval state it infests the roots of many of our succulent plants and flowers, and has a habit of eating away the plant just at the junction of the root and stem. even flowers in pots are apt to be infested by this insect, and often die without the cause of their death being discovered. it is about half an inch in length, white, and is destitute of feet, their office being performed by bundles of stiff hairs, which are dispersed round the body. in its perfect state it is about the third of an inch in length, the colour is black, covered with a coating of very fine and short grey hairs, and along its back are a number of short longitudinal grooves. from this latter circumstance it derives its name of "_sulcatus_," or grooved. the exterior of this beetle is extremely hard, even exceptionally so among the hard-bodied weevils. it is extremely difficult to get a pin through the body, and the entomologist is often obliged to bore a hole with a stout needle before the pin can be inserted. yet, the cerceris uses this insect as the food of its young, and stores them away in its burrow. that the young should eat them seems as impossible as if a lobster or a box-tortoise had been inserted in their place. it is, however, thought by most practical entomologists that the shell of the weevil is softened by lying in the damp ground, and that as the young is not hatched for several days after the burrow is sealed up, the hard wing cases have time to soften. another species of the same genus, _cerceris interrupta_, has the curious habit of making its burrow in the hardest ground which it can penetrate, and is generally to be found in well used footpaths. this species also uses weevils for the food of its young, but prefers those small weevils which are classed under the genus _apion_, and which are readily known by their pear-shaped bodies and rather elongated heads. [there are about seventy species of _apion_, so that the cerceris has plenty of choice.] mason-bees. it would not be easy to find a more simple, and, at the same time, ingenious specimen of insect architecture than the nests of those species of solitary bees which have been justly called mason-bees (_megachile_, latreille). réaumur, who was struck by the analogies between the proceedings of insects and human arts, first gave to bees, wasps, and caterpillars those names which indicate the character of their labours; and which, though they may be considered a little fanciful, are at least calculated to arrest the attention. the nests of mason-bees are constructed of various materials; some with sand, some with earth mixed with chalk, and some with a mixture of earthy substances and wood. [illustration: mason-bee (_anthophora retusa_).--natural size.] on the north-east wall of greenwich park, facing the road, and about four feet from the ground, we discovered (j. r.), december 10th, 1828, the nest of a mason-bee, formed in the perpendicular line of cement between two bricks. externally there was an irregular cake of dry mud, precisely as if a handful of wet road-stuff had been taken from a cart-rut and thrown against the wall; though, upon closer inspection, the cake contained more small stones than usually occur in the mud of the adjacent cart-ruts. we should in fact have passed it by without notice had there not been a circular hole on one side of it, indicating the perforation of some insect. this hole was found to be the orifice of a cell about an inch deep, exactly of the form and size of a lady's thimble, finely polished, and of the colour of plaster-of-paris, but stained in various places with yellow. [illustration: exterior wall of mason-bee's nest.] this cell was empty; but, upon removing the cake of mud, we discovered another cell, separated from the former by a partition about a quarter of an inch thick, and in it a living bee, from which the preceding figure was drawn, and which, as we supposed, had just changed from the pupa to the winged state, in consequence of the uncommon mildness of the weather. the one which had occupied the adjacent cell had no doubt already dug its way out of its prison, and would probably fall a victim to the first frost. [illustration: cells of a mason-bee (_anthophora retusa_).--one-third the natural size.] our nest contained only two cells--perhaps from there not being room between the bricks for more. [there are only four british species of this genus. one species, _a. acervorum_, seems perfectly indifferent whether it burrows into banks or into the mortar of old walls. if possible, the former locality seems to be the most favoured. this species is notable for the many parasites who infect the habitation and destroy the inmates. perhaps the very worst and most destructive of these parasites is the common earwig, which wreaks wholesale desolation in the nest. it creeps into the burrow, and if it finds a store of pollen laid up for the young, it will eat the pollen. but if the young grub be hatched it will eat the grub. if the inmate be in the pupal state, or even if it be ready to emerge in its perfect condition, the earwig will eat it. there are two bees which are parasitic upon this unfortunate insect, both belonging the genus _melecta_. but the most destructive of these parasites appears to be an insect which belongs to the great family of _chalcididæ_. these insects are of the hymenopterous order, are of very minute dimensions, and of the most brilliant colours. indeed, if they were an inch or two in length, instead of the eighth or twelfth of an inch, they would not suffer in comparison with the most gorgeous inhabitants of tropical countries. their forms are most eccentric, some species having the abdomen small and round and set on a long footstalk, while others have that portion of the body placed so closely against the thorax, that the short footstalk is scarcely visible. others have certain joints of the legs so large that a single joint equals the entire abdomen. some have the ovipositor projecting boldly from the body, while others have it tucked up underneath, and others again have it quite short. but there is one point which distinguishes them all, namely, the almost veinless character of the wings. some of the _chalcididæ_ are parasitic upon insects in their earliest stages, actually depositing their eggs in those of moths and butterflies. others are entirely parasitic upon parasites, laying their eggs in the aphidii, which are parasites of the aphis. some of them haunt the galls, and contrive to make their young parasitic upon the immature cynipidæ which lie within the gall. the common small tortoise-shell butterfly is terribly infested with these little creatures, and we have bred hundreds of the gem-like _chalcididæ_ from the larvæ and pupæ of that butterfly. one of the _chalcididæ_, belonging to the genus _melittobia_, is a parasite upon the _anthophora_; and the curious part of the proceeding is, that it finds there another parasite, which becomes developed in the home of the bee: the _melittobia_ feeds indiscriminately upon the bee and parasite. although the _melittobia_ does not make such wholesale destruction as is wrought by the earwig when it gets into a nest, it does more damage to the bee, on account of its great numbers. some three or four females will lay a great quantity of eggs within a nest, and from those eggs a hundred of the young will be developed. when the larvæ are fully grown, they quit their hold of their prey, and fall to the bottom of the cell, where they lie until they have assumed the perfect form. they then burst forth, together with those of the bee that may have escaped their attacks.] an interesting account is given by réaumur of another mason-bee (_megachile muraria_), not a native of britain, selecting earthy sand, grain by grain; her glueing a mass of these together with saliva, and building with them her cells from the foundation. but the cells of the greenwich park nest were apparently composed of the mortar of the brick wall; though the external covering seems to have been constructed as réaumur describes his nest, with the occasional addition of small stones. about the middle of may, 1829, we discovered the mine from which all the various species of mason-bees in the vicinity seemed to derive materials for their nests. (j. r.) it was a bank of brown clay, facing the east, and close by the margin of the river ravensbourn, at lee, in kent. the frequent resort of the bees to this spot attracted the attention of some workmen, who, deceived by their resemblance to wasps, pointed it out as a wasps' nest; though they were not a little surprised to see so numerous a colony at this early season. as the bees had dug a hole in the bank, where they were incessantly entering and reappearing, we were of opinion that they were a peculiar sort of the social earth-bees (_bombi_). on approaching the spot, however, we remarked that the bees were not alarmed, and manifested none of the irritation usual in such cases, the consequence of jealous affection for their young. this led us to observe their operations more minutely; and we soon discovered that on issuing from the hole each bee carried out in its mandibles a piece of clay. still supposing that they were social earth-bees, we concluded that they were busy excavating a hollow for their nest, and carrying off the refuse to prevent discovery. the mouth of the hole was overhung, and partly concealed, by a large pebble. this we removed, and widened the entrance of the hole, intending to dig down and ascertain the state of the operations; but we soon found that it was of small depth. the bees, being scared away, began scooping out clay from another hole about a yard distant from the first. upon our withdrawing a few feet from the first hole, they returned thither in preference, and continued assiduously digging and removing the clay. it became obvious, therefore, from their thus changing place, that they were not constructing a nest, but merely quarrying for clay as a building material. by catching one of the bees (_osmia bicornis_) when it was loaded with its burden, we ascertained that the clay was not only carefully kneaded, but was also more moist than the mass from which it had been taken. the bee, therefore, in preparing the pellet, which was nearly as large as a garden-pea, had moistened it with its saliva, or some similar fluid, to render it, we may suppose, more tenacious, and better fitted for building. the reason of their digging a hole, instead of taking clay indiscriminately from the bank, appeared to be for the purpose of economizing their saliva, as the weather was dry, and the clay at the surface was parched and hard. it must have been this circumstance which induced them to prefer digging a hole, as it were, in concert, though each of them had to build a separate nest. the distance to which they carried the clay was probably considerable, as there was no wall near, in the direction they all flew towards, upon which they could build; and in the same direction also, it is worthy of remark, they could have procured much nearer the very same sort of clay. whatever might be the cause of their preference, we could not but admire their extraordinary industry. it did not require more than half a minute to knead one of the pellets of clay; and, from their frequent returns, probably not more than five minutes to carry it to the nest, and apply it where wanted. from the dryness of the weather, indeed, it was indispensable for them to work rapidly, otherwise the clay could not have been made to hold together. the extent of the whole labour of forming a single nest may be imagined, if we estimate that it must take several hundred pellets of clay for its completion. if a bee work fourteen or fifteen hours a-day, therefore, carrying ten or twelve pellets to its nest every hour, it will be able to finish the structure in about two or three days; allowing some hours of extra time for the more nice workmanship of the cells in which the eggs are to be deposited, and the young grubs reared. that the construction of such a nest is not a merely agreeable exercise to the mason-bee has been sufficiently proved by m. du hamel. he has observed a bee (_megachile muraria_) less careful to perform the necessary labour for the protection of her offspring than those we have described, but not less desirous of obtaining this protection, attempt to usurp the nest which another had formed. a fierce battle was invariably the consequence of this attempt; for the true mistress would never give place to the intruder. the motive for the injustice and the resistance was an indisposition to further labour. the trial of strength was probably, sometimes, of as little use in establishing the right as it is amongst mankind; and the proper owner, exhausted by her efforts, had doubtless often to surrender to the dishonest usurper. the account which réaumur has given of the operations of this class of bees differs considerably from that which we have here detailed; from the species being different, or from his bees not having been able to procure moist clay. on the contrary, sand was the chief material used by the mason-bees (_megachile muraria_); which they had the patience to select from the walks of a garden, and knead into a paste or mortar, adapted to their building. they had consequently to expend a much greater quantity of saliva than our bees (_osmia bicornis_), which worked with moist clay. réaumur, indeed, ascertained that every individual grain of sand is moistened previous to its being joined to the pellet, in order to make it adhere more effectually. the tenacity of the mass is, besides, rendered stronger, he tells us, by adding a proportion of earth or garden-mould. in this manner, a ball of mortar is formed, about the size of a small shot, and carried off to the nest. when the structure of this is examined, it has all the appearance externally of being composed of earth and small stones or gravel. the ancients, who were by no means accurate naturalists, having observed bees carrying pellets of earth and small stones, supposed that they employed these to add to their weight, in order to steady their flight when impeded by the wind. the nests thus constructed appear to have been more durable edifices than those which have fallen under our observation;--for réaumur says they were harder than many sorts of stone, and could scarcely be penetrated with a knife. ours, on the contrary, do not seem harder than a piece of sun-baked clay, and by no means so hard as brick. one circumstance appeared inexplicable to réaumur and his friend du hamel, who studied the operations of these insects in concert. after taking a portion of sand from one part of the garden-walk, the bees usually took another portion from a spot almost twenty and sometimes a hundred paces off, though the sand, so far as could be judged by close examination, was precisely the same in the two places. we should be disposed to refer this more to the restless character of the insect than to any difference in the sand. we have observed a wasp paring the outside of a plank, for materials to form its nest; and though the plank was as uniform in the qualities of its surface, nay, probably more so than the sand could be, the wasp fidgeted about, nibbling a fibre from one, and a fibre from another portion, till enough was procured for one load. in the same way, the whole tribe of wasps and bees flit restlessly from flower to flower, not unfrequently revisiting the same blossom, again and again, within a few seconds. it appears to us, indeed, to be far from improbable, that this very restlessness and irritability may be one of the springs of their unceasing industry. by observing, with some care, the bees which we found digging the clay, we discovered one of them (_osmia bicornis_) at work upon a nest, about a gunshot from the bank. the place it had chosen was the inner wall of a coal-house, facing the south-west, the brick-work of which was but roughly finished. in an upright interstice of half an inch in width, between two of the bricks, we found the little architect assiduously building its walls. the bricklayer's mortar had either partly fallen out, or been removed by the bee, who had commenced building at the lower end, and did not build downwards, as the social wasps construct their cells. the very different behaviour of the insect here, and at the quarry, struck us as not a little remarkable. when digging and preparing the clay, our approach, however near, produced no alarm; the work went on as if we had been at a distance; and though we were standing close to the hole, this did not scare away any of the bees upon their arrival to procure a fresh load. but if we stood near the nest, or even in the way by which the bee flew to it, she turned back or made a wide circuit immediately, as if afraid to betray the site of her domicile. we even observed her turning back, when we were so distant that it could not reasonably be supposed she was jealous of us; but probably she had detected some prowling insect depredator, tracking her flight with designs upon her provision for her future progeny. we imagined we could perceive not a little art in her jealous caution, for she would alight on the tiles as if to rest herself; and even when she had entered the coal-house, she did not go directly to her nest, but again rested on a shelf, and at other times pretended to examine several crevices in the wall, at some distance from the nest. but when there was nothing to alarm her, she flew directly to the spot, and began eagerly to add to the building. it is in instances such as these, which exhibit the adaptation of instinct to circumstances, that our reason finds the greatest difficulty in explaining the governing principle of the minds of the inferior animals. the mason-bee makes her nest by an invariable rule; the model is in her mind, as it has been in the mind of her race from their first creation: they have learnt nothing by experience. but the mode in which they accomplish this task varies according to the situations in which they are placed. they appear to have a glimmering of reason, employed as an accessary and instrument of their instinct. [illustration: cells of mason-bees, built, in the first and second figures, by _osmia bicornis_ between bricks, and in the third, by _megachile muraria_ in the fluting of an old pilaster.--about half the natural size.] the structure, when finished, consisted of a wall of clay supported by two contiguous bricks, enclosing six chambers, within each of which a mass of pollen, rather larger than a cherry-stone, was deposited, together with an egg, from which in due time a grub was hatched. contrary to what has been recorded by preceding naturalists with respect to other mason-bees, we found the cells in this instance quite parallel and perpendicular; but it may also be remarked, that the bee itself was a species altogether different from the one which we have described above as the _anthophora retusa_, and agreed with the figure of the one we caught quarrying the clay--(_osmia bicornis_). [in mr. f. smith's elaborate catalogue of the british hymenoptera there is a most interesting account of the habits of this insect, which is the most abundant species of the genus, and is spread not only over the whole of england, but over the continent, being found as far south as italy and as far north as lapland. "in a hilly country, or at the sea-side, it chooses the sunny side of cliffs or sandy banks in which to form its burrows, but in cultivated districts, particularly if the soil be clayey, it selects a decayed tree, preferring the stump of an old willow. it lays up a store of pollen and honey for the larvæ, which when full grown, spins a tough dark brown cocoon, in which they remain in the larval state until the autumn, when the majority change to pupæ, and soon arrive at their perfect condition. many, however, pass the winter in the larva state. in attempting to account for so remarkable a circumstance, all must be conjecture, but it is not of unfrequent occurrence. this species frequently makes its burrows in the mortar of old walls." another species (_osmia bicolor_) sometimes makes its cells in very peculiar situations. when obliged to have recourse to its natural powers, it uses its limbs right well, attacks the hard sandy banks, and works at them with the greatest perseverance. but it will not work one stroke where it can avoid the necessity, and in many cases, it contrives to avoid work with much ingenuity. lying hidden under hedges, bushes, grass, and herbage, are sure to be shells of various snails, such as the common garden-snail, and the banded-snail, whose diversified shell is the delight of children. these shells the bee thinks are as good as ready-made burrows, and she uses them accordingly. she goes to the end of the shell, carrying her materials with her, and then builds a cell, and fills it with pollen and honey. another cell is then made, and yet another, until the shell is nearly filled. as the shell widens, the _osmia_ places two cells side by side, and when the insect has worked within a short distance of the mouth, she places the cells horizontally, so as to fill up the space. there are several specimens of these curious habitations in the british museum. when the whole series of cells is completed, the bee closes up the entrance with little morsels of earth, bits of stick and little stones, all strongly glued together with some very adhesive substance. another species (_osmia parietina_) has much simpler habits, and is much easier satisfied with a dwelling. this insect merely looks out for a flattish stone lying on the ground, and crawls under it to see if there is any hollow. if so, it attaches the cocoons to the stone and leaves them. on one stone, seen in the british museum, no less than two hundred and thirty cocoons were placed, although the stone is only ten inches in length by six in width. this insect is almost wholly confined to the north of england.] there was one circumstance attending the proceedings of this mason-bee which struck us not a little, though we could not explain it to our own satisfaction. every time she left her nest for the purpose of procuring a fresh supply of materials, she paid a regular visit to the blossoms of a lilac-tree which grew near. had these blossoms afforded a supply of pollen, with which she could have replenished her cells, we could have easily understood her design; but the pollen of the lilac is not suitable for this purpose, and that she had never used it was proved by all the pollen in the cells being yellow, whereas that of the lilac is of the same pale purple colour as the flowers. besides, she did not return immediately from the lilac-tree to the building, but always went for a load of clay. there seemed to us, therefore, to be only two ways to explain the circumstance:--she must either have applied to the lilac-blossoms to obtain a refreshment of honey, or to procure glutinous materials to mix with the clay. when employed upon the building itself, the bee exhibited the restless disposition peculiar to most hymenopterous[p] insects; for she did not go on with one particular portion of her wall, but ran about from place to place every time she came to work. at first, when we saw her running from the bottom to the top of her building, we naturally imagined that she went up for some of the bricklayer's mortar to mix with her own materials; but upon minutely examining the walls afterwards, no lime could be discovered in their structure similar to that which was apparent in the nest found in the wall of greenwich park. réaumur mentions another sort of mason-bee, which selects a small cavity in a stone, in which she forms her nest of garden-mould moistened with gluten, and afterwards closes the whole with the same material. [illustration: cells of _chalicodoma_.] [in the accompanying illustration is shown a series of cells which are constructed by an insect which is closely related to the rose-cutter bee of our own country, to which it bears a close resemblance. it is a native of south africa, and its name is _chalicodoma coelocerus_. the insect is about half an inch in length, and the colour of the head and body is black, that of the abdomen being brick red. the nest is made of mud, which is collected by the patient insect and stuck against walls, trunks of trees, and similar localities. in this lump of mud the insect excavates a small number of burrows, each of which contains several cells. if the reader will refer to the central burrow, he will see that it is divided into three cells. the specimen from which this drawing is taken may be seen in the british museum. there is another south african insect which makes its mud nest, and fastens it against trees and walls. this is called _synagris calida_, and its colour is almost dingy black, the only exception being the red tip to the abdomen. the holes seen in the engraving are the apertures through which the young brood has escaped into the world. the nest is represented of half its natural size.] [illustration] mining-bees. a very small sort of bees (_andrenæ_), many of them not larger than a house-fly, dig in the ground tubular galleries little wider than the diameter of their own bodies. samouelle says, that all of them seem to prefer a southern aspect; but we have found them in banks facing the east, and even the north. immediately above the spot where we have described the mason-bees quarrying the clay, we observed several holes, about the diameter of the stalk of a tobacco-pipe, into which those little bees were seen passing. the clay here was very hard; and on passing a straw into the hole as a director, and digging down for six or eight inches, a very smooth circular gallery was found, terminating in a thimble-shaped horizontal chamber, almost at right angles to the entrance and nearly twice as wide. in this chamber there was a ball of bright yellow pollen, as round as a garden pea, and rather larger, upon which a small white grub was feeding; and to which the mother bee had been adding, as she had just entered a minute before with her thighs loaded with pollen. that it was not the male, the load of pollen determined; for the male has no apparatus for collecting or transporting it. the whole labour of digging the nest and providing food for the young is performed by the female. the females of the solitary bees have no assistance in their tasks. the males are idle; and the females are unprovided with labourers, such as the queens of the hive command. [illustration: cell of mining-bee (_andrena_).--about half the natural size.] réaumur mentions that the bees of this sort, whose operations he had observed, piled up at the entrance of their galleries the earth which they had scooped out from the interior; and when the grub was hatched, and properly provided with food, the earth was again employed to close up the passage, in order to prevent the intrusion of ants, ichneumon-flies, or other depredators. in those which we have observed, this was not the case; but every species differs from another in some little peculiarity, though they agree in the general principles of their operations. [the genus andrena is an exceedingly large one, nearly seventy species being acknowledged in england alone. they choose various situations for their nest; a very favourite situation is a hard-trodden pathway; into this the bees burrow for some six or seven inches, and often drive their tunnels to a depth of ten inches. digging up these habitations is not a very easy task, because the tunnel does not run straight, but turns aside when a stone or any similar obstacle comes in the way, and in getting out the stone the burrow is mostly broken. the only method of digging out the nest successfully is either by pushing a small twig up the hole, and using it as a guide, or by filling the entire hole with cotton wool, so as to prevent the earth from falling in. the commonest species is _andrena albicans_. its length is rather less than half an inch, and its colour is black, with a thick coating of rich red hair on the upper part of the thorax. this species is plentiful on the continent, and is found as far south as italy. but it is equally capable of enduring great cold, as it has been captured in the arctic regions. sometimes the bee will not trouble itself to make a number of separate burrows, but will drive short supplementary tunnels from the side of the first burrow, so that they all open into one common entrance. the andrenæ are remarkable for the parasites with which they are infested, the most curious of which is that tiny strepsipterous insect called the stylops. one of the andrenæ, called _colletes daviesana_, is remarkable for the character of its burrow. like many of the insects which have already been described, it seems indifferent whether it burrows in sand-banks or into the mortar of walls, provided that in the latter case the mortar is soft and friable. the insect burrows a hole which is very deep in proportion to its size, the little bee being only the third of an inch in length, and the burrows some eight or ten inches in depth. when the mother _colletes_ has finished her tunnel, she lines the end of it with a thin kind of membrane, which has been well compared by mr. f. smith to goldbeater's skin. this lining is intended to enable the bee to store honey in the cell, as, if there were no such protection, the honey would soak in the ground and be lost. having stored up enough food for a single offspring, she shuts it off by a partition of the same membranous substance as the lining. her next care is to make a thimble-like cup at the end, so as to have a double lining where the honey is to come, and then she puts a fresh supply in the new cell. this cell is then closed, and the bee proceeds with her work until she has made from six to eight cells in a single burrow. this insect suffers terribly from the depredations of the earwig, which completely empties the burrow both of food and of inhabitants. the colour of the insect is black, with a little reddish down on the upper part of the thorax, and some white on the legs. the abdomen is shining black, but each segment has a very narrow band of reddish down on its edge. in 1850, mr. f. smith, to whose works such constant reference has been made, undertook the study of a genus of mining-bees belonging to this family. the species which he chiefly watched is _halictus morio_, and his observations are peculiarly valuable, as showing the wonderful manner in which the economy of the race is managed. it is known that in these and many other insects, the pregnant females pass the winter in a state of hibernation, and begin to work in the following spring, and that therefore some arrangement must be needful that a supply of such queens should be kept up. mr. smith found the case to stand thus. early in april, the females appeared abundantly, and could be seen until june, but not a single male was to be found. during june and july, almost all the _halicti_ had disappeared, the reason being, that the queens had made their burrows, laid their eggs, stocked their cells, and then died, the duties of their life having been fulfilled. in the middle of august, the males began to appear, and in september the females of the first brood came out. they immediately set to work at their burrows, and laid their eggs. the ground, thoroughly warmed by the summer sun, soon hastened the young through their changes, and in an incredibly short time the insects of the second brood made their appearance. the females of this brood meet their mates, and then hide themselves until the following spring. as in the case of andrenæ, several tunnels are often made with one common entrance. the insect is very small, scarcely exceeding the sixth of an inch in length. the head and thorax are a dark green, the abdomen is white, and the legs are covered with silvery hairs. it is a plentiful insect, and is found haunting the holes of old walls. passing to another family of british mining-bees, we come to one species that is remarkable not only for its form, but for its economy. this is the _eucera longicornis_, the only known species that inhabits england. in form it is chiefly remarkable from the fact that the antennæ of the male are as long as the entire body. the pupa of this insect is enclosed in a thin membrane, and when the male insect is about to emerge from its pupal shell, it has recourse to a rather curious expedient. at the base of the first joint of the front feet there is a bold notch. when the insect wishes to remove the thin membranous pellicle which envelopes the antennæ, it lays these organs in the notch, draws them through, and thus easily strips off the pellicle. the antennæ are most beautifully formed, the surface of each joint being marked with an elaborate pattern like net-work, so that they form beautiful objects for the microscope. the soil preferred by the _eucera_ is of a clayey nature. when it has completed the burrow, it presses the soil at the extremity with all its might, and smooths it so carefully that the burrow becomes capable of holding honey without needing any lining. the insect is generally found about the end of may or beginning of june, and in some places is found in great numbers. the ground colour of the insect is black, but the body is covered with a coating of short dun hairs. the length rather exceeds half an inch.] _chapter iii._ carpenter-bees; carpenter-wasps; upholsterer-bees. carpenter-bees. among the solitary bees are several british species, which come under that class called carpenter-bees by m. réaumur, from the circumstance of their working in wood, as the mason-bees work in stone. we have frequently witnessed the operations of these ingenious little workers, who are particularly partial to posts, palings, and the wood-work of houses which has become soft by beginning to decay. wood actually decayed, or affected by dry-rot, they seem to reject as unfit for their purposes; but they make no objections to any hole previously drilled, provided it be not too large; and, like the mason-bees, they not unfrequently take possession of an old nest, a few repairs being all that in this case is necessary. when a new nest is to be constructed, the bee proceeds to chisel sufficient space for it out of the wood with her jaws. we say _her_, because the task in this instance, as in most others of solitary bees and wasps, devolves solely upon the female, the male taking no concern in the affair, and probably being altogether ignorant that such a work is going forward. it is, at least, certain that the male is never seen giving his assistance, and he seldom, if ever, approaches the neighbourhood. the female carpenter-bee has a task to perform no less arduous than the mason-bee; for though the wood may be tolerably soft, she can only cut out a very small portion at a time. the successive portions which she gnaws off may be readily ascertained by an observer, as she carries them away from the place. in giving the history of a mason-wasp (_odynerus_), at page 22, we remarked the care with which she carried to a distance little fragments of brick, which she detached in the progress of excavation. we have recently watched a precisely similar procedure in the instance of a carpenter-bee forming a cell in a wooden post. (j. r.) the only difference was, that the bee did not fly so far away with her fragments of wood as the wasp did; but she varied the direction of her flight every time: and we could observe that, after dropping, the chip of wood which she had carried off, she did not return in a direct line to her nest, but made a circuit of some extent before wheeling round to go back. on observing the proceedings of this carpenter-bee next day, we found her coming in with balls of pollen on her thighs; and on tracing her from the nest into the adjacent garden, we saw her visiting every flower which was likely to yield her a supply of pollen for her future progeny. this was not all; we subsequently saw her taking the direction of the clay quarry frequented by the mason-bees, as we have mentioned in page 41, where we recognised her loading herself with a pellet of clay, and carrying it into her cell in the wooden post. we observed her alternating this labour for several days, at one time carrying clay, and at another pollen; till at length she completed her task, and closed the entrance with a barricade of clay, to prevent the intrusion of any insectivorous depredator, who might make prey of her young; or of some prying parasite, who might introduce its own eggs into the nest she had taken so much trouble to construct. some days after it was finished, we cut into the post, and exposed this nest to view. it consisted of six cells of a somewhat square shape, the wood forming the lateral walls; and each was separated from the one adjacent by a partition of clay, of the thickness of a playing card. the wood was not lined with any extraneous substance, but was worked as smooth as if it had been chiseled by a joiner. there were five cells, arranged in a very singular manner--two being almost horizontal, two perpendicular, and one oblique. the depth to which the wood was excavated in this instance was considerably less than what we have observed in other species which dig perpendicular galleries several inches deep in posts and garden-seats; and they are inferior in ingenuity to the carpentry of a bee described by réaumur (_xylocopa violacea_), which has not been ascertained to be a native of britain, though a single indigenous species of the genus has been doubtingly mentioned, and is figured by kirby and spence, in their valuable 'monographia.' if it ever be found here, its large size and beautiful violet-coloured wings will render mistakes impossible. [illustration: cells of carpenter-bees, excavated in an old post. in fig. a the cells contain the young grubs; in fig. b the cells are empty. both figures are shown in section, and about half their natural size.] the violet carpenter-bee usually selects an upright piece of wood, into which she bores obliquely for about an inch; and then, changing the direction, works perpendicularly, and parallel to the sides of the wood, from twelve or fifteen inches, and half an inch in breadth. sometimes the bee is contented with one or two of these excavations; at other times, when the wood is adapted to it, she scoops out three or four--a task which sometimes requires several weeks of incessant labour. [illustration: a represents a part of an espalier prop, tunnelled in several places by the violet carpenter-bee: the stick is split, and shows the nests and passages by which they are approached. b, a portion of the prop, half the natural size. c, a piece of thin stick, pierced by the carpenter-bee, and split, to show the nests. d, perspective view of one of the partitions. e, carpenter-bee (_xylocopa violacea_). f, teeth of the carpenter-bee, greatly magnified; _a_, the upper side; _b_, the lower side.] the tunnel in the wood, however, is only one part of the work; for the little architect has afterwards to divide the whole into cells, somewhat less than an inch in depth. it is necessary, for the proper growth of her progeny, that each should be separated from the other, and be provided with adequate food. she knows, most exactly, the quantity of food which each grub will require during its growth; and she therefore does not hesitate to cut it off from any additional supply. in constructing her cells, she does not employ clay, like the bee which we have mentioned above, but the sawdust, if we may call it so, which she has collected in gnawing out the gallery. it would not, therefore, have suited her design to scatter this about, as our carpenter-bee did. the violet-bee, on the contrary, collects her gnawings into a little store-heap for future use, at a short distance from her nest. she proceeds thus:--at the bottom of her excavation she deposits an egg, and over it fills a space nearly an inch high with the pollen of flowers, made into a paste with honey. she then covers this over with a ceiling composed of cemented sawdust, which also serves for the floor of the next chamber above it. for this purpose she cements round a wall a ring of wood-chips taken from her store-heap; and within this ring forms another, gradually contracting the diameter till she has constructed a circular plate, about the thickness of a crown-piece, and of considerable hardness. this plate of course exhibits concentric circles, somewhat similar to the annual circles in the cross section of a tree. in the same manner she proceeds till she has completed ten or twelve cells; and then she closes the main entrance with a barrier of similar materials. let us compare the progress of this little joiner with a human artisan--one who has been long practised in his trade, and has the most perfect and complicated tools for his assistance. the bee has learnt nothing by practice; she makes her nest but once in her life, but it is then as complete and finished as if she had made a thousand. she has no pattern before her--but the architect of all things has impressed a plan upon her mind, which she can realize without scale or compasses. her two sharp teeth are the only tools with which she is provided for her laborious work; and yet she bores a tunnel, twelve times the length of her own body, with greater ease than the workman who bores into the earth for water, with his apparatus of augurs adapted to every soil. her tunnel is clean and regular; she leaves no chips at the bottom, for she is provident of her materials. further, she has an exquisite piece of joinery to perform when her ruder labour is accomplished. the patient bee works her rings from the circumference to the centre, and she produces a shelf, united with such care with her natural glue, that a number of fragments are as solid as one piece. the violet carpenter-bee, as may be expected, occupies several weeks in these complicated labours; and during that period she is gradually depositing her eggs, each of which is successively to become a grub, a pupa, and a perfect bee. it is obvious, therefore, as she does not lay all her eggs in the same place--as each is separated from the other by a laborious process--that the egg which is first laid will be the earliest hatched; and that the first perfect insect, being older than its fellows in the same tunnel, will strive to make its escape sooner, and so on of the rest. the careful mother provides for this contingency. she makes a lateral opening at the bottom of the cells; for the teeth of the young bees would not be strong enough to pierce the outer wood, though they can remove the cemented rings of sawdust in the interior. réaumur observed these holes, in several cases; and he further noticed another external opening opposite to the middle cell, which he supposed was formed, in the first instance, to shorten the distance for the removal of the fragments of wood in the lower half of the building. * * * * * that bees of similar habits, if not the same species as the violet-bee, are indigenous to this country, is proved by grew, who mentions, in his 'rarities of gresham college,' having found a series of such cells in the middle of the pith of an elder branch, in which they were placed lengthwise, one after another, with a thin boundary between each. as he does not, however, tell us that he was acquainted with the insect which constructed these, it might as probably be allied to the _ceratina albilabris_, of which spinola has given so interesting an account in the 'annales du muséum d'histoire naturelle' (x. 236). this noble and learned naturalist tells us, that one evening he perceived a female ceratina alight on the branch of a bramble, partly withered, and of which the extremity had been broken; and, after resting a moment, suddenly disappear. on detaching the branch, he found that it was perforated, and that the insect was in the very act of excavating a nidus for her eggs. he forthwith gathered a bundle of branches, both of the bramble and the wild-rose, similarly perforated, and took them home to examine them at leisure. upon inspection, he found that the nests were furnished like those of the same tribe, with balls of pollen kneaded with honey, as a provision for the grubs. the female ceratina selects a branch of the bramble or wild-rose which has been accidentally broken, and digs into the pith only, leaving the wood and bark untouched. her mandibles, indeed, are not adapted for gnawing wood; and, accordingly, he found instances in which she could not finish her nest in branches of the wild-rose, where the pith was not of sufficient diameter. the insect usually makes her perforation a foot in depth, and divides this into eight, nine, or even twelve cells, each about five lines long, and separated by partitions formed by the gnawings of the pith, cemented by honey, or some similar glutinous fluid, much in the same manner with the _xylocopa violacea_, which we have already described. [this species is probably _ceratina cærulea_, as the second species, _c. albilabris_, seems to have little claim to be considered as a british insect. it is plentiful in spots where it resides, but is very local. it can best be found by collecting all the specimens of bramble branches that have holes bored into the pith. mr. f. smith says of this tiny bee, "some years ago i observed a small bee most industriously employed in excavating a dead bramble stick. my attention was directed to the circumstance from observing some of the fallen pieces of pith on the ground immediately beneath. occasionally fresh quantities of dust were pushed out. at length, the little creature came out of the stick as if to rest, and after sunning itself for a few minutes, it re-entered, and again commenced its labours. later in the day, after stopping up the entrance, i cut off the branch and found in it a male and female ceratina." the ceratina is only the sixth of an inch in length, and is deep shining blue in colour. there are many other species of british bees which frequent the stems of bramble and other trees. one of them is known as _prosopis signata_. the cells made by the bees of this genus are lined with a membrane, and are stocked with liquid honey. some species will not take the trouble of boring a tunnel for themselves, but will make use of hollow stones, or similar localities, and place in them the silk-covered cocoons. there are species of that versatile genus _osmia_ (_o. leucomelana_), in the habit of burrowing into dead bramble branches. the mother insect bores a hole some six inches in length, throwing the pieces of pith away, and then, depositing at the bottom an egg and a supply of food, she forms a cell by fixing across the burrow a stopper made of masticated leaves. the stopper retains its place firmly, because the bee does not eat away the whole of the pith, but alternately widens and contracts the diameter of the burrow, each contracted portion being the termination of a cell. the perfect insect appears in the early summer of the following year.] carpenter-wasps. [illustration: a, b, represent sections of old wooden posts, with the cells of the carpenter-wasp. in fig. a the young grubs are shown feeding on the insects placed there for their support by the parent wasp. the cells in fig. b contain cocoons. c, carpenter-wasp, natural size. d, cocoon of a carpenter-wasp, composed of sawdust and wings of insects.] as there are mason-wasps similar in economy to mason-bees, so are there solitary carpenter-wasps which dig galleries in timber, and partition them out into several cells by means of the gnawings of the wood which they have detached. this sort of wasp is of the genus _eumenes_. the wood selected is generally such as is soft, or in a state of decay; and the hole which is dug in it is much less neat and regular than that of the carpenter-bees, while the division of the chambers is nothing more than the rubbish produced during the excavation. the provision which is made for the grub consists of flies or gnats piled into the chamber, but without the nice order remarkable in the spiral columns of green caterpillars provided by the mason-wasp (_odynerus murarius_). the most remarkable circumstance is, that in some of the species, when the grub is about to go into the pupa state, it spins a case (a cocoon), into which it interweaves the wings of the flies whose bodies it has previously devoured. in other species, the gnawings of the wood are employed in a similar manner. [some of the solitary wasps are also carpenters, and the genus _crabro_ has several species which are classed under this head. there is, for example, _crabro clavipes_, a little black insect with red and black abdomen, that burrows into dead bramble sticks, boring out the pith, and forming a series of cells in the narrow tube thus made. sometimes this insect bores into decaying wood, but its general home is the bramble-stick. the same habits are common to several other british species of this genus, and the reader will find that old, decaying willow trees are chiefly visited by these pretty little insects. their store of food, which they lay up for their young, mostly consists of dipterous insects, and various species of gnats are used for this purpose. another of the carpenter-wasps (_pemphredon lugubris_) is really a useful insect. it makes its burrows in posts, rails, and similar localities, and provides its future young with a large stock of aphides. it has been seen to settle on a rose-bush, scrape off the branches a number of aphides, form them into a ball, and carry them off between its head and front legs. the colour of this insect is dull black, from which circumstance it derives its name of _lugubris._ the head is large, and squared, and the abdomen is attached to the thorax by a large footstalk. its length is about half an inch. it is a very common insect, and is believed to be the only british representation of its genus. several species do not take the trouble to form a burrow for themselves, but content themselves with building in holes ready made for them. straws are favourite resorts of such insects, and in thatched buildings the straws of the roof are often filled with their cells. one of these insects is a very little species, barely a quarter of an inch in length. its colour is black, with some silver white hair on the face, and the legs are paler than the body. the abdomen has a long footstalk. its scientific name is _psen pallipes_. like the insect which has just been described, it provisions its young with aphides.] upholsterer-bees. in another part of this volume we shall see how certain caterpillars construct abodes for themselves, by cutting off portions of the leaves or bark of plants, and uniting them by means of silk into a uniform and compact texture; but this scarcely appears so wonderful as the prospective labours of some species of bees for the lodgment of their progeny. we allude to the solitary bees, known by the name of the leaf-cutting bees, but which may be denominated more generally _upholsterer-bees_, as there are some of them which use other materials beside leaves. one species of our little upholsterers has been called the poppy-bee (_osmia papaveris_, latr.), from its selecting the scarlet petals of the poppy as tapestry for its cells. kirby and spence express their doubts whether it is indigenous to this country: we are almost certain that we have seen the nests in scotland. (j. r.) at largs, in ayrshire, a beautiful sea-bathing village on the firth of clyde, in july, 1814, we found in a footpath a great number of the cylindrical perforations of the poppy-bee. [in his catalogue of british hymenoptera, mr. f. smith makes the following remarks with regard to this insect. "the poppy-bee, _anthocopa papaveris_, is closely allied to this genus (_osmia_), and may indeed be placed before it as a connecting link with the _osmia_. this interesting insect (_l'abeille tapissiere_), of réaumur, has been supposed to inhabit this country, specimens having been placed in the collection at the british museum. but it was with much regret that i discovered, when engaged upon the catalogue of british bees for the museum, and had occasion to examine each individual specimen with care, that in the first place there was no satisfactory evidence of the locality, and that in the next place, all the males associated with the series were those of _osmia adunca_, of panzear." for these reasons, this species has been excluded from the list of british bees.] réaumur remarked that the cells of this bee which he found at bercy, were situated in a northern exposure, contrary to what he had remarked in the mason-bee, which prefers the south. the cells at largs, however, were on an elevated bank, facing the south, near sir thomas brisbane's observatory. with respect to exposure, indeed, no certain rule seems applicable; for the nests of mason-bees which we found on the wall of greenwich park faced the north-east, and we have often found carpenter-bees make choice of a similar situation. in one instance, we found carpenter-bees working indifferently on the north-east and south-west side of the same post. as we did not perceive any heaps of earth near the holes at largs, we concluded that it must either have been carried off piecemeal when they were dug, or that they were old holes re-occupied (a circumstance common with bees), and that the rubbish had been trodden down by passengers. réaumur, who so minutely describes the subsequent operations of the bee, says nothing respecting its excavations. one of these holes is about three inches deep, gradually widening as it descends, till it assumes the form of a small florence flask. the interior of this is rendered smooth, uniform, and polished, in order to adapt it to the tapestry with which it is intended to be hung, and which is the next step in the process. the material used for tapestry by the insect upholsterer is supplied by the flower-leaves of the scarlet field-poppy, from which she successively cuts off small pieces of an oval shape, seizes them between her legs, and conveys them to the nest. she begins her work at the bottom, which she overlays with three or four leaves in thickness, and the sides have never less than two. when she finds that the piece she has brought is too large to fit the place intended, she cuts off what is superfluous, and carries away the shreds. by cutting the fresh petal of a poppy with a pair of scissors, we may perceive the difficulty of keeping the piece free from wrinkles and shrivelling; but the bee knows how to spread the pieces which she uses as smooth as glass. when she has in this manner hung the little chamber all around with this splendid scarlet tapestry, of which she is not sparing, but extends it even beyond the entrance, she then fills it with the pollen of flowers mixed with honey, to the height of about half an inch. in this magazine of provisions for her future progeny she lays an egg, and over it folds down the tapestry of poppy-petals from above. the upper part is then filled in with earth; but latreille says he has observed more than one cell constructed in a single excavation. this may account for réaumur's describing them as sometimes seven inches deep; a circumstance which latreille, however, thinks very surprising. it will, perhaps, be impossible ever to ascertain, beyond a doubt, whether the tapestry-bee is led to select the brilliant petals of the poppy from their colour, or from any other quality they may possess, of softness or of warmth, for instance. réaumur thinks that the largeness, united with the flexibility of the poppy-leaves, determines her choice. yet it is not improbable that her eye may be gratified by the appearance of her nest; that she may possess a feeling of the beautiful in colour, and may look with complacency upon the delicate hangings of the apartment which she destines for her offspring. why should not an insect be supposed to have a glimmering of the value of ornament? how can we pronounce, from our limited notion of the mode in which the inferior animals think and act, that their gratifications are wholly bounded by the positive utility of the objects which surround them? why does a dog howl at the sound of a bugle, but because it offends his organ of hearing?--and why, therefore, may not a bee feel gladness in the brilliant hues of her scarlet drapery, because they are grateful to her organs of sight? all these little creatures work, probably, with more neatness and finish than is absolutely essential for comfort; and this circumstance alone would imply that they have something of taste to exhibit, which produces to them a pleasurable emotion. the tapestry-bee is, however, content with ornamenting the interior only of the nest which she forms for her progeny. she does not misplace her embellishments with the error of some human artists. she desires security as well as elegance; and, therefore, she leaves no external traces of her operations. hers is not a mansion rich with columns and friezes without, but cold and unfurnished within, like the desolate palaces of venice. she covers her tapestry quite round with the common earth; and leaves her eggs enclosed in their poppy-case with a certainty that the outward show of her labours will attract no plunderer. the poppy-bee may be known by its being rather more than a third of an inch long, of a black colour, studded on the head and back with reddish-grey hairs; the belly being grey and silky, and the rings margined with grey above, the second and third having an impressed transversal line. * * * * * a species of solitary bee (_anthidium manicatum_, fabricius), by no means uncommon with us, forms a nest of a peculiarly interesting structure. kirby and spence say, that it does not excavate holes, but makes choice of the cavities of old trees, key-holes, and similar localities; yet it is highly probable, we think, that it may sometimes scoop out a suitable cavity when it cannot find one; for its mandibles seem equally capable of this, with those of any of the carpenter or mason-bees. be this as it may, the bee in question having selected a place suitably sheltered from the weather, and from the intrusion of depredators, proceeds to form her nest, the exterior walls of which she forms of the wool of pubescent plants, such as rose-campion (_lychnis coronaria_), the quince (_pyrus cydonia_), cats-ears (_stachys lunata_), &c. "it is very pleasant," says mr. white, of selborne, "to see with what address this insect strips off the down, running from the top to the bottom of the branch, and shaving it bare with all the dexterity of a hoop-shaver. when it has got a vast bundle, almost as large as itself, it flies away, holding it secure between its chin and its fore-legs."[q] the material is rolled up like a ribbon; and we possess a specimen in which one of these rolls still adheres to a rose-campion stem, the bee having been scared away before obtaining her load. the manner in which the cells of the nest are made seems not to be very clearly understood. m. latreille says, that, after constructing her nest of the down of quince-leaves, she deposits her eggs, together with a store of paste, formed of the pollen of flowers, for nourishing the grubs. kirby and spence, on the other hand, tell us, that "the parent bee, _after_ having constructed her cells, laid an egg in each, and filled them with a store of suitable food, plasters them with a covering of vermiform masses, apparently composed of honey and pollen; and having done this, aware, long before count rumford's experiments, what materials conduct heat most slowly," she collects the down from woolly plants, and "sticks it upon the plaster that covers her cells, and thus closely envelops them with a warm coating of down, impervious to every change of temperature." "from later observations," however, they are "inclined to think that these cells may possibly, as in the case of the humble-bee, be in fact formed by the larva previously to becoming a pupa, after having eaten the provision of pollen and honey with which the parent bee had surrounded it. the vermicular shape, however, of the masses with which the cases are surrounded, does not seem easily reconcilable with this supposition, unless they are considered as the excrement of the larva."[r] whether or not this second explanation is the true one, we have not the means of ascertaining; but we are almost certain the first is incorrect, as it is contrary to the regular procedure of insects to begin with the interior part of any structure, and work outwards. we should imagine, then, that the down is first spread out into the form required, and afterwards plastered on the inside to keep it in form, when probably the grub spins the vermicular cells previous to its metamorphosis. it might prove interesting to investigate this more minutely; and as the bee is by no means scarce in the neighbourhood of london, it might not be difficult for a careful observer to witness all the details of this singular architecture. yet we have repeatedly endeavoured, but without success, to watch the bees, when loaded with down, to their nests. the bee may be readily known from its congeners, by its being about the size of the hive-bee, but more broad and flattened, blackish-brown above, with a row of six yellow or white spots along each side of the rings, very like the rose-leaf cutter, and having the belly covered with yellowish-brown hair, and the legs fringed with long hairs of a rather lighter colour. * * * * * [this bee does not bore a tunnel for herself, but occupies that of some other insect. the nests of this insect are generally to be obtained from old willows, because these trees are so largely bored by the goat-moth caterpillar, and afford ample space for the larva. the woolly substance obtained from the plant is pressed against the sides of the burrow, so as to form a lining. she then makes a series of cells of a similar material, and the young larva, when it is about to change into the pupa state, envelops itself in a silken covering of a brown colour. it is a curious fact, that the male of this insect is considerably larger than the female, thus reversing the usual order of things among insects. only one species of this bee is known in england.] a common bee belonging to the family of upholsterers is called the rose-leaf cutter (_megachile centuncularis_, latr.). the singularly ingenious habits of this bee have long attracted the attention of naturalists; but the most interesting description is given by réaumur. so extraordinary does the construction of their nests appear, that a french gardener having dug up some, and believing them to be the work of a magician, who had placed them in his garden with evil intent, sent them to paris to his master, for advice as to what should be done by way of exorcism. on applying to the abbé nollet, the owner of the garden was soon persuaded that the nests in question were the work of insects; and m. réaumur, to whom they were subsequently sent, found them to be the nests of one of the upholsterer-bees, and probably of the rose-leaf cutter, though the nests in question were made of the leaves of the mountain ash (_pyrus aucuparia_). the rose-leaf cutter makes a cylindrical hole in a beaten pathway, for the sake of more consolidated earth (or in the cavities of walls or decayed wood), from six to ten inches deep, and does not throw the earth dug out from it into a heap, like the andrenæ.[s] in this she constructs several cells about an inch in length, shaped like a thimble, and made of cuttings of leaves (not petals), neatly folded together, the bottom of one thimble-shaped cell being inserted into the mouth of the one below it, and so on in succession. [illustration: rose-leaf cutter bees, and nest lined with rose-leaves.] it is interesting to observe the manner in which this bee procures the materials for forming the tapestry of her cells. the leaf of the rose-tree seems to be that which she prefers, though she sometimes takes other sorts of leaves, particularly those with serrated margins, such as the birch, the perennial mercury (_mercurialis perennis_), mountain-ash, &c. she places herself upon the outer edge of the leaf which she has selected, so that its margin may pass between her legs. turning her head towards the point, she commences near the footstalk, and with her mandibles cuts out a circular piece with as much expedition as we could do with a pair of scissors, and with more accuracy and neatness than could easily be done by us. as she proceeds, she keeps the cut portion between her legs, so as not to impede her progress; and using her body for a _trammel_, as a carpenter would say, she cuts in a regular curved line. as she supports herself during the operation upon the portion of the leaf which she is detaching, it must be obvious, when it is nearly cut off, that the weight of her body might tear it away, so as to injure the accuracy of its curvilineal shape. to prevent any accident of this kind, as soon as she suspects that her weight might tear it, she poises herself on her wings, till she has completed the incision. it has been said, by naturalists, that this manoeuvre of poising herself on the wing, is to prevent her falling to the ground, when the piece gives way; but as no winged insect requires to take any such precaution, our explanation is probably the true one. with the piece which she has thus cut out, held in a bent position perpendicularly to her body, she flies off to her nest, and fits it into the interior with the utmost neatness and ingenuity; and, without employing any paste or glue, she trusts, as réaumur ascertained, to the spring the leaf takes in drying, to retain it in its position. it requires from nine to ten pieces of leaf to form one cell, as they are not always of precisely the same thickness. the interior surface of each cell consists of three pieces of leaf, of equal size, narrow at one end, but gradually widening at the other, where the width equals half the length. one side of each of the pieces is the serrated margin of the leaf from which it was cut, and this margin is always placed outermost, and the cut margin innermost. like most insects, she begins with the exterior, commencing with a layer of tapestry, which is composed of three or four oval pieces, larger in dimensions than the rest, adding a second and a third layer proportionately smaller. in forming these, she is careful not to place a joining opposite to a joining, but with all the skill of a consummate artificer, lays the middle of each piece of leaf over the margins of the others, so as by this means both to cover and strengthen the junctions. by repeating this process, she sometimes forms a fourth or a fifth layer of leaves, taking care to bend the leaves at the narrow extremity or closed end of the cell, so as to bring them into a convex shape. when she has in this manner completed a cell, her next business is to replenish it with a store of honey and pollen, which, being chiefly collected from thistles, forms a beautiful rose-coloured conserve. in this she deposits a single egg, and then covers in the opening with three pieces of leaf, so exactly circular, that a pair of compasses could not define their margin with more accuracy. in this manner the industrious and ingenious upholsterer proceeds till the whole gallery is filled, the convex extremity of the one fitting into the open end of the next, and serving both as a basis and as the means of strengthening it. if, by any accident, the labour of these insects is interrupted or the edifice deranged, they exhibit astonishing perseverance in setting it again to rights. insects, indeed, are not easily forced to abandon any work which they may have begun. the monkish legends tell us that st. francis xavier, walking one day in a garden, and seeing an insect, of the _mantis_ genus, moving along in its solemn way, holding up its two fore legs, as in the act of devotion, desired it to sing the praises of god. the legend adds that the saint immediately heard the insect carol a fine canticle with a loud emphasis. we want no miraculous voice to record the wonders of the almighty hand, when we regard the insect world. the little rose-leaf cutter, pursuing her work with the nicest mathematical art--using no artificial instruments to form her ovals and her circles--knowing that the elastic property of the leaves will retain them in their position--making her nest of equal strength throughout, by the most rational adjustment of each distinct part--demands from us something more than mere wonder; for such an exercise of instinctive ingenuity at once directs our admiration to the great contriver, who has so admirably proportioned her knowledge to her necessities. _chapter iv._ carder-bees; humble-bees; social-wasps. the bees and wasps, whose ingenious architecture we have already examined, are solitary in their labours. those we are about to describe live in society. the perfection of the social state among this class of insects is certainly that of the hive-bees. they are the inhabitants of a large city, where the arts are carried to a higher excellence than in small districts enjoying little communication of intelligence. but the bees of the villages, if we may follow up the parallel, are not without their interest. such are those which are called carder-bees and humble-bees. carder-bees. the nests of the bees which réaumur denominates carders (_bombus muscorum_, latr.) are by no means uncommon, and are well worth the study of the naturalist. during the hay harvest, they are frequently met with by mowers in the open fields and meadows; but they may sometimes be discovered in hedge-banks, the borders of copses, or among moss-grown stones. the description of the mode of building adopted by this bee has been copied by most of our writers on insects from réaumur; though he is not a little severe on those who write without having ever had a single nest in their possession. we have been able to avoid such a reproach; for we have now before us a very complete nest of carder-bees, which differs from those described by réaumur, in being made not of moss, but withered grass. with this exception, we find that his account agrees accurately with our own observations. (j. r.) [illustration: fig. a represents two carder-bees heckling moss for their nests; b, exterior view of the nest of the carder-bee.] the carder-bees select for their nest a shallow excavation about half a foot in diameter; but when they cannot find one to suit their purpose, they undertake the herculean task of digging one themselves. they cover this hollow with a dome of moss--sometimes, as we have ascertained, of withered grass. they make use, indeed, of whatever materials may be within their reach; for they do not attempt to bring anything from a distance, not even when they are deprived of the greater portion by an experimental naturalist. their only method of transporting materials to the building is by pushing them along the ground--the bee, for that purpose, working backwards, with its head turned from the nest. if there is only one bee engaged in this labour, as usually happens in the early spring, when a nest is founded by a solitary female who has outlived the winter, she transports her little bundles of moss or grass by successive backward pushes, till she gets them home. in the latter part of the season, when the hive is populous and can afford more hands, there is an ingenious division of this labour. a file of bees, to the number sometimes of half a dozen, is established, from the nest to the moss or grass which they intend to use, the heads of all the file of bees being turned from the nest and towards the material. the last bee of the file lays hold of some of the moss with her mandibles, disentangles it from the rest, and having _carded_ it with her fore legs into a sort of felt or small bundle, she pushes it under her body to the next bee, who passes it in the same manner to the next, and so on till it is brought to the border of the nest,--in the same way as we sometimes see sugar-loaves conveyed from a cart to a warehouse, by a file of porters throwing them from one to another. the elevation of the dome, which is all built from the interior, is from four to six inches above the level of the field. beside the moss or grass, they frequently employ coarse wax to form the ceiling of the vault, for the purpose of keeping out rain, and preventing high winds from destroying it. before this finishing is given to the nest, we have remarked, that on a fine sunshiny day the upper portion of the dome was opened to the extent of more than an inch, in order, we suppose, to forward the hatching of the eggs in the interior; but on the approach of night this was carefully covered in again. it was remarkable that the opening which we have just mentioned was never used by the bees for either their entrance or their exit from the nest, though they were all at work there, and, of course, would have found it the readiest and easiest passage; but they invariably made their exit and their entrance through the covert-way or gallery which opens at the bottom of the nest, and, in some nests, is about a foot long and half an inch wide. this is, no doubt, intended for concealment from field-mice, polecats, wasps, and other depredators. on removing a portion of the dome and bringing the interior of the structure into view, we find little of the architectural regularity so conspicuous in the combs of a common bee-hive: instead of this symmetry, there are only a few egg-shaped, dark-coloured cells, placed somewhat irregularly, but approaching more to the horizontal than to the vertical position, and connected together with small amorphous[t] columns of brown wax. sometimes there are two or three of these oval cells placed one above another, without anything to unite them. these cells are not, however, the workmanship of the old bees, but of their young grubs, who spin them when they are about to change into nymphs. but, from these cases, when they are spun, the enclosed insects have no means of escaping, and they depend for their liberation on the old bees gnawing off the covering, as is done also by ants in the same circumstances. the instinct with which they know the precise time when it is proper to do this is truly wonderful. it is no less so, that these cocoons are by no means useless when thus untenanted, for they subsequently serve for honey-pots, and are indeed the only store-cells in the nest. for this purpose the edge of the cell is repaired and strengthened with a ring of wax. [illustration: breeding-cells.] the true breeding-cells are contained in several amorphous masses of brown-coloured wax, varying in dimensions, but of a somewhat flat and globular shape. on opening any of these, a number of eggs or grubs are found, on whose account the mother bee has collected the masses of wax, which also contain a supply of pollen moistened with honey, for their subsistence. the number of eggs or grubs found in one spheroid of wax varies from three to thirty, and the bees in a whole nest seldom exceed sixty. there are three sizes of bees, of which the females are the largest; but neither these nor the males are, as in the case of the hive-bee, exempt from labour, the females, indeed, always found the nests, since they alone survive the winter, all the rest perishing with cold. in each nest, also, are several females, that live in harmony together. [illustration: interior views of carder-bee's nest.] the carder-bees may be easily distinguished from their congeners (of the same genus), by being not unlike the colour of the withered moss with which they build their nests, having the fore part of their back a dull orange, and hinder part ringed with different shades of greyish yellow. they are not so large as the common humble-bee (_bombus terrestris_, latr.), but rather shorter and thicker in the body than the common hive-bee (_apis mellifica_). lapidary-bees. a bee still more common, perhaps, than the carder is the orange-tailed bee, or lapidary (_bombus lapidaria_), readily known by its general black colour and reddish orange tail. it builds its nest sometimes in stony ground, but prefers a heap of stones such as are gathered off grass fields or are piled up near quarries. unlike the carder, the lapidary carries to its nest bits of moss, which are very neatly arranged into a regular oval. these insects associate in their labours; and they make honey with great industry. the individuals of a nest are more numerous than the carders, and likewise more pertinaciously vindictive. about two years ago we discovered a nest of these bees at compton-bassett, in wiltshire, in the centre of a heap of limestone rubbish; but owing to the brisk defensive warfare of their legionaries, we could not obtain a view of the interior. it was not even safe to approach within many yards of the place; and we do not exaggerate when we say that several of them pursued us most pertinaciously about a quarter of a mile. (j. r.) humble-bees. the common humble-bee (_bombus terrestris_) is precisely similar in its economy to the two preceding species, with this difference, that it forms its nest underground like the common wasp, in an excavated chamber, to which a winding passage leads, of from one to two feet, and of a diameter sufficient to allow of two bees passing. the cells have no covering beside the vault of the excavation and patches of coarse wax similar to that of the carder-bee. [the accompanying illustration represents a group of cells made by this species. as may be seen by reference to the engraving, they are not placed with any regularity, but seem to be tossed about at random. [illustration] some of the cells contain larvæ, in others, those closely sealed, lie the pupæ in different stages of development, and some of the cells are filled with a very fragrant and sweet honey, which, however, is injurious to many persons, giving them severe and persistent headaches, even though taken in small quantities.] social-wasps. the nest of the common wasp (_vespa vulgaris_) attracts more or less the attention of everybody; but its interior architecture is not so well known as it deserves to be, for its singular ingenuity, in which it rivals even that of the hive-bee (_apis mellifica_). in their general economy the social or republican wasps closely resemble the humble-bee (_bombus_), every colony being founded by a single female who has survived the winter, to the rigours of which all her summer associates of males and working wasps uniformly fall victims. nay, out of three hundred females which may be found in one vespiary, or wasp's nest, towards the close of autumn, scarcely ten or a dozen survive till the ensuing spring, at which season they awake from their hibernal lethargy, and begin with ardour the labours of colonization. it may be interesting to follow one of these mother wasps through her several operations, in which she merits more the praise of industry than the queen of a bee-hive, who does nothing, and never moves without a numerous train of obedient retainers, always ready to execute her commands and to do her homage. the mother wasp, on the contrary, is at first alone, and is obliged to perform every species of drudgery herself. her first care, after being roused to activity by the returning warmth of the season, is to discover a place suitable for her intended colony; and, accordingly, in the spring, wasps may be seen prying into every hole of a hedge-bank, particularly where field-mice have burrowed. some authors report that she is partial to the forsaken galleries of the mole; but this does not accord with our observations, as we have never met with a single vespiary in any situation likely to have been frequented by moles. but though we cannot assert the fact, we think it highly probable that the deserted nest of the field-mouse, which is not uncommon in hedge-banks, may be sometimes appropriated by a mother wasp as an excavation convenient for her purpose. yet, if she does make choice of the burrow of a field-mouse, it requires to be afterwards considerably enlarged in the interior chamber, and the entrance gallery very much narrowed. the desire of the wasp to save herself the labour of excavation, by forming her nest where other animals have burrowed, is not without a parallel in the actions of quadrupeds, and even of birds. in the splendid continuation of wilson's american ornithology, by charles l. bonaparte (whose scientific pursuits have thrown around that name a beneficent lustre, pleasingly contrasted with his uncle's glory), there is an interesting example of this instinctive adoption of the labours of others. "in the trans-mississippian territories of the united states, the burrowing-owl resides exclusively in the villages of the marmot, or prairie-dog, whose excavations are so commodious as to render it unnecessary that the owl should dig for himself, as he is said to do where no burrowing animals exist.[u] the villages of the prairie-dog are very numerous and variable in their extent,--sometimes covering only a few acres, and at others spreading over the surface of the country for miles together. they are composed of slightly-elevated mounds, having the form of a truncated cone, about two feet in width at the base, and seldom rising as high as eighteen inches from the surface of the soil. the entrance is placed either at the top or on the side, and the whole mound is beaten down externally, especially at the summit, resembling a much-used footpath. from the entrance, the passage into the mound descends vertically for one or two feet, and is thence continued obliquely downwards until it terminates in an apartment, within which the industrious prairie-dog constructs, on the approach of cold weather, a comfortable cell for his winter's sleep. the cell, which is composed of fine dry grass, is globular in form, with an opening at top, capable of admitting the finger; and the whole is so firmly compacted, that it might without injury be rolled over the floor."[v] in case of need the wasp is abundantly furnished by nature with instruments for excavating a burrow out of the solid ground, as she no doubt most commonly does--digging the earth with her strong mandibles, and carrying it off or pushing it out as she proceeds. the entrance gallery is about an inch or less in diameter, and usually runs in a winding or zig-zag direction, from one to two feet in depth. in the chamber to which this gallery leads, and which, when completed, is from one to two feet in diameter, the mother wasp lays the foundations of her city, beginning with the walls. the building materials employed by wasps were long a matter of conjecture to scientific inquirers; for the bluish-grey papery substance of the whole structure has no resemblance to any sort of wax employed by bees for a similar purpose. now that the discovery has been made, we can with difficulty bring ourselves to believe that a naturalist so acute and indefatigable as m. réaumur, should have, for twenty years, as he tells us, endeavoured, without success, to find out the secret. at length, however, his perseverance was rewarded. he remarked a female wasp alight on the sash of his window, and begin to gnaw the wood with her mandibles; and it struck him at once that she was procuring materials for building. he saw her detach from the wood a bundle of fibres about a tenth of an inch in length, and finer than a hair; and as she did not swallow these, but gathered them into a mass with her feet, he could not doubt that his first idea was correct. in a short time she shifted to another part of the window-frame, carrying with her the fibres she had collected, and to which she continued to add, when he caught her, in order to examine the nature of her bundle; and he found that it was not yet moistened nor rolled into a ball, as is always done before employing it in building. in every other respect it had precisely the same colour and fibrous texture as the walls of a vespiary. it struck him as remarkable that it bore no resemblance to wood gnawed by other insects, such as the goat-moth caterpillar, which is granular like sawdust. this would not have suited the design of the wasp, who was well aware that fibres of some length form a stronger texture. he even discovered, that before detaching the fibres, she bruised them (_les charpissoit_) into a sort of lint (_charpie_) with her mandibles. all this the careful naturalist imitated by bruising and paring the same wood of the window-sash with his penknife, till he succeeded in making a little bundle of fibres scarcely to be distinguished from that collected by the wasp. we have ourselves frequently seen wasps employed in procuring their materials in this manner, and have always observed that they shift from one part to another more than once in preparing a single load--a circumstance which we ascribe entirely to the restless temper peculiar to the whole order of hymenopterous insects. réaumur found that the wood which they preferred was such as had been long exposed to the weather, and is old and dry. white of selborne, and kirby and spence, on the contrary, maintain that wasps obtain their paper from sound timber, hornets only from that which is decayed.[w] our own observations, however, confirm the statement of réaumur with respect to wasps, as, in every instance which has fallen under our notice, the wood selected was very much weathered; and in one case, an old oak post in a garden at lee, in kent, half destroyed by dry-rot, was seemingly the resort of all the wasps in the vicinity. in another case, the deal bond in a brick wall, which had been built thirty years, is at this moment (june, 1829) literally striped with the gnawings of wasps, which we have watched at the work for hours together. (j. r.) [different species of wasps use different materials for their nest. _vespa vulgaris_ always uses decayed wood, while _v. germanica_ and other species use sound wood. owing to the colour, the distinction between the nests of these insects is evident at a glance. the bundles of ligneous fibres thus detached are moistened before being used, with a glutinous liquid, which causes them to adhere together, and are then kneaded into a sort of paste, or _papier maché_. the method employed by the wasp in making its nest has been so admirably described by mr. s. stone, that we cannot do better than copy his description, which appeared in "beeton's annual" of 1865. "having found a place suitable--the deserted burrows of the field-mice being perhaps more generally selected than any other by the underground species, the chamber formed by that animal for its nest being exactly the kind of place required by the insect--it proceeds to attach its web to the centre of the roof of the chamber. this consists, in the first instance, of a pedicle, or footstalk, about half an inch in length, at the extremity of which a single cell is formed, which is presently surrounded by others. "simultaneously with the formation of these cells, an umbrella-shaped covering is prepared above them. more cells are added, an egg being deposited in each of them as soon as formed, while constant additions are made to the covering until it has assumed a globular form, with only an aperture sufficiently large for the insect to pass in and out. before the completion of the first covering, a second, just large enough to enclose it, is begun, and while this is in progress a third is commenced, and then a fourth, and so on. when young wasps have been produced in sufficient numbers to carry on the work without the assistance of the parent, an event which usually takes place in about six weeks from the commencement of the nest, she does not again leave home, but occupies herself solely in the task of depositing eggs as fast as cells can be formed by the workers for their reception. "there are two methods by which the nests are enlarged by the workers after the queen has given up the task of building; some species choosing one, some adopting the other. one consists in forming a series of regular sheets or layers, which are made to overlap each other like the slates or tiles on the roof of a building, in the same way as is pursued by the queen of every species so long as she continues to be the architect. when a few of these sheets have been completed, that is, when they have been made to assume a spherical form, with only a small aperture for ingress and egress, each internal sheet is cut away, nearly but not quite, as fast as additional ones are formed externally, the shell or covering therefore slightly increasing in thickness as the nest increases in size. thus architects among the human race are careful to proportion the thickness, and consequently the strength of the walls to the magnitude of the building designed to be erected. "the other method consists in forming hollow pieces, or raising, as it were, blisters all over the plain surface which the queen has left; and upon these other blisters, and so on continually; cutting away, as in the former case, the under skin on the formation of the outer one. the latter method is adopted by the workers of _v. crabro_, _v. vulgaris_, and _v. germanica_; the former by _v. norvegica_, _v. sylvestris_, _v. rufa_, and probably by _v. arborea_. cutting away the inner portions of the coverings is a necessary process in order to make room for the increased size of the comb or combs. the material cut away is not thrown by as useless, but is worked up afresh; indeed this is effected in, and by, the very act of removing it; it is then either used in enlarging the combs or it is brought out and employed in making additions to the outside. "as the nest increases in size, it is obvious that the cavity in which it is placed must be proportionably enlarged; accordingly, each wasp, as it emerges from the aperture, may be observed to bring out with it a small lump of earth which it has scraped from the walls of the chamber, care being taken to keep a clear space of about a quarter of an inch between the covering of the nest, and the walls of the chamber. about the same space also occurs between the combs, which are placed horizontally, with the mouth of the cells downwards; supporting columns or pillars being constructed at regular intervals so as to keep them at a proper distance apart, thus allowing the insects room to pass between them for the purpose of feeding the grubs. supporting columns or pillars are also placed between the roof of the chamber and the crown of the nest, connecting the one with the other; and these supports are constantly strengthened as the increasing weight of the nest renders such a precaution necessary. "the material of which the wasps' nests are composed is a sort of paper manufactured chiefly from wood by the insects themselves; one species using sound wood for the purpose, another that which has become decayed. this they scrape by means of their jaws from posts, rails, gates, hurdles, &c., in which act it becomes mixed with some peculiar fluid with which they are provided; it then possesses nearly the same properties as the pulp from which paper is made, but is of firmer consistence. this is gathered in a small lump under the chest, to which it adheres, and in that way is carried to the nest. "the operators having, after the exhibition of a considerable amount of fickleness in the choice, fixed upon a suitable place for commencing, or recommencing operations--for these remarks have reference to a nest already somewhat advanced in the building--place themselves along the edge of a yet unfinished piece, then walking slowly backward, spread the material as they go, along this edge, where it forms a thick streak; they then go forward to the point at which they began to spread the composition, again marching slowly backward, press this streak between their jaws, which acts as a pair of pincers, thus thinning it out throughout its whole length. they then go forward a second time, pressing it still thinner, and then a third, and so on, until they have rendered it sufficiently thin. before this is accomplished, the operators have generally to go five or six times over their work. they do not return to the same spot with their next burden, but seek a fresh one, and thus allow the work they recently executed to become dry and firm, previous to making further additions to it. possibly the material first 'used up' was from wood of a dark colour; the next may be from light-coloured wood, and the next from that of an intermediate colour; and this it is which gives so much beauty to the coverings of the nests of these insects. "_vespa crabro_ and _v. vulgaris_ are the only species which use decayed wood or touchwood in the fabrication of their nests; the other species employ sound wood, varied occasionally by sound vegetable fibre obtained from plants of different kinds. "from the upper combs in a nest, workers are produced; from the lower ones, queens or females; and from the intermediate ones, males. workers become developed early in the season, males not till an advanced period; and young females or queens not until towards the close of the season. "the nests of _v. crabro_, _v. vulgaris_, and _v. germanica_, when of full size, measure not unfrequently twelve inches in diameter, the communities working on, in a favourable season, until the month of november; while the labours of the other species close, and the communities break up towards the end of august; their nests scarcely attaining to half the size of those above mentioned." the accompanying illustration exhibits the nest of the common wasp in an early stage. the first cover has been completed, and a second is in course of progress. we have now before us a beautiful series of wasps' nests, in their various stages, prepared by mr. stone, in order to show the progressive enlargement of the edifice. [illustration: nest of wasp in an early stage.] first, there is the single cell attached to a small part that had penetrated the roof of the burrow. next comes a more advanced stage, in which three cells are made, and the roof is just begun, being not quite half an inch in diameter. then come five cells, and a tolerably large roof; and then twelve cells, with a complete roof. the next stage is that which is represented in the illustration, where the group of cells is seen suspended from its slender footstalk, and a second covering is in progress. by degrees the nest enlarges until the second layer or tier of cells is begun, while the first tier is occupied in the centre by the pupæ, sheltered by their little silk doors, and on the circumference by the larvæ, whose cells are still open in order to allow themselves to be fed by the nurse-wasps. [illustration: section of the same nest, showing the first tier of cells.] in these nests, the difference between the homes of _vespa vulgaris_ and those of _v. germanica_ is very strongly marked, the former being yellowish brown, and the latter grey. one nest of _v. germanica_, is remarkable for being thickly studded with the long, white eggs of some insect, probably a parasite, which has gained admittance to the burrow, in spite of the care of its guardians. it may be here mentioned, that _v. germanica_ is by far the most common species of wasp in england. the illustration at p. 90 represents a completed nest of _v. germanica_. the rough, thick covering is seen outside, and within are the tiers of cells, each layer being supported by pillars from the layer immediately above. these pillars are always formed at the angle where these cells touch each other, so as to obtain as strong a foundation as possible. only a very small space is left between the combs, just enough room, in fact, for the nurse-wasps to pass as they feed the young. the reader will remember that the young wasps all hang with their heads downwards, being held in their places by a sort of clasper at the end of the tail.] when the foundress-wasp has completed a certain number of cells, and deposited eggs in them, she soon intermits her building operations, in order to procure food for the young grubs, which now require all her care. in a few weeks these become perfect wasps, and lend their assistance in the extension of the edifice; enlarging the original coping of the foundress by side walls, and forming another platform of cells, suspended to the first by columns, as that had been suspended to the ceiling. [illustration: section of the social-wasp's nest. _a a_, the external wall; _b_, _c c_, five small terraces of cells for the neuter wasps, _d d_, _e e_, three rows of larger cells for the males and females.] in this manner several platforms of combs are constructed, the outer walls being extended at the same time; and, by the end of the summer, there is generally from twelve to fifteen platforms of cells. each contains about 1060 cells--forty-nine being contained in an inch and a half square, and, of course, making the enormous number of about 16,000 cells in one colony. réaumur, upon these data, calculates that one vespiary may produce every year more than 30,000 wasps, reckoning only 10,000 cells, and each serving successively for the cradle of three generations. but, although the whole structure is built at the expense of so much labour and ingenuity, it has scarcely been finished before the winter sets in, when it becomes nearly useless, and serves only for the abode of a few benumbed females, who abandon it on the approach of spring, and never return; for wasps do not, like mason-bees, ever make use of the same nest for more than one season. [illustration: a, represents one of the rods from which the terraces are suspended. b, a portion of the external crust.] both réaumur and the younger huber studied the proceedings of the common wasp in the manner which has been so successful in observing bees--by means of glazed hives, and other contrivances. in this, these naturalists were greatly aided by the extreme affection of wasps for their young; for though their nest is carried off, or even cut in various directions, and exposed to the light, they never desert it, nor relax their attention to their progeny. when a wasp's nest is removed from its natural situation, and covered with a glass hive, the first operation of the inhabitants is to repair the injuries it has suffered. they carry off with surprising activity all the earth or other matters which have fallen by accident into the nest; and when they have got it thoroughly cleared of everything extraneous, they begin to secure it from further derangement, by fixing it to the glass with papyraceous columns, similar to those which we have already described. the breaches which the nest may have suffered are then repaired, and the thickness of the walls is augmented, with the design, perhaps, of more effectually excluding the light. * * * * * the nest of the hornet is nearly the same in structure with that of the wasp; but the materials are considerably coarser, and the columns to which the platforms of cells are suspended are larger and stronger, the middle one being twice as thick as any of the others. the hornet, also, does not build underground, but in the cavities of trees, or in the thatch or under the eaves of barns. réaumur once found upon a wall a hornet's nest which had not been long begun, and had it transferred to the outside of his study-window; but in consequence, as he imagined, of the absence of the foundress-hornet at the time it was removed, he could not get the other five hornets, of which the colony consisted, either to add to the building or repair the damages which it had sustained. [illustration: hornet's nest in its first stage.] m. réaumur differs from our english naturalists, white, and kirby and spence, with respect to the materials employed by the hornet for building. the latter say that it employs decayed wood; the former, that it uses the bark of the ash-tree, but takes less pains to split it into fine fibres than wasps do; not, however, because it is destitute of skill; for in constructing the suspensory columns of the platforms, a paste is prepared little inferior to that made by wasps. we cannot, from our own observations, decide which of the above statements is correct, as we have only once seen a hornet procuring materials, at compton-bassett, in wiltshire; and in that case it gnawed the inner bark of an elm which had been felled for several months, and was, consequently, dry and tough. such materials as this would account for the common yellowish-brown colour of a hornet's nest. (j. r.) [illustration] [the accompanying figure represents a completed hornet's nest as it appears when suspended from a beam. hornets often choose for their home the space between the roof and the ceiling of summer-houses, and the nests that are made in such localities are mostly large and handsome. the reader should notice the blisters by means of which the insect enlarges its habitation.] when hornets make choice of a tree for their domicile, they select one which is in a state of decay, and already partly hollowed; but they possess the means, in their sharp and strong mandibles, of extending the excavation to suit their purposes; and réaumur frequently witnessed their operations in mining into a decayed tree, and carrying off what they had gnawed. he observed, also, that in such cases they did not make use of the large hole of the tree for an entrance, but went to the trouble of digging a gallery, sufficient for the passage of the largest hornet in the nest, through the living and undecayed portion of the tree. as this is perforated in a winding direction, it is no doubt intended for the purpose of protecting the nest from the intrusion of depredators, who could more easily effect an entrance if there were not such a tortuous way to pass through. [illustration: hornet's nest in a hollow tree.] [here is an illustration of a hornet's nest as it appears in the hollow of a tree. industrious as is this insect, it never takes needless trouble, and alters its nest according to circumstances. as has already been seen, the combs are defended by a complete cover when the nest is placed in an open situation. but when it is built in the hollow of a tree there is no cover at all, the insect evidently knowing that the wooden wall with which the cells are surrounded, affords a sufficient protection. in cases where a cover is made, the hornets do not form only a single entrance, as is the case with the wasp, but have a large number of small entrances in different parts of the wall. some of these entrances can be seen in the illustration on page 93. hornets are in one sense more industrious than wasps. when night falls, the wasps betake themselves to their home, and sleep throughout the night. but, if the moon be up, the hornet is sure to work throughout the entire night, and will often do so, even when no moon is visible.] * * * * * one of the most remarkable of our native social wasps is the tree-wasp (_vespa britannica_), which is not uncommon in the northern, but is seldom to be met with in the southern parts of the island. instead of burrowing in the ground like the common wasp (_vespa vulgaris_), or in the hollows of trees like the hornet (_vespa crabro_), it boldly swings its nest from the extremity of a branch, where it exhibits some resemblance, in size and colour, to a welsh wig hung out to dry. we have seen more than one of these nests on the same tree, at catrine, in ayrshire, and at wemyss bay, in renfrewshire. the tree which the britannic wasp prefers is the silver fir, whose broad flat branch serves as a protection to the suspended nest both from the sun and the rain. we have also known a wasp's nest of this kind in a gooseberry-bush, at red-house castle, east lothian. the materials and structure are nearly the same as those employed by the common wasp, and which we have already described. (j. r.) [we have before us a beautiful example of a nest made by this species of wasp. there are no less than three consecutive coverings quite entire, while another is about three-fourths completed, and a fifth is just begun. the illustration exhibits a very perfect specimen.] [illustration] a singular nest of a species of wasp is figured by réaumur, but is apparently rare in this country, as kirby and spence mention only a single nest of similar construction, found in a garden at east-dale. this nest is of a flattened globular figure, and composed of a great number of envelopes, so as to assume a considerable resemblance to a half-expanded provence rose. the british specimen mentioned by kirby and spence had only one platform of cells; réaumur had two; but there was a large vacant space, which would probably have been filled with cells, had the nest not been taken away as a specimen. the whole nest was not much larger than a rose, and was composed of paper exactly similar to that employed by the common ground-wasp.[x] [this is probably the nest of _v. rufa_. we possess several specimens of the nest, one of which corresponds tolerably closely with the edifice described in the work.] [illustration: wasp's nest.] there is another species of social-wasp (_epipone nidulans_, latr.) meriting attention from the singular construction of its nest. it forms one or more terraces of cells, similar to those of the common wasp, but without the protection of an outer wall, and quite exposed to the weather. swammerdam found a nest of this description attached to the stem of a nettle. réaumur says that they are sometimes attached to the branch of a thorn or other shrub, or to stalks of grass;--peculiarities which prove that there are several species of these wasps. [illustration: wasps' cells attached to a branch.] the most remarkable circumstance in the architecture of this species of vespiary is, that it is not horizontal, like those formerly described, but nearly vertical. the reason appears to be, that if it had been horizontal, the cells must have been frequently filled with rain; whereas, in the position in which it is placed, the rain runs off without lodging. it is, besides, invariably placed so as to face the north or the east, and consequently is less exposed to rains, which most frequently come with southerly or westerly winds. it is another remarkable peculiarity, that, unlike the nests of other wasps, it is covered with a shining coat of varnish, to prevent moisture from soaking into the texture of the wasp's paper. the laying on this varnish, indeed, forms a considerable portion of the labour of the colony, and individuals may be seen employed for hours together spreading it on with their tongues. [illustration: comb of polistes.] [there is a genus of foreign hymenoptera, called _polistes_, which is remarkable for the building powers possessed by its members. the accompanying illustration is taken from a nest in the british museum, and is given of the natural size. the cells are not hexagonal, like those of the _epipone_, but are roundish in form. those in the centre assume a roughly hexagonal form by pressure, but those which form the circumference of the cell-group are nearly round, especially on their outer sides. the cells are not of uniform width, but are narrower at the base than at the mouth, thus causing the group to assume the form which is seen in the illustration. this curious group of cells was brought from bareilly, in the east indies, and in the same collection there are several other specimens, varying considerably both in shape and size.] few circumstances are more striking, with regard to insects, as kirby and spence justly remark, than the great and incessant labour which maternal affection for their progeny leads them to undergo. some of these exertions are so disproportionate to the size of the insect, that nothing short of ocular conviction could attribute them to such an agent. a wild bee, or a wasp, for instance, as we have seen, will dig a hole in a hard bank of earth some inches deep, and five or six times its own size, labouring unremittingly at this arduous task for several days in succession, and scarcely allowing itself a moment for eating or repose. it will then occupy as much time in searching for a store of food; and no sooner is this finished, than it will set about repeating the process, and, before it dies, will have completed five or six similar cells, or even more. we shall have occasion more particularly to dwell upon the geometrical arrangement of the cells, both of the wasp and of the social-bee, in our description of those interesting operations, which have long attracted the notice, and commanded the admiration of mathematicians and naturalists. a few observations may here be properly bestowed upon the _material_ with which the wasp-family construct the interior of their nests. the wasp is a paper-maker, and a most perfect and intelligent one. while mankind were arriving, by slow degrees, at the art of fabricating this valuable substance, the wasp was making it before their eyes, by very much the same process as that by which human hands now manufacture it with the best aid of chemistry and machinery. while some nations carved their records on wood, and stone, and brass, and leaden tablets,--others, more advanced, wrote with a style on wax,--others employed the inner bark of trees, and others the skins of animals rudely prepared,--the wasp was manufacturing a firm and durable paper. even when the papyrus was rendered more fit, by a process of art, for the transmission of ideas in writing, the wasp was a better artisan than the egyptians; for the early attempts at paper-making were so rude, that the substance produced was almost useless, from being extremely friable. the paper of the papyrus was formed of the leaves of the plant, dried, pressed, and polished; the wasp alone knew how to reduce vegetable fibres to a pulp, and then unite them by a size or glue, spreading the substance out into a smooth and delicate leaf. this is exactly the process of paper-making. it would seem that the wasp knows, as the modern paper-makers now know, that the fibres of rags, whether linen or cotton, are not the only materials that can be used in the formation of paper; she employs other vegetable matters, converting them into a proper consistency by her assiduous exertions. in some respects she is more skilful even than our paper-makers, for she takes care to retain her fibres of sufficient length, by which she renders her paper as strong as she requires. many manufacturers of the present day cut their material into small bits, and thus produce a rotten article. one great distinction between good and bad paper is its toughness; and this difference is invariably produced by the fibre of which it is composed being long, and therefore tough; or short, and therefore friable. the wasp has been labouring at her manufacture of paper from her first creation, with precisely the same instruments and the same materials; and her success has been unvarying. her machinery is very simple, and therefore it is never out of order. she learns nothing, and she forgets nothing. men, from time to time, lose their excellence in particular arts, and they are slow in finding out real improvements. such improvements are often the effect of accident. paper is now manufactured very extensively by machinery in all its stages; and thus, instead of a single sheet being made by hand, a stream of paper is poured out, which would form a roll large enough to extend round the globe, if such a length were desirable. the inventors of this machinery, messrs. fourdrinier, it is said, spent the enormous sum of 40,000_l._. in vain attempts to render the machine capable of determining with precision the width of the roll; and, at last, accomplished their object, at the suggestion of a bystander, by a strap revolving upon an axis, at a cost of three shillings and sixpence. such is the difference between the workings of human knowledge and experience, and those of animal instinct. we proceed slowly and in the dark, but our course is not bounded by a narrow line, for it seems difficult to say what is the perfection of any art; animals go clearly to a given point--but they can go no further. we may, however, learn something from their perfect knowledge of what is within their range. it is not improbable that if man had attended in an earlier state of society to the labours of wasps, he would have sooner known how to make paper. we are still behind in our arts and sciences, because we have not always been observers. if we had watched the operations of insects, and the structure of insects in general, with more care, we might have been far advanced in the knowledge of many arts which are yet in their infancy, for nature has given us abundance of patterns. we have learnt to perfect some instruments of sound by examining the structure of the human ear; and the mechanism of an eye has suggested some valuable improvements in achromatic glasses. réaumur has given a very interesting account of the wasps of cayenne (_chartergus nidulans_), which hang their nests in trees.[y] like the bird of africa called the social grosbeak (_loxia socia_), they fabricate a perfect house, capable of containing many hundreds of their community, and suspend it on high out of the reach of attack. but the cayenne wasp is a more expert artist than the bird. he is a pasteboard-maker;--and the card with which he forms the exterior covering of his abode is so smooth, so strong, so uniform in its texture, and so white, that the most skilful manufacturer of this substance might be proud of the work. it takes ink admirably. the nest of the pasteboard-making wasp is impervious to water. it hangs upon the branch of a tree, as represented in the engraving; and those rain-drops which penetrate through the leaves never rest upon its hard and polished surface. a small opening for the entrance of the insects terminates its funnel-shaped bottom. it is impossible to unite more perfectly the qualities of lightness and strength. [illustration: nest of the pasteboard-maker wasp, with part removed to show the arrangement of the cells.] in the specimen from which we take our description, the length of which is nine inches, six stout circular platforms stretch internally across, like so many floors, and fixed all round to the walls of the nest. they are smooth above, with hexagonal cells on the under surface. these platforms are not quite flat, but rather concave above, like a watch-glass reversed; the centre of each platform is perforated for the admission of the wasps, at the extremity of a short funnel-like projection, and through this access is gained from story to story. on each platform, therefore, can the wasps walk leisurely about attending to the pupæ secured in the cells, which, with the mouths downward, cover the ceiling above their heads--the height of the latter being just convenient for their work. [unlike the habitations made by the british wasps, and which are vacated annually, this nest is permanent, and serves for several successive seasons. of course, it must be enlarged continually, so as to accommodate an ever-increasing number of inhabitants. the mode of enlarging is sufficiently curious. the british wasps enlarge their nests either by making a larger covering and then removing the smaller, or by raising blisters on the outside, and eating away beneath them. but the pendulous wasp of brazil proceeds on just the opposite principle, making new cells first, and covering them afterwards. the new tier of cells is set on the bottom of the nest, which thus becomes the floor of that tier, and a new bottom is then made beneath these new cells.] pendent wasps' nests of enormous size are found in ceylon, suspended often in the talipot-tree at the height of seventy feet. the appearance of these nests thus elevated, with the larger leaves of the tree, used by the natives as umbrellas and tents, waving over them, is very singular. though no species of european wasp is a storer of honey, yet this rule does not apply to certain species of south america. in the 'annals and magazine of natural history' for june, 1841, will be found a detailed account, with a figure, of the pendent nest of a species termed by mr. a. white _myrapetra scutellaris_. the external case consists of stout cardboard covered with conical knobs of various sizes. the entrances are artfully protected by pent-roofs from the weather and heavy rains; and are tortuous, so as to render the ingress of a moth or other large insect difficult. internally are fourteen combs, exclusive of a globular mass, the nucleus of several circular combs, which are succeeded by others of an arched form--that is, constituting segments of circles. many of the uppermost combs were found to have the cells filled with honey of a brownish-red colour, but which had lost its flavour. after entering into some minute details, mr. a. white makes the following interesting observations:--"azara, in the account of his residence in various parts of south america, mentions the fact of _several wasps_ of these countries collecting honey. the baron walchenaer, who edited the french translation of this work, published in 1809, thought that the spanish traveller, who was unskilled in entomology, had made some mistake with regard to the insects, and regarded the so-called _wasps_ as belonging to some _bee_ of the genus of which _apis amalthea_ is the type (_melipona_). latreille (who afterwards corrected his mistake) also believed that they must be referred to the genera _melipona_ or _trigona_--insects which in south america take the place of our honey-bee. these authors were afterwards clearly convinced of the correctness of azara's observations, by the circumstance of m. auguste de st. hilaire finding near the river uruguay an oval grey-coloured nest of a papery consistence, like that of the european wasps, suspended from the branches of a small shrub about a foot from the ground: he and two other attendants partook of some honey (contained in its cells) and found it of an agreeable sweetness, free from the pharmaceutic taste which so frequently accompanies european honey. he gives a detailed account of its poisonous effects on himself and his two men. afterwards he procured specimens of the wasp, which was described by latreille under the name of _polistes lecheguana_." [illustration: nest of myrapetra.] [the accompanying illustration shows this remarkable nest, both as it appears externally, and when divided vertically. the material is probably the dung of the capincha, an animal allied to the guinea-pig and the agouti. the natives, at all events, state that such is the case, and the aspect of the nest as seen through a magnifying glass carries out this assertion. the nest is hung to a branch, and is seldom more than four feet from the ground. the insect is a very little one in comparison with the size of the nest, which is sixteen inches in length, and twelve in width. the largest specimens of this insect are only one third of an inch long, while the generality scarcely exceed a quarter of an inch. its colour is brown. in the section is shown the very peculiar shape of the combs. at the upper part is seen the globular centre, surrounded with a comb that completely encircles it. other combs follow in order, but are less curved as they approach the bottom of the nest. the insects obtain admission to the several tiers by means of apertures which are left between the extremities of the comb and the wall of the nest. the combs are made of the same material as the outer wall, but are very thin and paper-like. this nest may be seen in the british museum.] it would seem that the nest described by mr. white agrees with that of a wasp termed _chiguana_ by azara (or _lecheguana_), and is very different to the slight papery nest of the _polistes lecheguana_ of latreille. we may add that m. auguste de st. hilaire speaks of two species of wasps remarkable for storing honey in south america; the honey of one is white, of the other reddish. that the habits of these honey-wasps must differ considerably from those of any of our european species we may at once admit; perhaps in some points of their economy these insects may approach the bee. [in the same country as is inhabited by the _myrapetra_, and in much the same localities, is sometimes found the nest of another honey-making wasp, called _nectarinia analis_, a small and plainly-clad insect. it is hung to the branches of low trees and underwood, and often includes both twigs and leaves in its structure. the combs of this insect are greatly curved, in order to suit the shape of the general covering, but are not arranged with that beautiful regularity which distinguishes those of the _myrapetra_. a specimen of this nest may be seen in the british museum, and as the outer covering has been partially taken away, the observer will be enabled to note the general form of the combs and the structure of the cells. in the accompanying illustration are shown the habitations of two remarkable insects, both belonging to the _hymenoptera_. indeed, the greater number of pensile nests made by insects are formed by members of this important order; and, if we were to exclude all the wasps, bees, and ants, we should find that we had excluded about ninety per cent. of the pensile architects. the left-hand figure represents a nest made by a species of _polybia_, inhabiting brazil. it is made of a papery kind of substance, of rather slight texture, and is fixed to the stalk of a reed. the outside of the nest is seen to be marked with a series of horizontal ribs. these show the progressive stages of the nest, each rib marking a layer of paper as it was spread by the insect builder. the combs extend throughout the entire nest, the largest occupying the centre, and the smallest the ends. each comb is firmly supported by a footstalk, which is fixed, not to the upper tier of cells, as is the case with the british wasps, but to the reed on which the nest is built. other species of _polybia_ build nests different in shape and arrangement, though still of the pensile character. one species builds a nearly globular nest, made in a rather curious manner. carrying out still farther the principle on which the cardboard wasp enlarges its nest, the _polybia_ entirely covers the outer wall with cells, and then makes a new wall over them. when a nest has reached a tolerable size, it is composed of a whole series of concentric combs, the roof of each having been originally the outer wall of the nest. there are in the british museum some admirable specimens of these nests, in some of which the process of enlargement can be very clearly traced. patches of new cells are seen upon the external covering, while a few breaches in the structure show the concentric combs. [illustration: nests of polybia.] one very curious point about these cells is, that they are not uniform in their direction, as is generally the case with those of social hymenoptera. the greater part, such as the various wasps, hornets, and their kin, have the mouths of the cells downwards, while the cells of the hive-bee are nearly horizontal. but the cells of this insect are arranged without the least regard to their position, all the bases pointing towards the centre of the nest, and all the mouths radiating outwards. [illustration: nests of synæca and polybia.] there seems to be scarcely any bound to the variety which exists in the nests of the social hymenoptera. the insect which makes the nest which is represented in the illustration is a native of brazil, and is known to entomologists as _synæca cyanea_. the first of these names is given to it on account of its social habits, and the second, in reference to the bluish colour of its body. it is rather larger than the preceding insects, being about three quarters of an inch in length. its wings are brown. the shape and size of the nest are exceedingly variable, but it is almost invariably longer than wide, and is fixed to a branch or some similar object. sometimes it attains considerable dimensions, and has been known to measure a full yard in length. yet, however large it may be, there is only a single comb, which is set upon the side of the nest next the branch, and, in consequence, has almost all its cells placed in a horizontal direction. in the illustration, the right-hand figure represents the external appearance of the nest, and the central figure shows the manner in which the single comb is set upon the branch. the nest which occupies the left hand of the illustration is made by a species of _polybia_, and is here given in order to show a remarkable example of similarity in the mode of building adopted by two different insects. in the one case, however, the cells are all fastened by their bases to the branch, but in the other the cells are attached to one common base which is prolonged into a footstalk. there have been lately discovered some very remarkable social nests. specimens of both these nests may be seen in the entomological department of the museum at oxford. the first is formed very much like a rather flattened florence flask, and is hung by the neck from the branch of a tree. it is made of a strong, parchment-like substance, formed by innumerable silken threads woven and matted together into a kind of felt. when it was cut open a most singular sight was exhibited. nearly the whole of the interior was covered with the pupæ of some butterfly, all hanging by their tails, and many of them suspended to a twig which projected downwards into the nest. although the nest is barely eight inches in length, a great proportion of which is taken up by the neck, about one hundred pupæ were found in it. at the bottom of the nest is a small and nearly circular aperture, through which the insects could make their way as soon as they escaped from the pupal envelope, and before their wings became extended and hardened. the butterfly which makes this singular nest is a native of mexico, and is named _eucheira socialis_. the colour of its wings is dark brown, with an ill-defined white band across them. the second nest was brought from tropical africa, and is remarkable for another peculiarity. it is shaped much like a cushion, and its measurements are, eight inches in length, five and a half in breadth, and three in depth. instead of having only one place of exit for the inmates, it has thirteen or fourteen, all formed in the same manner. a number of short, stiff, and almost bristly threads are set round the apertures, their ends all projecting outwards, and converging to a point, where they all meet and even slightly cross each other. owing to this structure, it is easy enough for any of the insects to pass out, as the converging hairs yield to the pressure, whereas they form an effectual barrier against any insect that wishes to creep into the nest. the material of the nest is very strong and hard, and is formed of two layers, the inner being made of smooth brown silk, and the outer of harsher and stronger orange silk threads.] _chapter v._ architecture of the hive-bee. [illustration: part of a honeycomb, and bees at work.] although the hive-bee (_apis mellifica_) has engaged the attention of the curious from the earliest ages, recent discoveries prove that we are yet only beginning to arrive at a correct knowledge of its wonderful proceedings. pliny informs us that astromachus, of soles, in cilicia, devoted fifty-eight years to the study; and that philiscus the thracian spent his whole life in forests for the purpose of observing them. but in consequence (as we may naturally infer) of the imperfect methods of research, assuming that what they did discover was known to aristotle, columella, and pliny, we are justified in pronouncing the statements of these philosophers, as well as the embellished poetical pictures of virgil, to be nothing more than conjecture, almost in every particular erroneous. it was not indeed till 1711, when glass hives were invented by maraldi, a mathematician of nico, that what we may call the in-door proceedings of bees could be observed. this important invention was soon afterwards taken advantage of by m. réaumur, who laid the foundation of the more recent discoveries of john hunter, schirach, and the hubers. the admirable architecture which bees exhibit in their miniature cities has, by these and other naturalists, been investigated with great care and accuracy. we shall endeavour to give as full an account of the wonderful structures as our limits will allow. in this we shall chiefly follow m. huber the elder, whose researches appear almost miraculous when we consider that he was blind. at the early age of seventeen this remarkable man lost his sight by _gutta serena_, the "drop serene" of our own milton. but though cut off from the sight of nature's works, he dedicated himself to their study. he saw them through the eyes of the admirable woman whom he married; his philosophical reasonings pointed out to her all that he wanted to ascertain; and as she reported to him from time to time the results of his ingenious experiments, he was enabled to complete, by diligent investigation, one of the most accurate and satisfactory accounts of the habits of bees which had ever been produced. it had long been known that the bees of a hive consist of three sorts, which was ascertained by m. réaumur to be distinguished as workers or neuters, constituting the bulk of the population; drones or males, the least numerous class; and a single female, the queen and mother of the colony. schirach subsequently discovered the very extraordinary fact, which huber and others have proved beyond doubt, that when a hive is accidentally deprived of a queen, the grub of a worker can be and is fed in a particular manner so as to become a queen and supply the loss.[z] but another discovery of m. huber is of more importance to the subject of architecture now before us. by minute research he ascertained that the workers which had been considered by former naturalists to be all alike, are divided into two important classes, nurse-bees and wax-makers. the _nurse-bees_ are rather smaller than the wax-workers, and even when gorged with honey their belly does not, as in the others, appear distended. their business is to collect honey, and impart it to their companions; to feed and take care of the young grubs, and to complete the combs and cells which have been founded by the others; but they are not charged with provisioning the hive. the _wax-workers_, on the other hand, are not only a little larger, but their stomach, when gorged with honey, is capable of considerable distension, as m. huber proved by repeated experiments. he also ascertained that neither of the varieties can alone fulfil all the functions shared among the workers of a hive. he painted those of each class with different colours, in order to study their proceedings, and their labours were not interchanged. in another experiment, after supplying a hive deprived of a queen with brood and pollen, he saw the nurse-bees quickly occupied in the nutrition of the grubs, while those of the wax-working class neglected them. when hives are full of combs, the wax-workers disgorge their honey into the ordinary magazines, making no wax; but if they want a reservoir for its reception, and if their queen does not find cells ready made wherein to lay her eggs, they retain the honey in the stomach, and in twenty-four hours they produce wax. then the labour of constructing combs begins. it might perhaps be supposed that, when the country does not afford honey, the wax-workers consume the provision stored up in the hive. but they are not permitted to touch it. a portion of honey is carefully preserved, and the cells containing it are protected by a waxen covering, which is never removed except in case of extreme necessity, and when honey is not to be otherwise procured. the cells are at no time opened during summer; other reservoirs, always exposed, contribute to the daily use of the community; each bee, however, supplying itself from them with nothing but what is required for present wants. wax-workers appear with large bellies at the entrance of their hive only when the country affords a copious collection of honey. from this it may be concluded that the production of the waxy matter depends on a concurrence of circumstances not invariably subsisting. nurse-bees also produce wax, but in a very inferior quantity to what is elaborated by the real wax-workers. another characteristic whereby an attentive observer can determine the moment of bees collecting sufficient honey to produce wax, is the strong odour of both these substances from the hive, which is not equally intense at any other time. from such data, it was easy for m. huber to discover whether the bees worked in wax in his own hives, and in those of the other cultivators of the district. there is still another sort of bee, first observed by huber in 1809, which appear to be only casual inmates of the hive, and which are driven forth to starve, or are killed in conflict. they closely resemble the ordinary workers, but are less hairy, and of a much darker colour. these have been called _black bees_, and are supposed by huber to be defective bees;[aa] but kirby and spence conjecture that they are toil-worn superannuated workers, of no further use, and are therefore sacrificed, because burdensome to a community which tolerates no unnecessary inmates. preparation of wax. in order to build the beautiful combs, which every one must have repeatedly seen and admired, it is indispensable that the architect-bees should be provided with the materials--with the wax, in short, of which they are principally formed. before we follow them, therefore, to the operation of building, it may be necessary to inquire how the wax itself is procured. here the discoveries of recent inquirers have been little less singular and unexpected than in other departments of the history of these extraordinary insects. now that it has been proved that wax is secreted by bees, it is not a little amusing to read the accounts given by our elder naturalists, of its being collected from flowers. our countryman, thorley,[ab] appears to have been the first who suspected the true origin of wax, and wildman (1769) seems also to have been aware of it; but réaumur, and particularly bonnet, though both of them in general shrewd and accurate observers, were partially deceived by appearances. the bees, we are erroneously told, search for wax "upon all sorts of trees and plants, but especially the rocket, the simple poppy, and in general all kinds of flowers. they amass it with their hair, with which their whole body is invested. it is something pleasant to see them roll in the yellow dust which falls from the chives to the bottom of the flowers, and then return covered with the same grains; but their best method of gathering the wax, especially when it is not very plentiful, is to carry away all the little particles of it with their jaws and fore feet, to press the wax upon them into little pellets, and slide them one at a time, with their middle feet, into a socket or cavity, that opens at their hinder feet, and serves to keep the burthen fixed and steady till they return home. they are sometimes exposed to inconveniences in this work by the motion of the air, and the delicate texture of the flowers, which bend under their feet and hinder them from packing up their booty, on which occasions they fix themselves in some steady place, where they press the wax into a mass, and wind it round their legs, making frequent returns to the flowers; and when they have stocked themselves with a sufficient quantity, they immediately repair to their habitation. two men, in the compass of a whole day, could not amass so much as two little balls of wax; and yet they are no more than the common burthen of a single bee, and the produce of one journey. those who are employed in collecting the wax from flowers are assisted by their companions, who attend them at the door of the hive, ease them of their load at their arrival, brush their feet, and shake out the two balls of wax; upon which the others return to the fields to gather new treasure, while those who disburthened them convey their charge to the magazine. but some bees, again, when they have brought their load home, carry it themselves to the lodge, and there deliver it, laying hold of one end by their hinder feet, and with their middle feet sliding it out of the cavity that contained it; but this is evidently a work of supererogation which they are not obliged to perform. the packets of wax continue a few moments in the lodge, till a set of officers come, who are charged with a third commission, which is to knead this wax with their feet, and spread it out into different sheets, laid one above another. this is the unwrought wax, which is easily distinguished to be the produce of different flowers, by the variety of colours that appear on each sheet. when they afterwards come to work, they knead it over again; they purify and whiten, and then reduce it to a uniform colour. they use this wax with a wonderful frugality; for it is easy to observe that the whole family is conducted by prudence, and all their actions regulated by good government. everything is granted to necessity, but nothing to superfluity; not the least grain of wax is neglected, and if they waste it, they are frequently obliged to provide more; at those very times when they want to get their provision of honey, they take off the wax that closed the cells, and carry it to the magazine."[ac] réaumur hesitated in believing that this was a correct view of the subject, from observing the great difference between wax and pollen; but he was inclined to think the pollen might be swallowed, partially digested, and disgorged in the form of a kind of paste. schirach also mentions, that it was remarked by a certain lusatian, that wax comes from the rings of the body, because, on withdrawing a bee while it is at work, and extending its body, the wax may be seen there in the form of scales. the celebrated john hunter shrewdly remarked that the pellets of pollen seen on the thighs of bees are of different colours on different bees, while the shade of the new-made comb is always uniform; and therefore he concluded that pollen was not the origin of wax. pollen also, he observed, is collected with greater avidity for old hives, where the comb is complete, than for those where it is only begun, which would hardly be the case were it the material of wax. he found that when the weather was cold and wet in june, so that a young swarm was prevented from going abroad, as much comb was constructed as had been made in an equal time when the weather was favourable and fine. the pellets of pollen on the thighs being thence proved not to be wax, he came to the conclusion that it was an external secretion, originating between the plates of the belly. when he first observed this, he felt not a little embarrassed to explain the phenomenon, and doubted whether new plates were forming, or whether bees cast their old ones as lobsters do their shell. by melting the scales, he ascertained at least that they were wax; and his opinion was confirmed by the fact, that the scales are only to be found during the season when the combs are constructed. but he did not succeed in completing the discovery by observing the bees actually detach the scales, though he conjectured they might be taken up by others, if they were once shaken out from between the rings.[ad] we need not be so much surprised at mistakes committed upon this subject, when we recollect that honey itself was believed by the ancients to be an emanation of the air--a dew that descended upon flowers, as if it had a limited commission to fall only on them. the exposure and correction of error is one of the first steps to genuine knowledge; and when we are aware of the stumbling-blocks which have interrupted the progress of others, we can always travel more securely in the way of truth. that wax is secreted is proved both by the wax-pouches within the rings of the abdomen, and by actual experiment. huber and others fed bees entirely upon honey or sugar, and, notwithstanding, wax was produced and combs formed as if they had been at liberty to select their food. "when bees were confined," says m. huber, "for the purpose of discovering whether honey was sufficient for the production of wax, they supported their captivity patiently, and showed uncommon perseverance in rebuilding their combs as we removed them. our experiments required the presence of grubs; honey and water had to be provided; the bees were to be supplied with combs containing brood, and at the same time it was necessary to confine them, that they might not seek pollen abroad. having a swarm by chance, which had become useless from sterility of the queen, we devoted it for our investigation in one of my leaf-hives, which was glazed on both sides. we removed the queen, and substituted combs containing eggs and young grubs, but no cell with farina; even the smallest particle of the substance which john hunter conjectured to be the basis of the nutriment of the young was taken away. "nothing remarkable occurred during the first and second day: the bees brooded over the young, and seemed to take an interest in them; but at sunset on the third a loud noise was heard in the hive. impatient to discover the reason, we opened a shutter, and saw all in confusion; the brood was abandoned, the workers ran in disorder over the combs, thousands rushed towards the lower part of the hive, and those about the entrance gnawed at its grating. their design was not equivocal; they wished to quit their prison. some imperious necessity evidently obliged them to seek elsewhere what they could not find in the hive; and apprehensive that they might perish if i restrained them longer from yielding to their instinct, i set them at liberty. the whole swarm escaped, but the hour being unfavourable for their collections, they flew around the hive, and did not depart far from it. increasing darkness and the coolness of the air compelled them very soon to return. probably these circumstances calmed their agitation; for we observed them peaceably remounting their combs; order seemed re-established, and we took advantage of this moment to close the hive. "next day, the 19th of july, we saw the rudiments of two royal cells, which the bees had formed on one of the brood-combs. this evening, at the same hour as on the preceding, we again heard a loud buzzing in the closed hive; agitation and disorder rose to the highest degree, and we were again obliged to let the swarm escape. the bees did not remain long absent from their habitation; they quieted and returned as before. we remarked on the 20th that the royal cells had not been continued, as would have been the case in the ordinary state of things. a great tumult took place in the evening; the bees appeared to be in a delirium; we set them at liberty, and order was restored on their return. their captivity having endured five days, we thought it needless to protract it farther; besides, we were desirous of knowing whether the brood was in a suitable condition, and if it had made the usual progress; and we wished also to try to discover what might be the cause of the periodical agitation of the bees. m. burnens (the assistant of huber), having exposed the two brood-combs, the royal cells were immediately recognised; but it was obvious that they had not been enlarged. why should they? neither eggs, grubs, nor that kind of paste peculiar to the individuals of their species were there! the other cells were vacant likewise; no brood, not an atom of paste, was in them. thus, the worms had died of hunger. had we precluded the bees from all means of sustenance by removing the farina? to decide this point, it was necessary to confide other brood to the care of the same insects, now giving them abundance of pollen. they had not been enabled to make any collections while we examined their combs. on this occasion they escaped in an apartment where the windows were shut; and after substituting young worms for those they had allowed to perish, we returned them to their prison. next day we remarked that they had resumed courage; they had consolidated the combs, and remained on the brood. they were then provided with fragments of combs, where other workers had stored up farina; and to be able to observe what they did with it, we took this substance from some of their cells, and spread it on the board of the hive. the bees soon discovered both the farina in the combs and what we had exposed to them. they crowded to the cells, and also descending to the bottom of the hives, took the pollen grain by grain in their teeth, and conveyed it to their mouths. those that had eaten it most greedily mounted the combs before the rest, and stopping on the cells of the young worms, inserted their heads, and remained there for a certain time. m. burnens opened one of the divisions of the hive gently, and powdered the workers, for the purpose of recognising them when they should ascend the combs. he observed them during several hours, and by this means ascertained that they took so great a quantity of pollen only to impart it to their young. then withdrawing the portions of comb which had been placed by us on the board of the hive, we saw that the pollen had been sensibly diminished in quantity. they were returned to the bees, to augment their provision still further, for the purpose of extending the experiment. the royal, as well as several common, cells were soon closed; and, on opening the hive, all the worms were found to have prospered. some still had their food before them; the cells of others that had spun were shut with a waxen covering. "we witnessed these facts repeatedly, and always with equal interest. they so decisively prove the regard of the bees towards the grubs which they are intrusted with rearing, that we shall not seek for any other explanation of their conduct. another fact, no less extraordinary, and much more difficult to be accounted for, was exhibited by bees constrained to work in wax, several times successively, from the syrup of sugar. towards the close of the experiment they ceased to feed the young, though in the beginning these had received the usual attention. they even frequently dragged them from their cells, and carried them out of the hive."[ae] mr. wiston, of germantown, in the united states, mentions a fact conclusive on this subject. "i had," says he, "a late swarm last summer, which, in consequence of the drought, filled only one box with honey. as it was late in the season, and the food collected would not enable the bees to subsist for the winter, i shut up the hive, and gave them half-a-pint of honey every day. they immediately set to work, filled the empty cells, and then constructed new cells enough to fill another box, in which they deposited the remainder of the honey." a more interesting proof is thus related by the same gentleman: "in the summer of 1824, i traced some wild bees, which had been feeding on the flowers in my meadow, to their home in the woods, and which i found in the body of an oak-tree, exactly fifty feet above the ground. having caused the entrance to the hive to be closed by an expert climber, the limbs were separated in detail, until the trunk alone was left standing. to the upper extremity of this, a tackle-fall was attached so as to connect it with an adjacent tree, and, a saw being applied below, the naked trunk was cut through. when the immense weight was lowered nearly to the earth, the ropes broke, and the mass fell with a violent crash. the part of the tree which contained the hive, separated by the saw, was conveyed to my garden, and placed in a vertical position. on being released, the bees issued out by thousands, and though alarmed, soon became reconciled to the change of situation. by removing a part of the top of the block the interior of the hive was exposed to view, and the comb itself, nearly six feet in height, was observed to have fallen down two feet below the roof of the cavity. to repair the damage was the first object of the labourers: in doing which, a large part of their store of honey was expended, because it was at too late a season to obtain materials from abroad. in the following february these industrious but unfortunate insects issuing in a confused manner from the hive, fell dead in thousands around its entrance, the victims of a poverty created by their efforts to repair the ruins of their habitation."[af] in another experiment, m. huber confined a swarm so that they had access to nothing beside honey, and five times successively removed the combs with the precaution of preventing the escape of the bees from the apartment. on each occasion they produced new combs, which puts it beyond dispute that honey is sufficient to effect the secretion of wax without the aid of pollen. instead of supplying the bees with honey, they were subsequently fed, exclusively, on pollen and fruit; but though they were kept in captivity for eight days under a bell-glass, with a comb containing nothing but farina, they neither made wax nor was any secreted under the rings. in another series of experiments, in which bees were fed with different sorts of sugar, it was found that nearly one-sixth of the sugar was converted into wax, dark-coloured sugar yielding more than double the quantity of refined sugar. it may not be out of place to subjoin the few anatomical and physiological facts which have been ascertained by huber, maddle, jurine, and latreille. [illustration: worker-bee, magnified--showing the position of the scales of wax.] the first stomach of the worker-bee, according to latreille,[ag] is appropriated to the reception of honey, but this is never found in the second stomach, which is surrounded with muscular rings, and from one end to the other very much resembles a cask covered with hoops. it is within these rings that the wax is produced; but the secreting vessels for this purpose have hitherto escaped the researches of the acutest naturalists. huber, however, plausibly enough conjectures that they are contained in the internal lining of the wax-pockets, which consists of a cellular substance reticulated with hexagons. the wax-pockets themselves, which are concealed by the overlapping of the rings, may be seen by pressing the abdomen of a worker-bee so as to lengthen it, and separate the rings further from each other. when this has been done, there may be seen on each of the four intermediate hoops of the belly, and separated by what may be called the keel (_carina_), two whitish-coloured pouches, of a soft texture, and in the form of a trapezium. within, the little plates or scales of wax are produced from time to time, and are removed and employed as we shall presently see. we may remark, that it is chiefly the wax-workers which produce the wax; for though the nurse-bees are furnished with wax-pockets, they secrete it only in very small quantities; while in the queen-bee, and the males or drones, no pockets are discoverable. [illustration: abdomen of wax-worker bee.] "all the scales," says huber, "are not alike in every bee, for a difference is perceptible in consistence, shape, and thickness; some are so thin and transparent as to require a magnifier to be recognised, or we have been able to discover nothing but spiculæ similar to those of water freezing. neither the spiculæ nor the scales rest immediately on the membrane of the pocket, a slight liquid medium is interposed, serving to lubricate the joinings of the rings, or to render the extraction of the scales easier, as otherwise they might adhere too firmly to the sides of the pockets." m. huber has seen the scales so large as to project beyond the rings, being visible without stretching the segments, and of a whitish yellow, from greater thickness lessening their transparency. these shades of difference in the scales of various bees, their enlarged dimensions, the fluid interposed beneath them, the correspondence between the scale and the size and form of the pockets, seem to infer the oozing of this substance through the membranes whereon it is moulded. he was confirmed in this opinion by the escape of a transparent fluid on piercing the membrane, whose internal surface seemed to be applied to the soft parts of the belly. this he found coagulated in cooling, when it resembled wax, and again liquefied on exposure to heat. the scales themselves, also, melted and coagulated like wax.[ah] by chemical analysis, however, it appears that the wax of the rings is a more simple substance than that which composes the cells; for the latter is soluble in ether, and in spirit of turpentine, while the former is insoluble in ether, and but partially soluble in spirit of turpentine. it should seem to follow, that if the substance found lying under the rings be really the elements of wax, it undergoes some subsequent preparation after it is detached; and that the bees, in short, are capable of impregnating it with matter, imparting to it whiteness and ductility, whereas in its unprepared state it is only fusible. propolis. wax is not the only material employed by bees in their architecture. beside this, they make use of a brown, odoriferous, resinous substance, called _propolis_,[ai] more tenacious and extensible than wax, and well adapted for cementing and varnishing. it was strongly suspected by réaumur that the bees collected the propolis from those trees which are known to produce a similar gummy resin, such as the poplar, the birch, and the willow; but he was thrown into doubt by not being able to detect the bees in the act of procuring it, and by observing them to collect it where none of those trees, nor any other of the same description, grew. his bees also refused to make use of bitumen, and other resinous substances, with which he supplied them, though mr. knight, as we shall afterwards see, was more successful.[aj] long before the time of réaumur, however, mouffet, in his _insectarum theatrum_, quotes cordus for the opinion that propolis is collected from the buds of trees, such as the poplar and birch; and reim says it is collected from the pine and fir.[ak] huber at length set the question at rest; and his experiments and observations are so interesting, that we shall give them in his own words:-"for many years," says he, "i had fruitlessly endeavoured to find them on trees producing an analogous substance, though multitudes had been seen returning laden with it. "in july, some branches of the wild poplar, which had been cut since spring, with very large buds, full of a reddish, viscous, odoriferous matter, were brought to me, and i planted them in vessels before hives, in the way of the bees going out to forage, so that they could not be insensible of their presence. within a quarter of an hour, they were visited by a bee, which separating the sheath of a bud with its teeth, drew out threads of the viscous substance, and lodged a pellet of it in one of the baskets of its limbs; from another bud it collected another pellet for the opposite limb, and departed to the hive. a second bee took the place of the former in a few minutes, following the same procedure. young shoots of poplar, recently cut, did not seem to attract these insects, as their viscous matter had less consistence than the former.[al] "different experiments proved the identity of this substance with the propolis; and now, having only to discover how the bees applied it to use, we peopled a hive, so prepared as to fulfil our views. the bees, building upwards, soon reached the glass above; but, unable to quit their habitation, on account of rain, they were three weeks without bringing home propolis. their combs remained perfectly white until the beginning of july, when the state of the atmosphere became more favourable for our observations. serene, warm weather engaged them to forage, and they returned from the fields laden with a resinous gum, resembling a transparent jelly, and having the colour and lustre of the garnet. it was easily distinguished from the farinaceous pellets then collected by other bees. the workers bearing the propolis ran over the clusters, suspended from the roof of the hive, and rested on the rods supporting the combs, or sometimes stopped on the sides of their dwelling, in expectation of their companions coming to disencumber them of their burthen. we actually saw two or three arrive, and carry the propolis from off the limbs of each with their teeth. the upper part of the hive exhibited the most animated spectacle; thither a multitude of bees resorted from all quarters, to engage in the predominant occupation of the collection, distribution, and application of the propolis. some conveyed that of which they had unloaded the purveyors in their teeth, and deposited it in heaps; others hastened, before its hardening, to spread it out like a varnish, or formed it into strings, proportioned to the interstices of the sides of the hives to be filled up. nothing could be more diversified than the operations carried on. "the bees, apparently charged with applying the propolis within the cells, were easily distinguished from the multitude of workers, by the direction of their heads towards the horizontal pane forming the roof of the hive, and on reaching it, they deposited their burthen nearly in the middle of intervals separating the combs: then they conveyed the propolis to the real place of its destination. they suspended themselves by the claws of the hind legs to points of support, afforded by the viscosity of the propolis on the glass; and, as it were, swinging themselves backwards and forwards, brought the heap of this substance nearer to the cells at each impulse. here the bees employed their fore feet, which remained free, to sweep what the teeth had detached, and to unite the fragments scattered over the glass, which recovered all its transparency when the whole propolis was brought to the vicinity of the cells. "after some of the bees had smoothed down and cleaned out the glazed cells, feeling the way with their antennæ, one desisted, and having approached a heap of propolis, drew out a thread with its teeth. this being broken off, it was taken in the claws of the fore feet, and the bee, re-entering the cell, immediately placed it in the angle of two portions that had been smoothed, in which operation the fore feet and teeth were used alternately; but probably proving too clumsy, the thread was reduced and polished; and we admired the accuracy with which it was adjusted when the work was completed. the insect did not stop here: returning to the cell, it prepared other parts of it to receive a second thread, for which we did not doubt that the heap would be resorted to. contrary to our expectation, however, it availed itself of the portion of the thread cut off on the former occasion, arranged it in the appointed place, and gave it all the solidity and finish of which it was susceptible. other bees completed the work which the first had begun: and the sides of the cells were speedily secured with threads of propolis, while some were also put on the orifices; but we could not seize the moment when they were varnished, though it may be easily conceived how it is done."[am] this is not the only use to which bees apply the propolis. they are extremely solicitous to remove such insects or foreign bodies as happen to get admission into the hive. when so light as not to exceed their powers, they first kill the insect with their stings, and then drag it out with their teeth. but it sometimes happens, as was first observed by maraldi, and since by réaumur and others, that an ill-fated slug creeps into the hive: this is no sooner perceived than it is attacked on all sides, and stung to death. but how are the bees to carry out so heavy a burthen? such a labour would be in vain. to prevent the noxious smell which would arise from its putrefaction, they immediately embalm it, by covering every part of its body with propolis, through which no effluvia can escape. when a snail with a shell gets entrance, to dispose of it gives much less trouble and expense to the bees. as soon as it receives the first wound from a sting, it naturally retires within its shell. in this case, the bees, instead of pasting it all over with propolis, content themselves with gluing all round the margin of the shell, which is sufficient to render the animal for ever immovably fixed. mr. knight, the learned and ingenious president of the horticultural society, discovered by accident an artificial substance, more attractive than any of the resins experimentally tried by réaumur. having caused the decorticated part of a tree to be covered with a cement composed of bees'-wax and turpentine, he observed that this was frequented by hive-bees, who, finding it to be a very good propolis ready made, detached it from the tree with their mandibles, and then, as usual, passed it from the first leg to the second, and so on. when one bee had thus collected its load, another often came behind and despoiled it of all it had collected; a second and a third load were frequently lost in the same manner; and yet the patient insect pursued its operations without manifesting any signs of anger.[an] probably the latter circumstance, at which mr. knight seems to have been surprised, was nothing more than an instance of the division of labour so strikingly exemplified in every part of the economy of bees. [illustration: structure of the legs of the bee, for carrying propolis and pollen, magnified.] it may not be out of place here to describe the apparatus with which the worker-bees are provided for the purpose of carrying the propolis as well as the pollen of flowers to the hive, and which has just been alluded to in the observations of mr. knight. the shin or middle portion of the hind pair of legs is actually formed into a triangular basket, admirably adapted to this design. the bottom of this basket is composed of a smooth, shining, horn-like substance, hollowed out in the substance of the limb, and surrounded with a margin of strong and thickly-set bristles. whatever materials, therefore, may be placed by the bee in the interior of this basket, are secured from falling out by the bristles around it, whose elasticity will even allow the load to be heaped beyond their points without letting it fall. in the case of propolis, when the bee is loading her singular basket, she first kneads the piece she has detached with her mandibles, till it becomes somewhat dry and less adhesive, as otherwise it would stick to her limbs. this preliminary process sometimes occupies nearly half an hour. she then passes it backwards by means of her feet to the cavity of her basket, giving it two or three pats to make it adhere; and when she adds a second portion to the first, she often finds it necessary to pat it still harder. when she has procured as much as the basket will conveniently hold, she flies off with it to the hive. the building of the cells. the notion commonly entertained respecting glass hives is altogether erroneous. those who are unacquainted with bees, imagine that, by means of a glass hive, all their proceedings may be easily watched and recorded; but it is to be remembered that bees are exceedingly averse to the intrusion of light, and their first operation in such cases is to close up every chink by which light can enter to disturb them, either by clustering together, or by a plaster composed of propolis. it consequently requires considerable management and ingenuity, even with the aid of a glass hive, to see them actually at work. m. huber employed a hive with leaves, which opened in the manner of a book; and for some purposes he used a glass box, inserted in the body of the hive, but easily brought into view by means of screws. but no invention hitherto contrived is sufficient to obviate every difficulty. the bees are so eager to afford mutual assistance, and for this purpose so many of them crowd together in rapid succession, that the operations of individuals can seldom be traced. though this crowding, however, appears to an observer to be not a little confused, it is all regulated with admirable order, as has been ascertained by réaumur and other distinguished naturalists. when bees begin to build the hive, they divide themselves into bands, one of which produces materials for the structure; another works upon these, and forms them into a rough sketch of the dimensions and partitions of the cells. all this is completed by the second band, who examine and adjust the angles, remove the superfluous wax, and give the work its necessary perfection; and a third band brings provisions to the labourers, who cannot leave their work. but no distribution of food is made to those whose charge, in collecting propolis and pollen, calls them to the field, because it is supposed they will hardly forget themselves; neither is any allowance made to those who begin the architecture of the cells. their province is very troublesome, because they are obliged to level and extend, as well as cut and adjust the wax to the dimensions required; but then they soon obtain a dismission from this labour, and retire to the fields to regale themselves with food, and wear off their fatigue with a more agreeable employment. those who succeed them, draw their mouth, their feet, and the extremity of their body, several times over all the work, and never desist till the whole is polished and completed; and as they frequently need refreshments, and yet are not permitted to retire, there are waiters always attending, who serve them with provisions when they require them. the labourer who has an appetite, bends down his trunk before the caterer to intimate that he has an inclination to eat, upon which the other opens his bag of honey, and pours out a few drops: these may be distinctly seen rolling through the hole of his trunk, which insensibly swells in every part the liquor flows through. when this little repast is over, the labourer returns to his work, and his body and feet repeat the same motions as before.[ao] before they can commence building, however, when a colony or swarm migrates from the original hive to a new situation, it is necessary first to collect propolis, with which every chink and cranny in the place where they mean to build may be carefully stopped up; and secondly, that a quantity of wax be secreted by the wax-workers to form the requisite cells. the secretion of wax, it would appear, goes on best when the bees are in a state of repose; and the wax-workers, accordingly, suspend themselves in the interior in an extended cluster, like the curtain which is composed of a series of intertwined festoons or garlands, crossing each other in all directions--the uppermost bee maintaining its position by laying hold of the roof with its fore legs, and the succeeding one by laying hold of the hind legs of the first. [illustration: curtain of wax-workers secreting wax.] "a person," says réaumur, "must have been born devoid of curiosity not to take interest in the investigation of such wonderful proceedings." yet réaumur himself seems not to have understood that the bees suspended themselves in this manner to secrete wax, but merely, as he imagined, to recruit themselves by rest for renewing their labours. the bees composing the festooned curtain are individually motionless; but this curtain is, notwithstanding, kept moving by the proceedings in the interior; for the nurse-bees never form any portion of it, and continue their activity--a distinction with which réaumur was unacquainted. although there are many thousand labourers in a hive, they do not commence foundations for combs in several places at once, but wait till an individual bee has selected a site, and laid the foundation of a comb, which serves as a directing mark for all that are to follow. were we not expressly told by so accurate an observer as huber, we might hesitate to believe that bees, though united in what appears to be an harmonious monarchy, are strangers to subordination, and subject to no discipline. hence it is, that though many bees work on the same comb, they do not appear to be guided by any simultaneous impulse. the stimulus which moves them is successive. an individual bee commences each operation, and several others successively apply themselves to accomplish the same purpose. each bee appears, therefore, to act individually, either as directed by the bees preceding it, or by the state of advancement in which it finds the work it has to proceed with. if there be anything like unanimous consent, it is the inaction of several thousand workers while a single individual proceeds to determine and lay down the foundation of the first comb. réaumur regrets that, though he could by snatches detect a bee at work in founding cells or perfecting their structure, his observations were generally interrupted by the crowding of other bees between him and the little builder. he was therefore compelled rather to infer the different steps of their procedure from an examination of the cells when completed, than from actual observation. the ingenuity of huber, even under all the disadvantages of blindness, succeeded in tracing the minutest operations of the workers from the first waxen plate of the foundation. we think the narrative of the discoverer's experiments, as given by himself, will be more interesting than any abstract of it which we could furnish:-"having taken a large bell-shaped glass receiver, we glued thin wooden slips to the arch at certain intervals, because the glass itself was too smooth to admit of the bees supporting themselves on it. a swarm, consisting of some thousand workers, several hundred males, and a fertile queen, was introduced, and they soon ascended to the top. those first gaining the slips fixed themselves there by the fore-feet; others, scrambling up the sides, joined them, by holding their legs with their own, and they thus formed a kind of chain, fastened by the two ends to the upper parts of the receiver, and served as ladders or a bridge to the workers enlarging their number. the latter were united in a cluster, hanging like an inverted pyramid from the top to the bottom of the hive. "the country then affording little honey, we provided the bees with syrup of sugar, in order to hasten their labour. they crowded to the edge of a vessel containing it; and, having satisfied themselves, returned to the group. we were now struck with the absolute repose of this hive, contrasted with the usual agitation of bees. meanwhile, the nurse-bees alone went to forage in the country; they returned with pollen, kept guard at the entrance of the hive, cleansed it, and stopped up its edges with propolis. the wax-workers remained motionless about fifteen hours: the curtain of bees, consisting always of the same individuals, assured us that none replaced them. some hours later, we remarked that almost all these individuals had wax scales under the rings; and next day this phenomenon was still more general. the bees forming the external layer of the cluster, having now somewhat altered their position, enabled us to see their bellies distinctly. by the projection of the wax scales, the rings seemed edged with white. the curtain of bees became rent in several places, and some commotion began to be observed in the hive. "convinced that the combs would originate in the centre of the swarm, our whole attention was then directed towards the roof of the glass. a worker at this time detached itself from one of the central festoons of the cluster, separated itself from the crowd, and, with its head, drove away the bees at the beginning of the row in the middle of the arch, turning round to form a space an inch or more in diameter, in which it might move freely. it then fixed itself in the centre of the space thus cleared. [illustration: wax-worker laying the foundation of the first cell.] "the worker now employing the pincers at the joint of one of the third pair of its limbs, seized a scale of wax projecting from a ring, and brought it forward to its mouth with the claws of its fore-legs, where it appeared in a vertical position. we remarked that, with its claws, it turned the wax in every necessary direction; that the edge of the scale was immediately broken down, and the fragments having been accumulated in the hollow of the mandibles, issued forth like a very narrow ribbon, impregnated with a frothy liquid by the tongue. the tongue itself assumed the most varied shapes, and executed the most complicated operations,--being sometimes flattened like a trowel, and at other times pointed like a pencil; and, after imbuing the whole substance of the ribbon, pushed it forward again into the mandibles, whence it was drawn out a second time, but in an opposite direction. [illustration: curtain of wax-workers (see p. 132).] "at length the bee applied these particles of wax to the vault of the hive, where the saliva impregnating them promoted their adhesion, and also communicated a whiteness and opacity which were wanting when the scales were detached from the rings. doubtless this process was to give the wax that ductility and tenacity belonging to its perfect state. the bee then separated those portions not yet applied to use with its mandibles, and with the same organs afterwards arranged them at pleasure. the founder bee, a name appropriated to this worker, repeated the same operation, until all the fragments, worked up and impregnated with the fluid, were attached to the vault, when it repeated the preceding operations on the part of the scale yet kept apart, and again united to the rest what was obtained from it. a second and third scale were similarly treated by the same bee; yet the work was only sketched; for the worker did nothing but accumulate the particles of wax together. meanwhile the founder, quitting its position, disappeared amidst its companions. another, with wax under the rings, succeeded it, which suspending itself to the same spot, withdrew a scale by the pincers of the hind legs, and passing it through its mandibles, prosecuted the work; and taking care to make its deposit in a line with the former, it united their extremities. a third worker, detaching itself from the interior of the cluster, now came and reduced some of the scales to paste, and put them near the materials accumulated by its companions, but not in a straight line. another bee, apparently sensible of the defect, removed the misplaced wax before our eyes, and carrying it to the former heap, deposited it there, exactly in the order and direction pointed out. "from all these operations was produced a block of a rugged surface, hanging down from the arch, without any perceptible angle, or any traces of cells. it was a simple wall, or ridge, running in a straight line, and without the least inflection, two-thirds of an inch in length, above two-thirds of a cell, or two lines, high, and declining towards the extremities. we have seen other foundation walls from an inch to an inch and a half long, the form being always the same; but none ever of greater height. "the vacuity in the centre of the cluster had permitted us to discover the first manoeuvres of the bees, and the art with which they laid the foundations of their edifices. however, it was filled up too soon for our satisfaction; for workers collecting on both faces of the wall obstructed our view of their further operations."[ap] _chapter vi._ architecture of the hive-bee continued--form of the cells. the obstruction of which m. huber complains only operated as a stimulus to his ingenuity in contriving how he might continue his interesting observations. from the time of pappus to the present day, mathematicians have applied the principles of geometry to explain the construction of the cells of a bee-hive; but though their extraordinary regularity, and wonderfully-selected form, had so often been investigated by men of the greatest talent, and skilled in all the refinements of science, the process by which they are constructed, involving also the causes of their regularity of form, had not been traced till m. huber devoted himself to the inquiry. as the wax-workers secrete only a limited quantity of wax, it is indispensably requisite that as little as possible of it should be consumed, and that none of it should be wasted. bees, therefore, as m. réaumur well remarks,[aq] have to solve this difficult geometrical problem:--a quantity of wax being given, to form of it similar and equal cells of a determinate capacity, but of the largest size in proportion to the quantity of matter employed, and disposed in such a manner as to occupy the least possible space in the hive. this problem is solved by bees in all its conditions. the cylindrical form would seem to be best adapted to the shape of the insect; but had the cells been cylindrical, they could not have been applied to each other without leaving a vacant and superfluous space between every three contiguous cells. had the cells, on the other hand, been square or triangular, they might have been constructed without unnecessary vacancies; but these forms would have both required more material, and have been very unsuitable to the shape of a bee's body. the six-sided form of the cells obviates every objection; and while it fulfils the conditions of the problem, it is equally adapted with a cylinder to the shape of the bee. m. réaumur further remarks, that the base of each cell, instead of forming a plane, is usually composed of three pieces in the shape of the diamonds on playing cards, and placed in such a manner as to form a hollow pyramid. this structure, it may be observed, imparts a greater degree of strength, and, still keeping the solution of the problem in view, gives a great capacity with the smallest expenditure of material. this has actually, indeed, been ascertained by mathematical measurement and calculation. maraldi, the inventor of glass hives, determined, by minutely measuring these angles, that the greater were 109° 28', and the smaller 70° 32'; and m. réaumur, being desirous to know why these particular angles are selected, requested m. koenig, a skilful mathematician (without informing him of his design, or telling him of maraldi's researches), to determine by calculation what ought to be the angle of a six-sided cell, with a concave pyramidal base, formed of three similar and equal rhomboid plates, so that the least possible matter should enter into its construction. by employing what geometricians denominate the _infinitesimal calculus_, m. koenig found that the angles should be 109° 26' for the greater, and 70° 34' for the smaller, or about two-sixtieths of a degree, more or less, than the actual angles made choice of by bees. the equality of inclination in the angles has also been said to facilitate the construction of the cells. m. huber adds to these remarks, that the cells of the first row, by which the whole comb is attached to the roof of a hive, are not like the rest; for, instead of six sides, they have only five, of which the roof forms one. the base, also, is in these different, consisting of three pieces on the face of the comb, and on the other side of two: one of these only is diamond-shaped, while the other two are of an irregular four-sided figure. this arrangement, by bringing the greatest number of points in contact with the interior surface, insures the stability of the comb. [illustration: arrangement of cells.] it may, however, be said not to be quite certain, that réaumur and others have not ascribed to bees the merit of ingenious mathematical contrivance and selection, when the construction of the cells may more probably originate in the form of their mandibles and the other instruments employed in their operations. in the case of other insects, we have, both in the preceding and subsequent pages of this volume, repeatedly noticed, that they use their bodies, or parts thereof, as the standards of measurement and modelling; and it is not impossible that bees may proceed on a similar principle. m. huber replies to this objection, that bees are not provided with instruments corresponding to the angles of their cells; for there is no more resemblance between these and the form of their mandibles, than between the chisel of the sculptor and the work which he produces. the head, he thinks, does not furnish any better explanation. he admits that the antennæ are very flexible, so as to enable the insects to follow the outline of every object; but concludes that neither their structure, nor that of the limbs and mandibles, are adequate to explain the form of the cells, though all these are employed in the operations of building,--the effect, according to him, depending entirely on the object which the insect proposes. we shall now follow m. huber in the experiments which he contrived, in order to observe the operations of the bees subsequent to their laying a foundation for the first cell; and we shall again quote from his own narrative:-"it appeared to me," he says, "that the only method of isolating the architects, and bringing them individually into view, would be to induce them to change the direction of their operations and work upwards. "i had a box made twelve inches square and nine deep, with a moveable glass lid. combs, full of brood, honey, and pollen, were next selected from one of my leaf-hives, as containing what might interest the bees, and being cut into pieces a foot long, and four inches deep, they were arranged vertically at the bottom of the box, at the same intervals as the insects themselves usually leave between them. a small slip of wooden lath covered the upper edge of each. it was not probable that the bees would attempt to found new combs on the glass roof of the box, because its smoothness precluded the swarm from adhering to it; therefore, if disposed to build, they could do so over the slips resting on the combs, which left a vacuity five inches high above them. as we had foreseen, the swarm with which this box was peopled established itself among the combs below. we then observed the nurse-bees displaying their natural activity. they dispersed themselves throughout the hive, to feed the young grubs, to clear out their lodgment, and adapt it for their convenience. certainly, the combs, which were roughly cut to fit the bottom of the box, and in some parts damaged, appeared to them shapeless and misplaced; for they speedily commenced their reparation. they beat down the old wax, kneaded it between their teeth, and thus formed binding materials to consolidate them. we were astonished beyond expression by such a multitude of workers employed at once in labours to which it did not appear they should have been called, at their coincidence, their zeal, and their prudence. "but it was still more wonderful, that about half the numerous population took no part in the proceedings, remaining motionless, while the others fulfilled the functions required. the wax-workers, in a state of absolute repose, recalled our former observations. gorged with the honey we had put within their reach, and continuing in this condition during twenty-four hours, wax was formed under their rings, and was now ready to be put in operation. to our great satisfaction, we soon saw a little foundation-wall rising on one of the slips that we had prepared to receive the superstructure. no obstacle was offered to the progress of our observations; and for the second time we beheld both the undertaking of the founder-bee, and the successive labours of several wax-workers, in forming the foundation-wall. would that my readers could share the interest which the view of these architects inspired! "this foundation, originally very small, was enlarged as the work required; while they excavated on one side a hollow, of about the width of a common cell, and on the opposite surface two others somewhat more elongated. the middle of the single cell corresponded exactly to the partition separating the latter: the arches of these excavations, projecting by the accumulation of wax, were converted into ridges in a straight line; whence the cells of the first row were composed of five sides, considering the slip as one side, and those of the second row, of six sides. [illustration: foundation-wall enlarged, and the cells commenced.] "the interior conformation of the cavities, apparently, was derived from the position of their respective outlines. it seemed that the bees, endowed with an admirable delicacy of feeling, directed their teeth principally to the place where the wax was thickest; that is, the parts where other workers on the opposite side had accumulated it; and this explains why the bottom of the cell is excavated in an angular direction behind the projection on the sides of which the sides of the corresponding cells are to rise. the largest of the excavations, which was opposite to three others, was divided into three parts, while the excavations of the first row on the other face, applied against this one, were composed of only two. "in consequence of the manner in which the excavations were opposed to each other, those of the second row, and all subsequent, partially applied to three cavities, were composed of three equal diamond-shaped lozenges. i may here remark, that each part of the labour of bees appears the natural result of what has preceded it: therefore, chance has no share in these admirable combinations. "a foundation-wall rose above the slip like a minute vertical partition, five or six lines long, two lines high, but only half a line in thickness; the edge circular, and the surface rough. quitting the cluster among the combs, a nurse-bee mounted the slip, turned around the block, and visiting both sides, began to work actively in the middle. it removed as much wax with its teeth as might equal the diameter of a common cell; and after kneading and moistening the particles, deposited them on the edge of the excavation. this insect having laboured some seconds, retired, and was soon replaced by another; a third continued the work, raising the margin of the edges, now projecting from the cavity, and with assistance of its teeth and feet fixing the particles, so as to give these edges a straighter form. more than twenty bees successively participated in the same work; and when the cavity was little above a line and a half in height, though equalling a cell in width, a bee left the swarm, and after encircling the block, commenced its operations on the opposite face, where yet untouched. but its teeth acting only on one half of this side, the hollow which it formed was opposite to only one of the slight prominences bordering the first cavity. nearly at the same time another worker began on the right of the face that had been untouched, wherein both were occupied in forming cavities which may be designed the second and third; and they also were replaced by substitutes. these two latter cavities were separated only by the common margin, framed of particles of wax withdrawn from them; which margin corresponded with the centre of the cavity on the opposite surface. the foundation-wall itself was still of insufficient dimensions to admit the full diameter of a cell: but while the excavations were deepened, wax-workers, extracting their scales of wax, applied them in enlarging its circumference; so that it rose nearly two lines further around the circular arch. the nurse-bees, which appeared more especially charged with sculpturing the cells, being then enabled to continue their outlines, prolonged the cavities, and heightened their margins on the new addition of wax. "the arch, formed by the edge of each of these cavities, was next divided as by two equal chords, in the line of which the bees formed stages or projecting borders, or margins meeting at an obtuse angle: the cavities now had four margins, two lateral and perpendicular to the supporting slip, and two oblique, which were shorter. "meantime, it became more difficult to follow the operations of the bees, from their frequently interposing their heads between the eye of the observer and the bottom of the cell; but the partition, whereon their teeth laboured, had become so transparent as to expose what passed on the other side. "the cavities of which we speak formed the bottom of the first three cells; and while the bees engaged were advancing them to perfection, other workers commenced sketching a second row of cells above the first, and partly behind those in front--for, in general, their labour proceeds by combination. we cannot say, 'when bees have finished this cell, they will begin new ones;' but, 'while particular workers advance a certain portion, we are certain that others will carry on the adjacent cells.' further, the work begun on one face of the comb is already the commencement of that which is to follow on the reverse. all this depends on a reciprocal relation, or a mutual connexion of the parts, rendering the whole subservient to each other. it is undoubted, therefore, that slight irregularities on the front will affect the form of the cells on the back of the comb."[ar] when they have in this manner worked the bottoms of the first row of cells into the required forms, some of the nurse-bees finish them by imparting a sort of polish, while others proceed to cut out the rudiments of a second row from a fresh wall of wax which has been built in the meanwhile by the wax-workers, and also on the opposite side of this wall; for a comb of cells is always double, being arranged in two layers, placed end to end. the cells of this second row are engrafted on the borders of cavities hollowed out in the wall, being founded by the nurse-bees, bringing the contour of all the bottoms, which is at first unequal, to the same level; and this level is kept uniform in the margins of the cells till they are completed. at first sight nothing appears more simple than adding wax to the margins; but from the inequalities occasioned by the shape of the bottom, the bees must accumulate wax on the depressions, in order to bring them to a level. it follows accordingly that the surface of a new comb is not quite flat, there being a progressive slope produced as the work proceeds, and the comb being therefore in the form of a lens, the thickness decreasing towards the edge, and the last-formed cells being shallower or shorter than those preceding them. so long as there is room for the enlargement of the comb, this thinning of its edge may be remarked; but as soon as the space within the hive prevents its enlargement, the cells are made equal, and two flat and level surfaces are produced. m. huber observed, that while sketching the bottom of a cell, before there was any upright margin on the reverse, their pressure on the still soft and flexible wax gave rise to a projection, which sometimes caused a breach of the partition. this, however, was soon repaired, but a slight prominence always remained on the opposite surface, to the right and left of which they placed themselves to begin a new excavation; and they heaped up part of the materials between the two flutings formed by their labour. the ridge thus formed becomes a guide to the direction which the bees are to follow for their vertical furrow of the front cell. we have already seen that the first cell determines the place of all that succeed it, and two of these are never, in ordinary circumstances, begun in different parts of the hive at the same time, as is alleged by some early writers. when some rows of cells, however, have been completed in the first comb, two other foundation-walls are begun, one on each side of it, at the exact distance of one-third of an inch, which is sufficient to allow two bees employed on the opposite cells to pass each other without jostling. these new walls are also parallel to the former; and two more are afterwards begun exterior to the second, and at the same parallel distance. the combs are uniformly enlarged, and lengthened in a progression proportioned to the priority of their origin; the middle comb being always advanced beyond the two adjoining ones by several rows of cells, and these again beyond the ones exterior to them. did the bees lay the foundations of all their combs at the same time, they would not find it easy to preserve parallelism and an equality in their distances. it may be remarked further, that beside the vacancies of half an inch between the cells, which form what we call the highways of the community, the combs are pierced in several places with holes which serve as postern-gates for easy communication from one to another, to prevent loss of time in going round. the equal distance between the combs is of more importance to the welfare of the hive than might at first appear; for were they too distant, the bees would be so scattered and dispersed, that they could not reciprocally communicate the heat indispensable for hatching the eggs and rearing the young. if the combs, on the other hand, were closer, the bees could not traverse the intervals with the freedom necessary to facilitate the work of the hive. on the approach of winter, they sometimes elongate the cells which contain honey, and thus contract the intervals between the combs. but this expedient is in preparation for a season when it is important to have copious magazines, and when, their activity being relaxed, it is unnecessary for their communications to be so spacious and free. on the return of spring, the bees hasten to contract the elongated cells, that they may become fit for receiving the eggs which the queen is about to deposit, and in this manner they re-establish the regular distance.[as] we are indebted to the late dr. barclay of edinburgh, well known as an excellent anatomist, for the discovery that each cell in a honeycomb is not simply composed of one wall, but consists of two. we shall give the account of his discovery in his own words:-"having inquired of several naturalists whether or not they knew any author who had mentioned that the partitions between the cells of the honeycomb were double, and whether or not they had ever remarked such a structure themselves, and they having answered in the negative, i now take the liberty of presenting to the society pieces of honeycomb, in which the young bees had been reared, upon breaking which, it will be clearly seen that the partitions between different cells, at the sides and the base, are all _double_; or, in other words, that each cell is a distinct, separate, and in some measure an independent structure, agglutinated only to the neighbouring cells; and that when the agglutinating substance is destroyed, each cell may be entirely separated from the rest. "i have also some specimens of the cells formed by wasps, which show that the partitions between them are also double, and that the agglutinating substance between them is more easily destroyed than that between the cells of the bee."[at] irregularities in their workmanship. though bees, however, work with great uniformity when circumstances favour their operations, they may be compelled to vary their proceedings. m. huber made several ingenious experiments of this kind. the following, mentioned by dr. bevan, was accidental, and occurred to his friend mr. walond. "inspecting his bee-boxes at the end of october, 1817, he perceived that a centre comb, burthened with honey, had separated from its attachments, and was leaning against another comb so as to prevent the passage of the bees between them. this accident excited great activity in the colony; but its nature could not be ascertained at the time. at the end of a week, the weather being cold, and the bees clustered together mr. walond observed, through the window of the box, that they had constructed two horizontal pillars betwixt the combs alluded to, and had removed so much of the honey and wax from the top of each as to allow the passage of a bee: in about ten days more there was an uninterrupted thoroughfare; the detached comb at its upper part had been secured by a strong barrier, and fastened to the window with the spare wax. this being accomplished, the bees removed the horizontal pillars first constructed, as being of no further use."[au] a similar anecdote is told by m. huber. "during the winter," says he, "a comb in one of my bell-glass hives, having been originally insecure, fell down, but preserved its position parallel to the rest. the bees were unable to fill up the vacuity left above it, because they do not build combs of old wax, and none new could be then obtained. at a more favourable season they would have engrafted a new comb on the old one; but now their provision of honey could not be spared for the elaboration of this substance, which induced them to insure the stability of the comb by another process. "crowds of bees taking wax from the lower part of other combs, and even gnawing it from the surface of the orifices of the deepest cells, they constructed so many irregular pillars, joists, or buttresses, between the sides of the fallen comb, and others on the glass of the hive. all these were artificially adapted to localities. neither did they confine themselves to repairing the accidents which their works had sustained. they seemed to profit by the warning to guard against a similar casualty. "the remaining combs were not displaced; therefore, while solidly adhering by the base, we were greatly surprised to see the bees strengthen their principal fixtures with old wax. they rendered them much thicker than before, and fabricated a number of new connections, to unite them more firmly to each other and to the sides of their dwelling. all this passed in the middle of january, a time that these insects commonly keep in the upper part of their hive, and when work is no longer seasonable."[av] m. huber the younger shrewdly remarks, that the tendency to symmetry observable in the architecture of bees does not hold so much in small details as in the whole work, because they are sometimes obliged to adapt themselves to particular localities. one irregularity leads on to another, and it commonly arises from mere accident, or from design on the part of the proprietor of the bees. by allowing, for instance, too little interval between the spars for receiving the foundation of the combs, the structure has been continued in a particular direction. the bees did not at first appear to be sensible of the defect, though they afterwards began to suspect their error, and were then observed to change their line of work till they gained the customary distance. the cells having been by this change of direction in some degree curved, the new ones which were commenced on each side of it, by being built everywhere parallel to it, partook of the same curvature. but the bees did not relish such approaches to the "line of beauty," and exerted themselves to bring their buildings again into the regular form. in consequence of several irregularities which they wished to correct, the younger huber has seen bees depart from their usual practice, and at once lay on a spar two foundation-walls not in the same line. they could consequently neither be enlarged without obstructing both, nor from their position could the edges unite, had they been prolonged. the little architects, however, had recourse to a very ingenious contrivance: they curved the edges of the two combs, and brought them to unite so neatly that they could be both prolonged in the same line with ease; and when carried to some little distance, their surface became quite uniform and level. "having seen bees," says the elder huber, "work both up and down, i wished to try to investigate whether we could compel them to construct their combs in any other direction. we endeavoured to puzzle them with a hive glazed above and below, so that they had no place of support but the upright sides of their dwelling; but, betaking themselves to the upper angle, they built combs perpendicular to one of these sides, and as regularly as those which they usually build under a horizontal surface. the foundations were laid on a place which does not serve naturally for the base, yet, except in the difference of direction, the first row of cells resembled those in ordinary hives, the others being distributed on both faces, while the bottoms alternately corresponded with the same symmetry. i put the bees to a still greater trial. as they now testified their inclination to carry their combs, by the shortest way, to the opposite side of the hive (for they prefer uniting them to wood, or a surface rougher than glass), i covered it with a pane. whenever this smooth and slippery substance was interposed between them and the wood, they departed from the straight line hitherto followed, and bent the structure of their comb at a right angle to what was already made, so that the prolongation of the extremity might reach another side of the hive, which had been left free. "varying this experiment in several ways, i saw the bees constantly change the direction of their combs, when i presented to them a surface too smooth to admit of their clustering on it. they always sought the wooden sides. i thus compelled them to curve the combs in the strangest shapes, by placing a pane at a certain distance from their edges. these results indicate a degree of instinct truly wonderful. they denote even more than instinct: for glass is not a substance against which bees can be warned by nature. in trees, their natural abode, there is nothing that resembles it, or with the same polish. the most singular part of their proceeding is changing the direction of the work before arriving at the surface of the glass, and while yet at a distance suitable for doing so. do they anticipate the inconvenience which would attend any other mode of building? no less curious is the plan adopted by the bee for producing an angle in the combs: the wonted fashion of their work, and the dimensions of the cells, must be altered. therefore, the cells on the upper or convex side of the combs are enlarged; they are constructed of three or four times the width of those on the opposite surface. how can so many insects, occupied at once on the edges of the combs, concur in giving them a common curvature from one extremity to the other? how do they resolve on establishing cells so small on one side, while dimensions so enlarged are bestowed on those of the other? and is it not still more singular, that they have the art of making a correspondence between cells of such reciprocal discrepance? the bottom being common to both, the tubes alone assume a taper form. perhaps no other insect has afforded a more decisive proof of the resources of instinct, when compelled to deviate from the ordinary course. "but let us study them in their natural state, and there we shall find that the diameter of their cells must be adapted to the individuals which shall be bred in them. the cells of males have the same figure, the same number of lozenges and sides, as those of workers, and angles of the same size. their diameter is 3-1/3 lines, while those of workers are only 2-2/5. "it is rarely that the cells of males occupy the higher part of the combs. they are generally in the middle or on the sides, where they are not isolated. the manner in which they are surrounded by other cells alone can explain how the transition in size is effected. when the cells of males are to be fabricated under those of workers, the bees make several rows of intermediate cells, whose diameter augments progressively, until gaining that proportion proper to the cells required; and in returning to those of workers, a lowering is observed in a manner corresponding. "bees, in preparing the cells of males, previously establish a block or lump of wax on the edge of their comb, thicker than is usually employed for those of workers. it is also made higher, otherwise the same order and symmetry could not be preserved on a larger scale. "several naturalists notice the irregularities in the cells of bees as so many defects. what would have been their astonishment had they observed that part of them are the result of calculation? had they followed the imperfection of their organs, some other means of compensating them would have been granted to the insects. it is much more surprising that they know how to quit the ordinary route, when circumstances demand the construction of enlarged cells; and, after building thirty or forty rows of them, to return to the proper proportions from which they have departed by successive reductions. bees also augment the dimensions of their cells when there is an opportunity for a great collection of honey. not only are they then constructed of a diameter much exceeding that of the common cells, but they are elongated throughout the whole space admitting it. a great portion of irregular comb contains cells an inch, or even an inch and a half, in depth. "bees, on the contrary, sometimes are induced to shorten their cells. when wishing to prolong an old comb, whose cells have received their full dimensions, they gradually reduce the thickness of its edges, by gnawing down the sides of the cells, until they restore it to its original lenticular form. they add a waxen block around the whole circumference, and on the edge of the comb construct pyramidal bottoms, such as those fabricated on ordinary occasions. it is a certain fact, that a comb never is extended in any direction unless the bees have thinned the edges, which are diminished throughout a sufficient space to remove any angular projection. "the law which obliges these insects partly to demolish the cells on the edges of the comb before enlarging it, unquestionably demands more profound investigation. how can we account for instinct leading them to undo what they have executed with the utmost care? the wonted regular gradation which may be necessary for new cells, subsists among those adjoining the edges of a comb recently constructed. but afterwards, when those on the edge are deepened like the cells of the rest of the surface, the bees no longer preserve the decreasing gradation which is seen in the new combs."[aw] the finishing of the cells. while the cells are building they appear to be of a dull white colour, soft, even, though not smooth, and translucent; but in a few days they become tinged with yellow, particularly on the interior surface; and their edges, from being thin, uniform, and yielding, become thicker, less regular, more heavy, and so firm that they will bend rather than break. new combs break on the slightest touch. there is also a glutinous substance observable around the orifices of the yellow cells, of reddish colour, unctuous, and odoriferous. threads of the same substance are applied all around the interior of the cells, and at the summit of their angles, as if it were for the purpose of binding and strengthening the walls. these yellow cells also require a much higher temperature of water to melt them than the white ones. it appeared evident, therefore, that another substance, different from wax, had been employed in varnishing the orifices, and strengthening the interior of the cells. m. huber, by numerous experiments, ascertained the resinous threads lining the cells, as well as the resinous substance around their orifice, to be propolis; for he traced them, as we mentioned in our account of propolis, from the poplar buds where they collected it, and saw them apply it to the cells; but the yellow colour is not imparted by propolis, to which it bears no analogy. we are, indeed, by no means certain what it is, though it was proved by experiment not to arise from the heat of the hives, nor from emanations of honey, nor from particles of pollen. perhaps it may be ascribed to the bees rubbing their teeth, feet, and other parts of their body, on the surfaces where they seem to rest; or to their tongue (haustellum) sweeping from right to left like a fine pliant pencil, when it appears to leave some sprinkling of a transparent liquid. besides painting and varnishing their cells in this manner, they take care to strengthen the weaker part of their edifice by means of a mortar composed of propolis and wax, and named _pissoceros_[ax] by the ancients who first observed it, though réaumur was somewhat doubtful respecting the existence of such a composition. we are indebted to the shrewd observations of huber for a reconcilement of the roman and the french naturalists. the details which he has given of his discovery are perhaps the most interesting in his delightful book. "soon," he says, "after some new combs had been finished in a hive, manifest disorder and agitation prevailed among the bees. they seemed to attack their own works. the primitive cells, whose structure we had admired, were scarcely recognizable. thick and massive walls, heavy, shapeless pillars, were substituted for the slight partitions previously built with such regularity. the substance had changed along with the form, being composed apparently of wax and propolis. from the perseverance of the workers in their devastation, we suspected that they proposed some useful alteration of their edifices; and our attention was directed to the cells least injured. several were yet untouched; but the bees soon rushed precipitately on them, destroyed the tubes, broke down the wax, and threw all the fragments about. but we remarked that the bottom of the cells of the first row were spared; neither were the corresponding parts on both faces of the comb demolished at the same time. the bees laboured at them alternately, leaving some of the natural supports, otherwise the comb would have fallen down, which was not their object: they wished, on the contrary, to provide it a more solid base, and to secure its union to the vault of the hive, with a substance whose adhesive properties infinitely surpassed those of wax. the propolis employed on this occasion had been deposited in a mass over a cleft of the hive, and had hardened in drying, which probably rendered it more suitable for the purpose. but the bees experienced some difficulty in making any impression on it; and we thought, as also had appeared to m. de réaumur, that they softened it with the same frothy matter from the tongue which they use to render wax more ductile. "we very distinctly observed the bees mixing fragments of old wax with the propolis, kneading the two substances together to incorporate them; and the compound was employed in rebuilding the cells that had been destroyed. but they did not now follow their ordinary rules of architecture, for they were occupied by the solidity of their edifices alone. night intervening, suspended our observations, but next morning confirmed what we had seen. "we find, therefore, that there is an epoch in the labour of bees, when the upper foundation of their combs is constructed simply of wax, as réaumur believed; and that, after all the requisite conditions have been attained, it is converted to a mixture of wax and propolis, as remarked by pliny so many ages before us. thus is the apparent contradiction between these two great naturalists explained. but this is not the utmost extent of the foresight of these insects. when they have plenty of wax, they make their combs the full breadth of the hive, and solder them to the glass or wooden sides, by structures more or less approaching the form of cells, as circumstances admit. but should the supply of wax fail before they have been able to give sufficient diameter to the combs whose edges are rounded, large intervals remain between them and the upright sides of the hive, and they are fixed only at the top. therefore, did not the bees provide against it, by constructing great pieces of wax mixed with propolis, in the intervals, they might be borne down by the weight of the honey. these pieces are of irregular shape, strangely hollowed out, and their cavities void of symmetry."[ay] it is remarked by the lively abbé la pluche, that the foundations of our houses sink with the earth on which they are built, the walls begin to stoop by degrees, they nod with age, and bend from their perpendicular;--lodgers damage everything, and time is continually introducing some new decay. the mansions of the bees, on the contrary, grow stronger the oftener they change inhabitants. every bee-grub, before its metamorphosis into a nymph, fastens its skin to the partitions of its cell, but in such a manner as to make it correspond with the lines of the angle, and without in the least disturbing the regularity of the figure. during summer, accordingly, the same lodging may serve for three or four grubs in succession; and in the ensuing season it may accommodate an equal number. each grub never fails to fortify the panels of its chamber by arraying them with its spoils, and the contiguous cells receive a similar augmentation from its brethren.[az] réaumur found as many as seven or eight of these skins spread over one another: so that all the cells being incrusted with six or seven coverings, well dried and cemented with propolis, the whole fabric daily acquires a new degree of solidity. it is obvious, however, that by a repetition of this process the cell might be rendered too contracted; but in such a case the bees know well how to proceed, by turning the cells to other uses, such as magazines for bee-bread and honey. it has been remarked, however, that in the hive of a new swarm, during the months of july and august, there are fewer small bees or nurse-bees than in one that has been tenanted four or five years. the workers, indeed, clean out the cell the moment that a young bee leaves its cocoon, but they never detach the silky film which it has previously spun on the walls of its cell. but though honey is deposited after the young leave the cells, the reverse also happens; and accordingly, when bees are bred in contracted cells, they are by necessity smaller, and constitute, in fact, the important class of nurse-bees. we are not disposed, however, to go quite so far as an american periodical writer, who says, "thus we see that the contraction of the cell may diminish the size of a bee, _even to the extinction of life_, just as the contraction of a chinese shoe reduces the foot even to uselessness."[ba] we know, on the contrary, that the queen-bee will not deposit eggs in a cell either too small or too large for the proper rearing of the young. in the case of large cells, m. huber took advantage of a queen that was busy depositing the eggs of workers to remove all the common cells adapted for their reception, and left only the larger cells appropriated for males. as this was done in june, when bees are most active, he expected that they would have immediately repaired the breaches he had made; but to his great surprise they did not make the slightest movement for that purpose. in the meanwhile the queen, being oppressed by her eggs, was obliged to drop them about at random, preferring this to depositing them in the male cells, which she knew to be too large. at length she did deposit six eggs in the large cells, which were hatched as usual three days after. the nurse-bees, however, seemed to be aware that they could not be reared there, and though they supplied them with food, did not attend to them regularly. m. huber found that they had been all removed from the cells during the night, and the business both of laying and nursing was at a complete stand for twelve days, when he supplied them again with a comb of small cells, which the queen almost immediately filled with eggs, and in some cells she laid five or six. [illustration] [the accompanying illustration exhibits these three kinds of bees, namely, the queen, the drone, and the worker, together with the cells which they respectively inhabit. fig. 1 shows the queen-bee as she appears when in command of a hive. when she first issues from the royal cell, she is much smaller in the body, and an inexperienced observer might have some difficulty in distinguishing her from an ordinary worker. but any one who has been accustomed to bees can pick her out as soon as his eyes rest upon her. her body is rather larger and narrower than those of the workers, and the wings are shorter in proportion, slightly crossing at the tips when she is at rest. fig. 2 represents the common worker-bee, which, as has already been mentioned, is simply an undeveloped female. fig. 3 is the male or drone-bee, which is easily distinguishable, even by a novice. he is larger, stouter, and heavier built than the female; his eyes are so enormous that they seem to occupy nearly the entire head, and he has some well-defined tufts of hair on the end of the abdomen. he can even be detected by the ear, as he flies, the deep droning hum being quite unlike the fussy, business-like sound produced by the worker. fig. 4 represents one of the royal cells, a little reduced in size. in making this cell, the bees lose sight of their habitual economy of wax, and use enough material for fifty ordinary cells. it is probable that the great size of the cell enables the inclosed insect to expand, and so to be capable of becoming the mother as well as the ruler of her subjects. the royal cell is always placed at the edge of a comb, so as not to interfere with the other cells, which contain honey, bee-bread, and grubs; and in each hive there are generally several of these cells in different stages of structure. figs. 5 and 6 represent the proportionate sizes of the cells which contain the drone and worker bees.] * * * * * the architecture of the hive, which we have thus detailed, is that of bees receiving the aid of human care, and having external coverings of a convenient form, prepared for their reception. in this country bees are not found in a wild state; though it is not uncommon for swarms to stray from their proprietors. but these stray swarms do not spread colonies through our woods, as they are said to do in america. in the remoter parts of that continent there are no wild bees. they precede civilization; and thus when the indians observe a swarm they say, "the white man is coming." there is evidence of bees having abounded in these islands, in the earlier periods of our history; and ireland is particularly mentioned by the venerable bede as being "rich in milk and honey."[bb] the hive-bee has formed an object of economical culture in europe at least for two thousand years; and varro describes the sort of hives used in his time, 1870 years ago. we are not aware, however, that it is now to be found wild in the milder clime of southern europe, any more than it is in our own island. the wild bees of palestine principally hived in rocks. "he made him," says moses, "to suck honey out of the rock."[bc] "with honey out of the rock," says the psalmist, "should i have satisfied thee."[bd] in the caves of salsette and elephanta, at the present day, they hive in the clefts of the rocks, and the recesses among the fissures, in such numbers as to become very troublesome to visitors. their nests hang in innumerable clusters.[be] we are told of a little black stingless bee found in the island of guadaloupe, which hives in hollow trees or in the cavities of rocks by the sea-side, and lays "up honey in cells about the size and shape of pigeons' eggs. these cells are of a black or deep-violet colour, and so joined together as to leave no space between them. they hang in clusters almost like a bunch of grapes."[bf] the following are mentioned by lindley as indigenous to brazil. "on an excursion towards upper tapagippe," says he, "and skirting the dreary woods which extend to the interior, i observed the trees more loaded with bees' nests than even in the neighbourhood of porto seguro. they consist of a ponderous shell of clay, cemented similarly to martins' nests, swelling from high trees about a foot thick, and forming an oval mass full two feet in diameter. when broken, the wax is arranged as in our hives, and the honey abundant."[bg] captain basil hall found in south america the hive of a honey-bee very different from the brazilian, but nearly allied to, if not the same as, that of guadaloupe. "the hive we saw opened," he says, "was only partly filled, which enabled us to see the economy of the interior to more advantage. the honey is not contained in the elegant hexagonal cells of our hives, but in wax bags, not quite so large as an egg. these bags or bladders are hung round the sides of the hive, and appear about half full; the quantity being probably just as great as the strength of the wax will bear without tearing. those near the bottom, being better supported, are more filled than the upper ones. in the centre of the lower part of the hive we observed an irregularly-shaped mass of comb, furnished with cells like those of our bees, all containing young ones in such an advanced state, that, when we broke the comb, and let them out, they flew merrily away." clavigero, in his 'history of mexico,' evidently describing the same species of bee, says it abounds in yucatan, and makes the honey of estabentum, the finest in the world, and which is taken every two months. he mentioned another species of bee, smaller in size, and also without a sting, which forms its nest of the shape of a sugar-loaf, and as large or larger. these are suspended from trees, particularly from the oak, and are much more populous than our common hives. wild honey-bees of some species appear also to abound in africa. mr. park, in his second volume of travels, tells us that some of his associates imprudently attempted to rob a numerous hive of its honey, when the exasperated bees, rushing out to defend their property, attacked their assailants with great fury, and quickly compelled the whole company to fly. at the cape of good hope the bees themselves must be less formidable, or more easily managed, as their hives are sought for with avidity. nature has there provided man with a singular and very efficient assistant in a bird, most appropriately named the honey-guide (_indicator major_, veillot; _cuculus indicator_, latham). the honey-guide, it is said, so far from being alarmed at the presence of man, appears anxious to court his acquaintance, and flits from tree to tree with an expressive note of invitation, the meaning of which is both well known to the colonists and the hottentots. a person thus invited by the honey-guide seldom refuses to follow it onward till it stops, as it is certain to do, at some hollow tree containing a bee-hive, usually well stored with honey and wax. it may be that the bird finds itself inadequate to the attack of a legion of bees, or to penetrate into the interior of the hive, and is thence led to invite an agent more powerful than itself. the person invited, indeed, always leaves the bird a share of the spoil, as it would be considered sacrilege to rob it of its due, or in any way to injure so sacred a bird. useful, however, as is the honey-guide, it must always be carefully watched, and the traveller must not follow it without keeping his eyes well open. for although, as a general fact, the bird will lead its followers to honey, it has a strange habit of leading them to the spot where lies hidden some dangerous animal. sometimes it brings them to a rhinoceros, wallowing in a mud pool. sometimes it directs them to a solitary buffalo, one of the most dangerous animals that southern africa produces, and one which the natives fear but little less than the lion itself. and more than once the too-confiding traveller has followed the honey-guide, and been led to a spot where was lying one of the venomous serpents. the americans, who have not the african honey-guide, employ several well-known methods to track bees to their hives. one of the most common though ingenious modes is to place a piece of bee-bread on a flat surface, a tile for instance, surrounding it with a circle of wet white paint. the bee, whose habit it is always to alight on the edge of any plane, has to travel through the paint to reach the bee-bread. when, therefore, she flies off, the observer can track her by the white on her body. the same operation is repeated at another place, at some distance from the first, and at right angles to the bee-line just ascertained. the position of the hive is easily determined, for it lies in the angle made by the intersection of the bee-lines. another method is described in the 'philosophical transactions for 1721.' the bee-hunter decoys, by a bait of honey, some of the bees into his trap, and when he has secured as many as he judges will suit his purpose, he encloses one in a tube, and, letting it fly, marks its course by a pocket-compass. departing to some distance, he liberates another, observes its course, and in this manner determines the position of the hive, upon the principle already detailed. these methods of bee-hunting depend upon the insect's habit of always flying in a right line to its home. those who have read cooper's tale of the 'prairie' must well remember the character of the bee-hunter, and the expression of "lining a bee to its hive." in reading these and similar accounts of the bees of distant parts of the world, we must not conclude that the descriptions refer to the same species as the common honey-bee. there are numerous species of social bees, which, while they differ in many circumstances, agree in the practice of storing up honey, in the same way as we have numerous species of the mason-bee and of the humble-bee. _chapter vii._ carpentry of tree-hoppers and saw-flies. the operations of an insect in boring into a leaf or a bud to form a lodgment for its eggs appear very simple. the tools, however, by which these effects are performed are very complicated and curious. in the case of gall-flies (_cynips_), the operation itself is not so remarkable as its subsequent chemical effects. these effects are so different from any others that may be classed under the head of insect architecture, that we shall reserve them for the latter part of this volume, although, with reference to the use of galls, the protection of eggs and larvæ, they ought to find a place here. we shall, however, at present confine ourselves to those which simply excavate a nest, without producing a tumour. the first of these insects which we shall mention is celebrated for its song, by the ancient greek poets, under the name of _tettix_. the romans called it _cicada_, which we sometimes, but erroneously, translate "grasshopper;" for the grasshoppers belong to an entirely different order of insects. we shall, therefore, take the liberty of calling the cicadæ _tree-hoppers_, to which the cuckoo-spit insect (_tettigonia spumaria_, oliv.) is allied; but there is only one of the true cicadæ hitherto ascertained to be british, namely, the _cicada hæmatodes_ (linn.), which was discovered in the new forest, hampshire, by mr. daniel bydder. m. réaumur was exceedingly anxious to study the economy of these insects; but they not being indigenous in the neighbourhood of paris, he commissioned his friends to send him some from more southern latitudes, and he procured in this way specimens not only from the south of france and from italy, but also from egypt. from these specimens he has given the best account of them yet published; for though, as he tells us, he had never had the pleasure of seeing one of them alive, the most interesting parts of their structure can be studied as well in dead as in living specimens. we ourselves possess several specimens from new holland, upon which we have verified some of the more interesting observations of réaumur. virgil tells us that in his time "the cicadæ burst the very shrubs with their querulous music;"[bh] but we may well suppose that he was altogether unacquainted with the singular instrument by means of which they can, not poetically, but actually, cut grooves in the branches they select for depositing their eggs. it is the male, as in the case of birds, which fills the woods with his song; while the female, though mute, is no less interesting to the naturalist on account of her curious ovipositor. this instrument, like all those with which insects are furnished by nature for cutting, notching, or piercing, is composed of a horny substance, and is also considerably larger than the size of the tree-hopper would proportionally indicate. it can on this account be partially examined without a microscope, being, in some of the larger species, no less than five lines[bi] in length. the ovipositor, or auger (_tarière_), as réaumur calls it, is lodged in a sheath which lies in a groove of the terminating ring of the belly. it requires only a very slight pressure to cause the instrument to protrude from its sheath, when it appears to the naked eye to be of equal thickness throughout, except at the point, where it is somewhat enlarged and angular, and on both sides finely indented with teeth. a more minute examination of the sheath demonstrates that it is composed of two horny pieces slightly curved, and ending in the form of an elongated spoon, the concave part of which is adapted to receive the convex end of the ovipositor. when the protruded instrument is further examined with a microscope, the denticulations, nine in number on each side, appear strong, and arranged with great symmetry, increasing in fineness towards the point, where there are three or four very small ones, beside the nine that are more obvious. the magnifier also shows that the instrument itself, which appeared simple to the naked eye, is, in fact, composed of three different pieces; two exterior armed with the teeth before mentioned, denominated by réaumur files (_limes_), and another pointed like a lancet, and not denticulated. the denticulated pieces, moreover, are capable of being moved forwards and backwards, while the centre one remains stationary; and as this motion is effected by pressing a pin or the blade of a knife over the muscles on either side at the origin of the ovipositor, it may be presumed that those muscles are destined for producing similar movements when the insect requires them. by means of a finely-pointed pin carefully introduced between the pieces, and pushed very gently downwards, they may be, with no great difficulty, separated in their whole extent. the contrivance by which those three pieces are held united, while at the same time the two files can be easily put in motion, is similar to those of our own mechanical inventions, with this difference, that no human workman could construct an instrument of this description so small, fine, exquisitely polished, and fitting so exactly. we should have been apt to form the grooves in the central piece, whereas they are scooped out in the handles of the files, and play upon two projecting ridges in the central piece, by which means this is rendered stronger. m. réaumur discovered that the best manner of showing the play of this extraordinary instrument is to cut it off with a pair of scissors near its origin, and then, taking it between the thumb and the finger at the point of section, work it gently to put the files in motion. beside the muscles necessary for the movement of the files, the handle of each is terminated by a curve of the same hard horny substance as itself, which not only furnishes the muscles with a sort of lever, but serves to press, as with a spring, the two files close to the central piece, as is shown in the lower figure. m. pontedera, who studied the economy of the tree-hoppers with some care, was anxious to see the insect itself make use of the ovipositor in forming grooves in wood, but found that it was so shy and easily alarmed, that it took to flight whenever he approached; a circumstance of which réaumur takes advantage, to soothe his regret that the insects were not indigenous in his neighbourhood. but of their workmanship, when completed, he had several specimens sent to him from provence and languedoc by the marquis de caumont. [illustration: ovipositors, with files, of tree-hopper, magnified.] [illustration: excavations for eggs of tree-hopper, with the chip-lids raised.] the gall-flies, when about to deposit their eggs, select growing plants and trees; but the tree-hoppers, on the contrary, make choice of dead, dried branches, for the mother seems to be aware that moisture would injure her progeny. the branch, commonly a small one, in which eggs have been deposited, may be recognised by being covered with little oblong elevations caused by small splinters of the wood, detached at one end, but left fixed at the other, by the insect. these elevations are for the most part in a line, rarely in a double line, nearly at equal distances from each other, and form a lid to a cavity in the wood about four lines in length, containing from four to ten eggs. it is to be remarked that the insect always selects a branch of such dimensions that it can get at the pith, not because the pith is more easily bored, for it does not penetrate into it all, but to form a warm and safe bed for the eggs. m. pontedera says, that when the eggs have been deposited, the insect closes the mouth of the hole with a gum capable of protecting them from the weather; but m. réaumur thinks this only a fancy, as, out of a great number which he examined, he could discover nothing of the kind. neither is such a protection wanted; for the woody splinters above mentioned furnish a very good covering. the grubs hatch from these eggs (of which, m. pontedera says, one female will deposit from five to seven hundred), issue from the same holes through which the eggs have been introduced, and betake themselves to the ground to feed on the roots of plants. they are not transformed into chrysalides, but into active nymphs, remarkable for their fore limbs, which are thick, strong, and furnished with prongs for digging; and when we are told, by dr. le ferve, that they make their way easily into hard stiff clay, to the depth of two or three feet, we perceive how necessary to them such a conformation must be. saw-flies. an instrument for cutting grooves in wood, still more ingeniously contrived than that of the tree-hopper, was first observed by vallisnieri, an eminent italian naturalist, in a four-winged fly, most appropriately denominated by m. réaumur the _saw-fly_ (_tenthredo_) of which many sorts are indigenous to great britain. the grubs from which these flies originate are indeed but too well known, as they frequently strip our rose, gooseberry, raspberry, and red currant trees of their leaves, and are no less destructive to birch, alder, and willows; while turnips and wheat suffer still more seriously by their ravages. these grubs may readily be distinguished from the caterpillars of moths and butterflies by having from sixteen to twenty-eight feet, by which they usually hang to the leaf they feed on, while they coil up the hinder part of their body in a spiral ring. the perfect flies are distinguished by four transparent wings; and some of the most common have a flat body of a yellow or orange colour, while the head and shoulders are black. in order to see the ovipositor, to which we shall for the present turn our chief attention, a female saw-fly must be taken, and her belly gently pressed, when a narrow slit will be observed to open at some distance from the apex, and a short, pointed, and somewhat curved body, of a brown colour and horny substance, will be protruded. the curved plates which form the sides of the slit are the termination of the sheath, in which the instrument lies concealed till it is wanted by the insect. the appearance of this instrument, however, and its singular structure, cannot be well understood without the aid of a microscope. [illustration: _a_, ovipositor of saw-fly, protruded from its sheath, magnified.] the instrument thus brought into view is a very finely-contrived saw, made of a horny substance, and adapted for penetrating branches and other parts of plants where the eggs are to be deposited. the ovipositor-saw of the insect is much more complicated than any of those employed by our carpenters. the teeth of our saws are formed in a line, but in such a manner as to cut in two lines parallel to, and at a small distance from, each other. this is effected by slightly bending the points of the alternate teeth right and left, so that one-half of the whole teeth stand a little to the right, and the other half a little to the left. the distance of the two parallel lines thus formed is called the _course_ of the saw, and it is only the portion of wood which lies in the course that is cut into sawdust by the action of the instrument. it will follow that in proportion to the thinness of a saw there will be the less destruction of wood which may be sawed. when cabinet-makers have to divide valuable wood into very thin leaves, they accordingly employ saws with a narrow course, while sawyers who cut planks use one with a broad course. the ovipositor-saw being extremely fine, does not require the teeth to diverge much; but from the manner in which they operate, it is requisite that they should not stand, like those of our saws, in a straight line. the greater portion of the edge of the instrument, on the contrary, is towards the point somewhat concave, similar to a scythe, while towards the base it becomes a little convex, the whole edge being nearly the shape of an italic _f_. [illustration: ovipositor-saw of saw-fly, with rasps shown in the cross lines.] the ovipositor-saw of the fly is put in motion in the same way as a carpenter's hand-saw, supposing the tendons attached to its base to form the handle, and the muscles which put it in motion to be the hand of the carpenter. but the carpenter can only work one saw at a time, whereas each of these flies is furnished with two, equal and similar, which it works at the same time--one being advanced and the other retracted alternately. the secret, indeed, of working more saws than one at once is not unknown to our mechanics; for two or three are sometimes fixed in the same frame. these, however, not only all move upwards and downwards simultaneously, but cut the wood in different places; while the two saws of the ovipositor work in the same cut, and consequently, though the teeth are extremely fine, the effect is similar to a saw with a wide set. it is important, seeing that the ovipositor-saws are so fine, that they be not bent or separated while in operation--and this, also, nature has provided for, by lodging the backs of the saws in a groove, formed by two membranous plates, similar to the structure of a clasp-knife. these plates are thickest at the base, becoming gradually thinner as they approach the point, which the form of the saws requires. according to vallisnieri, it is not the only use of this apparatus to form a back for the saws, he having discovered, between the component membranes, two canals, which he supposes are employed to conduct the eggs of the insect into the grooves which it has hollowed out for them. [illustration: portion of a saw-fly's comb-toothed rasp, and saw.] the teeth of a carpenter's saw, it may be remarked, are simple, whereas the teeth of the ovipositor-saw are themselves denticulated with fine teeth. the latter, also, combines at the same time the properties of a saw and of a rasp or file. so far as we are aware, these two properties have, never been combined in any of the tools of our carpenters. the rasping part of the ovipositor, however, is not constructed like our rasps, with short teeth thickly studded together, but has teeth almost as long as those of the saw, and placed contiguous to them, on the back of the instrument, resembling in their form and setting the teeth of a comb, as may be seen in the figure. of course, such observations are conducted with the aid of a microscope. when a female saw-fly has selected the branch of a rose-tree, or any other, in which to deposit her eggs, she may be seen bending the end of her belly inwards, in form of a crescent, and protruding her saw, at the same time, to penetrate the bark or wood. she maintains this recurved position so long as she works in deepening the groove; but when she has attained the depth required, she unbends her body into a straight line, and in this position works upon the place lengthways, by applying the saw more horizontally. when she has rendered the groove as large as she wishes, the motion of the tendons ceases, and an egg is placed in the cavity. the saw is then withdrawn into the sheath for about two-thirds of its length, and at the same moment a sort of frothy liquid, similar to a lather made with soap, is dropped over the egg, either for the purpose of gluing it in its place or sheathing it from the action of the juices of the tree. she proceeds in the same manner in sawing out a second groove, and so on in succession, till she has deposited all her eggs, sometimes to the number of twenty-four. the grooves are usually placed in a line, at a small distance from one another, on the same branch; but sometimes the mother-fly shifts to another, or to a different part of the branch, when she is either scared or finds it unsuitable. she commonly, also, takes more than one day to the work, notwithstanding the superiority of her tools. réaumur has seen a saw-fly make six grooves in succession, which occupied her about ten hours and a half. the grooves, when finished, have externally little elevation above the level of the bark, appearing like the puncture of a lancet in the human skin; but in the course of a day or two the part becomes first brown and then black, while it also becomes more and more elevated. this increased elevation is not owing to the growth of the bark, the fibres of which, indeed, have been destroyed by the ovipositor-saw, but to the actual growth of the egg; for when a new-laid egg of the saw-fly is compared with one which has been several days enclosed in the groove, the latter will be found to be very considerably the larger. this growth of the egg is contrary to the analogy observable in the eggs of birds, and even of most other insects; but it has its advantages. as it continues to increase, it raises the bark more and more, and consequently widens, at the same time, the slit at the entrance; so that, when the grub is hatched, it finds a passage ready for its exit. the mother-fly seems to be aware of this growth of her eggs, for she takes care to deposit them at such distances as may prevent their disturbing one another by their development. another species of saw-fly, with a yellow body and deep violet-coloured wings, which also selects the rose-tree, deposits her eggs in a different manner. instead of making a groove for each egg, like the preceding, she forms a large single groove, sufficient for about two dozen eggs. these eggs are all arranged in pairs, forming two straight lines parallel to the sides of the branch. the eggs, however, though thus deposited in a common groove, are carefully kept each in its place; for a ridge of the wood is left to prevent those on the right from touching those on the left--and not only so, but between each egg of a row a thin partition of wood is left, forming a shallow cell. [illustration: nest of eggs of saw-fly, in rose-tree.] the edges of this groove, it will be obvious, must be farther apart than those which only contain a single egg, and, in fact, the whole is open to inspection; but the eggs are kept from falling out, both by the frothy glue before mentioned, and by the walls of the cells containing them. they were observed also, by vallisnieri, to increase in size like the preceding. [illustration: _a a a_, saw-fly of the gooseberry (_nematus ribesii_, stephens). _b_, its eggs on the nervures of a leaf. _d d_, the caterpillars eating. _c_, one rolled up. _f_, one extended.] [in the middle of summer, plenty of these grooves may be seen, by looking at the under lid of leaf-stalks or delicate young twigs. row upon row of the grooves are sometimes found, so the all-destructive power of the insects must indeed be great. the larvæ, when full fed, dispose of themselves in various ways. those of the gooseberry-fly, for example (_nematus ribesii_), after they have stripped the bush of its leaves, either seek the ground or remain on the branches, and spin a series of cocoons, attaching them to each branch by their ends. those, therefore, who wish to destroy these little pests, must know both localities of the cocoons, or they will allow one half to escape while destroying the other.] this insect has a flat yellow body and four pellucid wings, the two outer ones marked with brown on the edge. in april it issues from the pupa, which has lain under ground from the preceding september. the female of the gooseberry saw-fly does not, like some of the family, cut a groove in the branch to deposit her eggs;--"of what use, then," asks réaumur, "is her ovipositor-saw?" in order to satisfy himself on this point, he introduced a pair of the flies under a bell-glass along with a branch bent from a red-currant bush, that he might watch the process. the female immediately perambulated the leaves in search of a place suited to her purpose, and passing under a leaf began to lay, depositing six eggs within a quarter of an hour. each time she placed herself as if she wished to cut into the leaf with her saw; but, upon taking out the leaf, the eggs appeared rather projecting than lodged in its substance. the caterpillars are hatched in two or three weeks; and they feed in company till after midsummer, frequently stripping both the leaves and fruit of an extensive plantation. the caterpillar has six legs and sixteen pro-legs, and is of a green colour mixed with yellow, and covered with minute black dots raised like shagreen. in its last skin it loses the black dots and becomes smooth and yellowish white. the caledonian horticultural society have published a number of plans for destroying these caterpillars. [another remarkable mode of disposing of the pupa is shown in the accompanying illustration; it represents the nest of an exotic saw-fly, named _deilocenes ellisii_. in this instance, the numerous larvæ unite in spinning for themselves a common envelope of considerable strength; it is seen as it appears when attached to the branch of a tree. the material of which it is composed is the tough silken fibre spun by the larvæ of so many insects, which may be seen in perfection in the cocoons of the microgaster. two species of this curious group will be described in a future page. by the side of the branch is seen a diagram of the same nest, as it would appear in section. the irregularly angular cells are seen in the centre, and around them is the common envelope composed of fibres. as may be seen from the upper figure, as soon as the insects have attained their perfect form, they gnaw their way out of the cell and the covering also. the insect is shown as it appears when flying. [illustration] we will conclude this chapter by a few remarks upon some exotic insects, whose nests are not only remarkable in their form, but are valuable to the entomologist in affording grounds for the reception or rejection of certain familiar theories upon the subject of this volume--insect architecture. several of these nests are of comparatively late discovery, and are therefore found in this work. the curious series of cells shown in the left-hand figure is made by a hymenopterous insect belonging to the genus icaria, and the specimens from which the drawing was taken may be seen in the british museum. they are made of a paper-like substance, much resembling in look the material of which the common wasp builds its cells, but as they are exposed to the air, they are necessarily tougher and stronger than ordinary wasp cells, which are shielded from the elements. the insects belonging to this genus make nests of very diverse forms, some of which are stuck on leaves in a most curious manner, reminding the observer of the parasitic mollercoids that cover the stems and fronds of large seaweeds. others, however, are not dependent upon leaves for their support, but stand out boldly from the branches to which they are fixed, supported entirely by a footstalk composed of the same material as the cells, though necessarily of a harder and more compact substance. [illustration] as many of these nests have been found in india, it is easy to trace the manner in which they were made. the mother insect began by kneading woody fibre into a paste, and making the footstalk of the future nest. one end of this footstalk is attached very strongly to the branch, and to the other end is fastened the first cell. as soon as the icaria has made the first beginning of the cell, and raised--or rather lowered--the walls to a fourth or so of their complete dimensions, she inserts an egg into the yet imperfect cell, and adds to the walls while the egg is being hatched. her next duty is, to add a second cell, and this is quickly followed by a third, all these cells being fastened to each other on three or four of their sides, leaving the others free and unattached. it is evident that by this mode of construction the cells nearest the branch must be the longest, because they are begun the soonest, and this will always be found to be the case. now, there is a point respecting which the attention of the reader must be specially solicited. on looking at the cells, he will see that they are partly cylindrical and partly angular, and may perhaps think that this fact goes towards proving that the hexagonal shape of bee cells is owing to mutual pressure, the outer sides of the cells being rounded, while the inner are angular. but, there are other cells in existence, built by allied insects, and formed in an analogous manner, and which are either angular or cylindrical, exactly according to the instinctive powers of the insect which built them. on the right hand of the icarian nest may be seen a singular-looking structure pendent at the end of a long footstalk. this is the nest of an insect called _mischocyttarus labiatus_, one of the polistidæ. in this case, the cells are built so as to be defended from the rain by a sort of penthouse, over which all the rain-drops would run, and so fall harmless to the ground. the cells of this insect are soft in texture, and are more cylindrical than angular, the angles being but very slightly marked. here, however, is the nest of an insect called _raphigaster guiniensis_, which is built in a manner similar to that of the icaria, the cells being closely in contact with each other. the material of which they are made is peculiarly soft. something like very thin and flimsy grey paper. consequently, they must press strongly upon each other, and we might reasonably expect to find that their angles are well and boldly developed. but, instead of that, we find that they have no angles at all, but remain smooth and rounded throughout their length. [illustration] perhaps the most powerful argument against the equal pressure theory is to be found in the nest of a species of icaria, which is shown in the accompanying illustration. [illustration] as may be seen by reference to the illustration, the material of which they are made is so soft, that they bend over by their own weight, and therefore we might expect to find that they would follow the shape of the raphigaster and the mischocyttarus. but, we find that all the cells are boldly angular, and that the angles are just as sharp on the exterior of each cell as on the sides which cement the cells together. it is clear that the bold lines and decided angles of these cells cannot have been produced mechanically, and that they must have been intentionally formed by the insect architect. one single cell, such as is here shown, is sufficient to overthrow the theory of "equal pressure," by which insects were deprived of all mechanical skill, and supposed to labour like so many animated machines, without caring or knowing anything about the work on which they were engaged. according to the equal pressure theory, each of these cells would have required six similar cells around it before it could have assumed the hexagonal form, and yet we find that a cell which is only connected with its neighbour by one side, has its other five sides angular, and with the angles boldly defined.] _chapter viii._ leaf-rolling caterpillars. the labours of those insect-architects, which we have endeavoured to describe in the preceding pages, have been chiefly those of mothers to form a secure nest for their eggs, and the young hatched from them, during the first stage of their existence. but a much more numerous and not less ingenious class of architects may be found among the newly-hatched insects themselves, who, untaught by experience, and altogether unassisted by previous example, manifest the most marvellous skill in the construction of tents, houses, galleries, covert-ways, fortifications, and even cities, not to speak of subterranean caverns and subaqueous apartments, which no human art could rival. the caterpillars, which are familiarly termed leaf-rollers, are perfect hermits. each lives in a cell, which it begins to construct almost immediately after it is hatched; and the little structure is at once a house which protects the caterpillar from its enemies, and a store of food for its subsistence, while it remains shut up in its prison. but the insect only devours the inner folds. the art which these caterpillars exercise, although called into action but once, perhaps, in their lives, is perfect. they accomplish their purpose with a mechanical skill, which is remarkable for its simplicity and unerring success. the art of rolling leaves into a secure and immovable cell may not appear very difficult: nor would it be so if the caterpillars had fingers, or any parts which were equivalent to those delicate and admirable natural instruments with which man accomplishes his most elaborate works. and yet the human fingers could not roll a rocket-case of paper more regularly than the caterpillar rolls his house of leaves. a leaf is not a very easy substance to roll. in some trees it is very brittle. it has also a natural elasticity,--a disposition to spring back if it be bent,--which is caused by the continuity of its threads, or nervures. this elasticity is speedily overcome by the ingenuity with which the caterpillar works; and the leaf is thus retained in its artificial position for many weeks, under every variety of temperature. we will examine, in detail, how these little leaf-rollers accomplish their task. one of the most common as well as the most simple fabrics constructed by caterpillars, may be discovered during summer on almost every kind of bush and tree. we shall take as examples those which are found on the lilac and on the oak. [illustration: lilac-tree moth. (_lozotænia riteana_, stephens?)] [illustration: nest of a lilac-leaf roller.] a small but very pretty chocolate-coloured moth, abundant in every garden, but not readily seen, from its frequently alighting on the ground, which is so nearly of its own colour, deposits its eggs on the leaves of the currant, the lilac, and of some other trees, appropriating a leaf to each egg. as soon as the caterpillar is hatched, it begins to secure itself from birds and predatory insects by rolling up the lilac leaf into the form of a gallery, where it may feed in safety. we have repeatedly seen one of them when just escaped from the egg, and only a few lines long, fix several silk threads from one edge of a leaf to the other, or from the edge to the mid-rib; then going to the middle of the space, he shortened the threads by bending them with his feet, and consequently pulled the edges of the leaves into a circular form; and he retained them in that position by gluing down each thread as he shortened it. in their younger state, those caterpillars seldom roll more than a small portion of the leaf; but, when farther advanced, they unite the two edges together in their whole extent, with the exception of a small opening at one end, by which an exit may be made in case of need. [illustration: another nest of lilac-leaf roller.] another species of caterpillar, closely allied to this, rolls up the lilac leaves in a different form, beginning at the end of a leaf, and fixing and pulling its threads till it gets it nearly into the shape of a scroll of parchment. to retain this form more securely, it is not contented, like the former insect, with threads fixed on the inside of the leaf; but has also recourse to a few cables which it weaves on the outside. [illustration: small green oak-moth. (_tortrix viridana._)] [illustration: nests of oak-leaf-rolling caterpillars.] another species of moth, allied to the two preceding, is of a pretty green colour, and lays its eggs upon the leaves of the oak. this caterpillar folds them up in a similar manner, but with this difference, that it works on the under surface of the leaf, pulling the edge downwards and backwards, instead of forwards and upwards. this species is very abundant, and may readily be found as soon as the leaves expand. in june, when the perfect insect has appeared, by beating a branch of an oak, a whole shower of these pretty green moths may be shook into the air. * * * * * among the leaf-rolling caterpillars, there is a small dark-brown one, with a black head and six feet, very common in gardens, on the currant-bush, or the leaves of the rose-tree (_lozotænia rosana_, stephens). it is exceedingly destructive to the flower-buds. the eggs are deposited in the summer, and probably also in the autumn or in spring, in little oval or circular patches of a green colour. the grub makes its appearance with the first opening of the leaves, of whose structure in the half-expanded state it takes advantage to construct its summer tent. it is not, like some of the other leaf-rollers, contented with a single leaf, but weaves together as many as there are in the bud where it may chance to have been hatched, binding their discs so firmly with silk, that all the force of the ascending sap, and the increasing growth of the leaves, cannot break through; a farther expansion is of course prevented. the little inhabitant in the meanwhile banquets securely on the partitions of its tent, eating door-ways from one apartment into another, through which it can escape in case of danger or disturbance. the leaflets of the rose, it may be remarked, expand in nearly the same manner as a fan, and the operations of this ingenious little insect retain them in the form of a fan nearly shut. sometimes, however, it is not contented with one bundle of leaflets, but by means of its silken cords unites all which spring from the same bud into a rain-proof canopy, under the protection of which it can feast on the flower-bud, and prevent it from ever blowing. in the instance of the currant-leaves, the proceedings of the grub are the same; but it cannot unite the plaits so smoothly as in the case of the rose leaflets, and it requires more labour, also, as the nervures, being stiff, demand a greater effort to bend them. when all the exertions of the insect prove unavailing in its endeavours to draw the edges of a leaf together, it bends them inwards as far as it can, and weaves a close web of silk over the open space between. this is well exemplified in one of the commonest of our leaf-rolling caterpillars, which may be found as early as february on the leaves of the nettle and the white archangel (_lamium album_). it is of a light dirty-green colour, spotted with black, and covered with a few hairs. in its young state it confines itself to the bosom of a small leaf, near the insertion of the leaf-stalk, partly bending the edges inwards, and covering in the interval with a silken curtain. as this sort of covering is not sufficient for concealment when the animal advances in growth, it abandons the base of the leaf for the middle, where it doubles up one side in a very secure and ingenious manner. [illustration: nest of the nettle-leaf-rolling caterpillar.] we have watched this little architect begin and finish his tent upon a nettle in our study, the whole operation taking more than half an hour. (j. r.) he began by walking over the plant in all directions, examining the leaves severally, as if to ascertain which was best fitted for his purpose by being pliable, and bending with the weight of his body. having found one to his mind, he placed himself along the mid-rib, to the edge of which he secured himself firmly with the pro-legs of his tail; then stretching his head to the edge of the leaf, he fixed a series of parallel cables between it and the mid-rib, with another series crossing these at an acute angle. the position in which he worked was most remarkable, for he did not, as might have been supposed, spin his cables with his face to the leaf, but throwing himself on his back, which was turned towards the leaf, he hung with his whole weight by his first-made cables. this, by drawing them into the form of a curve, shortened them, and consequently pulled the edge of the leaf down towards the mid-rib. the weight of his body was not, however, the only power which he employed; for, using the terminal pro-legs as a point of support, he exerted the whole muscles of his body to shorten his threads, and pull down the edge of the leaf. when he had drawn the threads as tight as he could, he held them till he spun fresh ones of sufficient strength to retain the leaf in the bent position into which he had pulled it. he then left the first series to hang loose while he shortened the fresh-spun ones as before. this process was continued till he had worked down about an inch and a half of the leaf, as much as he deemed sufficient for his habitation. this was the first part of the architecture. by the time he had worked to the end of the fold, he had brought the edge of the leaf to touch the mid-rib; but it was only held in this position by a few of the last-spun threads, for all the first-spun ones hung loose within. apparently aware of this, the insect protruded more than half of its body through the small aperture left at the end, and spun several bundles of threads on the outside precisely similar to those ropes of a tent which extend beyond the canvas, and are pegged into the ground. unwilling to trust the exposure of his whole body on the outside, lest he should be seized by the first sand-wasp (_odynerus_) or sparrow which might descry him, he now withdrew to complete the internal portion of his dwelling, where the threads were hanging loose and disorderly. for this purpose he turned his head about, and proceeded precisely as he had done at the beginning of his task, but taking care to spin his new threads so as to leave the loose ones on the outside, and make his apartment smooth and neat. when he again reached the opposite end, he constructed there also a similar series of cables on the outside, and then withdrew to give some final touches to the interior. it is said by kirby and spence,[bj] that when these leaf-rolling insects find that the larger nervures of the leaves are so strong as to prevent them from bending, they "weaken it by gnawing it here and there half through." we have never observed the circumstance, though we have witnessed the process in some hundreds of instances; and we doubt the statement, from the careful survey which the insect makes of the capabilities of the leaf before the operation is begun. if she found upon examination that a leaf would not bend, she would reject it, as we have often seen happen, and pass to another. (j. r.) * * * * * a species of leaf-roller, of the most diminutive size, merits particular mention, although it is not remarkable in colour or figure. it is without hair, of a greenish-white, and has all the vivacity of the other leaf-rollers. sorrel is the plant on which it feeds; and the manner in which it rolls a portion of the leaf is very ingenious. [illustration: leaf-rolling caterpillars of the sorrel.] the structure which it contrives is a sort of conical pyramid, composed of five or six folds lapped round each other. from the position of this little cone the caterpillar has other labours to perform, beside that of rolling the leaf. it first cuts across the leaf, its teeth acting as a pair of scissors; but it does not entirely detach this segment. it rolls it up very gradually, by attaching threads of silk to the plane surface of the leaf, as we have before seen; and then, having cut in a different direction, sets the cone upright, by weaving other threads, attached to the centre of the roll and the plane of the leaf, upon which it throws the weight of its body. this, it will be readily seen, is a somewhat complicated effort of mechanical skill. it has been minutely described by m. réaumur; but the preceding representation will perhaps make the process clearer than a more detailed account. this caterpillar, like those of which we have already spoken, devours all the interior of the roll. it weaves, also, in the interior, a small and thin cocoon of white silk, the tissue of which is made compact and close. it is then transformed into a chrysalis. [illustration: nests of the hesperia malvæ, with caterpillar, chrysalis, and butterflies.] the caterpillars of two of our largest and handsomest butterflies, the painted lady (_cynthia cardui_, stephens), and the admiral, or _alderman_ of the london fly-fanciers (_vanessa atalanta_), are also leaf-rollers. the first selects the leaves of the great spear-thistle, and sometimes those of the stemless or star-thistle, which might be supposed rather difficult to bend; but the caterpillar is four times as large and strong as those which we have been hitherto describing. in some seasons it is plentiful; in others it is rarely to be met with: but the admiral is seldom scarce in any part of the country; and by examining the leaves of nettles which appear folded edge to edge, in july and august, the caterpillar may be readily found. another butterfly (_hesperia malvæ_) is met with on dry banks where mallows grow, in may, or even earlier, and also in august, but is not indigenous. the caterpillar, which is grey, with a black head, and four sulphur-coloured spots on the neck, folds around it the leaves of the mallow, upon which it feeds. there is nothing, however, peculiarly different in its proceedings from those above described; but the care with which it selects and rolls up one of the smaller leaves, when it is about to be transformed into a chrysalis, is worthy of remark; it joins it, indeed, so completely round and round, that it has somewhat the resemblance of an egg. within this green cell it lies secure, till the time arrives when it is ready to burst its cerements, and trust to the quickness of its wings for protection against its enemies. among the nests of caterpillars which roll up parcels of leaves, we know none so well contrived as those which are found upon willows and a species of osier. the long and narrow leaves of these plants are naturally adapted to be adjusted parallel to each other; for this is the direction which they have at the end of each stalk, when they are not entirely developed. one kind of small smooth caterpillar (_tortrix chlorana_), with sixteen feet, the under part of which is brown, and streaked with white, fastens these leaves together, and makes them up into parcels. there is nothing particularly striking in the mechanical manner in which it constructs them. it does precisely what we should do in a similar case: it winds a thread round those leaves which must be kept together, from a little above their termination to a very short distance from their extreme point; and as it finds the leaves almost constantly lying near each other, it has little difficulty in bringing them together, as is shown in the following cut, _a_. the prettiest of these parcels are those which are made upon a kind of osier, the borders of whose leaves sometimes form columnar bundles before they become developed. a section of these leaves has the appearance of filigree-work (see _b_). [illustration: nest of willow-leaf roller.] a caterpillar which feeds upon the willow, and whose singular attitudes have obtained for it the trivial name of _ziczac_, also constructs for itself an arbour of the leaves, by drawing them together in an ingenious manner. m. roesel[bk] has given a tolerable representation of this nest, and of the caterpillar. the caterpillar is found in june; and the moth (_notodonta ziczac_) from may to july in the following year (see cut, p. 151). beside those caterpillars which live solitary in the folds of a leaf, there are others which associate, employing their united powers to draw the leaves of the plants they feed upon into a covering for their common protection. among these we may mention the caterpillar of a small butterfly, the plantain or glanville fritillary (_melitea cinxia_), which is very scarce in this country. [illustration: ziczac caterpillar and nest.] although a colony of these caterpillars is not numerous, seldom amounting to a hundred individuals, the place which they have selected is not hard to discover. their abode may be seen in the meadow in form of a tuft of herbage covered with a white web, which may readily be mistaken, at first view, for that of a spider, but closer inspection soon corrects this notion. it is, in fact, a sort of common tent, in which the whole brood lives, eats, and undergoes the usual transformations. the shape of this tent, for the most part, approaches the pyramidal, though that depends much upon the natural growth of the herbage which composes it. the interior is divided into compartments formed by the union of several small tents, as it were, to which others have been from time to time added according to the necessities of the community. when they have devoured all the leaves, or at least those which are most tender and succulent, they abandon their first camp, and construct another contiguous to it under a tuft of fresh leaves. several of these encampments may sometimes be seen within the distance of a foot or two, when they can find plantain (_plantago lanceolata_) fit for their purpose; but though they prefer this plant, they content themselves with grass if it is not to be procured. when they are about to cast their skins, but particularly when they perceive the approach of winter, they construct a more durable apartment in the interior of their principal tent. the ordinary web is thin and semi-transparent, permitting the leaves to be seen through it; but their winter canvas, if we may call it so, is thick, strong, and quite opaque, forming a sort of circular hall without any partition, where the whole community lie coiled up and huddled together. early in spring they issue forth in search of fresh food, and again construct tents to protect them from cold and rain, and from the mid-day sun. m. réaumur found upon trial, that it was not only the caterpillars hatched from the eggs of the same mother which would unite in constructing the common tent; for different broods, when put together, worked in the same social and harmonious manner. we ourselves ascertained, during the present summer (1829), that this principle of sociality is not confined to the same species, nor even to the same genus. the experiment which we tried was to confine two broods of different species to the same branch, by placing it in a glass of water to prevent their escape. the caterpillars which we experimented on were several broods of the brown-tail moth (_porthesia auriflua_) and the lackey (_clisiocampa neustria_). these we found to work with as much industry and harmony in constructing the common tent as if they had been at liberty on their native trees; and when the lackeys encountered the brown-tails they manifested no alarm nor uneasiness, but passed over the backs of one another, as if they had made only a portion of the branch. in none of their operations did they seem to be subject to any discipline, each individual appearing to work, in perfecting the structure, from individual instinct, in the same manner as was remarked by m. huber in the case of the hive-bees. in making such experiments, it is obvious that the species of caterpillars experimented with must feed upon the same sort of plant.[bl] (j. r.) the design of the caterpillars in rolling up the leaves is not only to conceal themselves from birds and predatory insects, but also to protect themselves from the cuckoo-flies, which lie in wait in every quarter to deposit their eggs in their bodies, that their progeny may devour them. their mode of concealment, however, though it appear to be cunningly contrived and skilfully executed, is not always successful, their enemies often discovering their hiding-place. we happened to see a remarkable instance of this last summer (1828), in the case of one of the lilac caterpillars which had changed into a chrysalis within the closely-folded leaf. a small ichneumon, aware it should seem of the very spot where the chrysalis lay within this leaf, was seen boring through it with her ovipositor, and introducing her eggs through the punctures thus made into the body of the dormant insect. we allowed her to lay all her eggs, about six in number, and then put the leaf under an inverted glass. in a few days the eggs of the cuckoo-fly were hatched, the grubs devoured the lilac chrysalis, and finally changed into pupæ in a case of yellow silk, and into perfect insects like their parents. (j. r.) _chapter ix._ insects forming habitations of detached leaves. the habitations of the insects which we have just described consist of growing leaves, bent, rolled, or pressed together, and fixed in their positions by silken threads. but there are other habitations of a similar kind, which are constructed by cutting out and detaching a whole leaf, or a portion of a leaf. we have already seen how dexterously the upholsterer-bees cut out small parts of leaves and petals with their mandibles, and fit them into their cells. some of the caterpillars do not exhibit quite so much neatness and elegance as the leaf-cutting bees, though their structures answer all the purposes intended; but there are others, as we shall presently see, that far excel the bees, at least in the delicate minutiæ of their workmanship. we shall first advert to those structures which are the most simple. * * * * * not far from longchamps, in a road through the bois de boulogne, is a large marsh, which m. réaumur never observed to be in a dry state even during summer. this marsh is surrounded with very lofty oaks, and abounds with pondweed, the water-plant named by botanists _potamogeton_. the shining leaves of this plant, which are as large as those of the laurel or orange-tree, but thicker and more fleshy, are spread upon the surface of the water. having pulled up several of these about the middle of june, m. réaumur observed, beneath one of the first which he examined, an elevation of an oval shape, which was formed out of a leaf of the same plant. he carefully examined it, and discovered that threads of silk were attached to this elevation. breaking the threads, he raised up one of the ends, and saw a cavity, in which a caterpillar (_hydrocampa potamogeta_) was lodged. an indefatigable observer, such as m. réaumur, would naturally follow up this discovery; and he has accordingly given us a memoir of the pondweed tent-maker, distinguished by his usual minute accuracy. in order to make a new habitation, the caterpillar fastens itself on the under side of a leaf of the _potamogeton_. with its mandibles it pierces some part of this leaf, and afterwards gradually gnaws a curved line, marking the form of the piece which it wishes to detach. when the caterpillar has cut off, as from a piece of cloth, a patch of leaf of the size and shape suited to its purpose, it is provided with half of the materials requisite for making a tent. it takes hold of this piece by its mandibles, and conveys it to the situation on the under side of its own or another leaf, whichever is found most appropriate. it is there disposed in such a manner that the under part of the patch--the side which was the under part of the entire leaf--is turned towards the under part of the new leaf, so that the inner walls of the cell or tent are always made by the under part of two portions of leaf. the leaves of the potamogeton are a little concave on the under side; and thus the caterpillar produces a hollow cell, though the rims are united. the caterpillar secures the leaf in its position by threads of white silk. it then weaves in the cavity a cocoon, which is somewhat thin, but of very close tissue. there it shuts itself up, to appear again only in the form of the perfect insect, and is soon transformed into a chrysalis. in this cocoon of silk no point touches the water; whilst the tent of leaves, lined with silk, has been constructed underneath the water. this fact proves that the caterpillar has a particular art by which it repels the water from between the leaves. when the caterpillar, which has thus conveyed and disposed a patch of leaf against another leaf, is not ready to be transformed into a chrysalis, it applies itself to make a tent or habitation which it may carry everywhere about with it. it begins by slightly fixing the piece against the perfect leaf, leaving intervals all round, between the piece and leaf, at which it may project its head. the piece which it has fixed serves as a model for cutting out a similar piece in the other leaf. the caterpillar puts them accurately together, except at one end of the oval, where an opening is left for the insect to project its head through. when the caterpillar is inclined to change its situation, it draws itself forward by means of its scaly limbs, riveted upon the leaf. the membraneous limbs, which are riveted against the inner sides of the tents, oblige it to follow the anterior part of the body, as it advances. the caterpillar, also, puts its head out of the tent every time it desires to eat. there is found on the common chickweed (_stellaria media_), towards the end of july, a middle-sized smooth green caterpillar, having three brown spots bordered with white on the back, and six legs and ten pro-legs, whose architecture is worthy of observation. when it is about to go into chrysalis, towards the beginning of august, it gnaws off, one by one, a number of the leaves and smaller twigs of the chickweed, and adjusts them into an oval cocoon, somewhat rough and unfinished externally, but smooth, uniform, and finely tapestried with white silk within. here it undergoes its transformation securely, and, when the period of its pupa trance has expired in the following july, it makes its exit in the form of a yellowish moth, with several brown spots above, and a brown band on each of its four wings below. it is also furnished with a sort of tail. on the cypress-spurge (_euphorbia cyparissias_), a native woodland plant, but not of very common occurrence, may be found, towards the end of october, a caterpillar of a middle size, sparely tufted with hair, and striped with black, white, red, and brown. the leaves of the plant, which are in the form of short narrow blades of grass, are made choice of by the caterpillar to construct its cocoon, which it does with great neatness and regularity, the end of each leaf, after it has been detached from the plant, being fixed to the stem, and the other leaves placed parallel, as they are successively added. the other ends of all these are bent inwards, so as to form a uniformly rounded oblong figure, somewhat larger at one end than at the other. a caterpillar which builds a very similar cocoon to the last-mentioned may be found upon a more common plant--the yellow snap-dragon or toad-flax (_antirrhinum linaria_)--which is to be seen in almost every hedge. it is somewhat shaped like a leech, is of a middle size, and the prevailing colour pearl-grey, but striped with yellow and black. it spins up about the beginning of september, forming the outer coating of pieces of detached leaves of the plant, and sometimes of whole leaves placed longitudinally, the whole disposed with great symmetry and neatness. the moth appears in the following june. [illustration: cypress-spurge caterpillar--(_acronycta euphrasiæ_)--with a cocoon, on a branch.] it is worthy of remark, as one of the most striking instances of instinctive foresight, that the caterpillars which build structures of this substantial description are destined to lie much longer in their chrysalis trance than those which spin merely a flimsy web of silk. for the most part, indeed, the latter undergo their final transformation in a few weeks; while the former continue entranced the larger portion of a year, appearing in the perfect state the summer after their architectural labours have been completed. (j. r.) this is a remarkable example of the instinct which leads these little creatures to act as if under the dictates of prudence, and with a perfect knowledge of the time, be it long or short, which will elapse before the last change of the pupa takes place. that the caterpillar, while weaving its cocoon and preparing to assume the pupa state, exercises any reflective faculties, or is aware of what is about to occur relative to its own self, we cannot admit. it enters upon a work of which it has had no previous experience, and which is performed, as far as contingencies allow, in the same manner by every caterpillar of the same species. its labours, its mode of carrying them on, and the very time in which they are to be commenced, are all pre-appointed; and an instinctive impulse urges and guides; and with this instinct its organic endowments are in precise harmony; nor does instinct ever impel to labours for which an animal is not provided. "the same wisdom," says bonnet, "which has constructed and arranged with so much art the various organs of animals, and has made them concur towards one determined end, has also provided that the different operations which are the natural results of the economy of the animal should concur towards the same end. the creature is directed towards his object by an invisible hand; he executes with precision, and by one effort, those works which we so much admire; he appears to act as if he reasoned, to return to his labour at the proper time, to change his scheme in case of need. but in all this he only obeys the secret influence which drives him on. he is but an instrument which cannot judge of each action, but is wound up by that adorable intelligence, which has traced out for every insect its proper labours, as he has traced the orbit of each planet. when, therefore, i see an insect working at the construction of a nest, or a cocoon, i am impressed with respect, because it seems to me that i am at a spectacle where the supreme artist is hid behind the curtain."[bm] there is a small sort of caterpillar which may be found on old walls, feeding upon minute mosses and lichens, the proceedings of which are well worthy of attention. they are similar, in appearance and size, to the caterpillar of the small cabbage-butterfly (_pontia rapæ_), and are smooth and bluish. the material which they use in building their cocoons is composed of the leaves and branchlets of green moss, which they cut into suitable pieces, detaching at the same time along with them a portion of the earth in which they grow. they arrange these upon the walls of their building, with the moss on the outside, and the earth on the inside, making a sort of vault of the tiny bits of green moss turf, dug from the surface of the wall. so neatly, also, are the several pieces joined, that the whole might well be supposed to be a patch of moss which had grown in form of an oval tuft, a little more elevated than the rest growing on the wall. when these caterpillars are shut up in a box with some moss, without earth, they construct with it cells in form of a hollow ball, very prettily plaited and interwoven. [illustration: moss-cell of small caterpillar (_bryophila perla?_)] in may last (1829), we found on the walls of greenwich park a great number of caterpillars, whose manners bore some resemblance to those of the grub described by m. réaumur. (j. r.) they were of middle size, with a dull-orange stripe along the back; the head and sides of the body black, and the belly greenish. their abodes were constructed with ingenuity and care. a caterpillar of this sort appears to choose either a part where the mortar contains a cavity, or it digs one suited to its design. over the opening of the hollow in the mortar it builds an arched wall, so as to form a chamber considerably larger than is usual with other architect caterpillars. it selects grains of mortar, brick, or lichen, fixing them, by means of silk, firmly into the structure. as some of these vaulted walls were from an inch to an inch and a half long, and about a third of an inch wide and deep, it may be well imagined that it would require no little industry and labour to complete the work; yet it does not demand more than a few hours for the insect to raise it from the foundation. like all other insect architects, this caterpillar uses its own body for a measuring-rule, and partly for a mould, or rather a block or centre to shape the walls by, curving itself round and round concentrically with the arch which it is building. we afterwards found one of these caterpillars, which had dug a cell in one of the softest of the bricks, covering itself on the outside with an arched wall of brick-dust, cemented with silk. as this brick was of a bright-red colour, we were thereby able to ascertain that there was not a particle of lichen employed in the structure. the neatness mentioned by réaumur, as remarkable in his moss-building caterpillars, is equally observable in that which we have just described; for, on looking at the surface of the wall, it would be impossible for a person unacquainted with those structures to detect where they were placed, as they are usually, on the outside, level with the adjoining brick-work; and it is only when they are opened by the entomologist, that the little architect is perceived lying snug in his chamber. if a portion of the wall be thus broken down, the caterpillar immediately commences repairing the breach, by piecing in bits of mortar and fragments of lichen, till we can scarcely distinguish the new portion from the old. _chapter x._ caddis-worms and carpenter-caterpillars. [illustration: leaf nest of caddis-worm.] [illustration: reed nest of caddis-worm.] there is a very interesting class of grubs which live under water, where they construct for themselves moveable tents of various materials as their habits direct them, or as the substances they require can be conveniently procured. among the materials used by these singular grubs, well-known to fishermen by the name of _caddis-worms_, and to naturalists as the _larvæ_ of the four-winged flies in the order _trichoptera_ of kirby and spence, we may mention sand, stones, shells, wood, and leaves, which are skilfully joined and strongly cemented. one of these grubs forms a pretty case of leaves glued together longitudinally, but leaving an aperture sufficiently large for the inhabitant to put out its head and shoulders when it wishes to look about for food. another employs pieces of reed cut into convenient lengths, or of grass, straw, wood, &c., carefully joining and cementing each piece to its fellow as the work proceeds; and he frequently finishes the whole by adding a broad piece longer than the rest to shade his door-way overhead, so that he may not be seen from above. a more laborious structure is reared by the grub of a beautiful caddis-fly (_phryganea_), which weaves together a group of the leaves of aquatic plants into a roundish ball, and in the interior of this forms a cell for its abode. the fallowing figure from roesel will give a more precise notion of this structure than a lengthened description. [illustration] another of these aquatic architects makes choice of the tiny shells of young fresh-water mussels and snails (_planorbis_), to form a moveable grotto; and as these little shells are for the most part inhabited, he keeps the poor animals close prisoners, and drags them without mercy along with him. these grotto-building grubs are by no means uncommon in ponds; and in chalk districts, such as the country about woolwich and gravesend, they are very abundant. [illustration: shell nests of caddis-worms.] one of the most surprising instances of their skill occurs in the structures of which small stones are the principal material. the problem is to make a tube about the width of the hollow of a wheat-straw or a crow-quill, and equally smooth and uniform. now the materials being small stones full of angles and irregularities, the difficulty of performing this problem will appear to be considerable, if not insurmountable: yet the little architects, by patiently examining their stones and turning them round on every side, never fail to accomplish their plans. this, however, is only part of the problem, which is complicated with another condition, and which we have not found recorded by former observers, namely, that the under-surface shall be flat and smooth, without any projecting angles which might impede its progress when dragged along the bottom of the rivulet where it resides. the selection of the stones, indeed, may be accounted for, from this species living in streams where, but for the weight of its house, it would to a certainty be swept away. for this purpose, it is probable that the grub makes choice of larger stones than it might otherwise want; and therefore also it is that we frequently find a case composed of very small stones and sand, to which, when nearly finished, a large stone is added by way of ballast. in other instances, when the materials are found to possess too great specific gravity, a bit of light wood, or a hollow straw, is added to buoy up the case. [illustration: stone nest of caddis-worm.] [illustration: sand nest balanced with a stone.] [illustration: nest of caddis-worm balanced with straws.] it is worthy of remark, that the cement, used in all these cases, is superior to pozzolana[bn] in standing water, in which it is indissoluble. the grubs themselves are also admirably adapted for their mode of life, the portion of their bodies which is always enclosed in the case being soft like a meal-worm, or garden-caterpillar, while the head and shoulders, which are for the most part projected beyond the door-way in search of food, are firm, hard, and consequently less liable to injury than the protected portion, should it chance to be exposed. we have repeatedly tried experiments with the inhabitants of those aquatic tents, to ascertain their mode of building. we have deprived them of their little houses, and furnished them with materials for constructing new ones, watching their proceedings from their laying the first stone or shell of the structure. they work at the commencement in a very clumsy manner, attaching a great number of chips to whatever materials may be within their reach with loose threads of silk, and many of these they never use at all in their perfect building. they act, indeed, much like an unskilful workman trying his hand before committing himself upon an intended work of difficult execution. their main intention is, however, to have abundance of materials within reach: for after their dwelling is fairly begun, they shut themselves up in it, and do not again protrude more than half of their body to procure materials; and even when they have dragged a stone, a shell, or a chip of reed within building reach, they have often to reject it as unfit. (j. r.) [we have here some examples of the latter kind of nest, _i. e._, those habitations which are made of stones and shells. beginning at the upper left-hand figure, we find one that is made of moderately-sized stones cemented together in a way that reminds the observer of the manner in which a builder forms irregular stones into a wall. next to it is another, in which the stones are larger and narrower, and are arranged much as some of the caddis-worms arrange pieces of stick and straw. in the second, and on the left-hand side, is a very long and simple tube, made of a grass stem, and balanced by three little sticks attached to its centre. the next figure represents a number of sand-tubes attached to each other. these are built up laboriously of single particles of sand, and are remarkable for their peculiar horn-like shape, the tube having the same regular curve as the horn of an ox or antelope, and tapering gradually from the base to the top. a somewhat similar tube, but of larger size, is shown in the right-hand figure. [illustration] any one who wishes to see one of these creatures rebuild its house can do so by carefully removing it from its tube, and supplying it with fresh material. very great care must be taken in the removal, as the grub is easily damaged, and it holds so tightly to the tube with a pair of pincers at the end of its body, that it must rather be coaxed than driven out. if desirable, they can be made to build their new houses of most singular materials. a lady, miss smee, was very successful in a series of experiments which she made with these insects, forcing them to make tubes of different colours and patterns, by supplying them with coloured sand, pieces of stained glass of various hues, gold dust, and similar materials. although there was scarcely any material which they would not use, they seemed to consider a certain amount of angularity as essential, and rejected any object, such as a bead, of which the surface was perfectly rounded, while they would accept the same, if it were broken or indented. when the caddis-grub has ceased from feeding, and is about to pass into the perfect stage, it spins over the mouth of the tube a strong silken web. this web is made in quite a pretty pattern, and being woven with rather wide meshes, it allows the water to flow through the tube while it prevents any aquatic foes from penetrating and destroying the pupa. the remaining figures of the illustration represent tubes, around which are built a quantity of small shells. generally, stones are mixed with the shells; but in some cases, shells seem to be almost the only material.] carpenter-caterpillars. insects, though sometimes actuated by an instinct apparently blind, unintelligent, or unknown to themselves, manifest in other instances a remarkable adaptation of means to ends. we have it in our power to exemplify this in a striking manner by the proceedings of the caterpillar of a goat-moth (_cossus ligniperda_) which we kept till it underwent its final change. this caterpillar, which abounds in kent and many other parts of the island, feeds on the wood of willows, oaks, poplars, and other trees, in which it eats extensive galleries; but it is not contented with the protection afforded by these galleries during the colder months of winter, before the arrival of which it scoops out a hollow in the tree, if it does not find one ready prepared, sufficiently large to contain its body in a bent or somewhat coiled-up position. on sawing off a portion of an old poplar in the winter of 1827, we found such a cell with a caterpillar coiled up in it. [illustration: caterpillar of goat-moth in a willow tree.] [illustration: winter nest of the goat-caterpillar.] it had not, however, been contented with the bare walls of the retreat which it had hewn out of the tree, for it had lined it with a fabric as thick as coarse broadcloth, and equally warm, composed of the raspings of the wood scooped out of the cell, united with the strong silk which every species of caterpillar can spin. in this snug retreat our caterpillar, if it had not been disturbed, would have spent the winter without eating; but upon being removed into a warm room and placed under a glass along with some pieces of wood, which it might eat if so inclined, it was roused for a time from its dormant state, and began to move about. it was not long, however, in constructing a new cell for itself, no less ingenious than the former. it either could not gnaw into the fir plank, where it was now placed with a glass above it, or it did not choose to do so; for it left it untouched, and made it the basis of the edifice it began to construct. it formed, in fact, a covering for itself precisely like the one from which we had dislodged it,--composed of raspings of wood detached for the purpose from what had been given it as food, the largest piece of which was employed as a substantial covering and protection for the whole. it remained in this retreat, motionless, and without food, till revived by the warmth of the ensuing spring, when it gnawed its way out, and began to eat voraciously, to make up for its long fast. [illustration: nest of goat-moth.--figured from specimen, and raised to show the pupa.] these caterpillars are three years in arriving at their final change into the winged state; but as the one just mentioned was nearly full grown, it began, in the month of may, to prepare a cell, in which it might undergo its metamorphosis. whether it had actually improved its skill in architecture by its previous experience we will not undertake to say, but its second cell was greatly superior to the first. in the first there was only one large piece of wood employed; in the second, two pieces were placed in such a manner as to support each other, and beneath the angle thus formed an oblong structure was made, composed, as before, of wood-raspings and silk, but much stronger in texture than the winter cell. in a few weeks (four, if we recollect aright) the moth came forth. (j. r.) [i have now before me a series of three cocoons, made by one caterpillar of the goat-moth, showing its increase in size during the three years that it remained in the larval state. they were found in an old willow tree, and occupied different parts of the same burrow. the ravages which a goat-moth caterpillar can make in a tree are almost incredible to those who have not seen the long and tortuous burrows which the insect will construct, burrows which at first are small and insignificant, but which afterwards become large enough to admit a man's finger. sometimes the tunnel runs just under the bark, and sometimes it goes straight towards the centre of the tree; and no small labour is required before it can be fully traced. still, the result is worth the labour, for it is most interesting to trace the creature through its whole existence, from the tiny hole which it made soon after its exit from the egg, to the large aperture through which it emerged as a moth. the whole of the tunnel is strongly imbued with the peculiar and unpleasant odour which has given to the goat-moth its popular name; and the scent is so persistent, that it adheres to the fingers which have touched the sides of the tunnel, and can scarcely be removed even by repeated washings. the moth itself is a well-known insect, though rarely seen except by night. it is large, brown, round bodied; the wings are covered with a soft and downy clothing, which strongly reminds the observer of the plumage of an owl.] a wood-boring caterpillar, of a species of moth much rarer than the preceding (_ægeria asiliformis_, stephens), exhibits great ingenuity in constructing a cell for its metamorphosis. we observed above a dozen of them during this summer (1829) in the trunk of a poplar, one side of which had been stripped of its bark. it was this portion of the trunk which all the caterpillars selected for their final retreat, not one having been observed where the tree was covered with bark. the ingenuity of the little architect consisted in scooping its cell almost to the very surface of the wood, leaving only an exterior covering of unbroken wood, as thin as writing-paper. previous, therefore, to the chrysalis making its way through this feeble barrier, it could not have been suspected that an insect was lodged under the smooth wood. we observed more than one of these in the act of breaking through this covering, within which there is, besides, a round moveable lid of a sort of brown wax. (j. r.) [illustration: larva of ægeria.] another architect caterpillar, frequently to be met with in july on the leaves of the willow and the poplar, is, in the fly-state, called the puss-moth (_cerura vinula_). the caterpillar is produced from brown-coloured shining eggs, about the size of a pin's head, which are deposited--one, two, or more together--on the upper surface of a leaf. in the course of six or eight weeks (during which time it casts its skin thrice) it arrives at its full growth, when it is about as thick, and nearly as long, as a man's thumb, and begins to prepare a structure in which the pupa may sleep securely during the winter. as we have, oftener than once, seen this little architect at work, from the foundation till the completion of its edifice, we are thereby enabled to give the details of the process. [illustration: eggs of the puss-moth.] [illustration: rudiments of the cell of the puss-moth.] the puss, it may be remarked, does not depend for protection on the hole of a tree, or the shelter of an overhanging branch, but upon the solidity and strength of the fabric which it rears. the material it commonly uses is the bark of the tree upon which the cell is constructed; but when this cannot be procured, it is contented to employ whatever analogous materials may be within reach. one which we had shut up in a box substituted the marble paper it was lined with for bark, which it could not procure.[bo] with silk it first wove a thin web round the edges of the place which it marked out for its edifice, then it ran several threads in a spare manner from side to side, and from end to end, but very irregularly in point of arrangement; these were intended for the skeleton or framework of the building. when this outline was finished, the next step was to strengthen each thread of silk by adding several (sometimes six or eight) parallel ones, all of which were then glued together into a single thread, by the insect running its mandibles, charged with gluten, along the line. the meshes, or spaces, which were thus widened by the compression of the parallel threads, were immediately filled up with fresh threads, till at length only very small spaces were left. it was in this stage of the operation that the paper came into requisition, small portions of it being gnawed off the box and glued into the meshes. it was not, however, into the meshes only that the bits of paper were inserted; for the whole fabric was in the end thickly studded over with them. in about half a day from the first thread of the framework being spun the building was completed. it was at first, however, rather soft, and yielded to slight pressure with the finger; but as soon as it became thoroughly dry, it was so hard that it could with difficulty be penetrated with the point of a penknife. (j. r.) [one puss-moth larva, which i reared, made its nest in a rather curious manner. after it had ceased feeding it had been placed on a marble mantelpiece under a glass tumbler, as a temporary residence until a more appropriate dwelling could be found for it. but its instincts urged it to make its nest without delay, and it accordingly set to work, and spun itself up in a cocoon composed entirely of its own silk, neither the glass tumbler or the mantelpiece affording it any material with which to harden the walls of its dwelling. [illustration: cell built by the larva of the puss-moth.] consequently, the texture of the cocoon was of a rather singular nature. the silken threads had been fused together so as to form a translucent cocoon, looking as if it had been made of gelatine, and being nearly equally transparent, the chrysalis being plainly visible through its walls. the cocoon was thin and elastic, as if it had been made of very thin horn; and it was so tightly fixed to the mantelpiece as well as to the tumbler, that it could not be removed without damage. the moth suffered no injury from the privation which the larva had to undergo. the cocoons of the puss-moth are to be found upon the trunks of trees, but they are so rough, and so greatly resembling the bark, with which, indeed, their walls are strengthened, that an inexperienced eye would fail to detect them. even when they have been pointed out to a novice in practical entomology, he has failed to find them again whenever his eye has been taken off their rugged outlines.] a question will here suggest itself to the curious inquirer, how the moth, which is not, like the caterpillar, furnished with mandibles for gnawing, can find its way through so hard a wall. to resolve this question, it is asserted by recent naturalists (see kirby and spence, vol. iii. p. 15) that the moth is furnished with a peculiar acid for dissolving itself a passage. we have a specimen of the case of a puss-moth, in which, notwithstanding its strength, one of the ichneumons had contrived to deposit its eggs. in the beginning of summer, when we expected the moth to appear, and felt anxious to observe the recorded effects of the acid, we were astonished to find a large orange cuckoo-fly make its escape; while another, which attempted to follow, stuck by the way and died. on detaching the cell from the box, we found several others, which had not been able to get out, and had died in their cocoons. (j. r.) [illustration: ichneumon (_cphion luteum_), figured from the one mentioned.] among the carpenter-grubs may be mentioned that of the purple capricorn-beetle (_callidium violaceum_), of which the rev. mr. kirby has given an interesting account in the fifth volume of the 'linnæan transactions.' this insect feeds principally on fir timber which has been felled some time without having had the bark stripped off; but it is often found on other wood. though occasionally taken in this kingdom, it is supposed not to have been originally a native. the circumstance of this destructive little animal attacking only such timber as had not been stripped of its bark ought to be attended to by all persons who have any concern in this article; for the bark is a temptation not only to this, but to various other insects; and much of the injury done in timber might be prevented, if the trees were all barked as soon as they were felled. the female is furnished, at the posterior extremity of her body, with a flat retractile tube, which she inserts between the bark and the wood, to the depth of about a quarter of an inch, and there deposits a single egg. by stripping off the bark, it is easy to trace the whole progress of the grub, from the spot where it is hatched, to that where it attains its full size. it first proceeds in a serpentine direction, filling the space which it leaves with its excrement, resembling sawdust, and so stopping all ingress to enemies from without. when it has arrived at its utmost dimensions, it does not confine itself to one direction, but works in a kind of labyrinth, eating backwards and forwards, which gives the wood under the bark a very irregular surface: by this means its paths are rendered of considerable width. the bed of its paths exhibits, when closely examined, a curious appearance, occasioned by the gnawings of its jaws, which excavate an infinity of little ramified canals. when the insect is about to assume its chrysalis state, it bores down obliquely into the solid wood, to the depth sometimes of three inches, and seldom if ever less than two, forming holes nearly semi-cylindrical, and of exactly the form of the grub which inhabits them. at first sight one would wonder how so small and seemingly so weak an animal could have strength to excavate so deep a mine; but when we examine its jaws, our wonder ceases. these are large, thick, and solid sections of a cone divided longitudinally, which, in the act of chewing, apply to each other the whole of their interior plane surface, so that they grind the insect's food like a pair of millstones. some of the grubs are hatched in october; and it is supposed that about the beginning of march they assume their chrysalis state. at the place in the bark opposite to the hole from whence they descended into the wood, the perfect insects gnaw their way out, which generally takes place betwixt the middle of may and the middle of june. these insects are supposed only to fly in the night, but during the day they may generally be found resting on the wood from which they were disclosed. the grubs are destitute of feet, pale, folded, somewhat hairy, convex above, and divided into thirteen segments. their head is large and convex.[bp] [illustration: magnified cells of pyralis strigulalis? _a._ the walls before they are joined. _b._ walls joined, but not closed at top. _c._ side view of structure complete.] it would not be easy to find a more striking example of ingenuity than occurs in a small caterpillar which may be found in may, on the oak, and is supposed by kirby and spence to be that of the _pyralis strigulalis_. it is of a whitish-yellow colour, tinged with a shade of carnation, and studded with tufts of red hairs on each segment, and two brown spots behind the head. it has fourteen feet, and the upper part of its body is much flatter than is common in caterpillars. when this ingenious little insect begins to form its cell, it selects a smooth young branch of the oak, near an offgoing of the branchlets whose angle may afford it some protection. it then measures out, with its body for a rule, the space destined for its structure, the basement of which is of a triangular form, with the apex at the lower end. the building itself is composed of small, rectangular, strap-shaped pieces of the outer bark of the branch cut out from the immediate vicinity; the insect indeed never travels further for materials than the length of its own body. upon the two longest sides of the triangular base it builds uniform walls, also of a triangular shape, and both gradually diverging from each other as they increase in height. these are formed with so much mathematical precision, that they fit exactly when they are afterwards brought into contact. as soon as the little architect has completed these walls, which resemble very much the feathers of an arrow, it proceeds to draw them together in a manner similar to that which the leaf-rolling caterpillars employ in constructing their abodes, by pulling them with silken cords till they bend and converge. even when the two longest sides are thus joined, there is an opening left at the upper end, which is united in a similar manner. when the whole is finished, it requires close inspection to distinguish it from the branch, being formed of the same materials, and having consequently the same colour and gloss. concealment, indeed, may be supposed, with some justice, to be the final object of the insect in producing this appearance, the same principle being extensively exemplified in numerous other instances. _chapter xi._ earth-mason caterpillars. many species of caterpillars are not only skilful in concealing themselves in their cocoons, but also in the concealment of the cocoon itself; so that even when that is large, as in the instance of the death's-head hawk-moth (_acherontia atropos_), it is almost impossible to find it. we allude to the numerous class of caterpillars which, previous to their changing into the pupa state, bury themselves in the earth. this circumstance would not be surprising, were it confined to those which are but too well known in gardens, from their feeding upon and destroying the roots of lettuce, chicory, and other plants, as they pass a considerable portion of their lives under ground; nor is it surprising that those which retire under ground during the day, and come abroad to feed in the night, should form their cocoons where they have been in the habit of concealing themselves. but it is very singular and unexpected, that caterpillars which pass the whole of their life on plants and even on trees, should afterwards bury themselves in the earth. yet, the fact is, that perhaps a greater number make their cocoons under than above ground, particularly those which are not clothed with hair. some of those caterpillars which go into the ground previous to their change make no cocoon at all, but are contented with a rude masonry of earth as a nest for their pupæ: into the details of their operations it will not be so necessary for us to go, as into those which exhibit more ingenuity and care. when one of the latter is dug up it has the appearance of nothing more than a small clod of earth, of a roundish or oblong shape, but, generally, by no means uniform. the interior, however, when it is laid open, always exhibits a cavity, smooth, polished, and regular, in which the cocoon or the chrysalis lies secure (fig. b, p. 221). the polish of the interior is precisely such as might be given to soft earth by moistening and kneading it with great care. but beside this, it is usually lined with a tapestry of silk, more or less thick, though this cannot always be discovered without the aid of a magnifying glass. this species of caterpillars, as soon as they have completed their growth, go into the earth, scoop out, as the cossus does in wood, a hollow cell of an oblong form, and line it with pellets of earth, from the size of a grain of sand to that of a pea--united, by silk or gluten, into a fabric more or less compact, according to the species, but all of them fitted for protecting the inhabitant, during its winter sleep, against cold and moisture. [illustration: outside view of nests of earth-mason caterpillars.] one of the examples of this occurs in the ghost-moth (_hepialus humuli_), which, before it retires into the earth, feeds upon the roots of the hop or the burdock. like other insects which construct cells under ground, it lines the cemented earthen walls of its cell with a smooth tapestry of silk, as closely woven as the web of the house-spider. inaccurate observers have inferred that these earthen structures were formed by a very rude and unskilful process--the caterpillar, according to them, doing nothing more than roll itself round, while the mould adhered to the gluey perspiration with which they describe its body to be covered. this is a process as far from the truth as aristotle's account of the spider spinning its web from wool taken from its body. did the caterpillar do nothing more than roll itself in the earth, the cavity would be a long tube fitted exactly to its body (fig. c): it is essentially different. [illustration: nests, &c., of an earth-mason caterpillar.] it does not indeed require very minute observation to perceive that every grain of earth in the structure is united to the contiguous grains by threads of silk; and that consequently, instead of the whole having been done at once, it must have required very considerable time and labour. this construction is rendered more obvious by throwing one of these earthen cases into water, which dissolves the earth, but does not act on the silk which binds it together. to understand how this is performed, it may not be uninteresting to follow the little mason from the beginning of his task. when one of those burrowing caterpillars has done feeding, it enters the earth to the depth of several inches, till it finds mould fit for its purpose. having nowhere to throw the earth which it may dig out, the only means in its power of forming a cavity is to press it with its body; and, by turning round and round for this purpose, an oblong hollow is soon made. but were it left in this state, as réaumur well remarks, though the vault might endure the requisite time by the viscosity of the earth alone, were no change to take place in its humidity, yet, as a great number are wanted to hold out for six, eight, and ten months, they require to be substantially built; a mere lining of silk, therefore, would not be sufficient, and it becomes necessary to have the walls bound with silk to some thickness. when a caterpillar cannot find earth sufficiently moist to bear kneading into the requisite consistence, it has the means of moistening it with a fluid which it ejects for the purpose; and as soon as it has thus prepared a small pellet of earth, it fits it into the wall of the vault, and secures it with silk. as the little mason, however, always works on the _inside_ of the building, it does not, at first view, appear in what manner it can procure materials for making one or two additional walls on the inside of the one first built. as the process takes place under ground, it is not easy to discover the particulars, for the caterpillars will not work in glazed boxes. the difficulty was completely overcome by m. réaumur, in the instance of the caterpillar of the water-betony moth (_cucullia scrophulariæ_, schrank), which he permitted to construct the greater part of its underground building, and then dug it up and broke a portion off from the end, leaving about a third part of the whole to be rebuilt. those who are unacquainted with the instinct of insects might have supposed that, being disturbed by the demolition of its walls, it would have left off work; but the stimulus of providing for the great change is so powerful, that scarcely any disturbance will interrupt a caterpillar in this species of labour. [illustration: earth-mason caterpillars' nests, with the perfect moth, &c.] the little builder accordingly was not long in recommencing its task for the purpose of repairing the disorder, which it accomplished in about four hours. at first it protruded its body almost entirely beyond the breach which had been made, to reconnoitre the exterior for building materials. earth was put within its reach, of the same kind as it had previously used, and it was not long in selecting a grain adapted to its purpose, which it fitted into the wall and secured with silk. it first enlarged the outside of the wall by the larger and coarser grains, and then selected finer for the interior. but before it closed the aperture, it collected a quantity of earth on the inside, wove a pretty thick net-work tapestry of silk over the part which remained open, and into the meshes of this, by pushing and pressing, it thrust grains of earth, securing them with silk till the whole was rendered opaque; and the further operations of the insect could no longer be watched, except that it was observed to keep in motion, finishing, no doubt, the silken tapestry of the interior of its little chamber. when it was completed, m. réaumur ascertained that the portion of the structure which had been built under his eye was equally thick and compact with the other, which had been done under ground. the grubs of several of the numerous species of may-fly (_ephemera_) excavate burrows for themselves in soft earth, on the banks of rivers and canals, under the level of the water, an operation well described by scopoli, swammerdam, and réaumur. the excavations are always proportioned to the size of the inhabitant; and consequently, when it is young and small, the hole is proportionally small, though, with respect to extent, it is always at least double the length of its body. the hole, being under the level of the river, is always filled with water, so that the grub swims in its native element, and while it is secure from being preyed upon by fishes, it has its own food within easy reach. it feeds, in fact, if we may judge from its _egesta_, upon the slime or moistened clay with which its hole is lined. in the bank of the stream at lee, in kent, we had occasion to take up an old willow stump, which, previous to its being driven into the bank, had been perforated in numerous places by the caterpillar of the goat-moth (_cossus ligniperda_). from having been driven amongst the moist clay, these perforations became filled with it, and the grubs of the ephemeræ found them very suitable for their habitation: for the wood supplied a more secure protection than if their galleries had been excavated in the clay. in these holes of the wood we found several empty, and some in which were full-grown grubs. (j. r.) the architecture of the grub of a pretty genus of beetles, known to entomologists by the name of _cincindela_, is peculiarly interesting. it was first made known by the eminent french naturalists, geoffroy, desmarest, and latreille. this grub, which may be met with during spring, and also in summer and autumn, in sandy places, is long, cylindric, soft whitish, and furnished with six scaly brown feet. the head is of a square form, with six or eight eyes, and very large in proportion to the body. they have strong jaws, and on the eighth joint of the body there are two fleshy tubercles, thickly clothed with reddish hairs, and armed with a recurved horny spine, the whole giving to the grub the form of the letter z. [illustration: nest of the grubs of ephemeræ. a, the grub. b, perforations in a river bank. c, one laid open to show the parallel structure.] [illustration: nests of ephemeræ in holes of cossus.] with their jaws and feet they dig into the earth to the depth of eighteen inches, forming a cylindrical cavity of greater diameter than their body, and furnished with a perpendicular entrance. in constructing this, the grub first clears away the particles of earth and sand by placing them on its broad trapezoidal head, and carrying the load in this manner beyond the area of the excavation. when it gets deeper down, it climbs gradually up to the surface with similar loads by means of the tubercles on its back, above described. this process is a work of considerable time and difficulty, and in carrying its loads the insect has often to rest by the way to recover strength for a renewed exertion. not unfrequently, it finds the soil so ill adapted to its operations, that it abandons the task altogether, and begins anew in another situation. when it has succeeded in forming a complete den, it fixes itself at the entrance by the hooks of its tubercles, which are admirably adapted for the purpose, forming a fulcrum or support, while the broad plate on the top of the head exactly fits the aperture of the excavation, and is on a level with the soil. in this position the grub remains immovable, with jaws expanded, and ready to seize and devour every insect which may wander within its reach, particularly the smaller beetles; and its voracity is so great, that it does not spare even its own species. it precipitates its prey into the excavation, and in case of danger it retires to the bottom of its den, a circumstance which renders it not a little difficult to discover the grub. the method adopted by the french naturalists was to introduce a straw or pliant twig into the hole, while they dug away, by degrees and with great care, the earth around it, and usually found the grub at the bottom of the cell, resting in a zig-zag position like one of the caterpillars of the geometric moths. when it is about to undergo its transformation into a pupa, it carefully closes the mouth of the den, and retires to the bottom in security. it does not appear that the grub of the genus _cincindela_ uses the excavation just described for the purpose of a trap or pitfall, any further than that it can more effectually secure its prey by tumbling them down into it; but there are other species of grubs which construct pitfalls for the express purpose of traps. among these is the larva of a fly (_rhagio vermileo_), not unlike the common flesh maggot. the den which it constructs is in the form of a funnel, the sides of which are composed of sand or loose earth. it forms this pitfall of considerable depth, by throwing out the earth obliquely on all sides; and when its trap is finished, it stretches itself along the bottom, remaining stiff and motionless, like a piece of wood. the last segment of the body is bent at an angle with the rest, so as to form a strong point of support in the struggles which it must often have to encounter with vigorous prey. the instant that an insect tumbles into the pitfall, the grub pounces upon it, writhes itself round it like a serpent, transfixes it with its jaws, and sucks its juices at its ease. should the prey by any chance escape, the grub hurls up jets of sand and earth, with astonishing rapidity and force, and not unfrequently succeeds in again precipitating it to the bottom of its trap. the ant-lion. the observations of the continental naturalists have made known to us a pitfall constructed by an insect, the details of whose operations are exceedingly curious; we refer to the grub of the ant-lion (_myrmeleon formicarius_), which, though marked by dr. turton and mr. stewart as british, has not (at least of late years) been found in this country. as it is not, however, uncommon in france and switzerland, it is probable it may yet be discovered in some spot hitherto unexplored, and if so, it will well reward the search of the curious. the ant-lion grub being of a grey colour, and having its body composed of rings, is not unlike a wood-louse (_oniscus_), though it is larger, more triangular, has only six legs, and most formidable jaws, in form of a reaping-hook, or a pair of calliper compasses. these jaws, however, are not for masticating, but are perforated and tubular, for the purpose of sucking the juices of ants, upon which it feeds. vallisnieri was therefore mistaken, as réaumur well remarks, when he supposed that he had discovered its mouth. its habits require that it should walk backwards, and this is the only species of locomotion which it can perform. even this sort of motion it executes very slowly; and were it not for the ingenuity of its stratagems, it would fare but sparingly, since its chief food consists of ants, whose activity and swiftness of foot would otherwise render it impossible for it to make a single capture. nature, however, in this, as in nearly every other case, has given a compensating power to the individual animal, to balance its privations. the ant-lion is slow, but it is extremely sagacious; it cannot follow its prey, but it can entrap it. [illustration: grub of the ant-lion, magnified, with one perfect trap, and another begun.] the snare which the grub of the ant-lion employs consists of a funnel-shaped excavation formed in loose sand, at the bottom of which it lies in wait for the ants that chance to stumble over the margin, and cannot, from the looseness of the walls, gain a sufficient footing to effect their escape. by shutting up one of these grubs in a box with loose sand, it has been repeatedly observed constructing its trap of various dimensions, from one to nearly three inches in diameter, according to circumstances. in the 'magazine of natural history,' 1838, p. 601, mr. westwood gives a very interesting account of the mode in which the ant-lion proceeds in the excavation of its pitfall, as witnessed by himself in specimens procured in the parc de belle vue, near paris, where, at the foot of a very high sand-bank, these pits were numerous, and of various sizes, but none exceeded an inch and a half or two inches in diameter, and two-thirds of an inch deep. "the ant-lions were of various sizes, corresponding to the size of their retreats. i brought many of them to paris, placing several together in a box filled with sand. they, however, destroyed one another whilst shut up in these boxes; and i only succeeded in bringing three of them alive to england, one of which almost immediately afterwards (on the 23rd of july) enclosed itself in a globular cocoon of fine sand. the other two afforded me many opportunities of observing their proceedings. they were unable to walk forwards,--an anomalous circumstance, and not often met with in animals furnished with well-developed legs. it is generally backwards, working in a spiral direction, that the creature moves, pushing itself backwards and downwards at the same time, the head being carried horizontally, and the back much arched, so that the extremity of the body is forced into the sand. in this manner it proceeds backwards (to use an hibernianism), forming little mole-hills in the sand. but it does not appear to me that this retrograde motion has anything to do with the actual formation of the cell, since, as soon as it has fixed upon a spot for its retreat, it commences throwing up the sand with the back of its head, jerking the sand either behind its back or on one or the other side. it shuts its long jaws, forming them into a kind of shovel, the sharp edges of which it thrusts laterally into the sand on each side of its head, and thereby contrives to lodge a quantity of the sand upon the head as well as the jaws. the motion is in fact something like that of the head of a goat, especially when butting sideways in play. in this manner it contrives to throw away the sand, and by degrees to make a hole entirely with its head, the fore legs not affording the slightest assistance in the operation. during this performance the head only is exposed, the insect having previously pushed itself beneath the surface of the sand; but when it has made the hole sufficiently deep, it withdraws the head also, leaving only the jaws exposed, which are spread open in a line, and laid on the sand so as to be scarcely visible. if alarmed, the insect immediately takes a step backwards, withdrawing the jaws; but when an insect falls into the hole, the jaws are instinctively and instantaneously closed, and the insect seized by the leg, wing, or body, just as it may chance to fall within the reach of the ant-lion's jaws. if, however, the insect be not seized, but attempts to escape, no matter in what direction, the ant-lion immediately begins twisting its head about, and shovelling up the sand with the greatest agility, jerking it about on each side and backwards, but never forwards, as misrepresented in some figures, until the hole is made so much deeper, and such a disturbance caused in the sides of the hole, that the insect is almost sure to be brought down to the bottom, when it is seized by the ant-lion, which immediately endeavours to draw it beneath the sand; and if it be very boisterous, the ant-lion beats it about, holding it firmly by the jaws until it is too weak for further resistance. hence, as the head of the ant-lion is immersed in the sand, it is evident that the accounts given in popular works of the instinct by which it throws the sand in the direction of the escaping prey are not quite correct. the act of throwing up the sand, when an insect has fallen into the pit and attempts to escape, has evidently for its chief object that of making the pit deeper and more conical, and therefore more difficult of ascent." [illustration: ant-lion's pitfalls, in an experimenting-box.] it is by the action of the hinder pair of its legs that the ant-lion drags itself backwards, the other four pair being extended trailing after it, and leaving an impression on the surface of the fine sand over which it has passed; and when burrowing its way beneath the surface of the sand, it proceeds by short steps backwards. a portion of sand at each step is thrown on the head, owing to the hump-like form of the back: this is immediately jerked away, the body at the same time advancing another step in its backward and spiral motion. where it rests, a little hillock of sand is raised by the body of the ant-lion underneath; while its jaws emerge and spread flat on the surface. it now probably commences its pitfall, the mode of excavating which we have given in detail. from the spiral course described by the ant-lion in its backward progress appears to have arisen the idea of its tracing out a circle as the outline of its pitfall--as would an architect or engineer; but whence sprang the often-repeated statement, that the ant-lion loads its head with sand by means of one of its legs, that nearest the centre of the circle, we cannot conjecture. nor do we know how, as it works entirely buried with the exception of the head, the ant-lion can act when it meets with a stone or other obstacle, as m. bonnet states he has repeatedly witnessed. he observes that if the stone be small, it can manage to jerk it out in the same manner as the sand; but when it is two or three times larger and heavier than its own body, it must have recourse to other means of removal. the larger stones it usually leaves till the last; and when it has removed all the sand which it intends, it then proceeds to try what it can do with the less manageable obstacles. for this purpose it crawls backwards to the place where a stone may be, and thrusting its tail under it, is at great pains to get it properly balanced on its back, by an alternate motion of the rings composing its body. when it has succeeded in adjusting the stone, it crawls up the side of the pit with great care, and deposits its burthen on the outside of the circle. should the stone happen to be round, the balance can be kept only with the greatest difficulty, as it has to travel with its load upon a slope of loose sand, which is ready to give way at every step; and often when the insect has carried it to the very brink, it rolls off its back and tumbles down to the bottom of the pit. this accident, so far from discouraging the ant-lion, only stimulates it to more persevering efforts. bonnet observed it renew these attempts to dislodge a stone five or six times. it is only when it finds it utterly impossible to succeed, that it abandons the design and commences another pit in a fresh situation. when it succeeds in getting a stone beyond the line of its circle, it is not contented with letting it rest there; but, to prevent it from again rolling in, it goes on to push it to a considerable distance. we maybe pardoned for pausing before we give full credence to these details. the ant-lion feeds only on the blood or juice of insects; and as soon as it has extracted these, it tosses the dry carcase out of its den. when it is about to change into a pupa, it proceeds in nearly the same manner as the caterpillar of the water-betony moth (_cucullia scrophulariæ_). it first builds a case of sand, the particles of which are secured by threads of silk, and then tapestries the whole with a silken web. within this it undergoes its transformation into a pupa, and in due time it emerges in form of a four-winged fly, closely resembling the dragon-flies (_libellulæ_), vulgarly and erroneously called _horse-stingers_. the instance of the ant-lion naturally leads us to consider the design of the author of nature in so nicely adjusting, in all animals, the means of destruction and of escape. as the larger quadrupeds of prey are provided with a most ingenious machinery for preying on the weaker, so are those furnished with the most admirable powers of evading their destroyers. in the economy of insects, we constantly observe that the means of defence, not only of the individual creatures, but of their larvæ and pupæ, against the attacks of other insects, and of birds, is proportioned, in the ingenuity of their arrangements, to the weakness of the insect employing them. those species which multiply the quickest have the greatest number of enemies. bradley, an english naturalist, has calculated that two sparrows carry, in the course of a week, above three thousand caterpillars to the young in their nests. but though this is, probably, much beyond the truth, it is certain that there is a great and constant destruction of individuals going forward; and yet the species is never destroyed. in this way a balance is kept up, by which one portion of animated nature cannot usurp the means of life and enjoyment which the world offers to another portion. in all matters relating to reproduction, nature is prodigal in her arrangements. insects have more stages to pass through before they attain their perfect growth than other creatures. the continuation of the species is, therefore, in many cases, provided for by a much larger number of eggs being deposited than ever become fertile. how many larvæ are produced, in comparison with the number which pass into the pupa state; and how many pupæ perish before they become perfect insects! every garden is covered with caterpillars; and yet how few moths and butterflies, comparatively, are seen, even in the most sunny season? insects which lay few eggs are, commonly, most remarkable in their contrivances for their preservation. the dangers to which insect life is exposed are manifold; and therefore are the contrivances for its preservation of the most perfect kind, and invariably adapted to the peculiar habits of each tribe. the same wisdom determines the food of every species of insect; and thus some are found to delight in the rose-tree, and some in the oak. had it been otherwise, the balance of vegetable life would not have been preserved. it is for this reason that the contrivances which an insect employs for obtaining its food are curious, in proportion to the natural difficulties of its structure. the ant-lion is carnivorous, but he has not the quickness of the spider, nor can he spread a net over a large surface, and issue from his citadel to seize a victim which he has caught in his out-works. he is therefore taught to dig a trap, where he sits like the unwieldy giants of fable, waiting for some feeble one to cross his path. how laborious and patient are his operations--how uncertain the chances of success! yet he never shrinks from them, because his instinct tells him that by these contrivances alone can he preserve his own existence, and continue that of his species. _chapter xii._ clothes-moth and other tent-making caterpillars.--leaf and bark miners. there are at least five different species of moths similar in manners and economy, the caterpillars of which feed upon animal substances, such as furs, woollen cloths, silk, leather, and, what to the naturalist is no less vexing, upon the specimens of insects and other animals preserved in his cabinet. the moths in question are of the family named _tinea_ by entomologists, such as the tapestry-moth (_tinea tapetzella_), the fur-moth (_tinea pellionella_), the wool-moth (_tinea vestianella_), the cabinet-moth (_tinea destructor_, stephens), &c. the moths themselves are, in the winged state, small and well fitted for making their way through the most minute hole or chink, so that it is scarcely possible to exclude them by the closeness of a wardrobe or a cabinet.[bq] if they cannot effect an entrance when a drawer is out, or a door open, they will contrive to glide through the key-hole; and if they once get in, it is no easy matter to dislodge or destroy them, for they are exceedingly agile, and escape out of sight in a moment. moufet is of opinion that the ancients possessed an effectual method of preserving stuffs from the moth, because the robes of servius tullius were preserved up to the death of sejanus, a period of more than five hundred years. on turning to pliny to learn this secret, we find him relating that stuff laid upon a coffin will be ever after safe from moths; in the same way as a person once stung by a scorpion will never afterwards be stung by a bee, or a wasp, or a hornet! rhasis, again, says that cantharides suspended in a house drive away moths; and he adds that they will not touch anything wrapped in a lion's skin!--the poor little insects, says réaumur, sarcastically, being probably in bodily fear of so terrible an animal.[br] such are the stories which fill the imagination even of philosophers, till real science entirely expels them. the effluvium of camphor or turpentine, or fumigation by sulphur or chlorine, may sometimes kill them, when in the winged state, but this will have no effect upon their eggs, and seldom upon the caterpillars; for they wrap themselves up too closely to be easily reached by any agent except heat. this, when it can be conveniently applied, will be certain either to dislodge or to kill them. when the effluvium of turpentine, however, reaches the caterpillar, bonnet says it falls into convulsions, becomes covered with livid blotches, and dies.[bs] the mother insect takes care to deposit her eggs on or near such substances as she instinctively foreknows will be best adapted for the food of the young, taking care to distribute them so that there may be a plentiful supply and enough of room for each. we have found, for example, some of those caterpillars feeding upon the shreds of cloth used in training wall-fruit trees; but we never saw more than two caterpillars on one shred. this scattering of the eggs in many places renders the effects of the caterpillars more injurious, from their attacking many parts of a garment or a piece of stuff at the same time. (j. r.) when one of the caterpillars of this family issues from the egg, its first care is to provide itself with a domicile, which indeed seems no less indispensable to it than food; for, like all caterpillars that feed under cover, it will not eat while it remains unprotected. its mode of building is very similar to that which is employed by other caterpillars that make use of extraneous materials. the foundation or framework is made of silk secreted by itself, and into this it interweaves portions of the material upon which it feeds. it is said by bingley, that "after having spun a fine coating of silk _immediately around its body_, it cuts the filaments of the wool or fur close by the thread of the cloth, or by the skin, with its teeth, which act in the manner of scissors, into convenient lengths, and applies the bits, one by one, with great dexterity, to the _outside_ of its silken case."[bt] this statement, however, is erroneous, and inconsistent with the proceedings not only of the clothes-moth, but of every caterpillar that constructs a covering. none of these build from within outwards, but uniformly commence with the exterior wall, and finish by lining the interior with the finest materials. réaumur, however, found that the newly-hatched caterpillars lived at first in a case of silk. we have repeatedly witnessed the proceedings of these insects from the very foundation of their structures; and, at the moment of writing this, we turned out one from the carcase of an "old lady moth" (_mormo maura_, ochsenheim) in our cabinet, and placed it on a desk covered with green cloth, where it might find materials for constructing another dwelling. it wandered about for half a day before it began its operations; but it did not, as is asserted by bonnet, and kirby and spence, "in moving from place to place, seem to be as much incommoded by the long hairs which surround it, as we are by walking amongst high grass," nor, "accordingly, marching scythe in hand," did it, "with its teeth, cut out a smooth road."[bu] on contrary, it did not cut a single hair till it selected one for the foundation of its intended structure. this it cut very near the cloth, in order, we suppose, to have it as long as possible; and placed it on a line with its body. it then immediately cut another, and placing it parallel to the first, bound both together with a few threads of its own silk. the same process was repeated with other hairs, till the little creature had made a fabric of some thickness, and this it went on to extend till it was large enough to cover its body; which (as is usual with caterpillars) it employed as a model and measure for regulating its operations. we remarked that it made choice of longer hairs for the outside than for the parts of the interior, which it thought necessary to strengthen by fresh additions; but the chamber was ultimately finished by a fine and closely-woven tapestry of silk. we could see the progress of its work by looking into the opening at either of the ends; for at this stage of the structure the walls are quite opaque, and the insect concealed. it may be thus observed to turn round, by doubling itself and bringing its head where the tail had just been; of course, the interior is left wide enough for this purpose, and the centre, indeed, where it turns, is always wider than the extremities. (j. r.) [illustration: cases, &c., of the clothes-moth (_tinea pellionella_).--_a_. caterpillar feeding in a case, which has been lengthened by ovals of different colours; _b_. case cut at the ends for experiment; _c_. case cut open by the insect for enlarging it; _d_, _e_. the clothes-moths in their perfect state, when, as they cease to eat, they do no further injury.] when the caterpillar increases in length, it takes care to add to the length of its house, by working in fresh hairs at either end; and if it be shifted to stuffs of different colours, it may be made to construct a party-coloured tissue, like a scotch plaid. réaumur cut off with scissors a portion at each end, to compel the insect to make up the deficiency. but the caterpillar increases in thickness as well as in length, so that, its first house becoming too narrow, it must either enlarge it, or build a new one. it prefers the former as less troublesome, and accomplishes its purpose "as dexterously," says bonnet, "as any tailor, and sets to work precisely as we should do, slitting the case on the two opposite sides, and then adroitly inserting between them two pieces of the requisite size. it does not, however, cut open the case from one end to the other at once; the sides would separate too far asunder, and the insect be left naked. it therefore first cuts each side about half-way down, beginning sometimes at the centre and sometimes at the end (fig. _c_), and then, after having filled up the fissure, proceeds to cut the remaining half; so that, in fact, four enlargements are made, and four separate pieces inserted. the colour of the case is always the same as that of the stuff from which it is taken. thus, if its original colour be blue, and the insect, previously to enlarging it, be put upon red cloth, the circles at the end, and two stripes down the middle, will be red."[bv] réaumur found that they cut these enlargements in no precise order, but sometimes continuously, and sometimes opposite each other, indifferently. the same naturalist says he never knew one leave its old dwelling in order to build a new; though, when once ejected by force from its house, it would never enter it again, as some other species of caterpillars will do, but always preferred building another. we, on the contrary, have more than once seen them leave an old habitation. the very caterpillar, indeed, whose history we have above given, first took up its abode in a specimen of the ghost-moth (_hepialus humuli_), where, finding few suitable materials for building, it had recourse to the cork of the drawer, with the chips of which it made a structure almost as warm as it would have done from wool. whether it took offence at our disturbing it one day, or whether it did not find sufficient food in the body of the ghost-moth, we know not; but it left its cork house, and travelled about eighteen inches, selected "the old lady," one of the largest insects in the drawer, and built a new apartment, composed partly of cork as before, and partly of bits clipt out of the moth's wings. (j. r.) we have seen these caterpillars form their habitations of every sort of insect, from a butterfly to a beetle; and the soft, feathery wings of moths answer their purpose very well: but when they fall in with such hard materials as the musk beetle (_cerambyx moschatus_), or the large scolopendra of the west indies, they find some difficulty in the building. [illustration: transformations of the honeycomb-moths. _a_ _a_ _a_, galleries of the cell-boring caterpillar; _b_, the female; _c_, the male moth (_galleria alvearia_); _d_ _d_ _d_ _d_, galleries of the wax-eating caterpillar, _e_, seen at the entrance; _f_, the same exposed; _g_, its cocoon; _h_, the moth (_galleria cereana_).] when the structure is finished, the insect deems itself secure to feed on the materials of the cloth or other animal matter within its reach, provided it is dry and free from fat or grease, which réaumur found it would not touch. this may probably be the origin of the practice of putting a bit of candle with furs, &c., to preserve them from the moth. for building, it always selects the straightest and loosest pieces of wool, but for food it prefers the shortest and most compact; and to procure these it eats into the body of the stuff, rejecting the pile or nap, which it necessarily cuts across at the origin, and permits to fall, leaving it threadbare, as if it had been much worn. it must have been this circumstance which induced bonnet to fancy (as we have already mentioned) that it cuts the hairs to make itself a smooth, comfortable path to walk upon. it would be equally correct to say that an ox or a sheep dislikes walking amongst long grass, and therefore eats it down in order to clear the way. [there is a little insect closely allied to these moths, which does a vast amount of harm to the bee-combs. this is the honeycomb-moth, of which there are in england two species, both belonging to the genus galleria. this little creature is continually trying to make its way into the hives, and is as continually opposed by the bees, who instinctively know their enemy. if it once slips past the guards, the unfortunate bees are doomed to lose a considerable amount of their stored treasures, and have sometimes been so worried that they have been obliged to leave the hive altogether. as soon as it can hide itself in an empty cell--an easy matter enough for so tiny a moth, which harmonizes exactly in colour with the bee-combs--it proceeds to lay its eggs, and, having discharged its office, dies. the eggs soon hatch into little grubs and caterpillars with very hard horny heads and soft bodies. as soon as they come into the dark world of the hive, they begin to eat their way through the combs, spinning the while a tunnel of silk, which entirely protects them from the stings of the bees. they can traverse these tunnels with tolerable speed, so that the bees do not know where to find their enemies; and if perchance they should discover one of them at the mouth of its burrow, the hard, horny head is all that is visible, and against its polished surface the sting of the bee is useless. the rapidity with which they drive the silken tubes through the comb is really marvellous; and even if they get among a collection of empty bee-combs, they make as much havoc as if they were bred in the hive from which the combs were taken. in the accompanying illustration are seen figures of the two species of honey-moths, together with their tunnels. the species may be easily distinguished by the shape of the wings, _galleria alvearia_ having, as seen at figs. _b_, _c_, the ends of its wings rounded, and _galleria cereana_ having them squared. some moths, also belonging to the vast family tineidæ, do much damage to grain, and have also the habit of spinning silken tissues as they eat their way through the grain. one of them is more plentiful on the continent than in england, but is known in this country by the name of the mottled woollen moth (_tinea granella_)]. the caterpillar, which is smooth and white, ties together with silk several grains of wheat, barley, rye, or oats, weaving a gallery between them, from which it projects its head while feeding; the grains, as réaumur remarks, being prevented from rolling or slipping by the silk which unites them. he justly ridicules the absurd notion of its filing off the outer skin of the wheat by rubbing upon it with its body, the latter being the softer of the two, and he disproved, by experiment, leeuwenhoeck's assertion that it will also feed on woollen cloth. it is from the end of may till the beginning of july that the moths, which are of a silvery grey, spotted with brown, appear and lay their eggs in granaries. [illustration: transformations of the grain-moths. _a_, grain of barley, including a caterpillar; _b_, _c_, the grain cut across, seen to be hollowed out, and divided by a partition of silk; _d_, the moth (_tinea hordei_); _e_, grains of wheat tied together by the caterpillar; _f_, _g_, the caterpillar and moth (_euplocamus granella_).] the caterpillar of another still more singular grain-moth (_tinea hordei_, kirby and spence) proves sometimes very destructive of granaries. the mother-moth, in may or june, lays about twenty or more eggs on a grain of barley or wheat; and when the caterpillars are hatched they disperse, each selecting a single grain. m. réaumur imagines that sanguinary wars must sometimes arise, in cases of preoccupancy, a single grain of barley being a rich heritage for one of these tiny insects; but he confesses he never saw such contests. when the caterpillar has eaten its way into the interior of the grain, it feeds on the farina, taking care not to gnaw the skin nor even to throw out its excrements, so that except the little hole, scarcely discernible, the grain appears quite sound. when it has eaten all the farina, it spins itself a case of silk within the now hollow grain, and changes to a pupa in november. tent-making caterpillars. the caterpillars of a family of small moths (_tineidæ_), which feed on the leaves of various trees, such as the hawthorn, the elm, the oak, and most fruit-trees, particularly the pear, form habitations which are exceedingly ingenious and elegant. they are so very minute that they require close inspection to discover them; and to the cursory observer, unacquainted with their habits, they will appear more like the withered leaf-scales of the tree, thrown off when the buds expand, than artificial structures made by insects. it is only, indeed, by seeing them move about upon the leaves, that we discover they are inhabited by a living tenant, who carries them as the snail does its shell. these tents are from a quarter of an inch to an inch in length, and usually about the breadth of an oat-straw. that they are of the colour of a withered leaf is not surprising; for they are actually composed of a piece of leaf; not, however, cut out from the whole thickness, but artfully separated from the upper layer, as a person might separate one of the leaves of paper from a sheet of pasteboard. the tents of this class of caterpillars, which are found on the elm, the alder, and other trees with serrated leaves, are much in the shape of a minute goldfish. they are convex on the back, where the indentations of the leaf out of which they have been cut add to the resemblance, by appearing like the dorsal fins of the fish. by depriving one of those caterpillars common on the hawthorn of its tents, for the sake of experiment, we put it under the necessity of making another; for, as pliny remarks of the clothes-moth, they will rather die of hunger than feed unprotected. when we placed it on a fresh hawthorn leaf, it repeatedly examined every part of it, as if seeking for its lost tent, though, when this was put in its way, it would not again enter it; but, after some delay, commenced a new one. (j. r.) [illustration: a caterpillar's tent upon a leaf of the elm.--_a_, _a_, the part of the leaf from which the tent has been cut out; _b_, the tent itself.] for this purpose, it began to eat through one of the two outer membranes which compose the leaf and enclose the pulp (_parenchyma_), some of which, also, it devoured, and then thrust the hinder part of its body into the perforation. the cavity, however, which it had formed, being yet too small for its reception, it immediately resumed the task of making it larger. by continuing to gnaw into the pulp _between_ the membranes of the leaf (for it took the greatest care not to puncture or injure the membranes themselves), it soon succeeded in mining out a gallery rather larger than was sufficient to contain its body. we perceived that it did not throw out as rubbish the pulp it dug into, but devoured it as food--a circumstance not the least remarkable in its proceedings. as the two membranes of leaf thus deprived of the enclosed pulp appeared white and transparent, every movement of the insect within could be distinctly seen; and it was not a little interesting to watch its ingenious operations while it was making its tent from the membranes prepared as we have just described. these, as réaumur has remarked, are in fact to the insect like a piece of cloth in the hands of a tailor; and no tailor could cut out a shape with more neatness and dexterity than this little workman does. as the caterpillar is furnished in its mandibles with an excellent pair of scissors, this may not appear to be a difficult task; yet, when we examine the matter more minutely, we find that the peculiar shape of the two extremities requires different curvatures, and this, of course, renders the operation no less complex, as réaumur subjoins, than the shaping of the pieces of cloth for a coat.[bw] the insect, in fact, shapes the membranes slightly convex on one side and concave on the other, and at one end twice as large as the other. in the instance which we observed, beginning at the larger end, it bent them gently on each side by pressing them with its body thrown into a curve. we have not said it _cuts_, but _shapes_ its materials; for it must be obvious that if the insect had cut both the membranes at this stage of its operations, the pieces would have fallen and carried it along with them. to obviate such an accident it proceeded to join the two edges, and secure them firmly with silk, before it made a single incision to detach them. when it had in this manner joined the two edges along one of the sides, it inserted its head on the outside of the joining, first at one end and then at the other, gnawing the fibres till that whole side was separated. it proceeded in the same manner with the other side, joining the edges before it cut them: and when it arrived at the last fibre, the only remaining support of its now finished tent, it took the precaution, before snipping it, to moor the whole to the uncut part of the leaf by a cable of its own silk. consequently, when it does cut the last nervure, it is secure from falling, and can then travel along the leaf, carrying its tent on its back, as a snail does its shell. (j. r.) we have just discovered (nov. 4th, 1829) upon the nettle a tent of a very singular appearance, in consequence of the materials of which it is made. the caterpillar seems, indeed, to have proceeded exactly in the same manner as those which we have described, mining first between the two membranes of the leaf, and then uniting these and cutting out his tent. but the tent itself looks singular from being all over studded with the stinging bristles of the nettle, and forming a no less formidable coat of mail to the little inhabitant than the spiny hide of the hedgehog. in feeding it does not seem to have mined into the leaf, but to have eaten the whole of the lower membrane, along with the entire pulp, leaving nothing but the upper membrane untouched. (j. r.) during the summer of 1830 we discovered a very large tent which had been formed out of a blade of grass; and another stuck all over with chips of leaves upon the common maple. [illustration: _a_, the caterpillar occupying the space it has eaten between the cuticles of the leaf; _b_, a portion of the upper cuticle, cut out for the formation of the tent; _c_, the tent nearly completed; _d_, the perfect tent, with the caterpillar protruding its head.] tents of stone-mason caterpillars. the caterpillar of a small moth (_tinea_) which feeds upon the lichens growing on walls, builds for itself a moveable tent of a very singular kind. m. de la voye was the first who described these insects; but though they are frequently overlooked, from being very small, they are by no means uncommon on old walls. réaumur observed them regularly for twenty years together on the terrace-wall of the tuileries at paris; and they may be found in abundance in similar situations in this country. this accurate observer refuted by experiment the notion of m. de la voye that the caterpillars fed upon the stones of the wall; but he satisfied himself that they detached particles of the stone for the purpose of building their tents or sheaths (_fourreaux_), as he calls their dwellings. in order to watch their mode of building, réaumur gently ejected half-a-dozen of them from their homes, and observed them detach grain after grain from a piece of stone, binding each into the wall of their building with silk till the cell acquired the requisite magnitude, the whole operation taking about twenty-four hours of continued labour. m. de la voye mentions small granular bodies of a greenish colour, placed irregularly on the exterior of the structure, which he calls eggs; but we agree with réaumur in thinking it more probable that they are small fragments of moss or lichen intermixed with the stone: in fact, we have ascertained that they are so. (j. r.) [illustration: lichen-tents and caterpillars, both of their natural size and magnified.] when these little architects prepare for their change into chrysalides before becoming moths, they attach their tents securely to the stone over which they have hitherto rambled, by spinning a strong mooring of silk, so as not only to fill up every interstice between the main entrance of the tent and the stone, but also weaving a close, thick curtain of the same material, to shut up the entire aperture. it is usual for insects which form similar structures to issue, when they assume the winged state, from the broader end of their habitation; but our little stone-mason proceeds in a different manner. it leaves open the apex of the cone from the first, for the purpose of ejecting its excrements, and latterly it enlarges this opening a little, to allow of a free exit when it acquires wings; taking care, however, to spin over it a canopy of silk, as a temporary protection, which it can afterwards burst through without difficulty. the moth itself is very much like the common clothes-moth in form, but is of a gilded-bronze colour, and considerably smaller. in the same locality, m. de maupertuis found a numerous brood of small caterpillars, which employed grains of stone, not, like the preceding, for building feeding-tents, but for their cocoons. this caterpillar was of a brownish-grey colour, with a white line along the back, on each side of which were tufts of hair. the cocoons which it built were oval, and less in size than a hazel-nut, the grains of the stone being skilfully woven into irregular meshes of silk. in june, 1829, we found a numerous encampment of the tent-building caterpillars described by mm. de la voye and réaumur, on the brick wall of a garden at blackheath, kent. (j. r.) they were so very small, however, and so like the lichen on the wall, that had not our attention been previously directed to their habits, we should have considered them as portions of the wall; for not one of them was in motion, and it was only by the neat, turbinated, conical form in which they had constructed their habitations that we detected them. we tried the experiment above mentioned, of ejecting one of the caterpillars from its tent, in order to watch its proceedings when constructing another; but probably its haste to procure shelter, or the artificial circumstances into which it was thrown, influenced its operations, for it did not form so good a tent as the first, the texture of the walls being much slighter, while it was more rounded at the apex, and of course not so elegant. réaumur found, in all his similar experiments, that the new structure equalled the old; but most of the trials of this kind which we have made correspond with the inferiority which we have here recorded. the process indeed is the same, but it seems to be done with more hurry and less care. it may be, indeed, in some cases, that the supply of silk necessary to unite the bits of stone, earth, or lichen employed, is too scanty for perfecting a second structure. we remarked a very singular circumstance in the operations of our little architect, which seems to have escaped the minute and accurate attention of réaumur. when it commenced its structure, it was indispensable to lay a foundation for the walls about to be reared; but as the tent was to be moveable like the shell of a snail, and not stationary, it would not have answered its end to cement the foundation to the wall. we had foreseen this difficulty, and felt not a little interested in discovering how it would be got over. accordingly, upon watching its movements with some attention, we were soon gratified to perceive that it used its own body as the primary support of the building. it fixed a thread of silk upon one of its right feet, warped it over to the corresponding left foot, and upon the thread thus stretched between the two feet it glued grains of stone and chips of lichen, till the wall was of the required thickness. upon this, as a foundation, it continued to work till it had formed a small portion in form of a parallelogram; and proceeding in a similar way, it was not long in making a ring a very little wider than sufficient to admit its body. it extended this ring in breadth, by working on the inside only, narrowing the diameter by degrees, till it began to take the form of a cone. the apex of this cone was not closed up, but left as an aperture through which to eject its excrements. it is worthy of remark, that one of the caterpillars which we deprived of its tent attempted to save itself the trouble of building a new one, by endeavouring to unhouse one of its neighbours. for this purpose, it got upon the outside of the inhabited tent, and, sliding its head down to the entrance, tried to make its way into the interior. but the rightful owner did not choose to give up his premises so easily, and fixed his tent down so firmly upon the table where we had placed it, that the intruder was forced to abandon his attempt. the instant, however, that the other unmoored his tent and began to move about, the invader renewed his efforts to eject him, persevering in the struggle for several hours, but without a chance of success. at one time we imagined that he would have accomplished his felonious intentions; for he bound down the apex of the tent to the table with cables of silk. but he attempted his entrance at the wrong end. he ought to have tried the aperture in the apex, by enlarging which a little he would undoubtedly have made good his entrance; and as the inhabitant could not have turned upon him for want of room, the castle must have been surrendered. this experiment, however, was not tried, and there was no hope for him at the main entrance. muff-shaped tents. the ingenuity of man has pressed into his service not only the wool, the hair, and even the skins of animals, but has most extensively searched the vegetable kingdom for the materials of his clothing. in all this, however, he is rivalled by the tiny inhabitants of the insect world, as we have already seen; and we are about now to give an additional instance of the art of a species of caterpillars which select a warmer material for their tents than even the caterpillar of the clothes-moth. it may have been remarked by many who are not botanists, that the seed-catkins of the willow become, as they ripen, covered with a species of down or cotton, which, however, is too short in the fibre to be advantageously employed in our manufactures. but the caterpillars, to which we have alluded, find it well adapted for their habitations. the muff-looking tent in which we find these insects does not require much trouble to construct; for the caterpillar does not, like the clothes-moth caterpillar, join the willow-cotton together, fibre by fibre--it is contented with the state in which it finds it on the seed. into this it burrows, lines the interior with a tapestry of silk, and then detaches the whole from the branch where it was growing, and carries it about with it as a protection while it is feeding.[bx] [illustration: _a_, branch of the willow, with seed-spikes covered with cotton; _b_, muff-tents, made of this cotton by _c_, the caterpillar.] an inquiring friend of réaumur having found one of these insects floating about in its muff-tent upon water, concluded that they feed upon aquatic plants; but he was soon convinced that it had only been blown down by an accident, which must frequently happen, as willows so often hang over water. may it not be, that the buoyant materials of the tent were intended to furnish the little inhabitant with a life-boat, in which, when it chanced to be blown into the water, it might sail safely ashore and regain its native tree? leaf-mining caterpillars. the process of mining between the two membranes of a leaf is carried on to a farther extent by minute caterpillars allied to the tent-makers above described. the tent-maker never deserts his house, except when compelled, and therefore can only mine to about half the length of his own body; but the miners now to be considered make the mine itself their dwelling-place, and as they eat their way, they lengthen and enlarge their galleries. a few of these mining caterpillars are the progeny of small weevils (_curculionidæ_), some of two-winged flies (_diptera_), but the greater number are produced from a genus of minute moth (_oecophora_, latr.), which, when magnified, appear to be amongst the most splendid and brilliant of nature's productions, vying even with the humming-birds and diamond-beetles of the tropics in the rich metallic colours which bespangle their wings. well may bonnet call them "tiny miracles of nature," and regret that they are not _en grand_.[by] there are few plants or trees whose leaves may not, at some season of the year, be found mined by these caterpillars, the track of whose progress appears on the upper surface in winding lines. let us take one of the most common of these for an example,--that of the rose-leaf, produced by the caterpillar of ray's golden-silver spot (_argyromiges rayella_? curtis), of which we have just gathered above a dozen specimens from one rose-tree. (j. r.) it may be remarked that the winding line is black, closely resembling the tortuous course of a river on a map,--beginning like a small brook, and gradually increasing in breadth as it proceeds. this representation of a river exhibits, besides, a narrow white valley on each side of it, increasing as it goes, till it terminates in a broad delta. the valley is the portion of the inner leaf from which the caterpillar has eaten the pulp (_parenchyma_), while the river itself has been formed by the liquid _ejectamenta_ of the insect, the watery part becoming evaporated. in other species of miners, however, the dung is hard and dry, and consequently these only exhibit the valley without the river (see p. 255). [illustration: leaf of the monthly rose (_rose indica_), mined by caterpillars of argyromiges?] on looking at the back of the leaf, where the winding line begins, we uniformly find the shell of the very minute egg from which the caterpillar has been hatched, and hence perceive that it digs into the leaf the moment it escapes from the egg, without wandering a hair's-breadth from the spot; as if afraid lest the air should visit it too roughly. the egg is, for the most part, placed upon the mid-rib of the rose-leaf, but sometimes on one of the larger nervures. when once it has got within the leaf, it seems to pursue no certain direction, sometimes working to the centre, sometimes to the circumference, sometimes to the point, and sometimes to the base, and even, occasionally, crossing or keeping parallel to its own previous track. the most marvellous circumstance, however, is the minuteness of its workmanship; for though a rose-leaf is thinner than this paper, the insect finds room to mine a tunnel to live in, and plenty of food, without touching the two external membranes. let any one try with the nicest dissecting instruments to separate the two plates of a rose-leaf, and he will find it impossible to proceed far without tearing one or other. the caterpillar goes still further in minute nicety; for it may be remarked, that its track can only be seen on the upper, and not on the under surface of the leaf, proving that it eats as it proceeds only half the thickness of the pulp, or that portion of it which belongs to the upper membrane of the leaf. we have found this little miner on almost every sort of rose-tree, both wild and cultivated, including the sweet-briar, in which, the leaf being very small, it requires nearly the whole parenchyma to feed one caterpillar. they seem, however, to prefer the foreign monthly rose to any of our native species, and there are few trees of this where they may not be discovered. [illustration: leaf of the dew-berry bramble (_rubus cæsius_), mined by caterpillars.] tunnels very analogous to the preceding may be found upon the common bramble (_rubus fruticosus_); and on the holly, early in spring, one which is in form of an irregular whitish blotch. but in the former case, the little miner seems to proceed more regularly, always, when newly hatched, making directly for the circumference, upon or near which also the mother-moth deposits her egg, and winding along for half the extent of the leaf close upon the edge, following, in some cases, the very indentations formed by the terminating nervures. the bramble-leaf miner seems also to differ from that of the rose-leaf, by eating the pulp both from the upper and under surface, at least the track is equally distinct above and below; yet this may arise from the different consistence of the leaf pulp, that in the rose being firm, while that of the bramble is soft and puffy. on the leaves of the common primrose (_primula veris_), as well as on the garden variety of it, the polyanthus, one of those mining caterpillars may very frequently be found. it is, however, considerably different from the preceding, for there is no black trace--no river to the valley which it excavates: its ejectamenta, being small and solid, are seen, when the leaf is dried, in little black points like grains of sand. this miner also seems more partial than the preceding to the mid-rib and its vicinity, in consequence of which its path is seldom so tortuous, and often appears at its extremity to terminate in an area comparatively extensive, arising from its recrossing its previous tracks. (j. r.) [illustration: leaf of the primrose (_primula veris_), mined by a caterpillar.] swammerdam describes a mining caterpillar which he found on the leaves of the alder, though it did not, like those we have just described, excavate a winding gallery; it kept upon the same spot, and formed only an irregular area. a moth was produced from this, whose upper wings, he says, "shone and glittered most gloriously with crescents of gold, silver, and brown, surrounded by borders of delicate black." another area miner which he found on the leaves of willows, as many as seventeen on one leaf, producing what appeared to be rusty spots, was metamorphosed into a very minute weevil (_curculio rhionoc._). he says he has been informed that, in warm climates, worms an inch long are found in leaves, and adds, with great simplicity, "on these many fine experiments might have been made, if the inhabitants had not laboured under the cursed thirst of gold."[bz] the vine-leaf miner, when about to construct its cocoon, cuts, from the termination of its gallery, two pieces of the membrane of the leaf, deprived of their pulp, in a similar manner to the tent-makers described above, uniting them and lining them with silk. this she carries to some distance before she lays herself up to undergo her change. her mode of walking under her burthen is peculiar, for, not contented with the security of a single thread of silk, she forms, as bonnet says, "little mountains (_monticules_) of silk, from distance to distance, and seizing one of these with her teeth, drags herself forward, and makes it a scaffolding from which she can build another."[ca] some of the miners, however, do not leave their galleries, but undergo their transformations there, taking the precaution to mine a cell, not in the upper, but in the under surface; others only shift to another portion of the leaf. social leaf-miners. the preceding descriptions apply to caterpillars who construct their mines in solitude, there being seldom more than one on a leaf or leaflet, unless when two mother-flies happen to lay their eggs on the same leaf; but there are others, such as the miners of the leaves of the henbane (_hyoscyamus niger_), which excavate a common area in concert--from four to eight forming a colony. these are very like flesh-maggots, being larger than the common miners; the leaves of this plant, from being thick and juicy, giving them space to work and plenty to eat. most of the solitary leaf-miners either cannot or will not construct a new mine, if ejected by an experimenter from the old, as we have frequently proved; but this is not the case with the social miners of the henbane-leaf. bonnet ejected one of these, and watched it with his glass till it commenced a new tunnel, which it also enlarged with great expedition; and in order to verify the assertion of réaumur, that they neither endeavour nor fear to meet one another, he introduced a second. neither of them manifested any knowledge of the other's contiguity, but both worked hard at the gallery, as did a third and a fourth which he afterwards introduced; for though they seemed uneasy, they never attacked one another, as the solitary ones often do when they meet.[cb] bark-mining caterpillars. a very different order of mining caterpillars are the progeny of various beetles, which excavate their galleries in the soft inner bark of trees, or between it and the young wood (_alburnum_). some of these, though small, commit extensive ravages, as may readily be conceived when we are told that as many as eighty thousand are occasionally found on one tree. in 1783 the trees thus destroyed by the printer-beetle (_tomicus typographus_, latr.), so called from its tracks resembling letters, amounted to above a million and a half in the hartz forest. it appears there periodically, and confines its ravages to the fir. this insect is said to have been found in the neighbourhood of london. on taking off the bark of decaying poplars and willows, we have frequently met with the tracks of a miner of this order, extending in tortuous pathways, about a quarter of an inch broad, for several feet and even yards in length. the excavation is not circular, but a compressed oval, and crammed throughout with a dark-coloured substance like sawdust--the excrement no doubt of the little miner, who is thereby protected from the attacks of _staphylinidæ_, and other predaceous insects from behind. but though we have found a great number of these subcortical tracks, we have never discovered one of the miners, though they are very probably the grubs of the pretty musk-beetle (_cerambyx moschatus_), which are so abundant in the neighbourhood of the trees in question, that the very air in summer is perfumed with their odour. (j. r.) [mr. rennie is undoubtedly right in his suggestion. i have found similar holes in old willow trees, and have traced them throughout their varied ramifications. they contain the larvæ and pupæ of the musk-beetle, some of which may be seen in the museum at oxford. on these trees, which mostly grow along the banks of the cherwell, the perfect beetle was so abundant that it might be taken in any number, and, as described by mr. rennie, the air was perfumed with its powerful and agreeable odour. so strong is the scent of this beetle, that i have known it adhere to gloves after the lapse of many weeks, and i have often caught the scent when passing along the road, and merely by the aid of the nostrils discovered the insect. on account of the vast number of carpenter-beetles, it is impossible to notice more than a few of them, and we will therefore select some of the most conspicuous. one of them, belonging to the genus _ptilinus_, is very familiar to us as boring into wooden furniture, and producing the effect which is popularly called "worm-eaten." fortunately, the little creatures can be easily ejected, and the wood rendered free of them ever afterwards. all that is needed is to take a syringe with a very fine aperture--an injecting syringe is the best--and by its aid to force into the holes a solution of corrosive sublimate in spirits of wine--say a large teaspoonful of the powdered salt to a pint of spirits. the rapidity with which the poisoned spirit permeates the wood is wonderful, and in a short time it may be seen oozing out of twenty or thirty holes at once. this solution is peculiarly effective, as it kills all the insects, destroys every egg that it touches, and renders the wood poisonous to the grubs that happen to escape. i used to be greatly plagued with the ptilinus among my ethnological collection, until i tried the corrosive sublimate, and ever since my spears, bows and arrows, and clubs have remained intact. another troublesome insect is the _scolytus destructor_, which makes its radiating tunnels between the bark and the tree. whole forests have been destroyed by this voracious little beetle, the bark having been completely detached, and the tree necessarily killed. the habits of this beetle are well described in the following passage.] [illustration: bark mined in rays by beetle-grubs.] we have frequently observed a very remarkable instinct in the grubs of a species of beetle (_scolytus destructor_, geoffroy), which lives under the dead bark of trees. the mother insect, as is usual with beetles, deposits her eggs in a patch or cluster in a chink or hole in the bark; and when the brood is hatched, they begin feeding on the bark which had formed their cradle. there is, of course, nothing wonderful in their eating the food selected by their mother; but it appears that, like the caterpillars of the clothes-moth, and the tent insects, they cannot feed except under cover. they dig, therefore, long tubular galleries between the bark and the wood; and, in order not to interfere with the _runs_ of their brethren, they branch off from the place of hatching like rays from the centre of a circle: though these are not always in a right line, yet, however near they may approach to the contiguous ones, none of them ever break into each other's premises. we cannot but admire the remarkable instinct implanted in these grubs by their creator; which guides them thus in lines diverging farther and farther as they increase in size, so that they are prevented from interfering with the comforts of one another. [we now come to one or two of the beetles which bore deeply into the very wood of the trees. as a rule, the musk-beetle keeps rather towards the exterior of the tree, but there are many that are not so cautious, and which besides damage the tree additionally by nibbling a quantity of chips, wherewith they strengthen their cocoons. we will first take the two insects which are shown in the accompanying illustration. that on the right hand is a species of weevil, or curculio, and is an undescribed species belonging to the genus rhyncophorus. it is a native of australia. the insect and its cocoon are drawn one third less than their real size. the colour of the beetle is warm chestnut brown, and the bold marks on the thorax are jet black. in its larval state it burrows into the palm-trees, and when about to assume the pupal condition it makes the remarkable cocoon which is figured. generally, these wooden cocoons are made of little chips which are bitten from the wood, and woven together with silk. this cocoon, however, is made of long fibres, which are torn rather than bitten, and are so long that one of them will sometimes encircle the cell three times, making an average length of nine inches. it is tolerably compact in structure, and the colour is pale brown. on the left hand is an opened cocoon of an english beetle belonging to the genus rhagium. like the last-mentioned insect, the rhagium prefers long fibres to short chips, though it does not use them of such a length as the rhyncophorus. the cocoon is generally made between the bark and the wood, from the latter of which the fibres are torn. in consequence of the mode of structure, the cocoon is pale straw colour, while the hollow in which it rests is quite dark. [illustration: cocoon of rhagium. rhyncophorus and cocoon.] all entomologists are familiar with the pretty little wasp-beetle (_clytus arietis_), which derives its popular name from the wasp-like colours of its body. in the larval state it is one of the carpenter-grubs, and may be found in posts, fir-trees, and similar localities. in this country, although plentiful, it is not numerous enough to do much harm; but in ceylon, a closely-allied species is one of the pests of the island. it is popularly known by the title of coffee-borer, from its habit of boring into the stems of the coffee-plant. the landowner looks with absolute horror on this pretty but destructive insect, and would pay a heavy sum annually to any one who would undertake to extirpate the tiny foe. whole plantations have been swept off by it, and up to the present time no remedy has had more than a temporary and partial success.] another capricorn beetle of this family is no less destructive to bark in its perfect state than the above are when grubs, as from its habit of eating round a tree, it cuts the course of the returning sap, and destroys it. [the late mr. waterton once showed me a stout branch which had fallen on his head while he was standing under a tree, the branch having been cut completely through by the jaws of some large longicorn beetle. the mode in which the insect had severed the branch was exactly like that which is practised by the beaver when it cuts down a tree. [illustration: capricorn beetle (_cerambyx lamia amputator_) rounding off the bark of a tree.] the burrows and cocoons of two other species of cerambyx are shown in the accompanying illustration, and in both cases may be seen the provision which is made for the exit of the beetle after it has attained the perfect condition. the double burrow of the left is that of _cerambyx carcharias_, and those on the right-hand figure are the habitations of _cerambyx populneus_. the reader will see how these insects cut up the wood of the branch, and can well understand the infinite mischief which can be done to a coffee plantation by the clytus. the last wood-boring beetle which will be mentioned is the stag-beetle of our own country. in the larval state this insect resides in tree trunks, mostly towards the roots, and therefore escapes observation more successfully than would be the case if it inhabited a higher portion of the tree. when full-grown, the larva is of enormous size, and the hole which it bores is necessarily of corresponding dimensions. in some parts of england, the larvæ are popularly called "joe bassetts," and are said to turn into "pincher bobs." the latter title is a very appropriate one, as any one can testify who has allowed a fine male stag-beetle to grip his finger between its jaws. as to the joe bassett, it is simply a local name.] [illustration: _cerambyx carcharias._] [illustration: _cerambyx populneus._] _chapter xiii._ structures of grasshoppers, crickets, and beetles. grasshoppers, locusts, crickets, and beetles are, in many respects, no less interesting than the insects whose architectural proceedings we have already detailed. they do not, indeed, build any edifice for the accommodation of themselves or their progeny; but most, if not all of them, excavate retreats in walls or in the ground. the house-cricket (_acheta domestica_) is well known for its habit of picking out the mortar of ovens and kitchen fire-places, where it not only enjoys warmth, but can procure abundance of food. it is usually supposed that it feeds on bread. m. latreille says it only eats insects, and it certainly thrives well in houses infested by the cockroach; but we have also known it eat and destroy lamb's-wool stockings, and other woolen stuffs, hung near a fire to dry. it is evidently not fond of hard labour, but prefers those places where the mortar is already loosened, or at least is new, soft, and easily scooped out; and in this way it will dig covert ways from room to room. in summer, crickets often make excursions from the house to the neighbouring fields, and dwell in the crevices of rubbish, or the cracks made in the ground by dry weather, where they chirp as merrily as in the snuggest chimney-corner. whether they ever dig retreats in such circumstances we have not ascertained: though it is not improbable they may do so for the purpose of making nests. m. bory st. vincent tells us that the spaniards are so fond of crickets that they keep them in cages like singing birds.[cc] the mole-cricket. [illustration: the mole-cricket, with a separate outline of one of its hands.] the insect, called, from its similarity of habits to the mole, the mole-cricket (_gryllotalpa vulgaris_, latr.), is but too well known in gardens, corn-fields, and the moist banks of rivers and ponds, in some parts of england, such as wiltshire and hampshire, though it is comparatively rare or unknown in others. it burrows in the ground, and forms extensive galleries similar to those of the mole, though smaller; and these may always be recognized by a slightly elevated ridge of mould: for the insect does not throw up the earth in hillocks like the mole, but gradually, as it digs along, in the manner of the field-mouse. in this way it commits great ravages, in hotbeds and in gardens, upon peas, young cabbages, and other vegetables, the roots of which it is said to devour. it is not improbable, we think, that, like its congener, the house-cricket, it may also prey upon underground insects, and undermine the plants to get at them, as the mole has been proved to do. mr gould, indeed, fed a mole-cricket for several months upon ants. the structure of the mole-cricket's arms and hands (if we may call them so) is admirably adapted for these operations, being both very strong, and moved by a peculiar apparatus of muscles. the breast is formed of a thick, hard, horny substance, which is further strengthened within by a double framework of strong gristle, in front of the extremities of which the shoulder-blades of the arms are firmly jointed: a structure evidently intended to prevent the breast from being injured by the powerful action of the muscles of the arms in digging. the arms themselves are strong and broad, and the hand is furnished with four large sharp claws, pointed somewhat obliquely outwards, this being the direction in which it digs, throwing the earth on each side of its course. so strongly indeed does it throw out its arms, that we find it can thus easily support its own weight when held between the finger and thumb, as we have tried upon half-a-dozen of the living insects now in our possession. [illustration: nest of the mole-cricket.] the nest which the female constructs for her eggs, in the beginning of may, is well worthy of attention. the rev. mr. white, of selborne, tells us that a gardener, at a house where he was on a visit, while mowing grass by the side of a canal, chanced to strike his scythe too deep, and pared off a large piece of turf, laying open to view an interesting scene of domestic economy. there was a pretty chamber dug in the clay, of the form and about the dimensions it would have had if moulded by an egg, the walls being neatly smoothed and polished. in this little cell were deposited about a hundred eggs, of the size and form of caraway comfits, and of a dull tarnished white colour. the eggs were not very deep, but just under a little heap of fresh mould, and within the influence of the sun's heat.[cd] the dull tarnished white colour, however, scarcely agrees with a parcel of these eggs now before us, which are translucent, gelatinous, and greenish. like the eggs and young of other insects, however, those of the mole-cricket are exposed to depredation, and particularly to the ravages of a black beetle which burrows in similar localities. the mother insect, accordingly, does not think her nest secure till she has defended it, like a fortified town, with labyrinths, intrenchments, ramparts, and covert ways. in some part of these out-works she stations herself as an advanced guard, and when the beetle ventures within her circumvallations, she pounces upon him and kills him. the field-cricket. another insect of this family, the field-cricket (_acheta campestris_), also forms burrows in the ground, in which it lodges all day, and comes out chiefly about sunset to pipe its evening song. it is so very shy and cautious, however, that it is by no means easy to discover either the insect or its burrow. "the children in france amuse themselves with hunting after the field-cricket; they put into its hole an ant fastened by a long hair, and as they draw it out the cricket does not fail to pursue it, and issue from its retreat. pliny informs us it might be captured in a much more expeditious and easy manner. if, for instance, a small and slender piece of stick were to be thrust into the burrow, the insect, he says, would immediately get upon it for the purpose of demanding the occasion of the intrusion: whence arose the proverb, _stultior grillo_ (more foolish than a cricket), applied to one who, upon light grounds, provokes his enemy, and falls into the snares which might have been laid to entrap him."[ce] the rev. mr. white, who attentively studied their habits and manners, at first made an attempt to dig them out with a spade, but without any great success; for either the bottom of the hole was inaccessible, from its terminating under a large stone, or else in breaking up the ground the poor creature was inadvertently squeezed to death. out of one thus bruised a great number of eggs were taken, which were long and narrow, of a yellow colour, and covered with a very tough skin. more gentle means were then used, and these proved successful. a pliant stalk of grass, gently insinuated into the caverns, will probe their windings to the bottom, and bring out the inhabitant; and thus the humane inquirer may gratify his curiosity without injuring the object of it. when the males meet, they sometimes fight very fiercely, as mr. white found by some that he put into the crevices of a dry stone wall, where he wished to have them settle. for though they seemed distressed by being taken out of their knowledge, yet the first that got possession of the chinks seized on all the others that were obtruded upon him with his large row of serrated fangs. with their strong jaws, toothed like the shears of a lobster's claws, they perforate and round their curious regular cells, having no fore-claws to dig with, like the mole-cricket. when taken into the hand, they never attempt to defend themselves, though armed with such formidable weapons. of such herbs as grow about the mouths of their burrows they eat indiscriminately, and never in the day-time seem to stir more than two or three inches from home. sitting in the entrance of their caverns, they chirp all night as well as day, from the middle of the month of may to the middle of july. in hot weather, when they are most vigorous, they make the hills echo; and, in the more still hours of darkness, may be heard to a very considerable distance. "not many summers ago," says mr. white, "i endeavoured to transplant a colony of these insects to the terrace in my garden, by boring deep holes in the sloping turf. the new inhabitants stayed some time, and fed and sang; but they wandered away by degrees, and were heard at a greater distance every morning; so it appears that on this emergency they made use of their wings in attempting to return to the spot from which they were taken."[cf] the manner in which these insects lay their eggs is represented in the following figure, which is that of an insect nearly allied to the crickets, though of a different genus. [illustration: _acrida verrucivora_ depositing her eggs. the usual position of the ovipositor is represented by dots.] a more laborious task is performed by an insect by no means uncommon in britain, the burying beetle (_necrophorus vespillo_), which may be easily recognized by its longish body, of a black colour, with two broad and irregularly indented bands of yellowish brown. a foreign naturalist, m. gleditsch, gives a very interesting account of its industry. he had "often remarked that dead moles, when laid upon the ground, especially if upon loose earth, were almost sure to disappear in the course of two or three days, often of twelve hours. to ascertain the cause, he placed a mole upon one of the beds in his garden. it had vanished by the third morning; and on digging where it had been laid, he found it buried to the depth of three inches, and under it four beetles, which seemed to have been the agents in this singular inhumation. not perceiving anything particular in the mole, he buried it again; and on examining it at the end of six days, he found it swarming with maggots, apparently the issue of the beetles, which m. gleditsch now naturally concluded had buried the carcase for the food of their future young. to determine these points more clearly, he put four of these insects into a glass vessel, half filled with earth and properly secured, and upon the surface of the earth two frogs. in less than twelve hours one of the frogs was interred by two of the beetles; the other two ran about the whole day, as if busied in measuring the dimensions of the remaining corpse, which on the third day was also found buried. he then introduced a dead linnet. a pair of the beetles were soon engaged upon the bird. they began their operations by pushing out the earth from under the body, so as to form a cavity for its reception; and it was curious to see the efforts which the beetles made, by dragging at the feathers of the bird from below, to pull it into its grave. the male, having driven the female away, continued the work alone for five hours. he lifted up the bird, changed its place, turned it, and arranged it in the grave, and from time to time came out of the hole, mounted upon it, and trod it under foot, and then retired below, and pulled it down. at length, apparently wearied with this uninterrupted labour, it came forth, and leaned its head upon the earth beside the bird, without the smallest motion, as if to rest itself, for a full hour, when it again crept under the earth. the next day, in the morning, the bird was an inch and a half under ground, and the trench remained open the whole day, the corpse seeming as if laid out upon a bier, surrounded with a rampart of mould. in the evening it had sunk half an inch lower, and in another day the work was completed, and the bird covered. m. gleditsch continued to add other small dead animals, which were all sooner or later buried; and the result of his experiment was, that in fifty days four beetles had interred, in the very small space of earth allotted to them, twelve carcases, viz., four frogs, three small birds, two fishes, one mole, and two grasshoppers, besides the entrails of a fish, and two morsels of the lungs of an ox. in another experiment, a single beetle buried a mole, forty times its own bulk and weight, in two days."[cg] in the summer of 1826, we found on putney heath, in surrey, four of these beetles, hard at work in burying a dead crow, precisely in the manner described by m. gleditsch. (j. r.) dung-beetle. a still more common british insect, the dorr, clock, or dung-beetle (_geotrupes stercorarius_), uses different materials for burying along with its eggs. "it digs," to use the words of kirby and spence, "a deep cylindrical hole, and carrying down a mass of the dung to the bottom, in it deposits its eggs. and many of the species of the genus _ateuchus_ roll together wet dung into round pellets, deposit an egg in the midst of each, and when dry push them backwards, by their hind feet, to holes of the surprising depth of three feet, which they have previously dug for their reception, and which are often several yards distant. the attention of these insects to their eggs is so remarkable, that it was observed in the earliest ages, and is mentioned by ancient writers, but with the addition of many fables; as that they were all of the male sex; that they became young again every year; and that they rolled the pellets containing their eggs from sunrise to sunset every day, for twenty-eight days, without intermission."[ch] "we frequently notice in our evening walks," says mr. knapp, "the murmuring passage, and are often stricken by the heedless flight of the great dorr-beetle (_geotrupes stercorarius_), clocks, as the boys call them. but this evening my attention was called to them in particular, by the constant passing of such a number as to constitute something like a little stream; and i was led to search into the object of their direct flight, as in general it is irregular and seemingly inquisitive. i soon found that they dropped on some recent nuisance: but what powers of perception must these creatures possess, drawn from all distances and directions by the very little fetor which, in such a calm evening, could be diffused around, and by what inconceivable means could odours reach, this beetle in such a manner as to rouse so inert an insect into action! but it is appointed one of the great scavengers of the earth, and marvellously endowed with powers of sensation, and means of effecting this purpose of its being. exquisitely fabricated as it is to receive impressions, yet probably it is not more highly gifted than any of the other innumerable creatures that wing their way around us, or creep about our paths, though by this one perceptible faculty, thus 'dimly seen,' it excites our wonder and surprise. how wondrous then the whole! "the perfect cleanliness of these creatures is a very notable circumstance, when we consider that nearly their whole lives are passed in burrowing in the earth, and removing nuisances; yet such is the admirable polish of their coating and limbs, that we very seldom find any soil adhering to them. the meloe, and some of the scarabæi, upon first emerging from their winter's retreat, are commonly found with earth clinging to them; but the removal of this is one of the first operations of the creature; and all the beetle race, the chief occupation of which is crawling about the soil, and such dirty employs, are, notwithstanding, remarkable for the glossiness of their covering, and freedom from defilements of any kind. but purity of vesture seems to be a principal precept of nature, and observable throughout creation. fishes, from the nature of the element in which they reside, can contract but little impurity. birds are unceasingly attentive to neatness and lustration of their plumage. all the slug race, though covered with slimy matter calculated to collect extraneous things, and reptiles, are perfectly free from soil. the fur and hair of beasts, in a state of liberty and health, is never filthy or sullied with dirt. some birds roll themselves in dust, and, occasionally, particular beasts cover themselves with mire; but this is not from any liking or inclination for such things, but to free themselves from annoyances, or to prevent the bites of insects. whether birds in preening, and beasts in dressing themselves, be directed by any instinctive faculty, we know not; but they evidently derive pleasure from the operation, and thus this feeling of enjoyment, even if the sole motive, becomes to them an essential source of comfort and of health."[ci] the rose or green chafer (_cetonia aurata_), which is one of our prettiest native insects, is one of the burrowers, and, for the purpose of depositing her eggs, digs, about the middle of june, into soft light ground. when she is seen at this operation, with her broad and delicate wings folded up in their shining green cases, speckled with white, it could hardly be imagined that she had but just descended from the air, or dropped down from some neighbouring rose. * * * * * the proceedings of the tumble-dung beetle of america (_scarabæus pilularius_, linn.) are described in a very interesting manner by catesby, in his 'carolina.' "i have," says he, "attentively admired their industry, and mutual assisting of each other in rolling their globular balls from the place where they made them to that of their interment, which is usually the distance of some yards, more or less. this they perform breech foremost, by raising their hind parts, and forcing along the ball with their hind feet. two or three of them are sometimes engaged in trundling one ball, which, from meeting with impediments on account of the unevenness of the ground, is sometimes deserted by them. it is, however, attempted by others with success, unless it happens to roll into some deep hollow or chink, where they are constrained to leave it; but they continue their work by rolling off the next ball that comes in their way. none of them seem to know their own balls, but an equal care for the whole appears to affect all the community. they form these pellets while the dung remains moist, and leave them to harden in the sun before they attempt to roll them. in their moving of them from place to place, both they and the balls may frequently be seen tumbling about the little eminences that are in their way. they are not, however, easily discouraged; and, by repeating their attempts, usually surmount the difficulties." he further informs us that they "find out their subsistence by the excellency of their noses, which direct them in their flight to newly-fallen dung, on which they immediately go to work, tempering it with a proper mixture of earth. so intent are they always upon their employment, that, though handled or otherwise interrupted, they are not to be deterred, but immediately, on being freed, persist in their work without any apprehension of danger. they are said to be so exceedingly strong and active as to move about, with the greatest ease, things that are many times their own weight. dr. brichell was supping one evening in a planter's house of north carolina, when two of them were conveyed, without his knowledge, under the candlesticks. a few blows were struck on the table, and, to his great surprise, the candlesticks began to move about, apparently without any agency; and his surprise was not much lessened when, on taking one of them up, he discovered that it was only a chafer that moved it." we have often found the necklace-beetle (_carabus monilis_) inhabiting a chamber dug out in the earth of a garden, just sufficient to contain its body, and carefully smoothed and polished. from the form of this little nest, it would seem as if it were constructed, not by digging out the earth and removing it, but chiefly by the insect pushing its body forcibly against the walls. the beetles which we have found nestling in this manner have been all males; and therefore it cannot be intended for a breeding-cell; for male insects are never, we believe, sufficiently generous to their mates to assist them in such labours. the beetle in question appears to be partial to celery trenches (j. r.); probably from the loose earth of which they are composed yielding, without much difficulty, to the pressure of its body. [many of the subterranean larvæ which are turned up by the spade or the plough are the imperfect conditions of earth-burrowing beetles, and many of them are among the most insidious pests of the farmer, their ravages being all the more dangerous because they are unseen.] the most destructive, perhaps, of the creatures usually called grubs are the larvæ of the may-bug or cockchafer (_melolontha vulgaris_), but too well known, particularly in the southern and midland districts of england, as well as in ireland, where the grub is called the connaught worm;[cj] but fortunately not abundant in the north. we only once met with the cockchafer in scotland, at sorn, in ayrshire. (j. r.) even in the perfect state, this insect is not a little destructive to the leaves of both forest and fruit trees. in 1823, we remember to have observed almost all the trees about dulwich and camberwell defoliated by them; and salisbury says, the leaves of the oaks in richmond park were so eaten by them, that scarcely an entire leaf was left. but it is in their previous larva state that they are most destructive, as we shall see by tracing their history. the mother cockchafer, when about to lay her eggs, digs into the earth of a meadow or corn-field to the depth of a span, and deposits them in a cluster at the bottom of the excavation. rösel, in order to watch the proceedings, put some females into glasses half-filled with earth, covered with a tuft of grass and a piece of thin muslin. in a fortnight, he found some hundreds of eggs deposited, of an oval shape and a pale-yellow colour. placing the glass in a cellar, the eggs were hatched towards autumn, and the grubs increased remarkably in size. in the following may they fed so voraciously that they required a fresh turf every second day; and even this proving too scanty provender, he sowed in several garden pots a crop of peas, lentils, and salad, and when the plants came up he put a pair of grubs in each pot; and in this manner he fed them through the second and third years. during this period, they cast their skins three or four times, going for this purpose deeper into the earth, and burrowing out a hole where they might effect their change undisturbed; and they do the same in winter, during which they become torpid and do not eat. [illustration: transformations of the cockchafer (_melolontha vulgaris_). _a_, newly-hatched larvæ. _b_, larva, one year old. _c_, the same larva at the second year of its growth. _d_, the same three years old. _e_, section of a bank of earth, containing the chrysalis of the fourth year. _f_, the chafer first emerging from the earth. _g_, the perfect chafer in a sitting posture. _h_, the same flying] when the grub changes into a pupa, in the third autumn after it is hatched, it digs a similar burrow about a yard deep; and when kept in a pot, and prevented from going deep enough, it shows great uneasiness and often dies. the perfect beetle comes forth from the pupa in january or february; but it is then as soft as it was whilst still a grub, and does not acquire its hardness and colour for ten or twelve days, nor does it venture above ground before may, in the fourth year from the time of its hatching. at this time, the beetles may be observed issuing from their holes in the evening, and dashing themselves about in the air as if blind. during the three summers then of their existence in the grub state, these insects do immense injury, burrowing between the turf and the soil, and devouring the roots of grass and other plants; so that the turf may easily be rolled off, as if cut by a turfing spade, while the soil underneath for an inch or more is turned into soft mould like the bed of a garden. mr. anderson, of norwich, mentions having seen a whole field of fine flourishing grass so undermined by these grubs, that in a few weeks it became as dry, brittle, and withered as hay.[ck] bingley also tells us that "about sixty years ago, a farm near norwich was so infested with cockchafers, that the farmer and his servants affirmed they gathered eighty bushels of them; and the grubs had done so much injury, that the court of the city, in compassion to the poor fellow's misfortune, allowed him twenty-five pounds."[cl] in the year 1785, a farmer, near blois, in france, employed a number of children and poor persons to destroy the cockchafers at the rate of two liards a hundred, and in a few days they collected fourteen thousand.[cm] "i remember," says salisbury, "seeing in a nursery near bagshot, several acres of young forest trees, particularly larch, the roots of which were completely destroyed by it, so much so that not a single tree was left alive."[cn] we are doubtful, however, whether this was the grub of the cockchafer, and think it more likely to have been that of the green rose-beetle (_cetonia aurata_), which feeds on the roots of trees. _chapter xiv._ architecture of ants.--mason-ants. all the species of ants are social. there are none solitary, as is the case with bees and wasps. they are all more or less skilful in architecture, some employing masonry, and others being carpenters, wood-carvers, and miners. they consequently afford much that is interesting to naturalists who observe their operations. the genuine history of ants has only been recently investigated, first by gould in 1747, and subsequently by linnæus, de geer, huber, and latreille. previous to that time their real industry and their imagined foresight were held up as moral lessons, without any great accuracy of observation; and it is probable that, even now, the mixture of truth and error in addison's delightful papers in the guardian (nos. 156, 157) may be more generally attractive than the minute relation of careful naturalists. gould disproved, most satisfactorily, the ancient fable of ants storing up corn for winter provision, no species of ants ever eating grain, or feeding in the winter upon anything. it is to huber the younger, however, that we are chiefly indebted for our knowledge of the habits and economy of ants; and to latreille for a closer distinction of the species. some of the more interesting species, whose singular economy is described by the younger huber, have not been hitherto found in this country. we shall, however, discover matter of very considerable interest in those which are indigenous; and as our principal object is to excite inquiry and observation with regard to those insects which may be easily watched in our own gardens and fields, we shall chiefly confine ourselves to the ants of these islands. we shall begin with the labours of those native ants which may be called earth-masons, from their digging in the ground, and forming structures with pellets of moistened loam, clay, or sand. mason-ants. we have used in the preceding pages the terms _mason-bees_ and _mason-wasps_, for insects which build their nests of earthy materials. on the same principle, we have followed the ingenious m. huber the younger, in employing the term mason-ants for those whose nests on the exterior appear to be hillocks of earth, without the admixture of other materials, whilst in the interior they present a series of labyrinths, lodges, vaults, and galleries constructed with considerable skill. of these mason-ants, as of the mason-wasps and bees already described, there are several species, differing from one another in their skill in the art of architecture. one of the most common of the ant-masons is the turf-ant (_formica cæspitum_, latr.), which is very small and of a blackish-brown colour. its architecture is not upon quite so extensive a scale as some of the others; but, though slight, it is very ingenious. sometimes they make choice of the shelter of a flat stone or other covering, beneath which they hollow out chambers and communicating galleries; at other times they are contented with the open ground; but most commonly they select a tuft of grass or other herbage, the stems of which serve for columns to their earthen walls. we had a small colony of these ants accidentally established in a flower-pot, in which we were rearing some young plants of the tiger-lily (_lilium tigrinum_), the stems of which being stronger than the grass where they usually build, enabled them to rear their edifice higher, and also to make it more secure, than they otherwise might. it was wholly formed of small grains of moist earth, piled up between the stems of the lily without any apparent cement; indeed it has been ascertained by huber, as we shall afterwards see, that they use no cement beside water. this is not always to be procured, as they depend altogether on rains and dew; but they possess the art of joining grains of dry sand so as to support one another, on some similar principle, no doubt, to that of the arch. the nest which our turf-ants constructed in the flower-pot was externally of an imperfect square form, in consequence of its situation; for they usually prefer a circular plan. the principal chambers were placed under the arches, and, when inspected, contained a pile of cocoons, and pupæ. beneath those upper chambers there were others dug out deeper down, in which were also a numerous collection of eggs and cocoons in various stages of advancement. (j. r.) mr. knapp describes a still more curious structure of another species of ant common in this country:--"one year," says he, "on the third of march, my labourer being employed in cutting up ant-hills, or tumps as we call them, exposed to view multitudes of the yellow species (_formica flava_) in their winter's retirement. they were collected in numbers in little cells and compartments, communicating with others by means of narrow passages. in many of the cells they had deposited their larvæ, which they were surrounding and attending, but not brooding over or covering. being disturbed by our rude operations, they removed them from our sight to more hidden compartments. the larvæ were small. some of these ant-hills contained multitudes of the young of the wood-louse (_oniscus armadillo_), inhabiting with perfect familiarity the same compartments as the ants, crawling about with great activity with them, and perfectly domesticated with each other. they were small and white; but the constant vibration of their antennæ, and the alacrity of their motions, manifested a healthy vigour. the ants were in a torpid state; but on being removed into a temperate room, they assumed much of their summer's animation. how these creatures are supported during the winter season it is difficult to comprehend; as in no one instance could we perceive any store or provision made for the supply of their wants. the minute size of the larvæ manifested that they had been recently deposited; and consequently that their parents had not remained during winter in a dormant state, and thus free from the calls of hunger. the preceding month of february, and part of january, had been remarkably severe; the frost had penetrated deep into the earth, and long held it frozen; the ants were in many cases not more than four inches beneath the surface, and must have been enclosed in a mass of frozen soil for a long period; yet they, their young, and the onisci, were perfectly uninjured by it: affording another proof of the fallacy of the commonly received opinion, that cold is _universally_ destructive to insect life."[co] the earth employed by mason-ants is usually moist clay, either dug from the interior parts of their city or moistened by rain. the mining-ants and the ash-coloured (_formica fusca_) employ earth which is probably not selected with so much care, for it forms a much coarser mortar than what we see used in the structure of the yellow ants (_f. flava_) and the brown ants (_f. brunnea_). we have never observed them bringing their building materials of this kind from a distance, like the mason-bees and like the wood or hill ant (_f. rufa_); but they take care, before they fix upon a locality, that it shall produce them all that they require. we are indebted to huber the younger for the most complete account which has hitherto been given of these operations, of which details we shall make free use. "to form," says this shrewd observer, "a correct judgment of the interior arrangement or distribution of an ant-hill, it is necessary to select such as have not been accidentally spoiled, or whose form has not been too much altered by local circumstances; a slight attention will then suffice to show that the habitations of the different species are not all constructed after the same system. thus, the hillock raised by the ash-coloured ants will always present thick walls, fabricated with coarse earth, well-marked stories, and large chambers, with vaulted ceilings, resting upon a solid base. we never observe roads, or galleries, properly so called, but large passages, of an oval form, and all around considerable cavities and extensive embankments of earth. we further notice, that the little architects observe a certain proportion between the large arched ceilings and the pillars that are to support them. "the brown ant (_formica brunnea_), one of the smallest of the ants, is particularly remarkable for the extreme finish of its work. its body is of a reddish shining brown, its head a little deeper, and the antennæ and feet a little lighter in colour. the abdomen is of an obscure brown, the scale narrow, of a square form, and slightly scolloped. the body is one line and two-fifths in length.[cp] "this ant, one of the most industrious of its tribe, forms its nest of stories four or five lines in height. the partitions are not more than half a line in thickness; and the substance of which they are composed is so finely grained, that the inner walls present one smooth unbroken surface. these stories are not horizontal; they follow the slope of the ant-hill, and lie one upon another to the ground-floor, which communicates with the subterranean lodges. they are not always, however, arranged with the same regularity, for these ants do not follow an invariable plan; it appears, on the contrary, that nature has allowed them a certain latitude in this respect, and that they can, according to circumstances, modify them to their wish; but however fantastical their habitations may appear, we always observe they have been formed by concentrical stories. on examining each story separately, we observe a number of cavities or halls, lodges of narrower dimensions, and long galleries, which serve for general communication. the arched ceilings covering the most spacious places are supported either by little columns, slender walls, or by regular buttresses. we also notice chambers, that have but one entrance, communicating with the lower story, and large open spaces, serving as a kind of cross-road (_carrefour_), in which all the streets terminate. "such is the manner in which the habitations of these ants are constructed. upon opening them, we commonly find the apartments, as well as the large open spaces, filled with adult ants; and always observed their pupæ collected in the apartments more or less near the surface. this, however, seems regulated by the hour of the day, and the temperature: for in this respect these ants are endowed with great sensibility, and know the degree of heat best adapted for their young. the ant-hill contains, sometimes, more than twenty stories in its upper portion, and at least as many under the surface of the ground. by this arrangement the ants are enabled, with the greatest facility, to regulate the heat. when a too-burning sun overheats their upper apartments, they withdraw their little ones to the bottom of the ant-hill. the ground-floor becoming, in its turn, uninhabitable during the rainy season, the ants of this species transport what most interests them to the higher stories; and it is there we find them more usually assembled, with their eggs and pupæ, when the subterranean apartments are submerged."[cq] ants have a great dislike to water, when it exceeds that of a light shower to moisten their building materials. one species, mentioned by azara as indigenous to south america, instinctively builds a nest from three to six feet high,[cr] to provide against the inundations during the rainy season. even this, however, does not always save them from submersion; and, when that occurs, they are compelled, in order to prevent themselves from being swept away, to form a group somewhat similar to the curtain of the wax-workers of hive-bees (see p. 133). the ants constituting the basis of this group lay hold of some shrub for security, while their companions hold on by them; and thus the whole colony, forming an animated raft, floats on the surface of the water till the inundation (which seldom continues longer than a day or two) subsides. we confess, however, that we are somewhat sceptical respecting this story, notwithstanding the very high character of the spanish naturalist. it is usual with architectural insects to employ some animal secretion, by way of mortar or size, to temper the materials with which they work; but the whole economy of ants is so different, that it would be wrong to infer from analogy a similarity in this respect, though the exquisite polish and extreme delicacy of finish in their structures lead, naturally, to such a conclusion. m. p. huber, in order to resolve this question, at first thought of subjecting the materials of the walls to chemical analysis, but wisely (as we think) abandoned it for the surer method of observation. the details which he has given, as the result of his researches, are exceedingly curious and instructive. he began by observing an ant-hill till he could perceive some change in its form. "the inhabitants," says he, "of that which i selected, kept within during the day, or only went out by subterranean galleries which opened at some feet distance in the meadow. there were, however, two or three small openings on the surface of the nest; but i saw none of the labourers pass out this way, on account of their being too much exposed to the sun, which these insects greatly dread. this ant-hill, which had a round form, rose in the grass, at the border of a path, and had sustained no injury. i soon perceived that the freshness of the air and the dew invited the ants to walk over the surface of their nest; they began making new apertures; several ants might be seen arriving at the same time, thrusting their heads from the entrances, moving about their antennæ, and at length adventuring forth to visit the environs. "this brought to my recollection a singular opinion of the ancients. they believed that ants were occupied in their architectural labours during the night, when the moon was at its full."[cs] m. latreille discovered a species of ants which were, so far as he could ascertain, completely blind,[ct] and of course it would be immaterial to them whether they worked by night or during the day. all observers indeed agree that ants labour in the night, and a french naturalist is therefore of opinion that they never sleep--a circumstance which is well ascertained with respect to other animals, such as the shark, which will track a ship in full sail for weeks together.[cu] the ingenious historian of english ants, gould, says they never intermit their labours by night or by day, except when compelled by excessive rains. it is probable the ancients were mistaken in asserting that they only work when the moon shines;[cv] for, like bees, they seem to find no difficulty in building in the dark, their subterranean apartments being as well finished as the upper stories of their buildings. but to proceed with the narrative of m. p. huber. "having thus noticed the movements of these insects during the night, i found they were almost always abroad and engaged about the dome of their habitation after sunset. this was directly the reverse of what i had observed in the conduct of the wood-ants (_f. rufa_), who only go out during the day, and close their doors in the evening. the contrast was still more remarkable than i had previously supposed; for, upon visiting the brown ants some days after, during a gentle rain, i saw all their architectural talents in full play. "as soon as the rain commenced, they left in great numbers their subterranean residence, re-entered it almost immediately, and then returned, bearing between their teeth pellets of earth, which they deposited on the roof of their nest. i could not at first conceive what this was meant for, but at length i saw little walls start up on all sides with spaces left between them. in several places, columns, ranged at regular distances, announced halls, lodges, and passages which the ants proposed establishing; in a word, it was the rough beginning of a new story. "i watched with a considerable degree of interest the most trifling movements of my masons, and found they did not work after the manner of wasps and humble-bees, when occupied in constructing a covering to their nest. the latter sit, as it were, astride on the border or margin of the covering, and take it between their teeth to model and attenuate it according to their wish. the wax of which it is composed, and the paper which the wasp employs, moistened by some kind of glue, are admirably adapted for this purpose, but the earth of which the ants make use, from its often possessing little tenacity, must be worked up after some other manner. "each ant, then, carried between its teeth the pellet of earth it had formed by scraping with the end of its mandibles the bottom of its abode, a circumstance which i have frequently witnessed in open day. this little mass of earth, being composed of particles but just united, could be readily kneaded and moulded as the ants wished; thus when they had applied it to the spot where they had to rest, they divided and pressed against it with their teeth, so as to fill up the little inequalities of their wall. the antennæ followed all their movements, passing over each particle of earth as soon as it was placed in its proper position. the whole was then rendered more compact by pressing it lightly with the fore-feet. this work went on remarkably fast. after having traced out the plan of their masonry, in laying here and there foundations for the pillars and partitions they were about to erect, they raised them gradually higher, by adding fresh materials. it often happened that two little walls, which were to form a gallery, were raised opposite, and at a slight distance from each other. when they had attained the height of four or five lines, the ants busied themselves in covering in the space left between them by a vaulted ceiling. "as if they judged all their partitions of sufficient elevation, they then quitted their labours in the upper part of the building; they affixed to the interior and upper part of each wall fragments of moistened earth, in an almost horizontal direction, and in such a way as to form a ledge, which, by extension, would be made to join that coming from the opposite wall. these ledges were about half a line in thickness; and the breadth of the galleries was, for the most part, about a quarter of an inch. on one side several vertical partitions were seen to form the scaffolding of a lodge, which communicated with several corridors by apertures formed in the masonry; on another, a regularly-formed hall was constructed, the vaulted ceiling of which was sustained by numerous pillars; further off, again, might be recognised the rudiments of one of those cross roads of which i have before spoken, and in which several avenues terminate. these parts of the ant-hill were the most spacious; the ants, however, did not appear embarrassed in constructing the ceiling to cover them in, although they were often more than two inches in breadth. "in the upper part of the angles formed by the different walls, they laid the first foundations of this ceiling, and from the top of each pillar, as from so many centres, a layer of earth, horizontal and slightly convex, was carried forward to meet the several portions coming from different points of the large public thoroughfare. "i sometimes, however, laboured under an apprehension that the building could not possibly resist its own weight, and that such extensive ceilings, sustained only by a few pillars, would fall into ruin from the rain which continually dropped upon them; but i was quickly convinced of their stability, from observing that the earth brought by these insects adhered at all points, on the slightest contact; and that the rain, so far from lessening the cohesion of its particles, appeared even to increase it. thus, instead of injuring the building, it even contributed to render it still more secure. "these particles of moistened earth, which are only held together by juxtaposition, require a fall of rain to cement them more closely, and thus varnish over, as it were, those places where the walls and galleries remain uncovered. all inequalities in the masonry then disappear. the upper part of these stories, formed of several pieces brought together, presents but one single layer of compact earth. they require for their complete consolidation nothing but the heat of the sun. it sometimes, however, happens that a violent rain will destroy the apartments, especially should they be but slightly arched; but under these circumstances the ants reconstruct them with wonderful patience. "these different labours were carried on at the same time, and were so closely followed up in the different quarters, that the ant-hill received an additional story in the course of seven or eight hours. all the vaulted ceilings being formed upon a regular plan, and at equal distances from one wall to the other, constituted, when finished, but one single roof. scarcely had the ants finished one story than they began to construct another; but they had not time to finish it--the rain ceasing before the ceiling was fully completed. they still, however, continued their work for a few hours, taking advantage of the humidity of the earth; but a keen north wind soon sprung up, and hastily dried the collected fragments, which, no longer possessing the same adherence, readily fell into powder. the ants, finding their efforts ineffectual, were at length discouraged, and abandoned their employment; but what was my astonishment when i saw them destroy all the apartments that were yet uncovered, scattering here and there over the last story the materials of which they had been composed! these facts incontestably prove that they employ neither gum, nor any kind of cement, to bind together the several substances of their nest; but in place of this avail themselves of the rain, to work or knead the earth, leaving the sun and wind to dry and consolidate it."[cw] dr. johnson of bristol observed very similar proceedings in the case of a colony of red ants (_myrmica rubra?_), the roof of whose nest was formed by a flat stone. during dry weather, a portion of the side walls fell in; but the rubbish was quickly removed, though no repairs were attempted till a shower of rain enabled them to work. as soon as this occurred, they worked with extraordinary rapidity, and in a short time the whole of the fallen parts were rebuilt, and rendered as smooth as if polished with a trowel. when a gardener wishes to water a plot of ground where he has sown seeds that require nice management, he dips a strong brush into water, and passes his hand backwards and forwards over the hairs for the purpose of producing a fine artificial shower. huber successfully adopted the same method to excite his ants to recommence their labours, which had been interrupted for want of moisture. but sometimes, when they deem it unadvisable to wait for rain, they dig down (as we remarked to be the practice of the mason-bees) till they arrive at earth sufficiently moist for their purpose. they do not, however, like these bees, merely dig for materials; for they use the excavations for apartments, as well as what they construct with the materials thence derived. they appear, in short, to be no less skilful in mining than in building. such is the general outline of the operations of this singular species; but we are still more interested with the history which m. p. huber has given of the labours of an individual ant. "one rainy day," he says, "i observed a labourer of the dark ash-coloured species (_formica fusca_) digging the ground near the aperture which gave entrance to the ant-hill. it placed in a heap the several fragments it had scraped up, and formed them into small pellets, which it deposited here and there upon the nest. it returned constantly to the same place, and appeared to have a particular design, for it laboured with ardour and perseverance. i remarked a slight furrow, excavated in the ground in a straight line, representing the plan of a path or gallery. the labourer (the whole of whose movements fell under my immediate observation) gave it greater depth and breadth, and cleared out its borders; and i saw, at length--in which i could not be deceived--that it had the intention of establishing an avenue which was to lead from one of the stories to the underground chambers. this path, which was about two or three inches in length, and formed by a single ant, was opened above, and bordered on each side by a buttress of earth. its concavity, in the form of a pipe (_gouttière_), was of the most perfect regularity: for the architect had not left an atom too much. the work of this ant was so well followed and understood, that i could almost to a certainty guess its next proceeding, and the very fragment it was about to remove. at the side of the opening where this path terminated was a second opening, to which it was necessary to arrive by some road. the same ant began and finished this undertaking without assistance. it furrowed out and opened another path, parallel to the first, leaving between each a little wall of three or four lines in height." like the hive-bees, ants do not seem to work in concert, but each individual separately. there is, consequently, an occasional want of coincidence in the walls and arches; but this does not much embarrass them, for a worker, on discovering an error of this kind, seems to know how to rectify it, as appears from the following observations:-"a wall," says m. huber, "had been erected, with the view of sustaining a vaulted ceiling, still incomplete, that had been projected towards the wall of the opposite chamber. the workman who began constructing it had given it too little elevation to meet the opposite partition, upon which it was to rest. had it been continued on the original plan, it must infallibly have met the wall at about one-half of its height; and this it was necessary to avoid. this state of things very forcibly claimed my attention; when one of the ants arriving at the place, and visiting the works, appeared to be struck by the difficulty which presented itself; but this it as soon obviated, by taking down the ceiling, and raising the wall upon which it reposed. it then, in my presence, constructed a new ceiling with the fragments of the former one. "when the ants commence any undertaking, one would suppose that they worked after some preconceived idea, which, indeed, would seem verified by the execution. thus, should any ant discover upon the nest two stalks of plants which lie crossways, a disposition favourable to the construction of a lodge, or some little beams that may be useful in forming its angles and sides, it examines the several parts with attention; then distributes, with much sagacity and address, parcels of earth in the spaces, and along the stems, taking from every quarter materials adapted to its object, sometimes not caring to destroy the work that others had commenced; so much are its motions regulated by the idea it has conceived, and upon which it acts, with little attention to all else around it. it goes and returns, until the plan is sufficiently understood by its companions. "in another part of the same ant-hill," continues m. huber, "several fragments of straw seemed expressly placed to form the roof of a large house: a workman took advantage of this disposition. these fragments lying horizontally, at half-an-inch distance from the ground, formed, in crossing each other, an oblong parallelogram. the industrious insect commenced by placing earth in the several angles of this framework, and all along the little beams of which it was composed. the same workman afterwards placed several rows of the same materials against each other, when the roof became very distinct. on perceiving the possibility of profiting by another plant to support a vertical wall, it began laying the foundations of it; other ants having by this time arrived, finished in common what this had commenced."[cx] [illustration] m. huber made most of his observations upon the processes followed by ants in glazed artificial hives or formicaries. the preceding figure represents a view of one of his formicaries of mason-ants. we have ourselves followed up his observations, both on natural ant-hills and in artificial formicaries. on digging cautiously into a natural ant-hill, established upon the edge of a garden-walk, we were enabled to obtain a pretty complete view of the interior structure. there were two stories, composed of large chambers, irregularly oval, communicating with each other by arched galleries, the walls of all which were as smooth and well-polished as if they had been passed over by a plasterer's trowel. the floors of the chambers, we remarked, were by no means either horizontal or level, but all more or less sloped, and exhibiting in each chamber at least two slight depressions of an irregular shape. we left the under story of this nest untouched, with the notion that the ants might repair the upper galleries, of which we had made a vertical section; but instead of doing so they migrated during the day to a large crack formed by the dryness of the weather, about a yard from their old nest. (j. r.) [illustration] we put a number of yellow ants (_formica flava_), with their eggs and cocoons, into a small glass frame, more than half full of moist sand taken from their native hill, and placed in a sloping position, in order to see whether they would bring the nearly vertical, and therefore insecure, portion to a level by masonry. we were delighted to perceive that they immediately resolved upon performing the task which had been assigned them, though they did not proceed very methodically in their manner of building; for instead of beginning at the bottom and building upwards, many of them went on to add to the top of the outer surface, which increased rather than diminished the insecurity of the whole. withal, however, they seemed to know how far to go, for no portion of the newly-built wall fell; and in two days they had not only reared a pyramidal mound to prop the rest, but had constructed several galleries and chambers for lodging the cocoons, which we had scattered at random amongst the sand. the new portion of this building is represented in the figure as supporting the upper and insecure parts of the nest. [illustration] we are sorry to record that our ingenious little masons were found upon the third day strewed about the outside of the building dead or dying, either from over-fatigue or perhaps from surfeit, as we had supplied them with as much honey as they could devour. a small colony of turf-ants have at this moment (july 28th, 1829) taken possession of the premises of their own accord. (j. r.) _chapter xv._ structures of the wood-ant or pismire, and of carpenter-ants. the largest of our british ants is that called the hill-ant by gould, the fallow-ant by the english translator of huber, and popularly the pismire; but which we think may be more appropriately named the wood-ant (_formica rufa_, latr.), from its invariable habit of living in or near woods and forests. this insect may be readily distinguished from other ants by the dusky black colour of its head and hinder parts, and the rusty brown of its middle. the structures reared by this species are often of considerable magnitude, and bear no small resemblance to a rook's nest thrown upon the ground bottom upwards. they occur in abundance in the woods near london, and in many other parts of the country: in oak of honour wood alone, we are acquainted with the localities of at least two dozen,--some in the interior, and others on the hedge-banks on the outskirts of the wood. (j. r.) the exterior of the nest is composed of almost every transportable material which the colonists can find in their vicinity; but the greater portion consists of the stems of withered grass and short twigs of trees, piled up in apparent confusion, but with sufficient regularity to render the whole smooth, conical, and sloping towards the base, for the purpose, we may infer, of carrying off rain-water. when within reach of a corn-field, they often also pick up grains of wheat, barley, or oats, and carry them to the nest as building materials, and not for food, as was believed by the ancients. there are wonders enough observable in the economy of ants, without having recourse to fancy--wonders which made aristotle extol the sagacity of bloodless animals, and cicero ascribe to them not only sensation, but mind, reason, and memory.[cy] ælian, however, describes, as if he had actually witnessed it, the ants ascending a stalk of growing corn, and throwing down "the ears which they bit off to their companions below." aldrovand assures us that he had seen their granaries; and others pretend that they shrewdly bite off the ends of the grain to prevent it from germinating.[cz] these are fables which accurate observation has satisfactorily contradicted. [illustration: nest of wood-ant.] but these errors, as it frequently happens, have contributed to a more perfect knowledge of the insects than we might otherwise have obtained; for it was the wish to prove or disprove the circumstance of their storing up and feeding upon grain which led gould to make his observations on english ants; as the notion of insects being produced _from_ putrid carcases had before led redi to his ingenious experiments on their generation. yet, although it is more than eighty years since gould's book was published, we find the error still repeated in very respectable publications.[da] the coping which we above described as forming the exterior of the wood-ant's nest, is only a small portion of the structure, which consists of a great number of interior chambers and galleries, with funnel-shaped avenues leading to them. the coping, indeed, is one of the most essential parts, and we cannot follow a more delightful guide than the younger huber in detailing its formation. "the labourers," he says, "of which the colony is composed, not only work continually on the outside of their nest, but, differing very essentially from other species, who willingly remain in the interior, sheltered from the sun, they prefer living in the open air, and do not hesitate to carry on, even in our presence, the greater part of their operations. "to have an idea how the straw or stubble-roof is formed, let us take a view of the ant-hill at its origin, when it is simply a cavity in the earth. some of its future inhabitants are seen wandering about in search of materials fit for the exterior work, with which, though rather irregularly, they cover up the entrance; whilst others are employed in mixing the earth, thrown up in hollowing the interior, with fragments of wood and leaves, which are every moment brought in by their fellow-assistants; and this gives a certain consistence to the edifice, which increases in size daily. our little architects leave here and there cavities, where they intend constructing the galleries which are to lead to the exterior, and as they remove in the morning the barriers placed at the entrance of their nest the preceding evening, the passages are kept open during the whole time of its construction. we soon observed the roof to become convex; but we should be greatly deceived did we consider it solid. this roof is destined to include many apartments or stories. having observed the motions of these little builders through a pane of glass, adjusted against one of their habitations, i am thence enabled to speak with some degree of certainty upon the manner in which they are constructed. i ascertained that it is by excavating or mining the under portion of their edifice that they form their spacious halls--low, indeed, and of heavy construction, yet sufficiently convenient for the use to which they are appropriated, that of receiving, at certain hours of the day, the larvæ and pupæ. "these halls have a free communication by galleries, made in the same manner. if the materials of which the ant-hill is composed were only interlaced, they would fall into a confused heap every time the ants attempted to bring them into regular order. this, however, is obviated by their tempering the earth with rain-water, which, afterwards hardened in the sun, so completely and effectually binds together the several substances, as to permit the removal of certain fragments from the ant-hill without any injury to the rest; it, moreover, strongly opposes the introduction of the rain. i never found, even after long and violent rains, the interior of the nest wetted to more than a quarter of an inch from the surface, provided it had not been previously out of repair, or deserted by its inhabitants. "the ants are extremely well sheltered in their chambers, the largest of which is placed nearly in the centre of the building; it is much loftier than the rest, and traversed only by the beams that support the ceiling; it is in this spot that all the galleries terminate, and this forms, for the most part, their usual residence. "as to the underground portion, it can only be seen when the ant-hill is placed against a declivity; all the interior may be then readily brought in view, by simply raising up the straw roof. the subterranean residence consists of a range of apartments, excavated in the earth, taking an horizontal direction."[db] [it seems rather surprising that the wood-ants should be able, with such materials as they employ, to make a dome-shaped structure, which shall be furnished with cells and galleries, and yet shall endure rain and wind, without being penetrated by the one or blown away by the other. if the hill be closely examined, the little sticks of which it is composed will be seen to have a definite, though not very regular arrangement; and it is a noteworthy circumstance that the longest are preserved for the galleries, being laid across each other in a very ingenious manner, so as to prevent the material from falling and filling up the galleries. this structure was shown very clearly in a huge ant-hill in bagshot park. we introduced a sheet of plate glass into the nest, so as to divide it perpendicularly into two halves, and having given the insects six weeks to repair damages, we removed one half of the hill, so that the whole interior of the other half could be seen through the glass. the whole economy of the nest was thus made clear, and the artificial arrangement of the materials showed itself very plainly on the roofs of the cells and galleries.] [illustration] m. p. huber, in order to observe the operations of the wood-ant with more attention, transferred colonies of them to his artificial formicaries, plunging the feet of the stand into water to prevent their escape till they were reconciled to their abode, and had made some progress in repairing it. [under the glass shade on the top of the formicary may be seen the mound which the wood-ants have raised, according to their custom, and below, through the glass front, the reader may see the various passages and cells which communicate with the hill above. as the ants require that the lower part of their dwelling should be in darkness, a stout wooden door can be shut over the glass to exclude the light.] there is this remarkable difference in the nest of the wood-ants, that they do not construct a long covert way as if for concealment, as the yellow and the brown ants do. the wood-ants are not, like them, afraid of being surprised by enemies, at least during the day, when the whole colony is either foraging in the vicinity or employed on the exterior. but the proceedings of the wood-ants at night are well worthy of notice; and when m. huber began to study their economy, he directed his entire attention to their night proceedings. "i remarked," says he, "that their habitations changed in appearance hourly, and that the diameter of those spacious avenues, where so many ants could freely pass each other during the day, was, as night approached, gradually lessened. the aperture, at length, totally disappeared, the dome was closed on all sides, and the ants retired to the bottom of their nest. "in further noticing the apertures of these ant-hills, i fully ascertained the nature of the labour of its inhabitants, of which i could not before even guess the purport; for the surface of the nest presented such a constant scene of agitation, and so many insects were occupied in carrying materials in every direction, that the movement offered no other image than that of confusion. "i saw then clearly that they were engaged in stopping up passages; and for this purpose they at first brought forward little pieces of wood, which they deposited near the entrance of those avenues they wished to close; they placed them in the stubble; they then went to seek other twigs and fragments of wood, which they disposed above the first, but in a different direction, and appeared to choose pieces of less size in proportion as the work advanced. they, at length, brought in a number of dried leaves, and other materials of an enlarged form, with which they covered the roof: an exact miniature of the art of our builders, when they form the covering of any building. nature, indeed, seems everywhere to have anticipated the inventions of which we boast, and this is doubtless one of the most simple. "our little insects, now in safety in their nest, retire gradually to the interior before the last passages are closed; one or two only remain without, or concealed behind the doors on guard, while the rest either take their repose, or engage in different occupations in the most perfect security. i was impatient to know what took place in the morning upon these ant-hills, and therefore visited them at an early hour. i found them in the same state in which i had left them the preceding evening. a few ants were wandering about on the surface of the nest, some others issued from time to time from under the margin of their little roofs formed at the entrance of the galleries; others afterwards came forth, who began removing the wooden bars that blockaded the entrance, in which they readily succeeded. this labour occupied them several hours. the passages were at length free, and the materials with which they had been closed scattered here and there over the ant-hill. every day, morning and evening, during the fine weather, i was a witness to similar proceedings. on days of rain the doors of all the ant-hills remained closed. when the sky was cloudy in the morning, or rain was indicated, the ants, who seemed to be aware of it, opened but in part their several avenues, and immediately closed them when the rain commenced."[dc] the galleries and chambers which are roofed in as thus described are very similar to those of the mason-ants, being partly excavated in the earth, and partly built with the clay thence procured. it is in these they pass the night, and also the colder months of the winter, when they become torpid, or nearly so, and of course require not the winter granaries of corn with which the ancients fabulously furnished them. carpenter-ants. the ants that work in wood perform much more extensive operations than any of the other carpenter insects which we have mentioned. their only tools, like those of bees and wasps, are their jaws or mandibles; but though these may not appear so curiously constructed as the ovipositor file of the tree-hopper (_cicada_), or the rasp and saw of the saw-flies (_tenthredinidæ_), they are no less efficient in the performance of what is required. among the carpenter-ants, the emmet or jet-ant (_f. fuliginosa_) holds the first rank, and is easily known by being rather less in size than the wood-ant, and by its fine shining black colour. it is less common in britain than some of the preceding, though its colonies may occasionally be met with in the trunks of decaying oak or willow trees in hedges. "the labourers," says huber, "of this species work always in the interior of trees, and are desirous of being screened from observation: thus every hope on our part is precluded of following them in their several occupations. i tried every expedient i could devise to surmount this difficulty; i endeavoured to accustom these ants to live and work under my inspection, but all my efforts were unsuccessful; they even abandoned the most considerable portion of their nest to seek some new asylum, and spurned the honey and sugar which i offered them for nourishment. i was now, by necessity, limited to the inspection only of their edifices: but, by decomposing some of the fragments with care, i hoped to acquire some knowledge of their organization. "on one side i found horizontal galleries, hidden in great part by their walls, which follow the circular direction of the layers of the wood; and on another, parallel galleries, separated by extremely thin partitions, having no communication except by a few oval apertures. such is the nature of these works, remarkable for their delicacy and lightness. "in other fragments i found avenues which opened laterally, including portions of walls and transverse partitions, erected here and there within the galleries, so as to form separate chambers. when the work is further advanced, round holes are always observed, encased, as it were, between two pillars cut out in the same wall. these holes in course of time become square, and the pillars, originally arched at both ends, are worked into regular columns by the chisel of our sculptors. this, then, is the second specimen of their art. this portion of the edifice will probably remain in this state. "but in another quarter are fragments differently wrought, in which these same partitions, pierced now in every part, and hewn skilfully, are transformed into colonnades, which sustain the upper stories, and leave a free communication throughout the whole extent. it can readily be perceived how parallel galleries, hollowed out upon the same plan, and the sides taken down, leaving only from space to space what is necessary to sustain their ceilings, may form an entire story; but as each has been pierced separately, the flooring cannot be very level: this, however, the ants turn to their advantage, since these furrows are better adapted to retain the larvæ that may be placed there. [illustration: portion of a tree, with chambers and galleries chiseled out by jet-ants.] "the stories constructed in the great roots offer greater irregularity than those in the very body of the tree, arising either from the hardness and interlacing of the fibres, which renders the labour more difficult, and obliges the labourers to depart from their accustomed manner, or from their not observing in the extremities of their edifice the same arrangement as in the centre: whatever it be, horizontal stories and numerous partitions are still found. if the work be less regular, it becomes more delicate; for the ants, profiting by the hardness and solidity of the materials, give to their building an extreme degree of lightness. i have seen fragments of from eight to ten inches in length, and of equal height, formed of wood as thin as paper, containing a number of apartments, and presenting a most singular appearance. at the entrance of these apartments, worked out with so much care, are very considerable openings; but in place of chambers and extensive galleries, the layers of the wood are hewn in arcades, allowing the ants a free passage in every direction. these may be regarded as the gates or vestibules conducting to the several lodges."[dd] it is a singular circumstance in the structures of these ants, that all the wood which they carve is tinged of a black colour, as if it were smoked; and m. huber was not a little solicitous to discover whence this arose. it certainly does not add to the beauty of their streets, which look as sombre as the most smoke-dyed walls in the older lanes of the metropolis. m. huber could not satisfy himself whether it was caused by the exposure of the wood to the atmosphere, by some emanation from the ants, or by the thin layers of wood being acted upon or decomposed by the formic acid.[de] but if any or all of these causes operated in blackening the wood, we should be ready to anticipate a similar effect in the case of other species of ants which inhabit trees; yet the black tint is only found in the excavations of the jet-ant. we are acquainted with several colonies of the jet-ants (_formica fuliginosa_)--one of which, in the roots and trunk of an oak on the road from lewisham to sydenham, near brockley, in kent, is so extremely populous, that the numbers of its inhabitants appeared to us beyond any reasonable estimate. none of the other colonies of this species which we have seen appear to contain many hundreds. on cutting into the root of the before-mentioned tree, we found the vertical excavations of much larger dimensions, both in width and depth, than those represented by huber in the preceding cut (page 302). what surprised us the most was to see the tree growing vigorously and fresh, though its roots were chiseled in all directions by legions of workers, while every leaf, and every inch of the bark, was also crowded by parties of foragers. on one of the low branches we found a deserted nest of the white-throat (_sylvia cinerea_, temminck), in the cavity of which they were piled upon one another as close as the unhappy negroes in the hold of a slave-ship; but we could not discover what had attracted them hither. another dense group, collected on one of the branches, led us to the discovery of a very singular oak gall, formed on the bark in the shape of a pointed cone, and crowded together. it is probable that the juice which they extracted from these galls was much to their taste. (j. r.) [illustration: f. fuliginosa.] beside the jet-ant, several other species exercise the art of carpentry,--nay, what is more wonderful still, they have the ingenuity to knead up, with spider's-web for a cement, the chips which they chisel out into a material with which they construct entire chambers. the species which exercise this singular art are the ethiopian (_formica nigra_) and the yellow ant (_f. flava_).[df] we once observed the dusky ants (_f. fusca_) at blackheath, in kent, busily employed in carrying out chips from the interior of a decaying black poplar, at the root of which a colony was established; but, though it thence appears that this species can chisel wood if they choose, yet they usually burrow in the earth, and by preference, as we have remarked, at the root of a tree, the leaves of which supply them with food. * * * * * among the foreign ants we may mention a small yellow ant of south america, described by dampier, which seems, from his account, to construct a nest of green leaves. "their sting," he says, "is like a spark of fire; and they are so thick among the boughs in some places, that one shall be covered with them before he is aware. these creatures have nests on great trees, placed on the body between the limbs: some of their nests are as big as a hogshead. this is their winter habitation; for in the wet season they all repair to these their cities, where they preserve their eggs. in the dry season, when they leave their nests, they swarm all over the woodlands, for they never trouble the savannahs. great paths, three or four inches broad, made by them, may be seen in the woods. they go out light, but bring home heavy loads on their backs, all of the same substance, and equal in size. i never observed anything besides pieces of green leaves, so big that i could scarcely see the insect for his burthen; yet they would march stoutly, and so many were pressing forward that it was a very pretty sight, for the path looked perfectly green with them." ants observed in new south wales, by the gentlemen in the expedition under captain cook, are still more interesting. "some," we are told, "are as green as a leaf, and live upon trees, where they build their nests of various sizes, between that of a man's head and his fist. these nests are of a very curious structure: they are formed by bending down several of the leaves, each of which is as broad as a man's hand, and gluing the points of them together, so as to form a purse. the viscous matter used for this purpose is an animal juice which nature has enabled them to elaborate. their method of first bending down the leaves we had no opportunity to observe; but we saw thousands uniting all their strength to hold them in this position, while other busy multitudes were employed within in applying this gluten that was to prevent their returning back. to satisfy ourselves that the leaves were bent and held down by the efforts of these diminutive artificers, we disturbed them in their work; and as soon as they were driven from their stations, the leaves on which they were employed sprang up with a force much greater than we could have thought them able to conquer by any combination of their strength. but, though we gratified our curiosity at their expense, the injury did not go unrevenged; for thousands immediately threw themselves upon us, and gave us intolerable pain with their stings, especially those which took possession of our necks and hair, from whence they were not easily driven. their sting was scarcely less painful than that of a bee; but, except it was repeated, the pain did not last more than a minute. "another sort are quite black, and their operation and manner of life are not less extraordinary. their habitations are the inside of the branches of a tree, which they contrive to excavate by working out the pith almost to the extremity of the slenderest twig, the tree at the same time flourishing as if it had no such inmate. when we first found the tree we gathered some of the branches, and were scarcely less astonished than we should have been to find that we had profaned a consecrated grove, where every tree, upon being wounded, gave signs of life; for we were instantly covered with legions of these animals, swarming from every broken bough, and inflicting their stings with incessant violence. "a third kind we found nested in the root of a plant, which grows on the bark of trees in the manner of mistletoe, and which they had perforated for that use. this root is commonly as big as a large turnip, and sometimes much bigger. when we cut it we found it intersected by innumerable winding passages, all filled with these animals, by which, however, the vegetation of the plant did not appear to have suffered any injury. we never cut one of these roots that was not inhabited, though some were not bigger than a hazel-nut. the animals themselves are very small, not more than half as big as the common red ant in england. they had stings, but scarcely force enough to make them felt: they had, however, a power of tormenting us in an equal, if not in a greater degree; for the moment we handled the root, they swarmed from innumerable holes, and running about those parts of the body that were uncovered, produced a titillation more intolerable than pain, except it is increased to great violence."[dg] the species called sugar-ants in the west indies are particularly destructive to the sugar-cane, as well as to lime, lemon, and orange-trees, by excavating their nests at the roots, and so loosening the earth that they are frequently uprooted and blown down by the winds. if this does not happen, the roots are deprived of due nourishment, and the plants become sickly and die.[dh] [one or two examples of foreign ants are well worthy of notice. the first of them is an insect whose habits bear strongly upon the familiar passage in proverbs, ch. vi. v. 6:- "go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise: which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest." this passage is one that has been often mentioned as a proof that the bible is not to be implicitly trusted. judging from all the species of ants known to entomologists, some writers argue that the author of the proverb in question was ignorant of the real history of the ant, and was taking up a popular fallacy. [still, although the ants of the old world are chiefly carnivorous, or feed on soft substances, and in consequence have not the least idea of hoarding food for the winter, there is one species of brazilian ant which absolutely builds houses, prepares ground, sows seed, reaps the grain, and stores it away for future consumption. it is the agricultural ant, _atta malefaciens_, first described by dr. lincecum, who watched the insect for twelve years before publishing an account that he knew would at first be received with incredulity. the following abstract of his paper appeared in the journal of the linnæan society. "the species which i have named 'agricultural' is a large brownish ant. it dwells in what may be termed paved cities, and like a thrifty, diligent, provident farmer, makes suitable and timely arrangements for the changing seasons. it is, in short, endowed with skill, ingenuity, and untiring patience, sufficient to enable it successfully to contend with the varying exigencies which it may have to encounter in the life conflict. "when it has selected a situation for its habitation, if on ordinary dry ground, it bores a hole, around which it raises the surface three and sometimes six inches, forming a low circular mound, having a very gentle inclination from the centre to the outer border, which on an average is three or four feet from the entrance. but if the location is chosen on low, flat, wet land, liable to inundation, though the ground may be perfectly dry at the time the ant sets to work, it nevertheless elevates the mound, in the form of a pretty sharp cone, to the height of fifteen or twenty inches or more, and makes the entrance near the summit. around the mound, in either case, the ant clears the ground of all obstructions, and levels and marks the surface to the distance of three or four feet from the gate of the city, giving the space the appearance of a handsome pavement, as it really is. "within this paved area not a blade of any green thing is allowed to grow, except a single species of grain-bearing grass. having planted this crop in a circle around, and two or three feet from the centre of the mound, the insect tends and cultivates it with constant care, cutting away all other grasses and weeds that may spring up amongst it, and all around outside the farm circle to the extent of one or two feet more. the cultivated grass grows luxuriantly, and produces a heavy crop of small, white, flinty seeds, which under the microscope very closely resemble ordinary rice. when ripe, it is carefully harvested and carried by the workers, chaff and all, into the granary cells, where it is divested of the chaff and packed away. the chaff is taken out and thrown beyond the limits of the paved area. "during protracted wet weather it sometimes happens that the provision-stores become damp, and are liable to sprout and spoil. in this case, on the first fine day, the ants bring out the damp and damaged grain, and expose it to the sun till it is dry, when they carry it back and pack away all the sound seeds, leaving those that had sprouted to waste. "in a peach orchard not far from my house is a considerable elevation, on which is an extensive bed of rock. in the sand-beds overlying portions of this rock are five cities of the agricultural ants, evidently very ancient. my observations on their manners and customs have been limited to the last twelve years, during which time the inclosure surrounding the orchard has prevented the approach of cattle to the ant-farms. the cities which are outside the inclosure, as well as those protected in it, are at the proper season invariably planted with the ant-rice. the crop may accordingly always be seen springing up within the circle about the 1st of november every year. of late years, however, since the number of farms and cattle has greatly increased, and the latter are eating off the grass much closer than formerly, thus preventing the ripening of the seeds, i notice that the agricultural ant is placing its cities along the turn-rows in the fields, walks in gardens, inside about the gates, &c., where they can cultivate their farms without molestation from the cattle. "there can be no doubt that the particular species of grain-bearing grass mentioned above is intentionally planted. in farmer-like manner the ground upon which it stands is carefully divested of all other grasses and weeds during the time it is growing. when it is ripe, the grain is taken care of, the dry stubble cut away and carried off, the paved area being left unencumbered until the ensuing autumn, when the same ant-rice reappears within the same circle, and receives the same agricultural attention as was bestowed upon the previous crop--and so on, year after year, as i _know_ to be the case, in all situations where the ants' settlements are protected from granivorous animals." this interesting account is simply the result of twelve years' patient investigation on the part of dr. lincecum, who took special care not to invent a theory and to twist facts in accordance with it, but watched the entire proceedings of the insects for a series of years. [illustration: crematogaster.] the preceding illustration represents the rather remarkable nest of an australian ant, belonging to the genus crematogaster. this word signifies "hanging-belly," and the name has been applied to the ant in consequence of the manner in which its abdomen is held up in the air, so that it overhangs the back. as may be seen, the nest is of considerable size, and might from its external appearance be mistaken for that of a wasp. the interior of it, however, is even more elaborate, being full of little covered passages interlacing with each other in a most intricate manner, but all leading to the internal galleries. the two nests which are shown in the next illustration are, if possible, still more remarkable. [illustration] the upper one is found in cayenne, and is made by an insect called the fungus ant (_polyrachis bispinosa_), because the nest looks as if it were made of fungus. it is not, however, composed of that material, but of the fibre of the cotton-tree (_bombax ceiba_). the fibre is in itself very short, barely exceeding an inch in length, but it is cut very much shorter by the ant, who contrives to felt it together in a most curious manner, so that it is hardly possible to trace the course of any one fibre. the size of the nest is, on an average, about eight or nine inches in diameter. the insect itself is given in the preceding illustration, but very much enlarged. if the reader will look at the centre of the body, he will see the projections which have given it the name of _bispinosa_, or two-spined. the lower figure represents the nest of another species of ant belonging to the same genus, and called scientifically, _polyrachis textor_. the nest is most ingeniously made of little pieces of wood and tendrils, put together so as to form a kind of open net-work, through which the interior of the nest is plainly visible. this insect inhabits malacca.] _chapter xvi_. structures of white ants, or termites. when we look back upon the details which we have given of the industry and ingenuity of numerous tribes of insects, both solitary and social, we are induced to think it almost impossible that they could be surpassed. the structures of wasps and bees, and still more those of the wood-ant (_formica rufa_), when placed in comparison with the size of the insects, equal our largest cities compared with the stature of man. but when we look at the buildings erected by the white ants of tropical climates, all that we have been surveying dwindles into insignificance. their industry appears greatly to surpass that of our ants and bees, and they are certainly more skilful in architectural contrivances. the elevation, also, of their edifices is more than five hundred times the height of the builders. were our houses built according to the same proportions, they would be twelve or fifteen times higher than the london monument, and four or five times higher than the pyramids of egypt, with corresponding dimensions in the basements of the edifices. these statements are, perhaps, necessary to impress the extraordinary labours of ants upon the mind; for we are all more or less sensible to the force of comparisons. the analogies between the works of insects and of men are not perfect; for insects are all provided with instruments peculiarly adapted to the end which they instinctively seek, while man has to form a plan by progressive thought, and upon the experience of others, and to complete it with tools which he also invents. the termites do not stand above a quarter of an inch high, while their nests are frequently twelve feet, and jobson mentions some which he had seen as high as twenty feet; "of compass," he adds, "to contain a dozen men, with the heat of the sun baked into that hardness, that we used to hide ourselves in the ragged tops of them when we took up stands to shoot at deer or wild beasts."[di] bishop heber saw a number of these high ant-hills in india, near the principal entrance of the sooty or moorshedabad river. "many of them," he says, "were five or six feet high, and probably seven or eight feet in circumference at the base, partially overgrown with grass and ivy, and looking at a distance like the stumps of decayed trees. i think it is ctesias, among the greek writers, who gives an account alluded to by lucian in his 'cock,' of monstrous ants in india, as large as foxes. the falsehood probably originated in the stupendous fabrics which they rear here, and which certainly might be supposed to be the work of a much larger animal than their real architect."[dj] herodotus has a similar fable of the enormous size and brilliant appearance of the ants of india. nor is it only in constructing dwellings for themselves that the termites of africa and of other hot climates employ their masonic skill. though, like our ants and wasps, they are almost omnivorous, yet wood, particularly when felled and dry, seems their favourite article of food; but they have an utter aversion to feeding in the light, and always eat their way with all expedition to the interior. it thence would seem necessary for them either to leave the bark of a tree, or the outer portion of the beam or door of a house, undevoured, or to eat in open day. they do neither; but are at the trouble of constructing galleries of clay, in which they can conceal themselves, and feed in security. in all their foraging excursions, indeed, they build covert ways, by which they can go out and return to their encampment.[dk] others of the species (for there are several), instead of building galleries, exercise the art of miners, and make their approaches under ground, penetrating beneath the foundation of houses or areas, and rising again either through the floors, or by entering the bottom of the posts that support the building, when they follow the course of the fibres, and make their way to the top, boring holes and cavities in different places as they proceed. multitudes enter the roof, and intersect it with pipes or galleries, formed of wet clay, which serve for passages in all directions, and enable them more readily to fix their habitations in it. they prefer the softer woods, such as pine and fir, which they hollow out with such nicety, that they leave the surface whole, after having eaten away the inside. a shelf or plank attacked in this manner looks solid to the eye, when, if weighed, it will not out-balance two sheets of pasteboard of the same dimensions. it sometimes happens that they carry this operation so far on stakes in the open air, as to render the bark too flexible for their purpose; when they remedy the defect by plastering the whole stick with a sort of mortar which they make with clay, so that, on being struck, the form vanishes, and the artificial covering falls in fragments on the ground. in the woods, when a large tree falls from age or accident, they enter it on the side next the ground, and devour it at leisure, till little more than the bark is left. but in this case they take no precaution of strengthening the outward defence, but leave it in such a state as to deceive an eye unaccustomed to see trees thus gutted of their insides: and "you may as well," says mr. smeathman, "step upon a cloud." it is an extraordinary fact, that when these creatures have formed pipes in the roof of a house, instinct directs them to prevent its fall, which would ensue from their having sapped the posts on which it rests; but as they gnaw away the wood, they fill up the interstices with clay, tempered to a surprising degree of hardness, so that, when the house is pulled down, these posts are transformed from wood to stone. they make the walls of their galleries of the same composition as their nests, varying the materials according to their kind; one species using the red clay, another black clay, and the third a woody substance, cemented with gums, as a security from the attacks of their enemies, particularly the common ant, which, being defended by a strong, horny shell, is more than a match for them, and when it can get at them, rapaciously seizes them, and drags them to its nest for food for its young brood. if any accident breaks down part of their walls, they repair the breach with all speed. instinct guides them to perform their office in the creation, by mostly confining their attacks to trees that are beginning to decay, or such timber as has been severed from its roots for use, and would decay in time. vigorous, healthy trees do not require to be destroyed, and accordingly, these consumers have no taste for them.[dl] m. adanson describes the termites of senegal as constructing covert ways along the surface of wood which they intend to attack; but though we have no reason to distrust so excellent a naturalist, in describing what he saw, it is certain that they more commonly eat their way into the interior of the wood, and afterwards form the galleries, when they find that they have destroyed the wood till it will no longer afford them protection. but it is time that we should come to their principal building, which may, with some propriety, be called a city; and, according to the method we have followed in other instances, we shall trace their labours from the commencement. we shall begin with the operations of the species which may be appropriately termed the warrior (_termes fatalis_, linn.; _t. bellicosus_, smeath.). we must premise, that though they have been termed white _ants_, they do not belong to the same order of insects with our ants; yet they have a slight resemblance to ants in their form, but more in their economy. smeathman, to whom we owe our chief knowledge of the genus, describes them as consisting of kings, queens, soldiers, and workers, and is of opinion that the workers are larvæ, the soldiers nymphæ, and the kings and queens the perfect insects. in this opinion he coincides with sparrmann[dm] and others; but latreille is inclined to think, from what he observed in a european species (_termes lucifugus_) found near bordeaux, that the soldiers form a distinct race, like the neuter workers among bees and ants, while the working termites are larvæ,[dn] which are furnished with strong mandibles for gnawing; when they become nymphs, the rudiments of four wings appear, which are fully developed in the perfect insects. [illustration: termes bellicosus in the winged state.] [it is now known that the differences of form among the termites are accounted for as follows. the winged specimens are the fully developed males and females, popularly called kings and queens. these crawl to the aperture of their house and take flight, retiring to earth after a short time. when a male and female meet each other, they cast off their wings exactly as do the ants of our own country, and become the founders of a new colony. their soldiers are undeveloped males, and the workers are undeveloped females.] in the winged state, they migrate to form new colonies, but the greater number of them perish in a few hours, or become the prey of birds, and even of the natives, who fry them as delicacies. "i have discoursed with several gentlemen," says smeathman, "upon the taste of the white ants, and on comparing notes, we have always agreed that they are most delicious and delicate eating. one gentleman compared them to sugared marrow, another to sugared cream and a paste of sweet almonds."[do] mr. smeathman's very interesting paper affords us the most authentic materials for the further description of these wonderful insects; and we therefore continue partly to extract from, and partly to abridge, his account. the few pairs that are so fortunate as to survive the various casualties that assail them, are usually found by workers (larvæ), which, at this season, are running continually on the surface of the ground, on the watch for them. as soon as they discover the objects of their search, they begin to protect them from their surrounding enemies, by inclosing them in a small chamber of clay, where they become the parents of a new community, and are distinguished from the other inhabitants of the nest by the title of king and queen. instinct directs the attention of these labouring insects to the preservation of their race, in the protection of this pair and their offspring. the chamber that forms the rudiment of a new nest is contrived for their safety, but the entrances to it are too small to admit of their ever leaving it; consequently, the charge of the eggs devolves upon the labourers, who construct nurseries for their reception. these are small, irregularly-shaped chambers, placed at first round the apartment of the king and queen, and not exceeding the size of a hazel-nut; but in nests of long standing they are of great comparative magnitude, and distributed at a greater distance. the receptacles for hatching the young are all composed of wooden materials, apparently joined together with gum, and, by way of defence, cased with clay. the chamber that contains the king and queen is nearly on a level with the surface of the ground; and as the other apartments are formed about it, it is generally situated at an equal distance from the sides of the nest, and directly beneath its conical point. those apartments which consist of nurseries and magazines of provisions, form an intricate labyrinth, being separated by small, empty chambers and galleries, which surround them, or afford a communication from one to another. this labyrinth extends on all sides to the outward shells, and reaches up within it to two-thirds or more of its height, leaving an open area above, in the middle, under the dome, which reminds the spectator of the nave of an old cathedral. around this are raised three or four large arches, which are sometimes two or three feet high, next the front of the area, but diminish as they recede further back, and are lost amidst the innumerable chambers and nurseries behind them. every one of these buildings consists of two distinct parts, the exterior and the interior. the exterior is one large shell, in the manner of a dome, large and strong enough to inclose and shelter the interior from the vicissitudes of the weather, and the inhabitants from the attacks of natural or accidental enemies. it is always, therefore, much stronger than the interior building, which is the habitable part, divided, with a wonderful kind of regularity and contrivance, into an amazing number of apartments for the residence of the king and queen, and the nursing of the numerous progeny; or for magazines, which are always found well filled with stores and provisions. the hills make their first appearance above ground by a little turret or two, in the shape of sugar-loaves, which are run a foot high or more. soon after, at some little distance, while the former are increasing in height and size, they raise others, and so go on increasing their number, and widening them at the base, till their works below are covered with these turrets, of which they always raise the highest and largest in the middle, and by filling up the intervals between each turret, collect them into one dome. they are not very curious or exact in the workmanship, except in making them very solid and strong; and when, by their joining them, the dome is completed, for which purpose the turrets answer as scaffolds, they take away the middle ones entirely, except the tops, which, joined together, make the crown of the cupola, and apply the clay to the building of the works within, or to erecting fresh turrets for the purpose of raising the hillock still higher; so that some part of the clay is probably used several times, like the boards and posts of a mason's scaffold. when these hills are little more than half their height, it is a common practice of the wild bulls to stand as sentinels on them, while the rest of the herd are ruminating below. they are sufficiently strong for that purpose, and at their full height answer excellently well as places of look-out; and mr. smeathman has been, with four more, on the top of one of these hillocks, to watch for a vessel in sight. the outward shell, or dome, is not only of use to protect and support the interior buildings from external violence and the heavy rains, but to collect and preserve a regular degree of the warmth and moisture necessary for hatching the eggs and cherishing the young. the royal chamber occupied by the king and queen appears to be, in the opinion of this little people, of the most consequence, being always situated as near the centre of the interior building as possible. it is always nearly in the shape of half an egg, or an obtuse oval, within, and may be supposed to represent a long oven. in the infant state of the colony it is but about an inch in length; but in time will be increased to six or eight inches, or more, in the clear, being always in proportion to the size of the queen, who, increasing in bulk as in age, at length requires a chamber of such dimensions. [illustration: queen distended with eggs.] its floor is perfectly horizontal, and in large hillocks, sometimes more than an inch thick of solid clay. the roof, also, which is one solid and well-turned oval arch, is generally of about the same solidity; but in some places it is not a quarter of an inch thick on the sides where it joins the floor, and where the doors or entrances are made level with it, at nearly equal distances from each other. these entrances will not admit any animal larger than the soldiers or labourers; so that the king and the queen (who is, at full size, a thousand times the weight of a king) can never possibly go out, but remain close prisoners. [there is a good series of the queen cells of the termite in the british museum, and the reader is strongly recommended to go and examine them. some of them are as large as cocoa-nuts. around the cell are a number of small holes, looking as if they had been bored with a bradawl. now, if the cell be carefully opened, a most curious arrangement will be seen. each of the little holes serves as an opening into a passage which communicates with the interior of the cell. the apartment, if we may so call it, which contains the queen, is only just large enough to hold her, and there is no door or opening for her egress. this, however, is not required, as her enormous size prevents her from moving. through these passages runs incessantly a stream of worker termites, some of them carrying eggs which the queen has just laid, and others returning to the royal chamber for a fresh supply.] the royal chamber, if in a large hillock, is surrounded by a countless number of others, of different sizes, shapes, and dimensions; but all of them arched in one way or another--sometimes elliptical or oval. these either open into each other, or communicate by passages as wide as, and are evidently made for, the soldiers and attendants, of whom great numbers are necessary, and always in waiting. these apartments are joined by the magazines and nurseries. the former are chambers of clay, and are always well filled with provisions, which, to the naked eye, seem to consist of the raspings of wood, and plants which the termites destroy, but are found by the microscope to be principally the gums or inspissated juices of plants. these are thrown together in little masses, some of which are finer than others, and resemble the sugar about preserved fruits; others are like tears of gum, one quite transparent, another like amber, a third brown, and a fourth quite opaque, as we see often in parcels of ordinary gums. these magazines are intermixed with the nurseries, which are buildings totally different from the rest of the apartments; for these are composed entirely of wooden materials, seemingly joined together with gums. mr. smeathman calls them the nurseries because they are invariably occupied by the eggs and young ones, which appear at first in the shape of labourers, but white as snow. these buildings are exceedingly compact, and divided into many very small irregular-shaped chambers, not one of which is to be found of half an inch in width. they are placed all round, and as near as possible to the royal apartments. when the nest is in the infant state, the nurseries are close to the royal chambers; but as, in process of time, the queen enlarges, it is necessary to enlarge the chamber for her accommodation; and as she then lays a greater number of eggs, and requires a greater number of attendants, so it is necessary to enlarge and increase the number of the adjacent apartments; for which purpose the small nurseries which are first built are taken to pieces, rebuilt a little further of a size larger, and the number of them increased at the same time. thus they continually enlarge their apartments, pull down, repair, or rebuild, according to their wants, with a degree of sagacity, regularity, and foresight, not even imitated by any other kind of animals or insects. all these chambers, and the passages leading to and from them, being arched, they help to support each other; and while the interior large arches prevent them from falling into the centre, and keep the area open, the exterior building supports them on the outside. there are, comparatively speaking, few openings into the great area, and they, for the most part, seem intended only to admit into the nurseries that genial warmth which the dome collects. the interior building, or assemblage of nurseries, chambers, &c., has a flattish top or roof, without any perforation, which would keep the apartments below dry, in case through accident the dome should receive any injury, and let in water; and it is never exactly flat and uniform, because the insects are always adding to it by building more chambers and nurseries; so that the division or columns between the future arched apartment resemble the pinnacles on the fronts of some old buildings, and demand particular notice, as affording one proof that for the most part the insects project their arches, and do not make them by excavation. the area has also a flattish floor, which lies over the royal chamber, but sometimes a good height above it, having nurseries and magazines between. it is likewise waterproof, and contrived to let the water off if it should get in, and run over by some short way into the subterraneous passages, which run under the lowest apartments in the hill in various directions, and are of an astonishing size, being wider than the bore of a great cannon. one that mr. smeathman measured was perfectly cylindrical, and thirteen inches in diameter. these subterraneous passages, or galleries, are lined very thick with the same kind of clay of which the hill is composed, and ascend the inside of the outward shell in a spiral manner; and winding round the whole building up to the top, intersect each other at different heights, opening either immediately in the dome in various places, and into the interior building, the new turrets, &c., or communicating with them by other galleries of different diameters, either circular or oval. from every part of these large galleries are various small covert ways, or galleries leading to different parts of the building. under ground there are a great many that lead downward by sloping descents, three and four feet perpendicular among the gravel, whence the workers cull the finer parts, which, being kneaded up in their mouths to the consistence of mortar, become that solid clay or stone of which their hills and all their buildings, except their nurseries, are composed. other galleries again ascend, and lead out horizontally on every side, and are carried under ground near to the surface a vast distance: for if all the nests are destroyed within a hundred yards of a house, the inhabitants of those which are left unmolested farther off will still carry on their subterraneous galleries, and, invading it by sap and mine, do great mischief to the goods and merchandise contained in it. it seems there is a degree of necessity for the galleries under the hills being thus large, since they are the great thoroughfares for all the labourers and soldiers going forth or returning, whether fetching clay, wood, water, or provisions; and they are certainly well calculated for the purposes to which they are applied by the spiral slope which is given them; for if they were perpendicular the labourers would not be able to carry on their building with so much facility, as they ascend a perpendicular with great difficulty, and the soldiers can scarcely do it at all. it is on this account that sometimes a road like a ledge is made on the perpendicular side of any part of the building within their hill, which is flat on the upper surface and half an inch wide, and ascends gradually like a staircase, or like those winding roads which are cut on the sides of hills and mountains, that would otherwise be inaccessible; by which and similar contrivances they travel with great facility to every interior part. [illustration: _a_, a covered way and nest, on the branch of a tree, of the _termites arborum_. _b_, section of the hill-nest of the _termites bellicosi_, to show the interior. _c_, hill-nest of the _termites bellicosi_, entire.] this, too, is probably the cause of their building a kind of bridge of one great arch, which answers the purpose of a flight of stairs from the floor of the area to some opening on the side of one of the columns that support the great arches. this contrivance must shorten the distance exceedingly to those labourers who have the eggs to carry from the royal chamber to some of the upper nurseries, which in some hills would be four or five feet in the straightest line, and much more if carried through all the winding passages leading through the inner chambers and apartments. mr. smeathman found one of these bridges, half an inch broad, a quarter of an inch thick, and ten inches long, making the side of an elliptic arch of proportionable size; so that it is wonderful it did not fall over or break by its own weight before they got it joined to the side of the column above. it was strengthened by a small arch at the bottom, and had a hollow or groove all the length of the upper surface, either made purposely for the inhabitants to travel over with more safety, or else, which is not improbable, worn by frequent treading. turret-building white ants. apparently more than one species smaller than the preceding, such as the _termes mordax_ and _t. atrox_ of smeathman, construct nests of a very different form, the figures of which resemble a pillar, with a large mushroom for a capital. these turrets are composed of well-tempered black earth, and stand nearly three feet high. the conical mushroom-shaped roof is composed of the same material, and the brims hang over the column, being three or four inches wider than its perpendicular sides. most of them, says smeathman, resemble in shape the body of a round windmill, but some of the roofs have little elevation in the middle. when one of these turrets is completed, the insects do not afterwards enlarge or alter it; but if it be found too small for them, they lay the foundation of another at a few inches' distance. they sometimes, but not often, begin the second before the first is finished, and a third before they have completed the second. five or six of these singular turrets in a group may be seen in the thick woods at the foot of a tree. they are so very strongly built, that in case of violence, they will sooner tear up the gravel and solid heart of their foundation than break in the middle. when any of them happen to be thus thrown down, the insects do not abandon them; but, using their overturned column as a basis, they run up another perpendicularly from it to the usual height, fastening the under part at the same time to the ground, to render it the more secure. the interior of a turret is pretty equally divided into innumerable cells, irregular in shape, but usually more or less angular, generally quadrangular or pentagonal, though the angles are not well defined. each shell has at least two entrances; but there are no galleries, arches, nor wooden nurseries, as in the nests of the warrior (_t. bellicosus_). the two species which build turret nests are very different in size, and the dimensions of the nests differ in proportion. [illustration: turret nests of white ants. one nest is represented cut through, with the upper part lying on the ground.] the white ants of trees. latreille's species of white ant (_termes lucifugus_, rossi), formerly mentioned as found in the south of europe, appear to have more the habits of the jet-ant, described page 301, than their congeners of the tropics. they live in the interior of the trunks of trees, the wood of which they eat, and form their habitations of the galleries which they thus excavate. m. latreille says they appear to be furnished with an acid for the purpose of softening the wood, the odour of which is exceedingly pungent. they prefer the part of the wood nearest to the bark, which they are careful not to injure, as it affords them protection. all the walls of their galleries are moistened with small globules of a gelatinous substance, similar to gum arabic. they are chiefly to be found in the trunks of oak and pine trees, and are very numerous.[dp] another of the species (_termes arborum_), described by smeathman, builds a nest on the exterior of trees, altogether different from any of the preceding. these are of a spherical or oval shape, occupying the arm or branch of a tree sometimes from seventy to eighty feet from the ground, and as large, in a few instances, as a sugar-cask. the composition used for a building material is apparently similar to that used by the warriors for constructing their nurseries, being the gnawings of wood in very small particles, kneaded into a paste with some species of cement or glue, procured, as smeathman supposes, partly from gummiferous trees, and partly from themselves; but it is more probable, we think, that it is wholly secreted, like the wax of bees, by the insects themselves. with this cement, whatever may be its composition, they construct their cells, in which there is nothing very wonderful except their great numbers. they are very firmly built, and so strongly attached to the trees, that they will resist the most violent tornado. it is impossible, indeed, to detach them, except by cutting them in pieces, or sawing off the branch, which is frequently done to procure the insects for young turkeys. (see engraving, p. 324, for a figure of this nest.) this species very often, instead of selecting the bough of a tree, builds in the roof or wall of a house, and unless observed in time, and expelled, occasions considerable damage. it is easier, in fact, to shut one's door against a fox or a thief, than to exclude such insidious enemies, whose aversion to light renders it difficult to trace them even when they are numerous. [there are also termites in europe, and the city of la rochelle has suffered terribly from them. they eat the trees in the gardens, and not a stake can be driven into the ground, or even a plank left for twenty-four hours, without being attacked. they also enter the houses and utterly ruin them by eating every bit of timber that is used in them. in one instance, where a room had been repaired, the stalactitic galleries of the termites showed themselves the very day after the workmen had left the room. they invaded the prefecture, and did exceeding damage, one of their feats of voracity being so extraordinary as to deserve mention. the archives of the department were left in boxes, and privately inspected. one day, when a paper was needed, the whole of the documents fell to pieces, and were metamorphosed as if by magic into a heap of clay. the termites had got into the boxes by boring through the wainscot of the room, and had then penetrated among the papers. they consumed every particle of them except the uppermost sheet and the edges, supplying their place with clay. the consequence was, that although the heap of documents seemed to be correct, there was nothing but a mass of clay galleries and a single sheet of paper at the top. so voracious are they, that even a piece of paper wrapped round a bottle was eaten, the termites building a gallery of clay in order to reach it under cover.] if we reflect on the prodigious numbers of those insects, and their power and rapidity of destroying, we cannot but admire the wisdom of providence in creating so indefatigable and useful an agent in countries where the decay of vegetable substances is rapid in proportion to the heat of the climate. we have already remarked that they always prefer decaying or dead timber; and it is indeed a very general law among insects which feed on wood to prefer what is unsound; the same principle holds with respect to fungi, lichens, and other parasitical plants. all the species of termites are not social; but the solitary ones do not, like their congeners, distinguish themselves in architecture. in other respects, their habits are more similar; for they destroy almost every substance, animal and vegetable. the most common of the solitary species must be familiar to all our readers by the name of wood-louse (_termes pulsatorium_, linn.; _atropos lignarius_, leach)--one of the insects which produces the ticking superstitiously termed the _death-watch_. it is not so large as the common wood-louse, but whiter and more slender, having a red mouth and yellow eyes. it lives in old books, the paper on walls, collections of insects and dried plants, and is extremely agile in its movements, darting, by jerks, into dark corners for the purpose of concealment. it does not like to run straight forward without resting every half-second, as if to listen or look about for its pursuer, and at such resting times it is easily taken. the ticking noise is made by the insect beating against the wood with its head, and it is supposed by some to be peculiar to the female, and to be connected with the laying of her eggs. m. latreille, however, thinks that the wood-louse is only the grub of the _psocus abdominalis_, in which case it could not lay eggs; but this opinion is somewhat questionable. another death-watch is a small beetle (_anobium tesselatum_). _chapter xvii._ structures of silk spun by caterpillars, including the silk-worm. "millions of spinning-worms, that in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd silk." milton's _comus_. all the caterpillars of butterflies, moths, and, in general, of insects with four wings, are capable of spinning silk; of various degrees of fineness and strength, and differing in colour, but usually white, yellow, brown, black, or grey. this is not only of advantage in constructing nests for themselves, and particularly for their pupæ, as we have so frequently exemplified in the preceding pages, but it enables them, the instant they are excluded from the egg, to protect themselves from innumerable accidents, as well as from enemies. if a caterpillar, for instance, be exposed to a gust of wind, and blown off from its native tree, it lets itself gently down, and breaks its fall, by immediately spinning a cable of silk, along which, also, it can reascend to its former station when the danger is over. in the same way it frequently disappoints a bird that has marked it out for prey, by dropping hurriedly down from a branch, suspended to its never-failing delicate cord. the leaf-rollers, formerly described, have the advantage of other caterpillars in such cases, by being able to move as quickly backwards as forwards; so that when a bird puts in its bill at one end of the roll, the insect makes a ready exit at the other, and drops along its thread as low as it judges convenient. we have seen caterpillars drop in this way from one to six feet or more; and by means of their cable, which they are careful not to break, they climb back with great expedition to their former place. the structure of their legs is well adapted for climbing up their singular rope--the six fore-legs being furnished with a curved claw; while the pro-legs (as they have been termed) are no less fitted for holding them firm to the branch when they have regained it, being constructed on the principle of forming a vacuum, like the leather sucker with which boys lift and drag stones. the foot of the common fly has a similar sucker, by which it is enabled to walk on glass, and otherwise support itself against gravity. the different forms of the leg and pro-leg of a spinning caterpillar are represented in the figure. [illustration: leg and pro-leg of a caterpillar, greatly magnified.] in order to understand the nature of the apparatus by which a caterpillar spins its silk, it is to be recollected that its whole interior structure differs from that of warm-blooded animals. it has, properly speaking, no heart, though a long tubular _dorsal vessel_, which runs along the back, and pulsates from twenty to one hundred times per minute, has been called so by malpighi and others, but neither lyonnet nor cuvier could detect any vessel issuing from it, and consequently the fluid which is analogous to blood has no circulation. it differs also from the higher orders of animals in having no brain, the nerves running along the body being only united by little knobs, called ganglions. another circumstance is, that it has no lungs, and does not breathe by the mouth, but by air-holes, or spiracles, eighteen in number, situated along the sides, in the middle of the rings, as may be seen in the following figure from lyonnet. [illustration: caterpillar of the goat moth (_cossus ligniperda_).] these spiracles communicate on each side with tubes, that have been called the wind-pipes (_tracheæ_). the spinning apparatus is placed near the mouth, and is connected with the silk-bags, which are long, slender, floating vessels, containing a liquid gum. the bags are closed at their lower extremity, become wider towards the middle, and more slender towards the head, where they unite to form the spinning-tube, or spinneret. the bags being in most cases longer than the body of the caterpillar, necessarily lie in a convoluted state, like the intestines of quadrupeds. the capacity, or rather the length, of the silk-bags is in proportion to the quantity of silk required for spinning; the _cossus ligniperda_, for example, from living in the wood of trees spins little, having a bag only one-fourth the length of that of the silk-worm, though the caterpillar is at least twice the dimensions of the latter. the following figure, taken from the admirable treatise of lyonnet on the anatomy of the _cossus_, will render these several organs more easily understood than any description. the spinneret itself was supposed by réaumur to have two outlets for the silk; but lyonnet, upon minute dissection, found that the two tubes united into one before their termination; and he also assured himself that it was composed of alternate slips of horny and membranaceous substance,--the one for pressing the thread into a small diameter, and the other for enlarging it at the insect's pleasure. it is cut at the end somewhat like a writing-pen, though with less of a slope, and is admirably fitted for being applied to objects to which it may be required to attach silk. the following are magnified figures of the spinneret of the _cossus_, from lyonnet. [illustration: interior structure of the cossus.--a, silk bags; b, silk tube, through which the viscid matter, of which the silk threads are formed, is forced by a peristaltic motion; c, stomach; d d, intestines, with the coil of bile vessels.] [illustration: side-view of the silk-tube.] [illustration: section of the silk-tube, magnified 22,000 times.] [illustration: labium, or lower lip of cossus.--_a_, silk-tube.] "you may sometimes have seen," says the abbé de la pluche, "in the work-rooms of goldsmiths or gold wire-drawers, certain iron plates, pierced with holes of different calibres, through which they draw gold and silver wire, in order to render it finer. the silk-worm has under her mouth such a kind of instrument, perforated with a pair of holes [united into one on the outside[dq],] through which she draws two drops of the gum that fills her two bags. these instruments are like a pair of distaffs for spinning the gum into a silken thread. she fixes the first drop of gum that issues where she pleases, and then draws back her head, or lets herself fall, while the gum, continuing to flow, is drawn out and lengthened into a double stream. upon being exposed to the air, it immediately loses its fluidity, becomes dry, and acquires consistence and strength. she is never deceived in adjusting the dimensions of the [united] apertures, or in calculating the proper thickness of the thread, but invariably makes the strength of it proportionable to the weight of her body. "it would be a very curious thing to know how the gum which composes the silk is separated and drawn off from the other juices that nourish the animal. it must be accomplished like the secretions formed by glands in the human body. i am therefore persuaded that the gum-bags of the silk-worm are furnished with a set of minute glands, which being impregnated with gum, afford a free passage to all the juices of the mulberry-leaf corresponding with this glutinous matter, while they exclude every fluid of a different quality."[dr] when confined in an open glass vessel, the goat-moth caterpillar will effect its escape by constructing a curious silken ladder, as represented by roesel. caterpillars, as they increase in size, cast their skins as lobsters do their shells, and emerge into renewed activity under an enlarged covering. previous to this change, when the skin begins to gird and pinch them, they may be observed to become languid, and indifferent to their food, and at length they cease to eat, and await the sloughing of their skin. it is now that the faculty of spinning silk seems to be of great advantage to them; for, being rendered inactive and helpless by the tightening of the old skin around their expanding body, they might be swept away by the first puff of wind, and made prey of by ground beetles or other carnivorous prowlers. to guard against such accidents, as soon as they feel that they can swallow no more food, from being half choked by the old skin, they take care to secure themselves from danger by moorings of silk spun upon the leaf or the branch where they may be reposing. the caterpillar of the white satin-moth (_leucoma salicis_, stephens) in this way draws together with silk one or two leaves, similar to the leaf-rollers (_tortricidæ_), though it always feeds openly without any covering. the caterpillar of the puss-moth again, which, in its third skin, is large and heavy, spins a thick web on the upper surface of a leaf, to which it adheres till the change is effected. the most important operation, however, of silk-spinning is performed before the caterpillar is transformed into a chrysalis, and is most remarkable in the caterpillars of moths and other four-winged flies, with the exception of those of butterflies; for though these exhibit, perhaps, greater ingenuity, they seldom spin more than a few threads to secure the chrysalis from falling, whereas the others spin for it a complete envelope or shroud. we have already seen, in the preceding pages, several striking instances of this operation, when, probably for the purpose of husbanding a scanty supply of silk, extraneous substances are worked into the texture. in the case of other caterpillars, silk is the only material employed. of this the cocoon of the silk-worm is the most prominent example, in consequence of its importance in our manufactures and commerce, and on that account will demand from us somewhat minute details, though it would require volumes to incorporate all the information which has been published on the subject. silk-worm. the silk-worm, like most other caterpillars, changes its skin four times during its growth. the intervals at which the four moultings follow each other depend much on climate or temperature, as well as on the quality and quantity of food. it is thence found, that if they are exposed to a high temperature, say from 81° to 100° fahrenheit, the moultings will be hastened; and only five days will be consumed in moulting the third or fourth time, whilst those worms that have not been hastened take seven or eight days.[ds] the period of the moultings is also influenced by the temperature in which the eggs have been kept during the winter. when the heat of the apartment has been regulated, the first moulting takes place on the fourth or fifth day after hatching, the second begins on the eighth day, the third takes up the thirteenth and fourteenth days, and the last occurs on the twenty-second and twenty-third days. the fifth age, in such cases, lasts ten days, at the end of which, or thirty-two days after hatching, the caterpillars attain their full growth, and ought to be three inches in length; but if they have not been properly fed, they will not be so long. with the age of the caterpillar, its appetite increases, and is at its maximum after the fourth moulting, when it also attains its greatest size. the silk gum is then elaborated in the reservoirs, while the caterpillar ceases to eat, and soon diminishes again in size and weight. this usually requires a period of nine or ten days, commencing from the fourth moulting, after which it begins to spin its shroud of silk. in this operation it proceeds with the greatest caution, looking carefully for a spot in which it may be most secure from interruption. "we usually," says the abbé de la pluche, "give it some little stalks of broom, heath, or a piece of paper rolled up, into which it retires, and begins to move its head to different places, in order to fasten its thread on every side. all this work, though it looks to a bystander like confusion, is not without design. the caterpillar neither arranges its threads nor disposes one over another, but contents itself with distending a sort of cotton or floss to keep off the rain; for nature having ordained silk-worms to work under trees, they never change their method even when they are reared in our houses. "when my curiosity led me to know how they spun and placed their beautiful silk, i took one of them, and frequently removed the floss with which it first attempted to make itself a covering; and as by this means i weakened it exceedingly, when it at last became tired of beginning anew, it fastened its threads on the first thing it encountered, and began to spin very regularly in my presence, bending its head up and down, and crossing to every side. it soon confined its movements to a very contracted space, and, by degrees, entirely surrounded itself with silk; and the remainder of its operations became invisible, though these may be understood from examining the work after it is finished. in order to complete the structure, it must draw out of the gum-bag a more delicate silk, and then with a stronger gum bind all the inner threads over one another. "here, then, are three coverings entirely different, which afford a succession of shelter. the outer loose silk, or floss, is for keeping off the rain; the fine silk in the middle prevents the wind from causing injury; and the glued silk, which composes the tapestry of the chamber where the insect lodges, repels both air and water, and prevents the intrusion of cold. "after building her cocoon, she divests herself of her fourth skin, and is transformed into a chrysalis, and subsequently into a moth (_bombyx mori_), when, without saw or centre-bit, she makes her way through the shell, the silk, and the floss; for the being who teaches her how to build herself a place of rest, where the delicate limbs of the moth may be formed without interruption, instructs her likewise how to open a passage for escape. "the cocoon is like a pigeon's egg, and more pointed at one end than the other; and it is remarkable that the caterpillar does not interweave its silk towards the pointed end, nor apply its glue there as it does in every other part,[dt] by bending itself all around with great pliantness and agility: what is more, she never fails, when her labour is finished, to fix her head opposite to the pointed extremity. the reason of her taking this position is, that she has purposely left this part less strongly cemented, and less exactly closed. she is instinctively conscious that this is to be the passage for the perfect insect which she carries in her bowels, and has therefore the additional precaution never to place this pointed extremity against any substance that might obstruct the moth at the period of its egress. "when the caterpillar has exhausted herself to furnish the labour and materials of the three coverings, she loses the form of a worm; her spoils drop all around the chrysalis; first throwing off the skin, with the head and jaws attached to it, and the new skin hardening into a sort of leathery consistence. its nourishment is already in its stomach, and consists of a yellowish mucus, but gradually the rudiments of the moth unfold themselves,--the wings, the antennæ, and the legs becoming solid. in about a fortnight or three weeks, a slight swelling in the chrysalis may be remarked, which at length produces a rupture in the membrane that covers it, and by repeated efforts the moth bursts through the leathery envelope into the chamber of the cocoon. "the moth then extends her antennæ, together with her head and feet, towards the point of the cone, which not being thickly closed up in that part gradually yields to her efforts; she enlarges the opening, and at last comes forth, leaving at the bottom of the cone the ruins of its former state--namely, the head and entire skin of the caterpillar, which bear some resemblance to a heap of foul linen."[du] réaumur was of opinion that the moth makes use of its eyes as a file, in order to effect its passage through the silk; while malpighi, peck, and others, believe that it is assisted by an acid which it discharges in order to dissolve the gum that holds the fibres of the silk together (see p. 338). mr. swayne denies that the threads are broken at all, either by filing or solution; for he succeeded in unwinding a whole cocoon from which the moth had escaped. the soiling of the cocoon by a fluid, however, we may remark, is no proof of the acid; for all moths and butterflies discharge a fluid when they assume wings, whether they be inclosed in a cocoon or not; but it gives no little plausibility to the opinion, that "the end of the cocoon is observed to be wetted for an hour, and sometimes several hours, before the moth makes its way out."[dv] other insects employ different contrivances for escape, as we have already seen, and shall still further exemplify. it is the middle portion of the cocoon, after removing the floss or loose silk on the exterior, which is used in our manufactures; and the first preparation is to throw the cocoons into warm water, and to stir them about with twigs, to dissolve any slight gummy adhesions which may have occurred when the caterpillar was spinning. the threads of several cones, according to the strength of the silk wanted, are then taken and wound off upon a reel. the refuse, consisting of what we may call the tops and bottoms of the cones, are not wound, but carded, like wool or cotton, in order to form coarser fabrics. we learn from the fact of the cocoons being generally unwound without breaking the thread, that the insect spins the whole without interruption. it is popularly supposed, however, that if it be disturbed during the operation by any sort of noise, it will take alarm, and break its thread; but latreille says this is a vulgar error.[dw] the length of the unbroken thread in a cocoon varies from six hundred to a thousand feet; and as it is all spun double by the insect, it will amount to nearly two thousand feet of silk, the whole of which does not weigh above three grains and a half; five pounds of silk from ten thousand cocoons is considerably above the usual average. when we consider, therefore, the enormous quantity of silk which is used at present, the number of worms employed in producing it will almost exceed our comprehension. the manufacture of the silk, indeed, gives employment, and furnishes subsistence, to several millions of human beings; and we may venture to say, that there is scarcely an individual in the civilized world who has not some article made of silk in his possession. in ancient times, the manufacture of silk was confined to the east indies and china, where the insects that produce it are indigenous. it was thence brought to europe in small quantities, and in early times sold at so extravagant a price, that it was deemed too expensive even for royalty. the emperor aurelian assigned the expense as a reason for refusing his empress a robe of silk; and our own james i., before his accession to the crown of england, had to borrow of the earl of mar a pair of silk stockings to appear in before the english ambassador, a circumstance which probably led him to promote the cultivation of silk in england.[dx] the roman authors were altogether ignorant of its origin,--some supposing it to be grown on trees as hair grows on animals,--others that it was produced by a shell-fish similar to the mussel, which is known to throw out threads for the purpose of attaching itself to rocks,--others that it was the entrails of a sort of spider, which was fed for four years with paste, and then with the leaves of the green willow, till it burst with fat,--and others that it was the produce of a worm which built nests of clay and collected wax. the insect was at length spread into persia; and eggs were afterwards, at the instance of the emperor justinian, concealed in hollow canes by two monks, and conveyed to the isle of cos. this emperor, in the sixth century, caused them to be introduced into constantinople, and made an object of public utility. they were thence successively cultivated in greece, in arabia, in spain, in italy, in france, and in all places where any hope could be indulged of their succeeding. in america the culture of the silk-worm was introduced into virginia in the time of james i., who himself composed a book of instructions on the subject, and caused mulberry-trees and silk-worms' eggs to be sent to the colony. in georgia, also, lands were granted on condition of planting one hundred white mulberry-trees on every ten acres of cleared land.[dy] the growth of the silk-worm has also been tried, but with no great success, in this country. evelyn computed that one mulberry-tree would feed as many silk-worms annually as would produce seven pounds of silk. "according to that estimate," says barham,[dz] "the two thousand trees already planted in chelsea park (which take up one-third of it) will make 14,000 lbs. weight of silk; to be commonly worth but twenty shillings a pound, those trees must make 14,000_l._ per annum." during the last century, some french refugees in the south of ireland made considerable plantations of the mulberry, and had begun the cultivation of silk with every appearance of success; but since their removal the trees have been cut down.[ea] in the vicinity of london, also, a considerable plantation of mulberry-trees was purchased by the british, irish, and colonial silk company in 1825; but we have not learned whether this company have any active measures now in operation. the manufacture of silk was introduced into this country in 1718, at derby, by mr. john lombe, who travelled into italy to obtain the requisite information; but so jealous were the italians of this, that according to some statements which have obtained belief, he fell a victim to their revenge, having been poisoned at the early age of twenty-nine.[eb] there are not only several varieties of the common silk-worm (_bombyx mori_), but other species of caterpillars, which spin silk capable of being manufactured, though not of so good qualities as the common silk. none of our european insects, however, seem to be well fitted for the purpose, though it has been proposed by fabricius and others to try the crimson under-wing (_catocala sponsa_, schrank), &c. m. latreille quotes from the 'recreations of natural history,' by wilhelm, the statement that the cocoons of the emperor-moth (_saturnia pavonia_) had been successfully tried in germany, by m. wentzel hegeer de berchtoldsdorf, under an imperial patent. [illustration: cocoons of the emperor-moth, cut open to show their structure.] emperor-moth. the emperor-moth, indeed, is no less worthy of our attention with respect to the ingenuity of its architecture than the beauty of its colours, and has consequently attracted the attention of every entomologist. the caterpillar feeds on fruit-trees and on the willow, and spins a cocoon, in the form of a florence flask, of strong silk, so thickly woven that it appears almost like damask or leather. it differs from most other cocoons in not being closed at the upper or smaller end, which terminates in a narrow circular aperture, formed by the convergence of little bundles of silk, gummed together, and almost as elastic as whalebone. in consequence of all these terminating in needle-shaped points, the entrance of depredators is guarded against, upon the principle which prevents the escape of a mouse from a wire trap. the insect, however, not contented with this protection, constructs another in form of a canopy or dome, within the external aperture, so as effectually to shield the chrysalis from danger. we have formerly remarked (page 210) that the caterpillar of the _ægeria asiliformis_ of stephens in a similar way did not appear to be contented with a covering of thin wood, without an additional bonnet of brown wax. the cocoon of the emperor-moth, though thus in some measure impenetrable from without, is readily opened from within; and when the moth issues from its pupa case, it easily makes its way out without either the acid or eye-files ascribed to the silk-worm. the elastic silk gives way upon being pushed from within, and when the insect is fairly out, it shuts again of its own accord, like a door with spring hinges,--a circumstance which at first puzzled roesel not a little when he saw a fine large moth in his box, and the cocoon apparently in the same state as when he had put it there. another naturalist conjectures that the converging threads are intended to compress the body of the moth as it emerges, in order to force the fluids into the nervures of the wings; for when he took the chrysalis previously out of the cocoon, the wings of the moth never expanded properly.[ec] had he been much conversant with breeding insects, he would rather, we think, have imputed this to some injury which the chrysalis had received. we have witnessed the shrivelling of the wings which he alludes to, in many instances, and not unfrequently in butterflies which spin no cocoon. the shrivelling, indeed, frequently arises from the want of a sufficient supply of food to the caterpillar in its last stage, occasioning a deficiency in the fluids. the elasticity of the cocoon is not peculiar to the emperor-moth. a much smaller insect, the green cream-border-moth (_tortrix chlorana_) before mentioned (page 190), for its ingenuity in bundling up the expanding leaves of the willow, also spins an elastic shroud for its chrysalis, of the singular shape of a boat with the keel uppermost. like the caterpillar of _pyralis strigulalis_ (page 217), whose building, though of different materials, is exactly of the same form, its first spins two approximating walls of whitish silk, of the form required, and when these are completed, it draws them forcibly together with elastic threads, so placed as to retain them closely shut. the passage of the moth out of this cocoon might have struck roesel as still more marvellous than that of his emperor, in which there was at least a small opening; while in the boat cocoon there is none. we have now before us two of these, which we watched the caterpillars through the process of building, in the summer of 1828, and from one only a moth issued--the other, as often happens, having died in the chrysalis. but what is most remarkable, it is impossible by the naked eye to tell which of these two has been opened by the moth, so neatly has the joining been finished. (j. r.) some species of moths spin a very slight silken tissue for their cocoons, being apparently intended more to retain them from falling than to afford protection from other accidents. the gipsy-moth (_hypogymna dispar_), rare in most parts of britain, is one of these. it selects for its retreat a crack in the bark of the tree upon which it feeds, and over this spins only a few straggling threads. we found last summer (1829), in the hole of an elm-tree in the park at brussels, a group of half a dozen of these, that did not seem to have spun any covering at all, but trusted to a curtain of moss (_hypna_) which margined the entrance. (j. r.) in a species nearly allied to this, the yellow-tussock (_dasychira pudibunda_, stephens), the cocoon, one of which we have now before us, is of a pretty close texture, and interwoven with the long hairs of the caterpillar itself (see figure _b_, page 17), which it plucks out piecemeal during the process of building,--as is also done by the vapourer (_orgyia antiqua_, hubner), and many others. [illustration: cocoon of arctia villica.] [illustration: net-work cocoon.] these are additional instances of the remarks we formerly made, that caterpillars which spin a slight web are transformed into perfect insects in a much shorter period than those which spin more substantial ones. thus the cream-spot tiger (_arctia villica_, stephens) lies in chrysalis only three weeks, and therefore does not require a strong web. it is figured above, along with another, which is still slighter, though more ingeniously woven, being regularly meshed like net-work. a very prettily-netted cocoon is constructed by the grub of a very small grey weevil (_hypera rumicis_), which is not uncommon in july, on the seed spikes of docks (_rumices_). this cocoon is globular, and not larger than a garden pea, though it appears to be very large in proportion to the pupa of the insect, reminding us not a little of the carved ivory balls from china. the meshes of the net-work are also large, but the materials are strong and of a waxy consistence. upon remarking that no netting was ever spun over the part of the plant to which the cocoon was attached, we endeavoured to make them spin cocoons perfectly globular by detaching them when nearly finished; but though we tried four or five in this way, we could not make them add a single mesh after removal, all of them making their escape through the opening, and refusing to re-enter in order to complete their structure. (j. r.) the silk, if it may be so termed, spun by many species of larvæ is of a still stronger texture than the waxy silk of the little weevil just mentioned. we recently met with a remarkable instance of this at lee, in the cocoons of one of the larger ichneumons (_ophion vinulæ_? stephens), inclosed in that of a puss-moth (_cerura vinula_)--itself remarkable for being composed of sand as well as wood, the fibres of which had been scooped out of the underground cross-bar of an old paling, to which it was attached. but the most singular portion of this was the junction of the outer wall with the edges of the hollow thus scooped out, which was formed of fibres of wood placed across the fibres of the bar nearly at right angles, and strongly cemented together, as if to form a secure foundation for the building. in this nest were formed, surreptitiously introduced into the original building, five empty cells of a black colour, about an inch long, and a sixth of an inch in diameter; nearly cylindrical in form, but somewhat flattened; vertical and parallel to one another, though slightly curved on the inner side. the cells are composed of strong and somewhat coarse fibres, more like the carbonized rootlets of a tree than silk, and resembling in texture a piece of coarse milled cloth or felt, such as is used for the bases of plated hats. it is worthy of remark, that all these cells opened towards one end, as if the caterpillars which constructed them had been aware that the wall of the puss-moth, in which the flies would have to make a breach, was very hard, and would require their united efforts to effect an escape. the importance of such a precaution will appear more strikingly, when we compare it with the instance formerly mentioned (page 215), in which only one ichneumon had been able to force its way out. (j. r.) [illustration: nest of puss-moth, inclosing five cocoons of an ichneumon. natural size.] it appears indispensable to some grubs to be confined within a certain space in order to construct their cocoons. we saw this well exemplified in the instance of a grub of one of the mason-bees (_osmia bicornis_), which we took from its nest, and put into a box with the pollen paste which the mother bee had provided for its subsistence. (see pages 45, 46.) when it had completed its growth, it began to spin, but in a very awkward manner-attaching threads, as if at random, to the bits of pollen which remained undevoured, and afterwards tumbling about to another part of the box, as if dissatisfied with what it had done. it sometimes persevered to spin in one place till it had formed a little vaulted wall; but it abandoned at the least three or four of these in order to begin others, till at length, as if compelled by the extreme urgency of the stimulus of its approaching change, it completed a shell of shining brown silk, woven into a close texture. had the grub remained within the narrow clay cell built for it by the mother bee, it would, in all probability, not have thus exhausted itself in vain efforts at building, which were likely to prevent it from ever arriving at the perfect state--a circumstance which often happens in the artificial breeding of insects. this bee, however, made its appearance the following spring. (j. r.) besides silk, the cocoons of many insects are composed of other animal secretions, intended to strengthen or otherwise perfect their texture. we have already seen that some caterpillars pluck off their own hair to interweave amongst their silk; there are others which produce a peculiar substance for the same purpose. the lackey caterpillar (_clisiocampa neustria_, curtis) in this manner lines its cocoon with pellets of a downy substance, resembling little tufts of the flowers of sulphur. the small egger, again (_eriogaster lanestris_, germar), can scarcely be said to employ silk at all,--the cocoon being of a uniform texture, looking, at first sight, like dingy paris plaster, or the shell of a pheasant's egg; but upon being broken, and inspected narrowly, a few threads of silk may be seen interspersed through the whole. in size it is not larger than the egg of the gold-crested wren. it has been considered by brahm a puzzling circumstance, that this cocoon is usually perforated with one or two little holes, as if made by a pin from without; and kirby and spence tell us that their use has not been ascertained.[ed] may they not be left as air-holes for the included chrysalis, as the close texture of the cocoon might, without this provision, prove fatal to the animal? yet, on comparing one of these with a similar cocoon of the large egger-moth (_lasiocampa quercus_), we find no air-holes in the latter, as we might have been led to expect from the closeness of its texture. we found a cocoon of a saw-fly (_trichiosoma_), about the same size as that of the egger, attached to a hawthorn-twig, in a hedge at new cross, deptford, but of a leathery texture, and, externally, exactly the colour of the bark of the tree. during the summer of 1830 we found a considerable number of the same cocoons. these were all without air-holes. the egger, we may remark, unlike the dock-weevil or the bee-grub just mentioned, can work her cocoon without any point of attachment. we had a colony of these caterpillars in the summer of 1825, brought from epping forest, and saw several of them work their cocoons, and we could not but admire the dexterity with which they avoided filling up the little pin-holes. the supply of their building material was evidently measured out to them in the exact quantity required; for when we broke down a portion of their wall, by way of experiment, they did not make it above half the thickness of the previous portion, though they plainly preferred having a thin wall to leaving the breach unclosed. (j. r.) several species of caterpillars, that spin only silk, are social, like some of those we formerly mentioned, which unite to form a common tent of leaves (see pages 351, 352, &c.). the most common instance of this is in the caterpillars which feed on the nettle--the small tortoise-shell (_vanessa urticæ_), and the peacock's eye (_v. i._). colonies of these may be seen, after midsummer, on almost every clump of nettles, inhabiting a thin web of an irregular oval shape, from which they issue out to feed on the leaves, always returning when their appetite is satisfied, to assist their companions in extending their premises. other examples, still more conspicuous from being seen on fruit-trees and in hedges, occur in the caterpillars of the small ermine-moth (_yponomeuta padella_), and of the lackey (_clisiocampa neustria_), which in some years are but too abundant, though in others they are seldom met with. in the summer of 1826, every hedge and fruit-tree around london swarmed with colonies of the ermine, though it has not since been plentiful; and in the same way, during the summer of 1829, the lackeys were to be seen everywhere. we mention this irregularity of appearance that our readers may not disappoint themselves by looking for what is not always to be found. it is probable that in 1830 the lackeys will be few, for, notwithstanding the myriads of caterpillars last summer, we saw only a single moth of this species, and out of a number of chrysalides which a young friend had in his nurse-boxes, not one moth was bred. the small ermine does not, besides, feed so indiscriminately as many others, but when the bird-cherry (_prunus padus_), its peculiar food, is not to be had, it will put up with blackthorn, plum-tree, hawthorn, and almost any sort of orchard fruit-tree. with respect to such caterpillars as feed on different plants, réaumur and de geer make the singular remark, that in most cases they would only eat the sort of plant upon which they were originally hatched.[ee] we verified this, in the case of the caterpillar in question, upon two different nests which we took, in 1806, from the bird-cherry at crawfordland, in ayrshire. upon bringing these to kilmarnock, we could not readily supply them with the leaves of this tree; and having then only a slight acquaintance with the habits of insects, and imagining they would eat any sort of leaf, we tried them with almost everything green in the vicinity of the town; but they refused to touch any which we offered them. after they had fasted several days, we at length procured some fresh branches of the bird-cherry, with which they gorged themselves so that most of them died. last summer (1829) we again tried a colony of these caterpillars, found on a seedling plum-tree at lee, in kent, with blackthorn, hawthorn, and many other leaves, and even with those of the bird-cherry; but they would touch nothing except the seedling plum, refusing the grafted varieties. (j. r.) a circumstance not a little remarkable in so very nice a feeder is, that in some cases the mother moth will deposit her eggs upon trees not of indigenous growth, and not even of the same genus with her usual favourites. thus, in 1825, the cherry-apple, or siberian crab (_pyrus prunifolia_, willdenow), so commonly grown in the suburbs of london, swarmed with them. on a single tree at islington we counted above twenty nests, each of which would contain from fifty to a hundred caterpillars; and though these do not grow thicker than a crow-quill, so many of them scarcely left a leaf undevoured, and, of course, the fruit, which showed abundantly in spring, never came to maturity. the summer following they were still more abundant on the hawthorn hedges, particularly near the thames, by battersea and richmond. since then we have only seen them sparingly; and last summer we could only find the single nest upon which we tried the preceding experiment. (j. r.) [illustration: encampment of the caterpillar of the small ermine (_yponomeuta padella_) on the siberian crab.] the caterpillars of other moths, which are in some years very common--such as the brown-tail (_porthesia auriflua_), and the golden-tail (_p. chrysorrhoea_), are also social; and, as the eggs are hatched late in the summer, the brood passes the winter in a very closely-woven nest of warm silk. this is usually represented as composed of leaves which have had their pulpy parts eaten as food by the colonists; but from minute observation of at least twenty of these nests in the winter of 1828-9, we are quite satisfied that leaves are only an accidental, and not a necessary, part of the structure. when a leaf happens to be in the line of the walls of the nest, it is included; but there is no apparent design in pressing it into the service, nor is a branch selected because it is leafy. on the contrary, by far the greater number of these nests do not contain a single leaf, but are composed entirely of grey silk. in external form, no two of these nests are alike; as it depends entirely upon the form of the branch. when, therefore, there is only one twig, it is somewhat egg-shaped; but when there are several twigs, it commonly joins each, assuming an angular shape, as may be seen in the left-hand figure. [illustration: winter nests of _porthesia chrysorrhoea_, one being cut open to show the chambers. the dots represent the egesta of the caterpillars.] this irregularity arises from the circumstance of each individual acting on its own account, without the direction or superintendence of the others. the interior of the structure is, for the same reason, more regular, being divided into compartments, each of which forms a chamber for one or more individuals. previous to the cold weather, these chambers have but slight partitions; but before the frosts set in the whole is made thick and warm. [illustration: winter nest of the social caterpillars of the brown-tail moth (_porthesia auriflua_), figured from specimen.] none of the preceding details, however, appear so striking as what is recorded of the brown-tail moth (_porthesia auriflua_) by mr. w. curtis,[ef] whose multitudinous colonies spread great alarm over the country in the summer of 1782. this alarm was much increased by the exaggeration and ignorant details which found their way into the newspapers. the actual numbers of these caterpillars must have been immense, since curtis says, "in many of the parishes near london subscriptions have been opened, and the poor people employed to cut off the webs at one shilling per bushel, which have been burnt under the inspection of the church-wardens, overseers, or beadle of the parish: at the first onset of this business fourscore bushels, as i was most credibly informed, were collected in one day in the parish of clapham." it is not, therefore, very much to be wondered at, that the ignorant, who are so prone to become the victims of groundless fears, should have taken serious alarm on having so unusual a phenomenon forced upon their attention. some alarmists accordingly asserted that the caterpillars "were the usual presage of the plague;" and others that they not only presaged it, but would actually cause it, for "their numbers were great enough to render the air pestilential;" while, to add to the mischief, "they would destroy every kind of vegetation, and starve the cattle in the fields." "almost every one," adds curtis, "ignorant of their history, was under the greatest apprehensions concerning them; so that even prayers were offered up in some churches to deliver the country from the apprehended approaching calamity." it seems to have been either the same caterpillar, or one very nearly allied to it, probably that of the golden-tail (_porthesia chrysorrhoea_), which in 1731-2 produced a similar alarm in france. réaumur, on going from paris to tours, in september, 1730, found every oak, great and small, literally swarming with them, and their leaves parched and brown as if some burning wind had passed over them; for when newly hatched, like the young buff-tips, they only eat one of the membranes of the leaf, and of course the other withers away. these infant legions, under the shelter of their warm nests, survived the winter in such numbers, that they threatened the destruction not only of the fruit-trees, but of the forests,--every tree, as réaumur says, being overrun with them. the parliament of paris thought that ravages so widely extended loudly called for their interference, and they accordingly issued an edict, to compel the people to uncaterpillar (_décheniller_) the trees; which réaumur ridiculed as impracticable, at least in the forests. about the middle of may, however, a succession of cold rains produced so much mortality among the caterpillars, that the people were happily released from the edict; for it soon became difficult to find a single individual of the species.[eg] in the same way the cold rains, during the summer of 1829, seem to have nearly annihilated the lackeys, which in the early part of the summer swarmed on every hedge around london. the ignorance displayed in france, at the time in question, was not inferior to that recorded by curtis; for the french journalists gravely asserted that part of the caterpillars were produced by spiders; and that these spiders, and not the caterpillars, constructed the webs of the slime of snails, which they were said to have been seen collecting for the purpose! "verily," exclaims réaumur, "there is more ignorance in our age than one might believe." it is justly remarked by curtis, that the caterpillar of the brown-tail moth is not so limited a feeder as some, nor so indiscriminate as others; but that it always confines itself to trees or shrubs, and is never found on herbaceous plants, whose low growth would seldom supply a suitable foundation for its web. hence the absurdity of supposing it would attack the herbage of the field, and produce a famine among cattle. curtis says, it is found on the "hawthorn most plentifully, oak the same, elm very plentifully, most fruit-trees the same, blackthorn plentifully, rose-trees the same, bramble the same, on the willow and poplar scarce. none have been noticed on the elder, walnut, ash, fir, or herbaceous plants. with respect to fruit-trees the injuries they sustain are most serious, as, in destroying the blossoms as yet in the bud, they also destroy the fruit in embryo; the owners of orchards, therefore, have great reason to be alarmed." the sudden appearance of great numbers of these caterpillars in particular years, and their scarcity in others, is in some degree explained by a fact stated by mr. salisbury. "a gentleman of chelsea," he says, "has informed me that he once took a nest of moths and bred them; that some of the eggs came the first year, some the second, and others of the same nest did not hatch till the third season."[eh] we reared, during 1829, several nests both of the brown-tails and of the golden-tails, and a number of the females deposited their eggs in our nurse-cages; but, contrary to the experiment just quoted, all of these were hatched during the same autumn. (j. r.) the difference of temperature and moisture in particular seasons may produce this diversity. a no less remarkable winter nest, of a small species of social caterpillar, is described by m. bonnet, which we omitted to introduce when treating of the glanville fritillary. the nest in question is literally pendulous, being hung from the branch of a fruit tree by a strong silken thread. it consists of one or two leaves neatly folded, and held together with silk, in which the caterpillars live harmoniously together. [illustration: pendulous leaf-nests, from bonnet.] in a recently-published volume of 'travels in mexico,' we find a very remarkable account of some pendulous nests of caterpillars, which appear to be almost as curious as the nests of the pasteboard-making wasps, described at p. 177. the author of these travels does not define the species of caterpillar whose constructions attracted his observation. he says, "after having ascended for about an hour, we came to the region of oaks and other majestically tall trees, the names of which i could not learn. suspended from their stately branches were innumerable nests, enclosed, apparently, in white paper bags, in the manner of bunches of grapes in england, to preserve them from birds and flies. i had the curiosity to examine one of them, which i found to contain numberless caterpillars. the texture is so strong that it is not easily torn; and the interior contained a quantity of green leaves, to support the numerous progeny within."[ei] [we will now give a brief account of several foreign insects that are remarkable for the pendulous nests which they make. the first of these is built by a hymenopterous insect belonging to the genus larrada. it is fastened to the under side of a leaf, and is made of vegetable fibres, cut up very short, and masticated by the insect, much like the materials used by the fungus ant, described on page 311. the insect which forms this nest is black in colour and has very thick legs. the wings are clouded. it is but a small insect, being only three-eighths of an inch in length. both nest and insect are in the collection of mr. f. smith, of the british museum. [illustration: nest of larrada.] in the next illustration are seen two nests built by hymenopterous insects belonging to the hymenopterous genus polybia. the left-hand figure represents a nest made by polybia sedula, a brazilian insect. it is fixed to a large leaf, and, as may be seen, has the entrance at the end of a long neck. the exterior of the nest is a very thin sheet of pale-brown substance, almost identical with the paper with which our british wasps make their nests. it is, however, very much stronger and very much thinner, and is very close in texture, so that it effectually excludes rain. [illustration: nests of polybia.] the right-hand figure shows a nest also brought from brazil. it has no neck, the opening being a mere hole beneath. the name polybia is derived from two greek words signifying that many insects live together, and has been given to the genus on account of the social habits of its members. our next illustration contains some very remarkable nests. the large central nest is the cocoon of a moth belonging to the genus oiketicus, or housebuilder. there are many species of housebuilder moths, and all are remarkable for the fact that the larva never exhibits itself, but builds a dwelling in which it conceals itself, just as does the well-known caddis-worm. indeed the nests of several oiketici look exactly as if the dwelling of a caddis-worm had been greatly enlarged and hung up in a tree. [illustration: nests of oiketicus, &c.] the nest of this species, however, differs from that of the common oiketicus by being covered with a coating of greyish silk. if we cut open the silk, we find a great number of little sticks and leaf-stems crossed on each other, and showing their ends through the silken cover. within these defences there is a layer of leaves cut into small pieces, and lastly comes the cell inhabited by the caterpillar. it is lined with a silken web similar in character to that on the outside, but finer, stronger, and whiter the caterpillar is therefore defended by four distinct barriers. first comes the strong silken web which lines the cell, and next is the layer of leaf fragments. outside them comes the _chevaux de frise_ of crossed sticks, and lastly we have the grey silken web. this outer wrapper has no connection with the interior of the cell, and is only lightly attached to the ends of the cross sticks. within this curious dwelling the caterpillar conceals the whole of its body, clinging to the branch or leaf by its feet, and if alarmed drawing itself up so that the mouth of the cocoon is pressed tightly against the branch, and effectually conceals even the feet which hold it. the other figure on the right hand represents the dwelling of another housebuilder caterpillar. it looks very much as if it were made of drab cloth. the most remarkable point about it is the lower end. when the insect is within the dwelling the extremity has a spiral twist, but when the moth has escaped the spiral form is destroyed, and it appears as represented in the illustration. the female oiketicus never attains the winged state nor leaves her house, but lives and dies in it, almost unchanged in shape. in fact, the adult female is even more undeveloped in appearance than the caterpillar, and looks like a large, fat, unwieldy grub, covered with down. the male, on the contrary, is a tolerably active moth, with sharply-pointed wings and beautiful feathered antennæ. another kind of housebuilder's residence is shown in the lower left-hand figure, enveloped and almost concealed by leaves. the remaining figures represent the dwellings of two unknown insects, both from australia. the upper left-hand nest is made wonderfully like that of the weaver-bird, being composed of fibres like cow-hairs woven loosely together. it is brown outside and white in the interior. the last nest is made of some substance which is smooth, and hard as horn, brown within, and dark grey on the outside. the circular lid by which the enclosed insect escapes is shown open. in the accompanying illustration, we have five remarkable pensile nests of insects, some british, and others exotic. fig. 1 represents the nest of a pelopæus from natal. it is made of dried cow-dung, and is fixed to straws. the length is from three to five inches, and there are sometimes found three or more in a row upon a single straw. the insect is about an inch in length, black-blue in colour, and with clouded wings. the abdomen is small, sharply pointed, and placed on a long footstalk. [illustration: nests of pelopæus (1, 2); anthidium (3); trypoxylon (4); and eumenes (5).] at fig. 2 is seen the nest of _pelopæus flavipes_, a north american insect, which is also fixed along its whole length to the supporting object, which is sometimes a wall, and sometimes, as in the illustration, a branch. it is made of mud, and the insects seem to have a sort of gregarious instinct, loving to fix their nests in rows, one above the other. there is only one larva in each cell. the pelopæi are, by the way, allied to the english genus _ammophila_. fig. 3 shows the nest of _anthidium cordatum_, one of the solitary bees of natal. it is made of vegetable fibres. the insect as well as the nest is represented of the natural size. it is black and shining, with the under part and sides and legs yellowish. at fig. 4 are seen three of the nests of _trypoxylon aurifrons_, a brazilian insect. they are built of mud, and are remarkable for their elegant shape, which looks as if it had been formed by the hand of the potter, and for the manner in which the mouth is turned over so as to form a distinct neck. the larvæ is fed with a store of spiders. the insect is represented of the natural size; its colour is black, and the face is covered with short golden hairs, a fact which has gained for it the name of aurifrons, or golden-fronted. our last example, fig. 5, is the nest of an english insect, _eumenes coarctata_. the insect is represented of its natural size. it is very pretty in colour as well as elegant in shape, being black, diversified with yellow bands and spots. the nest is made of clay, and is found upon the heath twigs. the larvæ of the eumenes are fed with those of a species of _crambus_. the insect is tolerably common in surrey and hampshire, and appears in july and august. the three figures in the next illustration represent the cocoons of three species of the bombycidæ, and are given in order to show the different modes by which they are fastened. the upper nest is hung by a slight cord, which spreads into a broad silken band wrapped round the branch for some distance. the right-hand figure shows a very remarkable cocoon suspended by a long footstalk affixed to a ring. the remarkable point in the construction of this ring is that it is very hard and horny, and is not fastened to the branch, but passes loosely round it, so that the cocoon swings backwards and forwards in the breeze. the cocoon is about two inches in length, and is covered with thick black veinings. the lowermost cocoon is most curiously fixed to the branch by bending the leaves round the exterior of the dwelling, and fixing them to it with silk. all these specimens were brought from northern india.] [illustration: bombycidæ.] in all the nests of social caterpillars, care is taken to leave apertures for passing out and in. it is remarkable, also, that however far they may ramble from their nest, they never fail to find their way back when a shower of rain or nightfall renders shelter necessary. it requires no great shrewdness to discover how they effect this: for by looking closely at their track it will be found that it is carpeted with silk--no individual moving an inch without constructing such a pathway, both for the use of his companions and to facilitate his own return. all these social caterpillars, therefore, move more or less in processional order, each following the road which the first chance traveller has marked out with his strip of silk carpeting. [illustration: nest and order of marching of the processionary caterpillars of the oak (_cnethocampa processionea_).] there are some species, however, which are more remarkable than others in the regularity of their processional marchings, particularly two which are found in the south of europe, but are not indigenous in britain. the one named by réaumur the processionary (_cnethocampa processionea_, stephens) feeds upon the oak; a brood dividing, when newly hatched, into one or more parties of several hundred individuals, which afterwards unite in constructing a common nest nearly two feet long, and from four to six inches in diameter. as it is not divided like that of the brown-tails into chambers, but consists of one large hall, it is not necessary that there should be more openings than one; and accordingly, when an individual goes out and carpets a path, the whole colony instinctively follow in the same track, though from the immense population they are often compelled to march in parallel files from two to six deep. the procession is always headed by a single caterpillar; sometimes the leader is immediately followed by one or two in single file, and sometimes by two abreast, as represented in the cut. a similar procedure is followed by a species of social caterpillars which feed on the pine in savoy and languedoc; and though their nests are not half the size of the preceding, they are more worthy of notice, from the strong and excellent quality of their silk, which réaumur was of opinion might be advantageously manufactured. their nest consists of more chambers than one, but is furnished with a main entrance, through which the colonists conduct their foraging processions. [in the accompanying illustration is shown a nest of the processionary caterpillar, part of which has been torn away to show the interior. inside may be seen the larva of a certain beetle (_calosoma sycophanta_), which feeds on these caterpillars, and one of the beetles is seen below in the act of ascending the tree. this beetle, although exceedingly scarce in england, is very common on the continent, and trees have been cleared of processionary caterpillars by the simple process of putting a few female beetles upon the branches.] [illustration: nest of processionary caterpillars (_cnethocampa_ and _calosoma_).] _chapter xviii._ structures of spiders. modern naturalists do not rank spiders among insects, because they have no antennæ, and no division between the head and the shoulders. they breathe by leaf-shaped gills, situated under the belly, instead of spiracles in the sides; have a heart connected with these; have eight legs instead of six; and eight fixed eyes. but as spiders are popularly considered insects, it will sufficiently suit our purpose to introduce them here as such. the apparatus by which spiders construct their ingenious fabrics is much more complicated than that which we have described as common to the various species of caterpillars. caterpillars have only two reservoirs for the materials of their silk; but spiders, according to the dissections of m. treviranus, have four principal vessels, two larger and two smaller, with a number of minute ones at their base. several small tubes branch towards the reservoirs, for carrying to them, no doubt, a supply of the secreted material. swammerdam describes them as twisted into many coils of an agate colour.[ej] we do not find them coiled, but nearly straight, and of a deep-yellow colour. from these, when broken, threads can be drawn out like those spun by the spider, though we cannot draw them so fine by many degrees. from these little flasks or bags of gum, situated near the apex of the abdomen, and not at the mouth, as in caterpillars, a tube originates, and terminates in the external spinnerets, which may be seen by the naked eye in the larger spiders, in the form of five little teats surrounded by a circle, as represented in the following figure. [illustration: garden spider (_epeira diadema_), suspended by a thread proceeding from its spinneret.] we have seen that the silken thread of a caterpillar is composed of two united within the tube of the spinneret, but the spider's thread would appear, from the first view of its five spinnerets, to be quintuple, and in some species which have six teats, so many times more. it is not safe, however, in our interpretations of nature to proceed upon conjecture, however plausible, nor to take anything for granted which we have not actually seen; since our inferences in such cases are almost certain to be erroneous. if aristotle, for example, had ever looked narrowly at a spider when spinning, he could not have fancied, as he does, that the materials which it uses are nothing but wool stripped from its body. on looking, then, with a strong magnifying glass, at the teat-shaped spinnerets of a spider, we perceive them studded with regular rows of minute bristle-like points, about a thousand to each teat, making in all from five to six thousand. these are minute tubes which we may appropriately term _spinnerules_, as each is connected with the internal reservoirs, and emits a thread of inconceivable fineness. in the following figure, this wonderful apparatus is represented as it appears in the microscope. [illustration: spinnerets of a spider magnified to show the _spinnerules_.] we do not recollect that naturalists have ventured to assign any cause for this very remarkable multiplicity of the spinnerules of spiders, so different from the simple spinneret of caterpillars. to us it appears to be an admirable provision for their mode of life. caterpillars neither require such strong materials, nor that their thread should dry as quickly. it is well known in our manufactures, particularly in rope-spinning, that in cords of equal thickness, those which are composed of many smaller ones united are greatly stronger than those which are spun at once. in the instance of the spider's thread, this principle must hold still more strikingly, inasmuch as it is composed of fluid materials that require to be dried rapidly, and this drying must be greatly facilitated by exposing so many to the air separately before their union, which is effected at the distance of about a tenth of an inch from the spinnerets. in the following figure each of the threads represented is reckoned to contain one hundred minute threads, the whole forming only one of the spider's common threads. leeuwenhoeck, in one of his extraordinary microscopical observations on a young spider not bigger than a grain of sand, upon enumerating the threadlets in one of its threads, calculated that it would require four millions of them to be as thick as a hair of his beard. [illustration: a single thread of a spider, greatly magnified, so that, for the small space represented, the lines are shown as parallel.] [illustration: attached end of a spider's thread magnified.] another important advantage derived by the spider from the multiplicity of its threadlets is, that the thread affords a much more secure attachment to a wall, a branch of a tree, or any other object, than if it were simple; for, upon pressing the spinneret against the object, as spiders always do when they fix a thread, the spinnerules are extended over an area of some diameter, from every hair's-breadth of which a _strand_, as rope-makers term it, is extended to compound the main cord. the preceding figure exhibits this ingenious contrivance. those who may be curious to examine this contrivance will see it best when the line is attached to any black object, for the threads, being whitish, are, in other cases, not so easily perceived. shooting of the lines. it has long been considered a curious though a difficult investigation, to determine in what manner spiders, seeing that they are destitute of wings, transport themselves from tree to tree, across brooks, and frequently through the air itself, without any apparent starting point. on looking into the authors who have treated upon this subject, it is surprising how little there is to be met with that is new, even in the most recent. their conclusions, or rather their conjectural opinions, are, however, worthy of notice; for by unlearning error, we the more firmly establish truth. 1. one of the earliest notions upon this subject is that of blancanus, the commentator on aristotle, which is partly adopted by redi, by henricus regius of utrecht, by swammerdam,[ek] by lehmann, and by kirby and spence.[el] "the spider's thread," says swammerdam, "is generally made up of two or more parts, and after descending by such a thread, it ascends by one only, and is thus enabled to waft itself from one height or tree to another, even across running waters; the thread it leaves loose behind it being driven about by the wind, and so fixed to some other body." "i placed," says kirby, "the large garden spider (_epeira diadema_) upon a stick about a foot long, set upright in a vessel containing water.... it let itself drop, not by a single thread, but by _two_, each distant from the other about the twelfth of an inch, guided, as usual, by one of its hind feet, and one apparently smaller than the other. when it had suffered itself to descend nearly to the surface of the water, it stopped short, and by some means, which i could not distinctly see, broke off, close to the spinners, the smallest thread, which still adhering by the other end to the top of the stick, floated in the air, and was so light as to be carried about by the slightest breath. on approaching a pencil to the loose end of this line, it did not adhere from mere contact. i therefore twisted it once or twice round the pencil, and then drew it tight. the spider, which had previously climbed to the top of the stick, immediately pulled at it with one of its feet, and finding it sufficiently tense, crept along it, strengthening it as it proceeded by another thread, and thus reached the pencil." we have repeatedly witnessed this occurrence, both in the fields and when spiders were placed for experiment, as kirby has described; but we very much doubt that the thread broken is ever intended as a bridge cable, or that it would have been so used in that instance, had it not been artificially fixed and accidentally found again by the spider. according to our observations, a spider never abandons, for an instant, the thread which she despatches in quest of an attachment, but uniformly keeps trying it with her feet, in order to ascertain its success. we are, therefore, persuaded that when a thread is broken in the manner above described, it is because it has been spun too weak; and spiders may often be seen breaking such threads in the process of netting their webs. (j. r.) the plan, besides, as explained by these distinguished writers, would more frequently prove abortive than successful, from the cut thread not being sufficiently long. they admit, indeed, that spiders' lines are often found "a yard or two long, fastened to twigs of grass not a foot in height.... here, therefore, some other process must have been used."[em] 2. our celebrated english naturalist, dr. lister, whose treatise upon our native spiders has been the basis of every subsequent work on the subject, maintains that "some spiders shoot out their threads in the same manner that porcupines do their quills;[en] that whereas the quills of the latter are entirely separated from their bodies, when thus shot out, the threads of the former remain fixed to their anus, as the sun's rays to its body."[eo] a french periodical writer goes a little farther, and says, that spiders have the power of shooting out threads, and directing them at pleasure towards a determined point, judging of the distance and position of the object by some sense of which we are ignorant.[ep] kirby also says, that he once observed a small garden spider (_aranea reticulata_) "standing midway on a long perpendicular fixed thread, and an appearance caught" his "eye, of what seemed to be the emission of threads." "i, therefore," he adds, "moved my arm in the direction in which they apparently proceeded, and, as i had suspected, a floating thread attached itself to my coat, along which the spider crept. as this was connected with the spinners of the spider, it could not have been formed" by breaking a "secondary thread."[eq] again, in speaking of the gossamer-spider, he says, "it first extends its thigh, shank, and foot, into a right line, and then, elevating its abdomen till it becomes vertical, _shoots its thread_ into the air, and flies off from its station."[er] another distinguished naturalist, mr. white of selborne, in speaking of the gossamer-spider, says, "every day in fine weather in autumn do i see these spiders shooting out their webs, and mounting aloft: they will go off from the finger, if you will take them into your hand. last summer, one alighted on my book as i was reading in the parlour; and running to the top of the page, and _shooting out a web_, took its departure from thence. but what i most wondered at was, that it went off with considerable velocity in a place where no air was stirring; and i am sure i did not assist it with my breath."[es] having so often witnessed the thread set afloat in the air by spiders, we can readily conceive the way in which those eminent naturalists were led to suppose it to be ejected by some animal force acting like a syringe; but as the statement can be completely disproved by experiment, we shall only at present ask, in the words of swammerdam--"how can it be possible that a thread so fine and slender should be shot out with force enough to divide and pass through the air?--is it not rather probable that the air would stop its progress, and so entangle it and fit it to perplex the spider's operations?"[et] the opinion, indeed, is equally improbable with another, suggested by dr. lister, that the spider can retract her thread within the abdomen, after it has been emitted.[eu] de geer[ev] very justly joins swammerdam in rejecting both of these fancies, which, in our own earlier observations upon spiders, certainly struck us as plausible and true. there can be no doubt, indeed, that the animal has a voluntary power of permitting the material to escape, or stopping it at pleasure, but this power is not projectile. 3. "there are many people," says the abbé de la pluche, "who believe that the spider flies when they see her pass from branch to branch, and even from one high tree to another; but she transports herself in this manner: she places herself upon the end of a branch, or some projecting body, and there fastens her thread; after which, with her two hind feet, she squeezes her dugs (_spinnerets_), and presses out one or more threads of two or three ells in length, which she leaves to float in the air till it be fixed to some particular place."[ew] without pretending to have observed this, swammerdam says, "i can easily comprehend how spiders, without giving themselves any motion, may, by only compressing their spinnerets, force out a thread, which being driven by the wind, may serve to waft them from one place to another."[ex] others, proceeding upon a similar notion, give a rather different account of the matter. "the spider," says bingley, "fixes one end of a thread to the place where she stands, and then with her hind paws draws out several other threads from the nipples, which, being lengthened out and driven by the wind to some neighbouring tree or other object, are by their natural clamminess fixed to it."[ey] observation gives some plausibility to the latter opinion, as the spider always actively uses her legs, though not to draw out the thread, but to ascertain whether it has caught upon any object. the notion of her pressing the spinneret with her feet must be a mere fancy; at least it is not countenanced by anything which we have observed. 4. an opinion much more recondite is mentioned, if it was not started, by m. d'isjonval, that the floating of the spider's thread is electrical. "frogs, cats, and other animals," he says, "are affected by natural electricity, and feel the change of weather; but no other animal more than myself and my spiders." during wet and windy weather he accordingly found that they spun very short lines, "but when a spider spins a long thread, there is a certainty of fine weather for at least ten or twelve days afterwards."[ez] a periodical writer, who signs himself carolan,[fa] fancies that in darting out her thread the spider emits a stream of air, or some subtle electric fluid, by which she guides it as if by magic. a living writer (mr. john murray), whose learning and skill in conducting experiments give no little weight to his opinions, has carried these views considerably farther. "the aëronautic spider," he says, "can propel its thread both horizontally and vertically, and at all relative angles, in motionless air, and in an atmosphere agitated by winds; nay more, the aërial traveller can even dart its thread, to use a nautical phrase, in the 'wind's eye.' my opinion and observations are based on many hundred experiments.... the entire phenomena are electrical. when a thread is propelled in a vertical plane, it remains perpendicular to the horizontal plane, always upright, and when others are projected at angles more or less inclined, their direction is invariably preserved; the threads never intermingle, and when a pencil of threads is propelled, it ever presents the appearance of a divergent brush. these are electrical phenomena, and cannot be explained but on electrical principles." "in clear, fine weather, the air is invariably positive; and it is precisely in such weather that the aëronautic spider makes its ascent most easily and rapidly, whether it be in summer or in winter." "when the air is weakly positive, the ascent of the spider will be difficult, and its altitude extremely limited, and the threads propelled will be but little elevated above the horizontal plane. when negative electricity prevails, as in cloudy weather, or on the approach of rain, and the index of de saussure's hygrometer rapidly advancing towards humidity, the spider is unable to ascend."[fb] mr. murray had previously told us, that "when a stick of excited sealing-wax is brought near the thread of suspension, it is evidently repelled; consequently, the electricity of the thread is of a negative character," while "an excited glass tube brought near, seemed to attract the thread, and with it the aëronautic spider."[fc] his friend, mr. bowman, further describes the aërial spider as "shooting out four or five, often six or eight, extremely fine webs several yards long, which waved in the breeze, diverging from each other like a pencil of rays." one of them "had two distinct and widely-diverging fasciculi of webs," and "a line uniting them would have been at right angles to the direction of the breeze."[fd] such is the chief evidence in support of the electrical theory; but though we have tried these experiments, we have not succeeded in verifying any one of them. the following statements of mr. blackwall come nearer our own observations. 5. "having procured a small branched twig," says mr. blackwall, "i fixed it upright in an earthen vessel containing water, its base being immersed in the liquid, and upon it i placed several of the spiders which produce gossamer. whenever the insects thus circumstanced were exposed to a current of air, either naturally or artificially produced, they directly turned the thorax towards the quarter whence it came, even when it was so slight as scarcely to be perceptible, and elevating the abdomen, they emitted from their spinners a small portion of glutinous matter, which was instantly carried out in a line, consisting of four finer ones, with a velocity equal, or nearly so, to that with which the air moved, as was apparent from observations made on the motion of detached lines similarly exposed. the spiders, in the next place, carefully ascertained whether their lines had become firmly attached to any object or not, by pulling at them with the first pair of legs; and if the result was satisfactory, after tightening them sufficiently, they made them pass to the twig; then discharging from their spinners, which they applied to the spot where they stood, a little more of their liquid gum, and committing themselves to these bridges of their own constructing, they passed over them in safety, drawing a second line after them, as a security in case the first gave way, and so effected their escape. "such was invariably the result when spiders were placed where the air was liable to be sensibly agitated: i resolved, therefore, to put a bell-glass over them; and in this situation they remained seventeen days, evidently unable to produce a single line by which they could quit the branch they occupied, without encountering the water at its base; though, on the removal of the glass, they regained their liberty with as much celerity as in the instances already recorded. "this experiment, which, from want of due precaution, has misled so many distinguished naturalists, i have tried with several geometric spiders, and always with the same success."[fe] mr. blackwall, from subsequent experiments, says he is "confident in affirming, that in motionless air spiders have not the power of darting their threads even through the space of half an inch."[ff] the following details are given in confirmation of this opinion. mr. blackwall observed, the 1st oct., 1826, a little before noon, with the sun shining brightly, no wind stirring, and the thermometer in the shade ranging from 55°·5 to 64°, a profusion of shining lines crossing each other at every angle, forming a confused net-work, covering the fields and hedges, and thickly coating his feet and ankles, as he walked across a pasture. he was more struck with the phenomenon, because on the previous day a strong gale of wind had blown from the south, and as gossamer is only seen in calm weather, it must have been all produced within a very short time. "what more particularly arrested my attention," says mr. blackwall, "was the ascent of an amazing quantity of webs, of an irregular, complicated structure, resembling ravelled silk of the finest quality and clearest white; they were of various shapes and dimensions, some of the largest measuring upwards of a yard in length, and several inches in breadth in the widest part; while others were almost as broad as long, presenting an area of a few square inches only. "these webs, it was quickly perceived, were not formed in the air, as is generally believed, but at the earth's surface. the lines of which they were composed, being brought into contact by the mechanical action of gentle airs, adhered together, till, by continual additions, they were accumulated into flakes or masses of considerable magnitude, on which the ascending current, occasioned by the rarefaction of the air contiguous to the heated ground, acted with so much force as to separate them from the objects to which they were attached, raising them in the atmosphere to a perpendicular height of at least several hundred feet. i collected a number of these webs about mid-day, as they rose; and again in the afternoon, when the upward current had ceased, and they were falling; but scarcely one in twenty contained a spider: though, on minute inspection, i found small winged insects, chiefly aphides, entangled in most of them. "from contemplating this unusual display of gossamer, my thoughts were naturally directed to the animals which produced it, and the countless myriads in which they swarmed almost created as much surprise as the singular occupation that engrossed them. apparently actuated by the same impulse, all were intent upon traversing the regions of air: accordingly, after gaining the summits of various objects, as blades of grass, stubble, rails, gates, &c., by the slow and laborious process of climbing, they raised themselves still higher by straightening their limbs; and elevating the abdomen, by bringing it from the usual horizontal position into one almost perpendicular, they emitted from their spinning apparatus a small quantity of the glutinous secretion with which they construct their webs. this viscous substance being drawn out by the ascending current of rarefied air into fine lines several feet in length, was carried upward, until the spiders, feeling themselves acted upon with sufficient force in that direction, quitted their hold of the objects on which they stood, and commenced their journey by mounting aloft. "whenever the lines became inadequate to the purpose for which they were intended, by adhering to any fixed body, they were immediately detached from the spinners, and so converted into terrestrial gossamer, by means of the last pair of legs, and the proceedings just described were repeated; which plainly proves that these operations result from a strong desire felt by the insects to effect an ascent."[fg] mr. blackwall has recently read a paper (still unpublished) in the linnean society, confirmatory of his opinions. 6. without going into the particulars of what agrees or disagrees in the above experiments with our own observations, we shall give a brief account of what we have actually seen in our researches. (j. r.) so far as we have determined, then, all the various species of spiders, how different soever the form of their webs may be, proceed in the circumstance of shooting their lines precisely alike; but those which we have found the most manageable in experimenting, are the small gossamer spider (_aranea obtextrix_, bechstein), known by its shining blackish-brown body and reddish-brown semi-transparent legs; but particularly the long-bodied spider (_tetragnatha extensa_, latr.), which varies in colour from green to brownish or grey--but has always a black line along the belly, with a silvery white or yellowish one on each side. the latter is chiefly recommended by being a very industrious and persevering spinner, while its movements are easily seen, from the long cylindrical form of its body and the length of its legs. we placed the above two species with five or six others, including the garden, the domestic and the labyrinthic spiders, in empty wine-glasses, set in tea-saucers filled with water to prevent their escape. when they discovered, by repeated descents from the brims of the glasses, that they were thus surrounded by a wet ditch, they all set themselves to the task of throwing their silken bridges across. for this purpose they first endeavoured to ascertain in what direction the wind blew, or rather (as the experiment was made in our study) which way any current of air set,--by elevating their arms as we have seen sailors do in a dead calm. but, as it may prove more interesting to keep to one individual, we shall first watch the proceedings of the gossamer spider. finding no current of air on any quarter of the brim of the glass, it seemed to give up all hopes of constructing its bridge of escape, and placed itself in the attitude of repose; but no sooner did we produce a stream of air, by blowing gently towards its position, than, fixing a thread to the glass, and laying hold of it with one of its feet, by way of security, it placed its body in a vertical position, with its spinnerets extended outwards; and immediately we had the pleasure of seeing a thread streaming out from them several feet in length, on which the little aëronaut sprung up into the air. we were convinced, from what we thus observed, that it was the double or bend of the thread which was blown into the air; and we assigned as a reason for her previously attaching and drawing out a thread from the glass, the wish to give the wind a _point d'appui_--something upon which it might have a _purchase_, as a mechanic would say of a lever. the bend of the thread, then, on this view of the matter, would be carried out by the wind,--would form the point of impulsion,--and, of course, the escape bridge would be an ordinary line doubled. such was our conclusion, which was strongly corroborated by what we subsequently found said by m. latreille--than whom no higher authority could be given. "when the animal," says he, "desires to cross a brook, she fixes to a tree or some other object one of the ends of her first threads, in order that the wind or a current of air may carry the other end beyond the obstacle;"[fh] and as one end is always attached to the spinnerets, he must mean that the double of the thread flies off. in his previous publications, however, latreille had contented himself with copying the statement of dr. lister. in order to ascertain the fact, and put an end to all doubts, we watched, with great care and minuteness, the proceedings of the long-bodied spider above mentioned, by producing a stream of air in the same manner, as it perambulated the brim of the glass. it immediately, as the other had done, attached a thread, and raised its body perpendicularly, like a tumbler, standing on his hands with his head downwards; but we looked in vain for this thread bending, as we had at first supposed, and going off double. instead of this it remained tight, while another thread, or what appeared to be so, streamed off from the spinners, similar to smoke issuing through a pin-hole, sometimes in a line, and sometimes at a considerable angle, with the first, according to the current of the air,--the first thread, extended from the glass to the spinnerets, remaining all the while tight drawn in a right line. it further appeared to us, that the first thread proceeded from the pair of spinnerets nearest the head, while the floating thread came from the outer pair,--though it is possible in such minute objects we may have been deceived. that the first was continuous with the second, without any perceptible joining, we ascertained in numerous instances, by catching the floating line and pulling it tight, in which case the spider glides along without attaching another line to the glass; but if she has to coil up the floating line to tighten it, as usually happens, she gathers it into a packet and glues the two ends tight together. her body, while the floating line streamed out, remained quite motionless, but we distinctly saw the spinnerets not only projected, as is always done when a spider spins, but moved in the same way as an infant moves its lips when sucking. we cannot doubt, therefore, that this motion is intended to emit (if _eject_ or _project_ be deemed too strong words) the liquid material of the thread; at the same time, we are quite certain that it cannot throw out a single inch of thread without the aid of a current of air. a long-bodied spider will thus throw out in succession as many threads as we please, by simply blowing towards it; but not one where there is no current, as under a bell-glass, where it may be kept till it die, without being able to construct a bridge over water of an inch long. we never observed more than one floating thread produced at the same time; though other observers mention several. the probable commencement, we think, of the floating line, is by the emission of little globules of the glutinous material to the points of the spinnerules--perhaps it may be dropped from them, if not ejected, and the globules being carried off by the current of air, drawn out into a thread. but we give this as only a conjecture, for we could not bring a glass of sufficient power to bear upon the spinnerules at the commencement of the floating line. in subsequent experiments we found that it was not indispensable for the spider to rest upon a solid body when producing a line, as she can do so while she is suspended in the air by another line. when the current of air also is strong, she will sometimes commit herself to it by swinging from the end of the line. we have even remarked this when there was scarcely a breath of air. we tried another experiment. we pressed pretty firmly upon the base of the spinnerets, so as not to injure the spider, blowing obliquely over them; but no floating line appeared. we then touched them with a pencil and drew out several lines an inch or two in length, upon which we blew in order to extend them; but in this also we were unsuccessful, as they did not lengthen more than a quarter of an inch. we next traced out the reservoirs of a garden-spider (_epeira diadema_), and immediately taking a drop of the matter from one of them on the point of a fine needle, we directed upon it a strong current of air, and succeeded in blowing out a thick yellow line, as we might have done with gum-water, of about an inch and a half long. when we observed our long-bodied spider eager to throw a line by raising up its body, we brought within three inches of its spinnerets an excited stick of sealing-wax, of which it took no notice, nor did any thread extend to it, not even when brought almost to touch the spinnerets. we had the same want of success with an excited glass rod; and indeed we had not anticipated any other result, as we have never observed that these either attract or repel the floating threads, as mr. murray has seen them do; nor have we ever seen the end of a floating thread separated into its component threadlets and diverging like a brush, as he and mr. bowman describe. it may be proper to mention that mr. murray, in conformity with his theory, explains the shooting of lines in a current of air by the electric state produced by motion in consequence of the mutual friction of the gaseous particles. but this view of the matter does not seem to affect our statements. nests, webs, and nets of spiders. the neatest, though the smallest spider's nest which we have seen, was constructed in the chink of a garden post, which we had cut out in the previous summer in getting at the cells of a carpenter-bee. the architect was one of the large hunting-spiders, erroneously said by some naturalists to be incapable of spinning. the nest in question was about two inches high, composed of a very close satin-like texture. there were two parallel chambers placed perpendicularly, in which position also the inhabitant reposed there during the day, going, as we presume, only abroad to prey during the night. but the most remarkable circumstance was, that the openings (two above and two below) were so elastic, that they shut almost as closely as the boat cocoon of the _tortrix chlorana_. we observed this spider for several months, but at last it disappeared, and we took the nest out, under the notion that it might contain eggs; but we found none, and therefore conclude that it was only used as a day retreat. (j. r.) the account which evelyn has given of these hunting-spiders is so interesting, that we must transcribe it. "of all sorts of insects," says he, "there is none has afforded me more divertisement than the _venatores_ (hunters), which are a sort of _lupi_ (wolves) that have their dens in rugged walls and crevices of our houses; a small brown and delicately-spotted kind of spiders, whose hinder legs are longer than the rest. such i did frequently observe at rome, which, espying a fly at three or four yards' distance, upon the balcony where i stood, would not make directly to her, but crawl under the rail till, being arrived at the antipodes, it would steal up, seldom missing its aim; but if it chanced to want anything of being perfectly opposite, would, at first peep, immediately slide down again,--till, taking better notice, it would come the next time exactly upon the fly's back: but if this happened not to be within a competent leap, then would this insect move so softly, as the very shadow of the gnomon seemed not to be more imperceptible, unless the fly moved; and then would the spider move also in the same proportion, keeping that just time with her motion, as if the same soul had animated both these little bodies; and whether it were forwards, backwards, or to either side, without at all turning her body like a well-managed horse: but if the capricious fly took wing and pitched upon another place behind our huntress, then would the spider whirl its body so nimbly about, as nothing could be imagined more swift: by which means she always kept the head towards her prey, though, to appearance, as immovable as if it had been a nail driven into the wood, till by that indiscernible progress (being arrived within the sphere of her reach) she made a fatal leap, swift as lightning, upon the fly, catching him in the pole, where she never quitted hold till her belly was full, and then carried the remainder home." one feels a little sceptical, however, when he adds, "i have beheld them instructing their young ones how to hunt, which they would sometimes discipline for not well observing; but when any of the old ones did (as sometimes) miss a leap, they would run out of the field and hide themselves in their crannies, as ashamed, and haply not to be seen abroad for four or five hours after; for so long have i watched the nature of this strange insect, the contemplation of whose so wonderful sagacity and address has amazed me; nor do i find in any chase whatsoever more cunning and stratagem observed. i have found some of these spiders in my garden, when the weather, towards spring, is very hot, but they are nothing so eager in hunting as in italy."[fi] we have only to add to this lively narrative, that the hunting-spider, when he leaps, takes good care to provide against accidental falls by always swinging himself from a good strong cable of silk, as swammerdam correctly states,[fj] and which anybody may verify, as one of the small hunters (_salticus scenicus_), known by having its back striped with black and white like a zebra, is very common in britain. mr. weston, the editor of 'bloomfield's remains,' falls into a very singular mistake about hunting-spiders, imagining them to be web-weaving ones which have exhausted their materials, and which are therefore compelled to hunt. in proof of this he gives an instance which fell under his own observation![fk] as a contrast to the little elastic satin nest of the hunter, we may mention the largest with which we are acquainted,--that of the labyrinthic spider (_agelena labyrinthica_, walchenaer). our readers must often have seen this nest spread out like a broad sheet in hedges, furze, and other low bushes, and sometimes on the ground. the middle of this sheet, which is of a close texture, is swung like a sailor's hammock, by silken ropes extended all around to the higher branches; but the whole curves upwards and backwards, sloping down to a long funnel-shaped gallery which is nearly horizontal at the entrance, but soon winds obliquely till it becomes quite perpendicular. this curved gallery is about a quarter of an inch in diameter, is much more closely woven than the sheet part of the web, and sometimes descends into a hole in the ground, though oftener into a group of crowded twigs, or a tuft of grass. here the spider dwells secure, frequently resting with her legs extended from the entrance of the gallery, ready to spring out upon whatever insect may fall into her sheet net. she herself can only be caught by getting behind her and forcing her out into the web; but though we have often endeavoured to make her construct a nest under our eye, we have been as unsuccessful as in similar experiments with the common house spider (_aranea domestica_). (j. r.) the house spider's proceedings were long ago described by homberg, and the account has been copied, as usual, by almost every subsequent writer. goldsmith has, indeed, given some strange misstatements from his own observations, and bingley has added the original remark, that, after fixing its first thread, creeping along the wall, and joining it as it proceeds, it "_darts itself to the opposite side_, where the other end is to be fastened!"[fl] homberg's spider took the more circuitous route of travelling to the opposite wall, carrying in one of the claws the end of the thread previously fixed, lest it should stick in the wrong place. this we believe to be the correct statement, for as the web is always horizontal, it would seldom answer to commit a floating thread to the wind, as is done by other species. homberg's spider, after stretching as many lines by way of _warp_ as it deemed sufficient between the two walls of the corner which it had chosen, proceeded to cross this in the way our weavers do in adding the _woof_, with this difference, that the spider's threads were only laid on, and not interlaced.[fm] the domestic spiders, however, in these modern days, must have forgot this mode of weaving, for none of their webs will be found to be thus regularly constructed! the geometric, or net-working spiders (_tendeuses_, latr.), are as well known in most districts as any of the preceding; almost every bush and tree in the gardens and hedge-rows having one or more of their nets stretched out in a vertical position between adjacent branches. the common garden spider (_epeira diadema_), and the long-bodied spider (_tetragnatha extensa_), are the best known of this order. the chief care of a spider of this sort is, to form a cable of sufficient strength to bear the net she means to hang upon it; and, after throwing out a floating line as above described, when it catches properly she doubles and redoubles it with additional threads. on trying its strength she is not contented with the test of pulling it with her legs, but drops herself down several feet from various points of it, as we have often seen, swinging and bobbing with the whole weight of her body. she proceeds in a similar manner with the rest of the framework of her wheel-shaped net; and it may be remarked that some of the ends of these lines are not simple, but in form of a y, giving her the additional security of two attachments instead of one. [illustration: geometric net of _epeira diadema_.] in constructing the body of the net, the most remarkable circumstance is her using her limbs as a measure, to regulate the distances of her _radii_ or wheel-spokes, and the circular meshes interweaved into them. these are consequently always proportional to the size of the spider. she often takes up her station in the centre, but not always, though it is so said by inaccurate writers; for she as frequently lurks in a little chamber constructed under a leaf or other shelter at the corner of her web, ready to dart down upon whatever prey may be entangled in her net. the centre of the net is said also to be composed of more viscid materials than its suspensory lines,--a circumstance alleged to be proved by the former appearing under the microscope studded with globules of gum.[fn] we have not been able to verify this distinction, having seen the suspensory lines as often studded in this manner as those in the centre. (j. r.) mason-spiders. a no less wonderful structure is composed by a sort of spiders, natives of the tropics and the south of europe, which have been justly called mason-spiders by m. latreille. one of these (_mygale nidulans_, walckn.), found in the west indies, "digs a hole in the earth obliquely downwards about three inches in length, and one in diameter. this cavity she lines with a tough thick web, which, when taken out, resembles a leathern purse; but, what is most curious, this house has a door with hinges, like the operculum of some sea-shells, and herself and family, who tenant this nest, open and shut the door whenever they pass and repass. this history was told me," says darwin, "and the nest, with its door, shown me by the late dr. butt, of bath, who was some years physician in jamaica."[fo] [illustration: nest of the mason-spider. a. the nest shut. b. the nest open. c. the spider, _mygale cæmentaria_. d. the eyes magnified. e, f. parts of the foot and claw magnified.] the nest of a mason-spider, similar to this, has been obligingly put into our hands by mr. riddle, of blackheath. it came from the west indies, and is probably that of latreille's clay-kneader (_mygale cratiens_), and one of the smallest of the genus. we have since seen a pair of these spiders in possession of mr. william mello, of blackheath. the nest is composed of very hard argillaceous clay, deeply tinged with brown oxide of iron. it is in form of a tube, about one inch in diameter, between six and seven inches long, and slightly bent towards the lower extremity--appearing to have been mined into the clay rather than built. the interior of the tube is lined with a uniform tapestry of silken web, of an orange-white colour, with a texture intermediate between india paper and very fine glove leather. but the most wonderful part of this nest is its entrance, which we look upon as the perfection of insect architecture. a circular door, about the size of a crown piece, slightly concave on the outside and convex within, is formed of more than a dozen layers of the same web which lines the interior, closely laid upon one another, and shaped so that the inner layers are the broadest, the outer being gradually less in diameter, except towards the hinge, which is about an inch long; and in consequence of all the layers being united there, and prolonged into the tube, it becomes the thickest and strongest part of the structure. the elasticity of the materials, also, gives to this hinge the remarkable peculiarity of acting like a spring, and shutting the door of the nest spontaneously. it is, besides, made to fit so accurately to the aperture, which is composed of similar concentric layers of web, that it is almost impossible to distinguish the joining by the most careful inspection. to gratify curiosity, the door has been opened and shut hundreds of times, without in the least destroying the power of the spring. when the door is shut, it resembles some of the lichens (_lecidea_), or the leathery fungi, such as _polyporus versicolor_ (micheli), or, nearer still, the upper valve of a young oyster shell. the door of the nest, the only part seen above ground, being of a blackish-brown colour, it must be very difficult to discover. (j. r.) another mason-spider (_mygale cæmentaria_, latr.), found in the south of france, usually selects for her nest a place bare of grass, sloping in such a manner as to carry off the water, and of a firm soil, without rocks or small stones. she digs a gallery a foot or two in depth, and of a diameter (equal throughout) sufficient to admit of her easily passing. she lines this with a tapestry of silk glued to the walls. the door, which is circular, is constructed of many layers of earth kneaded, and bound together with silk. externally, it is flat and rough, corresponding to the earth around the entrance, for the purpose, no doubt, of concealment: on the inside it is convex, and tapestried thickly with a web of fine silk. the threads of this door-tapestry are prolonged, and strongly attached to the upper side of the entrance, forming an excellent hinge, which, when pushed open by the spider, shuts again by its own weight, without the aid of spring hinges. when the spider is at home, and her door forcibly opened by an intruder, she pulls it strongly inwards, and even when half-opened often snatches it out of the hand; but when she is foiled in this, she retreats to the bottom of her den, as her last resource.[fp] rossi ascertained that the female of an allied species (_mygale sauvagesii_, latr.), found in corsica, lived in one of these nests, with a numerous posterity. he destroyed one of these doors to observe whether a new one would be made, which it was; but it was fixed immovably, without a hinge; the spider, no doubt, fortifying herself in this manner till she thought she might reopen it without danger.[fq] [the accompanying illustration shows one of these nests, which is in my own collection. it was brought from jamaica, together with the spider that made it. [illustration] the nest is nearly six inches in length, and is made of a double layer of silken web. the inner layer is yellowish, with a tinge of red, and although fine, very tough and strong. the outer layer is thick, coarse, dark brown, and rather flaky, the dark colour being probably caused by the earth which is mixed with it. the lid is made of eight or ten layers of coarse web, overlapping each other like the tiles of a house-roof, and the entrance of the nest is formed after the same fashion. if the lid be opened, the inside of the nest is seen to be of a different make from the exterior, being greyish-white, smooth, close-textured, and looking much like the finest kid leather. [illustration] the smaller illustration shows the spider in the act of emerging from its home.] * * * * * "the rev. revett shepherd has often noticed, in the fen ditches of norfolk, a very large spider (the species not yet determined) which actually forms a _raft_ for the purpose of obtaining its prey with more facility. keeping its station upon a ball of weeds about three inches in diameter, probably held together by slight silken cords, it is wafted along the surface of the water upon this floating island, which it quits the moment it sees a drowning insect. the booty thus seized it devours at leisure upon its raft, under which it retires when alarmed by any danger."[fr] in the spring of 1830, we found a spider on some reeds in the croydon canal, which agreed in appearance with mr. shepherd's. among our native spiders there are several besides this one, which, not contented with a web like the rest of their congeners, take advantage of other materials to construct cells where, "hushed in grim repose," they "expect their insect prey." the most simple of those spider-cells is constructed by a longish-bodied spider (_aranea holosericea_, linn.), which is a little larger than the common hunting-spider. it rolls up a leaf of the lilac or poplar, precisely in the same manner as is done by the leaf-rolling caterpillars, upon whose cells it sometimes seizes to save itself trouble, having first expelled, or perhaps devoured, the rightful owner. the spider, however, is not satisfied with the tapestry of the caterpillar, but always weaves a fresh set of her own, much more close and substantial. another spider, common in woods and copses (_epeira quadrata?_), weaves together a great number of leaves to form a dwelling for herself, and in front of it she spreads her toils for entrapping the unwary insects which stray thither. these, as soon as caught, are dragged into her den, and stored up for a time of scarcity. here also her eggs are deposited and hatched in safety. when the cold weather approaches, and the leaves of her edifice wither, she abandons it for the more secure shelter of a hollow tree, where she soon dies; but the continuation of the species depends upon eggs, deposited in the nest before winter, and remaining to be hatched with the warmth of the ensuing summer. the spider's den of united leaves, however, which has just been described, is not always useless when withered and deserted, for the dormouse usually selects it as a ready-made roof for its nest of dried grass. that those old spiders' dens are not accidentally chosen by the mouse, appears from the fact, that out of about a dozen mouse-nests of this sort found during winter in a copse between lewisham and bromley, kent, every second or third one was furnished with such a roof. (j. r.) diving water-spider. though spiders require atmospheric air for respiration, yet one species well known to naturalists is aquatic in its habits, and lives not only upon the surface but below the surface of the water, contriving to carry down with it a sufficiency of air for the support of life during a considerable period of time. its subaqueous nest is in fact a sort of diving-bell, and constitutes a secure and most ingenious habitation. this spider does not like stagnant water, but prefers low running streams, canals, and ditches, where she may often be seen in the vicinity of london and elsewhere, living in her diving-bell, which shines through the water like a little globe of silver: her singular economy was first, we believe, described by clerck,[fs] l. m. de lignac,[ft] and de geer. "the shining appearance," says clerck, "proceeds either from an inflated globule surrounding the abdomen, or from the space between the body and the water. the spider, when wishing to inhale the air, rises to the surface, with its body still submersed, and only the part containing the spinneret rising just to the surface, when it briskly opens and moves its four teats. a thick coat of hair keeps the water from approaching or wetting the abdomen. it comes up for air about four times an hour or oftener, though i have good reason to suppose it can continue without it for several days together. "i found in the middle of may one male and ten females, which i put into a glass filled with water, where they lived together very quietly for eight days. i put some duckweed (_lemna_) into the glass to afford them shelter, and the females began to stretch diagonal threads in a confused manner from it to the sides of the glass about half-way down. each of the females afterwards fixed a close bag to the edge of the glass, from which the water was expelled by the air from the spinneret, and thus a cell was formed capable of containing the whole animal. here they remained quietly, with their abdomens in their cells, and their bodies still plunged in the water; and in a short time brimstone-coloured bags of eggs appeared in each cell, filling it about a fourth part. on the 7th of july several young ones swam out from one of the bags. all this time the old ones had nothing to eat, and yet they never attacked one another as other spiders would have been apt to do."[fu] "these spiders," says de geer, "spin in the water a cell of strong, closely-woven white silk, in the form of half the shell of a pigeon's egg, or like a diving-bell. this is sometimes left partly above water, but at others is entirely submersed, and is always attached to the objects near it by a great number of irregular threads. it is closed all round, but has a large opening below, which, however, i found closed on the 15th of december, and the spider living quietly within, with her head downwards. i made a rent in this cell, and expelled the air, upon which the spider came out; yet, though she appeared to have been laid up for three months in her winter quarters, she greedily seized upon an insect and sucked it. i also found that the male as well as the female constructs a similar subaqueous cell, and during summer no less than in winter."[fv] we have recently kept one of these spiders for several months in a glass of water, where it built a cell half under water, in which it laid its eggs. cleanliness of spiders. when we look at the viscid material with which spiders construct their lines and webs, and at the rough, hairy covering (with a few exceptions) of their bodies, we might conclude that they would be always stuck over with fragments of the minute fibres which they produce. this, indeed, must often happen, did they not take careful precautions to avoid it; for we have observed that they seldom, if ever, leave a thread to float at random, except when they wish to form a bridge. when a spider drops along a line, for instance, in order to ascertain the strength of her web, or the nature of the place below her, she invariably, when she reascends, coils it up into a little ball, and throws it away. her claws are admirably adapted for this purpose, as well as for walking along the lines, as may be readily seen by a magnifying glass. [illustration: triple-clawed foot of a spider, magnified.] there are three claws, one of which acts as a thumb, the others being toothed like a comb, for gliding along the lines. this structure, however, unfits it to walk, as flies can do, upon any upright polished surface like glass; although the contrary[fw] is erroneously asserted by the abbé de la pluche. before she can do so, she is obliged to construct a ladder of ropes, as mr. blackwell remarks,[fx] by elevating her spinneret as high as she can, and laying down a step upon which she stands to form a second, and so on; as any one may try by placing a spider at the bottom of a very clean wine-glass. the hairs of the legs, however, are always catching bits of web and particles of dust; but these are not suffered to remain long. most people may have remarked that the house-fly is ever and anon brushing its feet upon one another to rub off the dust, though we have not seen it remarked in authors that spiders are equally assiduous in keeping themselves clean. they have, besides, a very efficient instrument in their mandibles or jaws, which, like their claws, are furnished with teeth; and a spider which appears to a careless observer as resting idly, in nine cases out of ten will be found slowly combing her legs with her mandibles, beginning as high as possible on the thigh, and passing down to the claws. the flue which she thus combs off is regularly tossed away. with respect to the house-spider (_a. domestica_), we are told in books, that "she from time to time clears away the dust from her web, and sweeps the whole by giving it a shake with her paw, so nicely proportioning the force of her blow, that she never breaks anything."[fy] that spiders may be seen shaking their webs in this manner, we readily admit; though it is not, we imagine, to clear them of dust, but to ascertain whether they are sufficiently sound and strong. we recently witnessed a more laborious process of cleaning a web than merely shaking it. on coming down the maine by the steamboat from frankfort, in august, 1829, we observed the geometric-net of a conic-spider (_epeira conica_, walck.) on the framework of the deck, and as it was covered with flakes of soot from the smoke of the engine, we were surprised to see a spider at work on it; for, in order to be useful, this sort of net must be clean. upon observing it a little closely, however, we perceived that she was not constructing a net, but dressing up an old one; though not, we must think, to save trouble, so much as an expenditure of material. some of the lines she dexterously stripped of the flakes of soot adhering to them; but in the greater number, finding that she could not get them sufficiently clean, she broke them quite off, bundled them up, and tossed them over. we counted five of these packets of rubbish which she thus threw away, though there must have been many more, as it was some time before we discovered the manoeuvre, the packets being so small as not to be readily perceived, except when placed between the eye and the light. when she had cleared off all the sooty lines, she began to replace them in the usual way; but the arrival of the boat at mentz put an end to our observations. (j. r.) bloomfield, the poet, having observed the disappearance of these bits of ravelled web, imagined that the spider swallowed them; and even says that he observed a garden spider moisten the pellets before swallowing them![fz] dr. lister, as we have already seen, thought the spider retracted the threads within the abdomen. _chapter xix._ structures of gall-flies and aphides. many of the processes which we have detailed bear some resemblance to our own operations of building with materials cemented together; but we shall now turn our attention to a class of insect-architects, who cannot, so far as we know, be matched in prospective skill by any of the higher orders of animals. we refer to the numerous family which have received the name of gall-flies,--a family which, as yet, is very imperfectly understood, their economy being no less difficult to trace than their species is to arrange in the established systems of classification; though the latter has been recently much improved by mr. westwood. [illustration: small berry-shaped galls of the oak leaf, produced by _cynips quercus folii_?] one of the most simple and very common instances of the nests constructed by gall-insects, may be found in abundance during the summer, on the leaves of the rose-tree, the oak, the poplar, the willow (_salix viminalis_), and many other trees, in the globular form of a berry, about the size of a currant, and usually of a green colour, tinged with red, like a ripe alban or baltimore apple. when this psuedo-apple in miniature is cut into, it is found to be fresh, firm, juicy, and hollow in the centre, where there is either an egg or a grub safely lodged, and protected from all ordinary accidents. within this hollow ball the egg is hatched, and the grub feeds securely on its substance, till it prepares for its winter sleep, before changing into a gall-fly (_cynips_) in the ensuing summer. there is a mystery as to the manner in which this gall-fly contrives to produce the hollow miniature apples, each enclosing one of her eggs; and the doubts attendant upon the subject cannot, so far as our present knowledge extends, be solved, except by plausible conjecture. our earlier naturalists were of opinion that it was the grub which produced the galls, by eating, when newly hatched, through the cuticle of the leaf, and remaining till the juices flowing from the wound enveloped it, and acquired consistence by exposure to the air. this opinion, however, plausible as it appeared to be, was at once disproved by finding unhatched eggs on opening the galls. [illustration: ovipositor of gall-fly, greatly magnified.] there can be no doubt, indeed, that the mother gall-fly makes a hole in the plant for the purpose of depositing her eggs. she is furnished with an admirable ovipositor for that express purpose, and swammerdam actually saw a gall-fly thus depositing her eggs, and we have recently witnessed the same in several instances. in some of these insects the ovipositor is conspicuously long, even when the insect is at rest; but in others, not above a line or two of it is visible, till the belly of the insect be gently pressed. when this is done to the fly that produces the currant-gall of the oak, the ovipositor may be seen issuing from a sheath in form of a small curved needle, of a chestnut-brown colour, and of a horny substance, and three times as long as it at first appeared. [illustration: gall-fly, and mechanism of ovipositor, greatly magnified.] what is most remarkable in this ovipositor is, that it is much longer than the whole body of the insect, in whose belly it is lodged in a sheath, and, from its horny nature, it cannot be either shortened or lengthened. it is on this account that it is bent into the same curve as the body of the insect. the mechanism by which this is effected is similar to that of the tongue of the woodpeckers (_picidæ_), which, though rather short, can be darted out far beyond the beak, by means of a forked bone at the root of the tongue, which is thin and rolled up like the spring of a watch. the base of the ovipositor of the gall-fly is, in a similar way, placed near the anus, runs along the curvature of the back, makes a turn at the breast, and then, following the curve of the belly, appears again near where it originates. we copy from réaumur his accurate sketch of this remarkable structure. with this instrument the mother gall-fly pierces the part of a plant which she selects, and, according to our older naturalists, "ejects into the cavity a drop of her corroding liquor, and immediately lays an egg or more there; the circulation of the sap being thus interrupted, and thrown, by the poison, into a fermentation that burns the contiguous parts and changes the natural colour. the sap, turned from its proper channel, extravasates and flows round the eggs, while its surface is dried by the external air, and hardens into a vaulted form."[ga] kirby and spence tell us, that the parent fly introduces her egg "into a puncture made by her curious spiral sting, and in a few hours it becomes surrounded with a fleshy chamber."[gb] m. virey says, the gall tubercle is produced by irritation, in the same way as an inflamed tumor in an animal body, by the swelling of the cellular tissue and the flow of liquid matter, which changes the organization, and alters the natural external form.[gc] this seems to be the received doctrine at present in france.[gd] sprengel, speaking of the rose-willow, says, the insect in spring deposits its eggs in the leaf buds. "the new stimulus attracts the sap,--the type of the part becomes changed, and from the prevailing acidity of the animal juice, it happens, that in the rose and stock-shaped leaves which are pushed out, a red instead of a green colour is evolved."[ge] [illustration: bedeguar gall of the rose, produced by _cynips rosæ_.] without pretending positively to state facts which are, perhaps, beyond human penetration, we may view the process in a rather different light. (j. r.) following the analogy of what is _known_ to occur in the case of the saw-flies, after the gall-fly has made a puncture and pushed her egg into the hole, we may suppose that she covers it over with some adhesive gluten or gum, or the egg itself, as is usual among moths, &c., may be coated over with such a gluten. in either of these two cases, the gluten will prevent the sap that flows through the puncture from being scattered over the leaf and wasted; and the sap, being thus confined to the space occupied by the eggs, will expand and force outwards the pellicle of gluten that confines it, till becoming thickened by evaporation and exposure to the air, it at length shuts up the puncture, stops the further escape of the sap, and the process is completed. this explanation will completely account for the globular form of the galls alluded to; that is, supposing the egg of the gall-fly to be globular, and covered or coated with a pellicle of gluten of uniform thickness, and consequently opposing uniform resistance, or rather uniform expansibility, to the sap pressing from within. it will also account for the remarkable uniformity in the size of the gall apples; for the punctures and the eggs being uniform in size, and the gluten, by supposition, uniform in quantity, no more than the same quantity of sap can escape in such circumstances. but though this explanation appears to be plausible, it is confessedly conjectural; for though swammerdam detected a gall-fly in the act of depositing her eggs, he did not attend to this circumstance; and in the instances which we have observed, some unlucky accident always prevented us from following up our observations. the indefatigable réaumur, on one occasion, thought he would make sure of tracing the steps of the process in the case of the gall-fly which produces the substance called _bedeguar_ on the wild rose-tree, and to which we shall presently advert. his plan was to enclose in a box, in which a brood of flies had just been produced from a bedeguar, a living branch from a wild rose-tree; but, to his great disappointment, no eggs were laid, and no bedeguar formed. upon further investigation, he discovered that the brood of flies produced from the bedeguar were not the genuine bedeguar insects at all, but one of the parasite ichneumons (_callimone bedeguaris_, stephens), which had surreptitiously deposited their eggs there, in order to supply their young with the bedeguar grubs, all of which they appeared to have devoured. it may prove interesting to look into the remarkable structure of the bedeguar itself, which is very different from the globular galls above described. [illustration: one of the bristles of the bedeguar of the rose magnified.] the gall-fly of the willow (_cynips viminalis_) deposits, as we have just seen, only a single egg on one spot; but the bedeguar insect lays a large cluster of eggs on the extremity of a growing branch of the wild rose-tree, making, probably, a proportionate number of punctures to procure materials for the future habitation of her young progeny. as in the former case, also, each of these eggs becomes (as we may suppose) surrounded with the sap of the rose, enclosed in a pellicle of gluten. the gluten, however, of the bedeguar insect is not, it would appear, sufficiently tenacious to confine the flowing sap within the dimensions of any of the little clustered globes containing the eggs, for it oozes out from numerous cracks or pores in the pellicle; which cracks or pores, however, are not large enough to admit a human hair. but this, so far from being a defect in the glutinous pellicle of the bedeguar fly, is, as we shall presently see, of great utility. the sap which issues from each of these pores, instead of being evaporated and lost, shoots out into a reddish-coloured, fibrous bristle. it is about half an inch long, and, from the natural tendency of the sap of the rose-tree to form prickles, these are all over studded with weak pricklets. the bedeguar, accordingly, when fully formed, has some resemblance, at a little distance, to a tuft of reddish-brown hair or moss stuck upon the branch. sometimes this tuft is as large as a small apple, and of a rounded but irregular shape; at other times it is smaller, and in one instance mentioned by réaumur, only a single egg had been laid on a rose-leaf, and, consequently, only one tuft was produced. each member of the congeries is furnished with its own tuft of bristles, arising from the little hollow globe in which the egg or the grub is lodged. the prospective wisdom of this curious structure is admirable. the bedeguar grubs live in their cells through the winter, and as their domicile is usually on one of the highest branches, it must be exposed to every severity of the weather. but the close, non-conducting, warm, mossy collection of bristles, with which it is surrounded, forms for the soft, tender grubs a snug protection against the winter's cold, till, through the influence of the warmth of the succeeding summer, they undergo their final change into the winged state; preparatory to which they eat their way with their sharp mandibles through the walls of their little cells, which are now so hard as to be cut with difficulty by a knife. (j. r.) another structure, similar in principle, though different in appearance, is very common upon oak-trees, the termination of a branch being selected as best suited for the purpose. this structure is rather larger than a filbert, and is composed of concentric leaves diverging from the base, and expanding upwards, somewhat like an artichoke. whether this leafy structure is caused by a superinduced disease, as the french think, or by the form of the pores in the pellicle of gluten surrounding the eggs, or rather by the tendency of the exuding sap of the oak to form leaves, has not been ascertained; but that it is intended, as in the case of the bedeguar, to afford an efficient protection against the weather to the included eggs or grubs, there can be no doubt. [illustration: artichoke gall of the oak-bud, with gall-fly (_cynips quercus gemmæ_), natural size, and its ovipositor (_a_) magnified.] from the very nature of the process of forming willow-galls, bedeguar, and the artichoke of the oak, whatever theory be adopted, it will be obvious that their growth must be rapid; for the thickening of the exuded sap, which is quickly effected by evaporation, will soon obstruct and finally close the orifice of the puncture made by the parent insect. it is accordingly asserted by réaumur and other observers, that all the species of galls soon reach their full growth. [illustration: leafy gall of dyer's broom, produced by _cynips genistæ_? a, gall, natural size; b, a leaflet magnified.] a very minute reddish-coloured grub feeds upon dyer's broom (_genista_), producing a sort of gall, frequently globular, but always studded with bristles, arising from the amorphous leaves. the stem of the shrub passes through this ball, which is composed of a great number of leaves, shorter and broader than natural, and each rolled into the form of a horn, the point of which ends in a bristle. in the interior we find a thick fleshy substance, serving to sustain the leaves, and also for the nourishment of the grubs, some of which are within and some between the leaves. they are in prodigious numbers,--hundreds being assembled in the small gall, and so minute as scarcely to be perceived without the aid of a magnifying glass. the bud of the plant attacked by those grubs, instead of forming a shoot, pushes out nothing but leaves, and these are all rolled, and turned round the stem. some shrubs have several of these galls, which are of various sizes, from that of a filbert to that of a walnut. a similar but still more beautiful production is found upon one of the commonest of our indigenous willows (_salix purpurea_), which takes the name of _rose-willow_, more probably from this circumstance than from the red colour of its twigs. the older botanists, not being aware of the cause of such excrescences, considered the plants so affected as distinct species; and old gerard accordingly figures and describes the rose-willow as "not only making a gallant show, but also yielding a most cooling air in the heat of summer, being set up in houses for decking the same." the production in question, however, is nothing more than the effect produced by a species of gall-fly (_cynips salicis_) depositing its eggs in the terminal shoot of a twig, and, like the bedeguar and the oak artichoke, causing leaves to spring out, of a shape totally different from the other leaves of the tree, and arranged very much like the petals of a rose. decandolle says it is found chiefly on the _salix helix_, _s. alba_, and _s. riparia_.[gf] a production very like that of the rose-willow may be commonly met with on the young shoots of the hawthorn, the growth of the shoot affected being stopped, and a crowded bunch of leaves formed at the termination. these leaves, besides being smaller than natural, are studded with short bristly prickles, from the sap (we may suppose) of the hawthorn being prevented from rising into a fresh shoot, and thrown out of its usual course in the formation of the arms. these bristles appear indiscriminately on both sides of the leaves, some of which are bent inwards, while others diverge in their natural manner. this is not caused by the egg or grub of a true gall-fly, but by the small white tapering grub of some dipterous insect, of which we have not ascertained the species, but which is, probably, a _cecidomyia_. each terminal shoot is inhabited by a number of these--not lodged in cells, however, but burrowing indiscriminately among the half-withered brown leaves which occupy the centre of the production. (j. r.) a more remarkable species of gall than any of the above we discovered, in june, 1829, on the twig of an oak in the grounds of mr. perkins, at lee, in kent. when we first saw it, we imagined that the twig was beset with some species of the lanigerous aphides, similar to what is vulgarly called the american or white blight (_aphis lanata_); but on closer examination we discarded this notion. the twig was indeed thickly beset with a white downy, or rather woolly, substance around the stem at the origin of the leaves, which did not appear to be affected in their growth, being well formed, healthy, and luxuriant. we could not doubt that the woolly substance was caused by some insect; but though we cut out a portion of it, we could not detect any egg or grub, and we therefore threw the branch into a drawer, intending to keep it as a specimen, whose history we might complete at some subsequent period. [illustration: semi-gall of the hawthorn, produced by _cecidomyia_? drawn from a specimen.] a few weeks afterwards, on opening this drawer, we were surprised to see a brood of several dozens of a species of gall-fly (_cynips_), similar in form and size to that whose eggs cause the bedeguar of the rose, and differing only in being of a lighter colour, tending to a yellowish brown. we have since met with a figure and description of this gall in swammerdam. we may remark that the above is not the first instance which has occurred in our researches, of gall insects outliving the withering of the branch or leaf from which they obtain their nourishment. [illustration: woolly gall of the oak, less than the natural size, caused by a _cynips_, and drawn from a specimen.] the woolly substance on the branch of the oak which we have described was similarly constituted with the bedeguar of the rose, with this difference, that instead of the individual cells being diffused irregularly through the mass, they were all arranged at the off-goings of the leaf-stalks, each cell being surrounded with a covering of the vegetable wool, which the stimulus of the parent egg, or its gluten, had caused to grow, and from each cell a perfect fly had issued. we also remarked that there were several small groups of individual cells, each of which groups was contained in a species of calyx or cup of leaf-scales, as occurs also in the well-known gall called the oak-apple. we were anxious to watch the proceedings of these flies in the deposition of their eggs, and the subsequent developments of the gall-growths; and endeavoured for that purpose to procure a small oak plant in a garden-pot; but we did not succeed in this: and though they alighted on rose and sweet-briar trees, which we placed in their way, we never observed that they deposited any eggs upon them. in a week or two the whole brood died, or disappeared. (j. r.) there are some galls, formed on low-growing plants, which are covered with down, hair, or wool, though by no means so copiously as the one which we have just described. among the plants so affected are the germander speedwell, wild thyme, ground-ivy, and others to which we shall afterwards advert. [illustration: oak-apple galls, one being cut open to show the vessels running to granules.] the well-known oak-apple is a very pretty example of the galls formed by insects; and this, when compared with other galls which form on the oak, shows the remarkable difference produced on the same plant by the punctures of insects of different species. the oak-apple is commonly as large as a walnut or small apple, rounded, but not quite spherical, the surface being irregularly depressed in various places. the skin is smooth, and tinged with red and yellow, like a ripe apple; and at the base there is, in the earlier part of the summer, a calyx or cup of five or six small brown scaly leaves; but these fall off as the season advances. if an oak-apple be cut transversely, there is brought into view a number of oval granules, each containing a grub, and embedded in a fruit-looking fleshy substance, having fibres running through it. as these fibres, however, run in the direction of the stem, they are best exhibited by a vertical section of the gall; and this also shows the remarkable peculiarity of each fibre terminating in one of the granules, like a footstalk, or rather like a vessel for carrying nourishment. réaumur, indeed, is of opinion that these fibres are the diverted nervures of the leaves, which would have sprung from the bud in which the gall-fly had inserted her eggs, and actually do carry sap-vessels throughout the substance of the gall. [illustration: root galls of the oak, produced by _cynips quercus inferus_? drawn from a specimen.] réaumur says the perfect insects (_cynips quercus_) issued from his galls in june and the beginning of july, and were of a reddish-amber colour. we have procured insects, agreeing with réaumur's description, from galls formed on the bark or wood of the oak, at the line of junction between the root and the stem. these galls are precisely similar in structure to the oak-apple, and are probably formed at a season when the fly perceives, instinctively, that the buds of the young branches are unfit for the purpose of nidification. there is another oak-gall, differing little in size and appearance from the oak-apple, but which is very different in structure, as, instead of giving protection and nourishment to a number of grubs, it is only inhabited by one. this sort of gall, besides, is hard and woody on the outside, resembling a little wooden ball of a yellowish colour, but internally of a soft, spongy texture. the latter substance, however, encloses a small hard gall, which is the immediate residence of the included insect. galls of this description are often found in clusters of from two to seven, near the extremity of a branch, not incorporated, however, but distinctly separate. [illustration: woody gall on a willow branch, drawn from a specimen.] we have obtained a fly very similar to this from a very common gall, which is formed on the branches of the willow. like the one-celled galls just described, this is of a hard, ligneous structure, and forms an irregular protuberance, sometimes at the extremity, and sometimes on the body, of a branch. but instead of one, this has a considerable number of cells, irregularly distributed through its substance. the structure is somewhat spongy, but fibrous; and externally the bark is smoother than that of the branch upon which it grows. (j. r.) the currant-galls (as the french call them) of the oak are exactly similar, when formed on the leaves, to those which we have first described as produced on the leaves of the willow and other trees. but the name of currant-gall seems still more appropriate to an excrescence which grows on the catkins of the oak, giving them very much the appearance of a straggling branch of currants or bird-cherries. the galls resemble currants which have fallen from the tree before being ripe. these galls do not seem to differ from those formed on the leaves of the oak; and are probably the production of the same insect, which selects the catkin in preference, by the same instinct that the oak-apple gall-fly, as we have seen, sometimes deposits its eggs in the bark of the oak near the root. [illustration: currant gall of the catkins of the oak, produced by _cynips quercus pedunculi_?] the gall of the oak, which forms an important dye-stuff, and is used in making writing-ink, is also produced by a _cynips_, and has been described in the 'library of entertaining knowledge' (vegetable substances, p. 16). the employment of the _cynips psenes_ for ripening figs is described in the same volume, p. 244. [illustration: gall of the hawthorn weevil, drawn from specimen. _a_, opened to show the grub.] gall of a hawthorn weevil. in may, 1829, we found on a hawthorn at lee, in kent, the leaves at the extremity of a branch neatly folded up in a bundle, but not quite so closely as is usual in the case of leaf-rolling caterpillars. on opening them, there was no caterpillar to be seen, the centre being occupied with a roundish, brown-coloured, woody substance, similar to some excrescences made by gall-insects (_cynips_). had we been aware of its real nature, we should have put it immediately under a glass or in a box, till the contained insect had developed itself; but instead of this, we opened the ball, where we found a small yellowish grub coiled up, and feeding on the exuding juices of the tree. as we could not replace the grub in its cell, part of the walls of which we had unfortunately broken, we put it in a small pasteboard box with a fresh shoot of hawthorn, expecting that it might construct a fresh cell. this, however, it was probably incompetent to perform: it did not at least make the attempt, and neither did it seem to feed on the fresh branch, keeping in preference to the ruins of its former cell. to our great surprise, although it was thus exposed to the air, and deprived of a considerable portion of its nourishment, both from the part of the cell having been broken off, and from the juices of the branch having been dried up, the insect went through its regular changes, and appeared in the form of a small greyish-brown beetle of the weevil family. the most remarkable circumstance in the case in question, was the apparent inability of the grub to construct a fresh cell after the first was injured,--proving, we think, beyond a doubt, that it is the puncture made by the parent insect when the egg is deposited that causes the exudation and subsequent concretion of the juices forming the gall. these galls were very abundant during the summer of 1830. (j. r.) a few other instances of beetles producing galls are recorded by naturalists. kirby and spence have ascertained, for example, that the bumps formed on the roots of kedlock or charlock (_sinapis arvensis_) are inhabited by the larvæ of a weevil (_curculio contractus_, marsham; and _rhynchoenus assimilis_, fabr.); and it may be reasonably supposed that either the same or similar insects cause the clubbing of the roots of cabbages, and the knob-like galls on turnips, called in some places the _anbury_. we have found them also infesting the roots of the hollyhock (_alcea rosea_). they are evidently beetles of an allied genus which form the woody galls sometimes met with on the leaves of the guelder-rose (_viburnum_), the lime-tree (_tilia europæa_), and the beech (_fagus sylvatica_). there are also some two-winged flies which produce woody galls on various plants, such as the thistle-fly (_tephritis cardui_, latr.). the grubs of this pretty fly produce on the leaf-stalks of thistles an oblong woody knob. on the common white briony (_bryonia dioica_) of our hedges may be found a very pretty fly of this genus, of a yellowish-brown colour, with pellucid wings, waved much like those of the thistle-fly with yellowish brown. this fly lays its eggs near a joint of the stem, and the grubs live upon its substance. the joint swells out into an oval form, furrowed in several places, and the fly is subsequently disclosed. in its perfect state, it feeds on the blossom of the briony. (j. r.) flies of another minute family, the gall-gnats (_cecidomyiæ_, latr.), pass the first stage of their existence in the small globular cottony galls which abound on germander speedwell (_veronica chamædrys_), wild thyme (_thymus serpyllum_), and ground-ivy (_glechoma hederacea_). the latter is by no means uncommon, and may be readily recognised. certain species of plant-lice (_aphides_), whose complete history would require a volume, produce excrescences upon plants which may with some propriety be termed galls, or semi-galls. some of these are without any aperture, whilst others are in form of an inflated vesicle, with a narrow opening on the under side of a leaf, and expanding (for the most part irregularly) into a rounded knob on its upper surface. the mountain-ash (_pyrus aucuparia_) has its leaves and young shoots frequently affected in this way, and sometimes exhibits galls larger than a walnut or even than a man's fist; at other times they do not grow larger than a filbert. upon opening one of these, they are found to be filled with the _aphides sorbi_. if taken at an early stage of their growth, they are found open on the under side of the leaf, and inhabited only by a single female aphis, pregnant with a numerous family of young. in a short time the aperture becomes closed, in consequence of the insect making repeated punctures round its edge, from which sap is exuded and forms an additional portion of the walls of the cell. [illustration: a plant-louse (_aphis_), magnified.] in this early stage of its growth, however, the gall does not, like the galls of the cynips, increase very much in dimensions. it is after the increase of the inhabitants by the young brood that it grows with considerable rapidity; for each additional insect, in order to procure food, has to puncture the wall of the chamber and suck the juices, and from the punctures thus made the sap exudes, and enlarges the walls. as those galls are closed all round in the more advanced state, it does not appear how the insects can ever effect an exit from their imprisonment. [illustration: galls produced on the leaves and leaf-stalks of the poplar by _eriosoma populi_, with the various forms of the insects, winged, not winged, and covered with wool, both of the natural size and magnified.] a much more common production, allied to the one just described, may be found on the poplar in june and july. most of our readers may have observed, about midsummer, a small snow-white tuft of downy-looking substance floating about on the wind, as if animated. those tufts of snow-white down are never seen in numbers at the same time, but generally single, though some dozens of them may be observed in the course of one day. this singular object is a four-winged fly (_eriosoma populi_, leach), whose body is thickly covered with long down--a covering which seems to impede its flight, and make it appear more like an inanimate substance floating about on the wind, than impelled by the volition of a living animal. this pretty fly feeds upon the fresh juices of the black poplar, preferring that of the leaves and leaf-stalks, which it punctures for this purpose with its beak. it fixes itself with this design to a suitable place upon the principal nervure of the leaf, or upon the leaf-stalk, and remains in the same spot till the sap, exuding through the punctures, and thickening by contact with the air, surrounds it with a thick fleshy wall of living vegetable substance, intermediate in texture between the wood and the leaf, being softer than the former and harder than the latter. in this snug little chamber, secure from the intrusion of lady-birds and the grubs of aphidivorous flies (_syrphi_), she brings forth her numerous brood of young ones, who immediately assist in enlarging the extent of their dwelling, by puncturing the walls. in one respect, however, the galls thus formed differ from those of the mountain-ash just described,--those of the poplar having always an opening left into some part of the cell, and usually in that portion of it which is elongated into an obtuse beak. from this opening the young, when arrived at the winged state, make their exit, to form new colonies; and, during their migrations, attract the attention of the most incurious by the singularity of their appearance. (j. r.) on the black poplar there may be found, later in the season than the preceding, a gall of a very different form, though, like the other, it is for the most part on the leaf-stalk. the latter sort of galls are of a spiral form; and though they are closed, they open upon slight pressure, and appear to be formed of two laminæ, twisted so as to unite. it is at this opening that an aperture is formed spontaneously for the exit of the insects, when arrived at a perfect state. in galls of this kind we find aphides, but of a different species from the lanigerous ones, which form the horn-shaped galls above described. leaf-rolling aphides. it may not be improper to introduce here a brief sketch of some other effects, of a somewhat similar kind, produced on leaves by other species of the same family (_aphidæ_). in all the instances of this kind which we have examined, the form which the leaf takes serves as a protection to the insects, both from the weather and from depredators. that there is design in it appears from the circumstance of the aphides crowding into the embowering vault which they have formed; and we are not quite certain whether they do not puncture certain parts of the leaf for the very purpose of making it arch over them; at least, in many cases, such as that of the hop-fly (_aphis humuli_), though the insects are in countless numbers, no arching of the leaves follows. the rose-plant louse, again (_aphis rosæ_), sometimes arches the leaves, but more frequently gets under the protecting folds of the half-expanded leaf-buds. (j. r.) [illustration: leaf of the currant-bush, bulged out by the _aphis ribis_.] one of the most common instances of what we mean occurs on the leaves of the currant-bush, which may often be observed raised up into irregular bulgings, of a reddish-brown colour. on examining the under side of such a leaf there will be seen a crowd of small insects, some with and some without wings, which are the _aphides ribis_ in their different stages, feeding securely and socially on the juices of the leaf. the most remarkable instance of this, however, which we have seen, occurs on the leaves of the elm, and is caused by the _aphis ulmi_. the edge of an elm-leaf inhabited by those aphides is rolled up in an elegant convoluted form, very much like a spiral shell; and in the embowered chamber thus formed the insects are secure from rain, wind, and partially from the depredations of carnivorous insects. one of their greatest enemies, the lady-bird (_coccinella_), seldom ventures, as we have remarked, into concealed corners except in cold weather, and contrives to find food enough among the aphides which feed openly and unprotected, such as the zebra aphides of the alder (_aphides sambuci_). the grubs, however, of the lady-bird, and also those of the aphidivorous flies (_syrphi_), may be found prying into the most secret recesses of a leaf to prey upon the inhabitants, whose slow movements disqualify them from effecting an escape. (j. r.) the effect of the puncture of aphides on growing plants is strikingly illustrated in the shoots of the lime-tree and several other plants, which become bent and contorted on the side attacked by the insects, in the same way that a shoot might warp by the loss of its juices on the side exposed to a brisk fire. the curvings thus effected become very advantageous to the insects, for the leaves sprouting from the twig, which naturally grow at a distance from each other, are brought close together in a bunch, forming a kind of nosegay, that conceals all the colour of the sprig, as well as the insects which are embowered under it, protecting them against the rain and the sun, and at the same time hiding them from observation. it is only requisite, however, where they have formed bowers of this description, to raise the leaves, in order to see the little colony of the aphides,--or the remains of those habitations which they have abandoned. we have sometimes observed sprigs of the lime-tree, of a thumb's thickness, portions of which resembled spiral screws; but we could not certainly have assigned the true cause for this twisting, had we not been acquainted with the manner in which aphides contort the young shoots of this tree.[gg] the shoots of the gooseberry and the willow are sometimes contorted in the same way, but not so strikingly as the shoots of the lime. [illustration: shoot of the lime-tree contorted by the punctures of the _aphis tiliæ_.] pseudo-galls. it may not be out of place to mention here certain anomalous excrescences upon trees and other plants, which, though they much resemble galls, are not so distinctly traceable to the operations of any insect. in our researches after galls, we have not unfrequently met with excrescences which so very much resemble them, that before dissection we should not hesitate to consider them as such, and predict that they formed the nidus of some species of insects. in more instances than one we have felt so strongly assured of this, that we have kept several specimens for some months, in nurse-boxes, expecting that in due time the perfect insect would be disclosed. one of these pseudo-galls occurs on the common bramble (_rubus fruticosus_), and bears some resemblance to the bedeguar of the rose when old and changed by weather. it clusters round the branches in the form of irregular granules, about the size of a pea, very much crowded, the whole excrescence being rather larger than a walnut. we expected to find this excrescence full of grubs, and were much surprised to discover, upon dissection, that it was only a diseased growth of the plant, caused (it might be) by the puncture of an insect, but not for the purpose of a nidus or habitation. (j. r.) [illustration: pseudo-gall of the bramble, drawn from a specimen.] another sort of excrescence is not uncommon on the terminal shoots of the hawthorn. this is in general irregularly oblong, and the bark which covers it is of an iron colour, similar to the scoriæ of a blacksmith's forge. when dissected, we find no traces of insects, but a hard, ligneous, and rather porous texture. it is not improbable that this excrescence may originate in the natural growth of a shoot being checked by the punctures of aphides, or of those grubs which we have described. many of these excrescences, however, are probably altogether unconnected with insects, and are simply hypertrophic diseases, produced by too much nourishment, like the wens produced on animals. instances of this may be seen at the roots of the hollyhock (_althea rosea_) of three or four years' standing; on the stems of the elm and other trees, immediately above the root; and on the upper branches of the birch, where a crowded cluster of twigs sometimes grows, bearing no distant resemblance to a rook's nest in miniature, and provincially called witch-knots. [illustration: pseudo-galls of the hawthorn, drawn from specimens.] one of the prettiest of these pseudo-galls with which we are acquainted, is produced on the scotch fir (_pinus sylvestris_), by the _aphis pini_, which is one of the largest species of our indigenous aphides. the production we allude to may be found, during the summer months, on the terminal shoots of this tree, in the form of a small cone, much like the fruit of the tree in miniature, but with this difference, that the fruit terminates in a point, whereas the pseudo-gall is nearly globular. its colour also, instead of being green, is reddish; but it exhibits the tiled scales of the fruit cone. we have mentioned this the more willingly that it seems to confirm the theory which we have hazarded respecting the formation of the bedeguar of the rose and other true galls--by which we ascribed to the sap, diverted from its natural course by insects, a tendency to form leaves, &c., like those of the plant from which it is made to exude. [illustration: pseudo-gall produced by _aphis_ _pini_ on the scotch fir, drawn from a specimen.] _chapter xx._ animal galls,[gh] produced by breeze-flies and snail-beetles. the structures which we have hitherto noticed have all been formed of inanimate materials, or at the most of growing vegetables; but those to which we shall now advert are actually composed of the flesh of living animals, and seem to be somewhat akin to the galls already described as formed upon the shoots and leaves of plants. these were first investigated by the accurate vallisnieri, and subsequently by réaumur, de geer, and linnæus; but the best account which has hitherto been given of them is by our countryman mr. bracey clark, who differs essentially from his predecessors as to the mode in which the eggs are deposited. as, in consequence of the extreme difficulty, if not the impossibility, of personal observation, it is no easy matter to decide between the conflicting opinions, we shall give such of the statements as appear most plausible. the mother breeze-fly (_oestrus bovis_, clark;--_hypoderma bovis_, latr.), which produces the tumours in cattle called _wurbles_ or _wormuls_ (_quasi_, _worm-holes_), is a two-winged insect, smaller, but similar in appearance and colour to the carder-bee (p. 75), with two black bands, one crossing the shoulders and the other the abdomen, the rest being covered with yellow hair. this fly appears to have been first discovered by vallisnieri, who has given a curious and interesting history of his observations upon its economy. "after having read this account," says réaumur, "with sincere pleasure, i became exceedingly desirous of seeing with my own eyes what the italian naturalist had reported in so erudite and pleasing a manner. i did not then imagine that it would ever be my lot to speak upon a subject which had been treated with so much care and elegance; but since i have enjoyed more favourable opportunities than m. vallisnieri, it was not difficult for me to investigate some of the circumstances better, and to consider them under a different point of view. it is not, indeed, very wonderful to discover something new in an object, though it has been already carefully inspected with very good eyes, when we sit down to examine it more narrowly, and in a more favourable position; while it sometimes happens, also, that most indifferent observers have detected what had been previously unnoticed by the most skilful interpreters of nature."[gi] from the observations made by réaumur, he concluded that the mother-fly, above described, deposits her eggs in the flesh of the larger animals, for which purpose she is furnished with an ovipositor of singular mechanism. we have seen that the ovipositors in the gall-flies (_cynips_) are rolled up within the body of the insect somewhat like the spring of a watch, so that they can be thrust out to more than double their apparent length. to effect the same purpose, the ovipositor of the ox-fly lengthens, by a series of sliding tubes, precisely like an opera-glass. there are four of these tubes, as may be seen by pressing the belly of the fly till they come into view. like other ovipositors of this sort, they are composed of a horny substance; but the terminal piece is very different indeed from the same part in the gall-flies, the tree-hoppers (_cicadæ_), and the ichneumons, being composed of five points, three of which are longer than the other two, and at first sight not unlike a _fleur-de-lis_, though, upon narrower inspection, they may be discovered to terminate in curved points, somewhat like the claw of a cat. the two shorter pieces are also pointed, but not curved; and by the union of the five, a tube is composed for the passage of the eggs. it would be necessary, réaumur confesses, to see the fly employ this instrument to understand in what manner it acts, though he is disposed to consider it fit for boring through the hides of cattle. "whenever i have succeeded," he adds, "in seeing these insects at work, they have usually shown that they proceeded quite differently from what i had imagined; but unfortunately i have never been able to see one of them pierce the hide of a cow under my eyes."[gj] [illustration: ovipositor of the breeze-fly, greatly magnified, with a claw and part of the tube, distinct.] mr. bracey clark, taking another view of the matter, is decidedly of opinion that the fly does not pierce the skin of cattle with its ovipositor at all, but merely glues its eggs to the hairs, while the grubs, when hatched, eat their way under the skin. if this be the fact, as is not improbable, the three curved pieces of the ovipositor, instead of acting, as réaumur imagined, like a centre-bit, will only serve to prevent the eggs from falling till they are firmly glued to the hair, the opening formed by the two shorter points permitting this to be effected. this account of the matter is rendered more plausible, from réaumur's statement that the deposition of the egg is not attended by much pain, unless, as he adds, some very sensible nervous fibres have been wounded. according to this view, we must not estimate the pain produced by the thickness of the instrument; for the sting of a wasp, or a bee, although very considerably smaller than the ovipositor of the ox-fly, causes a very pungent pain. it is, in the latter case, the poison infused by the sting, rather than the wound, which occasions the pain; and vallisnieri is of opinion that the ox-fly emits some acrid matter along with her eggs, but there is no proof of this beyond conjecture. it ought to be remarked, however, that cattle have very thick hides, which are so far from being acutely sensitive of pain, that in countries where they are put to draw ploughs and waggons, they find a whip ineffectual to drive them, and have to use a goad, in form of an iron needle, at the end of a stick. were the pain inflicted by the fly very acute, it would find it next to impossible to lay thirty or forty eggs without being killed by the strokes of the ox's tail; for though vallisnieri supposes that the fly is shrewd enough to choose such places as the tail cannot reach, réaumur saw a cow repeatedly flap its tail upon a part full of the gall-bumps; and in another instance he saw a heifer beat away a party of common flies from a part where there were seven or eight gall-bumps. he concludes, therefore, with much plausibility, that these two beasts would have treated the ox-flies in the same way, if they had given them pain when depositing their eggs. the extraordinary effects produced upon cattle, on the appearance of one of these flies, would certainly lead us to conclude that the pain inflicted is excruciating. most of our readers may recollect to have seen, in the summer months, a whole herd of cattle start off across a field in full gallop, as if they were racing,--their movements indescribably awkward--their tails being poked out behind them as straight and stiff as a post, and their necks stretched to their utmost length. all this consternation has been known, from the earliest times, to be produced by the fly we are describing. virgil gives a correct and lively picture of it in his georgies,[gk] of which the following is a translation, a little varied from trapp: round mount alburnus, green with shady oaks, and in the groves of silarus, there flies an insect pest (named _oestrus_ by the greeks, by us _asilus_): fierce with jarring hum it drives, pursuing, the affrighted herd from glade to glade; the air, the woods, the banks of the dried river echo their loud bellowing. had we not other instances to adduce, of similar terror caused among sheep, deer, and horses, by insects of the same genus, which are ascertained not to penetrate the skin, we should not have hesitated to conclude that vallisnieri and réaumur are right, and mr. bracey clark wrong. in the strictly similar instance of reindeer-fly (_oestrus tarandi_, linn.), we have the high authority of linnæus for the fact, that it lays its eggs _upon_ the skin. "i remarked," he says, "with astonishment how greatly the reindeer are incommoded in hot weather, insomuch that they cannot stand still a minute, no not a moment, without changing their posture, starting, puffing and blowing continually, and all on account of a little fly. even though amongst a herd of perhaps five hundred reindeer, there were not above ten of those flies, every one of the herd trembled and kept pushing its neighbour about. the fly, meanwhile, was trying every means to get at them; but it no sooner touched any part of their bodies, than they made an immediate effort to shake it off. i caught one of these insects as it was flying along with its tail protruded, which had at its extremity a small linear orifice perfectly white. the tail itself consisted of four or five tubular joints, slipping into each other like a pocket spying-glass, which this fly, like others, has a power of contracting at pleasure."[gl] in another work he is still more explicit. "this well-known fly," he says, "hovers the whole day over the back of the reindeer, with its tail protruded and a little bent, upon the point of which it holds a small white egg, scarcely so large as a mustard-seed, and when it has placed itself in a perpendicular position, it drops its egg, which rolls down amongst the hair to the skin, where it is hatched by the natural heat and perspiration of the reindeer, and the grub eats its way slowly under the skin, causing a bump as large as an acorn."[gm] the male and female of the reindeer breeze-fly are figured in the 'library of entertaining knowledge, menageries,' vol. i. p. 405. there is one circumstance which, though it appears to us to be of some importance in the question, has been either overlooked or misrepresented in books. "while the female fly," say kirby and spence, "is performing the operation of oviposition, the animal attempts to lash her off as it does other flies, with its tail;"[gn] though this is not only at variance with their own words in the page but one preceding, where they most accurately describe "the herd with their tails in the air, or turned upon their backs, or stiffly stretched out in the direction of the spine,"[go] but with the two facts mentioned above from réaumur, as well as with common observation. if the ox then do not attempt to lash off the breeze-fly, but runs with its tail stiffly extended, it affords a strong presumption that the fly terrifies him by her buzzing (_asper_, _acerba sonans_), rather than pains him by piercing his hide: her buzz, like the rattle of the rattlesnake, being instinctively understood, and intended, it may be, to prevent an over-population, by rendering it difficult to deposit the eggs. the horse breeze-fly (_gasterophilus equi_, leach), which produces the maggots well known by the name of _botts_ in horses, is ascertained beyond a doubt to deposit her eggs upon the hair; and as insects of the same genus almost invariably proceed upon similar principles, however much they may vary in minute particulars, it may be inferred with justice, that the breeze-flies which produce galls do the same. the description given by mr. bracey clark, of the proceedings of the horse breeze-fly, is exceedingly interesting. "when the female has been impregnated, and her eggs sufficiently matured, she seeks among the horses a subject for her purpose, and approaching him on the wing, she carries her body nearly upright in the air, and her tail, which is _lengthened for the purpose_,[gp] curved inwards and upwards; in this way she approaches the part where she designs to deposit the egg; and suspending herself for a few seconds before it, suddenly darts upon it and leaves the egg adhering to the hair; she hardly appears to settle, but merely touches the hair with the egg _held out on the projected point of the abdomen_.[gp] the egg is made to adhere by means of a glutinous liquor secreted with it. she then leaves the horse at a small distance, and prepares a second egg, and poising herself before the part, deposits it in the same way. the liquor dries, and the egg becomes firmly glued to the hair: this is repeated by these flies till four or five hundred eggs are sometimes placed on one horse." mr. clark farther tells us, that the fly is careful to select a part of the skin which the horse can easily reach with his tongue, such as the inside of the knee, or the side and back part of the shoulder. it was at first conjectured, that the horse licks off the eggs thus deposited, and that they are by this means conveyed into its stomach; but mr. clark says, "i do not find this to be the case, or at least only by accident; for when they have remained on the hair four or five days, they become ripe, after which time the slightest application of warmth and moisture is sufficient to bring forth, in an instant, the latent larva. at this time, if the tongue of the horse touches the egg, its operculum is thrown open, and a small, active worm is produced, which readily adheres to the moist surface of the tongue, and is thence conveyed with the food to the stomach." he adds, that "a horse which has no ova deposited on him may yet have botts, by performing the friendly office of licking another horse that has."[gq] the irritations produced by common flies (_anthomyiæ meteoricæ_, meigen) are alleged as the incitement to licking. the circumstance, however, of most importance to our purpose, is the agitation and terror produced both by this fly and by another horse breeze-fly (_gasterophilus hæmorrhoidalis_, leach), which deposits its eggs upon the lips of the horse as the sheep breeze-fly (_oestrus ovis_) does on that of the sheep. the first of these is described by mr. clark as "very distressing to the animal, from the excessive titillation it occasions; for he immediately after rubs his mouth against the ground, his fore-feet, or sometimes against a tree, with great emotion; till, finding this mode of defence insufficient, he quits the spot in a rage, and endeavours to avoid it by galloping away to a distant part of the field, and if the fly still continues to follow and teaze him, his last resource is in the water, where the insect is never observed to pursue him. these flies appear sometimes to hide themselves in the grass, and as the horse stoops to graze they dart upon the mouth or lips, and are always observed to poise themselves during a few seconds in the air, while the egg is prepared _on the extended point of the abdomen_."[gr] the moment the second fly just mentioned touches the nose of a sheep, the animal shakes its head and strikes the ground violently with its fore-feet, and at the same time holding its nose to the earth, it runs away, looking about on every side to see if the flies pursue. a sheep will also smell the grass as it goes, lest a fly should be lying in wait, and if one be detected, it runs off in terror. as it will not, like a horse or an ox, take refuge in the water, it has recourse to a rut or dry dusty road, holding its nose close to the ground, thus rendering it difficult for the fly to get at the nostril. [illustration: _a_, the belly of the grub. _b_, its back. _c_, the tail of the grub, greatly magnified. _d_, the bump, or gall, having its external aperture filled with the tail of the grub.] when the egg of the ox breeze-fly (_hypoderma bovis_, latr.) is hatched, it immediately (if mr. bracey clark be correct) burrows into the skin; while, according to réaumur, it is hatched there. at all events, the grub is found in a bump on the animal's back, resembling a gall on a tree,--"a place," says réaumur, "where food is found in abundance, where it is protected from the weather, where it enjoys at all times an equal degree of warmth, and where it finally attains maturity."[gs] when in an advanced stage, the bumps appear much like the swellings produced upon the forehead by a smart blow. these, with the grubs, are represented in the foregoing figure, and also at page 434. every bump, according to réaumur, has in its inside a cavity, which is a lodging proportionate to the size of the insect. the bump and cavity also increase in proportion to the growth of the grub. it is not until about the middle of may that these bumps can be seen full grown. owing to particular circumstances, they do not all attain an equal size. the largest of them are sixteen or seventeen lines in diameter at their base, and about an inch high; but they are scarcely perceptible before the beginning or during the course of the winter. [illustration: fly, maggot, and grub of the ox breeze-fly, with a microscopic view of the maggot.] it is commonly upon young cattle, such, namely, as are two or three years old, that the greatest number of bumps is found; it being rare to observe them upon very old animals. the fly seems to be well aware that such skins will not oppose too much resistance, and seems to know, also, that tender flesh is the most proper for supplying good nourishment to its progeny. "and why," asks réaumur, "should not the instinct which conducts it to confide its eggs to the flesh of certain species only, lead it to prefer the flesh of animals of the same species which is most preferable?" the number of bumps which are found upon a beast is equal to the number of eggs which have been deposited in its flesh; or, to speak more correctly, to the number of eggs which have succeeded, for apparently all are not fertile; but this number is very different upon different cattle. upon one cow only three or four bumps may be observed, while upon another there will appear from thirty to forty. they are not always placed on the same parts, nor arranged in the same manner: commonly, they are near the spine, but sometimes upon or near the thighs and shoulders. sometimes they are at remote distances from each other; at other times they are so near that their circumferences meet. in certain places, three or four tumors may be seen touching each other; and more than a dozen sometimes occur arranged as closely together as possible. it is very essential to the grub that the hole of the tumor should remain constantly open; for by this aperture a communication with the air necessary for respiration is preserved; and the grub is thence placed in the most favourable position for receiving air. its spiracles for respiration, like those of many other grubs, are situated immediately upon the posterior extremity of the body. now, being almost always placed in such a situation as to have this part above, or upon a level with the external aperture, it is enabled to respire freely.[gt] [illustration: bumps or wurbles produced on cattle by the ox breeze-fly.] we have not so many examples of galls of this kind as we have of vegetable galls; and when we described the surprising varieties of the latter, we did not perceive that it was essential to the insects inhabiting them to preserve a communication with the external air: in the galls of trees, openings expressly designed or kept free for the admission of air are never observed. must the grub, then, which inhabits the latter have less need of respiring air than the grub of the breeze-flies in a flesh-gall? without doubt, not; but the apertures by which the air is admitted to the inhabitants of the woody gall, although they may escape our notice, in consequence of their minuteness, are not, in fact, less real. we know that, however careful we may be in inserting a cork into a glass, the mercury with which it is filled is not sheltered from the action of the air, which weighs upon the cork; we know that the air passes through, and acts upon the mercury in the tube. the air can also, in the same way, penetrate through the obstruction of a gall of wood, though it have no perceptible opening or crack; but the air cannot pass in this manner so readily through the skins and membranes of animals. in order to see the interior of the cavity of an animal gall, réaumur opened several, either with a razor or a pair of scissors; the operation, however, cannot fail to be painful to the cow, and consequently renders it impatient under the process. the grub being confined in a tolerably large fistulous ulcer, a part of the cavity must necessarily be filled with pus or matter. the bump is a sort of cautery, which has been opened by the insect, as issues are made by caustic: the grub occupies this issue, and prevents it from closing. if the pus or matter which is in the cavity, and that which is daily added to it, had no means of escaping, each tumor would become a considerable abscess, in which the grub would perish; but the hole of the bump, which admits the entrance of the air, permits the pus or matter to escape; that pus frequently mats the hairs together which are above the small holes, and this drying around the holes acquires a consistency, and forms in the interior of the opening a kind of ring. this matter appears to be the only aliment allowed for the grub, for there is no appearance that it lives, like the grubs of flesh-flies, upon putrescent meat. mandibles, indeed, similar to those with which other grubs break their food, are altogether wanting. a beast which has thirty, forty, or more of these bumps upon its back, would be in a condition of great pain and suffering, terrible indeed in the extreme, if its flesh were torn and devoured by as many large grubs; but there is every appearance that they do not at all afflict, or only afflict it with little pain. for this reason cattle most covered with bumps are not considered by the farmer as injured by the presence of the fly, which generally selects those in the best condition. a fly, evidently of the same family with the preceding, is described in bruce's 'travels,' under the name of zimb, as burrowing during its grub state in the hides of the elephant, the rhinoceros, the camel, and cattle. "it resembles," he says, "the gad-fly in england, its motion being more sudden and rapid than that of a bee. there is something peculiar in the sound or buzzing of this insect; it is a jarring noise together with a humming, which as soon as it is heard all the cattle forsake their food and run wildly about the plain till they die, worn out with fatigue, fright, and hunger. i have found," he adds, "some of these tubercles upon almost every elephant and rhinoceros that i have seen, and attribute them to this cause. when the camel is attacked by this fly, his body, head, and legs break out into large bosses, which swell, break, and putrefy, to the certain destruction of the creature."[gu] that camels die under such symptoms, we do not doubt; but we should not, without more minutely-accurate observation, trace all this to the breeze-fly. mm. humboldt and bonpland discovered, in south america, a species, probably of the same genus, which attacks man himself. the perfect insect is about the size of our common house-fly (_musca domestica_), and the bump formed by the grub, which is usually on the belly, is similar to that caused by the ox breeze-fly. it requires six months to come to maturity; and if it is irritated it eats deeper into the flesh, sometimes causing fatal inflammations. grub parasite in the snail. during the summer of 1829, we discovered in the hole of a garden-post, at blackheath, one of the larger grey snail shells (_helix aspersa_, muller), with three white soft-bodied grubs burrowing in the body of the snail. they evidently, from their appearance, belonged to some species of beetle, and we carefully preserved them in order to watch their economy. it appeared to us that they had attacked the snail in its stronghold while it was laid up torpid for the winter; for more than half of the body was already devoured. they constructed for themselves little cells attached to the inside of the shell, and composed of a sort of fibrous matter, having no distant resemblance to shag tobacco, both in form and smell, and which could be nothing else than the remains of the snail's body. soon after we took them, appearing to have devoured all that remained of the poor snail, we furnished them with another, which they devoured in the same manner. they formed a cocoon of the same fibrous materials during the autumn, and in the end of october appeared in their perfect form, turning out to be _drilus flavescens_, the grub of which was first discovered in france in 1824. the time of their appearance, it may be remarked, coincides with the period when snails become torpid. (j. r.) in the following autumn, we found a shell of the same species with a small pupa-shaped egg deposited on the lid. from this a caterpillar was hatched, which subsequently devoured the snail, spun a cocoon within the shell, and was transformed into a small moth (of which we have not ascertained the species) in the spring of 1830. [before concluding the account of the parasite insects, it will be necessary to mention two of our british ichneumonidæ, which not only deposit their eggs in the larvæ of other insects, but make for themselves cells of very beautiful structure. in the accompanying illustration are shown the cells of one of our commonest and most useful ichneumonidæ (_microgaster glomeratus_), together with the insect itself. at fig. 1_a_ (p. 438) is shown the little insect of the natural size, and the same is given at 1 much magnified. this creature lays its eggs in the body of the cabbage caterpillar, forty or fifty eggs being deposited in the same larva. they soon hatch into little transparent grubs, which lie under the skin, and live on the fatty parts of the caterpillar, which continues to grow, and seems to thrive, whereas its bulk is largely made up of the ichneumon larvæ. [illustration: microgaster glomeratus.] after the caterpillar ceases from feeding, it crawls aside for the purpose of assuming the pupal state. but, before it can do so, the ichneumon larvæ, which have also ceased from feeding, burst their way through the sides of the caterpillar, and immediately begin to spin their cocoon. these are oval, very small, and covered with yellow silk. a group of these cocoons is shown at fig. 3. the innumerable fibres of these cocoons hamper the caterpillars so much that, in most cases, it seldom is able to stir from the spot, but dies in the midst of its enemies. groups of these yellow cocoons can be found in every wall or paling near cabbage gardens. in a few days, the larvæ have passed through their pupal stage, assuming the winged state, and emerge from the cocoons through little circular doors, as seen in fig. 2. our second illustration represents another species, _microgaster alveolarius_, together with its cocoons. as before, the insect is shown of its natural size at la, and magnified at 1. the preliminary life of this insect is exactly the same as that of the preceding; but, instead of making a number of independent and separate cocoons, the insects spin so closely together that they form an edifice very much resembling a bee-comb. fig. 5 represents one of these cell-groups of the natural size, and the edge of another group is shown at fig. 4. a longitudinal section, slightly enlarged, is given at 3, in order to show the hexagonal shape assumed by the aggregated cells; and fig. 2 shows the little lids which open to give egress to the insect. all these figures are drawn from specimens in my collection.] [illustration: microgaster alveolarius.] the end. london: printed by w. clowes and sons, stamford street and charing cross. footnotes: [a] stephens' illustrations, vol. i., p. 72, note. [b] contemplation de la nature, part ii. ch. 42. [c] the original observations in this volume which are marked by the initials j. r., are by j. rennie, a.m., a.l.s., and those which are enclosed in brackets are by the rev. j. g. wood, m.a., f.l.s. [d] introduction to entomology, vol. i. [e] dunciad, book iv. [f] humboldt, voyage, lib. vii., ch. 20. [g] amer. ornith., i., p. 144. [h] amer. ornith., iii., p. 21. [i] blumenbach; see also insect transformations, p. 231. [j] nomina si pereant, perit et cognitio rerum. [k] j. r., in mag. of natural history, vol. i., p. 334. [l] miss jermyn's butterfly collector, p. 11. [m] generally to ametabolous pupæ. [n] see spallanzani's tracts, by dalyell, vol. i. [o] ray, hist. insect., 254. [p] the fifth order of linnæus; insects with four transparent veined wings. [q] naturalist's calendar, p. 100. [r] introduction to entomology, vol. i. p. 435, 5th edit. [s] see p. 50. [t] shapeless. [u] the owl observed by vieillot in st. domingo digs itself a burrow two feet in depth, at the bottom of which it deposits its eggs upon a bed of moss. [v] american ornithology, by charles lucien bonaparte, vol. i. p. 69. [w] réaumur, vol. vi. bottom of page 182; hist. of selb. ii. 228; and introd. to entomol. i. 504, 5th edition. [x] in the mag. of nat. hist. 1839, p. 458, mr. shuckard gives an account of the nest of a wasp, which he regards as _vespa britannica_,--remarkable for the material of which it was constructed, and for the locality in which it was found. this nest, which was exhibited at a meeting of the entomological society, was found near croydon, built in a sparrow's nest, and attached to the lining feathers. "the smallness of the nest," says mr. shuckard, "and also of the tier of cells, as well as the peculiar material of which it appeared composed, led to a discussion, the tendency of which seemed to support the opinion that it was most probably the nest of a _polistes_, a social-wasp not yet found in this country, but if not of _polistes_, certainly not yet determined or known." the nest was ovate, about an inch and a half long, with a tier of cells internally, originating from a common pedicle. it appeared to be constructed "of the agglutinated particles of a soft white wood, probably willow, very imperfectly triturated;" whence it had externally a rough granulated appearance. it was sprinkled with black specks, arising perhaps from the intermixture of more decayed portions of the wood; and was of a very fragile texture. "the nature of the material, and its unfinished execution, as well as the situation in which it was found, appear to me to be its own peculiarities, and i must necessarily consider it merely an accidental variation in material and locality from the usual nests of the _vespa britannica_ of leach." [y] mémoires sur les insectes, tom. vi., mem. vii. see also bonnet vol. ix. [z] it is right to remark that huish and others have suggested that the grubs thus royalized may originally be misplaced queens; yet this admission is not necessary, since madlle. jurine has proved, by dissection, the workers to be imperfect females. [aa] huber on bees, p. 338. [ab] melisselogia, or female monarchy, 8vo., lond. 1744. [ac] de la pluche, spectacle de la nature, vol. i. [ad] philosophical trans. for 1792, p. 143. [ae] huber on bees. [af] american quarterly review for june, 1828, p. 382. [ag] latreille, mém. acad. des sciences, 1821. [ah] huber on bees, p. 325. [ai] from two greek words [greek: pro polis] meaning _before the city_, as the substance is principally applied to the projecting parts of the hive. [aj] phil. trans. for 1807, p. 242. [ak] schirach, hist. des abeilles, p. 241. [al] kirby and spence observed bees very busy in collecting propolis from the tacamahaca-tree (_populus balsamifera_).--introd., ii. 186. [am] huber on bees, p. 408. [an] philosophical trans. for 1807, p. 242. [ao] spectacle de la nature, tome i. [ap] huber on bees, p. 358. [aq] réaumur, vol. v., p. 380. [ar] huber on bees, p. 368. [as] huber on bees, p. 220. [at] memoirs of the wernerian nat. hist. soc., vol. ii. p. 260. [au] bevan on bees, p. 326. [av] huber on bees, p. 416. [aw] huber on bees, p. 391. [ax] from two greek words, signifying _pitch_ and _wax_. [ay] huber on bees, p. 415. [az] spectacle de la nature, vol. i. [ba] north american rev., oct. 1828, p. 355. [bb] "hibernia dives lactis ac _mellis_ insula."--beda, hist. eccles. i. 7. [bc] deut. xxxii. 13. [bd] psalm lxxxi. 16. [be] forbes, orien. mem. i. [bf] amer. q. rev., iii. p. 383. [bg] roy. mil. chron. quoted by kirby and spence. [bh] "cantu querulæ rumpent arbusta cicadæ."--georg. iii. 328. [bi] a line is about the twelfth part of an inch. [bj] introd., vol. i. p. 457. [bk] roesel, cl. ii., pap. nocturn., tab. xx. fig. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. [bl] see p. 100. [bm] contemplation de la nature, part xv. chap. 38. [bn] a cement prepared of volcanic earth, or lava. [bo] it is justly remarked by réaumur, that when caterpillars are left at liberty among their native plants, it is only by lucky chance they can be observed building their cocoons, because the greater number abandon the plants upon which they have been feeding, to spin up in places at some distance. in order to see their operations, they must be kept in confinement, particularly in boxes with glazed doors, where they may be always under the eye of the naturalist. in such circumstances, however, we may be ignorant what building materials we ought to provide them with for their structures. a red caterpillar, with a few tufts of hair, which réaumur found in july feeding upon the flower bunches of the nettle, and refusing to touch the leaves, began in a few days to prepare its cocoon, by gnawing the paper lid of the box in which it was placed. this, of course, was a material which it could not have procured in the fields, but it was the nearest in properties that it could procure; for, though it had the leaves and stems of nettles, it never used a single fragment of either. when réaumur found that it was likely to gnaw through the paper lid of the box, and might effect its escape, he furnished it with bits of rumpled paper, fixed to the lid by means of a pin; and these it chopped down into such pieces as it judged convenient for its structure, which it took a day to complete. the moth appeared four weeks after, of a brownish-black colour, mottled with white, or rather grey, in the manner of lace. bonnet also mentions more than one instance in which he observed caterpillars making use of paper, when they could not procure other materials. [bp] kirby, in 'linn. trans.,' vol. v. p. 246, and introd. ii. [bq] see fig. _d_, p. 238. [br] réaumur, 'mém. hist. insectes,' iii. 70. [bs] 'contemplation de la nature,' part xii. chap. x. note. [bt] 'animal biography,' vol. iii. p. 330, third edition. [bu] bonnet, xi. p. 204; kirby and spence, 'introduction,' i. 464, fifth edition. [bv] bonnet, vol. ix. p. 203. [bw] 'mém. hist. insect.' iii. p. 106. [bx] réaumur, iii. p. 130. [by] bonnet, 'contempl. de la nature,' part xii. [bz] swammerd., 'book of nature,' vol. ii. p. 84. [ca] 'contempl. de la nature,' part xii. p. 197. [cb] bonnet, 'observ. sur les insectes,' vol. ii. p. 425. [cc] dict. classique d'hist. nat. art. grillon. [cd] natural history of selborne, ii. 82. [ce] entomologie, par r. a. e. 18mo., paris, 1826, p. 168. [cf] natural history of selborne. [cg] act. acad. berolin. 1752, et gleditsch, phys. botan., quoted by kirby and spence, ii. 353. [ch] moufet, 153. kirby and spence, ii. 350. [ci] journal of a naturalist, p. 311. [cj] bingley, anim. biog., vol. iii, p. 230. [ck] phil. trans., vol. xliv. p. 579. [cl] anim. biog., vol. iii. p. 233. [cm] anderson's recr. in agricult., vol. iii. p. 420. [cn] hints, p. 74. [co] journal of a naturalist, p. 304. [cp] a line is the twelfth part of the old french inch. _see_ companion to the almanac for 1830, p. 114. [cq] m. p. huber on ants, p. 20. [cr] stedman's surinam, vol. i. p. 160. [cs] m. p. huber on ants, p. 23. [ct] latreille, hist. nat. des fourmis. [cu] dr. cleghorn, thesis de somno. [cv] aristotle hist. animal. ix. 38. pliny says, "operantur et noctu plenâ lunâ; eadem interlunio cessant," _i.e._, they work in the night at full moon, but they leave off between moon and moon. it is the latter that we think doubtful. [cw] m. p. huber on ants, p. 31. [cx] huber on ants, p. 43. [cy] in formicâ non modo sensus, sed etiam mens, ratio, memoria. [cz] aldrovandus de formicis, and johnston, thaumaturg. nat. p. 356. [da] see professor paxton's illustrations of scripture, i. 307. [db] huber on ants, p. 15. [dc] huber on ants, p. 11. [dd] huber, p. 56. [de] the acid of ants. [df] huber. [dg] hawkesworth's account of cook's first voyage. [dh] phil. trans., xxx. p. 346. [di] jobson's gambia, in purchas's pilgrim, ii. p. 1570. [dj] heber's journal, vol. i. p. 248. [dk] smeathman, in phil. trans., vol. lxxi. [dl] smeathman. [dm] quoted by de geer, vol. vii. [dn] hist. nat. générale, vol. xiii. p. 66. [do] smeathman, in phil. trans., vol. lxxi. p. 169, note. [dp] latreille, hist. nat. générale, tom. xiii. p. 64. [dq] lyonnet. [dr] spectacle de la nature, vol. i. [ds] cours d'agriculture, par m. rozier. paris, 1801. [dt] this is denied by recent observers. [du] spectacle de la nature, vol. i. [dv] count dandolo's art of rearing silk-worms, eng. transl., p. 215. [dw] on a tort de croire que le bruit nuise à ces insectes, hist. nat. générale, vol. xiii. p. 170. [dx] shaw's gen. zoology, vol. vi. [dy] north american review, oct. 1828, p. 449. [dz] essay on the silk-worm, p. 95. london, 1719. [ea] preface to dandolo on the silk-worm, eng. transl., p. xiii. [eb] glover's directory of the county of derby, introd., p. xvi. [ec] memecken, quoted by kirby and spence, iii. 280. [ed] brahm's ins. nat. 289, and kirby and spence's intr. iii, 223. [ee] de geer, mém. i. 319. [ef] curtis, hist. of brown-tail moth, 4to. london, 1782. [eg] réaumur, ii. p. 137. [eh] salisbury, hints on orchards, p. 53. [ei] hardy's travels in the interior of mexico, p. 32. [ej] hill's swammerdam, part i. p. 23. [ek] swammerdam, part i. p. 24. [el] intr., vol. i. p. 415. [em] kirby and spence, vol. i. intr. p. 416. [en] porcupines do not shoot out their quills, as was once generally believed. [eo] lister, hist. animalia angliæ, 4to. p. 7. [ep] phil. mag., ii. p. 275. [eq] vol. i. intr., p. 417. [er] phil. mag.,, ii. p. 339. [es] nat. hist. of selborne, vol. i. p. 327. [et] book of nature, part i. p. 25. [eu] hist. anim. angliæ, 4to. [ev] mémoires, vol. vii. p. 189. [ew] spectacle de la nature, vol. i. [ex] book of nature, part i. p. 25. [ey] animal biography, vol. iii. p. 475, 3rd edition. [ez] brez, flore des insectophiles. notes, supp. p. 134. [fa] thomson's ann. of philosophy, vol. iii. p. 306. [fb] loudon's mag. of nat. hist., vol. i. p. 322. [fc] experim. researches in nat. hist., p. 136. [fd] mag. nat. hist., vol. i. p. 324. [fe] linn. trans., vol. xv. p. 456. [ff] mag. nat. hist., vol. ii. p. 397. [fg] linn. trans., vol. xv. p. 453. [fh] "----l'un des bouts de ces premiers fils, afin que le vent ou un courant d'air pousse l'autre extrémité de l'un d'eux au de là de l'obstacle."--dict. classique d'hist. nat., vol. i. p. 510. [fi] evelyn's travels in italy. [fj] book of nature, part i. p. 24. [fk] bloomfield's remains, vol. ii. p. 64, _note_. [fl] animal biography, iii. 470-1. [fm] mém. de l'acad. des sciences pour 1707, p. 339. [fn] kirby and spence, intr. i. 419. [fo] darwin's zoonomia, i. 253, 8vo. ed. [fp] mém. soc. d'hist. nat. de paris, an. vii. [fq] mém. soc. d'hist. nat. de paris, p. 125, and latreille, hist. nat. géuér. viii. p. 163. [fr] kirby and spence, intr. i. 425. [fs] aranei suecici, stockholm, 1757. [ft] mém. des araign. aquat., 12mo. paris, 1799. [fu] clerck, aranei suecici, cap. viii. [fv] de geer, mém. des insectes, vii. 312. [fw] spectacle de la nature, i. 58. [fx] linn. trans. vol. xv. [fy] spectacle de la nature, i. p. 61. [fz] remains, ii. 62-5. it is a remarkable fact, as recorded from personal observation by mr. bell (british reptiles), that the toad swallows the cuticle detached from its body during the moult which it undergoes. [ga] spectacle de la nature, i. 119. [gb] introduction, ii. 449. [gc] hist. des moeurs et de l'instinct, vol. ii. [gd] entomologie, par r. a. e., p. 242. paris, 1826. [ge] elements of the philosophy of plants, eng. trans., p. 285. [gf] flore franç. disc. préliminaire. [gg] réaumur, vol. iii. [gh] in order to prevent ambiguity, it is necessary to remark that the excrescences thus called must not be confounded with the true galls, which are occasionally found in the gall-bladder. [gi] réaumur, mém. iv. 505. [gj] mém. iv. 538. [gk] est lucos silari circa ilicibusque virentem plurimus alburnum volitans, cui nomen asilo romanum est, oestrum graii vertere vocantes, asper, acerba sonans; quo tota exterrita silvis diffugiunt armenta; furit mugitibus æther concussus, sylvæque et sicci ripa tanagri. _georg._ lib. iii. 146. [gl] linnæus, lachesis lapponica, july 19th. [gm] linnæus, flora lapponica, p. 378, ed. lond. 1792. [gn] kirby and spence, introd. i. 151. [go] kirby and spence, p. 149. [gp] these circumstances afford, we think, a complete answer to the query of kirby and spence--"there can be little doubt (or else what is the use of such an apparatus?) that it bores a hole in the skin."--introd. i. 162, 2nd edit. [gq] linn. trans. iii. 305. [gr] linn. trans. iii. 305. [gs] mém. iv. 540. [gt] réaumur, iv. 549. [gu] bruce's travels, i. 5, and v. 191. transcriber's note the unmatched opening quote on page 12 was assumed to be a typographical error and removed. where a sequential series of paragraphs have an opening bracket without a closing one, these were standardized to one opening and one closing bracket for the whole section. one opening bracket missing on page 38 was assumed to belong at the start of last line of that paragraph. the closing quote from the second paragraph on page 47 was added. an internet search confirmed this location. where the footnotes originally stated "ibid.", the source of the previous footnote was inserted. dover books on birds audubon's birds of america coloring book, john james audubon. (23049-x) $1.50 roseate spoonbill, robert porter allen. (21566-0) $2.50 bird study, andrew j. berger. (22699-9) $4.00 bird song and bird behavior, donald j. borror. (22779-0) record and manual $3.50 common bird songs, donald j. borror. (21829-5) record and manual $4.00 songs of eastern birds, donald j. borror. (22378-7) record and album $3.50 songs of western birds, donald j. borror. (22765-0) record and album $3.50 bird of the new york area, john bull. (23222-0) $6.00 what bird is this?, henry h. collins, jr. (21490-7) $2.00 hawks, owls and wildlife, john j. craighead and frank c. craighead, jr. (22123-7) $5.00 cruickshank's photographs of birds of america, allan d. cruickshank. (23497-5) $6.00 1001 questions answered about birds, allan cruickshank and helen cruickshank. (23315-4) $3.50 birds of the pacific northwest, ira n. gabrielson and stanley g. jewett. (22346-9) $7.95 birds of the south, charlotte hilton green. (21234-3) $3.50 extinct and vanishing birds of the world, james c. greenway, jr. (21869-4) $5.00 bird migration, donald r. griffin. (20529-0) $2.75 a guide to bird watching, joseph j. hickey. (21596-2) $3.00 north american bird eggs, chester a. reed. (21361-7) $5.00 bird studies at old cape may, witmer stone. (21386-2, 21387-0) two-volume set $9.00 american bird engravings from "american ornithology," alexander wilson. (23195-x) $6.00 _life histories of_ north american shore birds _life histories of_ north american shore birds by arthur cleveland bent in two parts part i dover publications, inc. new york published in canada by general publishing company, ltd., 30 lesmill road, don mills, toronto, ontario. published in the united kingdom by constable and company, ltd., 10 orange street, london wc 2. this dover edition, first published in 1962, is an unabridged and unaltered republication of the work originally published by the united states government printing office. part i was originally published in 1927 as smithsonian institution united states national museum _bulletin 142_; part ii was originally published in 1929 as smithsonian institution united states national museum _bulletin 146_. _international standard book number: 0-486-20933-4_ _library of congress catalog card number: 62-51562_ manufactured in the united states of america dover publications, inc. 180 varick street new york, n. y. 10014 advertisement the scientific publications of the national museum include two series, known, respectively, as _proceedings_ and _bulletin_. the _proceedings_, begun in 1878, is intended primarily as a medium for the publication of original papers, based on the collections of the national museum, that set forth newly acquired facts in biology, anthropology, and geology, with descriptions of new forms and revisions of limited groups. copies of each paper, in pamphlet form, are distributed as published to libraries and scientific organizations and to specialists and others interested in the different subjects. the dates at which these separate papers are published are recorded in the table of contents of each of the volumes. the _bulletin_, the first of which was issued in 1875, consists of a series of separate publications comprising monographs of large zoological groups and other general systematic treatises (occasionally in several volumes), faunal works, reports of expeditions, catalogues of type-specimens, special collections, and other material of similar nature. the majority of the volumes are octavo in size, but a quarto size has been adopted in a few instances in which large plates were regarded as indispensable. in the _bulletin_ series appear volumes under the heading _contributions from the united states national herbarium_, in octavo form, published by the national museum since 1902, which contain papers relating to the botanical collections of the museum. the present work forms no. 142 of the _bulletin_ series. alexander wetmore, _assistant secretary, smithsonian institution_. washington, d. c., _november 15, 1927_. table of contents page order limicolae 1 family phalaropodidae 1 phalaropus fulicarius 1 red phalarope 1 habits 1 distribution 14 lobipes lobatus 15 northern phalarope 15 habits 15 distribution 26 steganopus tricolor 28 wilson phalarope 28 habits 28 distribution 35 family recurvirostridae 37 recurvirostra americana 37 american avocet 37 habits 37 distribution 44 himantopus mexicanus 47 black-necked stilt 47 habits 47 distribution 53 family scolopacidae 54 scolopax rusticola 54 european woodcock 54 habits 54 distribution 60 rubicola minor 61 american woodcock 61 habits 61 distribution 75 capella gallinago gallinago 78 european snipe 78 habits 78 distribution 81 capella gallinago delicata 81 wilson snipe 81 habits 81 distribution 94 capella media 98 great snipe 98 habits 98 distribution 101 lymnocryptes minimus 101 jack snipe 101 habits 101 distribution 105 limnodromus griseus griseus 106 eastern dowitcher 106 habits 106 distribution 113 limnodromus griseus scolopaceus 115 long-billed dowitcher 115 habits 115 distribution 121 micropalama himantopus 122 stilt sandpiper 122 habits 122 distribution 129 calidris canutus rufus 131 american knot 131 habits 131 distribution 143 calidris tenuirostris 145 eastern asiatic knot 145 arquatella maritima 146 purple sandpiper 146 habits 146 distribution 151 arquatella ptilocnemis ptilocnemis 152 pribilof sandpiper 152 habits 152 distribution 158 arquatella ptilocnemis couesi 159 aleutian sandpiper 159 habits 159 distribution 166 pisobia acuminata 167 sharp-tailed sandpiper 167 habits 167 distribution 169 pisobia maculata 169 pectoral sandpiper 169 habits 169 distribution 177 pisobia fuscicollis 181 white-rumped sandpiper 181 habits 181 distribution 191 pisobia bairdi 193 baird sandpiper 193 habits 193 distribution 199 pisobia minutilla 202 least sandpiper 202 habits 202 distribution 209 pisobia subminuta 213 long-toed stint 213 habits 213 distribution 214 pisobia ruficollis 215 rufous-necked sandpiper 215 habits 215 distribution 217 pelidna alpina alpina 217 dunlin 217 habits 217 distribution 220 pelidna alpina sakhalina 221 red-backed sandpiper 221 habits 221 distribution 229 erolia ferruginea 232 curlew sandpiper 232 habits 232 distribution 236 eurynorhynchus pygmeus 237 spoonbill sandpiper 237 habits 237 distribution 243 ereunetes pusillus 244 semipalmated sandpiper 244 habits 244 distribution 252 ereunetes mauri 255 western sandpiper 255 habits 255 distribution 263 crocethia alba 265 sanderling 265 habits 265 distribution 274 limosa fedoa 277 marbled godwit 277 habits 277 distribution 287 limosa lapponica baueri 289 pacific godwit 289 habits 289 distribution 294 limosa haemastica 295 hudsonian godwit 295 habits 295 distribution 302 limosa limosa limosa 304 black-tailed godwit 304 habits 304 distribution 308 glottis nebularia 309 greenshank 309 habits 309 distribution 313 totanus totanus 315 redshank 315 habits 315 distribution 319 totanus melanoleucus 321 greater yellow-legs 321 habits 321 distribution 332 totanus flavipes 336 lesser yellow-legs 336 habits 336 distribution 346 references to bibliography 350 explanation of plates 360 index 415 introduction this is the seventh in a series of bulletins of the united states national museum on the life histories of north american birds. previous numbers have been issued as follows: 107. life histories of north american diving birds, august 1, 1919. 113. life histories of north american gulls and terns, august 27, 1921. 121. life histories of north american petrels, pelicans and their allies, october 19, 1922. 126. life histories of north american wild fowl, may 25, 1923. 130. life histories of north american wild fowl, june 27, 1925. 135. life histories of north american marsh birds, "1926." (= march 11, 1927). the same general plan has been followed, as explained in previous bulletins, and the same sources of information have been utilized. the classification and nomenclature adopted by the american ornithologists' union, in its latest check list and its supplements, have been followed, mainly, with such few changes as, in the author's opinion, will be, or should be, made to bring the work up to date, and in line with recent advances in the science. the main ranges are as accurately outlined as limited space will permit; the normal migrations are given in sufficient detail to indicate the usual movements of the species; no attempt has been made to give all records, for economy in space, and no pretense at complete perfection is claimed. many published records, often repeated, have been investigated and discarded; many apparently doubtful records have been verified; some published records, impossible to either verify or disprove, have been accepted if the evidence seemed to warrant it. the egg dates are the condensed results of a mass of records taken from the data in a large number of the best egg collections in the country, as well as from contributed field notes and from a few published sources. they indicate the dates on which eggs have been actually found in various parts of the country, showing the earliest and latest dates and the limits between which half the dates fall, the height of the season. the plumages are described only in enough detail to enable the reader to trace the sequence of molts and plumages from birth to maturity and to recognize the birds in the different stages and at the different seasons. no attempt has been made to fully describe adult plumages; this has been already well done in the many manuals. the names of colors, when in quotation marks, are taken from ridgway's color standards and nomenclature (1912) and the terms used to describe the shapes of eggs are taken from his nomenclature of colors (1886 edition). the heavy-faced type in the measurements of eggs indicates the four extremes of measurements. many of those who contributed material for former volumes have rendered a similar service in this case. in addition to those whose contributions have been acknowledged previously, our thanks are due to the following new contributors: photographs, notes, or data have been contributed by w. b. alexander, clark blickensderfer, c. e. chapman, karl christofferson, c. w. colthrup, walter colvin, w. m. congreve, joseph dixon, j. g. gordon, s. a. grimes, w. c. herman, frank howland, w. i. lyon, t. r. miley, d. j. nicholson, r. h. rauch, russell richardson, jr., w. a. smith, j. d. soper, e. s. thomas, m. b. trautman, c. f. walker, f. m. weston, h. f. witherby, a. h. wood, jr., and c. j. young. receipt of material from over 250 contributors has been acknowledged in previous volumes. through the courtesy of the biological survey, the services of frederick c. lincoln were secured to compile the distribution paragraphs. with the matchless reference files of the biological survey at his disposal and with some advice and help from dr. harry c. oberholser, his many hours of careful and thorough work have produced results far more satisfactory than could have been attained by the author, who claims no credit and assumes no responsibility for this part of the work. the few minor changes made in the system do not materially alter the general plan. dr. charles w. townsend has written the life histories of two species and the rev. francis c. r. jourdain, a well-known british authority, has contributed the life histories and the distributions of six old world species, which are known to us only as rare stragglers. mr. j. h. riley has furnished descriptions and measurements of some rare eggs in the national museum. we are indebted to mr. h. f. witherby for the loan of the valuable photographs of the knot, taken by admiral peary, which the author publishes at his own risk, without permission. as most of the shore birds are known to us mainly, or entirely, as migrants it has seemed desirable to describe their migrations quite fully. as it is a well-known fact that many, if not all, immature and nonbreeding shore birds remain far south of their breeding ranges all summer it has not seemed necessary to mention this in each case. nor did it seem necessary to say that only one brood is raised in a season, as this is a nearly universal rule with all water birds. the manuscript for this volume was completed in march, 1927. contributions received since then will be acknowledged later. only information of great importance could be added. when this volume appears contributions of photographs or notes relating to the gallinaceous birds should be sent to the author. _life histories of_ north american shore birds life histories of north american shore birds order limicolae (part 1) by arthur cleveland bent _of taunton, massachusetts_ family phalaropodidae, phalaropes phalaropus fulicarius (linnaeus) red phalarope habits the female red phalarope in her full nuptial plumage is, to my mind, the handsomest, certainly the most richly colored, of the three known species of phalaropes. the species is cosmopolitan, with a circumpolar breeding range; it is apparently homogeneous throughout its wide range except for a local race, breeding in spitsbergen, which has been separated and named _phalaropus fulicarius jourdaini_ iredale; this race is said to have paler edgings on the back, scapulars, and tertials. the species is commonly known abroad as the grey phalarope, an appropriate name for the bird in its winter plumage, in which it is most often seen. it is less often seen in the united states than the other two species; its summer home is so far north that it is beyond the reach of most of us; and at other seasons it is much more pelagic than the other species, migrating and apparently spending the winter far out on the open sea, often a hundred miles or more from land. it seldom comes ashore on the mainland except when driven in by thick weather or a severe storm. hence it is an apparently rare bird to most of us. but in its arctic summer home it is exceedingly abundant. alfred m. bailey (1925) says that "this was the most abundant of the shore birds at wales, as at wainwright, alaska. as a person walks over the tundra there is a continual string of those handsome birds rising from the grass." again he writes: at whalen, near east cape, siberia, we saw thousands of these beautiful little fellows on july 11. the day was very disagreeable, with a strong wind off the ice and a drizzling rain. from the ship we could see waves of birds rising some distance off in such dense flocks that individuals could not be distinguished; the mass looked like a long, thin cloud swirling before the wind; one end of the line rose high in the air, while the other end swerved nearer to the water. they swung about with the erratic movements and wave-like flight so characteristic of black skimmers, now high in the air, again low over the water. as we worked along the shore, thousands that were feeding close along the beach rose and flew across the sand spit in front of us. there was a continual stream of them drifting by, like so much sand before a strong wind. they were, at this time, beginning to molt their breeding plumage. _spring._--the migrations of the red phalarope are mainly at sea, usually far out from land. during the month of may enormous flocks may be seen on the ocean off the coasts of new england, but it is only during stress of weather that they are driven inshore. i can well remember a big storm, on may 21, 1892, which brought a large flight of these birds into cape cod bay; nat gould killed a large number that day on monomoy island and i shot one at plymouth beach; others were taken at provincetown. in pleasant weather these birds are well at home on the heaving bosom of the ocean, flying about in flocks, twisting, turning, and wheeling like flocks of sandpipers, or resting or feeding on the drifting rafts of seaweeds. on the pacific coast these birds are even more abundant, if one goes far enough offshore to see them during april and may. they often congregate in considerable numbers about the farallon islands. w. leon dawson (1923) has drawn a graphic picture of them there, as follows: here in late spring thousands of these birds ride at anchor in the lee of the main island, along with other thousands of the other northern species, _lobipes lobatus_. of these some few scores are driven ashore by hunger and seek their sustenance in brackish pools, or else battle with the breakers in the little "bight" of the rocky lee shore. the date is may 23, and the company under survey numbers a few brilliant red birds in high plumage among the scores in unchanged gray, together with others exhibiting every intermediate gradation. when to this variety is added a similar diversity among the northerns, which mingle indiscriminately with them, you have a motley company--no two birds alike. ho! but these are agile surfmen! never, save in the case of the wandering tattler and the american dipper, have i seen such absolute disregard of danger and such instant adjustment to watery circumstance. here are 30 of these phalaropes "fine mixed," threading a narrow passage in the reefs where danger threatens in the minutest fraction of a second. crash! comes a comber. our little world is obliterated in foam. sea anemones and rock oysters sputter and choke, and there is a fine fury of readjustment. but the phalaropes rise automatically, clear the crest of the crasher, and are down again, preening their feathers or snatching dainties with the utmost unconcern. now a bird is left stranded on a reef, or now he is whisked and whirled a dozen feet away. all right, if he likes it; but if not, he is back again, automatically, at the old rendezvous. life goes on right merrily in spite of these shocking interruptions. food getting is the main business, and this is pursued with extraordinary ardor. the bird's tiny feet kick the water violently, and there is the tiniest compensatory bob for every stroke, so that their little bodies seem all a tremble. there seems to be no difference of opinion between the two species, but there is time for a good deal of amatory play between the sexes of the reds. it is always the bright-colored female who makes the advances, for the wanton phalaropes have revised nature's order, and the modest male either seeks escape by flight, or else defends himself with determined dabs. here is the authentic lady for whom shakespeare's "pilgrim" sighed. of their arrival on their breeding grounds in northern alaska, e. w. nelson (1887) writes: it is much more gregarious than its relative, and for a week or two after its first arrival 50 or more flock together. these flocks were very numerous the 1st of june, 1879, at the yukon mouth, where i had an excellent opportunity to observe them. in the morning the birds which were paired could be found scattered here and there, by twos, over the slightly flooded grassy flats. at times these pairs would rise and fly a short distance, the female, easily known by her bright colors and larger size, in advance, and uttering now and then a low and musical "clink, clink," sounding very much like the noise made by lightly tapping together two small bars of steel. when disturbed these notes were repeated oftener and became harder and louder. a little later in the day, as their hunger became satisfied, they began to unite into parties until 15 or 20 birds would rise and pursue an erratic course over the flat. as they passed swiftly along stray individuals and pairs might be seen to spring up and join the flock. other flocks would rise and the smaller coalesce with the larger until from two hundred to three or even four hundred birds were gathered in a single flock. as the size of the flock increased its movements became more and more irregular. at one moment they would glide straight along the ground, then change to a wayward flight, back and forth, twisting about with such rapidity that it was difficult to follow them with the eye. suddenly their course would change, and the compact flock, as if animated by a single impulse, would rise high over head, and, after a series of graceful and swift evolutions, come sweeping down with a loud, rushing sound to resume their playful course near the ground. during all their motions the entire flock moves in such unison that the alternate flashing of the underside of their wings and the dark color of the back, like the play of light and shade, makes a beautiful spectacle. when wearied of their sport the flock disbands and the birds again resume their feeding. _courtship._--the well-known reversal of sexual characters in the phalaropes makes their courtship particularly interesting, as the large, handsome females press their ardent suits against the timid and dull-colored little males. a. l. v. manniche (1910) has given us the best account of it, as follows: june 19, 1907, early in the morning, i had the pleasure of watching for hours the actions of a loving couple of phalaropes on the beach of a pool surrounded by large sedge tufts, covered with long, withered grass. this act i found very funny, peculiar, and charming. when the male had been eagerly searching for food for some 20 minutes, often standing on his head in the water, like a duck, to fish or pick up something from the bottom, he would lie down on a tuft, stretching out his one leg and his one wing as if he would fully enjoy the rest after his exertions. the female for some moments was lying quietly and mutely in the middle of the pool; suddenly she began with increasing rapidity to whirl around on the surface of the water, always in the same little circle, the diameter of which was some 10 centimeters. as the male seemed to pay no attention to her alluring movements, she flew rapidly up to him--producing as she left the water a peculiar whirling sound with her wings and uttering short angry cries--pushed him with her bill, and then she returned to the water and took up her swimming dance. now the male came out to her, and the two birds whirled around for some moments equally eager and with increasing rapidity. uttering a short call, the female again flew to a tuft surrounded by water and waited some seconds in vain for the male; again she flew to the water to induce him with eager pushes and thumps to accompany her. they again whirled violently around, whereafter she, uttering a strong, alluring sound, flew back to the tuft, this time accompanied by the male--and the pairing immediately took place. in the matrimony of the grey phalarope the female only decides. she exceeds the male in size and brilliancy of plumage and has the decisive power in all family affairs. if she wants to shift her place of residence she flies up swift as an arrow with a commanding cry--which may be expressed as "_pittss_"--and if the male does not follow her at once she will immediately return and give him a severe punishment, which never fails to have the desired effect. it is a well-known fact that she completely ignores her eggs and young ones. _nesting._--the same author describes the nesting habits of this species, in northeast greenland, as follows: it is peculiar, that the male has well-marked breeding spots before the breeding begins and certainly before the female has laid her first egg; but this fact has been proved by several solid examinations. june 26, 1907, i observed on the beach of the bjergandeso in the stormkap district, that the nest building was executed by the male. he was busy in building the nest on a low bank covered with short grass, while she paid no attention to his labor, but swam around the beach searching food. the male shaped a nest hollow by turning round his body against the ground on the place selected, having first by aid of the feet scraped away and trampled down the longest and most troublesome straws. he diligently used feet and bill at the same time to arrange the shorter fine straws, which are carefully bent into the nest hollow and form the lining of this. the nest was much smaller than that of _tringa alpina_ and contained one egg the next day. along the beaches of a smaller lake not far from the ship's harbor i saw, june 30, three solitary swimming males, at least one of which showed signs of having a nest. i soon found this close to the place of residence of the male in question. the nest contained four fresh eggs and was built in exactly the same way as the before-mentioned nest. the male proved so far from being shy, that he could be driven to his nest and merely be caught by hand; having laid himself upon the nest he was still more fearless. a breeding phalarope will lie motionless with his head pressed deep down against his back. he is almost fully covered by straws, which surround the nest, as he with the bill bends these over himself, besides he is so similar to the surroundings that no human eye is able to distinguish him from these, if the spot is not known beforehand. july 9, 1907, i again found a phalarope's nest by the bjergandeso; it contained four fresh eggs and was built a little differently from the two before-mentioned nests. these were found close to a lake on low banks covered with short grass, but this one was built on a tuft covered with long, withered grass, situated some 10 meters from the real lake, but surrounded by shallow water, that came from a little river running out from the lake and irrigating all the tufts, one of which contained the nest. this bird also kept very close on the nest, and did not leave it before i parted the long grass with my foot. when frightened up from the nest the bird for a short while lay screaming and flapping on the water not far from me; thereupon he flew away, silently and rapidly, to land on the opposite side of the lake. having been absent for some five minutes he returned just as rapidly, flew a good way to the other side of the nest, sat down, and kept quiet for a couple of minutes, whereafter he again flew up and took the earth some 20 meters from the nest, which he then rapidly approached walking and swimming hidden by aquatic plants and tufts. all this was done in order to mislead me, who was lying some 15 meters from the nest without any shelter and therefore seen by the bird all the while. c. w. g. eifrig (1905) found the red phalarope breeding very commonly around cape fullerton and southampton island, hudson bay. "they nest around fresh water ponds, laying their eggs, without nesting material, in depressions in the sand or moss, often in lichens." john murdoch (1885), on the other hand, says, at point barrow, alaska, that- the nest is always in the grass, never in the black or mossy portions of the tundra, and usually in a pretty wet situation, though a nest was occasionally found high and dry, in a place where the nest of the pectoral sandpiper would be looked for. a favorite nesting site was a narrow grassy isthmus between two of the shallow ponds. the nest is a very slight affair of dried grass and always well concealed. in the kotzebue sound region joseph grinnell (1900) found three nests, of which he says: the nests were all on higher ground and at a distance of 100 yards or more from the lagoons where the birds usually congregated for feeding and social purposes. the three nests agreed in situation, being rather deep depressions sunk into the tops of mossy hummocks. there was a thin lining of dry grasses, and in one case the drooping blades from an adjoining clump of grass partially concealed the nest from view from above. miss maud d. haviland (1915) relates her experience with the nesting habits of this species, at the mouth of the yenesei river, siberia, as follows: i found the first nest on golchika island early in july. my attention was called to it by the male bird, which flew round uneasily. even when the nesting ground is invaded, this phalarope is very quiet and not very demonstrative. he flits round the intruder with a peculiar silent flight, rather like a big red moth, while he utters his chirruping alarm note--"_zhit zhit_." this call is shriller than that of _phalaropus lobatus_, and quite recognizable where the two species breed side by side. i sat down on a log of driftwood, and in about half an hour was able to flush the bird from four fresh eggs. this nest, however, was not placed very well for photography, for about 50 yards away was a turf hut, which a russian family had just taken possession of for the summer, and i dared not leave the hiding tent or apparatus near the spot. on the following day i was more fortunate, and found a nest which was also on the island but about half a verst away. it was in rather a dryer situation than the last, but like all the nests of this species that i saw, the eggs lay on quite a substantial platform of dead grass. in other cases the sites were so wet that the bird must have been sitting actually in water--and the photographer would have had to do likewise! in the photograph, the grass has been parted in order to show the eggs, but before this was done they were screened as carefully as the eggs of a redshank or reeve. i pitched the tent at once, and went in to hide. the male phalarope stood on a tussock about 20 yards away and watched attentively, i should not thus have tackled the nest of any other wader, but i relied upon the confidence and simplicity of the phalarope, and i did not rely upon them in vain. in about 20 minutes i caught sight of the bird creeping round the tent, and a few minutes later he settled down upon the eggs. in this, my first glimpse of a grey phalarope at close quarters, two points struck me forcibly. one was the apparent extraordinary length of the bird. the single pair of legs in the middle seemed quite insufficient to support so long a body, and with his quaint perky gait, it seemed as if the bird swayed to and fro upon cee springs as he walked. the other was the peculiar harmony of the color of the mantle with the grass around, bleached or blackened by snow and thaw. the long, bladelike form of the secondary feathers, and the buff longitudinal shoulder bands seemed to emphasize the scheme until the bird was almost indistinguishable from his surroundings. herbert w. brandt in his manuscript notes says: the nest of the red phalarope is built either on dry ground or over shallow grass-grown water and is well concealed. leading away from it usually are one or more runways which are either tunneled or open. the nest is fragile and very loosely made. the interior is moulded into a cup shape and the structure is made of grasses and often lined with moss stems, small leaves of the dwarf birch, cranberry, and other small, crisp leaves found there. frequently, however, a simple depression in the moss or grass suffices to serve for the nursery. the range of measurements of 18 nests is: height 3 to 5 inches; inside diameter 2-1/2 to 3-1/2 inches; depth of cavity, 2-1/2 to 3 inches; but the nest is sometimes built up higher and is more substantial if placed directly over water. in fact, this little coot-footed bird sometimes builds a miniature cootlike nest. the male alone was noted building the nest, and he usually incubates, but on two occasions the female was observed on the eggs. the incubating bird is not a close sitter and departs from the nest long before the intruder arrives. in that jaeger-haunted land when the male phalarope returns to the nest he weaves so stealthily through the grass that it is almost impossible to follow his devious course so that two or three rapid charges are necessary by the watcher toward the supposed location of the nest before the incubating bird can finally be forced to rise directly from its eggs. _eggs._--the red phalarope ordinarily lays four eggs, though three sometimes constitute a full set, and as many as six have been found in a nest, probably laid by two birds. they vary in shape from ovate pyriform to subpyriform and have a slight gloss. the prevailing ground colors range from "pale olive buff" to "dark olive buff"; in the darker sets they vary from "ecru olive" to "isabella color"; in a few sets there is a greenish tinge approaching "light brownish olive". the markings are bold, sharply defined and irregular in shape; they are most numerous and often confluent at the larger end; but some eggs are finely speckled over the entire surface. the prevailing colors of the markings are dark browns, from "warm sepia" or "vandyke brown" to "bone brown" or "clove brown." some eggs are marked with lighter or brighter browns, "hazel," "russet," or even "tawny." the drab under markings are hardly noticeable. the measurements of 148 eggs in the united states national museum average 31.5 by 22 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =35= by 22, 32 by =23= and =27.5= by =20.5= millimeters. _young._--authorities differ as to the period of incubation, which does not seem to have been definitely determined by anyone. mr. conover writes to me that "a nest located june 10, with three eggs, hatched on june 29." incubation is performed almost wholly by the male, but mr. brandt (mss.) says: "the female, however, is, of course, the dominant member of the household, but she occasionally shares the cares of incubation, as i proved by collecting one from the nest; while later in the year i was successful in photographing a mother with a single chick. perhaps it was a favorite child which she was taking for a walk while the father was mothering the rest of the family." most observers agree that the male assumes full care of the young also; but miss haviland (1915) says: "it seems as if both male and female unite to care for the young, and when the breeding ground is approached they fly around and call anxiously." probably the gaily dressed female is a poor mother at best and prefers to join the large flocks of her sex on the tundra pools. _plumages._--the downy young red phalarope is the handsomest of its group, darker and more richly colored, as well as larger than the young northern phalarope. the upper parts show various shades of deep, warm brownish buff, darkest, "sudan brown," on the crown, paling to "raw sienna," on the sides of the head, occiput, neck, thighs, and rump, and to "yellow ocher" on the rest of the upper parts; these colors shade off into "antimony yellow" or "warm buff" on the throat and breast and to buffy white on the belly; the down of the upper parts is tipped with black, except on the yellow ocher parts, and is basally dusky. it is boldly marked above with clear, velvety black; there is a large black patch back of the central crown patch of brown and a diminishing black stripe on each side of it; a narrow black stripe runs from the hill, over the eye, to the auriculars; another runs across the hind neck; a broad, but more or less broken and irregular, black stripe extends down the center of the back and a similar stripe down each side of it; there is also a large well-defined black patch on each side of the rump, above the thigh. in fresh juvenal plumage, in august, the feathers of the crown, mantle, and scapulars are black, broadly edged with "ochraceous tawny"; the tertials, median wing coverts, upper tail coverts, and tail feathers are narrowly edged with paler shades of buff; the lesser wing coverts are narrowly edged with white; the forehead, lores, neck all around, upper breast, and flanks are suffused with grayish brown, varying from "fawn color" or "wood brown," on the throat, neck, and breast, to "vinaceous buff" on the head and flanks; the rest of the under parts are pure white. the sexes are alike in juvenal and winter plumages. the tawny edgings of the upper plumage soon fade and wear away before the postjuvenal molt begins during august. i have seen birds in full juvenal plumage as late as september 15; the molt is usually not completed until late in october, but i have seen it well advanced by the middle of august. this molt includes nearly all of the contour plumage, but not the wings and tail, so that first-winter birds can be distinguished from adults by the juvenal wing coverts and tail. the first prenuptial molt occurs mainly in april and may; it is sometimes completed by the last week in may, but more often not until early june; i have seen the full first-winter plumage retained until may 21. this molt involves the entire contour plumage, some wing coverts, and the tail; so that young birds in first nuptial plumage closely resemble adults and can be distinguished only by the presence of some old juvenal wing coverts. the sexes are quite unlike in this plumage and are probably ready to breed. certain females, in which the black crown and white cheek patches are obscured with buff and rufous tints, but are otherwise in full plumage, are perhaps young birds. at the following molt, the first postnuptial, the adult winter plumage is acquired, characterized by the bluish-gray mantle and the white under parts. this molt is complete; it begins in july and is sometimes completed in august, but more often it is prolonged into september or later. adults have a partial molt in the spring, from march to may, involving the contour feathers, the tail, some of the tertials, and some of the wing coverts; the remiges are not molted, and some of the old scapulars are retained. the adult postnuptial molt, from july to december, is complete. _food._--during the month or so that they are on their northern breeding grounds the red phalaropes are shore birds, feeding in the tundra pools or along the shores, but during the rest of the year they are essentially sea birds, feeding on or about the floating masses of kelp or seaweeds, or following the whales or schools of large fish; hence they are aptly called "sea geese," "whale birds," or "bowhead birds." they occasionally come in to brackish pools near the shore or rarely are seen on the sandy beaches or mud flats feeding with other shore birds. outlying rocky islands are often favorite feeding places. ludwig kumlien (1879) writes: whalemen always watch these birds while they are wheeling around high in the air in graceful and rapid circles, for they know that as soon as they sight a whale blowing they start for him, and from their elevated position they can, of course, discern one at a much greater distance than the men in the boat i doubt if it be altogether the marine animals brought to the surface by the whale that they are after, for if the whale remains above the surface any length of time they always settle on his back and hunt parasites. one specimen was brought me by an eskimo that he had killed on the back of an _orca gladiator_; the esophagus was fairly crammed with _laernodipodian crustaceans_, still alive, although the bird had been killed some hours; they looked to me like _caprella phasma_ and _cyamus ceti_. according to the eskimo who killed it, the birds were picking something from the whale's back, i have often seen them dart down among a school of _delphinapterous leucas_ and follow them as far as i could see. on one occasion a pair suddenly alighted astern of my boat and were not 3 feet from me at times; they followed directly in the wake of the boat, and seemed so intent on picking up food that they paid no attention whatever to us. they had probably mistaken the boat for a whale. in northeastern greenland, manniche (1910) saw them hunt flying insects on land; he also says: some 20 analyses of stomachs proved that the phalaropes in the breeding season chiefly feed on small insects, principally gnats and larvae of these. the esophagus and stomachs of several birds killed were filled with larvae of gnats, which in vast multitudes live in the fresh-water ponds. in a few stomachs i also found fine indeterminable remnants of plants (algae?). w. leon dawson (1923) describes their feeding habits at the farallones, as follows: three red phalaropes, all female i take it, although none of them in highest plumage, and one northern, also a female, just under "high," are pasturing at my feet in a brackish pool some 20 feet long, 10 feet wide, and 2 feet deep. the waters of the pool teem with a minute reddish crustacean (?) shaped like an ant, less than a thirty-second of an inch in length and incredibly nimble. the insects progress by leaps, and are visible only at the moment of arrival. yet these birds gobble them up one at a time with unerring accuracy and with a rapidity which is nothing short of marvelous. the reds work habitually at the rate of five dabs per second, i. e., 300 a minute, while the northern, with a longer beak and a much daintier motion, works only half as fast. the following observation was made on a california beach by roland c. ross (1922): kelp flies seemed to satisfy its sporting instincts and hunger, and the bird stalked them slowly and pointedly one by one. with bill and neck outstretched and lowered in line with a fly on the sand, a slow advance was made until with a pounce the hunt closed. if the fly escaped, the phalarope sometimes ran after it, bill out. another pose interested me. on finding a kelp mass decaying and drawing flies, the phalarope approached closely and so low that his breast touched the ground, but the rear of the bird was high up. at times he would remain with breast down and pick at the flies much as a dusting fowl picks up a stray grain. mr. l. e. wyman reported similar "breast to ground" actions of two phalaropes he saw feeding by a kelp mass on the beach. alexander wetmore (1925), in his report on the food of the red phalarope, analyzed the contents of 36 stomachs, mainly from the pribilof islands, with some from new york and maine; they were collected from may to november, but mainly in august. crustaceans made up 33.5 per cent of the food; beetles amounted to 27.3 per cent; flies formed 22.7 per cent; and 6.8 per cent consisted of tiny fishes, mostly sculpins. the food of this species therefore shows it to be harmless or neutral. _behavior._--phalaropes are active, lively birds in all their movements and they seem to be constantly on the move. they are all rapid fliers and this species is decidedly the swiftest on the wing of all three. as the restless flocks move about over the water, their aerial evolutions are well worth watching. lucien m. turner, in his labrador notes, writes that he has seen them "ascend to a great height in increasing circles, darting in and out among each other and making a peculiar twitter as they ascend. when some suitable locality is discerned these birds descend almost perpendicularly and drop on the water as softly as a feather." they are so much like sandpipers in appearance and in manner of flight that one is always surprised to see them alight on the water. perhaps even more surprising than their peculiar marital relations are their aquatic habits. their semipalmated and lobed toes are well adapted for swimming and the thick, compact plumage of their under parts protects them and buoys them up on the water. they float as lightly as corks, or as freshly fallen autumn leaves on a woodland pool, swimming swiftly and whirling rapidly, undisturbed by rushing currents or by foaming breakers. william brewster (1925) has well described the behavior of a red phalarope on an inland stream at umbagog lake, me.; he writes: i strolled across a suspension footbridge that spans bear river here, a shallow stream rippling over a rocky bed scarce 50 feet in width, beneath overhanging yellow birches and other deciduous trees. returning a few minutes later i had reached the middle of the bridge when a grayish bird started directly under it and flew off down stream for a few rods, skimming close to the water and uttering a sharp _whit, whit_, which reminded me of the call of a spotted sandpiper concerned for the safety of its young. almost at the first glance i recognized the bird as a red phalarope whose presence in such a place surprised me greatly, of course. alighting, again, in the middle of the river it floated buoyantly and stemmed the swift current with apparent ease, although avoiding such exertion, whenever possible, by taking advantage of backward-flowing eddies. presently it began working around the bases of some large boulders where it seemed to be obtaining abundant food by pecking rapidly and incessantly at their rough flanks, wetted by lapping waves. it also fed on the surface of the swirling eddies, paddling about very rapidly and in devious courses. it was most interesting to see a bird whose characteristic haunts, at least in autumn and winter, are boundless stretches of wind-swept ocean, thus disporting itself in a brawling mountain stream overarched by trees. even a water ousel could not have appeared more perfectly at home there. like most phalaropes this one was tame and confiding, but whenever i approached within 20 or 25 feet, it would rise and fly on a few yards, giving the _whit_ call. on land their movements are exceedingly rapid and graceful, though somewhat erratic; they run about excitedly with all the restless activity of sandpipers, nodding their heads with a pretty, dovelike motion. at such times they are remarkably tame, unsuspicious, and gentle birds; as they do not habitually come in contact with human beings, they are unafraid. _voice._--the vocal performances of the red phalarope are not elaborate. as quoted above, doctor nelson (1887) describes its note as "a low and musical _clink, clink_, sounding very much like the noise made by lightly tapping together two small bars of steel." mr. brewster (1925) refers to the note as "an emphatic _zip, zip_, closely resembling that of bonaparte's sandpiper ... but louder and mellower." again he says: "once they rose and flew about the pond precisely like small sandpipers, one of them uttering a peep-like _tweet_ just as it left the water." charles w. townsend (1920) saw one which "emitted a whistle which was clear and pleasant at times, and again sharp and grating; at times the note could be expressed as a _creak_." _field marks._--in its nuptial plumage the red phalarope can be easily recognized by its brilliant colors; the male is smaller, his colors are duller, and his breast is mixed with white. in its winter plumage, in which we usually see it, it is likely to be confused with the northern phalarope or the sanderling. it is larger than the former, more stockily built and has a shorter, thicker bill, which is yellowish at the base. from the sanderling it can be distinguished by the gray markings on the head and neck, which are mainly white in winter sanderlings, by the darker gray of the back and by the yellow at the base of the bill. phalaropes are usually tame enough to allow close study of these details. john t. nichols suggests to me the following additional field characters: this phalarope holds its gray plumage well into the spring and adults quickly resume same when they go to sea in late summer. around the first of august flocks offshore are in gray and white "winter" plumage, but a few birds have a peculiar pink tone appreciable on the underparts at fair range, apt to be strongest posteriorly, and which is diagnostic. it is caused by scattered old red feathers overlaid by the delicate tips of new white ones. the white wing stripe is somewhat broader in this than in the northern phalarope and in gray plumage the upper parts are of so pale a tone that the wing pattern appears faint, something as it does in the piping plover. what seems to be a late summer plumage of birds of the year, on the other hand, is less white than the corresponding one of the northern. as the bird sits on the water the sides of its neck, breast, and sides appear brownish (not red or pink), the only touch of whitish it shows is on the flanks. at close range a curved phalarope mark behind the eye is just indicated, corresponding to the bold contrasting mark in the northern. _enemies._--phalaropes are not considered game birds, as they are too small and too seldom seen in large numbers to warrant pursuing them; so man should not be counted among their enemies. on their arctic breeding grounds they evidently have plenty of avian enemies, such as jaegers, gulls, and various gyrfalcons. mr. manniche (1910) writes: the two phalaropes observed were evidently very much afraid of larger waders as for instance knots. several times i saw them rush together in terror and lie motionless on the water with their heads pressed down to their backs until the supposed danger--a passing knot--was past; then they continued their meal or love-making. the only enemy of the full-grown birds is the gyrfalcon (_falco gyrfalco_), which will surprise and capture them when lying on the water. this i succeeded in observing one day in summer 1907; just as i was observing a male phalarope, which swam along the beach of a little clear pond hardly two paces from my feet, i suddenly heard a strong whistling in the air and saw an old falcon, that from a dizzy height shot like an arrow towards the surface of the water, caught the phalarope and again rapidly rose in the air carrying the bird in its talons. i saw the bird of prey descend and settle on the summit of a rock near the bay in order to eat its prey. the method, with which the falcon carried out its exploit, proved that several phalaropes before had the same fate. the gyrfalcon can certainly not catch a phalarope in flight. nature, however, sometimes takes her toll, as the following observation on the coast of california reported by l. w. welch (1922) will illustrate: there was an unusual migration of red phalaropes (_phalaropus fulicarius_) this past fall. i saw about three hundred within an hour on the ponds of the long beach salt works. this was october 30. there was a great mortality among them this year. dead birds were brought to the schools picked up by children in the streets or elsewhere. on the ponds mentioned above, dead birds were washed up in windrows. i could count 19 from one position and 21 from another. i counted 75 within half an hour. the birds had no shot holes in them, and showed no external evidences of having flown against wires, but all the birds examined were emaciated in the extreme. mr. brandt in his manuscript notes writes: i was told that the natives look upon the flesh of the red phalarope as the greatest delicacy, and it is considered the choicest food that can be placed before an honored guest. the little native boys have, as their most prized mark, this red-brown target. inasmuch as this bird inhabits the small ponds just outside the villages, the young hunters have always easily stalked game available. the children begin to hunt the red phalarope as soon as they are large enough to pull a bow string. the chase is so alluring that the older boys in my employ could not resist the temptation whenever presented, to grab a bow and arrow from the youngsters, and stalk this little bird. the chase is not one sided, however, as the phalarope is as quick as a flash, and like cupid's arrows, many shots fail to reach their mark. _fall._--the red phalaropes are the last of the waders to leave their arctic breeding grounds, lingering until the lakes and shores are closed with ice, often well into october. these loiterers are all young birds; the adults leave early and are sometimes seen off the coasts of the united states in july. f. s. hersey and i collected one at chatham, mass., on july 4, 1921; this may have been a loiterer from the spring flight, but probably it was an early fall migrant. the fall migration is usually well out at sea, often hundreds of miles from land. kumlien (1879) writes: these birds were met with at great distances from land. the first seen on our outward passage was on august 4, 1877, in latitude 41â° n., longitude 68â° w.; here large flocks were met with. as we proceeded northward, their numbers increased till we reached grinnell bay. off the amitook islands, on the labrador coast, 200 miles from the nearest land, i saw very large flocks during a strong gale. william palmer (1890) met with it in great abundance between cape sable and cape cod on august 30. off the coast of california the flight begins in july or early august and continues through the fall; a few birds linger through the winter from monterey southward. throughout the great interior of north america migration records are scattered, hardly more than casuals. it is interesting, however, to note that audubon (1840) saw his first birds of this species on the ohio river near louisville, kentucky, where he killed 17 at one shot. i have an adult male in my collection which was shot on the taunton river, near my home, on august 12, 1913. _winter._--our knowledge of the winter home of our american birds of this species is rather meager. they have been traced as far south as the falkland islands in the atlantic ocean and juan fernandez in the pacific. probably they are scattered over the warmer portions of both oceans, wherever they can find an abundant food supply. a number of phalaropes, almost certainly of this species, were observed by mr. nichols in the atlantic, off cape lookout, march 22, 1926. "they may winter here or, what is equally likely, arrive in spring to find the same feed which attracts the mackerel to the capes of the carolinas in march or april." aretas a. saunders writes to me of a similar observation made by him off the coast of south carolina on march 5, 1908: that day red phalaropes were abundant on the water, though we were out of sight of land. the sea was calm with a glossy surface, but a slight swell and flocks of from 10 to 50 birds rose from in front of the boat, at intervals all morning. they flew in compact flocks, low over the water, and alighted again when some distance away. distribution _range._--arctic regions of both old and new worlds; south in winter to south africa, india, china, and southern south america. _breeding range._--in the old world the red phalarope breeds on the arctic coast from iceland east to nova zembla, the taimur peninsula, and the islands and coast of siberia to bering sea. the race, _jourdaini_, breeds in spitsbergen, iceland, and eastern greenland. in the western hemisphere the breeding range extends north to alaska (probably st. lawrence island, cape prince of wales, cape lowenstern, point barrow, and the colville delta); mackenzie (rendezvous lake and franklin bay); northern franklin (bay of mercy, winter harbor, and cape liverpool); grinnell island (fort conger); and greenland (disco bay, godhavn, and probably christianshaab). east to greenland (stormkap and probably christianshaab); eastern franklin (exeter sound, probably nugumeute and grinnell bay); and ungava (port burwell). south to ungava (port burwell and probably prince of wales sound); southern franklin (southampton island and cape fullerton); and alaska (fort egbert and hooper bay). west to alaska (hooper bay, st. michael, and probably st. lawrence island). _winter range._--in the eastern hemisphere the winter range of the red phalarope seems to be principally at sea off the southern coast of arabia and the west coast of africa. at this season in the western hemisphere it has been taken or observed north to lower california (la paz and cape san lucas); off the coast of southern california (point pinos, santa cruz islands, anacapa island, and san diego); alabama (pickett springs); florida (canaveral light); and south carolina (mount pleasant); and south to southern south america (falkland islands, patagonia, and chile). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival in north america are: north carolina, cape lookout, may 29; delaware, seen off the coast, may 9; new jersey, cape may, may 3, and ocean city, may 6; new york, shelter island, march 25, and montauk point, april 30; connecticut, bridgeport, may 30; massachusetts, gloucester, april 2; maine, york beach, may 8; nova scotia, halifax, june 10; quebec, prince of wales sound, may 31; washington, destruction island lighthouse, may 8; and alaska, cape constantine, may 15, kodiak island, may 16, near kotlik, may 28, prince frederick sound, may 29, and point barrow, june 3. _fall migration._--late dates of departure in the fall are: alaska, chatham straits, september 9, becharof lake, october 6, point barrow, october 10, st. michael, october 14, and kodiak island, november 4; washington, ilwaco, november 9, and shoalwater bay, november 24; california, berkeley, october 27, point reyes, november 22, and santa barbara, november 30; labrador, west ste. modiste, september 13; prince edward island, north river, november 20; nova scotia, off the coast, september 16; maine, westbrook, september 26, old orchard, october 5, and portland, october 16; massachusetts, north truro, october 15, near nantucket, october 25, and boston, december 30; connecticut, portland, october 21, and east haven, november 24; new york, oneida lake, october 4, branchport, october 12, orient point, october 15, cayuga lake, october 18, and montauk point, november 27; maryland, white's ferry, october 4; district of columbia, anacostia river, october 17; and virginia, blacksburg, september 21. _casual records._--the red phalarope is rare or irregular anywhere in the interior but it has nevertheless been detected over wide areas on several occasions. among these records are: vermont, woodstock, november 10, 1916; pennsylvania, bucks county, december 15, 1918; ohio, painesville, november 9, 1923; ontario, ottawa, october 21, 1886, and hamilton, november 17, 1882; michigan, monroe, october 24, 1888, and october 25, 1890; indiana, jasper county, april 10, 1885, and terre haute, october 23, 1889; wisconsin, lake koshkonong, september 3, 1891, delavan, october 11, 1902, and near cedar grove, october 8, 1921; kentucky, near louisville, latter part of october, 1808; south dakota, one taken near rapid city (date unknown); kansas, near lawrence, november 5, 1905; wyoming, laramie plains, fall of 1897; colorado, loveland, july 25, 1895; and texas, wise county, september 26, 1893. it also has been taken once in new zealand, at waimate, south island, in june, 1883. _egg dates._--alaska: 152 records, may 25 to july 13; 76 records, june 14 to 30. arctic canada: 14 records, june 21 to july 14; 7 records, june 24 to july 6. spitsbergen: 22 records, june 24 to july 18; 11 records, june 28 to july 11. iceland: 17 records, june 1 to 25; 9 records, june 14 to 22. lobipes lobatus (linnaeus) northern phalarope habits this is the smallest, the most abundant, and the most widely distributed of the phalaropes; consequently it is the best known. its breeding range is circumpolar, but extends much farther south than that of the red phalarope; it might be called sub-arctic rather than arctic. there seems to be only one homogeneous species around the world. it resembles the red phalarope in its habits, but is more often seen on inland waters than is that species. _spring._--countless thousands of these dainty little birds migrate northward off both coasts of north america in may, but very few ever come ashore except in bad weather. while cruising off the coast, 10 or more miles from land, one is likely to see them flying about in flocks, after the manner of small sandpipers, flitting about and alighting on drifting masses of seaweed or other flotsam, or swimming lightly on the smooth surface of the sea, darting hither and thither in a most erratic way, each seemingly intent on gathering its tiny bits of food. they are gentle, graceful, and charming little birds and well worth watching. there is also a heavy northward migration through the interior during may. in saskatchewan i saw a large flock at quill lake on may 28, 1917; and in the crane lake region we recorded it as an abundant migrant; it was seen migrating, on may 29, 1905, in large flocks with sanderlings; one was seen at hay lake on june 15; and two were taken on june 14, 1906, at big stick lake, which were in breeding condition. c. g. harrold writes to me that it is a common and rather late migrant in manitoba. william rowan's notes contain several references to the enormous flocks which pass beaverhill lake, alberta, in may, mostly during the last two weeks. dr. e. w. nelson (1887) has given us the following attractive account of the arrival of these birds in northern alaska: as summer approaches on the arctic shores and coast of bering sea the numberless pools, until now hidden under a snowy covering, become bordered or covered with water; the mud about their edges begins to soften, and through the water the melting ice in the bottom looks pale green. the ducks and geese fill the air with their loud resounding cries, and the rapid wing strokes of arriving and departing flocks add a heavy bass to the chorus which greets the opening of another glad season in the wilds of the cheerless north. amid this loud-tongued multitude suddenly appears the graceful, fairylike form of the northern phalarope. perhaps, as the hunter sits by the border of a secluded pool still half covered with snow and ice, a pair of slight wings flit before him, and there, riding on the water, scarcely making a ripple, floats this charming and elegant bird. it glides hither and thither on the water, apparently drifted by its fancy, and skims about the pool like an autumn leaf wafted before the playful zephyrs on some embosomed lakelet in the forest. the delicate tints and slender fragile form, combining grace of color and outline with a peculiarly dainty elegance of motion, render this the most lovely and attractive among its handsome congeners. the first arrivals reach st. michaels in full plumage from may 14 to 15, and their number is steadily augmented, until, the last few days of may and 1st of june, they are on hand in full force and ready to set about the season's cares. every pool now has from one to several pairs of these birds gliding in restless zigzag motion around its border, the slender necks at times darting quickly right or left as the bright black eyes catch sight of some minute particle of food. they may be watched with pleasure for hours, and present a picture of exquisite gentleness which renders them an unfailing source of interest. the female of this bird, as is the case with the two allied species, is much more richly colored than the male and possesses all the "rights" demanded by the most radical reformers. _courtship._--the same gifted writer goes on to say: as the season comes on when the flames of love mount high, the dull-colored male moves about the pool, apparently heedless of the surrounding fair ones. such stoical indifference usually appears too much for the feelings of some of the fair ones to bear. a female coyly glides close to him and bows her head in pretty submissiveness, but he turns away, pecks at a bit of food and moves off; she follows and he quickens his speed, but in vain; he is her choice, and she proudly arches her neck and in mazy circles passes and repasses close before the harassed bachelor. he turns his breast first to one side, then to the other, as though to escape, but there is his gentle wooer ever pressing her suit before him. frequently he takes flight to another part of the pool, all to no purpose. if with affected indifference he tries to feed, she swims along side by side, almost touching him, and at intervals rises on wing above him and, poised a foot or two over his back, makes a half dozen quick, sharp wing strokes, producing a series of sharp, whistling noises in rapid succession. in the course of time it is said that water will wear the hardest rock, and it is certain that time and importunity have their full effect upon the male of this phalarope, and soon all are comfortably married, while mater familias no longer needs to use her seductive ways and charming blandishments to draw his notice. mrs. audrey gordon (1921) made some interesting observations on the courtship of the red-necked phalarope, as this species is called abroad; she writes of her experiences in the hebrides: three pairs were apparently in process of courting and their behavior was most interesting. both cocks and hens were swimming in the water near the shore or in pools among the rushes. suddenly a hen would raise herself in the water and flutter her wings at a great pace with her head held down and neck outstretched, all the while uttering a curious harsh call. she would then pursue the cock rapidly through the water for a few yards as though trying to attract his attention. at times the cock rose from the water and flew round about the pool where the hen was, with a low erratic flight and very slow wing beats, calling as he flew. this display only lasted a minute, when he would again alight on the water. once after this flight the hen followed him closely and he turned and seemed to be about to mate her, but she would not let him. i saw no more on this occasion, but on june 18 i watched two hens and one cock in a pool. one of the hens kept close to the cock and whenever the other hen came nearer she would chase her away. both the cock and the hen were seen to stand up in the water and flutter their wings as described above. the cock seemed to pay little attention to the hens and was busy pursuing, and picking up off the water, large black flies. then, without any warning or unusual excitement on the part of either cock or hen, the nearest one to the cock suddenly put her head low down in the water with neck outstretched and made a curious single note. the cock at once swam to her and mating took place, the hen being submerged in the water except for her beautiful red neck. the cock fluttered his wings all the time; he then went ashore into the grasses. the second hen still kept in the neighborhood, though i imagine she must have realized she had lost her chance of a mate. p. h. bahr (1907) throws some light on the peculiar sexual relations of this species; he says: on the 5th of june we watched the phenomena of polygamy, and of attempted polyandry in this species. at one end of the loch the former condition held sway, two energetic and quarrelsome females having attached themselves to one miserable-looking male, and it was ludicrous to behold the awe in which he held them. once in particular he nearly swam between my legs in his efforts to avoid their attentions. till our departure on the 27th, these three birds were constantly to be seen together. at the other end of the loch two males were seen continuously circling round the head of a female. i frequently observed the male performing evolutions, which i have previously described as the "marriage flight." zigzagging from side to side with amazing rapidity he would hover with dangling legs over the head of the female, who, circling placidly in the water, appeared to take no notice of his attentions. then settling beside her he would peck and chase her as if endeavoring to make her take to flight. failing in this he would dash off once more across the marsh uttering a warbling sort of song much like that of the ringed plover. then he would settle in a reedy spot, such as would be chosen for the nesting site, and would call vigorously, looking always in the direction of the female, as if expecting her to follow. i observed several pairs, behaving in this manner, and such was their fervor that the males continued this performance even in the midst of one of the worst storms we experienced. often the female would resent these attentions, and a pitched battle would ensue. herbert w. brandt (mss.) writes: it is very interesting to watch a struggle between two female northern phalaropes over a solitary male. they fight by the hour, not after the manner of the males, which rush at each other and boldly lock in a mortal combat, but rather these females fight by flipping their wings and pecking at each other instead of laying hold with determination. this can be likened only to a feminine hair-pulling episode. one day i watched such a combat for an hour, and there were numerous occasions on which i thought that one of the birds would succumb; but the contest seemed to be very equal, and when a bird recovered from a hard onslaught it would return at once and take up the wing sparring. they would flutter here and there over the ground, first one then the other attacking, closely followed all the time by the shy but neutral male, the prize of the conflict. natives informed me that they had never known of one's being killed by the other, but that the birds would fight all day long. _nesting._--my personal experience with the nesting habits of the northern phalarope has been limited to what few nests we found in the aleutian islands in 1911. these birds were very scarce or entirely absent in the eastern half of the chain. we saw a few on atka island where several nests, with fresh eggs or incomplete sets, were found on june 18. on kiska island they were really abundant and we found them breeding about the small grassy ponds and wet meadows; fresh eggs were found on june 21. their favorite resorts all through the western part of the chain were the wetter portions of the flat alluvial plains, near the mouths of the streams and about the marshy ponds. they were very tame everywhere and, about the ponds where they were breeding, they were very solicitous and noisy. their simple nests were merely deep, little hollows, lined with a few bits of grass, in the little mounds or tussocks in the wet meadows around the borders of the ponds or near the small streams. f. s. hersey collected several sets of eggs for me near st. michael, alaska, in 1914 and 1915; most of the nests were in rather wet situations on the tundra, in or near marshy places, rather poorly concealed and scantily lined with grasses; others were well hidden in the clumps of scanty grass, or deeply sunken into the tundra mosses and lined with bits of leaves or well lined with grasses. other observers have described the nesting habits of this species substantially as indicated above, except that henry h. slater (1898), who has "encountered 45 nests with eggs in them in one day, and considerably more than a hundred altogether", describes the nest as "a deep comfortable cup, concealed in a tuft of grass, or under a trailing branch of some dwarf arctic shrub." _eggs._--the northern phalarope lays four eggs almost invariably, rarely three eggs constitute a second set; as many as five and even seven eggs have been found in a nest, the largest number being the product of two females. the eggs vary in shape from subpyriform to ovate pyriform, are slightly glossy and are very fragile. the prevalent ground colors range from "pale olive buff" to "dark olive buff" or "ecru olive;" "olive buff" seems to be the commonest shade. in richly colored sets the colors range from "isabella color," or "dresden brown" to "buckthorn brown;" and in light buffy sets from "cream buff" to "cream color." the size, type, and arrangement of markings vary greatly in endless patterns. some eggs, perhaps only one in a set, are evenly covered with small spots or dots, but more often these are mixed with larger, irregular spots or blotches. some eggs are boldly marked with large irregular blotches. the colors of the markings range from "sepia," or "warm sepia," and "bister" to deep blackish brown, depending on the depth of the pigment. the underlying spots, in various drab shades, are small, inconspicuous and not numerous. in my series of over 50 sets there are two abnormal eggs; one is plain bluish white and unmarked; and another is similar except for one large blotch of "sepia" covering the large end. the measurements of 119 eggs, in the united states national museum, average 29 by 20 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =33= by 21, 28 by =22.5=, =27= by 19, and 31 by =18.5= millimeters. _young._--the period of incubation does not seem to be definitely known, but probably it is not far from 21 days. a set of four eggs found by h. b. conover on june 10 hatched on the evening of june 30. incubation is performed largely, but perhaps not wholly, by the male. h. h. slater (1898) writes: jerdon asserts that the females (of all the phalaropes presumably) leave the care of the nests to the males and lead a club life in separate flocks. in the present species i have not found the sex to be so much "emancipated." i have never shot the red-necked phalarope off the nest, often as i have had a chance to do so, nor have i seen bare hatching spots on the breasts of either sex. i have no doubt that the males are the most attentive parents, but in the case of isolated nests the second bird makes its appearance before you have been there long, and i have repeatedly seen both with the young. in fact, i should have said that of all the birds i know the present species is the most connubial, and the mutual devotion of a pair is a most charming thing to see--in fact, quite touching. when not actively employed they treat themselves, and one another, to all manner of pretty and playful endearments. hugh s. gladstone (1907) says: incubation is performed mostly, if not entirely, by the male. i flushed females off nests on two occasions, but in one case the full complement of eggs was not yet laid, and in the other i think they were only newly laid. the ground color of the eggs varied from stone to olive, and in one nest all four eggs were remarkably rotund. they take some 18 days to hatch, and only one brood is hatched in the season, though if the first sitting is destroyed the bird will lay again. the nestlings, although they can not fly for some days, are wonderfully precocious and can swim immediately. their beautiful golden downy plumage becomes paler and paler, even after the first 24 hours. when the nest contains eggs the female bird shows the greatest anxiety. she can be seen swimming about in the pools; or, rising without any splash, flying up and down quite close to one, uttering a low cry of "_plip, plip_," varied by a hoarse "_chiss-ick_." this cry warns the male, which never flies off the nest, but always creeps through the grass and rushes, to some pool, near one of which the nest is invariably placed. here he will soon be joined by the female, and they will swim about trying to hide their anxiety by preening their feathers or pretending to feed. some observers have said that the young do not take to the water until they are fully fledged, but mr. hersey's notes say that: "they run lightly over the beaten down masses of grass around the tundra ponds and when they know they are discovered take to the water and swim as well as their parents." doctor nelson (1887) writes: fresh eggs are rarely found after june 20th, and by the middle to 20th of july the young are fledged and on the wing. by the 12th to 15th of july a few of the ashy feathers of the autumnal plumage appear, and soon after old and young begin to gather in parties of from five to a hundred or more, and seek the edges of large ponds and flats or the muddy parts of the coast and borders of tide creeks. during august and september they are found on the bays, and the last are seen about the last of september or first of october. _plumages._--the general color pattern of the downy young northern phalarope is similar to that of the red phalarope, but it differs in some details and the colors are lighter and more yellowish above. the colors vary from "ochraceous tawny," on the crown and rump, to "antimony yellow," on the rest of the upper parts, and to "naples yellow" on the throat. the underparts are more extensively grayish white than in the preceding species and there is considerable whitish between the black stripes on the back. there is more black in the crown, which is nearly surrounded by it, and the black terminates in a point on the nape. a very narrow black line runs from the bill to the eye; and there is a black auricular patch. the central black stripe on the back is broad, but the side stripes are narrow, and there are extensive black patches on thighs and wings. i have seen no specimens showing the progress of development of the juvenal plumage. in the full juvenal plumage in august, the crown, occiput, and a space around the eye are black, the former faintly mottled with buff; the remainder of the head, throat, and under parts are white, more or less suffused with "light cinnamon drab" and gray on the sides of the neck, breast, and flanks; the feathers of the back and scapulars are brownish black, broadly edged with bright "ochraceous tawny," which gradually fades; some of the tertials are narrowly edged with the same color; the median and inner greater wing coverts and the central tail feathers are narrowly edged with pale buff or white. a partial molt of the body plumage in september and october produces the first winter plumage, which is like that of the winter adult, except that the juvenal wings are retained. the sexes are alike in the juvenal and all winter plumages. a partial prenuptial molt, from february to june, involving the body plumage, some of the wing coverts and scapulars and the tail, produces the first nuptial plumage, in which the sexes differ, and which is nearly, if not quite, indistinguishable from that of the adult. adults have a complete molt from july to october and an incomplete molt from february to june, similar to that of the young bird, producing the distinct and well-known winter and nuptial plumages. _food._--the northern phalarope obtains most of its food in the water, on the ocean or in bays or in brackish pools or in fresh-water ponds. its characteristic and best-known method of feeding, on which many observers have commented, is to swim rapidly about in a small circle or to spin around in one spot, by alternate strokes of its lobed feet; this quick whirling action is supposed to stir up the minute forms of animal life on which it feeds and bring them within reach of its needlelike bill, which it jabs into the water two or three times during each revolution; the spinning motion is often very rapid and sometimes quite prolonged, a curious performance to watch. we saw this many times in the aleutian islands where small flocks were constantly seen spinning around about the old piers or feeding in the surf off the beaches where they floated buoyantly over the little waves or fluttered over the crests of the small breakers. william brewster (1925) describes an interesting feeding performance, at umbagog lake, maine, as follows: alighting again, about 100 yards off, it began fluttering about in circles, now narrowly clearing the water for a yard or two, next hitting against or skittering over the surface, acting indeed, for all the world like some enfeebled butterfly or clumsy moth, alternately attracted and repelled by a forest pool lying in deep shadow. this singular performance was occasionally varied by more pronounced upward flights, extending to a height of several feet, and apparently undertaken in pursuit of flying insects, passing overhead. both the northern and the red phalaropes feed in large numbers at sea, often being associated together; their favorite feeding places are in the tide rips, on or around floating masses of seaweed, in the vicinity of whales or near schools of fish. george h. mackay (1894) writes: on may 25, 1894, about 10,000 (as carefully estimated) were observed resting on the water around the "pigs" (rocks lying off swampscott), occupying an area of about a mile radius. they were feeding on the red whale bait (brit) some of which was taken from them. i am informed that these birds follow the mackerel, which also feed on this brit, by their pursuit of which it is driven to the surface, and is then obtainable by the birds. i am also told that in the bay of fundy the phalaropes so frighten the mackerel when they come to the surface in pursuit of the brit, that the fish sink themselves. to prevent this, the fishermen carry at times quantities of liver cut up, which they throw out to attract these birds and keep them away from the fish in order that they may be better able to capture the latter. dr. alexander wetmore (1925), in his report on the food of the northern phalarope, gives the results of the examination of 155 stomachs, collected in alaska and in the united states, from may to october, inclusive; flies and the larvae of mosquitoes were the largest element, 32.8 per cent; the true bugs (_hemiptera_) came next, 31.8 per cent, including water boatmen and back swimmers; beetles represented 16.5 and crustaceans 9.3 per cent; the remainder contained dragonfly nymphs, spiders, marine worms, small mollusks, a few small fishes and a few seeds. various other insects and their larvae, many of which are injurious, are included in the food of this bird. _behavior._--in flight these phalaropes remind one of the smaller sandpipers; their flight is swift and often erratic; when flying in flocks they twist and turn and wheel back and forth like a flock of peeps, flashing white or dark gray, as breasts or backs are turned toward the observer. mr. brewster (1883) has seen them pitch "down from a considerable height with closed wings, much as snipe will do under similar circumstances." again he (1925) speaks of seeing one "rise abruptly to a height of 15 or 20 feet, and poise there for a moment, beating its wings and shaking its tail in a violent and peculiar manner." it is while swimming on smooth water that the northern phalarope seems most at home, most graceful, charming, and confiding; it is usually very tame and easily approached, but sometimes, especially when in large flocks, it seems to be afraid of a boat and keeps beyond gun range. it swims lightly as a cork, its thick coat of breast feathers giving it great buoyancy, its head is held high and carried with a graceful nodding motion. when a flock alights on the water, the individuals soon scatter and swim about rapidly and independently in zigzag lines or circles, jabbing their bills into the water in a nervous and excited manner. i have never seen them dive and doubt if they can do so, as they seem to have great difficulty in getting under water, even to bathe. they frequently alight on floating masses of seaweed, where they run about and feed with all the nervous activity of small sandpipers on a mud flat. roland c. ross (1924) made some interesting observations in southern california; he writes: "the northern phalarope is quite fearless in this region, but seldom does one find the birds so confiding as in the following instance: mr. ray francisco, the warden for the gun club on this marsh, was working in water a foot or two deep, pulling out sedges, dock, and arrow-weed. the northern phalaropes took an interest in this roiled up water and drew close to dab at the surface and "whirligig" about in their unique way. as the man kept at work they drew nearer until actually about his feet. they stayed with him until he stopped work in that section. they were observed sleeping on land and water, bill along the back under a wing. their ablutions were absurd attempts to get a swanlike breast and neck under water, when such airy grace and buoyancy forbade any subaquatic ventures. to get the proper ducking the phalarope stretches up and drives his pretty head and breast down in the water, which effort promptly forces his tail end up; whereupon like a cork he rebounds, to ride high and dry above the water with hardly a sign of moisture on the close-fitting plumage. at once he jerks up and ducks again, and again, all to little avail, seemingly. this up-jerk and ducking motion can be observed at a good distance, and the birds may be identified by it." a curious little incident, observed in the hebrides by misses best and haviland (1914), is thus described: on the south side of the loch, just where we had seen the pair of birds on our previous visit, we found a male and female in the long herbage at the water side. perhaps we ought to reverse the usual order and say female and male, for the traditional dominance of the masculine sex is entirely unknown in this species. certainly this cock bird was a most henpecked little fowl. possibly he had been captured immediately on his arrival from the sea. at any rate, he was apparently tired out, and whenever the hen stopped, as she frequently did, to preen herself or feed, he sat down where he was, and tucking his bill under his feathers, went to sleep. before he had dozed for more than a minute, however, the female would peck him awake, and, calling querulously, force him to follow her while she led the way through the marsh. now and then she flew at him and chased him about, as if losing patience. this little scene was repeated three or four times, and the birds were so confiding that we were able to photograph them in the act. aretas a. saunders writes to me: i watched flocks of these birds on a small pond near the priest butte lakes, in seton county, mont. they flew to the pond in a compact flock, scattered over the pond to feed, and evidently gathered insects from the surface of the water. when frightened by the approach of a marsh hawk the birds all rose, quickly formed the compact flock and flew away, returning later when the hawk had gone. _voice._--the vocal performances of this little phalarope are not elaborate or striking. as it rises from the water it utters a plaintive and rather faint twittering note of one, two or three syllables, which has been variously noted as _tchip_, or _tchep_, or _pe-et_, or _pleep_, or _wit_, _wit_, or _quet_, _quet_. charles w. townsend (1920) says that it has a variety of notes. at times it twitters like a barn swallow, at times it emits a single harsh note like that of the eave swallow. again a gentle _ee-ep_ is emitted, or a sharp _quip_. according to witherby's handbook (1920), "gladstone describes alarm note as a hoarse _chiss-ick_, and aplin speaks of a short _quit_, a rapid _ket-ket_, _ket-ket_. and _chirra-chirra-chirra_ at nesting places." _field marks._--the northern is the smallest of the three phalaropes. it is the one most likely to be seen on inland ponds, except where the wilson phalarope is common; but the latter is much larger and lighter colored, especially in fall and winter. the best field marks are small size, small head, slender neck and needlelike bill. the upper parts are blackish or dark gray (not pearly gray, as in the others) and in flight a white stripe shows conspicuously near the posterior border of the wing. _fall._--northern phalaropes are very abundant during august and september off the coasts of new england, but they seldom come near shore, except in severe storms. the main migration route is so far off shore, south of cape cod, that these birds are seldom seen in the atlantic coast south of new england. there is a heavy fall migration throughout the interior, which begins quite early. we found them abundant on both migrations in saskatchewan and alberta. after i left, dr. l. b. bishop saw a flock of 100 at many island lake, alberta, on july 13, 1905, the beginning of the fall migration; they were still more abundant at big stick lake, saskatchewan, on the 19th; nearly all of the birds taken on these two dates were adult females; many males were probably still tending broods of young. a. g. lawrence writes to me that these birds are fairly common transients in southern manitoba, from august 15 to the end of september. h. l. stoddard (1923) has published the following note: occasionally in august and september of past years large flocks of small shore birds have been seen a long way offshore in the sand-dune region of southern lake michigan circling and wheeling, flashing alternately snow-white breasts and darker backs. long-range examination with binoculars showed rather prominent whitish wing bars, but the identity of the birds was never satisfactorily determined until the afternoon of august 28, 1921, when the writer was camping at the mouth of the above-mentioned bar creek, in sheboygan county, wis. about 2 o'clock in the afternoon a light fog drifted in, and soon after large numbers of small shore birds, similar in actions and appearance to those mentioned, were sighted executing extraordinary maneuvers close to the surface of the water about 500 yards out. they circled and recircled, turned and twisted, some of the flocks finally alighting in some smooth streaks in the water inshore of a long line of net stakes that extended about a mile out. fully 500 of the birds, now recognized as phalaropes, were in sight. one specimen, a female in fall plumage, was finally secured by tying the shotgun onto driftwood pieces and swimming out among them. they were in no way disturbed at my presence until a shot was fired, and i fully satisfied myself that the bulk of the flock were of the same species as the one secured, northern phalaropes. j. a. munro tells me that these birds are irregular fall migrants at okanagan landing, british columbia, from july 28 to september 18. along the california coast the fall migration is heavy and prolonged from the latter part of july until late october or early november, the bulk of the flight passing during august and september. grinnell, bryant, and storer (1918) say: heavy winds on the ocean sometimes prove disastrous to the migrating hosts of northern phalaropes. chapman records finding many bodies of this species in the tide pools of the farallon islands. a heavy northwest wind had been blowing along the coast for the previous two weeks, and many of the birds had resorted to inland pools of water. the emaciated condition of the birds at the farallones was probably due to their inability to procure food while on the open ocean in migration. forbush records numbers of these birds as being killed on the atlantic coast by dashing against lighthouses at night. in the cape region of lower california, brewster found that "most of the birds examined had lost one or more toes, and two or three an entire foot, and part of the tarsus also, while others showed gaping wounds on the breast. these mutilations were probably caused by the bites of fishes." emerson records finding several of these birds killed by flying against the telephone wires strung across the salt ponds on the marshes west of hayward, and says that very many of this and other species of birds are killed in this manner. _winter._--practically nothing is known about the winter home of this species in the western hemisphere. it is evidently south of the borders of the united states and probably south of the equator on the open ocean. the few straggling winter records for california and south america give but a scant clue to the winter resorts of the vast numbers that pass us on migrations. distribution _range._--distributed over both old and new worlds. _breeding range._--arctic regions of both hemispheres. in europe and asia the breeding range of the northern phalarope extends from iceland, spitsbergen, and scandinavia, across northern russia and siberia to bering sea. south to sakhalin island, southern russia (orenburg), and the outer hebrides, shetland, and orkney islands. in north america the breeding range extends north to alaska (near islands, st. paul island, nelson island, pastolik, st. michael, probably golofin bay, the kowak valley, cape blossom, point hope, point barrow, and the gens de large mountains); mackenzie (franklin bay); keewatin (cape eskimo); probably baffin island (cumberland sound); and greenland (north star bay, upernavik and jacob's bight). east to greenland (disko island); labrador (nain and hopedale); and western quebec (fort george and rupert house). south to western quebec (rupert house); northern manitoba (york factory and fort churchill); mackenzie (artillery lake and fort rae); and alaska (nushagak and kiska island). west to alaska (kiska and near islands). _winter range._--the winter range of the european and asiatic birds appears to extend south to southern japan, the north coast of new guinea, ceram, the coast of beluchistan, the east coast of arabia, and probably points in the northern part of the indian ocean. the winter range of north american breeding birds of this species is more or less imperfectly known, and they are believed to winter largely at sea. it has been reported as wintering in southern california; it has been taken or observed in costa rica (desamparados) and peru (tumbez); there is a specimen in the museum at buenos aires, argentina, that was taken in patagonia. _spring migration._--early dates of arrival in north america are: florida, 175 miles west of tampa, march 14; bermuda islands, march 18; south carolina, near chester, may 17; north carolina, cape lookout, april 3; maryland, cumberland, may 23; new jersey, 80 miles off barnegat, may 6, and cape may county, may 22; new york, long cave, april 2, montauk point, april 30, and branchport, may 16; connecticut, quinnipiac marshes, may 21; massachusetts, near boston, may 5, marthas vineyard, may 6, and provincetown, may 21; maine, near milo, may 3; quebec, godbout, may 27; nova scotia, halifax, may 12; ohio, youngstown, may 26; nebraska, lincoln, may 10; manitoba, shoal lake, may 19; saskatchewan, indian head, may 15, osler, may 13, and dinsmore, may 30; colorado, loveland, may 1, denver, may 17, and middle park, may 26; montana, big sandy, may 18, and terry, may 21; alberta, beaverhill lake, may 7; california, monterey, april 9, santa barbara, april 24, fresno, may 5, los banos, may 19, and santa cruz, may 22; oregon, klamath falls, april 17, malheur lake, april 26, and newport, april 30; washington, destruction island lighthouse, april 27, shoalwater bay, may 9, and olympia, may 13; british columbia, okanagan landing, may 18, and mabel lake, may 25; yukon, forty-mile, may 3; alaska, fort kenia, may 3, bethel, may 19, kowak river, may 22, igushik, may 23, st. michael, may 14, fort yukon, june 1, and point barrow, june 11; and greenland, north star bay, june 14. _fall migration._--late dates of departure are: alaska, pribilof islands, august 31, port clarence, september 6, and okutan, september 17; british columbia, okanagan landing, october 15; washington, clallam bay, october 28; oregon, oswego, september 25; california, fresno, october 6, watsonville, october 20, and monterey, october 24; montana, priest butte lakes, september 4, columbia falls, september 13, and corvallis, september 20; idaho, salmon river mountains, september 5; wyoming, fort washakie, september 13, and yellowstone park, september 18; colorado, near denver, october 13; manitoba, whitewater lake, september 9, and shoal lake, september 21; north dakota, stump lake, september 2; nebraska, lincoln, october 26; minnesota, st. vincent, august 31; wisconsin, near cedar grove, september 23; ontario, ottawa, october 12; ohio, youngstown, october 9; newfoundland, october 11; ungava, mouth of the koksoak river, september 19; maine, near pittsfield, september 3; new hampshire, lonesome lake, september 22, lancaster, october 8, and dublin pond, october 13; massachusetts, nantucket, september 20, near springfield, september 23, swampscott, september 26, harvard, october 5, and ware, october 13; connecticut, hartford, september 27; new york, branchport, september 15, athol spring, september 24, oneida lake, september 21, ithaca, september 27, flushing, september 29, and montauk point, october 22; new jersey, stone harbor, september 4, near tuckerton, september 13, and 5-fathom beach light, october 12; pennsylvania, pittston, september 2, beaver, september 26, carlisle, october 1, and erie, october 10; district of columbia, washington, august 31; west virginia, near parkersburg, september 26; north carolina, bladen county, september 23; and south carolina, frogmore, september 25, and sea islands, october 25. _casual records._--the northern phalarope is apparently less common in the mississippi valley and the southwest. some records in these regions are: michigan, lenawee county, september 14, 1899, near forestville, october 4, 1911, and october 28, 1911; indiana, fort wayne, june 7, 1889; illinois, calumet lake, september 27, 1903; iowa, burlington, august 10, 1894, and omaha, may 6, 1896; missouri, near st. louis, october 9, 1878; kansas, may 25, 1883; new mexico, las vegas, august 31, 1903; and arizona, walker lake, august 19, 1889. _egg dates._--alaska: 83 records, may 20 to july 23; 42 records, june 12 to 25. arctic canada: 58 records, june 16 to july 10; 29 records, june 23 to july 1. iceland: 43 records, may 25 to july 12; 22 records, june 8 to 26. british isles: 18 records, may 16 to july 12; 9 records, june 7 to 24. steganopus tricolor vieillot wilson phalarope habits i shall never forget my first impressions of a prairie slough with its teeming bird life, an oasis of moisture in a sea of dry, grassy plain, where all the various water birds of the region were thickly congregated. perhaps 10 or a dozen species of ducks could be seen in the open water, gulls and terns were drifting about overhead, grebes and countless coots were scurrying in and out among the reeds, and noisy killdeers added their plaintive cries to the ceaseless din from swarms of blackbirds in the marsh. in marked contrast to the clownish coots and the noisy killdeers and blackbirds, the almost silent, gentle, dainty, little phalaropes stand out in memory as charming features in the picture, so characteristic of western bird life. the virgin prairies are nearly gone, but there are still left a few oases of moisture in our encroaching civilization, where these graceful birds may continue to delight the eye with their gentle manners. unlike the other two world-wide species, the wilson phalarope is a strictly american bird, making its summer home in the interior of north america and wintering in southern south america. it differs from the other two also in being less pelagic and more terrestrial; it is seldom, if ever, seen on the oceans, being a bird of the inland marshes; and it prefers to spend more time walking about on land, or wading in shallow water, than swimming on the water. hence its bill, neck and legs are longer, and its feet less lobed. it is a more normal shore bird. _spring._--the spring migration seems to be directly northward from the west coasts of south america, through central america, to the mississippi valley on one hand and to california on the other. although it usually arrives in manitoba during the first week in may, sometimes as early as april 27, i have found it common in texas as late as may 17. wilson phalarope are often associated with northern phalaropes on migrations, sometimes in considerable flocks, frequenting the temporary ponds made by heavy spring rains on the grassy meadows, rather than the larger ponds and lakes. the first arrivals are usually females, followed later by mixed flocks of both sexes, which soon scatter and separate into small parties of two or three pairs. _courtship._--the pursuit courtship is thus described by rev. p. b. peabody (1903): for some three weeks after their arrival, these birds gladden landscape and water scape, in care-free abandon. they are ever on the move, afoot or awing; and during these three weeks of junketing, the unique courtship is carried on. there is no more laughable sight, to one endowed with a modicum of the sense of humor, than that of a couple, or even three, of the brightly colored females, ardently chasing a single somber-plumaged male, who turns and darts, here and there, in arrowy flights apparently much bored by the whole performance. meanwhile, the sometimes dangling feet and the ever tremulous wings of the amorous females bespeak an ardor that would be ridiculous, under the circumstances, were it not so desperately in earnest. dr. e. w. nelson (1877), on the other hand, writes: at these times the nearest approach to pursuit is in a habit they have of suddenly darting off for a short distance at right angles to their general course, but this appears to be in mere sport, for nearly the same relative positions are kept by the birds, and this erratic course is rarely pursued beyond a few rods. in fact, throughout the pairing season i have always found the phalaropes very undemonstrative toward each other, the choice of mates being conducted in a quiet, unobtrusive way, quite unlike the usual manner among birds. the only demonstrations i have observed during the pairing time consist of a kind of solemn bowing of the head and body; but sometimes, with the head lowered and thrust forward, they will run back and forth in front of the object of their regard, or again a pair may often be seen to salute each other by alternately bowing or lowering their heads; but their courtship is characterized by a lack of rivalry and vehemence usually exhibited by birds. a male is often accompanied by two females at first, but as soon as his choice is made the rejected bird joins her fortunes with some more impressible swain. during my various seasons spent on the western plains i have frequently seen these phalaropes flying about in trios, consisting of one male and two females, the male always in the lead, as if pursued. females apparently outnumber the males; and, as nest building and incubation are entirely performed by the male, many of the females must remain unattached and unable to breed. i have actually seen the male building the nest and have never been able to flush a female from a set of eggs or a brood of young. w. leon dawson (1923) writes: we have already acknowledged that mrs. wilson wears the breeches and that she is more inclined to club life than she is to household cares. the case is, however, much more serious than we had at first suspected. i owe the original intimation of the true state of affairs to mr. a. o. treganza, the veteran oologist of salt lake city; and subsequent investigation of my own has abundantly confirmed his claims. mrs. wilson is a bigamist. not occasionally, and of course not invariably, but very usually she maintains two establishments. now that attention is called to it, we see that our notebooks are full of references to female phalaropes seen in company with two males. the association can not be accidental, for we are in the very midst of the breeding season. the males, frightened by our presence in the swamp, and not daring to remain longer upon their eggs, have sought the comforting presence of the head of their house. the three take counsel together, and it is only when the redoubtable lady announces that the way is clear that the dutiful cuckolds trail off to their nests. on the 6th and 7th of june, 1922, our m. c. o. party of three members gave close attention to a swamp in long valley, southern mono county, at an altitude of 7,000 feet. we took 11 sets, of four eggs each, of the wilson phalaropes, and we noted a distinct tendency of the nests to group themselves in pairs. in only one instance, however, were we able to trace clearly a connection between two occupied nests. these two, containing heavily incubated eggs, were situated only 42 feet apart, and the two males who were flushed from them by a surprise coup of ours joined themselves immediately to the only female who had shown any solicitude concerning this section of the swamp. _nesting._--the wilson phalarope is regarded by some egg collectors as an exasperating bird, because they have some difficulty in finding its nest. the nest is surprisingly well concealed, often in what seems to be scanty vegetation; and the eggs are good examples of protective coloration. i remember once crossing a moist meadow, covered with short grass which had been mowed the previous season; a male phalarope flushed from almost under foot, i threw down my hat to mark the spot and started hunting for the nest. i hunted in vain, until i gave it up and picked up my hat; there was the nest, with four eggs in it, under the hat and in plain sight. in southwestern saskatchewan in 1905 and 1906, we found some half dozen or more nests of this species, between june 8 and july 13. the nests were on the wet or moist meadows about the lakes and sloughs or on marshy islands; some of the nests were in practically plain sight in short grass; others were more or less well concealed in longer grass, which was sometimes arched over them; they were always difficult to find unless the incubating male was flushed. the nests were merely hollows in the damp ground, three or four inches in diameter, either scantily or well lined with dry grass. doctor nelson (1877) gives a very good description of the behavior of these birds on their nesting grounds, as follows: incubation is attended to by the male alone. the female, however, keeps near, and is quick to give the alarm upon the approach of danger. the females are frequently found at this time in small parties of six or eight; and should their breeding ground be approached, exhibit great anxiety, coming from every part of the marsh to meet the intruder, and, hovering over his head, utter a weak nasal note, which can be heard to only a short distance. the movements of the birds usually render it an easy matter to decide whether or not they have nests in the immediate vicinity. after the first alarm, those having nests at a distance disperse, while the others take their course in the form of an ellipse, sometimes several hundred yards in length, with the object of their suspicion in the center; and, with long strokes of their wings, much like the flight of a killdeer, they move back and forth. as their nests are approached the length of their flight is gradually lessened, until at last they are joined by the males, when the whole party hover low over the intruder's head, uttering their peculiar note of alarm. at this time they have an ingenious mode of misleading the novice, by flying off to a short distance and hovering anxiously over a particular spot in the marsh, as though there were concealed the objects of their solicitation. should they be followed, however, and a search be there made, the maneuver is repeated in another place still farther from the real location of the nest. but should this ruse prove unavailing, they return and seem to become fairly desperate, flying about one's head almost within reach, manifesting great distress. aretas a. saunders writes to me that, in teton county, mont., they nest in small colonies in grassy marshes, where alkaline soil prevents the grass, mainly species of _carex_ and _juncus_, from growing tall. _eggs._--the wilson phalarope almost invariably lays four eggs, rarely only three. the shapes vary from ovate pyriform to ovate and there is a slight gloss. the ground colors vary from "cartridge buff" to "cream buff," rarely "chamois." the ground color is generally well concealed by numerous markings, more or less evenly distributed. some eggs are uniformly covered with small spots and dots, but more often these are mixed with a few larger, irregular blotches. an occasional handsome set is boldly and very heavily blotched, sometimes almost concealing the ground color. the markings are usually in very dark, brownish black or blackish brown. in some handsome sets these dark markings are mixed with "bay" and "auburn" markings. the measurements of 57 eggs average 33 by 23.4 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =36.2= by 23.7, 33 by =25.1=, =30= by 22.5 and 30.5 by =22= millimeters. _young._--the period of incubation does not seem to be known. i can find no evidence that the female ever takes any part in it, but that she does not lose interest in her family is plainly shown by her demonstrations of anxiety when the nest is approached; probably she feels responsible for the faithful performance of his duties by her demure spouse. the male broods over the newly hatched young, protecting them from rain, or excessive heat or cold. but they are soon able to run about in a lively manner and care for themselves. doctor nelson (1877) writes that "the young have a fine, wiry peep, inaudible beyond a few feet." i believe that the young remain in the grassy meadows, where they can hide in safety, and do not take to the water until they are fully fledged. _plumages._--in its natal down the young wilson phalarope is entirely unlike the other phalaropes and quite different from any other young wader. the slender bill and long slender legs and feet are characteristic. it is prettily and distinctively colored also. the prevailing color of the upper parts and of a band across the chest is "ochraceous buff," deepening on the crown, wings, and mantle almost to "ochraceous orange," and paling to buffy or grayish white on the belly and to pure white on the chin and throat. there is a narrow, median, black line on the crown extending nearly or quite to the bill; this is continued in a broad, more or less broken, black stripe down the center of the back to a large black patch on the rump; a black spot on each side of the crown, one on the occiput and several more on wings, thighs, and sides of the back, sometimes run together to form stripes. in fresh juvenal plumage, in july, the feathers of the crown, back, scapulars, tertials, and all wing coverts are dusky or nearly black, broadly edged with "light pinkish cinnamon" or "cinnamon buff," broadest and brightest on the scapulars; the under parts are white, but the throat, sides of the breast and flanks are washed with "pinkish buff," and the last two are mottled with dusky; the central tail feathers are broadly edged with "pinkish buff," bordered inwardly with a broad dusky band, surrounding a white area, with a dusky central streak invading it; the other tail feathers are similarly marked, but less completely patterned. this plumage is worn for only a short time, as the body plumage and tail are molted during the last half of july and in august. by september young birds are in first winter plumage, which is like that of the adult, except that the entire juvenal wing is retained with the buff edgings faded out to white. the sexes are alike in juvenal and all winter plumages. a partial prenuptial molt in the spring, involving the body plumage and most, if not all, of the wing coverts and scapulars, makes the young bird practically adult. adults have a partial prenuptial molt in april and may, involving the tail, the wing coverts and all the body plumage, which produces the well-known brilliant plumage of the female and the duller plumage of the male. the complete postnuptial molt in summer produces the gray winter plumage in both sexes, in which the crown, back, and scapulars are "light drab" or "drab-gray," with narrow white edgings, and the upper tail coverts, as well as the under parts, are white. the sexes can be recognized in adult winter plumage by size only. _food._--the other two species of phalaropes feed mainly on the water, but the wilson phalarope is more of a shore bird and obtains most of its food while walking about on muddy shores or wading in shallow water. it does, however, adopt the whirling tactics of the others occasionally, concerning which mr. dawson (1923) says: instead of swinging from side to side with a rhythmical motion, as do the reds and northerns, the wilson whirls all the way around. moreover, he keeps on whirling, and though he pauses for the fraction of a second to inspect his chances, he goes on and on again like an industrious, mad clock. one bird which i had under the binoculars turned completely around 247 times in one spot, without stopping save for instantaneous dabs at prey. these dabs were directed forward or backward, i. e., with or against the direction of the body motion. a single gyration normally contains two such minute pauses, accompanied by a hitching motion of the head; and these are evidently the periods of maximum attention, since they are followed by, or rather flow into, the prey stroke, if game is sighted. "game" is not always abundant nor certain, and i have seen a bird whirl a dozen times without a single stroke. the method of feeding on mud flats or in shallow water is well described by roland c. ross (1924), as follows: when feeding along the shallows with least, western, and red-backed sandpipers, they differed from them not only in size and color, but in their habit of steady, energetic walking and the constant "side sweeping" with the bill. occasionally they picked objects from the surface with their needle bills, but this was not very actively pursued. in deeper water they fed among the northern phalaropes, knots, and dowitchers, wading along until they swam in places. however, they were able to wade where the northern swam. at such depths they feed with the head clear under and the energy of the feeding operation was indicated by the motion of the tail. they commonly walked steadily back and forth through the deeper sections of the ponds, and in such deep places they moved as headless bodies, evidently feeding as usual in the surface mud. from the vigorous side moves of the tail it would seem they were feeding in their usual manner as well; that is, "side sweeping." when the birds were standing to feed in the deeper places the tail was again much in evidence, and indicated the manner of feeding. this would seem to be a probing motion performed with some rapid vibration which was communicated to the tail as a series of quivers. it is rather a droll sight, and arresting as well, to see a certain area marked out by headless gray bodies buried in the water up to the bend of the wing, the vibrating tail indicating the vigorous operations being carried on down below. it seemed their best feeding was in the deeper waters. the feeding habits of this and the other phalaropes are almost wholly beneficial. they live very largely on the larvae of mosquitoes. they also eat crane-fly larvae, which are often very destructive in grass lands and wheat fields. predaceous diving beetles, which are a nuisance in fish hatcheries, are eaten by them. dr. alexander wetmore's (1925) analysis of the contents of 106 stomachs showed that the food of the wilson phalarope is mainly insects, of which various flies made up 43.1 per cent, aquatic bugs 24.4 per cent and beetles 20.1 per cent. the remainder of the food included brine shrimps, amphipods, eggs of water fleas, and seeds of various aquatic plants. _behavior._--much of the interesting behavior of the wilson phalaropes has been described under different headings above. in all its movements it is light, airy and graceful. its flight is much like that of the lesser yellow legs, with which it is often associated; but, when suddenly alarmed, it sometimes flies hurriedly away in a zigzag fashion. on its breeding grounds it often hovers, almost motionless in the air, as the upland plover sometimes does. it swims lightly and buoyantly, but apparently does not dive. it walks about on land actively and daintily, where it is said to resemble the solitary sandpiper. it mingles freely on its feeding grounds with various other species of shore birds. toward the close of the nesting season the females become very gregarious; as early as june 18, in southern alberta, we saw them in large flocks, mixed with lesser yellow legs, flying about the marshy lakes. _voice._--the only note i have recorded is a soft, nasal grunt or subdued quack. dr. walter p. taylor (1912) describes a peculiar nuptial (?) call note "as _oit_, _oit_, _oit_, somewhat resembling the croak of a toad during the breeding season. at the instant of utterance of the note the bird which is calling raises its head somewhat, pauses momentarily in its flight, and its throat bulges slightly." mr. saunders calls it a low note sounding like _croo_, _croo_, _croo_. e. s. cameron (1907) writes: the wilson's phalaropes, both when feeding and when disturbed and circling on the wing, constantly uttered a low croaking, which at close quarters might be compared to the much louder note of the sandhill cranes, or, at a distance, to the faintly heard barking of a dog. on the other hand, i have heard them give a shrill and totally different call of indecision or satisfaction on their first arrival when hovering over a pool. _field marks._--the wilson is larger than the other phalaropes and has a longer bill, neck, and legs. it can be distinguished from other shore birds by its needlelike bill and small head and by the absence of white in its wings. its spring plumage is, of course, well marked and very beautiful. john t. nichols gives me the following field characters: very rare, but apparently regular on the south shore of long island in southward migration; those that i have known of have all been in pale gray and white plumage occurring singly about the marshes in flocks of the lesser yellow legs. little smaller than that species, they are to be picked out in a flock of same at once by their much paler color. in alighting such a bird may swim on puddles of water between the stubble where the others are wading. at short range the long, straight, very slender bill and indications of a curved "phalarope" mark on the neck, backward and downward from the eye, are to be looked for. large size and long, very slender bill should prevent confusion of this with other phalaropes in the field in any plumage. _fall._--as soon as the young are able to care for themselves the males join the flocks of females and they all depart on their fall migration in august. some individuals wander eastward to the atlantic coast, but the main flight is southward along both coasts of mexico to their winter home in argentina, chile, and patagonia. distribution _range._--north and south america. _breeding range._--the breeding range of wilson's phalarope extends north to washington (bumping lake); alberta (alix, buffalo lake, and edmonton); saskatchewan (osler, quill lake, and indian head); manitoba (moose mountain, brandon, and shoal lake); north dakota (pembina); minnesota (probably leech lake); michigan (st. clair flats); and southern ontario (dunnville). east to southern ontario (dunnville); northern indiana (lake county); northern illinois (west northfield, fox river, and calumet marshes); and formerly missouri (pierce). south to indiana (whiting); missouri (formerly pierce); rarely southern kansas (meade county); colorado (sterling, barr, and san luis valley); southwestern wyoming (fort bridger); northern utah (salt lake city); nevada (washoe lake); and california (tahoe lake and los banos). west to california (los banos, lassen county, and tule lake); oregon (klamath lake); and washington (conconully and bumping lake). it also has been reported in summer from southern california (furnace creek and tulare lake) and from central mexico (lerma). _winter range._--the winter range of the wilson phalarope is very imperfectly known. the few records available come chiefly from south america, but it also has been reported as wintering in mexico (mayorazgo, ixtapalapa, and the city of mexico); rarely southern texas (corpus christi); and in southern california (riverside). south american specimens have been taken or observed at this season in the falkland islands; patagonia (chupat); argentina (mendoza, buenos aires, tucuman, barracas al sud, and missiones); chile (valdivia); bolivia (alto paraguay); peru (ingapirca); and brazil (caicara). _spring migration._--early dates of spring arrival are: missouri, st. louis, april 22, corning, april 23, independence, may 1, and marionville, may 2; illinois, quincy, april 20, chicago, april 21, liter, april 27, fernwood, may 1, and south englewood, may 3; indiana, waterloo, april 27, and kouts, april 30; michigan, ann arbor, april 1, detroit, may 1, and iron mountain, may 2; ontario, toronto, may 25; iowa, emmetsburg, april 24, gilbert station, april 27, marshalltown, may 2, sioux city, may 5, and keokuk, may 6; wisconsin, delavan, april 26, north freedom, april 29, and whitewater, may 6; minnesota, heron lake, may 8, wilder, may 8, hallock, may 9, and waseca, may 12; northern texas, gainesville, may 6, and huntsville, may 7; kansas, emporia, april 23, paola, april 28, onaga, april 29, and wichita, april 30; nebraska, dunbar, april 5, badger, april 18, callaway, april 19, lincoln, april 22, and valentine, may 1; south dakota, harrison, april 29, vermilion, april 29, forestburg, may 1, pitrodie, may 3, and huron, may 4; north dakota, menoken, may 1, bismarck, may 3, charlson, may 4, antler, may 10, cando, may 17, and westhope, may 18; manitoba, oak lake, april 27, shoal lake, may 7, reaburn, may 16, and winnipeg, may 22; saskatchewan, indian head, may 12, dinsmore, may 13, and osier, may 19; new mexico, albuquerque, april 20, and aragon, april 21; arizona, tucson, april 12; colorado, denver, april 25, durango, april 25, loveland, april 27, boulder, may 3, and salida, may 4; wyoming, lake como, may 6, near cokeville, may 7, yellowstone park, may 11, and cheyenne, may 19; idaho, meridian, may 14; montana, billings, april 30, great falls, may 9, fort keogh, may 10, big sandy, may 14, and terry, may 21; alberta, beaverhill lake, may 7, alliance, may 18, veteran, may 22, and stony plain, may 23; california, santa barbara, april 26, unlucky lake, april 28, and stockton, may 2; nevada, steptoe valley, may 12, washoe lake, may 19, and quinn river, may 20; and oregon, klamath lake, april 30, narrows, may 1, and lawen, may 20. _fall migration._--late dates of fall departure are: oregon, malheur lake, september 5; california, santa barbara, september 8, and near san francisco, september 9; montana, milk river, july 21, and great falls, august 15; utah, great salt lake, september 16; wyoming, seven-mile lake, september 14, and yellowstone park, september 27; colorado, denver, september 12; arizona, fort verde, september 7; saskatchewan, ravine bank, august 25; north dakota, grafton, september 11, and westhope, september 24; south dakota, forestburg, august 13, harrison, september 12, and sioux falls, october 14; nebraska, badger, august 30, and gresham, september 1; kansas, emporia, august 31; texas, tivoli, september 14, and corsicana, september 12; minnesota, lanesboro, september 13; michigan, kalamazoo county, september 8; and ontario, near toronto, september 23. _casual records._--although essentially a western species the wilson phalarope has many times been detected in eastern localities. among these are: alabama, bayou la batre, september 5, 1911; south carolina, sullivans island, september 7, 1910; north carolina, near church island, august 25, 1910, and currituck light house, september 14, 1911; new jersey, ocean city, may 19, 1898, and cape may, may 4, 1909; new york, mastic, september 21, 1918, and august 23, 1920, shinnecock, august 20, 1883, and august 15, 1885, far rockaway, october 10, 1874, east river, october 15, 1879, onondaga lake, september 2, 1886, oneida lake, october 6, 1883, ithaca, fall of 1892, atlanticville, august 15, 1885, and june 1, 1887, and bronx park, september 21, 1924; connecticut, bridgeport (linsley); rhode island, newport, august 2, 1880, august 20, 1883 and september 13, 1886, sakonnet, august 24, 1899, and quonochontaug, august 28, 1909; massachusetts, chatham, october 19, 1888, nantucket, august 31, 1889, nahant, may, 1874, salisbury and boston (townsend); new hampshire, rye beach, august 15, 1872; maine, sabattus pond, september or october, 1906, and scarborough, june 9, 1881; and quebec, montreal, august, 1869. it also has been taken in british columbia, chilliwack, september 9, 1888, and osoyoos lake, may 15, 1922 and may 18, 1922. it has been detected a few times in lower california, la paz (date?), and san jose del cabo, one in spring and another in august, 1887. _egg dates._--saskatchewan and alberta: 51 records, may 16 to june 24; 26 records, june 5 to 11. dakotas: 23 records, may 25 to june 22; 12 records, june 3 to 12. colorado and utah: 20 records, may 15 to july 10; 10 records, may 25 to june 8. california: 50 records, may 21 to june 22; 25 records, june 2 to 7. family recurvirostridae, avocets and stilts recurvirostra americana gmelin american avocet habits wherever this large, showy bird is found it is always much in evidence. its large size and conspicuous colors could hardly be overlooked, even if it were shy and retiring; but its bold, aggressive manners force it upon our attention as soon as we approach its haunts. localities and conditions best suited to its needs are still to be found in many places on the great plains and in the interior valleys of the far west. its favorite resorts seem to be the shallow, muddy borders of alkaline lakes, wide open spaces of extensive marshes, where scanty vegetation gives but little concealment, or broad wet meadows splashed with shallow pools. if the muddy pools are covered with reeking scum, attracting myriads of flies, so much the better for feeding purposes. dry, sun-baked mud flats or low, gravelly or sandy islands, with scanty vegetation, furnish the desired nesting conditions. in such open spaces they can be seen from afar and, long before we reach their haunts, the avocets are flying out to meet us, advertising the fact that we are approaching their home, making the air ring with their loud yelping notes of protest, circling about us and darting down at us in threatening plunges. _courtship._--prof. julian s. huxley (1925), who has made a study of the european species, says: the avocet has no courtship. there are no songs or aerial displays; no posturing by the male; no mutual ceremonies; no special courtship notes. there is some hostility and fighting; a peculiar action by the female which is a symbol of readiness to pair, followed by an excited action on the part of the male; and a special post-paring action by both birds; but of courtship in any accepted sense none whatever. however that may be, our bird does indulge in actions and posturings which look very much like courtship. on may 29, 1905, we spent some time in watching the avocets in a colony on an alkali flat covered with a sparse growth of short, curly grass, near hay lake in southwestern saskatchewan. we could not find any nests there at that time and concluded that the birds had not laid. they were apparently still conducting their courtships, wading about gracefully in the shallow water, frequently bowing or crouching down close to the water; sometimes they danced about with wings widespread, tipping from side to side like a balancing tight-rope walker; occasionally one, perhaps a female in an attitude of invitation, would lie prostrate on the ground or water for a minute or more, with the head and neck extended and wings outstretched. frequently they fooled us by squatting down on the ground, as if sitting on a nest; if we went to investigate, they would run away and repeat the act elsewhere; perhaps this act carried the suggestion of mating as a part of the courtship ceremony. _nesting._--we found no large breeding colonies in saskatchewan but several small ones. the hay lake colony referred to above was perhaps the largest, containing 15 or 20 pairs. the nests, found here on june 15, were merely slight hollows in the sun-baked mud on the broad alkali flats bordering the shallow lake; they were scattered widely among the little tufts of short grass which scantily covered the flat; the hollows measured from 3 to 4 inches in diameter and were lined with a few dry grasses. some of the nests were well formed and somewhat elevated. although in plain sight, the eggs were not easy to find, as they matched their surroundings perfectly. on june 14, 1906, we found an interesting little colony of avocets on an island in big stick lake, saskatchewan, which was also occupied by big colonies of california and ring-billed gulls, common terns, a few spotted sandpipers, and a few pairs of ducks. the avocets, terns, and sandpipers were all at one end of the island, a low grassy point; the ring-billed gulls and ducks were in the central, highest part; and the california gull colony was at the other end. the avocets' nests, ten or a dozen of them, were placed in the short grass near the edge of the beach or on the drift weed lying in windrows on the beach; one nest was partially under a fallen shrub or bushy weed. the nests were made of grasses, weed stems, straws and small sticks, with sometimes a few feathers, loosely arranged around small hollows, from 5 to 7 inches in diameter. two of the nests held five eggs, the others three or four. robert b. rockwell (1912) found an interesting colony of avocets on an island in barr lake, colo., of which he says: the nests were all located in very similar locations, among a young growth of cockle burrs not over six inches in height and which had probably grown at least half of that since the eggs were laid. the cockle burrs formed a belt about 10 yards wide clear around the island just below the dense blue-stem and other rank grass with which the island was covered and on ground that was under water during the high water of the spring although inundated for a short time only. two of the nests were very crude affairs, being a mere shallow hollow in the sand with a very few dead weed stalks of short lengths arranged around the eggs. the other was constructed in the same manner, but was quite well lined with weed stems, so that the eggs did not touch the ground. there was no evident attempt at concealment, the nests all being placed in small open spaces from six inches to a foot in diameter, and with nothing to protect them; but the color of the eggs was sufficient protection to make them quite inconspicuous. dr. alexander wetmore (1925) writes: the sites chosen often are subject to inundation by sudden floods, when the birds scurry about, seemingly in confusion, but in reality working actively to build up the nest in order to support the eggs above the level of the encroaching water. in some cases it may be necessary to erect a structure 12 or 15 inches in height. weeds, small sticks, bones, or dried bodies of ducks or other birds, feathers, or any other materials available are utilized as building materials. _eggs._--the american avocet lays three or four eggs, usually four and occasionally five. numerous nests have been found containing seven or eight eggs, but these are probably products of two females. edwin beauprã© writes to me that, in a colony of five pairs found by him on an island in a small lake in southern alberta, the five pairs were occupying three nests; one contained eight eggs, another seven and the third four. the eggs vary in shape from ovate (rarely) to ovate pyriform and they are usually much elongated. the shell is smooth, but not glossy. the ground color varies from "isabella color" to "deep olive buff." this is more or less evenly covered with irregular spots and blotches, in various sizes, of brownish black, blackish brown, or black, rarely "warm sepia" or "bister"; there are occasionally a few blackish scrawls, and numerous underlying spots of various shades of drab. the measurements of 55 eggs average 49.8 by 34 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =56.3= by 34.6, 51.5 by =36.6=, =43.2= by 33.4 and 47 by =31= millimeters. _young._--the period of incubation of the american bird has apparently not been determined, but that of the european bird is said to be 28 days. i have no data as to how the sexes incubate. young avocets are very precocial and leave the nest soon after hatching. they are expert at hiding, even on the open flats and beaches; and they take to the water at an early age, where they can swim and dive like young ducks. i have seen a brood of four young, that could not have been hatched more than a few hours, swimming out in a lake, as if very much at ease. they soon learn to tip up in shallow water and probe on the bottom, like their parents, for their insect food. _plumages._--the downy young avocet is well colored for concealment on an open beach or alkaline flat. the colors of the upper parts are "cinnamon buff," "cream buff," and buffy grays, lightest on the crown and darkest on the rump; there is a distinct but narrow loral stripe of black; the crown is indistinctly spotted with dusky. two parallel stripes of brownish black distinctly mark the scapulars and two more the sides of the rump; the wings, back, rump, and thighs are less distinctly spotted or peppered with gray and dusky. the under parts are buffy white, nearly pure white on the throat and belly. in fresh juvenal plumage the crown is "light drab" with "pinkish buff" tips; the sides and back of the neck are deep, rich "cinnamon," deeper and richer than in the adult, shading off, on the upper back, throat, and upper breast, to a suffusion of "pinkish buff"; the chin and belly are white; the color pattern of the upper parts is similar to that of the adult, except that the dark feathers of the back, scapulars, and tertials are tipped with "pinkish buff"; and the greater and median wing coverts are narrowly so tipped. this plumage is worn through the summer and fall without much change except by extensive fading and some wear. the cinnamon has nearly disappeared in september birds and all the buff edgings have faded or worn away. a body molt takes place in late winter or early spring which produces a first nuptial plumage much like the adult. young birds can, however, be recognized by the worn primaries and by some of the juvenal scapulars and wing coverts. the first postnuptial molt, the following summer, is complete and produces the adult winter plumage. adults have a complete postnuptial molt, beginning in august, and a partial prenuptial molt, beginning in january, which involves the body plumage and some of the scapulars and wing coverts. the "cinnamon" colors of the head and neck are characteristic of the nuptial plumage and are replaced by pale gray in winter adults. _food._--the feeding habits of the avocet are rather peculiar, as might be expected of a bird with such a peculiar bill. the bill is not so sharply upturned in life, as it is in some stuffed specimens and in some drawings. dr. frank m. chapman (1891) has explained it very well, as follows: the use of the avocet's recurved bill is clearly explained by the manner in which the bird procures its food. in feeding they wade into the water and drop the bill below the surface until the convexity of the maxilla probably touches the bottom. in this position they move forward at a half run and with every step the bill is swung from side to side sweeping through an arc of about 50â° in search of shells and other small aquatic animals. the mandibles are slightly opened, and at times the birds pause to swallow their prey. it is evident that birds with a straight or a downward curved bill could not adopt this method of feeding. audubon (1840) describes it, as follows: they search for food precisely in the manner of the roseate spoonbill, moving their heads to and fro sideways, while their bill is passing through the soft mud; and in many instances, when the water was deeper, they would immerse their whole head and a portion of the neck, as the spoonbill and red-breasted snipe are wont to do. when, on the contrary, they pursued aquatic insects, such as swim on the surface, they ran after them, and on getting up to them, suddenly seized them by thrusting the lower mandible beneath them, while the other was raised a good way above the surface, much in the manner of the black shear water, which, however, performs this act on wing. they were also expert at catching flying insects, after which they ran with partially expanded wings. doctor wetmore (1925) found that, in 67 stomachs examined, animal food amounted to 65.1 per cent and vegetable food 34.9 per cent. among the animal food were found phyllopods, dragonfly nymphs, back swimmers, water boatmen, various beetles and flies and their larvae. the vegetable matter consisted largely of seeds of marsh or aquatic plants. he says further: flocks of the birds search for food scattered about in shallow water, and do not hesitate to swim when necessary in crossing the deeper channels. frequently a dozen or more feed in company, walking slowly along, shoulder to shoulder, as though in drill formation, at each forward step thrusting the head under water and sweeping the recurved bill along the bottom with a scythelike swing that must arouse consternation among water boatmen and other aquatic denizens of the bays and ponds. at times the writer has observed as many as 300 of these handsome birds feeding thus in a single company, a scene at once spirited and striking. as the birds feed much of the time by immersing the head, anything that may touch the bill is gathered indiscriminately, as in feeding they depend upon the sense of touch. from their manner of feeding, avocets are often scavengers, taking living or recently dead prey without much choice. the large tapeworms found almost without fail in the duodenum of the avocet are transmitted from one bird to another in this manner. the cast-off terminal segments of the worms (bearing the eggs) are picked up and swallowed by other avocets, a proceeding which the writer has personally observed. avocets also pick up matter floating in the water, on or near the surface, or take insects and seeds from mud bars. the insects may be those living in such localities or may be individuals that have been washed up in drift. other observers have reported avocets as feeding on grasshoppers, predaceous diving beetles, crickets, centipedes, weevils, small snails, sea slugs, small crustaceans, and even small fishes. _behavior._--avocets are at all times tame and unsuspicious, very solicitous and aggressive on their breeding grounds, quiet and indifferent at other times, showing only mild curiosity. their demonstrations of anxiety on their nesting grounds, particularly if they have young, are amusing and ludicrous. utterly regardless of their own safety, they meet the intruder more than half way and stay with him till he leaves. w. leon dawson (1909) has described it very graphically, as follows: the mother bird had flushed at a hundred yards, but seeing our position she flew toward us and dropped into the water some 50 feet away. here she lifted a black wing in simulation of maimed stiffness, and flopped and floundered away with the aid of the other one. seeing that the ruse failed, she ventured nearer and repeated the experiment, lifting now one wing and now both in token of utter helplessness. after a while the male joined her, and we had the painful spectacle of a crippled family, whose members were uttering most doleful cries of distress, necessitated apparently by their numerous aches and breaks. once, for experiment's sake, we followed, and the waders flopped along in manifest delight coaxing us up on shore and making off through the sagebrush with broken legs and useless wings. but we came back, finding it better to let the birds make the advances. the birds were driven to the very limit of frenzy, dancing, wing trailing, swaying, going through last convulsions and beginning over again without regard to logical sequence, all in an agony of effort to divert attention from those precious eggs. as time elapsed, however, the color of the play changed. finding that the appeal of cupidity was of no avail, the birds appeared to fall back upon the appeal to pity. decoying was useless, that was plain; so they stood with upraised wings, quivering and moaning, in tenderest supplication. it was too much even for conscious rectitude and we withdrew abashed. the flight of the avocet is strong, direct and rather swift, much like that of the greater yellow legs, with neck and legs fully extended, fore and aft. it can alight on or rise from the surface of the water with ease. on alighting its long, black and white wings are raised above its back, and slowly folded, as it settles itself with a nodding motion of the head, stands still and looks about it for a moment or two. no bird is better equipped for the amphibious existence that it leads; its long legs and webbed feet enable it to wade through soft muddy shallows of varying depths; and if it suddenly steps beyond its depth it swims as naturally as a duck until it strikes bottom again; the thick plumage of its under parts protects it and marks it as an habitual swimmer. it often feeds while swimming by tipping up like a surface-feeding duck and reaching down into the water with its long neck and bill. it can even dive when necessary. dr. walter p. taylor (1912) says that avocets "share with most other birds a dislike of owls. three were seen pursuing a _speotyto_ over a wild hay meadow." dr. t. gilbert pearson (1916) noted an interesting flight maneuver: only a few weeks ago i was impressed anew with the beauty of these birds. while passing down the valley of crane creek, in southeastern oregon, a flock of about 50 avocets arose and indulged in a series of evolutions which even the most casual observer would have paused to watch. in a fairly compact company they flew away for a short distance, then turned, and, after coming back almost to the starting point, dived toward the earth, arose again perhaps 50 yards in the air, then swung around and came back. these maneuvers were repeated at least three times. their white and black plumage, flashing against the gray sagebrush of the desert mountain side, and sharply relieved as they skimmed over the alkaline creek, made a picture long to be remembered. charles e. h. aiken (1914) witnessed a curious performance of avocets in utah. in september, 1893, he visited the mouth of bear river where hundreds of acres of mud flats and shallow water offer an attractive resort for various water fowl. in a submerged grove where patches of mud appeared above the water hundreds of avocets were congregated. one little mud island that differed from others in that it was quite round seemed to have a fascination for the birds, and they were packed together upon it in a mass which covered the island to the water's edge. as the island was about 12 feet in circumference the number of birds probably approximated 150. this mass of birds continued to revolve about from left to right, and being so crowded the movement was rather slow and their steps short and measured, so that the impression was that they were all marking time in the marching. birds on the rim of the circle avoided walking off in the water and crowded inward against the mass. every moment or two birds would leave the milling body and fly to a neighboring mud island, and as many from near-by would fly to take their places and join the dance. aiken advanced quietly to within 20 yards and viewed them for half an hour, but they continued undisturbed by his presence and he left them so. it appeared to be a diversion of the birds. john g. tyler contributes the following: the avocet is evidently possessed of a very keen sense of hearing. on may 21, 1921, i discovered three or four pairs in an overflowed pasture not far from fresno. driving my car up to within about 100 feet of them i allowed my engine to die and sat perfectly motionless. in about 15 minutes the birds had become thoroughly accustomed to my presence and one bird finally took up a position on a small levee, tucked its bill under the feathers of its back, closed its eyes, and after raising the right leg and drawing it up close to the body, stood absolutely motionless and apparently asleep for several minutes. it was very much awake, however, for when i whistled softly through my teeth, making a rather squeaking noise, it immediately straightened up, opened its eyes, and gazed about in apparent astonishment. as i remained motionless the bird soon settled down and in the course of the next few moments i repeated the same experiment always with the same results. so long as one remains seated in the automobile and makes no noticeable movement it is possible to make close observation of these and several other species of shore birds, but the slightest movement or an attempt to get out of the car sends them away in the wildest confusion. _voice._--the avocet's vocabulary is not so elaborate as it is impressive. the commonest note, heard on the breeding grounds as a note of alarm or protest, is a loud, shrill whistle or yelping scream, which i have recorded in my notes as _wheat, wheat, wheat_. others have recorded it as _plee-eek, plee-eek_, or _click, click, click_. it is always sharp and vehement, implying anger. i have also heard a softer note, uttered in a conversational tone, like _whick, whick, whick_, or _whuck, whuck, whuck_. aretas a. saunders contributes the following notes: about the nest colony the adults flew closely about my head, calling a short staccato call that sounded like _pink, pink, pink_. one bird pretended wounded in a different manner from what i have seen it done by other species. the bird sat on the water, dropped its head and neck down to the surface, half spread its wings, also dropping them on the water, and, lying almost still, called _oo-oo, oo-oo, oo-oo_, over and over, as though suffering great pain. the voice was low and not very loud, and not at all like the _pink, pink_ of the other birds. _field marks._--the avocet, in its striking color pattern of black and white, could not be mistaken for anything else. a white tail, a black v on a white back, black wings with white secondaries and blue legs are all distinctive marks; the buff head and neck are nuptial adornments; in fall and winter these parts are grayish white. from the stilt it can be distinguished by its much stockier build, the absence of black on head and neck and by blue instead of pink legs. _game._--although it is a large, plump bird and would help to fill a game bag, there is no excuse for treating it as a game bird. it is so tame and so foolishly inquisitive that it would offer poor sport and would soon be exterminated. furthermore its flesh is said to be worthless for the table. but above all, it is such a showy, handsome and interesting bird, that it ought to be preserved for future generations to enjoy. the destruction of its breeding grounds will exterminate it soon enough, as it has already been extirpated from its former range in the eastern states. distribution _range._--north america to northern central america. _breeding range._--the breeding range of the avocet extends north to washington (moses lake and probably walla walla); northern idaho (pend oreille); alberta (red deer, buffalo lake, and flagstaff); saskatchewan (osler, quill lake, and touchwood hills); north dakota (kenmare and cando); minnesota (brown's valley, traverse county); and wisconsin (green bay). east to wisconsin (green bay); western iowa (sioux city); central kansas (larned and dodge); and rarely to southern texas (corpus christi and isabel). south rarely to southern texas (isabel and brownsville); new mexico (chloride); northern utah (salt lake city); nevada (ruby valley and probably cloverdale); and southern california (little owens lake, kerrville, and santa ana). west to california (santa ana, santa cruz island, buena vista lake, tulare lake, los banos, stockton, amedee, tule lake, and brownell); oregon (adel, plush, sumner lake, and christmas lake); and washington (moses lake). it has been recorded in summer north to british columbia (okanagan landing); manitoba (brandon); and new york (ithaca); while there also is an old breeding record for egg harbor, new jersey. _winter range._--north to carolina (novato and stockton); and texas (houston). east to texas (houston, corpus christi, and brownsville); tamaulipas (matamoros); and guatemala (chiapam). south to guatemala (chiapam); and sinaloa (escuinapa). west to sinaloa (escuinapa and mazatlan); lower california (san jose del cabo and la paz); and california (san diego, morro bay, san francisco, and novato.) _spring migration._--early dates of arrival are: nebraska, whitman, april 13, long pine, april 27, alda, may 2, and lincoln, may 5; south dakota, pitrodie, april 28, huron, may 6, and aberdeen, may 15; north dakota, marstonmoor, april 28; manitoba, margaret, may 5; saskatchewan, fort carlston, may 4, and dinsmore, may 9; arizona, ehrenburg, february 12, and tucson, april 21; new mexico, albuquerque, april 14; colorado, loveland, april 9; and denver, april 25; utah, salt lake city, april 27; wyoming, huttons lake, april 21, lake como, april 22, and cheyenne, april 24; idaho, deer flat, february 15, and rupert, april 26; montana, great falls, april 18, fort custer, april 26, terry, may 1, billings, may 3, and big sandy, may 18; alberta, beaverhill lake, april 28, and flagstaff, may 14; nevada, ash meadows, march 15; oregon, klamath falls, march 26, narrows, april 11, malheur lake, april 17, and lawen, april 19. avocets have been noted at lake palomas, chihuahua, on april 7, and at gardner's laguna, lower california, on april 22. _fall migration._--late dates of departure are: oregon, forest grove, september 28, malheur lake, october 26, and klamath lake, november 6; alberta, veteran, september 8; montana, fort custer, september 9, and great falls, october 2; idaho, rupert, october 21; wyoming, fort bridger, october 10; utah, provo, november 26; colorado, denver, october 3, and mosca, october 20; new mexico, glenrio, october 11, las palomas, october 12, and mesilla park, november 9; manitoba, margaret, september 15; south dakota, harrison, october 28; wisconsin, waupaca county, october 21; nebraska, gresham, september 10, long pine, october 9, and lincoln, october 27; and kansas, emporia, august 25. the arrival of avocets in the fall has been noted in the valley of mexico in august and september. _casual records._--the avocet has on a number of occasions been reported or taken at points far outside of its normal range. some of these records are: cuba, once in the market at havana and at cardenas in august; jamaica, reported in winter; barbados, one in the fall of 1880 and again on october 1, 1888; florida, one killed at palm beach inlet in 1916; georgia, st. marys, october 8, 1903; north carolina, six noted at fort macon on september 12, 1870; virginia, two taken at wallops island in september, 1925; new jersey, barnegat, may 30, 1880; new york, ponquoque, one in 1844, carnarsie bay, one in 1847, long beach, may 20, 1877, near tuckerton, last of august, 1886, renwick, september 16, 1909, and ithaca, september 16, 1909; connecticut, near saybrook, 1871; massachusetts, three at ipswich neck, september 13, 1896, lake cochituate, october 19, 1880, natick, october 29, 1880, and salisbury, may 23, 1887; vermont, st. albans, fall of 1875; maine, cape elizabeth, november 5, 1878, and calais, spring of 1862; new brunswick, quaco, in 1880; louisiana, new orleans, november 12, 1889, and november 7, 1819, derniere island, april 16, 1837, and johnsons bayou, november 26, 1882; arkansas, a specimen was taken some time previous to 1847; missouri, st. louis, october 28, 1878, and stotesbury, april 8, 1894; illinois, st. clair county, october 28, 1878, and two at chicago, may 5, 1889; indiana, one was taken at calumet lake; ohio, st. marys reservoir, november 10, 1882, oberlin, november 4, 1907, and march 16 to 21, 1907, sandusky, may 24, 1914, and near columbus, november 10, 1882; michigan, st. clair flats, in 1874; ontario, toronto, last of may, 1881 and september 19, 1901; mackenzie, birch lake, july 15, 1910, and fort rae; british columbia, okanagan, april 28, 1908, and mouth of the fraser river, october 20, 1915. avocets also have been reported from greenland, but the records lack confirmation. _egg dates._--saskatchewan: 27 records, may 18 to june 16; 14 records, may 29 to june 14. utah: 52 records, april 10 to june 15; 26 records, may 6 to 16. california: 35 records, april 22 to june 25; 18 records, may 5 to 29. himantopus mexicanus (mã¼ller) black-necked stilt habits although i first met the black-necked stilt in the florida keys in 1903, it was not until i visited the irrigated regions of the san joaquin valley in california in 1914, that i saw this curious bird living in abundance and flourishing in most congenial surroundings. it was a pleasant change from the cool, damp air of the coast region to the clear, dry warmth of this highly cultivated valley. the naturally arid plains between the distant mountain ranges had been transformed by irrigation into fertile fields of alfalfa and wheat, vast areas had been flooded with water from the melting snows of the sierras, forming grazing lands for herds of cattle and endless marshes, wet meadows, ponds and creeks, for various species of water birds. as w. leon dawson (1923) puts it: the magic touch of water following its expected channels quickens an otherwise barren plain into a paradise of avian activities. ducks of six or seven species frequent the deeper channels; coots and gallinules and pied-billed grebes crowd the sedgy margins of the ponds; herons, bitterns, ibises, and egrets, seven species of _herodiones_, all told, occupy the reedy depths of the larger ponds or deploy over the grassy levels. rails creak and titter, red wings clink, yellow-headed blackbirds gurgle, wrangle, and screech; while the marsh wrens, familiar spirits of the maze, sputter and chuckle over their quaint basketry. the tricolored blackbirds, also in great silent companies recruited from a hundred acres, charge into their nesting covert with a din of uncanny preoccupation. over the open ponds black terns hover, and forster terns flit with languid ease. the killdeer is not forgotten, nor the burrowing owl, whose home is in the higher knolls; but over all and above all and through all comes the clamor of the black-necked stilt and the american avocet. of all these birds, the stilts were the most conspicuous in the wet meadows about los banos, where they were always noisy and aggressive. i have never seen them so abundant elsewhere, though i have seen them in similar situations in florida and texas, on extensive wet meadows where shallow water fills the hollows between myriads of little muddy islets and tufts of grass. here they can wade about and feed in the water or build their nests on the hummocks above high-water mark, and here their young can hide successfully among the grassy tufts. _nesting._--my first glimpse of a black-necked stilt was a complete surprise, and my first nest was in an unexpected situation. on may 8, 1903, we landed on lake key, in the florida keys, a low flat, open island with sandy shores and a lake in the middle of it. we walked across the beach, through a narrow strip of low red mangrove bushes and came to a little muddy pond, very shallow and dotted with little mangrove seedlings. here we were delighted to see about half a dozen black-necked stilts, long slender birds, very striking in appearance and actions, the jet black wings contrasting finely with the pure white under parts and the long pink legs trailing behind. they seemed so much concerned, so unwilling to leave, and kept up such an incessant racket, that we felt sure that they were nesting there. a short search soon revealed two of their nests, both very conspicuously placed. the first nest, containing four quite heavily incubated eggs, was very prettily located under a little red mangrove root, just as it entered the ground; a hollow had been scraped in the sand and profusely lined with small bits of shell and pieces of dry sticks. the second nest was in plain sight on the open beach of finely broken shell in a small colony of least terns' nests, the three dark-colored eggs showing up very conspicuously on the white sand. the nest cavity measured six inches outside and four inches inside and was lined with pieces of shell, sticks, and fish bones, an odd and uncomfortable bed for the young. besides the least terns, wilson plovers were nesting close by, rather an unusual association for the marsh-loving stilts. gilbert r. rossignol writes to me of a colony of some 23 nests that he found in a somewhat similar location on an island in lake kissimmee, florida, on april 14, 1908. "the nests were all built high upon the gravelly beach and were lined with bits of fresh-water snails." this colony was wiped out later by a rise of water in the lake. herbert w. brandt has sent me some notes on this species as he found it breeding in kleberg county, texas, on may 28, 1919. he found seven nests in a colony of about ten pairs on "a watery, marshy meadow covering about a square mile, the water being 6 to 12 inches deep." he describes one of the nests as "composed of sticks made up into a floating platform, about four inches high and well made. the lining was small sticks and the top basin shallow and nicely made. the water, exceedingly high from recent rains, was up to the eggs, so that the nest was wet." i saw a similar colony near brownsville, tex. near los banos, california, stilts were nesting all over the flooded meadows, on little hummocks, on the muddy islands, and along the margins of ponds. on the drier shores and banks the nests were very simple structures, hollows in the ground, lined with small twigs, weed stems, and grasses; but in the wet places, where they were liable to be flooded, they were quite elaborately elevated to considerable heights. mr. dawson (1923) writes: it is when the water rises that the birds rise to the occasion, and get busy with nest building. sedges, sticks, water plants with clinging soil, anything movable, is seized and forced under the threatened eggs. indeed, so apprehensive is the bird of the growing necessity, that as often as she leaves the nest she will seize loose material and fling it over her shoulder for future use. the eggs themselves, protectively colored in bister and black, are mauled about and soiled in the mud; but the day is saved. i have seen a stilt, painfully conscious no doubt, squatted on a truncated cone of vegetation 8 inches in height and as broad across the top, a veritable noah's ark of safety. john g. tyler (1913) says: nesting colonies of these waders in the fresno district are never very large, consisting of from 6 to 20 pairs, as a rule, the most extensive one of which i have any knowledge containing an average of about 30 pairs each season. possibly the numerous small ponds will not support a great many birds, and as suitable pastures abound in certain sections it is not a difficult matter for all the birds to be accommodated without any crowding. as these nesting colonies of stilts are invariably in pastures with cattle tramping everywhere over the fields, it seems almost a miracle that any of the eggs escape being destroyed; and yet i have not one iota of positive proof of such a disaster ever overtaking a stilt's nest, while in many instances i have known the eggs to hatch safely almost under the feet of stock. it is known that few animals will purposely step on any living object of a size large enough to be noticed, and the writer is convinced that a stilt simply remains on her nest and by her vociferousness and possibly even with a few vigorous thrusts of her long bill causes a grazing cow to direct her course away from the nest. a lack of judgment causes many nests to be abandoned each year, and a colony of stilts that are not able to distinguish between a permanent pond and one that has been caused by irrigation is liable to find that by the time sets of eggs are complete the water has disappeared and a new nesting site must be chosen. fortunately the larger colonies always seem to be located near the permanent ponds, but there are numerous scattering pairs that are deceived each summer. i have often been surprised at the great diversity of nesting sites, even in the same colony, it being not an unusual occurrence to find nests entirely surrounded by water--little islands of mud and sticks often built up out of water several inches deep. not less common are the platforms of dried grass placed just at the water's edge, or the slight excavations that, killdeerlike, are placed on the bare ground a hundred yards or more from the nearest water. in one colony the majority of the nests were built on a levee that extended through the pond and were so near the waters edge that, although most of the nests were quite elaborate platforms of dry grass and twigs, the lower parts of the eggs were wet. undoubtedly a high wind would have caused the wavelets to break over the levee. at this same place there were several nests far out on the open dry ground without even a spear of grass for concealment or protection, and with hardly a vestige of nesting material under the eggs. at one pond where two pairs had taken up summer quarters there was one nest on the bare black ground where the white breast of the sitting female was the most conspicuous object imaginable and could be seen at a glance from a distance of three or four hundred feet. in direct contrast was the other nest; for it was artfully hidden among rather rank salt grass some distance from the pond, and when the sitting bird flattened herself upon it, as is the custom of this species when endeavoring to escape observation, she might have readily been overlooked from any near-by point. the actions of different pairs of stilts when their nesting colonies are invaded are also variable. sometimes a flock of noisy screeching birds will press close about the intruder, some hanging in the air on rapidly beating wings, others bouncing along the ground by leaps and bounds, raising and lowering their wings continually; while others go through every conceivable motion both on the ground and in the air. it seems that the larger the colony the more demonstrative the birds are; for in several instances where only one or two pairs were breeding the female would sneak from the nest in a guilty manner and quietly join her mate on the opposite side of the pond, where they would remain almost motionless or feed nervously along the margin of the pond. _eggs._--four eggs are usually laid by the black-necked stilt, sometimes five, rarely seven, and occasionally only three. the shape is ovate, often somewhat pointed, and there is little, if any, gloss. the ground color is dull "honey yellow," with an olivaceous tinge, or "cream buff." the eggs are irregularly spotted or covered with small blotches of brownish black or black. sometimes there are a few blackish scrawls and usually a few underlying small spots of drab. they are often stained with mud. the measurements of 75 eggs, in the united states national museum, average 44 by 30.5 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =48= by 30, 47 by =32=, =40.5= by 30, and 46 by =28= millimeters. _young._--incubation is shared by both sexes, but we have no accurate information as to its duration. mr. dawson (1923) says: the infant can make shift to shuffle away from the nest and into cover within the hour, if need be, but he can not negotiate his stilts until several hours have elapsed after hatching; and he feels decidedly pale and tottery, like a young colt, until the day after. dr. frank m. chapman (1908) writes: on may 23, their eggs were hatching, and in june the snipelike young were widely distributed over the marsh. they invariably attempted to escape observation by squatting with neck outstretched, but the parents, whether one approached their eggs or young, expressed their solicitude by a surprising extravagance of motion, all apparently designed to draw attention to themselves. i was at times surrounded by hopping, fluttering stilts, all calling loudly, waving their wings, bounding into the air to hang there with dangling legs and beating pinions, and executing other feats which would have done credit to acrobatic marionettes. dr. alexander wetmore (1925) says: the young grow rapidly, and the increase in the length of their legs is amazing. until the bones are well formed the young, when not feeding, prefer to rest with the full length of the tarsus extended on the ground, but even then appear as tall as other shore birds of similar body size. stilts show considerable attachment for their young, and, unless dispersed by some untoward accident, frequently remain in family groups long after the young are able to care for themselves. as the latter become strong on the wing the family parties range over the country in search of suitable feeding grounds. as the nights grow cold in the north the birds band together in larger flocks and finally on some moonlit night in september, young and old may be heard calling as they pass overhead on their southward migration. _plumages._--robert ridgway (1919) describes the downy young stilt as follows: upper parts light buffy grayish mottled with dusky, the back and rump with several large blotches of black; head, neck, and under parts buffy whitish or brownish white, the crown, occiput, and hind neck grayish, the crown with a mesial streak of black, the occiput with several irregular spots of the same. the juvenal plumage appears first on the scapulars, back and breast; and the tail is the last to appear. the young bird is fully feathered, except the tail, by the time it is two-thirds grown. in fresh juvenal plumage the color pattern is much like that of the adult female; the crown, hind neck, back and wings are brownish black, all the feathers being edged or tipped with "cinnamon"; the edgings are narrowest on the head, upper back and wing coverts, and broadest on the scapulars and tertials; the face, sides of the head and all under parts are white; the central tail feathers are dusky and the others are white, washed with dusky near the tip, and all tipped with pinkish buff. this plumage is worn all through the fall and winter, with no change except by wear and fading; before winter the edgings have largely disappeared. a partial prenuptial molt of the body plumage occurs in early spring, when young birds become indistinguishable from adults, except for some retained juvenal wing coverts. adults probably have a partial prenuptial molt in early spring and a complete postnuptial molt in late summer, but there are no well marked seasonal differences in plumage. _food._--doctor wetmore (1925) writes: stilts feed by picking up insects on muddy shores or in shallow water, and though not averse to frequenting alkaline areas, on the whole prefer fresher water than do avocets. for detailed analysis, 80 stomachs of the black-necked stilt were available, distributed from march to august, and collected in california, utah, florida, and porto rico. vegetable food in these amounted to only 1.1 per cent, whereas the animal matter formed 98.9 per cent. the birds are adept in seizing rapidly moving prey and in general are very methodical in their manner of obtaining food. gravel is picked up to some extent to aid digestion, and part of the seeds taken may have been swallowed for the same purpose. the animal food consisted mainly of insects, aquatic bugs and beetles making up the largest items; dragonfly nymphs, caddisflies, mayfly nymphs, flies, billbugs, mosquito larvae, and grasshoppers were included. crawfishes, snails, and a few tiny fishes were eaten. the vegetable food consisted mainly of a few seeds of aquatic and marsh plants. _behavior._--the flight of the stilt is steady and direct, but not particularly swift; the bill is held straight out in front and the legs are extended backwards, giving the bird a long, slim appearance. over their eggs or young, stilts sometimes hover on steadily beating wings with dangling legs. in their excitement they sometimes climb up into the air and make startling dives. but stilts are essentially waders; for wading they are highly specialized, and here they show to best advantage. at times they seem a bit wabbly on their absurdly long and slender legs, notably when trembling with excitement over the invasion of their breeding grounds. but really they are expert in the use of these well-adapted limbs, and one can not help admiring the skillful and graceful way in which they wade about in water breast deep, as well as on dry land, in search of their insect prey. the legs are much bent at each step, the foot is carefully raised and gently but firmly planted again at each long stride. the legs are so long that when the bird is feeding on land it is necessary to bend the legs backward to enable the bill to reach the ground. stilts can swim and even dive if necessary, but they are very awkward at both, as might be expected with such long legs and the absence of webbed feet; they never indulge in either action except in cases of dire necessity. they are usually gentle and unsuspicious birds, much more easily approached than most large waders. on their breeding grounds they are especially fearless and demonstrative. some of their amusing antics are well described by mr. dawson (1923) as follows: while all are shouting lustily, the birds whose nests are more immediately threatened are doing decoy stunts of several fascinating sorts. the favorite line of effort is the broken-leg act, in which the bird collapses suddenly, as though one of its little pipestem legs had snapped in two. the act is performed with such sincerity, even when the bird is standing in only an inch or so of water, that it never ceases to be amusing. moreover, the trick is repeated diligently every few feet, so that it begins to look as though the bird had taken some fakir vow to prostrate itself every third or fourth step. the avocet, now that one thinks of it, does the same thing; but it does it awkwardly or, as it were, cautiously, and so unconvincingly. it has manifestly copied from its more agile neighbor. the second line of effort, most faithfully pursued, is wing fluttering. in this, again, the stilt is rather the mistress. it has perfected a trick of putting up one wing at a time and letting the wind tousle it about, as though it were really broken. of course it also flutters both wings, and goes through other nondescript flopping and fluttering performances, such as are common to the family of shore birds. _voice._--my first impression of the note as heard on the breeding grounds was recorded as a loud, guttural _whuck, whuck, whuck_; at other times it has seemed harsh and shrill. audubon (1840) referred to their ordinary notes as "a whistling cry, different from the _cleek, cleek, cleek_, which they emit when they have nests or young." c. j. maynard (1896), speaking of the breeding season, says: "the note at this time was quite different from that given earlier in the season, as they now uttered short syllables sounding like _put, put, put_, repeated rapidly, that of the males being harsh, while the females gave it shriller and more continuous." _fall._--stuart t. danforth (1925), who made some studies of a breeding colony of stilts in porto rico, thus describes their departure in the fall: by the latter part of june the adults had begun to flock again, and by the middle of september all the stilts at the lagoon (155 by actual count) had formed one compact flock. this count was made on september 17. by september 20 only about 50 were left; on september 23 there were 20; on september 27 and september 30, 16; on october 7, 5. after that none were seen. distribution _range._--the united states, and central and south america. _breeding range._--north to oregon (klamath lake, burns and malheur lake); utah (brigham and salt lake city); colorado (san luis lake and fort garland); louisiana (black bayou, calcasieu, abbeville, and vermilion bay); and florida (titusville). east to florida (titusville, cape canaveral, kissimmee, eden, and lake hicpoche); the bahama islands (andros, inagua and green cay); cuba (manzanillo); porto rico (guanica lagoon); venezuela (lagoon of savonet and curacao); peru (upper ucayali river); and probably ecuador (guayaquil). south to probably ecuador (guayaquil); and probably the galapagos islands (chatham and albemarle islands). west probably, to the galapagos islands (albemarle island); probably nicaragua (momotombo); probably oaxaca (tehuantepec); tamaulipas (tampico and matamoras); probably lower california (san quintin bay); california (santa ana, los angeles, castac lake, buena vista lake, alila, tulare lake, fresno, los banos, stockton, sutter county, and tule lake); and oregon (klamath lake). there also is a breeding record for saskatchewan (fort qu'appelle, june 13, 1894). _winter range._--the black-necked stilt is no doubt resident throughout most or all of its breeding range in central and south america. at this season it has been detected north to lower california (san jose del cabo, santiago, and cape san lucas); sinaloa (mazatlan and escuinapa); tamaulipas (matamoras); texas (brownsville and refugio county); rarely louisiana (grand chenier); florida (fort myers); and porto rico. _spring migration._--early dates of arrival are: california, ojai, march 27, daggett, april 10, escondido, april 13, stockton, april 13, santa barbara, april 14, and fort crook, april 19, oregon, narrows, april 8, and malheur lake, april 17; arizona, palo verde, april 4; new mexico, state college, may 17, and lake buford, may 30; colorado, denver, may 5; idaho, rupert, april 28; and montana, billings, may 19. migrants also have been observed to arrive at points on the gulf coast as texas, port lavaca, march 18; louisiana, sandfly pass, march 16, and vermilion bay, april 27; and florida, merritts island, march 10, and titusville, march 11. _fall migration._--late dates of fall departure are: oregon, narrows, october 26; california, fresno, september 15, tulare lake, october 7, buttonwillow, november 13, and riverdale, november 19; utah, ogden, october 8; colorado, windsor, november 5; and new mexico, jornada, september 25. _casual records._--the black-necked stilt has been reported from many of the eastern states but some of these are indefinite or otherwise unsatisfactory. among those that are considered valid are mississippi, vicksburg, july 13, 1913; alabama, leighton, august 26, 1892; south carolina, sullivans island, may, 1881 (possibly breeding); new jersey, stone harbor, april 24, 1894, and cape may, july 21, 1843; new york, great south bay, two taken, one in 1843; new hampshire, rye beach, reported as taken several years previous to 1902; maine, rockland, one taken early in may, 1889; new brunswick, maces bay, one in september, 1880; iowa, hawarden, one in 1890, webster county, several in the summer of 1898; wisconsin, racine, april, 1847; north dakota, hankinson, july 29, 1921; kansas, wichita, one killed in 1906; and nebraska, a few occurrences around omaha in 1893, 1894, and 1895. one also was taken on san nicholas island of the santa barbara group, california, on may 25, 1897. _egg dates._--california: 140 records, april 26 to august 4, 70 records, may 21 to june 8. utah: 12 records, may 10 to june 24, 6 records, may 14 to 23. texas: 23 records, april 17 to june 11; 12 records, april 26 to may 28. florida: 90 records, april 14 to june 25; 45 records, april 14 to may 6. family scolopacidae, snipes and sandpipers scolopax rusticola linnaeus european woodcock habits this fine large member of the snipe family is widely distributed in europe and asia and has occurred as a straggler in north america half a dozen times or more at various points from newfoundland to virginia. seton gordon (1915) gives a very good idea of its distribution and migrations, as follows: the principal summer home of the woodcock is the northern portion of the old world, for it is found extending from eastern siberia to the western extremity of europe. the woodcock nesting in kamschatka migrate to japan with the advent of the cold weather, those frequenting mongolia to china, while those which have nested in western siberia and on the plateau of tibet move down to burma, india, afghanistan, and persia. our own winter visitors are those birds which have bred in scandinavia, finland, and perhaps russia. those which press on south past our islands arrive in palestine, in north africa, and in egypt. throughout russia the woodcock is found nesting, extending though in diminished numbers, as far south as the caucasus and the crimea. it also breeds in central france and in northern italy. some of its most distant nesting grounds are in kashmir and japan, while it has been found breeding in the himalayas at the height of 10,000 feet. in the faroe islands it has occurred as a passing visitor and has also been recorded from spitsbergen. _courtship._--the same writer refers to a nuptial performance akin to the evening song flight of our woodcock, of which he says: immediately after sunset the entire male woodcock population leave their secluded haunts, and fly backwards and forwards over the same line of country, uttering a peculiar cry unheard except during the season of nesting. the notes may be termed the song of the males, and are uttered by the birds previous to their departure for their feeding grounds in the evening. the song commences with grunting cries, ending up with a sharp and penetrating note repeated maybe several times in quick succession, _pisick, pisick_. at times two cock birds during their aerial maneuvers cross one another's path, and then ensues a stern chase over the tree tops, the birds uttering repeatedly their chirping cries. the "roding" of the woodcock never takes place before the sun has set during the earlier part of spring, but at a more advanced period, in may, the birds commence their evening flights rather earlier. the flighting is continued till deep twilight has settled over the glen, but ceases before night. in the morning i, personally, have never heard this "roding," but it is said to be recommenced before daybreak, and to cease previous to full daylight. the woodcock when roding does not fly repeatedly over the same part of the wood; there is an interval between each of its appearances. it is said to pass over the same country three times in the course of the evening. on the first visit it flies high and usually fast; on the second its progress is lower and more leisurely; while on the third and last the bird moves just above the trees. _nesting._--in the southern portions of great britain the woodcock is a very early breeder, many birds nesting in march and some in february. late nestings in july indicate the probability that two broods are sometimes raised, though this is unusual among waders. mr. gordon (1915) describes the nesting habits as follows: the nesting ground is usually a wood, deciduous trees, being, i think preferred, owing to the soft layer of fallen leaves covering the ground. close-grown plantations are rarely chosen as nesting sites, and small belts of birch and oak are favorite nesting grounds, provided that there is plenty of space between the trees. it is my experience that the birds dislike dense cover in which to nest; a few broken-down braken offer a suitable position, or the bird may scrape out a hollow amongst the deep layers of fallen beech and oak leaves which cover the ground beneath these trees. the eggs usually number four, but at times only three are found. their ground color is normally buff colored, and they are liberally spotted and blotched by dark reddish-brown markings. nothing more primitive than the nest of the woodcock can be found in the bird world. it is merely a slight hollow scraped in the ground and generally without intentional lining of any kind. the mother woodcock often sits very hard on her eggs, especially if incubation be far advanced, for she relies on the close harmonization of her plumage with her surroundings. sometimes i have been able to approach to within a few feet of such a bird, and by not the slightest movement did she betray that she was alive. as the result of her early nesting, the woodcock has sometimes to cover her eggs when snow lies around to a considerable depth. rev. henry h. slater (1898) says that the nest is "often at the foot of a young scotch fir, or other tree." _eggs._--the european woodcock usually lays four eggs, but as many as six and even eight have been found in a nest, probably the product of two birds. these are much like large eggs of the american woodcock. they are about ovate in shape and have a slight gloss. the ground colors vary from "deep olive buff" to "cream buff." they are usually sparingly, but sometimes quite heavily, marked with irregular spots and small blotches. the underlying markings, in light shades of drab are numerous and quite conspicuous. over these are varying amounts of spots and blotches of light browns, ranging in color from "snuff brown" to "clay color." occasionally there are a few spots or scrawls of "bister" or "clove brown" about the larger end. herbert massey (1913) describes the eggs as follows: the ground color ranges from the palest cream (nearly white) through deeper cream to pale buff, yellow-buff, and the deepest brown buff (many of the eggs of this latter type having a distinct pink tone), speckled and spotted and blotched with yellow-brown, dark brown, and purplish gray. as a rule, the eggs in the same set are fairly uniform in the pattern of the markings, but occasionally you get a set with one egg much more marked than the other three, and in many cases you find two distinct shades of ground color in the same set. the measurements of 100 eggs, furnished by f. c. r. jourdain, average 43.8 by 33.6 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =49= by 34.8, 44.9 by =36.4=, =40.2= by 34, and 43.1 by =31.6= millimeters. _young._--incubation lasts for 20 or 21 days and is performed by the female only. the young remain in the nest but a short time, where they are brooded by their mother and carefully tended by both parents. several good observers have seen the mother bird carry her young away between her legs. dresser (1871) quotes john j. dalgleish as follows: i have had on three occasions the good fortune to see the woodcock in the act of carrying her young. on the first occasion the bird rose from my feet one day in the month of june, in a thick coppice cover in argyllshire, and flew with her strange burden carried between her thighs for about 30 yards, in the manner well described in a note in mr. gray's birds of the west of scotland. on following her she again rose, still carrying the young one, and flew into some thick cover. on this and the next occasion, which was in perthshire, the birds uttered no cry; but the last time i witnessed this curious habit, which was on the 5th of may last, the bird made the peculiar cry alluded to in the note in mr. gray's work. on this occasion i could observe the bird more distinctly, as it was in an old oak cover, with very little underwood, where i discovered her. on rising she flew from 35 to 40 yards, calling as above mentioned, and then, alighting among some grass, seemed to flutter along, still retaining hold of the chick. on raising her again, the same maneuver was repeated, only that the distance flown each time was greater, but always in the segment of a circle, as if she were unwilling to leave the rest of the brood. on returning to the spot where she rose at first, i discovered one of these, which was more than half grown, the quill feathers being well formed, and must altogether have formed rather a heavy burden. on taking it up, it uttered a cry, which was at once responded to by the parent bird, although the latter did not again take to wing from the bushes into which it had ultimately flown. abel chapman (1924) writes: for many years a question used to be discussed as to woodcocks carrying their young; but the matter never specially interested me, until, on august 3, 1915, i happened to see it with my own eyes. this was in houxty wood, and since then i have witnessed the performance on many occasions. during the war this wood was largely felled for military purposes and the area thus cleared, and subsequently replanted, has become a specially favored resort of our long-billed friends. the annexed sketch, made there on june 15, 1920, shows exactly how the feat is accomplished. that particular woodcock rose on the hillside a trifle above me, slowly flapping by close in front, and looking back at me over her shoulder. what first struck my attention was the curiously depressed tail, held almost vertical; then the mother's feet, hanging down below; finally the youngster, with its very short beak, pressed between its parent's thighs. since then i have witnessed many similar exhibitions; indeed, in summer they are almost daily on view. _plumages._--the downy young of the european woodcock is thus described in witherby's (1920) handbook: forehead and broad band over eye to nape light ochraceous buff, a russet median streak from base of upper mandible to crown; crown russet intermixed with light ochraceous buff, centre of nape russet, sides light ochraceous buff; an irregular and interrupted russet band from nape to uropygial tuft, another across wing; rest of upper parts and sides of body with irregular bands and patches of ochraceous buff and russet; from base of upper mandible to eye a broad black-brown streak; a small patch of same behind eye; a patch of russet on lower throat; rest of under parts light ochraceous buff. the juvenal plumage is therein fully described. it is much like the adult, differing only in minor details, but can easily be recognized by the looser or softer structure of the feathers. practically all of this plumage, except the primaries and secondaries, is replaced in the fall by the first winter plumage, which is indistinguishable from the adult. adults have a complete postnuptial molt from july to december and a partial prenuptial molt, involving nearly everything but the wings, from february to may. _food._--mr. gordon (1915) refers to the feeding habits of the woodcock as follows: it feeds mainly by night on wet, boggy ground, and eats an enormous quantity of worms; indeed, it may swallow almost its own weight of food in the course of a single day. when the blackberries have ripened the woodcock betake themselves to the hillsides and consume great quantities of the fruit. mr. slater (1898) says: i have occasionally flushed woodcocks at night from wet rushy fields, where they were doubtless probing the ground for worms and larvae, occasionally turning over the droppings of cattle for concealed beetles. but they also feed in woods to a certain extent, turning the dead leaves over to find insects, etc. the accounts of the extent of their appetites and of the amount of worms, etc., which they will put away at a sitting are surprising. these they find in the earth with their bills, which are modified into a very delicate organ of touch. if the horny epidermis be removed, a number of small pits of a hexagonal shape will be seen in the bone at the end of the bill, remotely suggesting an incipient honey comb. in each one of these pits a minute fibril of the olfactory nerve has its termination, and by this means, when the bill is thrust into the soft, wet soil, the slightest wriggle of the least living creature is instantly telegraphed to the woodcock's sensibilities. witherby's handbook (1920) includes the following items in its food: earthworms; also insects (coleoptera and their larvae, orthoptera (_forficula_) larvae of lepidoptera, etc.); small mollusca, etc. grains of maize recorded on one occasion in stomach, and mussels (_mytilus_) also said to be eaten, as well as small crustacea. _behavior._--mr. gordon (1915) says: during its flight the bill of the woodcock is pointed downwards, and the wings are not extended to their full stretch. it seldom makes sustained flights, however, except on migration. during a shoot at alnick a woodcock was seen to alight on the ground and then to throw leaves over its back, presumably to hide itself from the guns. if so, it would seem that the woodcock is one of the most sagacious of birds. selby (1833) writes: the haunts selected by these birds, for their residence during the daytime, are usually the closest brakes of birch and other brushy underwood, and where the ground, from the deep shade, is nearly free from herbage; and, for this reason, thick fir plantations of 10 or 12 years' growth are a favorite resort. in woods that are very extensive they are generally found, and abound most in thickets by the sides of open glades, or where roads intersect, as by these they pass to and from their feeding ground at evening and in the dawn of the morning. unless disturbed, they remain quietly at roost upon the ground during the whole day, but as soon as the sun is wholly below the horizon, they are in full activity, and taking flight nearly at the same instant, leave the woods and cover for the adjoining meadows, or open land, over which they disperse themselves, and are fully engaged in search of food during the whole night. mr. slater (1898) observes: it is well known that woodcocks follow certain routes to their favorite feeding grounds in the evening, as they also have preferences for certain woods and certain parts of woods to lie in during the day. in short, they are very peculiar and fanciful in their tastes, and are guided by circumstances not apparent to us in their liking for one place rather than for another which seems to our eyes to offer the same advantages. a wood above my father's late house, in northumberland, was a regular passing place for cocks, and at dusk on any april or may evening a sight of half a dozen at least was a certainty, as they passed rapidly above the trees, announced, long before they themselves were visible, by their peculiar half squeak, half whistle. i have here seen them "tilting" in the air in the manner described by st. john and others. it has been suggested that this tilting (at which time they tumble and twirl about in the air in pairs and threes, apparently prodding at one another with their bills) is connected with pairing, but i can not think so, as i have witnessed it as late as the end of may. i rather think it is pure playfulness, as of children just out of school, after lying concealed and quiet most of the day. according to yarrell (1871), woodcocks sometimes become exhausted and fall into the sea on their migrations; but they do not always perish, for he says: a woodcock when flushed on the coast has been known to settle on the sea, and when again disturbed rose without difficulty and flew away. numerous instances are recorded of woodcocks alighting on the decks of ships in the english channel and elsewhere. the rapidity of flight of this bird is at times so great that a pane of plate glass more than three-eighths of an inch thick has been smashed by the contact, and one was actually impaled on the weather cock of one of the churches in ipswich. _fall._--mr. slater (1898), writing of the fall migration in great britain, says: though many breed with us, there is a large migration from the north in the late autumn. if the moon is full about the end of october, they appear to come in a big "rush" then, but sometimes in driblets as early as the end of september, as late as mid-november. but their movements are largely influenced by the wind and atmosphere as well as the moon; if the weather is foggy or they are exhausted by a heavy contrary wind, they drop on the coast as soon as they touch it, and large bags are sometimes made on the sand hills by those on the lookout for them. if the wind is light and weather clear, they seem to pass inland at once to favorite and suitable covers. should frost come--which drives the worms down, and also prevents the birds from probing--cock move south and west. therefore, it is in our southwest counties, wales and west ireland, where, owing to the gulf stream frost and cold are seldom severe, that the best woodcock shooting is to be had, after the seasonal migration is over. though they travel as a rule at night, and chiefly at the time of the full moon, this is not invariably the case; on october 28, 1881, i saw a woodcock come straight in from the sea, 20 yards high, and pitch on a bare patch of shingle; this was shortly before midday, and i thought it such an unusual circumstance that i skinned the bird for my collection. _winter._--the woodcock is a winter resident as well as a migrant in great britain. dresser (1871) writes: their numbers are, of course, greatly augmented in the winter, large numbers of immigrants being added to those which breed (as after mentioned); indeed i am not sure whether all of those we have in winter are immigrants, and that those which breed with us move further south in pursuance of their migratory instinct; but this is a point very difficult to discover. in the district i now allude to, their numbers are much diminished on the appearance of severe, frosty weather, when they appear to go to the coast, where they find the feeding grounds more open; if, however, the frost be slight, they remain. on the west coast of argyllshire they are found in greater numbers, and are not so much confined to covers, being found in open weather scattered through all the sheltered glens where there is any brushwood or even bracken. on the occurrence of frost, however, they all gather to the low-lying covers near the sea, where its influence serves to keep open the springs; and in such weather very large bags are often made, as they seem to come not only from the outlying spots above mentioned, but from the inland districts, where the frost has sealed up every one of their usual haunts. distribution _breeding range._--northern europe and asia. north in scandinavia to latitude 67â°, in lapland and finland, in western russia to 65â°, and in eastern russia to 64â°. east to the sea of okhotsk. west to the british isles. south to the azores, canaries, and madeira (where it is resident), the pyrenees, alps, transylvania, carpathians, himalayas (up to 10,000 feet), mongolia, and japan. _winter range._--great britain, the mediterranean basin, northern africa and southern asia, persia, india, burma, china, japan, and occasionally ceylon. _casual records._--casual in the faeroes, spitsbergen, greenland, and north america. prof. wells w. cooke (1912) says: it wanders occasionally to eastern north america, and has occurred in loudoun county, va., in 1873 (coues); chester county, pa., the end of november, 1886 (stone); one was taken near shrewsbury, n. j., december 6, 1859 (lawrence); one, september, 1889, somewhere in new jersey (warren); one, probably of this species, near newport, r. i. (baird, brewer, and ridgway); one at chambly, quebec, november 11, 1882 (wintle); and one at st. john, newfoundland, january 9, 1862 (sclater). _egg dates._--great britain: 29 records, march 9 to august 5; 15 records, april 18 to june 22. rubicola minor (gmelin) american woodcock habits this mysterious hermit of the alders, this recluse of the boggy thickets, this wood nymph of crepuscular habits is a common bird and well distributed in our eastern states, widely known, but not intimately known. its quiet retiring habits do not lead to human intimacy. it may live almost in our midst unnoticed. its needs are modest, its habitat is circumscribed, and it clings with tenacity to its favorite haunts even when closely encroached upon by civilization. the banks of a stream running through my place, close to the heart of the city, were once famous woodcock covers in which the birds persisted long after the surroundings were built up; and even within recent years i have had a pair of woodcocks living in the shrubbery along the stream for a week or two at a time. who knows where to look for woodcocks? their haunts are so varied that one may not be surprised to find them almost anywhere, especially on migrations. flight birds are here to-day and gone to-morrow. their favorite resorts are alder thickets along the banks of meandering streams or spring-fed boggy runs; rich bottom lands or scrubby hollows, overgrown with willows, maples, alders, and poison sumac; or the scrubby edges of damp, second-growth woods, mixed with birches; any such place will suit them where they can find moist soil, not too wet or too sour, well supplied with earthworms. during the hot, sultry weather of july and august, the molting season, they seek the seclusion of cool, moist, leafy woods or dense thickets; or they may resort to the cool hillside or mountain bogs, fed by cool springs; or, if the weather is very dry, they may be found in the wet grassy meadows. woodcocks do not like too much water and, after heavy rains, they may be driven from their usual covers to well-drained hillsides, sparsely covered with small birches, maples, locusts, and cedars. sometimes they are found on the tops of mountains; george b. sennett (1887) saw a pair on the top of roan mountain in north carolina, at an elevation of 6,000 feet, "in a clump of balsams; the overflow from numerous springs which had their sources at this spot formed an open, adjoining marsh of several acres." woodcocks often appear in unexpected places, such as city parks, yards, gardens, orchards, or even lawns. john t. nichols writes to me: a neighbor (mr. w. s. dana) called for me at about 10 o'clock in the morning of a sparklingly clear, rather cool summer's day, to show me a woodcock that was feeding on his lawn, which slopes down to an almost fresh water arm of moriches bay. we found the bird still busily engaged where he had left it. it was out in the bright sunlight, crouched, walking about slowly but continuously. it held its body in an unsteady wavering manner, and was picking and digging about the roots of the short grass stubble, apparently obtaining some food too small for us to determine. the piece of lawn where the bird was operating was low and flat, adjacent to the edge of the water where protected by a low bulkhead. the ground was slightly moist, perhaps from seepage, which may have accounted for its presence. it was remarkably unsuspicious, allowing us to crawl within 2 or 3 yards, before flying back to alight under the shade of near-by trees; but was a full-grown bird, strong on the wing. i have, more than once, seen a woodcock crouching in the short grass beside a country road, quite unconcerned as i drove past. i have frequently seen one in my yard about the shrubbery and i remember seeing my father stand on his front piazza and shoot one that was standing under an arborvitae hedge. moist cornfields are often favorite resorts for woodcocks in summer. _spring._--the woodcock is the first of our waders to migrate north and one of the earliest of all our migrants, coming with the bluebirds and the robins, as soon as winter has begun to loosen its grip. the date depends on the weather and is very variable, for the bird must wait for a thaw to unlock its food supply in the bogs and spring holes. walter h. rich (1907) has known the woodcock to arrive in maine as early as february 10, and says that early birds find a living about the big ant hills, until the alder covers are ready for them. in audubon's (1840) time the migration must have been very heavy, for he says: at the time when the woodcocks are traveling from the south toward all parts of the united states, on their way to their breeding places, these birds, although they migrate singly, follow each other with such rapidity, that they may be said to arrive in flocks, the one coming directly in the wake of the other. this is particularly observable by a person standing on the eastern banks of the mississippi or the ohio, in the evening dusk, from the middle of march to that of april, when almost every instant there whizzes past him a woodcock, with a velocity equaling that of our swiftest birds. see them flying across and low over the broad stream; the sound produced by the action of their wings reaches your ear as they approach, and gradually dies away after they have passed and again entered the woods. no such flights can be seen to-day, but we occasionally have a comparatively heavy migration; such a flight occurred in 1923 and is thus described in some notes from edward h. forbush: the most remarkable occurrence of the past two months was the prevalence of migrating woodcocks over a large part of southern new england and along the coastal regions to nova scotia. the first woodcock was reported in massachusetts the last week in february and from the first week in march onward woodcocks were noted in slowly increasing numbers over a large part of new england. from march 22 to the first week in april the number of these birds scattered through connecticut and eastern massachusetts was remarkable. at evening one could find them almost anywhere. they were seen in the most unlikely places even in daylight. they were in all the towns around boston and in the suburbs of the city itself, and west at least to the connecticut valley they were even more numerous in the woods and swamps. in southern new england at this time a large part of the snow had gone and in going had thawed the ground so that no frost remained and the woodcocks could find earthworms almost everywhere. farther north there was not only frost in the ground but there was deep snow and the birds could find no food. _courtship._--the woodcock may be found by those who seek him and know his haunts, but it is only for a short time during the breeding season, that he comes out into the open and makes himself conspicuous. his spectacular evening song-flight has been seen by many observers, and numerous writers have referred to it or described it more or less fully. william brewster (1894) has given us the best and most complete account of it, but it is too long to quote in full here. i prefer to give my own version of it. the time to look and listen for it is during the laying and incubation period--say the month of april in massachusetts, earlier farther south, even december and january in the gulf states. the performance usually begins soon after sunset, as twilight approaches. on dark nights it ceases about when the afterglow finally disappears in the western sky; and it begins again in the morning twilight, lasting from dawn to broad daylight. on moonlight nights it is often continued through much or all of the night. the woodcock's nest is usually in some swampy thicket or on the edge of the woods, near an open pasture, field, or clearing; and here in the nearest open space, preferably on some knoll or low hillside within hearing of his sitting mate, the male woodcock entertains her with his thrilling performance. sometimes, but not always, he struts around on the ground, with tail erect and spread, and with bill pointing downwards and resting on his chest. more often he stands still, or walks about slowly in a normal attitude, producing at intervals of a few seconds two very different notes--a loud, rasping, emphatic _zeeip_--which might be mistaken for the note of the nighthawk, and a soft guttural note, audible at only a short distance, like the croak of a frog or the cluck of a hen. suddenly he rises, and flies off at a rising angle, circling higher and higher, in increasing spirals, until he looks like a mere speck in the sky, mounting to a height of 200 or 300 feet; during the upward flight he whistles continuously, twittering musical notes, like _twitter_, _itter_, _itter_, _itter_, repeated without a break. these notes may be caused by the whistling of his wings, but it seems to me that they are vocal. then comes his true love song--a loud, musical, three-syllable note--sounding to me like _chicharee_, _chicharee_, _chicharee_ uttered three times with only a slight interval between the outbursts; this song is given as the bird flutters downward, circling, zigzagging, and finally volplaning down to the ground at or near his starting point. he soon begins again on the _zeeip_ notes and the whole act is repeated again and again. sometimes two, or even three, birds may be performing within sight or hearing; occasionally one is seen to drive another away. the performance has been similarly described by several others with slight variations. mr. brewster (1894) refers to what i have called the _zeeip_ note as _paap_ and the soft guttural note as _p'tul_, and says that-"each _paap_ was closely preceded by a _p'tul_, so closely at times that the two sounds were nearly merged." he counted the _paaps_ as "uttered consecutively 31, 21, 37, 29, and 28 times." describing the action in detail, he says: at each utterance of the _paap_ the neck was slightly lengthened, the head was thrown upward and backward (much in the manner of a least flycatcher's while singing), the bill was opened wide and raised to a horizontal position, the wings were jerked out from the body. all these movements were abrupt and convulsive, indicating considerable muscular effort on the part of the bird. there was perhaps also a slight twitching of the tail, but this member was not perceptibly raised or expanded. the return of the several parts to their respective normal positions was quite as sudden as were the initial movements. the forward recovery of the head was well marked. the opening and shutting of the bill strongly suggested that of a pair of tongs. during the emission of the _paap_ the throat swelled and its plumage was ruffled, but neither effect was more marked than with any of our small birds while in the act of singing. the mouth opened to such an extent that i could look directly down the bird's throat, which appeared large enough to admit the end of one's forefinger. the lateral distension of the mouth was especially striking. referring to the song flight, he says: "two flights, which i timed from the start to the finish, lasted, respectively, 57 and 59 seconds, the song 11 and 12 seconds, respectively." during the flight he followed him with a glass and "made out distinctly that while singing he alternately flapped his wings (several times in succession) and held them extended and motionless." francis h. allen has sent me the following notes on his impression of the song: in all that has been written of this wonderful performance of the woodcock's, i do not remember to have seen any full description of the song itself; the peeping, or _peenting_, on the ground, with the alternating water-dropping sounds and the accompaniment of head-jerking and wing-lifting has been described at length, as well as the remarkable spiral ascent into the air on whistling wings; but the character of the actual song, which is uttered at the summit of the ascent and as the bird comes down, is worth a little more attention. it begins in a confused series of chipping whistles which convey the impression of coming from at least three birds at once. these soon resolve themselves into groups of four to six--usually four in my experience--descending notes, the groups alternating with groups of high-pitched wing-whistles. these song notes vary in sweetness with different individuals, but are often very clear and musical. not the least interesting aspect of the woodcock's evening hymn is the fact that so stolid appearing a bird should be moved by the fervor of courtship to execute so elaborate and exciting a performance. the excitement attending the affair as far as the spectator, or rather listener, is concerned lies to great extent in the wing whistling. when the woodcock first rises, the whistle is comparatively low, but as he mounts, the pitch rises and the rapidity of production increases. it is a steady succession of very short whistling notes for some time, but, when the bird and the whistle both reach their height, it comes in short groups of extremely rapid whistles alternating with brief intervals of motionless wings, as if the performer were breathless with excitement and effort and could not sustain his flight for long at a time. this is the effect, i mean. probably the bird finds it easy enough, for he makes his flight at comparatively short intervals and during his periods of rest he is hard at work producing his harsh and unmusical nighthawk-like _peent_ notes which involve a deal of muscular effort. lynds jones (1909) says that "the bird floats downward by a crooked path, the while calling in coaxing tones _p chuck tuck cuck oo_, _p chuck tuck cuckoo_, uttered more slowly at first, regularly increasing in rapidity until the notes are almost a wheedling call." isador s. trostler (1893) describes a feature of the courtship which i have not seen mentioned elsewhere; he writes: the birds often play in a very droll manner, running round and round each other in a small circle, their feathers ruffled, their wings lifted, and their long bills pointing nearly directly upward, with their heads resting on their backs. sometimes they will hop on one foot, holding the other at a queer angle, as if it had been broken or hurt. the male bird utters a low indescribable sound during all the playing, and the sight of these queer antics is worth more than to have seen modjeska or barrett in their celebrated plays. _nesting._--the nesting sites of the woodcock are almost as varied as its haunts at other times. i have never known how or where to look for its nest; in over 40 years of field work i have seen but one nest with eggs. that was shown to me by mrs. mary m. kaan, in chestnut hill, massachusetts, on june 2, 1924. it was located where i should never have thought of looking for one, in an open, rocky hollow in open woods, within 50 feet of a bridle path on one side and about the same distance from a swampy ravine and brook on the other side. the nest was on a little hummock, surrounded by herbage about a foot high; it was a mere hollow in the ground lined with dead leaves. although it was in fairly plain sight, it was a long time before i could see the sitting bird, even when it was pointed out to me. the bird sat like a rock, as this species usually does, while i took a series of photographs of it, moving gradually nearer. i even removed two leaves which were resting on her bill, and mrs. kaan stroked her on the back before she left. the nest held only three eggs, which were probably a second laying. the usual nesting sites are in alder runs, swampy thickets, brushy corners in pastures, or in underbrush or tall weeds along the edges of woods. woodcocks are early breeders and it sometimes happens that nests are buried under late falls of snow; in such cases the birds continue to sit as long as it is possible to do so. the nest is often placed at the foot of a small tree or bush, occasionally beside a log or stump or even under fallen brush. an abundance of fallen leaves seems to be an essential requirement, of which the nest is usually made and among which the bird relies on its protective coloration for concealment; but its big black eyes sometimes reveal it. l. whitney watkins (1894) found a nest near manchester, michigan, in heavy timber, and within a few feet of a reed-bordered, springy spot, it was within 2 feet of an ovenbird's nest. another nest he describes as follows: the old bird, curiously enough, had selected for her nesting site an open spot where some fallen boughs had partially decayed, and within 5 feet of a picket fence enclosing an open pasture field. opposite her on the other side, were ash, elm, oak, and other trees, of no considerable size, and round about were many frost-dried stems of aster and goldenrod, interspersed with the fallen leaves of the previous summer. little of green was near. e. g. taber (1904) found a nest that was situated in a swampy corner of a field planted with corn, only 6 feet from the open, on a slightly raised portion of the ground. this corner was overgrown with black ash, soft maple, tag alders, and ferns, mingled with poison ivy. mr. brewster (1925) describes two, of several, nests found near umbagog lake, maine, as follows: one, containing four eggs, incubated perhaps as many days, was in the face of a low mound partially overarched by balsam shrubs surrounded on every side by pools of water, and some 80 yards from the lake shore near the middle of swampy, second-growth woods made up chiefly of aspen, red cherry, and yellow birch trees, 20 or 30 feet in height, beneath which grew alders rather abundantly. the female woodcock flew up from her eggs at least 15 feet in advance of me, and whistling faintly soared off over the tree tops to be seen no more. i flushed a male about 50 yards from this nest. of the other he says: it was at the edge of a little fern-grown opening, on a mound covered with brakes flattened and bleached by winter snows, beneath a balsam scarce 2 feet high, and not dense enough to afford much concealment for the eggs which, indeed, caught my eye when i was 15 feet away, there being no bird on them. mr. trostler (1893) writes: finding a nest one day, i disturbed the setting bird three times, and again four times on the next day, and on the morning of the third day i found that the birds had removed the eggs during the night and placed them in a new nest about 8 feet away, where i found the eggs. i had marked the eggs to avoid any mistake. the second nest was a mere hollow in the mossy ground, and was in the middle of an open place in tall marsh grass, while the first was neatly cupped and lined with the above-mentioned vegetable down. another singular habit of the woodcock that i have never seen noted is that of both birds setting upon the nest in wet or cold weather. in doing this they huddle very close together and face in opposite directions, and i have always noted that they have their heads thrown back and their bills elevated to an angle of about forty-five degrees. mr. nichols writes to me: on long island there is a favorite nesting station for woodcock, where the woodland gives place to broad fields, separated by narrow stands of big trees with a sparse tangled undergrowth of shrubbery and cat-brier, and where here and there a short fresh-water creek extends inland from the not distant bay. several writers have stated or implied that the woodcock raises two broods in a season. this would be an exception to the rule among waders. i believe that it normally nests early and that the late nests are merely second attempts at raising a brood, where the first nest has been destroyed. an interesting case of nest-protecting display is thus described by dr. robert cushman murphy (1926): she (assuming that it was the female) would allow us to come within a few feet before leaving her well-concealed position. then she would spring from the nest, pitch on the ground close by, and, standing with the tail toward us, would raise and spread it so as to show to full advantage the double row of glistening white spots at the ends of the rectrices and under coverts. next, flashing this striking banner slowly, she would move off among the trees in the attitude of a strutting turkey cock, stopping when we refused to follow, and then tripping ahead for a few steps, all the while bleating softly. the effect was astonishing; the ordinary low visibility of a woodcock against the forest floor no longer held, for the spotted fan of the tail had become a most conspicuous and arresting mark. _eggs._--the american woodcock lays four eggs, sometimes only three, and rarely five. they vary in shape from ovate to rounded ovate and have a moderate gloss. the ordinary ground colors vary from "pinkish buff" to "cartridge buff" and in certain brown types from "pinkish buff" to "cinnamon." they are usually rather sparingly and more or less evenly marked with small spots, but sometimes these spots are concentrated about the larger end. in the lighter types, which are the most common, there are often many large blotches of light shades of "vinaceous drab" or "brownish drab"; these are conspicuous and often predominate. mixed with them are numerous small spots of light browns, "cinnamon," "clay color," or "tawny olive." in the brown types these spots are in richer browns, "hazel," "russet," or "cinnamon brown," with the drab spots less conspicuous. the measurements of 53 eggs, in the united states national museum, average 38 by 29 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =41= by =30= and =35= by =27.5= millimeters. _young._--the period of incubation is 20 or 21 days. both sexes assist in this and in the care of the young. an incubating woodcock is notorious as a close sitter and can not usually be flushed from the nest unless nearly trodden upon; often it can be touched or even lifted from the eggs. the young are rather feeble when first hatched and are brooded by the parent bird much of the time for the first day or two. if flushed from her brood of young the female flutters away for a short distance as if hardly able to fly, with dangling legs and tail depressed and spread. if the young are strong enough to walk, she calls to them making a clucking sound, to which they respond with a faint peeping sound, as they run toward her; having gathered them under her wings, she covers them again trusting to her concealing coloration. if the young are too young and feeble to run, she may return when she thinks it safe, and carry them off between her legs, one at a time. several reliable and accurate observers have testified to seeing this done; some who have not seen it have doubted it. the following account by edwyn sandys (1904) seems convincing: the nest in question was on a bit of level ground amid tall trees. the sole suggestion of cover was a lot of flattened leaves which lay as the snow had left them. perhaps 10 yards away was an old rail fence about waist-high, and on the farther side of it was a clump of tall saplings. a man coming out of the wood told me he had just flushed a woodcock and had seen her brood, recently hatched and pointed out where they were. i went in to investigate, and located one young bird crouched on the leaves. it ran a few steps and again crouched, evidently not yet strong enough for any sustained effort. i went off, and hid behind a stump, to await developments. from this shelter the young bird was visible and it made no attempt to move. presently the old one came fluttering back, alighted near the youngster, and walked to it. in a few moments she rose and flew low and heavily, merely clearing the fence, and dropping perhaps 10 yards within the thicket. her legs appeared to be half bent, and so far as i could determine the youngster was held between them. something about her appearance reminded me of a thing often seen--a shrike carrying off a small bird. i carefully marked her down, then glanced toward where the youngster had been. it was no longer there; and a few moments later it, or its mate, was found exactly where the mother had gone down. she flushed and made off in the usual summer flight. william h. fisher writes to me: on may 16, 1903, i flushed an old bird at upper end of the eagle woods. she left three young on the ground, they remaining very quiet, cuddled in the dead leaves. in a few minutes she returned and alighted by them took one _between her legs_, holding it tight up to her belly, and flew off into a thicket. i sat and watched the other two young for about 15 minutes, hoping and expecting the mother bird would return, but, she not doing so, i got tired and left. as the usual set of eggs is four, i wonder if the old bird carried off one when she first flushed. john t. nichols tells, in his notes, of a brood found on long island: this brood was found early in the morning by working painstakingly in a narrow stand of trees where a nest was suspected. the parent bird rose from almost under foot and fluttered away, as is customary in such cases, with tail spread, pointing down, legs dangling wide apart. it was perhaps a minute before the eye could pick out four young lying motionless side by side, so inconspicuous was their color against the background. for another couple of minutes they lay motionless. then of one accord rolled to their feet and spreading their baby wings aloft, as though to balance, walked deliberately away with fine, scarcely audible cheeping, each in a slightly different direction. apparently reliable reports are current of the woodcock carrying its young, but the characteristic peculiar labored flight, with deflected tail and widespread legs, just described, may also easily give such an impression erroneously. again he writes: just after sunrise on a clear morning i came upon 3 birds in an open field. two of them flew in different directions, one swiftly and silently quickly disappeared, the other in the peculiar fluttering manner characteristic of a parent when surprised with young. as i reached the point where the two had risen the presence of helpless young was confirmed by the actions of a bird on the ground some 75 yards away, at the edge of the trees to which the parent had flown. its head up, watching me, both wings were extended to the side, flapping feebly. i had stood a couple of minutes scrutinizing the ground about, when my eye alighted on a fledgling. at the same instant it rose to its feet, raised and extended its wings to the side, and began to walk rapidly away, calling a high-pitched _seep_! its wings were fully feathered, though little grown, feathers extending narrowly between them across the back, sides of its lower parts feathered, feathers not quite meeting in the center, otherwise in down. contrast its helplessness with the young bobwhite which flies at a much earlier stage. audubon (1840) describes the actions of the anxious mother in the following well-chosen words: she scarcely limps, nor does she often flutter along the ground, on such occasions; but with half extended wings, inclining her head to one side, and uttering a soft murmur, she moves to and fro, urging her young to hasten towards some secure spot beyond the reach of their enemies. regardless of her own danger, she would to all appearance gladly suffer herself to be seized, could she be assured that by such a sacrifice she might ensure the safety of her brood. on an occasion of this kind, i saw a female woodcock lay herself down on the middle of a road, as if she were dead, while her little ones, five in number, were endeavoring on feeble legs to escape from a pack of naughty boys, who had already caught one of them, and were kicking it over the dust in barbarous sport. the mother might have shared the same fate, had i not happened to issue from the thicket, and interpose in her behalf. _plumages._--the downy young woodcock, when newly hatched, is conspicuously and handsomely marked; the upper parts are "warm buff" or "light ochraceous buff," distinctively marked with rich "seal brown"; these markings consist (with some individual variation) of a large, central crown patch, extending in a stripe down the forehead, a large occipital patch, a stripe from the bill through the eye to the occiput, a broad stripe down the center and one down each side of the back, a patch on each wing and each thigh and irregular markings on the sides of the head and neck; the under parts are more rufous, "pinkish cinnamon" or "cinnamon buff," and unmarked. the juvenal plumage appears at an early age, coming in first on the back and wings; the wings grow rapidly, and the young bird can fly long before it is fully grown. this plumage is much like that of the adult, but it can be distinguished during the first summer by its looser texture and by broader brown edgings on the wing coverts, scapulars, and tertials. a prolonged postnuptial molt of the body plumage during late summer and fall produces a first winter plumage which is nearly adult. at the first prenuptial molt, in late winter and spring, young birds become indistinguishable from adults. adults have an incomplete prenuptial molt, involving the body plumage, some wing coverts, scapulars, and tertials, in late winter and early spring, and a complete postnuptial molt in july and august. fall birds are much more richly colored than spring adults. _food._--the woodcock is a voracious feeder; its principal food is earthworms or angleworms, of which it has been known to eat more than its own weight in 24 hours. it is said to feed mainly at night or during the hours of twilight or dusk. the worms are obtained by probing in mud or damp earth in any place where worms are to be found, including gardens and cultivated fields. the long bill of the woodcock is well supplied with sensitive nerves, in which the sense of touch is highly developed; it can detect the movements of a worm in the soil and capture it by probing. numerous borings are often seen close together, indicating that the bird does not always strike the worm at the first stab. probably its keen ears also help to locate its prey. it is said to beat the soft ground with its feet or wings, which is supposed to suggest the effect of pattering rain and draw the worms toward the surface. c. j. maynard (1896) made the following observations on a captive bird: the floor of its house was covered to the depth of four or five inches with dark-colored loam, in which i planted a quantity of weeds, beneath which the woodcock could hide. i would drop a number of worms on this soil, which, as the bird was too shy to feed at first, had ample time to bury themselves. at times, however, i was able to watch the bird unseen by it; then the woodcock, which had remained hidden in the corner behind the sheltering weeds, would emerge cautiously and walk over the ground, slowly and deliberately, pausing every instant or two as if listening intently. then he would stamp with one foot, giving several sharp, quick blows, after which he would bow his head near the ground and again listen. then suddenly he would turn either to the right or left or take a step or two forward, plunge his bill into the earth, and draw out a worm, which he would swallow, then repeat this performance until all the worms were eaten. during dry spells, when the worms have returned to the subsoil, the woodcock must seek other foods. it then resorts to the woods, where it turns over the leaves in search of grubs, slugs, insects, and larvae. it has even been known to eat grasshoppers. mr. rich (1907) says that in early spring, before the alder covers are open, it feeds on ants. frederick s. webster (1887) reports a singular case, where the crop of a woodcock was crammed full of leaves of a common fern. _behavior._--the woodcock is so nocturnal or crepuscular in its habits that it remains quietly hidden in its favorite covers during the day and is seldom seen to fly unless disturbed, when it flutters up through the trees with a weak, irregular, or zigzag flight, dodging the branches. when clear of obstructions, it flies more swiftly and directly, but usually for only a short distance, and soon pitches down into the cover again. one can usually follow it and flush it again and again. toward dusk it becomes much more active, and its shadowy form is often seen flying over the tree tops and across open places to its feeding grounds. at such times its flight is steady and direct, with regular wing strokes; its chunky form with its long bill pointing downward is easily recognized. while traveling at night its flight is quite swift. when rising in flight the woodcock produces, usually but not always, a distinct whistling or twittering sound. this has led to much discussion and differences of opinion, as to whether the sound is produced by the wings or is vocal. i am inclined to the latter theory, for i have often seen a woodcock fly without whistling, and many others have referred to such a flight. few of us have ever seen a woodcock alight in a tree, but mr. rich (1907) refers to several instances where the bird has been seen to do this by reliable witnesses. once he himself shot one in the act. _voice._--except during the spectacular song-flight and courtship performance, the woodcock is a very silent bird, unless we regard the twittering heard when it rises as vocal. mr. nichols says in his notes: the quality of the twitter of a rising woodcock corresponds more or less to the character of its flight. when, as is frequently the case, the bird merely flutters a short distance to drop again behind the screen of undergrowth, it amounts to little more than the chirping of crickets. on one occasion when i observed an individual barely escape the attack of an _accipiter_, this sound, as it rose, was less shrill and loud than often, but more rapid and sustained, with an incisive quality suggesting a rattle snake's alarm. when a woodcock rises through thick brush or brambles its wings make a whirring sound not unlike that of the bob white, accompanied by a slight twitter. mr. brewster (1925) writes: many years ago i expressed in print a belief that the whistling sound made by a rising woodcock is produced by the bird's wings. this conviction has since been confirmed by field experience at the lake with woodcock killed during the first half of september, and in varying conditions of moult. such of them as still retained or had just renewed the attenuated outer primaries, almost always whistled when flushed, whereas no sound other than a dull fluttering one was ever heard from any of those not thus equipped. hence i continue to hold firmly to the opinion that the woodcock's clear, silvery whistle emanates from these "whistling quills", as sportsmen fitly term them, and not from the bird's throat. there are, however, certain sounds, not very unlike those which combine to form the usual characteristic whistle, but more disconnected and twittering, which may be of vocal origin. one hears them oftenest from the woodcock hovering, just before alighting, or flitting low over the ground for trifling distances, beating their wings rather listlessly. this comparatively slow pulsation of the wings might account for the interrupted sequence of the sounds, but not perhaps, for their seemingly throaty quality. edward h. forbush (1925) quotes three observers, as follows: mr. w. h. harris asserts that he held a woodcock by the bill which whistled three times with a rotary motion of body and wings. mr. j. m. dinsmore held a woodcock by the body and wings to prevent movement of these parts, and he says that this bird whistled through its mouth and throat. mr. h. austin avers that he flushed a woodcock that did not whistle, marked the bird and put him up again when he whistled, which indicates that the bird may have made the sound with its vocal equipment. fall.--the following from the pen of mr. forbush (1912) illustrates the conditions which affect the fall flight: the flights of birds from the north have not diminished in number so much as have the native birds. occasionally a large flight stops here, as in early november, 1908, when woodcock were plentiful here, and when some gunners in connecticut secured from 20 to 40 birds each in a day. this flight did not denote such an increase in the number of these birds, however, as generally was believed. the explanation is that they all came at once. the birds in maine and the provinces had a good breeding season, and they must have had a plentiful supply of food, for the autumn weather was mild, and they mostly remained in their northern homes until nearly the 1st of november. flight birds were rare in massachusetts up to that time, and the bags were small. the fall had been warm and dry, but on october 29 and 30 new england and the provinces experienced a severe northeast storm along the seaboard, followed by a cold northwest wind, which probably froze up the northern feeding grounds, if the storm had not already buried them in snow. either or both of these conditions drove the woodcock into southern new england. my correspondence shows that this flight landed in every county of massachusetts except dukes and nantucket. as usual, comparatively few were seen in barnstable county. connecticut covers harbored many woodcock from about november 12 to november 20. there were many in rhode island, and the flight was noted as far south as delaware. _game._--it is as a game bird that the woodcock is best known, most beloved, and most popular, for it is a prince among game birds, and its flesh is a delight to the palate of an epicure. what sportsman will not stop in his pursuit of other game to hunt some favorite corner, some woodland border, or some brushy hillside where he has flushed this bird of mystery before? and what a thrill he gets as the brown ball of feathers suddenly flutters up from almost underfoot among the crisp autumn leaves, dodging up through the branches with a whistled note of warning, and flies away over the treetops! perhaps he was too surprised at first to shoot; but, if he marked it down, he can soon flush it again, for it has not gone far; then, if he is quick and true at snap shooting, he may pick up the coveted prize, admire the soft, warm, ruddy breast, the pretty pattern of woodland lights and shades, the delicate long bill, and the big liquid eyes. an aristocrat among game birds! in the early days, when i first began shooting, summer woodcock shooting was regularly practiced; the season opened in july, when the young birds of late broods were not large enough to furnish good sport and were not fit for the table. moreover, the weather was often hot and the foliage was dense, making it unsatisfactory for the sportsmen. the only excuse for it was that it allowed some shooting in certain sections where local birds departed early and where flight birds seldom occurred. it went far towards exterminating local breeding birds in massachusetts; it was bad for all concerned, and it is well that it was abandoned. from the above and other causes woodcocks have decreased alarmingly during the past 50 years. one gets an impressive idea of the former abundance of the birds by reading the quaint shooting tales of frank forester, in which he boasts of having shot with a friend 125 birds in one day and 70 the next day before noon, and this with the old-fashioned muzzle-loading guns. his hunting trips were joyous occasions, in which the noonday luncheon, washed down with ample draughts of applejack, held a prominent place. by far the best shooting is to be had on flight birds, which are big and fat and strong on the wing. in warm weather they frequent the black alder thickets where there are bunches of grass and weeds, or the vicinity of brooks or springs where there is a growth of alders, willows, and birches. on crisp, cold days in october they may be found on sunny hillsides or ridges, among birches, bayberries, or huckleberries, on the sunny edges of the woods, in cedar pastures, in locust scrub, or even in old scrubby orchards. for shooting in thick cover a light short-barreled gun that scatters well is desirable, for snapshots at short range are often necessary. i prefer a light charge of fine shot, which scatters more and does not tear the birds so badly. a good dog adds much to the pleasure of hunting and is very helpful in locating or retrieving birds. the birds will sometimes run for short distances before a setter or pointer, and it is often necessary for the shooter to flush his own bird, which may place him in a poor position to shoot. therefore a well-trained spaniel, which runs around close to the shooter and flushes the birds, is generally more satisfactory. for those who have no dog, or prefer to hunt without one, there is another method of shooting woodcocks which can be practiced successfully by one who is sufficiently familiar with their haunts and habits. from their haunts on the uplands, where they rest during the day, the birds fly through the open just before dark to their favorite feeding place along some swampy run or boggy thicket, resorting regularly to the same spot night after night. if the shooter knows of such a place, where the birds are fairly plentiful, he can station himself there about sunset and feel reasonably sure of a few shots during the brief time that the birds are coming in. but increasing darkness soon makes shooting difficult. _enemies._--like other ground nesting birds, woodcocks undoubtedly have many natural enemies among the predatory animals and birds; but these have always existed without detriment to the species. as has often been said, predatory birds and animals destroy mainly the weak and diseased individuals, which are the most easily caught; the stronger and more vigorous individuals are more likely to escape and perpetuate a hardier race, better fitted to survive. the natural elements often take their toll in a wholesale destruction. arthur t. wayne (1910) relates the effect of a cold wave on the coast of south carolina, february 13 and 14, 1899, when the thermometer dropped to 14â° and the ground was covered with deep snow; he writes: the woodcock arrived in countless thousands. prior to their arrival i had seen but two birds the entire winter. they were everywhere and were completely bewildered. tens of thousands were killed by would-be sportsmen, and thousands were frozen to death. the great majority were so emaciated that they were practically feathers and of course were unable to withstand the cold. one man killed 200 pairs in a few hours, i shot a dozen birds. late tuesday afternoon i easily caught several birds on the snow and put them into a thawed spot on the edge of a swift running stream in order that they would not perish, but upon going to the place the next morning i found one frozen. these were fearfully emaciated and could scarcely fly. two birds were killed in charleston in broad street. it will be many years before this fine bird can establish itself under most favorable conditions. telegraph and other wires cause the death of thousands of birds. woodcocks migrate at night and fly low; if they strike head, bill, or breast against a wire it means almost certain death. many dead birds are picked up under wires. wires are increasing all the time and it is to be hoped that the birds will learn to avoid them. but the main cause of the woodcock's disappearance is excessive hunting of a bird too easily killed, summer shooting in the north, and wholesale slaughter during a long winter season in the south. a good account of the barbarous sport, called fire hunting, as practiced in louisiana, is given by dr. e. j. lewis (1885), as follows: the shooter, armed with a double-barreled gun, and decked with a broad-brimmed palmetto hat, sallies forth on a foggy night to the "ridge," where the cocks are now feeding in wonderful numbers. his companion on these expeditions is generally a stout-built negro, bearing before him a species of old-fashioned warming pan, in which is deposited a goodly supply of pine knots. having arrived on the ground, the cocks are soon heard whizzing about on every side; the pine knots are quickly kindled into a flame, and carried over the head of the negro. the shooter keeps as much as possible in the shade, with his broad-brimmed palmetto protecting his eyes from the glare, and follows close after the torch bearer, who walks slowly ahead. the cocks are soon seen sitting about on the ground, staring widely around in mute astonishment, not knowing what to do, and are easily knocked over with a slight pop of the gun, or more scientifically brought to the ground as they go booming off to the marshes. the lurid glare of the torch only extends to a distance of 20 yards or so around the negro; the sportsman must, therefore, be on the _qui vive_ to knock the birds over as soon as they rise, otherwise they will immediately be shrouded in the impenetrable darkness of night. these excursions are carried on with great spirit, sometimes continue the whole night through, and the slaughter of the cocks is often very great; with an experienced "fire hunter" it is no unusual occurrence to bag in this way 50 couple before morning. distribution _range._--the eastern united states and canada. _breeding range._--north to southern manitoba (brandon, portage la prairie, and winnipeg); northern michigan (palmer, sheldrake lake, and mackinac island); southern ontario (bracebridge, madoc, and ottawa); southern quebec (montreal); southern new brunswick (grand falls and north river); and nova scotia (pictou). east to nova scotia (pictou, halifax, and yarmouth); maine (rockland and portland); massachusetts (winchendon and boston); rhode island (newport); connecticut (saybrook); new jersey (morristown, laurenceville, tuckerton, and sea isle city); maryland (baltimore, and cecil, dorchester, and worcester counties); district of columbia (washington); virginia (locustville, norfolk, and lake drummond); north carolina (walke and new bern); south carolina (summerville and capers island); georgia (savannah, blackbeard island, okefinokee swamp, and st. marys); and florida (jacksonville and micanopy). south to florida (micanopy and tallahassee); alabama (autaugaville and pleasant hill); mississippi (cedar grove); louisiana (covington); and texas (sour lake). west to texas (sour lake); arkansas (clinton and newport); eastern kansas (neosho falls); eastern nebraska (london and west point); southeastern south dakota (vermilion); probably western minnesota (ortonville); eastern north dakota (larimore and bathgate); and southern manitoba (portage la prairie). casual in summer west to colorado (boulder and denver); wyoming (fort bridger); and alberta (edmonton). a chick also was reported as seen near indian head, newfoundland (howe). _winter range._--north to northeastern texas (jefferson); arkansas (stuttgart); probably kentucky (hickman); and rarely, north carolina (raleigh). east to rarely north carolina (raleigh); south carolina (charleston); and florida (gainesville, fruitland park, lake harney, and orlando). south to florida (orlando, panasoffkee lake, and tallahassee); alabama (autauga county); mississippi (biloxi); louisiana (covington, abbeville, and mermenton); and southern texas (beaumont and victoria). west to texas (victoria, hallettsville, and jefferson). casual in winter north to illinois (mount carmel); indiana (vincennes); ohio (new bremen); virginia (falls church); maryland (mardela); new jersey (cape may, haddonfield, and plainfield); new york (sing sing and collins); connecticut (bridgeport, new haven, and new london county); and massachusetts (boston). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival are district of columbia, washington, february 6; maryland, barron springs, february 5, and mardela springs, february 14; pennsylvania, carlisle, february 27, nauvoo, march 4, waynesburg, march 5, port province, march 7, columbia, march 9, bristol, march 10, norristown, march 11, renovo, march 13, harrisburg, march 14, philadelphia, march 15, chambersburg, march 18, coatesville, march 21, and erie, march 23; new jersey, maurice river light, february 15, plainfield, february 22, englewood, february 23, and morristown, february 28; new york, middletown, march 1, new york city, march 10, shelter island, march 10, orient point, march 12, great west bay light, march 12, branchport, march 13, stephentown, march 17, lansing, march 20, and virgil, march 21; connecticut, portland, february 15, plantsville, february 24, bridgeport, february 27, norwich, march 1, middletown, march 3, unionville, march 10, and fairfield, march 14; massachusetts, groton, february 22, rockdale, march 8, east templeton, march 11, and rehoboth, march 15; vermont, rutland, march 7, and hydeville, march 25; new hampshire, monadnock, march 14, manchester, march 20, peterboro, march 25, and durham, april 1; maine, portland 13, farmington, march 16, augusta, march 23, east hebron, march 25, ellsworth, march 28, lewiston, march 29, and norway, april 5; quebec, quebec, april 4, neilsonville, april 15, and montreal, april 21; new brunswick, st. john, march 21, scotch lake, march 29, and st. andrews, april 3; nova scotia, halifax, march 10, and wolfville, march 21; tennessee, nashville, february 28, and athens, march 1; kentucky, eubank, february 15, versailles, february 29, and alexander station, march 15; illinois, odin, february 23, quincy, march 3, shawneetown, march 4, evanston, march 13, olney, march 13, rockford, march 15, fernwood, march 20, and chicago, march 22; indiana, holman, february 16, frankfort, february 16, bicknell, february 16, waterloo, march 1, terre haute, march 1, red key, march 9, sedan, march 9, and greencastle, march 10; ohio, cleveland, february 21, new middleton, february 26, hillsboro, march 2, granville, march 7, east rockport, march 8, columbus, march 8, oberlin, march 10, lakewood, march 11, sandusky, march 13; michigan, petersburg, march 2, battle creek, march 9, ann arbor, march 17, detroit, march 24, and norvell, march 31; ontario, london, march 30, dunneville, march 21, toronto, march 25, yarker, march 29, st. thomas, march 30, and sault ste. marie, april 3; iowa, keokuk, march 12, mount pleasant, march 13, and hillsboro, march 15; wisconsin, racine, march 25, wauwatosa, march 26, and milwaukee, march 24; minnesota, leech lake, march 30; and kansas, north topeka, march 21, and lawrence, april 17. _fall migration._--late dates of fall departure are: kansas, north topeka, december 3; minnesota, hutchinson, november 3; wisconsin, greenbush, november 2, and delavan, november 6; iowa, sigourney, november 3, keokuk, november 16, grinnell, november 27, and ogden, december 30; ontario, guelph, october 30, ottawa, october 31, st. thomas, november 2, plover mills, november 5, dunnville, november 6, and toronto, november 11; michigan, manchester, october 19, vicksburg, november 2, livonia, november 11, and ann arbor, november 20; ohio, sandusky, november 1, huron, november 2, kingsville, november 7, cleveland, november 8, austinburg, november 10, and grand reservoir, november 15; indiana, roanoke, november 10, and greensburg, november 10; illinois, lake forest, october 20, odin, october 28, la grange, november 8, and rantoul, december 6; kentucky, bardstown, november 18; nova scotia, pictou, october 29, halifax, november 6, and yarmouth, november 15; new brunswick, st. john, november 13; quebec, montreal, november 4; maine, east hebron, october 20, skowhegan, october 26, lewiston, october 27, waterville, october 30, winthrop, november 4, and westbrook, november 23; new hampshire, tilton, october 22; vermont, rutland, november 3; massachusetts, rockdale, november 5, boston, november 20, watertown, november 29, and cambridge, december 8; connecticut, middletown, november 16, meriden, november 23, hartford, november 24, new haven, november 26, and portland, november 28; new york, shelter island, november 10, stephentown, november 16, plattsburg, november 20, brooklyn, november 25, wyandance, december 1, and lawrence, december 8; new jersey, camden, november 8, demarest, november 17, englewood, november 24, mahwah, november 26, morristown, november 29, and bloomfield, november 30; pennsylvania, renovo, october 23, erie, november 14, beaver, november 28, and berwyn, december 6; maryland, barron springs, november 27, and cumberland, december 12; and district of columbia, washington, december 30. _casual records._--the woodcock has been detected outside of its regular range on a few occasions, as follows: bermuda, hamilton, october 1842 and probably one at hungry bay, a few years later; keewatin, york factory, last of august; northern saskatchewan, black river, august, 1892; and montana, billings, october 23, 1917. _egg dates._--new york: 20 records, april 4 to may 29; 10 records, april 11 to 25. pennsylvania and new jersey; 22 records, march 23 to may 1; 11 records, march 30 to april 17. indiana and illinois: 26 records march 26 to may 30; 13 records april 15 to 28. north carolina: 2 records february 18 and march 29. texas: 1 record january 20. capella gallinago gallinago (linnaeus) european snipe habits the european bird is so closely related to, being regarded now as only subspecifically distinct from, our wilson snipe that i shall not attempt to write its full life history. the two birds resemble each other so closely in all their habits that this would involve useless repetition of much that i have written about the american bird. the european snipe owes its place on our list to its occurrence, probably casually, in greenland. there is a specimen in the british museum that is supposed to have come from canada, but its history is doubtful. the snipe that breeds in iceland and the faroe islands has been separated, under the name _faeroeensis_, as subspecifically distinct from the bird breeding in great britain and in continental europe. it seems quite likely that the greenland records should be referred to this form. _courtship._--much study has been given to this subject by european observers and differences of opinion still exist as to how the curious winnowing sound or bleating is produced. while the normal time for hearing this is during the spring months, it has been heard in february, during the summer and even occasionally in the fall. rev. henry h. slater (1898) writes: opinions differ widely as to the means by which this curious sound is produced. meves declared that the tail feathers were the instrument, and claimed to have produced it artificially by the snipe's tail feathers fastened to the end of a long stick and swung through the air. others hold that the tremulous motion of the tense wing feathers is the agency; a third theory is that the sound is vocal. the reader is at liberty to take his choice. i incline to the last, from analogy. i have seen the great snipe go through exactly the same evolutions at the nest, including the tremulous wings on the descending movement, and in perfect silence; i have watched the wood, the green, the broad-billed sandpipers, the kentish plover, temmick's and the little stint, and the red-necked phalarope, go through the same movements also at the nest, but in these cases the noise which accompanied the descending stage of the performance was unmistakably vocal. dr. leonhard stejneger (1885) was also much inclined to the vocal theory when he wrote: not only this power of the sound, but even more so the nature of the tune itself convinced me that it originates from the throat and not in any way either from the tail or the wing feathers, as suggested by many european writers. it is true that the wings are in a state of very rapid vibration during the oblique descent when the note is uttered, but this circumstance does not testify only in favor of the theory of the sound being produced by the wing, as the vibration most conclusively accounts for the quivering throat sound. anybody stretching his arms out as if flying, and moving them rapidly up and down and simultaneously uttering any sound is bound to "bleat." having heard, however, from my early days, of the wing or tail theories as the only orthodox ones, i did not feel convinced of the correctness of my own opinion until one evening i heard another bird of the same family produce a very similar note _while sitting on the ground_. referring to the observation recorded under _arquatella couesi_, i here only remark that the sound was so similar as to leave no doubt whatever in my mind that it had a similar origin in both cases. it may be that a snipe has never been observed bleating on the ground, but the fact that a so nearly allied bird is capable of producing essentially the same sound while in that position is an argument in favor of the more natural explanation of the sound originating from the organ which in almost all other instances is adapted to that purpose. john m. boraston (1903) gives an excellent account of this nuptial flight, as follows: another bird which the buoyant spirits of the breeding season urge into unusual prominence is the common snipe. about the pairing time, at the beginning of april, he may for some weeks be observed on the wing frequently throughout the day. at such times he describes great circles in the air at a considerable height, the rapidly beating wings carrying him round at a high speed. at regular intervals during this great circling flight the wings are laid out flat, the one inside the great circle the bird is describing being tilted up and that outside depressed. at the same moment the tail feathers are opened out so that the sky may be seen between them as between the fingers of an open hand. immediately the wings and tail are so set, the tips of the former begin to vibrate, the tail feathers remaining rigid, and the bird strikes off at a tangent, curving outward and slipping downward from the normal path of its circular flight. it is this recurring tangential deviation which causes the circle of the snipe's flight to become so vast. during the outward curving, downward flight the snipe's strange humming note is heard, synchronizing precisely with the vibration of the tips of its wings. the bill is closed when the note is being emitted. the bird's great circular flight is thus made up of two subordinate flights--the plain flight and the humming flight--in regular succession. after having described three or four great circles, the snipe reverses its course and proceeds in the opposite direction; but it is to be observed that in its "humming" flight it still works always on its "outer edge," the wing outside the great circle being invariably the one to be depressed and the one upon which the bird turns in performing the tangential, outward curving, downward flight. the sound made by the snipe may be nearly imitated by laughing in the throat with the lips closed, and associates itself in my mind with that made by the puffin when returning laden with fish to his burrow. it is like hollow, mirthless laughter; the expression of a wild earnest joy by sounds which to human ears seem mournful rather than joyous, and therefore unnatural, uncanny, weird. the snipe has another amusing trick in flight; he will suddenly jerk himself to one side, throw his wings halfway back, and allow himself to fall like a lopsided shuttlecock, until, as suddenly recovering himself, he sets off again on his circular career. seton gordon (1915) gives the following good description of the snipe's tail, by which the sound is probably made: the tail feathers of the snipe are of so peculiar formation that it may be well to give here a description of them: in the first outer tail feather the shaft is exceptionally stiff and shaped like a saber. the rays of the web are strongly bound together and are very long--the longest, in fact, reaching nearly three-quarters of the whole length of the web. the rays lie along the shaft of the feather like the strings of a musical instrument. other species of snipe possess four drumming feathers, and one species has no fewer than eight. the drumming feathers of the hen snipe are not as strong as those of the male. _eggs._--the european snipe normally lays four eggs, rarely five. these are indistinguishable from eggs of our wilson snipe. the measurements of 100 eggs, furnished by rev. f. c. r. jourdain, averaged 39.4 by 28.7 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =42.7= by 29, 39.3 by =30.3=, =35= by 28.4 and 36.3 by =26.7= millimeters. _young._--the period of incubation is about 20 days. several observers have reported seeing the snipe carry off her young between her legs, as the woodcock is known to do. mr. gordon (1915) writes: although eminent authorities have stated that a snipe with a brood by her feigns lameness to distract attention, i have never found this to be the case, the bird invariably flying off as she does when sitting on her eggs. one warm july day i witnessed a very charming spectacle in a field bordering on a wide expanse of moorland. a kindred ornithologist and myself were seated at the edge of a wall overlooking the field when he became aware that a snipe was standing fearlessly in the long herbage a few yards from us. as we watched her, the bird came forward, and disappeared among some rushes bordering the wall. for the space of a minute or so she remained hidden, and we thought she had gone there to shelter, but presently she emerged from her obscurity, and following her closely were two small chicks. by comparison with the green grass these little people appeared almost black, so dark was their downy plumage. their mother realized that danger was near, for she led them quickly away, but never turned to see whether her children were following her. they kept their position close behind her, although the pace for them was a quick one, and they were soon lost to sight behind a ridge. one realized how wonderfully obedient the chicks were: they were left in the rushes at the approach of danger, their mother having evidently enjoined them to remain concealed and without movement until she returned for them. _behavior._--an interesting account of the habits of a tame snipe, reared in captivity, is published by hugh wormald (1909) to which i would refer the reader. distribution _breeding range._--much of europe and asia. from great britain and scandinavia (up to 70â° n.) throughout northern europe and siberia. south, mainly in the mountains, to the pyrenees, alps, northern italy, southern russia, turkestan, yarkand, and southeastern mongolia. a few breed in the azores, northwestern africa, and india. replaced by allied forms in iceland, the faroes, in tropical africa, and in northeastern asia. _winter range._--great britain, the mediterranean basin, madeira, canaries, azores, africa (south to senegambia on the west and abyssinia on the east), arabia, sokotra, southern asia, japan, borneo, formosa, and the philippine islands. _casual records._--the only north american record, a specimen said to have been taken in canada, is very doubtful. this and the greenland and bermuda records are probably referrable to the iceland form, _faeroeensis_. _egg dates._--great britain: 70 records, march 3 to august 21; 35 records, april 29 to may 25. iceland: 16 records, may 10 to june 6; 8 records, may 26 to june 3. capella gallinago delicata (ord) wilson snipe habits the above species, with its several varieties, enjoys a world-wide distribution and is universally well known. the american subspecies is widely distributed from coast to coast and occurs more or less commonly, at one season or another, in nearly every part of north america. it was formerly exceedingly abundant, but its numbers have been sadly depleted during the past 50 years by excessive shooting. alexander wilson first called attention to the characters, size, and number of tail feathers, which distinguished our bird from the european. but they are so much alike that it seems best to regard them as subspecies, rather than as distinct species. _spring._--the snipe is an early migrant, leaving its winter quarters just below the frost line, just as soon as the northern frost goes out of the ground, about as early as the woodcock. when the warm spring rains have softened the meadows, when the hylas have thawed out and are peeping in the pond holes, when the cheerful _okalee_ of the redwings is heard in the marshes and when the herring are running up the streams to spawn, then we need not look in vain for the coming of the snipe. low, moist meadow lands, or wet pastures frequented by cattle, are favorite haunts, where their splashings and borings are frequently seen among the cow tracks. they are also found in high, bushy, wet pastures, or in the vicinity of spring-fed brooks among scattered clumps of willows, huckleberries or alders. _courtship._--on the wings of the south wind comes the first wisp of snipe, the will-o-the-wisp of the marshes, here to-day and gone to-morrow, coming and going under the cover of darkness. all through the spring migration and all through the nesting season we may hear the weird winnowing sound of the snipe's courtship flight, a tremulous humming sound, loud and penetrating, audible at a long distance. one is both thrilled and puzzled when he hears it for the first time, for it seems like a disembodied sound, the sighing of some wandering spirit, until the author is discovered, a mere speck, sweeping across the sky. the sound resembles the noise made by a duck's wings in rapid flight, a rapidly pulsating series of notes, _who, who, who, who, who, who, who, who_, increasing and then decreasing again in intensity. it has been termed the "bleating" of the snipe, but this does not seem to describe it so well as "winnowing." j. r. whitaker, with whom i hunted snipe in newfoundland, told me that both sexes indulge in this performance and george m. sutton (1923) suggested the possibility of it. dr. joseph grinnell (1900) gives the best account of this courtship flight, as follows: i was in a broad grassy swale, studded here and there with scrub spruces and bordered by taller timber, when my attention was attracted by a curious far-off song which puzzled me for some time. finally i descried the producer, a wilson's snipe, so far overhead as to be scarcely discernible against the clear sky. it was flying slowly in a broad circle with a diameter of perhaps 600 yards, so that the direction of the sound was ever shifting, thus confusing me until i caught sight of its author. this lofty flight was not continuously on the same level, but consisted of a series of lengthy undulations or swoops. at the end of each swoop the bird would mount up to its former level. the drop at the beginning of the downward dive was with partly closed, quivering wings, but the succeeding rise was accomplished by a succession of rapid wing beats. the peculiar resonant song was a rolling series of syllables uttered during the downward swoop, and just before this drop merged into the following rise a rumbling and whirring sound became audible, accompanying the latter part of the song and finishing it. this curious song flight was kept up for 15 minutes, ending with a downward dash. but before the bird reached the ground and was yet some 20 yards above it there was apparently a complete collapse. the bird dropped as if shot for several feet, but abruptly recovered itself to fly a short distance farther and repeat this new maneuver. by a succession of these collapses, falls, recoveries, and short flights the acrobatically inclined bird finally reached the ground, alighting in the grass near me. all of the early american writers, and many others since then, supposed that the winnowing sound was made by the bird's wings, although many european observers long ago argued that it was made by the two pairs of outer tail feathers, which are widely spread and held downward at right angles to the axis of the body during the downward swoops and vibrate as the air rushes through them. w. l. dawson (1923) says that- the body of the sound is produced by the impact of the air upon the sharp lateral feathers of the tail, held stiffly, while the pulsations of sound are produced by the wings. at least it is certain that the pulsations of sound are synchronous with the wing beats. the sound begins gradually, as while the tail is expanding, and closes with a smooth diminuendo as the tail is closing and while the wings are sailing. n. s. goss (1891) gives a different account of the courtship, as follows: in courtship, the male struts with drooping wings and widespread tail around his mate, in a most captivating manner, often at such times rising spiral-like with quickly beating wings high in air, dropping back in a wavy graceful circle, uttering at the same time his jarring cackling love note, which, with the vibration of the wings upon the air, makes a rather pleasing sound. mr. sutton (1923) noted some peculiar flight performances, which may be connected with the courtship; he says: on april 29 two birds were repeatedly flushed together; not always the same two individuals necessarily, i presume, and not certainly of opposite sex. but these birds often sailed gracefully over the cattails, in wide sweeping undulations, with wings set in a manner suggesting chimney swifts, a type of flight totally different from any previously observed. the same stunt was many times observed in the male bird of the pair whose nest was located. in fact this type of display, if it were display, was so common that the usual twitching, erratic flight was only rarely seen. i have wondered if this may not have been a pair of birds, possibly recently mated, though not actually nesting there. on may 3, in a portion of the swamp near town, a new antic was observed. a snipe, subsequently determined as a male, sprang up close at hand, and after a few energetic, direct wing beats, put his wings high above his body and, describing a graceful arc, dropped toward the ground, his legs trailing, only to rise again to repeat the performance. never during this exhibition did he actually touch the ground with his feet, so far as i could see, but it gave that impression. he was clearly excited, and i now know that such antics are a certain indication of nesting activity. at such times the male gave forth several short notes which may accurately be termed "bleats." occasionally the bird, after performing this novel antic would drop to the grass some distance away, and then fly up after a time, considerably nearer me, making it evident that he was attempting to lure me away. then again, after trying these antics for a time, he would suddenly mount to the sky, and there would follow a season of the weird wind music--always delightful. aretas a. saunders, in his notes, says that- after the eggs are laid the female often answers this sound with a long call _okee okee okee_ repeated 8 or 10 times and resembling the "buckwheat" call of the guinea hen. i believe the female is sitting on the eggs when she calls this way, for i have found the nest by locating the position of the sound at night and returning in the morning. the nest is usually in about the center of the male's circle of flight. _nesting._--as with the woodcock my personal experience with the nesting of the wilson snipe has been limited to one nest, found in the magdalen islands on june 18, 1904. the nest was found by watching the bird go to it in the east point marshes. it was on dry ground in a little clump of grass, under some low and rather open bayberry bushes, on the edge of a boggy arm of the marsh, which extended up into the woods; it was built up about 2 inches above the ground and was made of short, dead straws and dead bayberry leaves; it measured 6 inches in outside and 3 inches in inside diameter. the four eggs which it contained blended perfectly with their surroundings and although in plain sight, they were not easily seen. p. b. philipp (1925), who has found many snipe's nests in the magdalen islands, where he says the species is increasing, writes: the nesting begins in the last 10 days of may, and is a simple affair. usually wet marshy ground is selected, preferably with low brush and grass with lumps or tussocks rising above the bog water. the nest is a shallow hollow made in the grass or moss of one of these lumps, lined with broken bits of dead grass and sometimes with dead leaves. william l. kells (1906) gives a graphic account of finding a nest of the wilson snipe in southern ontario, as follows: on the 17th of may, 1905, as i was passing through a patch of low ground overgrown with second growth willows, a rather large-sized bird flushed from a spot a few feet from where i had jumped over a neck of water. i did not see the exact place from which the bird had flown, but the fluttering sound of her wing caught my ear, and looking ahead i saw the creature, who with outspread tail and wings, was fluttering on the damp earth, and with her long bill down in the mud, was giving vent to a series of squeaking sounds. i knew at once that this bird had flushed from a nest, and that the object of her actions was to draw my attention from something that she was very desirous to conceal; but a little research revealed a nest containing four beautiful eggs. a clump of willows a little elevated stood about 6 feet from the pool over which the bird had flown, and midway between the water and the willows, which overhung it the nest was placed. this was simply a slight depression made by the bird in the moss and dry grass, and except from its concealed situation and being a little more expanded, there was no particular distinction between it and those of the more familiar killdeer plover and spotted sandpiper, though the lining was probably of a warmer texture, being of fine dry grass, while the eggs, as in the case of all the ground nesting waders, were arranged with the small ends inward. a colorado nest is thus described by robert b. rockwell (1912): this nest was located on (and above) the surface of slightly damp ground at the edge of a good-sized area of very soft, boggy land formed by the seepage under the dyke of the big barr lake. it was built in the center of a tussock of grass about 8 inches in length and was a very neat, well-shaped, and cupped nest composed entirely of fine dry grass. in construction it was far superior to any shore bird's nest i have ever seen, being so compactly and strongly put together that it was possible to remove it from the nesting site without injury. in general appearance the nest itself is not unlike certain sparrows' nests. a nest photographed for me by f. seymour hersey, near the mouth of the yukon river, alaska, was in a very wet spot on the border of a marsh; it was a deep hollow prettily arched over with dry grasses at the base of a small willow bush. the wilson snipe is often a close sitter and sometimes will not leave the nest until nearly trodden upon. w. j. brown (1912) tells of a case where he stroked the bird on the back and had to lift her off the nest to photograph the eggs. mr. sutton (1923) has published a full and very interesting account of the breeding habits of the wilson snipe in crawford county, pennsylvania, where he found several nests in a large, wet swamp among cattails and grasses; of the first nest he says: the nest was beautifully situated in the center of a clump of dried fern stalks--a clump similar to hundreds of just such little islands near at hand but certainly admirably suited to such a nesting site, for the eggs were almost completely surrounded at the short distance of 4 inches by a paling of dead fern stalks. the eggs were about 9 inches above water at this time, although the water's depth changed constantly with every rainfall, and five days later the outer rim of the nest was only 2 inches above water level. another was built upon a bit of decayed, sunken log and was composed entirely of grass stems rather carefully laid together. the eggs were but a few inches above the surface of the water, and although grass stems connected the nesting site with other vegetation the nest was virtually on an island surrounded by water 18 inches deep. and of still another he says: this nest was the only snipe nest i have seen which had any real protection from above. the nest was so placed under a dead willow branch and some leaning cat-tail stalks that it was really difficult to see it. the grasses composing the nest had been placed with care and were somewhat woven about the cat-tail stalks and other grasses standing near. _eggs._--four eggs is the normal number laid by the snipe; rarely five eggs are laid. they are about ovate pyriform in shape and slightly glossy. the ground colors vary from "buckthorn brown" or "isabella color" in the darkest types to "deep olive buff" or "dark olive buff" in the lighter types, which are much commoner. as a rule the eggs are boldly spotted and blotched, chiefly about the larger end; but often they are spotted more or less evenly over the entire surface. the markings are in dark shades of brown, "burnt umber," "bister," or "bone brown." often there are splashes or scrawls of brownish black, or black, at the larger end. "snuff brown," "vinaceous drab," or "brownish drab" under spots or blotches often occur. the measurements of 57 eggs average 38.6 by 28.1 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =42.4= by 29.5, =36.1= by =29.9=, and 37.5 by =25.5= millimeters. _young._--the period of incubation is from 18 to 20 days, and it is shared by both sexes. mr. philipp (1925) says that three birds taken from the nest were all males. the young leave the nest soon after they are hatched, and wander about in the long grass, where their concealing coloration makes them very hard to find. one day, while watching snipe with j. r. whitaker on a large marsh near the mouth of sandy river in newfoundland, i saw a snipe several times go down into the grass at a certain place. thinking to find a nest there i made a careful search, and finally found one small downy young; but not another one could i find in a long hunt. this moist meadow full of grassy hummocks is a great breeding place for snipe. here we frequently saw snipe sitting in trees, bushes, or on telegraph poles, uttering their loud _kep kep kep_ notes of protest. on the girders of a steel bridge that spans the river at this point mr. whitaker has seen as many as five snipe perched at one time. mr. sutton (1923) describes the behavior of an anxious mother as follows: the mother's antics so claimed my attention that i did not keep close enough watch of the young, and eventually was unable to find them. i hesitated to tramp about much at the time for fear of stepping upon them. the mother bird grunted and clucked incessantly and fell upon her side uttering weird cries, and beating her wings pitiably. at times she would dart into the air and circle about in great haste, very close to me and alight in the tall grass, whence she would run gracefully away until she was again plainly in view. as she ran about her head was held rather stiffly, and it seemed that moving it from side to side much caused her inconvenience. in fact once or twice a definite impression was given that she was carrying something in her mouth, her head was held at such a strained angle. _plumages._--the young snipe in its dark and richly-colored natal down is one of the handsomest of the young waders. the upper parts, including the crown, back, wings, and thighs, are variegated or marbled with velvety black, "bay," "chestnut," and "amber brown"; the down is mainly black at the base and brown-tipped; the entire upper parts are spotted with small round white spots at the tips of some of the down filaments, producing a beautiful effect of color contrasts and a surprisingly protective coloration. the head is distinctively marked with a white spot on the forehead, a black crescent above it and a black triangle below it, partially concealed by brown tips; there is a distinct black loral stripe, extending faintly beyond the eye, and a less distinct black malar stripe; between these two is a conspicuous, large, white, cheek patch. the chin and upper throat are "light ochraceous buff"; below this on the lower throat is a large sooty-black area, partially concealed by brown tips, these "tawny" brown tips predominating on the breast and flanks, and shading off to "pale pinkish cinnamon" on the belly. the juvenal plumage appears first on the back and scapulars, then on the breast and wing coverts. a bird in my collection, about half grown has the above parts well feathered and the remiges one-third grown; but the head and rump are still downy and the rectrices have not yet started. the juvenal plumage is like the adult, except that the buff edgings of the feathers on the sides of the back and the scapulars, forming the stripes, are narrower and paler, sometimes almost white on the outer webs. the body feathers and some of the scapulars and tertials are molted during the fall, making the young bird almost indistinguishable from the adult. both young birds and adults have a partial prenuptial molt in the late winter and early spring, involving the contour feathers, wing coverts, tertials, and the tail. adults have a complete molt between july and october. the spring and fall plumages are alike except that the fresh fall plumage is somewhat more richly colored. _food._--the feeding habits of the wilson snipe are much like those of the woodcock, except that it often feeds in much wetter places and is somewhat less nocturnal. benjamin t. gault (1902) discovered by observation that snipe occasionally resort to open mud flats, unmindful of the cover of darkness and that they feed at all hours of the day. he describes their method of feeding as follows: the snipe seemed to select as special feeding grounds the water line just bordering the flats, where the mud was soft and into which they delighted in sinking their bills to the fullest depth. and in withdrawing them they never elevated their necks in true sandpiper style. on the contrary they kept their heads well "chucked down," so to speak, and in moving about from place to place, which they seldom did, however, continue to hold them in the same fashion. in some respect their probing methods resembled the rooting of swine--a simple, up and down forward movement, and if remembered rightly, without lateral twists or side thrusts of any kind, and at times exposing fully one-half of the bill. whether the wilson snipe actually do resort to the so-called "suction" method of procuring their food is a question still undetermined in my mind. the glasses however brought out the important information that the probing or feeling movements of the bill were accompanied every now and then with a guttural or swallowing motion of the throat, which at times developed into a decided gulp, as though large morsels of some kind were being taken down, and this _without the removal of the bill from the muck_. henry w. henshaw (1875) describes an entirely different method of feeding; he says: in migrating, however, especially in arizona and new mexico, did it depend wholly upon its usual methods of obtaining sustenance, it would fare badly, since, in some sections, there is a total lack of meadow and marsh, and then it may be seen in broad midday running along the sandy borders of the streams, and picking up from among the pebbles and _dã©bris_ any tidbits in the shape of insects it can find. it retains, however, even under these adverse conditions, its habit of squatting, and, when approached closely i have seen it lower its body close to the ground, shrink as it were into as little space as possible, and so remain till i was within a few feet, when it would get up with its well known _scaip_, _scaip_, and, following the turns and sinuosities of the streams, endeavor to find some little covered nook into which it could drop out of sight. m. p. skinner watched a snipe feeding on the muddy shore of a pond in the yellowstone valley; he says in his notes: he was about 6 inches from shore and at each stroke his bill went in up to his eyes. the strokes were rapid like those of a woodpecker. he covered a space perhaps 4 inches wide and 15 feet long in an hour, getting something every half dozen strokes or so. he was very busy there for two hours at least. earthworms probably constitute the principal food of the wilson snipe, but it also eats cutworms, wireworms, leaches, grasshoppers, locusts, beetles, mosquitoes, other insects and their larvae, and some seeds of marsh plants. _behavior._--snipe are notorious for their erratic flight and they often, probably usually, do dodge and zigzag when they first flush in alarm, but not always; i have seen them fly away as steadily as any other shore bird. snipe usually lie closely crouched on the ground trusting to their excellent protective coloration, and do not flush until nearly trodden upon; so that in their hurry to get away their flight is erratic. when well under way their flight is steady and swift with the occasional turnings common to all shore birds. when first flushed they generally fly low, but when flying from one part of a marsh to another, or when migrating, they fly very high. when alighting they pitch down suddenly from a great height and then flutter down slowly into the grass or drop straight down with wings elevated and bill pointing upwards. they are less gregarious than other waders; they usually flush singly, but often within a few yards of each other if plentiful. they are seldom seen in flocks. john t. nichols tells me in his notes of a flock of seven which he saw on long island: they were flying high from the east to west, the regular southward lane for shore birds, and bunched up like dowitchers or yellow-legs as they circled over the marsh, then slanted down obliquely (as these other birds would have done) to alight on a piece of dead stubble. by the time i reached them they had scattered somewhat; four (scattered) and three (bunched) flushed from this spot in close succession, and went off into the southwest. the migration of the snipe may be mostly by night; it certainly flies to some extent along the coast by day. and harry s. swarth (1922) says: while the usual manner of occurrence was for a single bird to be flushed, or perhaps two or three within a few square yards, there were times when snipe were noted in small flocks, almost like sandpipers in their actions. groups of 10 or 12 individuals were seen circling about through the air in close formation and wheeling or turning in perfect unison. at such times almost the only thing to betray the identity of the birds was the call note, uttered at frequent intervals. at no time, however, did birds flushed from the ground depart in flock formation. on the ground the snipe moves about deliberately with bill pointing downwards. if alarmed it squats for concealment before jumping into flight when hard pressed; the longitudinal stripes on its back and head so closely resemble prostrate stems of dead grass that the bird is difficult to distinguish. mr. skinner "saw one alight and run rapidly along the ground for 20 feet, erect with head high, like a running bob white." c. j. pennock watched one standing on a bare mud flat with "a continued up and down rhythmic movement of the entire body." e. h. forbush (1925) writes: the snipe can swim and dive and uses both wings and feet under water in its efforts to escape. mr. will h. parsons writes that he shot one that fell into a little clear streamlet where later he found it dead, under water, grasping a rootlet in its bill. later, on the scioto river, as he relates, he shot another which fell into the river, and, turning, swam back toward the shore. on seeing him approach it dived, and he saw it grasp a weed with its bill. wading in he secured the bird "stone dead." _voice._--eliminating the winnowing flight notes, which are unquestionably instrumental, the wilson snipe has a variety of vocal notes. the one most often heard is the familiar _scaipe_ note, a note of alarm and warning, given as the bird rises in hurried flight. this note has been variously expressed in writing, perhaps best by the word "escape", which the snipe often does, unless the sportsman is smart enough to say "no you don't," and prove it. "on the breeding grounds we frequently hear its loud notes of protest, uttered while it is flying about or perched on some tree or post; these are in the form of a loud clear whistle, like _wheat wheat wheat wheat_ or more subdued in tone like _whuck whuck whuck whuck_; they are always rapidly uttered and usually consist of four or five notes. e. w. nelson (1887) refers to a similar note heard on the breeding grounds, as _yak yak yak yak_ in quick, energetic, explosive syllables. at the time when the bird is uttering its note, it flies along within a short distance of the ground with a peculiar jerky movement of the body and wings as every note is uttered." mr. nichols says in his notes: when a bird gets up almost from underfoot, the _scape_ is at times replaced by a series of short, hurried notes of similar character. it is interesting to find in the wilson's snipe this imperfect differentiation of a note uttered at the moment of taking wing from one uttered when in or approaching full flight--as it is a condition slightly different from the calls of other more social shore birds which trust comparatively little to concealment, take wing while danger is still at a distance with hurried minor notes, so soft as to readily escape notice, and have each a loud diagnostic flight call of much service in their identification. the _scape_ of the snipe has sufficient resemblance to the woodcock's _peent_, which forms a part of the nuptial performance of that species, to leave little doubt that the two are homologous (that is, of the same derivation), if we assume snipe and woodcock to be related. it is, however, more analogous (that is, of corresponding place or purpose) with the wing twitter of the woodcock. its harsh quality is in keeping with the voices of unrelated denisons of marsh and swamp, herons, rails, frogs, etc., and the discords of close-by bog sounds continually in its ears. the quality of the snipe's call contrasts sharply with the peculiarly clear, mellow whistle of the black-breasted plover, for instance, and ringing calls of species of similar habit, with carrying power over the open distances of their haunts. the connecting series of limicoline voices, through the reedy calls of such marsh-loving birds as the pectoral sandpiper, leaves little doubt that there is a correlation between habitat and quality of voice. in some notes from alaska, he writes: july 17, on the slope of a low, gentle, tundra hill a little way back from the shore, ahead of me a snipe fluttered up a short distance, then down; up, then down; accompanying this performance with _chup chup chup chup chup chew chew chew chew chew_. it alighted in a comparatively open space with a couple of small bog holes of water, surrounded with a circle of scrub willows, and here i presently flushed it again. it rose with a _chape_ note, more muffled and reedy than the ordinary wilson snipe _scape_, and, curving downwind, rose higher, attaining considerable elevation in the distance, as i followed it with my glass. it now began to zigzag up and down, maintaining approximately its position in the sky to leeward. meanwhile i heard an unfamiliar more or less whistled _peep-er-weep_ once or twice, and an intermittent winnowing sound, _wish wish wish wish wish_, etc. being uncertain as to whether these sounds came from the distant snipe, or from some other bird closer at hand in the air, i took my glasses off the former to look about me, and as i feared i should do, lost track of it in the sky. presently the winnowing ceased and i began to hear a continuous harsh _cuta-cuta-cuta-cuta_ from over the brow of the hill, which turned out to be a snipe, presumably the same one which had returned, standing on top of the only stake thereabouts. _field marks._--the wilson snipe should be easily recognized by its long bill, its erratic flight, its conspicuous stripes, and the rufous near the end of its tail. the harsh _scaipe_ note is diagnostic. it might be confused with the dowitcher, but the flight, notes, and usual haunts of the latter are different. i have often thought that the pectoral sandpiper resembles the snipe, as it rises from the grass, but it lacks the long bill, and is not so conspicuously striped on the back. _fall._--the fall migration of snipe is dependent on the weather, the first early frosts are apt to start them along; when the brilliant red leaves of the swamp maples add their touch of color to the marshes, and when the vegetation in the meadows begins to take on the rich hues of autumn, then we may look for the coming of the snipe. they are by no means confined to fresh-water marshes at this season. i have occasionally flushed a wilson snipe on the salt marshes of cape cod, and have frequently found them on the dry grassy shores of islands in inland ponds. wells w. cooke (1914) says: they seem reluctant to return south in fall, even though they can have no appreciation of the constant persecution which awaits them during the six months' sojourn in their winter home. a few migrants appear in the northern part of the united states in early september, and, moving slowly southward, reach the southern part of the gulf states shortly after the middle of october. soon the main body of the birds follows, and all normally keep south of the line of frozen ground. yet every winter some laggards remain much farther north, feeding about springs or streams. a few can usually be found on cape cod, mass., while in the rocky mountains, near sweetwater lake, colorado, the presence of warm springs has enabled snipe to remain throughout an entire winter, though the air temperature fell to 30â° f. below zero. mr. brewster (1906) writes: during exceptionally wet autumns snipe occasionally resort in large numbers to the highly cultivated truck farms of arlington and belmont. an interesting instance of this happened in september, 1875, when a flight, larger than any that i have known to occur in the cambridge region before or since, settled in some water-soaked fields covered with crops of corn, potatoes, cabbages, etc., on the hittinger farm, belmont. learning of the presence of these birds about a week after their arrival, i visited the place early the next morning, but all save 10 or a dozen of them had departed, owing no doubt, to the fact that there had been a hard frost during the preceding night. the borings and other signs which they had left convinced me, however, that the statement made to me at the time by mr. jacob hittinger, to the effect that he had started _four or five hundred snipe_ there only the day before, was probably not an exaggeration of the truth. _game._--the wilson snipe, improperly called "jack snipe," but more properly called "english snipe," is one of our most popular game birds. probably more snipe have been killed by sportsmen than any other game bird. it ranks ahead of all other shore birds and upland game birds except, possibly, the woodcock, ruffed grouse, and quail. when the startling cry of the snipe arouses the sportsman to instant action he realizes that he is up against a real gamey proposition. he must be a good shot indeed to make a creditable score against such quick erratic flyers. a tramp over the open meadows, brown, red, and golden in their autumn livery, with one or two good dogs quartering the ground in plain sight and with an occasional shot at a swiftly flying bird, is one of the delights of a crisp autumn day. the birds will lie closely on a calm day, but on a windy, blustering day they are restless and wild. it is well to hunt down wind as the birds usually rise against the wind and will fly towards and then quartering away from the shooter. when two men hunt along a narrow marsh, the man on the windward side will get most of the shooting. snipe are usually shot on wet meadows or marshes, but that they are often found in other places is shown by the following quotations from dwight w. huntington (1903): audubon says the snipe is never found in the woods, but forester mentions finding it in wild, windy weather early in the season in the skirts of moist woodlands under sheltered lee sides of young plantations, among willow, alder, and brier brakes, and, in short, wherever there is good, soft, springy feeding ground perfectly sheltered and protected from the wind by trees and shrubbery. abbott says: "during the autumn i have found them along neglected meadow ditches overhung by large willow trees, and again hidden in the reeds along the banks of creeks. i have shot them repeatedly in wet woodland meadows. i have often found snipe in bushy tracts and among the swamp willows, but i have never seen them in the forest, and believe they so rarely resort to the woods that it would not be worth while to seek them there." snipe must have been exceedingly abundant 50 or 60 years ago, as the oft-quoted achievements of james j. pringle (1899) will illustrate. he was not a market hunter but a gentleman (?) sportsman, who shot for the fun of it and gave the birds away to his friends. his excuses for excessive slaughter and his apologies for not killing more are interesting; he writes: the birds being such great migrants, and only in the country for a short time, i had no mercy on them and killed all i could, for a snipe once missed might never be seen again. i shot with only one gun at a time; had no loader, but loaded my gun myself; had i shot with two guns and had a loader i would, of course, have killed a great many more birds, but in those days and in those parts it was impossible to get a man that could be trusted to load. during the 20 years from 1867 to 1887 he shot, on his favorite hunting grounds in louisiana, 69,087 snipe and a total of 71,859 of all game birds; but his shooting fell off during the next 10 years for he increased his grand total of snipe to only 78,602 and of all game birds to only 82,101! his best day, undoubtedly a world's record, was december 11, 1877, when he shot in six hours 366 snipe and 8 other birds. on his best seven consecutive shooting days, alternate days in december, 1877, he killed 1,943 snipe and 25 other birds. during the winter of 1874-75 he killed 6,615 snipe. captain bogardus, the famous trap shot, killed, with the help of a friend, 340 snipe on one day in illinois, and seldom got less than 150 on good days. with such excessive shooting all through the fall, winter, and spring, is it to be wondered at that the snipe have decreased in numbers? _winter._--as mentioned above snipe spend the winters in small numbers as far north as they can find unfrozen marshes and spring holes, but their main winter resorts are in the southern states, the west indies, and northern south america. they were formerly enormously abundant in the marshes and savannas of florida and the other gulf states, where they are still common in winter. c. j. pennock tells me that they are still abundant all winter about st. marks, florida, his earliest and latest dates being september 12 and may 10. arthur t. wayne (1910) says that, in south carolina, the snipe "are most abundant during the months of february and march, and at that time multitudes frequent the rice plantations, provided the water is not too deep over the land." j. h. bowles (1918) says that in washington "cold weather does not seem to bother them much. on january 1, 1916, when all fresh-water marshes were frozen over, large numbers of them gathered on the tacoma flats." mr. skinner writes to me that in yellowstone park they are found in winter along creeks and rivers kept open by warm springs and on ground overflowed by warm water from the hot springs. aiken and warren (1914) tell of the winter habits of the wilson snipe, in el paso county, colorado, as follows: fountain creek rarely freezes over entirely below its exit from the mountains, and along its banks there are many places where water that runs through the sand comes to the surface and forms springy holes and marshy meadows which are warmer than surface water. these become the winter feeding grounds for the snipe and one or a pair often content themselves with a very small area of muck. but at times of severe cold many of the smaller holes freeze and then the snipe concentrate at places where a larger flow of water keeps the holes open. on january 15, 1908, with 6 inches of snow on the ground and below zero weather aiken visited a small beaver pond on the skinner ranch 6 miles south of colorado springs. a bit of marsh above the pond and a short stretch of ooze along the outlet below remained open, and in this small area of one-fourth of an acre were 25 to 30 snipe. some years ago a snipe was found running upon the ice when everything in the vicinity was frozen solid. a few snipe winter along banks of streams in the mountains. that snipe know enough to protect themselves from storms may be illustrated by narrating here one of aiken's experiences in utah about 20 years ago. he was beating a snipe marsh near one edge of which extended a narrow arroyo or gully in which were some trees and bushes. the weather had been fair until without warning a heavy snow storm set in. at once snipe began to rise wildly from different parts of the marsh and one after another directed their flight toward the same point in the arroyo and dove between its banks. upon investigation 8 or 10 snipe were found together in a little cave in the side of the arroyo that was partly hidden by bushes so that they were well protected from any storm. we conclude this was not the first time the snipe had resorted to this friendly shelter since they knew so well where to go. distribution _range._--north america, central america, the west indies, and northern south america. accidental in the hawaiian islands. _breeding range._--north to alaska (shumagin islands, bethel, st. michael, nome, kowak river, cape smith, and fort yukon); mackenzie (la pierre house, fort anderson, dease river, and fort smith); northeastern manitoba (fort churchill); northern ontario (cape henrietta maria); ungava (fort george and great whale river); labrador (nain); and newfoundland (halls bay, grand lake, and st. johns). east to labrador (nain); newfoundland (st. johns); eastern quebec (magdalen islands); nova scotia (baddeck and halifax); maine (calais and waldo county); massachusetts (salem and brookline); connecticut (portland); new york (croton falls); new jersey (newfoundland, norristown, trenton); and southeastern pennsylvania (mill grove). south to southeastern pennsylvania (mill grove); northwestern pennsylvania (meadville); northern ohio (fremont); northern indiana (miami, english lake, and cedar lake); northern illinois (hinsdale and winnebago); iowa (sabula, grinnell, and boone); colorado (estes park, barr, san luis lake, and silverton); utah (parleys park and fairfield); southwestern idaho (nampa); and northern california (sierra valley and shasta valley). west to northern california (shasta valley); oregon (fort klamath, corvallis, and salem); washington (yakima and olympia); british columbia (chilliwack, vancouver, and metlakatla); and alaska (sitka, kodiak, nushagak, and shumagin islands). wilson's snipe also have been detected in summer north to chimo, ungava, hopedale, labrador, and sandwich bay, quebec, and have been found lingering (probably non-breeders) south to chloride, new mexico, and corpus christi and san angelo, texas, while there is one breeding record for northern los angeles county, california (mailliard, 1914). _winter range._--the wilson snipe winters regularly north to washington (tacoma); british columbia (chilliwack and okanagan landing); wyoming (yellowstone park); colorado (el paso county); southern arizona (tucson and fort huachuca); southern new mexico (rio mimbres); texas (austin, kerrville, and bonham); oklahoma (caddo); arkansas (fayetteville and stuttgart); alabama (coosada and montgomery county); central north carolina (raleigh); and southeastern virginia (virginia beach); eastern north carolina (pea islands); bermuda; south carolina (charleston); georgia (savannah and blackbeard island); florida (canaveral, orlando, kissimmee, and royal palm hammock); bahama islands (new providence, watling islands, and great inagua); porto rico (guanica lagoon); and the lesser antilles (antigua, st. vincent, barbados, grenada, and trinidad). south to the lesser antilles (trinidad); northern venezuela (caracas); brazil (rio de janeiro); colombia (medellin and puerto berrio); and panama (frijole and chitra). west to panama (chitra and the canal zone); costa rica (san jose); nicaragua (greytown and the escondido river); honduras (comayagua and manatee lagoon); guatemala (duenas and atitlan); mexico (guanajuato, escuinapa, mazatlan, san jose del cabo, and colonia diaz); california (salton sea, santa barbara, san francisco, and eureka); and washington (tacoma). it also has been known to winter (where warm springs or other factors assure open water) north to nevada (paradise), utah (provo), montana (terry, helena, and near bozeman), wyoming (como and cody), colorado (fountain creek, sweetwater lake, clear creek near denver, and near julesburg), nebraska (holt, sioux, dawes, and cherry counties, and along the missouri river), north dakota (fort yates), iowa (hancock county), wisconsin (milwaukee), michigan (grand rapids), southern ontario (barrie), ohio (granville), new york (oneida, onondaga lake, poughkeepsie, ithaca, new york city, and long island), connecticut (portland and new haven), massachusetts (jamaica plain, near boston, peabody, hancock, and cape cod), and nova scotia (wolfville). it has been detected in alaska at wrangell, on november 11, 1920, and at craig, on december 7, 1919. _spring migration._--early dates of arrival in the spring are: district of columbia, washington, february 17; pennsylvania, philadelphia, march 7, harrisburg, march 11, carlisle, march 18, berwyn, march 21, and meadville, march 22; new jersey, fort mott, march 16, and pennsville, march 20; new york, syracuse, february 26, branchport, march 5, orient point, march 12, buffalo, march 13, brockport, march 18, lansing, march 29, oswego, april 1, and ithaca, april 3; connecticut, portland, march 18, and new haven, march 19; massachusetts, lynn, march 2, newburyport, march 8, boston, march 19, somerset, march 21, and salem, march 21; vermont, rutland, april 2; maine, farmington, april 6, and lewiston, april 8; quebec, quebec, april 18, montreal, april 19, and godbout, may 5; new brunswick, scotch lake, april 5, petitcodiac, april 27, and chatham, april 28; nova scotia, halifax, april 5, pictou, april 11, and kentville, april 19; kentucky, bowling green, february 24, guthrie, february 25, and russellville, february 26; missouri, st. louis, february 17, old orchard, february 20, chillicothe, march 2, jonesburg, march 11, and kansas city, march 14; illinois, lebanon, february 11, odin, march 6, addison, march 10, carlinville, march 11, englewood, march 15, morgan park, march 17, rockford, march 19, and wheaton, march 26; indiana, bicknell, february 13, greensburg, february 28, frankfort, march 4, greencastle, march 5, bloomington, march 6, brookville, march 7, terre haute, march 9, vincennes, march 11, and waterloo, march 12; ohio, granville, march 3, cleveland, march 4, columbus, march 8, hudson, march 11, sandusky, march 13, oberlin, march 15, and new bremen, march 18; michigan, ann arbor, march 6, vicksburg, march 18, hillsdale, march 21, kalamazoo, march 22, battle creek, march 24, manchester, march 25, and detroit, march 28; ontario, dunnville, march 24, madoc, march 29, queensboro, march 30, and listowel, april 1; iowa, sabula, march 15, boone, march 17, grinnell, march 18, keokuk, march 18, coralville, march 19, wall lake, march 22, cedar rapids, march 23, and sioux city, march 28; wisconsin. hillside, march 16, madison, march 18, elkhorn, march 19, waukesha, march 20, delavan, march 23, and racine, march 24; minnesota, hutchinson, march 30, minneapolis, march 29, heron lake, april 1, and elk river, april 2; oklahoma, copan, march 8; kansas, emporia, march 14, independence, march 19, and wichita, march 19; nebraska, falls city, march 15, and badger, march 25; south dakota, forestburg, march 12, huron, march 15, and sioux falls, march 15; north dakota, fargo, april 15, larimore, april 16, lisbon, april 18, and grafton, april 19; manitoba, greenridge, april 2, dalton, april 8, reaburn, april 9, margaret, april 10, aweme, april 14, and shell river, april 16; saskatchewan, qu'appelle, april 9, and indian head, april 20; colorado, denver, march 10, boulder, march 19, and sweetwater lake, march 26; wyoming, yellowstone park, march 16; idaho, neeley, march 24, meridian, april 9, and payette lake, april 17; montana, missoula, march 4, helena, march 12, and columbia falls, march 27; alberta, onoway, april 13, carvel, april 15, and edmonton, april 21; and mackenzie, fort providence, may 2, and fort simpson, may 10. late dates of departure in the spring are: costa rica, february 16; haiti, april 13; florida, tallahassee, april 10, fruitland park, april 10, gainesville, april 15, and st. marks, may 10; georgia, cumberland, april 14, and savannah, april 15; south carolina, columbia, april 19, and charleston, may 1; chihuahua, lake palomas, april 8; lower california, colnett, april 8, and salton river, april 19; and texas, kerrville, april 11, bonham, april 30, and austin, april 30. _fall migration._--early dates of arrival in the fall are: texas, tivoli, august 19; lower california, san jose del cabo, august 28; chihuahua, janos river, september 5, and chuechupa, september 19; sonora, august 19; south carolina, frogmore, september 10; georgia, savannah, september 15; florida, st. marks, september 12; lesser antilles, st. croix, september 24, and barbadoes, october 11; porto rico, guanica lagoon, september 29; costa rica, october 9; and panama, canal zone, october 7. late dates of departure in the fall are: montana, big sandy, october 24, and missoula, december 5; idaho, meridian, november 21, and ketchum, december 20; wyoming, sundance, november 25, and yellowstone park, december 9; utah, provo, november 25; colorado, greeley, november 3, and boulder, december 24; manitoba, killarney, october 24, aweme, november 5, and margaret, november 10; north dakota, chase lake, october 21, westhope, november 3, and marstonmoor, november 3; south dakota, harrison, october 24, and sioux falls, november 22; nebraska, falls city, november 20, crawford, december 7, and broken bow, december 12; kansas, independence, december 13; minnesota, elk river, november 1, jackson, november 6, parkers prairie, november 7, fort snelling, november 13, and heron lake, november 14; wisconsin, unity, november 3, madison, november 6, elkhorn, november 8, shiocton, november 13, north freedom, november 14, and milwaukee, november 15; iowa, davenport, november 2, grinnell, november 4, hillsboro, november 11, indianola, november 15, marshalltown, november 18, wall lake, november 28, and keokuk, november 28; ontario, toronto, october 29, longpoint, november 2, windsor, november 9, kingston, november 12, ottawa, november 17, and point pelee, november 21; michigan, hillsdale, november 3, ann arbor, november 5, manistee, november 7, manchester, november 12, detroit, november 15, and vicksburg, december 30; ohio, scio, november 6, salem, november 16, oberlin, november 22, youngstown, november 21, sandusky, december 2, and cleveland, december 29; indiana, bloomington, october 24, bicknell, november 9, and lyons, november 25; illinois, glen ellyn, november 4, canton, november 8, fernwood, november 13, lawrenceville, november 15, elgin, november 17, and la grange, november 23; missouri, st. louis, november 21, and st. charles county, december 14; nova scotia, pictou, october 24, and halifax, december 3; new brunswick, scotch lake, october 20, and st. john, november 5; quebec, quebec, november 5, and montreal, november 13; maine, lewiston, november 5, ellsworth, november 8, and portland, november 15; massachusetts, east templeton, november 23, salem, november 25, lynn, december 20, and belchertown, december 20; rhode island, newport, december 3; connecticut, new haven, december 1, portland, december 7, and lakeville, december 28; new york, geneva, november 3, west winfield, november 13, fair haven light, november 17, branchport, november 24, shelter island, november 29, madison county, december 10, and orient point, december 20; new jersey, bloomfield, november 1, camden, november 7, egg island, november 8, and pennsville, december 1; pennsylvania, berwyn, november 1, and erie, november 21; and district of columbia, washington, december 22. _casual records._--a wilson's snipe was killed at naaleho plantation, kau, hawaiian islands, several years prior to 1900 and a second was reported as seen in the same locality in the fall of the same year (henshaw, 1902). it also has been reported as taken in great britain, but the record is too doubtful to warrant serious consideration. _egg dates._--magdalen islands: 36 records, june 1 to 27; 18 records, june 3 to 14. alberta: 39 records, may 16 to july; 20 records, may 28 to june 10. utah: 48 records, may 8 to july 24; 24 records, may 12 to june 2. capella media (latham) great snipe _contributed by francis charles robert jourdain_ habits the claim of this species to a place on the american list rests on a specimen obtained from the hudson's bay company in canada many years ago and now in the collection of the british museum. its breeding home is in northern europe and asia, but on migration and during the winter months it has been met with in the british isles, throughout southern europe and africa south to the cape province, as well as southern asia from india westward. unlike the common snipe, it frequently occurs singly and is by no means confined to marshy spots, but may be met with on rough pastures, moorlands, and fields. to this characteristic it owes its name of "solitary snipe." _spring._--on the northward migration it is of very rare occurrence in the british isles, and has only been recorded on a few occasions in morocco, but of regular occurrence in south spain; but is not uncommon on passage in malta in april and may and occurs in small numbers in italy in april and may and in corfu and epirus in march, also migrating in greater numbers along the west coast of the black sea. probably the majority of the birds which visit south africa make their way northward along the east side of the continent. the northerly movement begins in natal in january or february, so that it extends over a period of four or five months. _courtship._--observations on the courtship of this species are not numerous, for it is nocturnal in its habits and, except during the mating season, decidedly unsociable. in western europe there has been a great diminution of the breeding stock of late years. jutland, which was at one time a well-known breeding place, has long been entirely deserted, and it is necessary to visit the morasses of scandinavia and esthonia or finland and russia before one can make the acquaintance of this species in any numbers on its nesting ground. unlike the common and jack snipe, there are no aerial evolutions to call attention to the display, but the whole is conducted on the ground between sunset and sunrise; and as the notes of the birds are not loud, it may well be imagined that it may readily be overlooked. the number of birds which attend at the "spil," as it is called in norway, or "tok" (russian), varies from eight to a dozen pairs to twenty or more in districts where the birds are comparatively common. here late in may the males may be heard uttering low warbling notes, producing also sounds which have been compared to those made by running the nail along the teeth of a comb, and snapping their bills together, evidently in defiance. the display consists in expanding the tail like a fan and turning it over toward the back, the white outer feathers standing out conspicuously, with drooping wings and depressed and retracted head. in this attitude they perform a kind of dance, slowly at first, but becoming more and more rapid, and generally culminating in a series of fights between the rivals. r. collett, who furnished a long and detailed description of the procedure at one of these "leks" to dresser (1871), is of opinion that the fighting is not of a serious character and consists chiefly of feeble slashes with the wings, but the russian naturalist alphã©raky, a translation of whose interesting paper on the subject appeared in the field for 1906 (p. 1075) with an illustration of the display, describes the ground as often strewn with feathers after these encounters. in the more northern latitudes there is of course little darkness, but there is a consensus of opinion that the display dies down about midnight and commences again as it becomes lighter. alphã©raky ascribes this to the arrival of the females on the scene. clear and bright nights are most favorable for this performance, which seems to have some points of resemblance to that of the ruff and some to that of the black grouse (_lyrurus tetrix_), but a series of observations are required before we can reconcile the discrepancies and fill up the gaps in the descriptions. according to collett there is a period in the display when the bird is in a kind of ecstasy and produces a series of varied notes beginning with a whistle or two, followed by a snapping noise with five or six notes in rapid succession, then a hissing sound, followed by a rolling _sbirrrr_, which becomes deeper as uttered. a number of birds displaying at the same time produces a low continuous chorus of varied sounds. this is the more remarkable as the great snipe is at other seasons a particularly silent bird, and indeed is rarely heard to utter a sound of any kind, usually rising in silence. _nesting._--the sites vary according to locality. in jutland they were usually on grassy flats, but in scandinavia generally on broken ground with birch scrub here and there. here the female scratches a hollow among the moss and deposits her four handsome eggs. f. and p. godman (1861), who found several nests in the bodã¶ district, norway, discovered one which had an incomplete set of two eggs. on returning two days later to the spot nothing was visible but some disarranged bits of moss. alarmed by their approach the bird flew off, leaving a hole in the moss through which the eggs were visible. on a third visit the bird was found incubating the two eggs, which were on the point of hatching, and was covered with fragments of moss which she had evidently torn up and thrown over herself. none of the other nests found were concealed in any way. _eggs._--these are normally four in number, though occasionally three may be met with. they are pyriform in shape with a pale stone colored ground and boldly spotted and blotched with dark umber, shading into black and numerous ashy gray shell markings. the markings are usually denser and more concentrated at the big end, often with a tendency to a zone. the measurements of 100 eggs from northern europe (69 by the writer, 19 by goebel, and 12 by rey) average 45.3 by 31.8 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =48.8= by 31.9, 46.2 by =33.3=, =41.2= by 31.7, and 46.5 by =29.5= millimeters. rey (1905) gives the average weight as 1.107 g. and goebel as 1.035 g. _young._--as to the share of the sexes in incubation our information is scanty; but, such as it is, goes to prove that it is conducted by the female alone. naumann (1887) gives the period as 17 to 18 days and states that as soon as the young are dried they leave the nest and take to the long grass which effectually conceals them. _plumages._--the reader is referred to a practical handbook of british birds, edited by h. f. witherby (1920), where a complete account of the plumages and molts of this species is given. _food._--naumann (1887) records small worms, insect larvae, small snails, coleoptera, water insects, and larvae of phryganeidae. yarrell (1871) includes larvae of insects, especially tipulidae, and small slugs as well as worms. these last seem to form the staple diet. _behavior._--the family parties soon break up and from late autumn to its arrival on the breeding grounds it is more likely to be met with singly than in company. its flight is not so rapid as that of the common snipe, but slower and more direct, while instead of uttering the well known _scape_, it either rises in silence or merely utters a guttural croaking note. _fall._--more frequently met with in the british isles on the autumn migration from the end of july to mid-november than in spring, but probably frequently overlooked. by the beginning of august the young are full grown normally, and gradually make their way from the high north in norway southward, the majority of migrants taking an easterly course and only a small proportion moving south-westward to the winter quarters. distribution _breeding range._--norway, north to tromsã¶, sweden, to latitude 65â° n., formerly in denmark but now extinct, as also in schleswig. it is said to have bred formerly in holland and still does so in east prussia and eastward to estonia, finland, russia, according to buturlin, up to latitude 63â° near the great lakes, 65-1/2â° on the white sea, and 67-1/2â° in the petchora, while southward it is said to breed in bessarabia (rumania) and in the governments of kieff, poltava, kharkoff, and voronsh, and to 51-1/2â° n. in the urals as well as in the caucasus. in asia it breeds near omsk, in the altai and the tributaries of the ob, but not beyond the yenesei or in east siberia. _winter range._--cape province, natal, transvaal (september to march), damara land, bechuana land, portuguese east africa, southwest africa, persia, turkestan, and india (once). _migration._--river zambesi, egypt (not uncommon), alexandria, etc., algeria, greece (april 23, may 7), cyprus, corfu (march), malta (march 30), naples, corsica (march 25), valencia (october 9), montenegro (april 15, 24), asia minor (may 9, sept. 21), fao, persian gulf, iraq (april, aug., sept.). _egg dates._--formerly in denmark from may 6 to june 8 (12 records), occasionally in july; in scandinavia from end of may to middle of july (10 records, june 13 to july 15). lymnocryptes minimus (brã¼nnich) jack snipe _contributed by francis charles robert jourdain_ habits sometime during the spring of 1919, probably in april, a specimen of this snipe was taken by a native on st. paul island, pribilof islands, alaska, and presented to g. dallas hanna. the bird is now in the collection of the california academy of sciences, and constitutes the only record for north america. it is, however, a widely distributed species, breeding not only in arctic europe, but also across the greater part of northern asia, and wintering south to north africa and southern asia. _courtship._--of the courtship actions in the strict sense of the words we have practically no observations, as this species has rarely been kept in captivity and then singly and for short periods. the nuptial flight is, however, more conspicuous and was described in the oft-quoted letter of john wolley, written from muoniovara on november 27th, 1853, to w. c. hewitson (1856), and published in the third edition of "coloured illustrations of the eggs of british birds" by that writer. to wolley belongs the credit of being the first to discover and bring to the knowledge of naturalists the eggs of this species, for the eggs previously ascribed to this species from localities much farther south were not by any means satisfactorily authenticated. wolley had been for some time at his headquarters on the borders of sweden and what is now finland, when, on june 17th, 1853, while working the great marsh at muonioniska, he first heard the jack snipe, though as he states: at the time i could not at all guess what it was--an extraordinary sound unlike anything i had heard before. i could not tell from what direction it came, and it filled me with a curious suspense. my finnish interpreter thought it was a capercally (_tetrao urogallus_) and at the time i could not contradict him; but soon i found that it was a small bird gliding at a wild pace at a great height over the marsh. i know not how better to describe the noise than by likening it to the cantering of a horse in the distance over a hard hollow road; it came in fours with a similar cadence and a like clear, yet hollow, sound. the same day we found a nest which seemed of a kind unknown to me. the next morning i went to kharto-uoma with a good strength of beaters. i kept them as well as i could in line, myself in the middle, my swedish traveling companion on one side, and the finn talker on the other. whenever a bird was put off its nest the man who saw it was to pass on the word and the whole line was to stand whilst i went to examine the eggs and take them at once or observe the bearings of the spot for another visit as might be necessary. we had not been many hours in the marsh when i saw a bird get up before herr saloman, and i marked it down. in the meantime the nest was found and when i came up the owner was declared to have appeared striped on the back and not white over the tail. a sight of the eggs, as they lay untouched, raised my expectations to the highest pitch. i went to the spot where i had marked the bird, put it up again, found that it was indeed a jack snipe, and again saw it after a short, low flight drop suddenly into cover; once more it rose a few feet from where it had settled, i fired and in a minute had in my hand a true jack snipe, the undoubted parent of the nest of eggs. in the course of the day and night i found three more nests and examined the birds of each. one allowed me to touch it with my hand before it rose, and another only got up when my foot was within 6 inches of it. it was very fortunate that i was thus able satisfactorily to identify so fine a series of eggs, for they differ considerably from one another. the great german ornithologist naumann (1887) also describes the nuptial flight, as observed by him in still weather on spring evenings; as scarcely audible at over a hundred paces and recalling the tapping noise made by the death-watch beetle. he writes the sound as "_tettettettettett_," etc., and says each note lasts six seconds at a time, as the bird sweeps over the marsh now rising and then falling in tone as it is uttered. v. russon, the estonian ornithologist, also observed the flight on a marsh near kurkull, in estonia, and noticed that the snipe rose high in the air and gradually descended again after a flight of several hundred yards. he compares the sound to the words: "_lok-toggi, lok-toggi, lok-toggi_," which certainly agree with the impression given by wolley's graphic description. he says the local names current in the district are derived from the resemblance the bird's notes bear to the rattle of a dilapidated wagon wheel. in the night the jack snipe is silent, but the display begins again with the first glimmering of dawn, but does not as a rule last long. the note described by naumann he only heard on two occasions just before the bird settled in the swamp and believed it to be caused by rapid snapping of the bill. _nesting._--like the common snipe, the jack snipe breeds in the marshes, choosing a slight hollow in a fairly dry, grassy, or sedge-grown spot, but close to open swamp. wolley describes the five nests seen by him as being all alike in structure, "made loosely of little pieces of grass and equisetum not at all woven together, with a few old leaves of the dwarf birch." it is an extremely close sitter, not stirring from its eggs till almost trodden on, while one bird actually allowed wolley to touch it with his hand before it flew. the breeding season is late, for eggs are rarely met with before mid-june and have been recorded throughout july and even in august. ralph chislett (1927) has published his recent experience with the nesting habits of the jack snipe, from which the following is quoted: the wide marsh stretched for a number of miles between the birch-clad slopes of some low hills. from the hillsides, at intervals, open sheets of water of varying dimensions could be seen, and a fringe of the birch forest stretched almost down to a small, peaty pool. through the woodland fringe a stream hurried, clear and cold with melted snow from the hill. leaving the stream at a place where yellow globe-flowers grew in profusion, we followed the ridges of soft ground which intersected the marsh. progress was impeded by scrub-willow, while hummocks of moss and mounds of crowberry and vaccinium overlay the peat foundation of the ridge, many of the hummocks being white with cloudberry blooms. between the ridges in the marshy tracts grass grew thinly through the moss, and still more thinly in the centers, where our feet were brought up firmly at a depth of eighteen inches by the still frozen bottom. later in the summer the marshes would probably be deeper. not more than two hundred yards from the wood, a ridge sank and allowed the surplus water from one flattened area of grassy marsh to drain through to the next. on the north side of the trickle the ground rose slowly to the full height of the ridge again, perhaps a yard above the marsh-level. midway up the little slope, on a dry bit of ground, a few stalks of scrub-birch partially shielded the jack snipe from view as it sat on the nest by the side of a cloudberry plant. not that shelter was needed. the nest would never have been found had my foot not happened to drop within a few inches of it. then away the bird flew, with a low, almost direct flight, without any sudden twists for some twenty yards, then down into the marsh. when flushed it disappeared from view into the marsh and was not seen again until within a few feet of the nest. once, when spotted a couple of yards away, it covered that short distance a foot at a time, crouching down for a few seconds between each very short journey; then, still crouching, it covered the eggs and remained motionless. the nest was found on june 12th, 1926, and it then contained four eggs. the last time i inspected it was on july 6th, when the eggs were cracking at their larger ends. _eggs._--the eggs are extraordinarily large for the size of the bird, being but little smaller than those of the common snipe (_capella gallinago_). they are, as a rule, more or less distinctly pyriform and are normally four in number. the ordinary types vary in ground color from "chamois" to "cream buff" in the buff types and "olive-lake" or "corn-olive" to "olive-buff" in the green types. as a rule, the markings are somewhat smaller and more uniformly distributed than in common snipes' eggs. they are in some shade of light or dark brown, such as "tawny," "russet-vinaceous," "chocolate," "liver," or "chestnut brown"; the underlying markings, which are numerous and conspicuous in some cases, are in various shades of "purple drab" or "drab-grey." the spiral smears, so frequently found in common snipes' eggs, seem to be absent from those of the jack snipe, and, though there are some cases of wide variation in coloring, a series will be found to be browner and less bold in markings than a corresponding number of the common species. the measurements of 146 eggs average 38.53 by 27.37 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =44.5= by 28.5, 40 by =30=, =35= by 27 and 38 by =25.5= millimeters. rey (1905) states that the shells are somewhat thinner and lighter than with the common snipe and gives the average weight as 660 grams. _plumages._--the downy plumage is described by dresser (1871) as follows, from a nestling obtained at muonioniska: entire upper parts richly varied, deep rufous and black, dotted here and there with white; a buffy white streak passes from the forehead over the eye; below this is a dark-brown streak covering the lores to the eye; from the base of the lower mandible another white streak passes below the eye and one also from the chin (which is buffy white) along the side of the head to the nape; underparts dark-reddish brown, slightly varied with blackish brown; bill and legs much developed. for descriptions of subsequent plumages and molts the reader is referred to "a practical handbook of british birds," edited by h. f. witherby (1920). _food._--probably consists mainly of worms, with a considerable mixture of insects and some vegetable matter (seeds, etc.). naumann (1887) remarks that he has several times found grass seeds in stomachs and believes that vegetable matter is taken as well as insects and worms. newstead records coleoptera (3 cases), mollusca (_tellina_ and _helix_, 2 cases), vegetable matter (grass, etc.), sand, and pebbles. cordeaux found fragments of fresh-water shells and a few bivalves (_pisidia_), while saxby met with plant fibers and mud. _behavior and voice._--the jack snipe is an extremely silent bird, and to a great extent, solitary, outside the breeding season. the noises made during the nuptial flight have already been dealt with, but it is characteristic of the species that when flushed, unlike the common snipe, it nearly always rises in silence. naumann, however, writes that on rare occasions, generally toward evening, a weak, high-pitched note may be uttered, like "_kitz_" or "_kutz_," which he compares to a bat's squeak. one may, however, put up twenty birds one after another without hearing anything, though very rarely a single "_ahtch_" is uttered, much more softly than the corresponding note of the common snipe. on being flushed it dashes off quickly with unsteady flight, but pitches again before rising to any height, and, except on migration or on its breeding ground, usually flies low. _field marks._--its solitary habits and small size are the best field characters, combined with the fact that it is not shy and usually rises at very short range, so that one gets a good view of it before it pitches again at no great distance, where it can be flushed again. the almost invariable absence of any note on rising is very characteristic. distribution _breeding range._--scandinavian lapland and finland south to about latitude 64â°. in germany it is said to have bred in various localities from schleswig holstein to east prussia, but there is no doubt that most of these records, if not all, are not, and can never be, satisfactorily authenticated. it does, however, breed in the baltic republics (estonia and latvia) and apparently in north poland, while in russia it breeds on the tundra south to the governments of perm, kazan, vologda, jaroslav, vladimir, orel, tula, and tver. in asia, though absent from the extreme north of siberia, it is found in the arctic zone south to tobolsk and north to the boganida (lat. 70â°), while eastward it ranges to the kolyma delta. _winter range._--while a few birds remain in favorable localities or mild weather at short distances south of their breeding quarters, the main body migrates through europe south to the countries bordering the mediterranean and its islands (balearic isles, corsica, sardinia, malta, sicily, ionian isles, crete, cyprus, etc.). in africa it is met with in all the countries on the northern littoral from morocco to egypt; also up the nile valley to the blue nile (lakes nakuru and naivasha), and sparingly to kenya colony. in asia from west palestine, south iraq, persia, afghanistan, throughout india, ceylon, burma, china (scarce), formosa, and japan. in the canaries it occurs only on passage in small numbers. _spring migration._--in south spain, end of february and early march; corsica, february (late date march 27); greece, february (late dates march 2 and 19); italy, april and early may (latest date beginning of june); cyprus, end of march and early april (late date april 16). in the british isles the passage lasts from the end of march to the third week of may (late date june, north uist); in denmark, april; south sweden from end of march to middle of april; in hungary they leave about the end of march; and have been noted in russia in the caucasus, the kirghis steppes, and the urals. in asia they remain in iraq to april 7; sind, early april. arrival noted on the boganida june 8. in africa, morocco (february), tunisia (february, march), abyssinia (february), and egypt (march). _fall migration._--in the british isles from mid september to end november (early dates, august 12, 1910, norfolk; august 20, 1910, essex; august 1, norfolk). heligoland (september and october); also met with in practically all european countries, reaching south spain (november, end october, or early november). in asia recorded from asia minor, transjordania (october), arriving sind (early october) and india (september-october). _casual records._--once recorded from the faeroes (1910); also on madeira (march 15, 1889); andaman isles (once), as well as on the pribilof isles. _egg dates._--june 4 to 12 (2 records); 14 to 21 (8 records); 22 to 30 (2 records); july 1 to 14 (3 records); 15 to 28 (4 records); 29 to august 2 (2 records). limnodromus griseus griseus (gmelin) eastern dowitcher habits the dowitcher, or, as i should prefer to see it called, the red-breasted snipe, occurs as a species entirely across the american continent. the long-billed dowitcher, the western form, was originally described as a distinct, full species; it has since been reduced to the rank of a subspecies, because of very evident intergradation; and now some very good ornithologists are in doubt as to the propriety of recognizing the two varieties in nomenclature at all, because no distinctly different breeding ranges for the two forms have been established, and typical (so-called) eastern birds have never been found breeding anywhere. what few breeding birds have come from alaska and northern mackenzie all seem to be _scolopaceus_, but _griseus_ may still be found breeding there when we have larger series. i have had considerable correspondence with prof. william rowan about the breeding dowitchers of alberta, including interchange of specimens. he seems to think that the alberta birds are constantly distinct from either _griseus_ or _scolopaceus_ and perhaps worthy of a name. it seems to me that they are strictly intermediate and should not be named. in a letter recently received from p. a. taverner he seems inclined to recognize the alberta bird as a "short-billed bird resembling the eastern most, but intermediate, and with spotting characters different from either." on migrations, and in winter, both forms are found entirely across the continent. the best that can be said is that _griseus_ is more common on the atlantic and _scolopaceus_ is more common on the pacific coast. dr. louis b. bishop, with whom i have discussed this question, is inclined to call one a mutant of the other; he has some 200 dowitchers in his collection, from all parts of the country, those from the atlantic and pacific coasts being about equally divided and the two forms being about equally represented. in analyzing his series, taking into account length of bill, length of wing and brightness of color, he finds that: of _griseus_, 86 per cent are from the atlantic coast, 2 per cent from the interior, and 12 per cent from the pacific coast; and of _scolopaceus_, 14 per cent are from the atlantic coast, 30 per cent from the interior, and 56 per cent from the pacific coast. while collecting near pasadena, california, on april 25, 1923, he shot into a large flock of dowitchers and picked up nine birds, all but one of which were typical _griseus,_ in bill, wing, and color. _spring._--the last of the dowitchers which winter in florida, or migrate through there, leave for the north during may, though a general northward movement has been going on during april. the earliest birds sometimes reach massachusetts by may 1, but usually the main flight comes along about may 20 and lasts for about ten days. audubon (1840) observed large numbers of this species flying eastward along the coasts of louisiana and texas during april. and arthur t. wayne (1910) says that "these birds migrate to their breeding grounds in the far north between may 1 and 15, and when the tide is low in the afternoon and a light southerly wind prevails, flock after flock can be seen migrating in a northwesterly direction. i have yet to see these birds migrate along the coast line in the spring." this would seem to indicate an overland route from south carolina, in addition to the atlantic coast route referred to above. professor rowan writes to me that dowitchers are common on both migrations in alberta, and says: in a long series of spring and fall skins, there is every gradation from the supposed typical eastern form (_griseus_) to the so-called long-billed form (_scolopaceus_). bill lengths and colors do not correspond as they are supposed to do. as far as this district is concerned, there is absolutely no evidence in support of the splitting of this species into two races. the only two really long-billed birds that have been taken, were deliberately collected from a flock as their bills were so obviously longer than those of their companions even in life. intermediate lengths, forming a nicely graded series, have been secured. the colors and markings of the spring birds are infinite in variety, and do not correspond to the bill lengths that should go with them. there is a northward migration through the interior, in which this form is undoubtedly represented, but to what extent it is hard to tell, as it is impossible to separate all the records. both forms are recorded on migrations in california and british columbia. _courtship._--richard c. harlow has sent me some brief notes on the courtship of this species, as seen on its breeding grounds in alberta. there were at least eight pairs of birds in the vicinity and they kept up their courtships until he left on june 9. the males apparently outnumber the females, for at least two females were seen surrounded by little groups of three or four males, frequently singing and displaying. "the male frequently strutted like a woodcock and displayed, and several times arose and gave his flight song, a clear, liquid, musical, contralto gurgle." professor rowan thinks that both sexes indulge in this song. _nesting._--the breeding range of the eastern dowitcher is imperfectly known or not known at all, unless we include the birds which breed in alberta under this form, where in my opinion they belong. prof. wells w. cooke (1912) writes: the nest and eggs of the dowitcher are not yet known to science, nor has the species been seen in summer at any place where it was probably breeding. the dowitcher is a common migrant on the coasts of new jersey, new york, rhode island, and massachusetts, and in fall is sometimes very abundant. farther north its numbers decrease: new hampshire, tolerably common in fall, no spring records; maine, tolerably common spring and fall; quebec, rare migrant; new brunswick, no records; nova scotia, once (sharpe); prince edward island, once; ungava, a few in august, 1860, at henley harbor (coues), one june 10, 1883, at fort chimo (turner). north of ungava, the only record is that of a single accidental occurrence at fiskenaes, greenland (reinhardt). evidently the dowitcher does not breed in any numbers, on the eastern coast of ungava. the probability that it does not breed there at all is strengthened by the fact that several first-class observers, who during the fall migration were in the gulf of st. lawrence, did not see any of the birds. it undoubtedly does not go into northeastern keewatin and the islands of the province of franklin, for it is not reported by the various expeditions that have traveled and wintered in those districts, while the specimens taken on the west coast of hudson bay belong to the form called scolopaceus. the only district left for the breeding ground is the interior of ungava and the eastern shore of hudson bay. w. e. clyde todd, who has probably done more field work than anyone else on the east coast of hudson bay, writes to me: replying to your query about the dowitcher, it is my opinion that this species does not breed in the interior of northern ungava, but i admit i have nothing to prove it one way or the other. it seems to me, though, that if it did breed there, it would be far more common than it is at the southern end of james bay in migration, instead of being one of the rarer kinds. i never saw it anywhere north of this part, but then i have not been in northern ungava in the breeding season. turner's record of a single bird at fort chimo, on june 10, 1883, seems to be the only peg on which to hang the ungava theory; and this may have been a straggler. the alberta birds are somewhat intermediate; and probably typical _griseus_, if there is any such thing, will be found breeding somewhere in the muskeg regions of central canada between alberta and hudson bay. there are several sets of dowitcher's eggs in collections, from this general region, collected in 1903 and 1906, which have been looked upon with some suspicion; one came from hayes river flat, 25 miles north of 55â°, one from just south of little slave lake, and three from little red deer river, alberta. now that the dowitcher has been definitely shown to breed in alberta, these records look authentic. to a. d. henderson and his guests is due all the credit for recent positive evidence. on june 18, 1924, he found a pair of dowitchers with two young, only a day or two old, "near a small lake in a muskeg about 17 miles northeast of fort assiniboine." the following season he found dowitchers again at three different places in the same region, "probably a dozen pairs in all"; and on june 2, about 35 miles northeast of fort assiniboine, he took his first set of three fresh eggs. the nest was "in a muskeg in open growth of small tamarac trees about 125 yards from a lake"; he describes it as "a hollow in a lump of moss, scantily lined with a few tamarac twigs, leaves, and fine dry grass, at the root of a small dead alder about 12 inches high"; it measured 1-3/4 inches deep and 4 inches across; the top was 4 inches above standing water. mr. harlow, who was with mr. henderson the next year, 1926, took two sets of four eggs each. one "nest was in an extensive tundralike muskeg, very quaking and wet, and the nest was in a small bunch of dwarf birch, not over 12 inches high, on the end of a little ridge of moss and completely surrounded on three sides by water." the male was seen "singing" near the nest. he joined the female after she had fluttered off the nest and the pair were seen feeding together; several times they stood erect and rubbed their bills together. after the eggs were taken a set of phalarope's eggs was placed in the nest; the dowitcher returned took one look at the eggs and then flew away and was never seen near the nest again. _eggs._--one of mr. henderson's sets was apparently complete with three eggs, but four is the usual number. there is probably no constant difference between the eggs of this and its long-billed relative. one of mr. harlow's sets he describes as "light olive-green, rather lightly marked with pin points, spots, flecks, and a few blotches of dark umber and dark brown." the other set, he says, is slightly darker olive-green and is "much more heavily spotted and blotched with small and large spots of umber and brown and under shell markings of a lighter color." the measurements of 18 alberta eggs average 40.8 by 29.2 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =44= by 29.5, 41 by =30.3=, =38.2= by 28.5, and 38.7 by =27.7= millimeters. _plumages._--the plumages and molts, which are the same in both forms, are fully described under the long-billed dowitcher. _food._--the favorite feeding grounds of the dowitchers are the mud flats and sand flats in sheltered bays and estuaries, or the borders of shallow ponds on the marshes, where they associate freely with small plovers and sandpipers. although not inclined to move about actively, their feeding motions are very rapid, as they probe in the mud or sand with quick, perpendicular strokes of their long bills, driving them in their full length again and again in rapid succession; while feeding in shallow water the whole head is frequently immersed and sometimes several strokes are made with the head under water. dr. e. r. p. janvrin writes to me: mr. j. t. nichols and i watched three individuals feeding on the salt meadows late in the afternoon, continuing our observations until it was so dark that we could hardly distinguish the birds any longer; at which time the birds were still feeding. the question arose whether dowitchers might not be nocturnal in their feeding habits, as is the case with the woodcock and wilson's snipe, since the sense of sight is certainly not essential to their probing for food. various observers have noted among the food items of the dowitcher grasshoppers, beetles, flies, maggots, marine worms, oyster worms, leeches, water bugs, fish eggs, small mollusks, seeds of aquatic plants, and the roots of eelgrass. _behavior._--dowitchers are the gentlest and most unsuspicious of shore birds, which has made them easy prey for the avaricious gunner. their flight is swift and steady, often protracted and sometimes at a great elevation, when looking for feeding places. they usually fly in compact flocks by themselves, sometimes performing interesting evolutions high in the air. they often fly, however, in flocks with other small waders, but the dowitchers are generally bunched together in the flock; i once shot four dowitchers out of a mixed flock without hitting any of the smaller birds. when a flock of dowitchers alights the birds are closely bunched, but they soon scatter out and begin to feed. if a flock is shot into, the sympathetic and confiding birds return again and again to their fallen companions until only a pitiful remnant is left to finally escape. such slaughter of the innocents well-nigh exterminated this gentle species; but, now that it is protected, it is beginning to increase again. although all shore birds can swim, the dowitcher seems to be especially adept at it. doctor coues (1874) writes: being partly web-footed, this snipe swims tolerably well for a little distance in an emergency, as when it may get for a moment beyond its depth in wading about, or when it may fall, broken-winged, on the water. on such an occasion as this last, i have seen one swim bravely for 20 or 30 yards, with a curious bobbing motion of the head and corresponding jerking of the tail, to a hiding place in the rank grass across the pool. when thus hidden they keep perfectly still, and may be picked up without resistance, except a weak flutter, and perhaps a low, pleading cry for pity on their pain and helplessness. when feeding at their ease, in consciousness of peace and security, few birds are of more pleasing appearance. their movements are graceful and their attitudes often beautifully statuesque. w. e. d. scott (1881) says: a curious habit of this species was noted at the mouth of the withlacoochee, where i saw the birds alight in very deep water and swim about for considerable time. this occurred in every instance after a flock had been fired at, and i thought at first that the birds had been wounded, but after observing the occurrence a number of times and on watching the birds while in the water i concluded that such was not the case. those i noted were generally solitary individuals, but twice i saw three, and once four, alight in the water, swim lightly and gracefully about, and, when disturbed, rise easily and fly away. _voice._--john t. nichols has sent me the following notes on the characteristic calls of this species. the flight note of the dowitcher resembles that of the lesser yellow-legs but is recognizably different, less loud and more hurried, usually suggesting the bird's name: _dowitch_, or _dowitcher_, sometimes of a single syllable. this call is subject to considerable variation. when used as a regular flight or recognition note i believe it is most frequently two-syllabled, clear and full. when the call becomes more abrupt and emphatic and the last syllable is multiplied it seems to indicate that the bird is excited rather than to have other especial significance; thus, _dowicheche_. this note appears to be identical in the eastern dowitcher and the long-billed race which i have studied in florida. other minor calls of the dowitcher are single, unloud, low-pitched _chups_ with which a flock manoeuvred about decoys (long island, august) resembling an analogous yellowleg note; a low rattle when dropping down to alight (long island, may); a mellow, ploverlike _cluee_, suggesting a call of single lesser yellow-legs when loath to leave a feeding ground, calling to other more restless individuals of their kind. this was heard from a single dowitcher on the ground when a flock of lesser yellow-legs was flushed a little way off. when these departed it took wing with more usual dowitcher calls and followed after (long island, july). i have on record also a startled _chee_ from an extra tame long-billed dowitcher in florida, flushed by being almost struck by something thrown at it. while observing the shore bird migration on the coast of new jersey, during the last week of may, with dr. harry c. oberholser, we frequently heard the pretty and vivacious flight song of the dowitcher. it was a sibilant, whistling song, rather loud and with a staccato effect. doctor oberholser, whose ears are better than mine now are, wrote down his impressions of it for me. three short notes were heard separately, _tã­liloo_, _tã­dilee_ and _tã­chilee_, accented on the first syllable; the last two were commonest. the complete song sounded like _tã­dilee-tã­-tscha-tscha-tscha_ or _tã­chilee-tã­-tsocha-tscha-tscha_, with numerous variations and combinations of the above notes, a very striking song. this is somewhat similar in form to the song of the long-billed dowitcher heard on its breeding grounds and described by dr. e. w. nelson (1887); it is probably a courtship song. _field marks._--the dowitcher when standing is a fat, chunky bird, with short greenish legs and a very long bill, with which it probes perpendicularly. in flight it also appears stout and usually carries its long bill pointed slightly downward; in adult plumage it appears very dark colored. it has none of the slender appearance of the yellow-legs and its flight is steadier. when seen flying away from the observer the grayish white central band on its back is conspicuous, as are the black and white, barred tail feathers. _fall._--the dowitcher is one of the earliest of the fall migrants; probably the first arrivals are birds that, for one reason or another, have failed to raise broods of young, for the time elapsing between the late-spring migration and the early-fall flight is not sufficient for successful breeding. the first adults arrive on cape cod early in july; my earliest date is july 4. adults are common all through july, and i have seen them as late as august 16. the young birds come along later, from august 8 to september 25. while with us they frequent the mud flats and edges of muddy ponds or bays in the marshes; they are seldom seen on the sandy beaches or far out on the sand flats. they associate freely with the smaller sandpipers, least, and semipalmated, or with the semipalmated plover and turnstones. often in the great flocks of these small sandpipers a number of dowitchers may be easily recognized by their much larger size and very dark appearance, also by their much longer bills. they are then often concentrated in compact groups or strung out in a long line, close to the edge of the water, probing in the soft mud with quick strokes of their long bills. they are easily approached at such times, as they are almost as tame and unsuspicious as the little peep. when the flats are covered at high tide these birds resort to the salt marshes or meadows, where they rest and sleep; in such places they often lie very close and flush singly, much after the manner of wilson snipe. _game._--dowitchers, or "brown backs," as they are called on cape cod, have been popular game birds, and immense numbers have been shot in past years. audubon (1840) says that "it is not at all uncommon to shoot 20 or 30 of them at once. i have been present when 127 were killed by discharging three barrels, and have heard of many dozens having been procured at a shot." edward sturtevant says that a market hunter near newport, rhode island, shot 1,058 dowitchers during the years from 1867 to 1874. their popularity and their tameness nearly caused the extermination of the species. mr. john c. cahoon (1888) wrote then: they have decreased very fast during the last five years, and where we saw a flock of several dozens then we now see them singly or in bunches not exceeding 10 or 12. they are the least shy of any of the shore birds, and it is due to this fact that they have decreased so fast. they are easily decoyed, and although they fly swiftly their motion is steady and they keep closely together. they alight in a compact bunch, and the gunner usually shoots into them before they scatter out. many are killed by a single discharge, and those that remain spring up with a sharp whistle and fly a short distance away, when hearing what they think to be the call of a deserted comrade they wheel about and come skimming bravely back to the murderous spot where they were first shot at. again they are shot at, and again the remaining half dozen are loath to leave their dead and dying companions, and return to share their fate. one or two may escape, and as they drop silently down on some lonely sand spit, sad relics of their departed companions, what sorrowful thoughts must be theirs as they wait for their comrades that will never come. since that time the species has been saved by removing it from the game-bird list, and it has increased considerably until now it is again a fairly common bird. when flying in flocks it is too easily killed to offer the sportsman much of a thrill, but when flushed singly on the meadows it has more of a sporting chance for its life. distribution _range._--chiefly eastern north america, islands of the caribbean sea and central south america; casual in greenland, alaska, the british isles, and france. _breeding range._--the dowitchers which have been found breeding in alberta, from little red deer river to fort assiniboine, are intermediate between _griseus_ and _scolopaceus_, but nearer the former. eggs have also been taken at hayes river flat and just south of little slave lake, which are probably of this form. the breeding range of typical _griseus_ probably lies between these points and the west side of hudson bay and perhaps extends north to the arctic coast. _winter range._--north to louisiana (state game preserve, and marsh island) and probably rarely to north carolina (fort macon). east to rarely north carolina (fort macon); south carolina (near charleston, and frogmore); georgia (savannah and blackbeard island); florida (amelia island, orange hammock, and bassenger); bahama islands (great inagua); jamaica; lesser antilles (guadeloupe, barbadoes and grenada); trinidad; and brazil (para and bahia). south to brazil (bahia); and northern peru (tumbez). west to northern peru (tumbez); colombia (medellin); cuba (isle of pines); western florida (key west, fort myers, sarasota bay, tarpon springs, and pensacola); louisiana (marsh island); and southern california. _spring migration._--early dates of spring arrival are: virginia, hog island, april 15, norfolk, april 17, and locustville, april 25; new jersey, long beach, may 6, new brunswick, may 16; new york, shinnecock bay light, may 15, and long island, april 19; connecticut, norwalk, may 15; rhode island, newport, may 20; massachusetts, monomoy island, may 1; quebec, green island, may 25; quebec, may 28, and fort chimo, june 10; and new brunswick, grand manan, june 13. late dates of spring departure are: new jersey, long beach, may 20, cape may, may 20, new brunswick, may 23, and elizabeth, may 31; new york, new york city, may 30, long island, june 12, and long beach, june 23. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrival are: massachusetts, edgartown, july 4, dennis, july 13, monomoy island, july 13, marthas vineyard, july 24, and harvard, july 26; rhode island, newport, july 10; connecticut, meriden, july 23; new york, long island, june 29, and east hampton, july 1; new jersey, long beach, july 6, and cape may, july 10; virginia, cobb island, june 19, and bone island, july 14; georgia, savannah, september 23; and mississippi, bay st. louis, august 24. a few individuals may be found throughout the summer on the coast of florida and other southern states, but they are not known to breed in these regions. late dates of fall departure are: new brunswick, tabusintoc, october 23; quebec, labrador, august 23, and montreal, september 27; maine, portland, august 13; massachusetts, harvard, august 25, edgartown, september 4, and cape cod, october 23; rhode island, newport, october 20; new york, rochester, september 13, orient, september 21, new york city, october 31, and great west bay light, november 2; new jersey, long beach, october 1; and virginia, hog island, november 12. _casual records._--the dowitcher has many times been taken outside of what appears to be its normal range, in fact there are so many records for the interior that it seems certain individuals regularly follow the flyway of the mississippi valley. among these records are bermuda, harris bay, september 26, 1847, and august 21, 1848, pearl island, september 10, 1874, and peniston pond, september 17, 1875; district of columbia, washington, september 1879; pennsylvania, erie, july 19, 1892, and carlisle, august 12, 1844, and september 12, 1844; tennessee, reelfoot lake, november 27, 1875; illinois, mount carmel, october 9, 1875, calumet, october, 1881, south chicago, may 6, 1893, and grand crossing, july 19, 1893; indiana, liverpool, september 9, 1892; ohio, pelee island, august 10, 1924, and september 3, 1910, and columbus, october 16, 1921; michigan, wayne county, july 16, 1906, august 26, 1905, and october 7, 1890; ingham county, august 26, 1897, and east lansing, august 14, 1908; ontario, toronto, august 1, 1894, august 24, 1891, and september 15, 1889, and ottawa, may 9, 1890; iowa, burlington, august 6, 1893, and august 16, 1893, and marshalltown, august 10, 1914; wisconsin, lake koshkonong, august, 1886; texas, corpus christi, may 18, 1886, san patricio county, june 11, 1887, fort clarke, april 26, 1882, padre island, august 26 and 27, 1891, aransas bay, august 14, 1905, and rockport, february 3, 1909; idaho, st. joseph marshes, september 12, 1895 or 1896; mackenzie, fort rae, june 9, 1893; greenland, fiskenaesset in 1854; ungava, fort chimo, june 10, 1883; and alaska, nushagak, september 24, 1882, and june 9, 1884. there also are 15 records of its occurrence in the british isles; one each near havre, and picardy, france, and northeastern siberia, near jakutsk. _egg dates._--alberta: 9 records, june 1 to 16. limnodromus griseus scolopaceus (say) long-billed dowitcher habits this is supposed to be a western form of the species, characterized by an average larger size, a decidedly longer bill, and more uniformly rufous under parts in the adult spring plumage. it was first described and long regarded as a distinct species, but later developments have shown intergradation and it has been reduced to sub-specific rank. the above characters seem to hold good in all specimens collected on their breeding grounds in alaska and northwestern mackenzie; and these characters are distinctive and well marked. but in immature and winter plumages the form can be recognized only by size; and, as the measurements of the two forms overlap and intergrade, only the extremes can be positively named. the matter is further complicated by the fact that the migration and winter ranges of the two forms overlap. this form, _scolopaceus_, is by no means rare on the atlantic coast, and _griseus_ occurs regularly on the pacific coast; intermediates are most abundant in the central valleys, but occur on both coasts. _spring._--the long-billed dowitcher is a rather early spring migrant; the migration starts in march; the main flight through the united states is in april; and it reaches its northern breeding grounds in may. dr. e. w. nelson (1887) says of its arrival in northern alaska: in spring, the middle of may, as the snow disappears, and the first pale leaves of grass begin to thrust their spear-points through the dead vegetable mat on the ground, or as early as the 10th on some seasons, this peculiar snipe returns to its summer home. at the yukon mouth i found them on may 12, when they were already engaged in love-making, though the ground was still, to a great extent, covered with snow, and only here and there appeared a thawed place where they could feed. toward the end of this month they are plentiful, and their curious habits and loud notes make them among the most conspicuous denizens of the marshes. _courtship._--doctor nelson (1887) writes: these are very demonstrative birds in their love-making, and the last of may and first of june their loud cries are heard everywhere about their haunts, especially in morning and evening. two or three males start in pursuit of a female and away they go twisting and turning, here and there, over marsh and stream, with marvelous swiftness and dexterity. at short intervals a male checks his flight for a moment to utter a strident _pe-et u weet_; _wee-too, wee-too_; then on he goes full tilt again. after they have mated, or when a solitary male pays his devotions, they rise 15 or 20 yards from the ground, where, hovering upon quivering wings, the bird pours forth a lisping but energetic and frequently musical song, which can be very imperfectly expressed by the syllables _peet-peet_; _pee-ter-wee-too_; _wee-too_; _pee-ter-wee-too_; _pee-ter-wee-too_; _wee-too_; _wee-too_. this is the complete song but frequently only fragments are sung, as when the bird is in pursuit of the female. herbert w. brandt says in his notes: the male long-billed dowitcher pours forth his wild musical song as he hovers in the air with raised vibrating wings, perhaps 50 feet above the object of his rapturous outburst. the female, from her retreat on the cozy border of a lowland pool, modestly watches the ardent lover as he renders his melodious homage. in common with many others of the shore dwellers, the most conspicuous courting action is the pursuit race by a number of males for their desired, but elusive, lady love. it is then that one marvels at the speed and agility displayed by apparently awkward birds, as they twist and dodge in their aerial wooing. even during his swift flight the suitor tries, but with poor success, to continue his musical efforts for the benefit of his larger paramour. _nesting._--macfarlane's notes record brief descriptions of some half a dozen nests found in the anderson river region and on the borders of the wooded country. these were all located on marshy ground near a swamp or small lake. one is described as "a mere depression in the midst of a tuft or decayed grass, lined with a few withered leaves." a set collected for me by f. s. hersey, near st. michael, alaska, june 9, 1914, was taken from a hollow in the moss between two clumps of grass on the tundra; the female was flushed and shot. mr. brandt says in his notes: the nest of the long-billed dowitcher is a mere depression scratched out on a small eminence on a wet moss-covered meadow through which short sedges grow sparingly to a height of about six inches. the nest, the bottom of which was usually wet, was in every case surrounded by shallow fresh water and the basinlike cavity was meagerly lined with grass and small leaves. in two nests the eggs rested on the cold wet moss foundation still frozen a few inches underneath and the scanty nesting material was all deposited on the rim of the nest. in every instance the female was conducting the incubation, but the male was in close attendance. the bird is a very close sitter and must be almost trodden upon before it will rise, wings spread, from its duties. _eggs._--four eggs seems to be the invariable rule for the long-billed dowitcher. in shape they vary from ovate pyriform to subpyriform; some are quite rounded and others are decidedly pointed. they have only a slight gloss. mr. brandt in his notes describes his four sets, as follows: the ground color has considerable variation and shows two distinct types: the commoner one, the brown type, of which we found three sets is "saccardo's olive"; and the other type, represented by a single set, is "greenish," shading to "bluish glaucous." the markings are bold, slightly elongated and seldom confluent, so that blotched markings are unusual. the eggs are medium to heavily spotted, causing the ground color to be conspicuous, and, in consequence, the underlying markings are very noticeable. the primary spots are in various shades of brown, namely: "vandyke brown," "seal brown," and "saccardo's umber," which make the egg one of unusual beauty. the underlying spots are "drab gray" to "light grayish olive" and are larger and more numerous than are found on the other limicoline eggs we collected at hooper bay. in my set the ground colors vary from "dark olive buff" to "olive buff." two of the eggs are irregularly spotted and blotched with spots of various sizes; one is quite evenly marked with small elongated spots; and another is sparingly spotted and blotched, chiefly about the larger end. the colors of the markings are "saccardo's umber," "bister" and "warm sepia," with underlying markings of "deep" to "pale brownish drab." in other collections i have seen a number of sets that matched almost exactly certain types of heavily blotched eggs of the wilson snipe; these may be within the normal range of dowitcher's eggs; but i have always been suspicious that some of them were wrongly identified. the measurements of 79 eggs average 41.8 by 28.9 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measures =45.5= by 30.5, 44 by =32=, =37.5= by 29.2 and 39.4 by =26.3= millimeters. _young._--h. b. conover has sent me the following interesting notes: newly hatched young were found june 22nd. the incubation period seems to be about 20 days. a nest found by murie on may 31 with two eggs, had four eggs on june 2, and on being visited the evening of june 22, was found to contain two young and two pipped eggs. the colors of the soft parts of a downy young several days old were as follows: tarsus olive with blackish stripes down the sides, bill black, iris brown. in the newly hatched young the tarsus is much lighter. on june 23 while visiting the nest of a black-bellied plover, i came across a pair of dowitchers that from their actions appeared to have young. not wishing to stop at the time, i passed on, but on returning several hours later, found them again in a marsh at the foot of a long, low hill. when i sat down to watch, one bird wheeled about me calling, and then flew off down the valley. the other bird at first i could not locate, but soon saw it flying about the hillside chirping. i noticed that as this bird passed over a certain spot, it would hover about 15 feet above the ground, giving a whistling trill. after a few minutes it dawned on me, that each time it hovered to give this call, it was a little farther up the hillside. when i moved up toward the top of the hill, the bird alighted close by, scolded for a while and then commenced the same performance as before. in this way in about half an hour the dowitcher and i had crossed the hill from one marsh to another, a distance of about 600 yards. during all this time its mate had appeared only twice, when it flew by calling and then disappeared again. finally the bird i was following alighted in the marsh at the far side of the hill from where we had started, and began running short distances, stopping and then running on again. watching through some field glasses, i soon saw a young one following at its heels. rushing down suddenly, three downies were found hiding with their heads stuck into holes or depressions in the moss. they appeared to be several days old. evidently the old dowitcher had led these young ones across the hill by simply hovering over or in front of them and calling. the bird was collected and proved to be a male. just what the relation of the male and female to the eggs and young is in this species it is hard to say. from the experience above i believe the male does nine-tenths of the work in caring for the chicks. i think this will probably prove true as to the incubation of the eggs as well, but that the female takes some share in the hatching seems probable, as one collected in the vicinity of a nest showed incubation patches. _plumages._--the downy young dowitcher somewhat resembles the young snipe, but has a somewhat different pattern of similar colors. the large central crown patch is black, clouded, or overcast, with "chestnut" tips and with two indefinite spots of whitish tips; the black extends down to the bill; a broad, black loral stripe extends from the eye to the bill, and a still broader postocular stripe from the eye to the nape; these two stripes are separated from the dark crown patch by a stripe which is "tawny" above the lores, buffy white over the eyes, and white around the posterior half of the crown. the chin is buffy white, and the throat and breast are "ochraceous tawny," becoming lighter and grayer on the belly. the upper parts are much like those of the snipe, variegated, or marbled, with black, "chestnut," and "umber brown," and spotted with small round white spots, terminal tufts, which are very thick on the wings and form roughly two rows down the back and two rows on each thigh. in fresh juvenal plumage in july in alaska, the crown, back, and scapulars are black, broadly edged with "cinnamon rufous" or "hazel"; the throat, breast, and flanks are gray, the feathers broadly tipped with "ochraceous tawny" and streaked with black or spotted with dusky; the tertials, innermost greater coverts, and the median coverts are edged with "cinnamon buff." these edgings are much browner in _scolopaceus_ and paler buff in _griseus_. a postjuvenal molt, beginning in september and lasting until december or later, involves a change of the body plumage, sometimes the tail and some of the wing coverts and scapulars. this produces the first winter plumage, which is like the adult winter plumage, except for the retained juvenal scapulars, tertials, and wing coverts. the first prenuptial molt is limited to a few scattering feathers in the body plumage, above and below, some of the scapulars and wing coverts, and the tail; these are like corresponding spring feathers of the adult. there is considerable individual variation in the amount of new feathers in this first nuptial plumage. i have seen birds in this plumage from march 28 to september 9. they do not go north to breed, but remain in the south during the summer. at the first postnuptial molt, in august, they assume the adult winter plumage. in some young birds the prenuptial molt seems to be omitted and the postnuptial molt seems to be a change from one winter plumage to another. adults have a partial prenuptial molt from february to may, involving all the body plumage, most of the scapulars, some of the tertials, the central pair of rectrices and the wing coverts. i have seen adults in full nuptial plumage as early as march 4 and as late as august 21. july and august birds are very black above, due to the wearing away of the buff edgings. there is much individual variation in the extent and intensity of the rufous and in the amount of black spotting on the breast. the complete postnuptial molt of adults begins in august and is often finished in september. i have seen several birds in which the primaries were being completely renewed during both months. _food._--preble and mcatee (1923) give the following report on the contents of two stomachs of long-billed dowitchers: two stomachs, of the two specimens last mentioned from st. paul island, have been examined and their contents were almost exclusively the larvae of midges (chironomidae), of which there were more than 75 in one gizzard and more than 100 in the other. vegetable dã©bris, amounting to 3 per cent by bulk of the stomach contents, also was present, and it probably was picked up incidentally with the midge larvae. included in the vegetable matter were seeds of bottle brush (_hippuris vulgaris_), sedge (_carex_ sp.), and water chick-weed (_montia fontana_). _behavior._--i have never been able to discover any differences in behavior between the two forms of the dowitcher; their habits are doubtless similar. some gunners think that they can distinguish the two forms by their notes, but the differences in notes are probably due to individual variations in a somewhat varied vocabulary. john t. nichols (1920) one of the closest students and best authorities on shore birds' notes, says "the chances are there is no significant difference in the calls of the two races." _fall._--s. f. rathbun has sent me the following notes on the habits of this bird on its migrations through the state of washington: the long-billed dowitcher will be found in the company of almost any of the shore birds, in flocks of varying numbers, and even as single individuals, but appears to show somewhat of a partiality for the company of the black-bellied plover and the red-backed sandpiper. on this coast both its spring and autumnal migrations seem to be somewhat prolonged, for in the case of the former we have records from april 11 until late in may; and for the latter from early august until into november. it will be found alike on the sandy beaches and the muddy flats, seemingly showing no particular preference for either. when the tide is at its ebb on the flats the birds oftimes become widely scattered and single ones may be found in unexpected places. on one occasion as we were walking across a grassy marsh the head and neck of a long-billed dowitcher was seen exposed above the growth along the edge of one of the little channels running through the marsh. as we approached the bird it could be seen making attempts to rise, but this it was unable to do on account of being impeded by the length of the grass, and we drove the bird ahead until an open spot was reached when it then took wing, at this time being but a few feet away. on various occasions while we were watching flocks of the small sandpipers about some bit of water, dowitchers would fly past and, being attracted by the calls of other birds, they then after circling for a moment or two would alight at the pool to feed. when thus engaged they give the impression of being somewhat deliberate in their actions and as they moved about some would frequently wade up to their breasts into the shallow water, often so remaining until by some action they seemed to lose a footing and when this occurred a retreat would be made into a more shallow part. oftentimes one or more birds would suddenly cease feeding and assume a posture of repose and when this took place it was a common occurrence to see some standing on but one leg, thus to remain motionless for a time. dowitchers do not appear to be very shy when found in the flocks of the smaller sandpipers, but are the first birds to retreat as one approaches the flock; and on such occasions it is generally the case that one or more of them will suddenly take wing and put the entire flock in motion. they are swift-flying birds and when on the wing have a somewhat harsh note that is given from time to time. in their spring dress they are attractive, as at this time their under parts are a rich buff color, and a flock of dowitchers seen at this season with the light striking full on their breasts is indeed a handsome sight. _winter._--dowitchers occur in winter as far south as ecuador and peru. dr. frank m. chapman (1926) referred the birds collected in ecuador to _scolopaceus_. nonbreeding birds, or immatures, remain there all summer, as they do in other parts of their winter range. i have taken both forms of dowitchers in florida, where they winter regularly in small numbers. distribution _range._--north america, central america, cuba, and northwestern south america. casual in japan. _breeding range._--north to probably eastern siberia (cape wankarem); alaska (kuparuk river and point barrow); probably yukon (herschel island); and mackenzie (franklin bay). east to mackenzie (franklin bay). south to mackenzie (fort anderson); yukon (lapierre house); and alaska (point dall). west to alaska (point dall, pastolik, st. michael, and kowak river); and probably eastern siberia (cape wankarem). _winter range._--north to california (los banos and santa ana); texas (corpus christi); louisiana (state game preserve); florida (east goose creek, kissimmee, and cape canaveral); and probably cuba (santiago de vegas and san fernando). east to probably cuba (santiago de vegas); costa rica (alajuela); and probably panama, colombia, and ecuador. south to ecuador. west to guatemala; tehuantepec (san mateo); jalisco (la barca); lower california (la paz, san jose mission and san quentin); and california (san diego and los banos). _spring migration._--early dates of spring arrival are: south carolina, near charleston, april 30; new york, long island, march 20; illinois, cary's station, april 24, and chicago, april 28; minnesota, heron lake, may 1; kansas, manhattan, april 21, and wichita, april 28; nebraska, callaway, april 8, and omaha, april 28; iowa, wall lake, may 9; south dakota, brown county, april 14, and harrison, april 15; north dakota, menoken, may 7; manitoba, shoal lake, april 24, pilot mound, may 1, and margaret, may 18; colorado, loveland, april 6, denver, april 26, and durango, april 30; wyoming, cheyenne, may 2, and lake como, may 5; central and northern california, alameda, march 15, palo alto, april 17, ballona, april 19, and stockton, april 20; oregon, malheur lake, april 20; washington, menlo, may 1, and fort steilacoom, may 5; british columbia, courtenay, april 28, and chilliwack, may 8; and alaska, craig, may 2, kuiu island, may 3, fort kenai, may 4, and st. michael, may 20. late dates of spring departure are: louisiana, new orleans, march 20; texas, corpus christi, april 20; chihuahua, lake palomas, april 9; lower california, gardner's lagoon, april 19; and southern california, santa barbara, may 2. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrival are: british columbia, courtenay, july 7, and okanagan landing, july 19; california, balboa bay, july 6, santa barbara, july 18, and fresno, august 6; lower california, san quentin, august 10, and san jose del cabo, august 28; tehuantepec, san mateo, august 12; montana, billings, july 31; utah, provo river, july 24; saskatchewan, hay creek, july 3; colorado, barr, july 5, and denver, july 24; north dakota, devil's lake, july 20, and mouse river, august 10; texas, brownsville, july 11; new york, long island, july 16; north carolina, pea and brodie islands, july 7; and south carolina, near charleston, july 20. late dates of fall departure are: british columbia, chilliwack, october 29; washington, seattle, october 9, and point chehalis, october 19; northern and central california, easton, october 18, alameda, october 29, and stockton, november 5; wyoming, hutton's lakes, october 14; colorado, denver, october 3; manitoba, margaret, october 10; south dakota, harrison, november 2; nebraska, valentine, october 28; kansas, lawrence, october 3; minnesota, st. vincent, october 9; missouri, st. louis, october 28; new york, long island, november 2; and south carolina, september 10. _casual records._--occurrences of the long-billed dowitcher outside of its normal range must, of necessity be based upon the evidence of specimens, as it is frequently confused with the more common dowitcher of the atlantic coast, from maine to florida. seven were collected in the district of columbia in april, 1884; one at north haven, connecticut, august 5, 1886; hamilton, ontario, august 21, 1891; leighton, alabama, may 15, 1891; dauphin island, alabama (2), july 5, 1913; detroit, michigan, august 26, 1905; yokohama, japan, march 13; and yezo, japan, october 13. _egg dates._--arctic canada: 18 records, june 6 to july 5; 9 records, june 21 to july 3. alaska: 17 records, may 29 to july 1; 9 records, june 3 to 19. micropalama himantopus (bonaparte) stilt sandpiper habits strangely enough i have never seen, or rather recognized, a stilt sandpiper in life. as it is often associated with the lesser yellow-legs and so easily mistaken for it, i may have overlooked it. it is a rare bird in the localities where most of my work on shorebirds has been done and it does not seem to be very common anywhere. it is more common on migrations in the mississippi valley than elsewhere, on its way to and from its restricted breeding range on the barren grounds and arctic coast of canada. _spring._--the spring migration is almost directly north from the gulf of mexico to great slave lake and then down the mackenzie valley and other valleys to the arctic coast. it is rare in spring on the atlantic coast. r. j. longstreet writes to me that he saw three on may 4 and 5, and four on may 8, 1925, in volusia county, florida. c. g. harrold tells me that it is a common spring migrant in manitoba, "even abundant at times, a flock of nearly 300 being seen in may, 1924, at whitewater lake." a. g. lawrence records it, at the same lake, as early as may 5 and as late as june 2; he calls it "uncommon to fairly common." at beaver lake, in northern alberta, william rowan saw flocks of from 20 to 25 birds every day from may 20 to 28, 1924. p. l. hatch (1892) says that, in minnesota, "they come in small flocks, and keep mostly about shallow ponds, and along the smaller streams flowing through the marshes," but he has "found them on the sandy beaches of some of the larger lakes on several occasions." he says "they are shy and exceedingly vigilant, making it no easy matter to get them." _nesting._--comparatively little is known about the nesting habits of the stilt sandpiper. roderick macfarlane (1891) found it "fairly abundant on the shores of franklin bay, where a number of nests with eggs and young were discovered. it is, however, very rare in the interior, only one nest having been taken at rendezvous lake on the borders of the wooded country east of fort anderson." a nest with three eggs, found on june 22, 1863, is described in his notes as "near a small lake and composed of a few decayed leaves placed in a depression in the ground, partly concealed by a tuft of grass;" the female was flushed off the nest and shot. the nest found at rendezvous lake is not described, but one found at franklin bay, on july 6 or 8, 1865, containing four fresh eggs, was "a mere depression in the ground, lined with a few withered leaves and grasses." _eggs._--four eggs is probably the usual number laid by the stilt sandpiper. they are ovate pyriform in shape. the only eggs i have been able to locate are the three sets in the united states national museum, collected by macfarlane. j. h. riley has kindly sent me descriptions and measurements of these. in the set of four eggs the ground color is "ivory yellow" with large irregular blotches and spots of two shades of "mummy brown," and a few rather large shell markings of "hair brown," the latter mostly towards the larger end. the spots and blotches are a little heavier towards the larger end, also, but in no sense do they form a ring. another set of two eggs is similar, but the spots and blotches are much smaller, more numerous, and more evenly distributed over the surface; some of the "mummy brown" spots are even becoming scrawls. the third set of two eggs are like the set of four, except that the ground color is "pale olive buff" and the "mummy brown" blotches are on the average smaller. the measurements of these 7 eggs average 35.5 by 25.1 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes =36= by 25, 35 by =26=, =35= by 25 and 36 by =24.5= millimeters. _young._--mr. mcfarlane (1891) says: "on one occasion we could not help admiring the courage and ingenuity displayed by both parents in defense of their young, which resulted in saving two of the latter from capture." _plumages._--in natal down the stilt sandpiper closely resembles several of the other species of tundra-nesting sandpipers. it can generally be recognized by its relatively longer legs and by its longer bill, with a broader tip. the head markings are also a little different. the forehead, cheeks, and throat are dirty white, with a broad, black, median stripe from bill to crown, another (loral) from bill to eye, and a short one (malar) below it. the crown, back, wings, thighs, and rump are variegated or marbled with black (predominating) and dull browns, "tawny" to "ochraceous tawny," and profusely dotted with dull white terminal down tufts; these dots form a distinct circle around the crown patch, below which the whitish sides of the head are marked with "ochraceous tawny." the lower throat is washed with pale buff, and the rest of the under parts are white. in the juvenal plumage in august the head and neck are streaked with gray and whitish; the crown is dusky, with buffy edgings; the mantle is brownish black and dusky, with "tawny" edgings on the blackest feathers in the back and scapulars, and with pale buff or whitish edgings on the rest of the mantle and tertials; the under parts are white, suffused with pale buff on the throat, breast, and flanks; the wing coverts are edged with pale buff or whitish; the upper tail coverts are white and but little marked; the central tail feathers are dusky, edged with white, and the others are white, margined with dusky. this plumage is not worn long, for the postjuvenal molt of the body plumage begins late in august and lasts through september, producing a first-winter plumage. this is similar to the winter plumage of adults, but can be recognized by the juvenal wing coverts, some scapulars, and tertials. i have been unable to trace the first prenuptial molt of young birds, which is probably accomplished in south america, nor have i been able to recognize a first nuptial plumage. possibly young birds may not come north during their first spring. adults have a partial prenuptial molt in april and may, involving the body plumage, most of the scapulars, and some of the wing coverts and tertials. the complete postnuptial molt begins sometimes during the first week in july and sometimes not until the last of that month, and is completed in about two months, including the wings. a specimen taken in argentina on september 21 had renewed the wings and practically all of the body plumage. in winter plumage the upper parts are brownish gray, with narrow, light edgings; the sides of the head and the under parts are white, with little or no barring; there is a dark streak through the eye, but no rusty on the head. _food._--audubon (1840) watched a flock of about 30 stilt sandpipers feeding, of which he writes: i saw a flock of about 30 long-legged sandpipers alight within 10 steps of me, near the water. they immediately scattered, following the margin of the retiring and advancing waves, in search of food, which i could see them procure by probing the wet sand in the manner of curlews, that is, to the full length of their bill, holding it for a short time in the sand, as if engaging in sucking up what they found. in this way they continued feeding on an extended line of shore of about 30 yards, and it was pleasing to see the alacrity with which they simultaneously advanced and retreated, according to the motions of the water. in about three-quarters of an hour, during all which time i had watched them with attention, they removed a few yards beyond the highest wash of the waves, huddled close together, and began to plume and cleanse themselves. in the stomachs of several individuals i found small worms, minute shellfish, and vegetable substances, among which were the hard seeds of plants unknown to me. n.b. moore watched a stilt sandpiper feeding in florida and says in his notes: it alighted within 20 feet of me and commenced feeding at once, in water that nearly covered the tarsi. i was surprised to see it slowly step along, carrying its bill immersed nearly up to the base, and sweeping it slowly from side to side, much in the manner of the roseate spoonbills, which were at the same moment feeding near by. i noticed no action like that of swallowing at any time, its motions being continuous--as described--until i shot it to make sure of the species. stuart t. danforth (1925) says of the food of this species in porto rico: seven stomachs (five collected on august 20 and two on september 17) were available for examination. animal matter composed 70.1 per cent of the food, and vegetable matter of 29.9 per cent. bloodworms (chironomid larvae) were the largest food item, forming 72.8 per cent of the animal food. from 150 to 600 bloodworms were found in all but two of the stomachs. dytiscid larvae formed 15.5 per cent, small planorbis snails 7.1 per cent, and mosquito larvae 0.8 per cent of the animal matter. the vegetable matter was composed of seeds. seeds of _persicaria_ formed 80 per cent of the vegetable matter; seeds of _sesban emerus_ 7 per cent; seeds of compositae 10.2 per cent, and rubbish 2.8 per cent. prof. william rowan writes to me: in very dirty weather, particularly if a gale is blowing, stilt sandpipers have been noted hunting for food high and dry on rough pasture. this is probably an exceptional performance correlated with this type of weather, for it has never been observed at other times. john t. nichols says in his notes: just how this species makes use of its somewhat peculiar bill is not very clear. i have seen it alighted on flooded dead marsh, wading in the puddles and picking at the projecting dead stubble about on its own level. again i find in my journal reference to three birds which alighted in water to their thighs, and immediately began to feed, moving about close together, immersing the bill to the eyes for an instant or two. verdi burtch (1925), referring to a bird he saw at branchport, n.y., says: i saw it catch and with much effort swallow a small frog, after which it lost all interest in fishing. it walked off a few steps and stood on one foot, all humped up and with eyes closed; quite a contrast to the usual alert sandpiper pose. _behavior._--audubon (1840) writes: the flight of these sandpipers is rapid and regular. they move compactly, and often when about to alight, or after being disturbed, incline their bodies to either side, showing alternately the upper and lower parts. on foot they move more like curlews than tringas, they being as it were more sedate in their deportment. at times, on the approach of a person, they squat on the ground, very much in the manner of the esquimaux curlew, _numenius borealis_; and their flesh is as delicate as that of the species just named. dr. arthur a. allen (1913), after referring to the companionship and resemblance between stilt sandpipers and lesser yellow-legs, says: in their habits, however, the two species were quite different. the yellow-legs were always rangy birds and covered a great deal of ground while feeding. even when resting they were conspicuous by the nervous jerking of the head and neck. in flight they usually formed fairly compact flocks but scattered upon alighting. the stilt sandpipers, on the other hand, were quiet birds and went about their search for food very systematically, gleaning everything in their way. they frequently fed in a space a few yards square for over an hour at a time. when at rest they showed none of the nervous traits of the yellow-legs, being much more sedate, neither jerking the head nor tilting the tail. in flight they were quite similar to the yellow-legs, but as soon as they alighted they bunched and frequently the whole flock fed with their bodies nearly touching. like the yellow-legs, the stilt sandpipers were seldom seen upon the exposed mud but preferred wading where the water was from 1 to 3 inches in depth, so that the entire head and neck frequently disappeared beneath the surface of the water while feeding. the notes of the two birds, though similar in form, were wholly unlike in quality, that of the stilt sandpiper being mellower and lower in pitch. coues (1878) at first mistook birds of this species for dowitchers and did not recognize them until he had them in his hands. he says: they gathered in the same compact groups, waded about in the same sedate, preoccupied manner, fed with the same motion of the head, probing obliquely in shallow water with the head submerged, were equally oblivious of my approach, and when wounded swam with equal facility. the close structural resemblances of the two species are evidently reflected in their general economy. mr. nichols says in his notes: on alighting the stilt sandpiper sometimes lifts its wings halfway for an instant, a mannerism characteristic of the tattler group, which it would seem to have acquired from its associate, the yellow-legs. _voice._--following are mr. nichols's notes on this subject: the common flight note of the stilt sandpiper is very like the single whistled _whu_ of the lesser yellow-legs, but recognizably lower pitched and hoarser, at times with a quaver, _whr-r-u_, and varying down to a shorter, less loud _whrug_. an unloud, reedy _sher_ has been heard from two birds when flushing. though with different feeding habits, stilt sandpiper, dowitcher, and lesser yellow-legs frequent the same grounds, associate very freely on the wing, and all three have a very similar flight note, though sufficiently different for identification. perhaps the very lack of close relationship in these birds has facilitated convergence of their habits and calls, and it is not unreasonable to suppose that close association, even imitation, has played some part in bringing about the likeness of their voices. the greater yellow-legs differs more from the lesser, both in flight note and flight habits, than do these other two unrelated species. _field marks._--i quote again from mr. nichols's notes on field characters, as follows: on the wing the stilt sandpiper resembles the lesser yellow-legs closely. its smaller size is scarcely appreciable, even in a flock of yellow-legs, the members of which will usually be at slightly varying distances from the observer. adults have appreciably darker (barred) lower parts, and young birds, particularly, are greyer above than yellow-legs at the same season in this latitude. the somewhat shorter legs do not project so far beyond the tail, but the proportionately longer bill (with slight apparent drop at its tip) is the stilt sandpiper's best field mark. its bill is proportionately longer even than that of the greater yellow-legs, with which this species is unlikely to be confused, varying as it does away from the lesser yellow-legs in an opposite direction, both as regards size and in other subtle characters. the head and neck of a yellow-legs are more "shapely," differing in this respect somewhat as a black duck differs from sea ducks. on the ground the stilt sandpiper stands lower than a yellow-legs, having decidedly shorter legs, and correspondingly higher than our other shore birds of the same size. the color of its legs, dull olive green, is usually diagnostic. the legs are sometimes yellowish, and very rarely yellow, only one such having come under the writer's personal notice, a young bird in southward migration. the name "greenleg" is often used for it by long island baymen, who also suspect it of being a cross between yellow-legs and dowitcher. at sufficiently close range the margination of the feathers of the upper parts is quite unlike the spotting of the yellow-legs' plumage. the broad white stripe over the eye is conspicuous in any plumage and the whitish tail shows in flight, as different from the whitish triangle on the rump and back of the dowitcher or the white rump of the yellow-legs. most of these field marks, however, are too subtle for easy recognition, unless seen under favorable circumstances. prof. william rowan has sent me the following notes: identification marks of the stilt are excellent and it is quite an easy bird to spot in almost any circumstances. it has a rump pattern all to itself and is therefore readily detected in flight. the end of the tail is darker than that of a yellow-legs, but the white of the rump end, instead of forming a straight line across the back, is horseshoe shaped. although the turnstone and semipalmated plovers are reminiscent, they are quite distinct and not to be confused. when wading--the birds prefer to be belly deep--the carriage of the head makes the species unmistakable. the bill is always held and thrust beneath the surface perpendicularly. this necessitates a straight neck. in profile the feeding individual can be mistaken for no other sandpiper, is quite distinct from the yellow-legs, and can really only be confused with a phalarope. the wilson phalarope habitually wades in this part of the world, swimming only occasionally, but its markings are distinctive. a flock of stilts is the most characteristic sight and the species can be identified at a great distance. the curious position of the head just referred to and the crowding of the individuals into each other make a quite unmistakable combination. they feed practically shoulder to shoulder, seldom scattering. the yellow-legs of a flock are always scattered, and the general aspect of the individuals is entirely different. stilts never bob their heads after the manner of yellow-legs. _fall._--the fall migration of adults begins very early, coming along with the dowitchers and first summer yellow-legs. i have an adult female in my collection, taken on july 5, 1885, on monomoy island, massachusetts. the main flight of adults comes along during the latter half of july and first half of august, in this state, and the young birds come through in august and september; but this is a rare bird here, and the flight generally lasts for only a few days. mr. nichols tells me that: on long island the stilt sandpiper is usually uncommon, occurring in small numbers often closely associated with lesser yellow-legs or dowitcher. rarely it occurs in great waves or flights as on august 12, 1912. this flight was made up exclusively of adult birds, so far as the writer's observations went. for the remainder of that season the species was unusually common. if, in ordinary years, some 200 stilt sandpipers are present on long island in southward migration, there were probably 3,000 in 1912. the earliest i have seen this species south on long island is july 10, 1921, two or three or more individuals associated with 40 or 50 lesser yellow-legs. in the interior this species is commoner than it is on the atlantic coast. mr. harrold says that in manitoba it is fairly common in the fall, adults being noted as early as july 5; the young birds are usually with the lesser yellow-legs in the fall. mr. hersey collected a series for me in manitoba between july 18 and 29, 1913. stilt sandpipers were formerly sold in the markets, mixed with bunches of summer yellow-legs, but their sale is now prohibited, and they are too small to be considered as game birds. _winter._--the winter home of the stilt sandpiper seems to be in southern south america, argentina, paraguay, uruguay, and chile, but actual records substantiated by specimens are not numerous. ernest gibson (1920) shot some "out of a flock of over 100" which "might easily have been 200, so closely were they massed." they "were feeding on marshy ground; and as the flock rose at" his "approach, circled and passed away, the white under surfaces were quite dazzling in the sunlight." this was near cape san antonio, buenos aires, on december 27, 1913. dr. alexander wetmore (1926) writes: the stilt sandpiper was encountered only in the chaco, west of puerto pinasco, paraguay, though it has been said that it is common in some parts of the province of buenos aires in winter. at kilometer 80, on september 20, 1920, the first arrivals, a flock of a dozen, were recorded at the border of a lagoon; as i watched they rose suddenly to whirl rapidly away to the southward. on the following day about 20 were seen, and an adult female was taken. at kilometer 170, on september 24, a small flock passed down the nearly dry channel of an alkaline stream known as the riacho salado, while at laguna wall (kilometer 200) about 30 were seen september 24, and 40 on the day following. the birds were found in little flocks, often mingled with other waders that walked or waded through shallow water on muddy shores where they probed with their bills for food. distribution _range._--north america, south to southern south america. the stilt sandpiper is one of the rarer shore birds and but little is known of its range and migrations. _breeding range._--north to probably northeastern alaska (demarcation point); probably yukon (herschel island); mackenzie (fort anderson, rendezvous lake, franklin bay, and probably kogaryuak river); and probably keewatin (cape eskimo). east to probably keewatin (cape eskimo); and probably manitoba (fort churchill and york factory). south to probably manitoba (york factory); and mackenzie (artillery lake). west to mackenzie (artillery lake); and probably alaska (demarcation point). eggs have been taken only in northern mackenzie. _winter range._--imperfectly known, but probably north to tepic (acaponeta river); zacatecas; tamaulipas (matamoros); rarely texas (corpus christi); rarely louisiana (state game preserve); and cuba. east probably to cuba; and brazil (ilha grande). south probably to brazil (ilha grande); uruguay (colonia); and chile. west to chile; bolivia (falls of the madeira); central peru (chorillos and yquitos); ecuador (babahoyo); colombia (cienaga); nicaragua (_=momotombo=_); guatemala (duenas); oaxaca (tehuantepec); jalisco (manzanillo and la barca); and tepic (ocaponeta river). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival in the spring are: florida, banana creek, march 10, smyrna, march 26, and pensacola, april 5; north carolina, cape hatteras, may 19; new york, long island, may 18; connecticut, westport, may 28, and west haven, may 30; rhode island, sakonnet, may 9; maine, saco, may 5; missouri, kansas city, april 30; illinois, chicago, may 26; iowa, sioux city, may 7, emmetsburg, may 10, and wall lake, may 23; wisconsin, racine, april 10; minnesota, wilder, may 1, and waseca, may 14; texas, bonham, march 29; kansas, mcpherson, may 7; nebraska, kearney, may 6, and neligh, may 10; south dakota, harrison, may 5, vermilion, may 9, and sioux falls, may 14; north dakota, harrisburg, may 1, and sweetwater, may 5; manitoba, whitewater lake, may 12; colorado, barr, april 27, fort lyon, may 2, colorado springs, may 14, and loveland, may 20; wyoming, cheyenne, may 25; alberta, fort chipewyan, june 6; mackenzie, fort resolution, may 19, and athabaska delta, june 4; and alaska, demarcation point, may 23. stilt sandpipers also have been detected as late as april in cuba and jamaica while a late date for their departure from lake palomas, mexico, is april 7, from dummetts, florida, april 14 and port orange, florida, may 5. _fall migration._--early dates of arrival for the species on its return from the north are: colorado, barr, july 5; north dakota, benson county, july 1, and nelson's lake, july 14; south dakota, forestburg, july 7; nebraska, lincoln, july 19; iowa, sioux city, july 12; texas corpus christi, july 3; ontario, toronto, july 18; maine, chebeague island, july 19, and scarboro, july 30; new hampshire, rye, july 31; massachusetts, cape cod, july 4, and needham, july 24; rhode island, newport, july 6, and block island, july 15; new york, east hampton, july 11; north carolina, churches island, july 29; bahama islands, fortune island, august 5; barbados, july; st. batholomew, september; and paraguay, kilometer 80, september 20. late dates of fall departure are: british columbia, sumas lake, september 19; colorado, fort lyon, september 8, larimer county, september 9, and barr, october 5; mackenzie, fort simpson, august 19, and lower slave river, august 27; manitoba, carberry, august 29, and qu'appelle, september 16; nebraska, lincoln, november 11; kansas, lawrence, september 19; wisconsin, kelley brook, september 13; iowa, burlington, september 28; ontario, toronto, september 26; ohio, columbus, october 4; illinois, chicago, september 1, grand crossing, september 23, and cantine lake, september 28; missouri, st. louis, september 12, and kansas city, september 28; maine, scarboro, september 16; massachusetts, chatham, september 20, and cape cod, september 29; rhode island, newport, september 9; new york, buffalo, september 16, bronx, september 19, cayuga, october 10, and jamaica, november 28; new jersey, morristown, october 16; maryland, pawtuxent river, september 8; district of columbia, anacostia river, october 26; north carolina, churches island, september 23; and florida, fernandina, october 10, and key west, november 1. _casual records._--the rarity of the stilt sandpiper makes it difficult to determine whether some occurrences should be listed as regular migrants or as accidentals. some of the following cases may be on the regular migration route of the species: bermuda, two early in august, 1848 and one in early september, 1875; newfoundland, cow head, september, 1867; nova scotia, sable island, august 18, 1902; new brunswick, courtenay bay, september 8, 1881; and montana, chief mountain, august, 1874. _egg dates._--arctic canada: 3 records, june 22 and 27 and july 8. calidris canutus rufus (wilson) american knot habits this cosmopolitan species, with a circumpolar breeding range, has been split into two generally recognized forms occupying the two hemispheres, with a doubtful third form, _rodgersi_, said to occupy eastern asia. our american bird is well named _rufus_ on account of its color. the knot, or redbreast, as it is called on cape cod, was a very abundant migrant all along the atlantic coast of north america during the past century. george h. mackay (1893) writes: on the dennis marshes and flats, at chatham, the nauset, wellfleet, and billingsgate, cape cod, and on the flats around tuckernuck and muskeget islands, mass., they used to be more numerous than in all the rest of new england combined, and being very gregarious they would collect in those places in exceedingly large numbers, estimates of which were useless. this was previous to 1850 and when the cape cod railroad was completed only to sandwich. often, when riding on the top of the stage coach on the cape beyond this point, immense numbers of these birds could be seen, as they rose up in clouds, during the period that they sojourned there. it was at this time that the vicious practice of "fire-lighting" them prevailed, and a very great number of them were thus killed on the flats at night in the vicinity of billingsgate (near wellfleet). the mode of procedure was for two men to start out after dark at half tide, one of them to carry a lighted lantern, the other to reach and seize the birds, bite their necks, and put them in a bag slung over the shoulder. when near a flock they would approach them on their hands and knees, the birds being almost invariably taken on the flats. this practice continued several years before it was finally prohibited by law. i have it directly from an excellent authority that he has seen in the spring, six barrels of these birds (all of which had been taken in this manner) at one time, on the deck of the cape cod packet for boston. he has also seen barrels of them, which had spoiled during the voyage, thrown overboard in boston harbor on arrival of the packet. the price of these birds at that time was 10 cents per dozen; mixed with them would be turnstones and black-bellied plover. not one of these birds had been shot, all having been taken with the aid of a "fire-light." arthur t. wayne (1910) says: on may 18, 1895, i saw, on long island beach, a flock of these birds which i estimated to contain fully fifteen hundred individuals, while on may 21 of the same year, i observed a flock that had alighted on the beach, and that comprised without a doubt more than 3,000 birds. excessive shooting, both in spring and fall, reduced this species to a pitiful remnant of its former numbers; but spring shooting was stopped before it was too late and afterwards this bird was wisely taken off the list of game birds; it has increased slowly since then, but it is far from abundant now and makes only a short stay on cape cod. _spring._--the main migration route of the knot in spring is northward along the atlantic coast. the first birds usually reach the united states from south america early in april. on the west coast of florida, in 1925, i took my first birds on april 2, and they were commonest about the middle of april. i have found them very common on the coast of south carolina as late as may 23. mr. mackay (1893) writes: they are still found in greater or less numbers along the atlantic coast south of chesapeake bay. near charleston, s. c., mr. william brewster noted about 150 knots on may 6 and 8, 1885, and saw a number of flocks on may 13. they were flying by, or were alighted, on sullivan island beach. on may 17, 1883, he noted about 100 of these birds in the same locality. in the spring they pass charlotte harbor, florida, so i am informed, in large numbers, coming up the coast from the south (a flight on may 26, 1890), at which time they are very tame. they are also more or less numerous near morehead city, north carolina (where they are known as "beach robins"), from may 15 to 30, their flight being along the beach, just over the surf, at early morning, coming from the east in the neighborhood of point lookout, 10 or 12 miles away, where they probably resorted to roost. this indicates that these birds were living in that locality. on the massachusetts coast the spring flight comes in may. mr. mackay (1893) says: the most favorable time to expect them at this season is during fine, soft, south to southwest weather, and formerly they could be expected to pass in numbers between may 20 and june 5. in former times, when such conditions prevailed, thousands collected on cape cod, when they would remain for a few days to a week before resuming migration. the knot is less common in the interior, but prof. william rowan evidently regards it as a regular migrant in alberta during the latter part of may; his notes record a flock of about 200 on may 21 and one of over 150 on may 23. it seems to be a comparatively rare migrant on the coast of california, where it never was abundant. but it still occurs in large numbers on the coast of washington. in some notes from gray's harbor, sent to me by d. e. brown, he mentions a flock of over 500 birds seen on may 14, 1920. and s. f. rathbun has sent me the following notes: late on the afternoon of may 16, 1921, we were on the south side of gray's harbor, washington, on a marsh meadow bordered by the tide flats. at this hour the tide was nearly at its full, and the many shore birds that had been feeding on the flats were forced to retreat before the incoming waters and in consequence were driven close to the edge of the meadow. not far from where we lay concealed a very large number of these had assembled on a somewhat elevated stretch of ground near the meadows border, among them being several hundred of the knots, these in two or three compact flocks all the individuals of which were facing the wind. the knots were resting quietly although there was much movement going on among the shore birds. we could easily by the aid of our glasses, see many turnstones, a few greater yellow-legs, these keeping by themselves, and in the shallow water at the edge of the flats a very large number of red-backed sandpipers and long-billed dowitchers, flanked by an immense flock of the smaller sandpipers. at this time the sun was low in the west and its almost horizontal rays fell full on the breasts of the knots, for in facing the wind they happened to be turned toward the sun, whose light intensified the pale cinnamon of their breasts, this making a beautiful sight. without any warning nearly all of this mass of birds suddenly took wing. as they rose, the knots keeping by themselves separated into three compact flocks and rising high in the air then flew directly towards the north giving their calls as they did so, and this appears to be a habit of the species when taking wing. again, the knot does not appear to fly aimlessly about as do many other of the shore birds, and is generally to be seen in flocks, the individuals of which are closely associated, although at times scattering birds will be observed; and in flight by the seeming course a flock will pursue, we always receive an impression that it has some objective point in view. dr. w. e. ekblaw has sent me some very full notes on the habits of the knot in northwestern greenland in which he says: the knot is one of the commoner shore birds of northwest greenland, but even so, not numerous anywhere. it arrives in the land as early as the end of may, for early in the spring of 1915 when my two eskimos, esayoo and etukashoo, and i were encamped at fort conger on discovery harbor in latitude 81â° 45â´ n., we heard the keen call of the knots flying over our camp the afternoon of may 30. the first knots that come are generally in small flocks, but they soon mate and scatter to their nesting places, only a few coming together from time to time near the favorite feeding places. if the weather of early june be inclement the flocks do not scatter so soon, but remain together until the conditions become favorable for mating and nesting. it is quite likely that some of the pairs are already mated when they arrive, for the sex organs are fully developed and ready to function upon their arrival. in northeastern greenland the time of arrival is about the same, for a. l. manniche (1910) writes: the knots arrived at the stormkap territory in couples at exactly the same time as did the other waders; in two summers, respectively, on june 2 and may 28. while the sanderlings, dunlins, turnstones, and ringed plovers immediately took to the sparsely occurring spots free from snow, the knots would prefer to go to the still snow-covered hollows in the marshes and moors, where i saw them running on the snow eagerly occupied in picking up the seed of _carex_-and _luzula_-tufts the ends of which here and there appeared over the snow. this sandpiper more than its relatives, feeds on plants at certain seasons. in the first days i also observed now and then a couple of knots on snowless spots on elevated table-lands and even on the top of the high gravel banks at stormkap. these may, however, have settled there in order to rest after the voyage and not to search food. as soon as ponds of melting snow and fresh-water beaches free from ice were to be found, the knots would resort to these, and here the birds wading or swimming looked for animal diet. in this season the knot did not appear on the salt-water shore like other waders. gradually as more extensive stretches of low-lying table-land became free from snow, the knots occurred more frequently here in their real nesting quarters; they would, however, still for a while often visit moors and marshes with a rich vegetation of _cyperaceae_. _courtship._--doctor ekblaw describes this as follows: the courtship is brief but ardent. whether it is the females that woo the males, as among the phalaropes, or as normally the males that woo the females, it is difficult to determine, for the breeding plumages of the two sexes are quite indistinguishable. on june 3, 1916, i observed closely the courtship of three knots high up on one of the plateaus of numataksuah, back of north star bay. two males (?) were evidently pursuing one female (?), she leading, they winging rapidly in her wake, contending as they flew; apparently all uttered the shrill piercing call to which the knots so frequently give voice during the mating and nesting season of early summer, and which one rarely, if ever, hears after the young are hatched. in great circles they flew, now and then stooping to a zigzag pirouetting and dodging, again rising in wide circles until they disappeared from sight in the bright sky, though their shrill calls came to earth as sharp and clear as ever. in the ecstasy of the mating season a single bird may indulge himself (?) in a kind of dance flight alone. he rises high above the hills, sweeping the sky in great graceful circles not unlike the stately flight of the sparrow hawk, so smooth and calm it seems. from time to time he utters the shrill, clarion call of the mating season, or the soft _coo-yee_ that is most common about the nesting grounds. then suddenly he drops wildly, tumbling and tossing like a night jar at sunset, as suddenly to break his fall and soar for miles on still, outstretched wings, not a movement noticeable. mr. manniche (1910) refers to it as follows: the male suddenly gets up from the snow-clad ground, and producing the most beautiful flutelike notes, following an oblique line with rapid wing strokes, mounts to an enormous height often so high that he can not be followed with the naked eye. up here in the clear frosty air he flies around in large circles on quivering wings and his melodious far-sounding notes are heard far and wide over the country, bringing joy to other birds of his own kin. the song sounds now more distant, now nearer, when three or four males are singing at the same time. now and then the bird slides slowly downwards on stiff wings with the tail feathers spread; then again he makes himself invisible in the higher regions of the air, mounting on wings quivering even faster than before. only now and then the observer--guided by the continuing song--succeeds for a moment in discerning the bird at a certain attitude of flight, when the strong sunlight falls upon his golden-colored breast or light wings. gradually, as in increasing excitement he executes the convulsive vibrations of his wings, his song changes to single deeper notes--following quickly after each other--at last to die out while the bird at the same time drops to the earth on stiff wings strongly bent upward. this fine pairing song may be heard for more than a month everywhere at the breeding places, and it wonderfully enlivens this generally so desolate and silent nature. the song will at certain stages remind of the fluting call note of the curlew (_numenius arquatus_), but it varies so much with the temper of the bird that it can hardly be expressed or compared with anything else. _nesting._--the nesting habits of the knot long remained unknown; arctic explorers were baffled in their attempts to find the nest; and the eggs were among the greatest desiderata of collectors. this is not to be wondered at, however, when we consider the remoteness of its far northern breeding grounds, its choice of its nesting sites on high inland plains, its widely scattered nests, and its habit of sitting very closely on its eggs and not returning to them after flushing. col. h. w. feilden (1879) writes: night after night i passed out on the hills trying to find the nest of the knot. not a day passed without my seeing them feeding in small flocks; but they were very wild, rising with shrill cries when one approached within a quarter of a mile of the mud flats on which they were feeding. it is very extraordinary, considering the hundreds of miles traversed by myself and my companions--all of us on the lookout for this bird's eggs, and several of us experienced bird's-nesters--that we found no trace of its breeding until the young in down were discovered. some of the earlier records of knot's nests are open to doubt, but there can be no doubt about the two nests found by peary in 1909. referring to his own failure and peary's success, colonel feilden (1920) says: the nests and eggs of the knot were obtained by peary in the vicinity of floeberg beach where the "nares" expedition of 1875-76 wintered on the exposed coast of grinnell land north of 82â° n. lat., and where peary, on the _roosevelt_, wintered in 1908 and 1909 at cape sheridan some 3 or 4 miles farther north, and which was the base for his ever-memorable adventure to the north pole. probably the reason why we failed in 1876 to obtain the eggs was due to our ignorance of the localities selected by the birds for nesting. we saw the birds circling over and feeding around the small pools of water left by the melted snow, which here and there were surrounded by sparse tufts of vegetation, and we gave too much of our scanty time to the searching of the marshy spots. peary's photographs show that in grinnell land the knot has its nests on the more elevated slopes and surfaces covered by frost-riven rocks and shales. the finding of a knot's nest in grinnell land is not an easy task, and it is highly commendable that peary on his return from the north pole to cape sheridan, and in the midst of his engrossing and more important duties found occasions to take the unique photographs here reproduced. two nests with eggs were found by the crockerland expedition in northwestern greenland, of which doctor ekblaw has sent me the following account: though level lands along the shores and the river valleys, or about the pools constitute the feeding grounds of the knots, the high plateaus far back among the hills, covered with glacial gravel or frost-riven rubble, furnish their nesting sites. by this rather anomalous choice of nesting site, the knot was long able to keep its nest and eggs a secret, and it was not until the members of the crockerland arctic expedition persistently ran down every clue that two full clutches of eggs in the nests were discovered in june, 1916, on a high flat-topped ridge back of north star bay, at least 3 miles from shore. the nests are placed in shallow depressions among the brown clumps of _dryas integrifolia_ and _elyna bellardi_ which grow among the rubbles and gravel of the high ridges. the nest is merely a small hollow, apparently rudely shaped by the nesting bird. the bird in the nest is so like the terrane about her, that she is well-nigh indistinguishable from it, even to one who knows exactly where she is sitting. trusting to her effective concealment, the mother bird does not flush from the nest until almost pushed from it. when i placed a camera only a foot from the sitting bird she did not leave it. though frightened so sorely that she panted and her heart beat visibly, she stuck to her precious eggs. her head turned to the wind, she crouched flat upon the eggs, her feathers ruffled wide to hide them. when finally i placed my hand upon her, she broke away, trying by the well-known shore-bird device of feigning injury and inability to fly to draw the intruders away. the bird did not appear at all shy and when she failed to draw us away, remained near us, evidently anxious, but trying to appear unconcerned. now and then she uttered a soft, but sharply pleading call, more plaint than protest. one nesting bird did not leave her eggs until doctor hunt pushed her, protesting plaintively quite away from the nest, with the stock of his rifle. a set of four eggs in edward arnold's collection was taken by capt. joseph bernard, july 1, 1918, on taylor island, victoria land. the nest was in a dry spot in a wet marsh; there was a snow bank 50 yards from the nest and a pond on the south side of the nest 100 yards away. he watched the nest for three or four hours, from a hill 500 yards away, but did not see the bird again. _eggs._--the knot lays four eggs, perhaps sometimes only three. the eggs are ovate pyriform in shape, with a slight gloss. in the set of three eggs, taken by the crockerland expedition and now in col. john e. thayer's collection, the ground colors vary from "pale olive buff" to "olive buff"; they are spotted all over, but more thickly at the larger end, with small spots or scrawls of "sepia," "saccardo's umber," and "vandyke brown," with underlying spots of "pallid" and "pale brownish drab." the other set of four eggs, from the same source and now in the american museum of natural history, is thus described for me by ludlow griscom: ground color varying from white with the faintest tinge of light olive (1 egg) to "olive buff" (2 eggs) and deep "olive buff" (1 egg); clouded and spotted, especially at the larger end, with shades of color varying from "dark olive buff" to "olive brownish," the intensity varying in direct proportion to the intensity of the ground color; where the spots coalesce into blotches at the larger end of the darkest egg, the color is blackish brown; the spotting is scant at the smaller end. referring in his notes to the same two sets of eggs, doctor ekblaw describes the ground colors as varying from very light pea-green, almost gray, to dark pea-green, "with brown, umber, and almost black dots and blotches of varying size and shape over the green, and faint subcrustal lavender blotches showing through." other eggs which i have seen figured or described would fit these descriptions fairly well. the measurements of 42 eggs average 43.1 by 29.6 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =49.8= by =33.8=, =39.9= by 29.7 and 41.5 by =27.7= millimeters. _young._--the period of incubation is said to be between 20 and 25 days. both sexes have been taken with incubation patches, so this duty is doubtless shared by both. i quote from doctor ekblaw's notes again: though we found but two clutches of eggs, we discovered many families of young birds. they are able to leave the nest as soon as hatched, little gray downy chicks with faint blotches of brown, so like the dried tufts of _dryas_ as to be quite undiscoverable when hidden among them. three or four, or rarely five, chicks constitute the group. their faint plaintive "cheeps" are so ventriloquistic and illusory that it is impossible to distinguish the direction from which they come. when an intruder approaches the little fellows squat at the signal from the parent bird wherever they happen to be at the time, and remain immovable as the pebbles and tufts of _dryas_ until the danger is over, even though it be hours before the safety seems assured. even the tiniest of these downy fledglings seem able to look after themselves. they run eagerly and constantly about independently pursuing the moths, crane flies, and flies upon which they feed, often 40 or 50 feet from their mother. the first signal from the mother, a mellow, solicitous _coo-ee_ transforms them into immovable pebbles or tufts of _dryas_. when they are discovered and realize that their concealment is no longer effective, they scatter panic stricken like a flock of little chickens, chirping appealingly to their "mother" who dashes valiantly to their defense, quite beside "herself" with concern, fear, and anger. whenever the jaegers, relentless brigands of birdland, appear, the old knots do not hesitate to attack. in combining their forces, they drive full into the bigger birds, striking them from beneath again and again, until they chase them away. the young grow fast. in three weeks after hatching they are almost full grown and half-clothed in feathers, quite capable of taking care of themselves. they stay until they leave among the interior plains and plateaus, coming down to shore only when they are able to fly--and then the southward migration begins at once. apparently, the knots, like the phalaropes, reverse part of their secondary sex characteristics, for all the birds caring for the young that i collected were males, beyond doubt. when i examined the first bird that i collected with its young, i was surprised to find that the supposed "mother," who had so valiantly and zealously shielded "her" little ones, was actually father. i thought then that perhaps the mother bird had been killed and that in the emergency the father had assumed the responsibility for the youngsters; but later i became convinced by examination of many birds, that invariably it is the male that cares for the fledglings after they are hatched. the female incubates the eggs, but the male relieves her of further care in bringing up the family. _plumages._--in its natal down the young knot can be easily recognized by the grayish, mottled colors on the upper parts and the absence of browns and bright buffs. the shape of the bill, characteristic of the species, is also diagnostic. the crown, back, rump, wings, and thighs are finely mottled or spotted with black, white, gray and dull "cinnamon buff," the last being the basal color. the forehead, the sides of the head, the throat, and the entire under parts are dull white, tinged with grayish on the flanks and crissum. there is a broad median stripe on the forehead, a broad loral stripe from the bill to the eye and a narrower rictal stripe of black. the juvenal plumage appears first on the wings, scapulars, and sides of the breast; the primaries burst their sheaths before the young bird is half grown. in the juvenal plumage, as seen on migration in august, the crown is heavily streaked with blackish brown, the feathers being edged with light buff; the feathers of the back and scapulars have an outer border of light buff, then a black border, then another buff, and sometimes a faint black border inside of that; the greater and median wing coverts have a terminal buff and a subterminal black border; the tail feathers are edged with buff and the under parts are more or less suffused with pale buff. probably the buff is brighter and deeper in fresh plumage and it fades out to white before this plumage is molted. a postjuvenal molt takes place, between september and december, of the body plumage, some scapulars and some wing coverts. this produces the first winter plumage, which is like that of the adult, except for the retained juvenal scapulars and wing coverts. i have seen birds in this plumage as early as september 30. a partial prenuptial molt, similar to that of the adult, produces during the spring a first nuptial plumage in which young birds can be distinguished from adults by varying amounts of retained winter feathers. at the next complete molt, the first postnuptial young birds assume the fully adult winter plumage. adults have a partial prenuptial molt between february and june, involving most of the body plumage, but not all of the scapulars, wing coverts, and tertials. there is much individual variation in the time of this molt. i have seen birds in full nuptial plumage as early as march 21 and in full winter plumage as late as may 13. the complete postnuptial molt begins in july with the body molt, which is usually completed before october. i have seen adults in full nuptial plumage as late as september 6. the red-breasted birds reported by mr. mackay (1893) as shot on cape cod in december and february must have been exceptional cases of delayed or omitted molt; the february birds may have been cases of early spring molt. _food._--doctor ekblaw says: their food when they first come to the north is scarce, and when the weather is unduly unfavorable they are hard put to it to find enough to live. they probe about the grasses and sedges on the wet moors and along the swales and pools, and sometimes wade breast deep into the water to pick out the small but abundant life that swarms in some of the pools, mostly crustacea and larvae. the upper mandible is relatively soft and pliant. sometimes they search the tide pools left at low water, or poke about the rocks and gravel along shore. other arctic explorers have referred to the scanty food of the knot in the north; h. chichester hart (1880) says that "of a number of knots' stomachs examined, only one contained any food; this consisted of two caterpillars, one bee, and pieces of an alga;" colonel feilden (1879) saw knots "feeding eagerly on the buds of _saxifraga oppositifolia_;" mr. manniche (1910) "saw them running on the snow eagerly occupied in picking up the seed of _carex_ and _lazula_ tufts, the ends of which here and there appeared over the snow." later on, when the ponds and marshes are teeming with animal life, they have plenty of food. with us, on migrations, the knots feed mainly on the sandy and stony beaches, moving deliberately along in compact groups close to the water's edge, probing in the sand for minute mollusks and small crustaceans. on the sandy beaches on the west coast of florida, the wet sand is filled with minute shellfish known as _coquinas_, on which the knots seemed to be feeding. they also feed to some extent on the mud flats and sand flats with the black-bellied plover, where they find marine insects and their larvae. mr. mackay (1893) says "they also eat the larvae of one of the cutworms (noctuidae) which they obtain on the marshes," some of which he has found in their throats when shot. edward h. forbush (1912) says: "they are fond of the spawn of the horsefoot crab, which, often in company with the turnstone, they dig out of the sand, sometimes fighting the former birds before they can claim their share." w. l. mcatee (1911) says that they also feed on grasshoppers and on marine worms of the genus _nereis_. _behavior._--the knots fly swiftly in compact flocks, twisting and turning in unison like the smaller sandpipers, for which they might easily be mistaken at a distance. on the ground they are rather deliberate in their movements, generally grouped in compact bunches and all moving along together; they are less likely to scatter over their feeding grounds than other waders. when resting on the high beaches between tides they stand quietly in close groups, all facing the wind; their grey plumage renders them quite inconspicuous at such times. f. h. allen tells me that he has seen half a dozen of them hopping about on one leg in shallow water; this may be a sort of game, frequently indulged in by many small waders. mr. manniche (1910) says: peculiar to this species is its restless character. the resident couples would every day make long excursions, not only to seek food, but probably also for pleasure. their great power of flight makes them able to do this without difficulty. in rapid high flight they are now here and now there. i often saw them set out in a northern direction high over the summits of the mountains or in a southern far out over the ice in the firths, to return after a short while. in the breeding season the male is pugnacious and quarrelsome against birds of its own kin as well as against other small birds, which appear within his domain. uttering a short cry he will fly up and pursue the intruder in the most violent manner and often he would follow it so far away, that i could not see them, even through my field glass. he would soon return, and having--triumphantly fluting--circled around several times, go down to his mate. i have seen the knot pursue even skuas. mr. mackay (1893) writes: on the ground they are sluggish and not given to moving about much; unless very much harassed they are not nearly so vigilant as their companions, the black-bellied plover, but when they have become shy they are exceedingly wary and always on the alert for danger. when the incoming tide drives the knots from the flats they seek the marshes or some shoal which is sufficiently elevated to remain uncovered during high water; they also frequent the crest of the beaches. here they generally remain quiet until the tide has fallen sufficiently to permit them to return again to the flats to feed. when on the marshes during high water they occupy some of the time in feeding, showing they are by no means dependent on the flats for all their food. they associate and mingle freely with the turnstone (_arenaria interpres_), black-bellied plover (_charadrius squatarola_), and red-backed sandpiper (_tringa alpina pacifica_) as with their own kind, and apparently evince the same friendship toward the two former birds as prevails between the american golden plover (_charadrius dominicus_) and the eskimo curlew (_numenius borealis_). i have heard of but one instance (at revere, mass., during a storm) of the knot being noted in the same flock with adult american golden plover. at this time there were three, one of which was shot. i have heard, however, of both adult and young knots mingling with young american golden plover, or "pale-bellies," as they are locally called. _voice._--the same writer says: they make two notes. one is soft, of two articulations, and sounds like the word "wah-quoit" (by which name it is sometimes known on cape cod); although uttered low, it can be heard quite a distance. this note is particularly noticeable when flocks are coming to the decoys; it has a faint rolling sound similar to the note of the american golden plover (_charadrius dominicus_) under the same conditions, only more subdued and faint. the other is a single note resembling a little honk. these birds will also respond to the note of the black-bellied plover (_charadrius squatarola_) as readily as to their own when it is given with a whistle. roland c. ross (1924) gives the following graphic description of the croaking note: the common call is a low-pitched, hoarse "skeuk," the lowest and heaviest voice on the flats. it struck me as a dull croak, coming pretty regularly from the feeding birds, and especially strong when they took wing. a lone bird in joining the flock would croak his coming. the sound can be imitated in quality and form but in a higher pitch. make the facial contortions necessary to "cluck" to a horse, but don't "cluck"; make it "skeuk," and locate it in the wisdom teeth on the side being dislocated. pitch it low; it will still be two tones too high. at a distance the sucking or harsh quality is lost. a softer, more musical rendition is given when the birds are well bunched and feeding, which came to my ear as "chook." john t. nichols (1920) says: "the flight note of the knot is a low-pitched whistle, frequently in two parts, with a peculiar lisp or buzz in it, _tlu tlu_." doctor ekblaw describes the notes heard on the breeding grounds as follows: four distinct calls characterize the mating and nesting season. most common are two piercingly shrill calls uttered generally on the wing, one of them resembling _wah-quoi_ and the other _wee-a-whit_, easily distinguished, but somewhat alike. the long-drawn-out _coo-a-hee_, or _coo-hee_, is a soft, flutelike call also given in flight, but nearly always back among the hills, far from the shore where the nests are hidden. this flutelike call appears to be a signal or recognition call. the fourth call is a sharp, querulous _whit_, _whit_, _whit_, almost like a cluck, often given singly, but more often many times repeated. when their nesting haunts are invaded or their feeding grounds disturbed this call expresses their displeasure. _field marks._--in spring plumage the knot is easily recognized by its reddish breast, which, however, is not as conspicuous as might be expected. in immature and winter plumage the best character is the absence of any conspicuous field mark. even in flight it seems to be a plain gray bird; the rump and tail appear but little lighter than the rest of the upper parts and the faint white line in the wings is hardly noticeable. its larger size will hardly distinguish it from the smaller sandpipers except by direct comparison. its short, greenish yellow legs and its prominent bill might help one to recognize it under favorable circumstances. _fall._--doctor ekblaw says: as soon as the water begins to grow cold, when insect and other small life becomes scarce, and when the midnight sun approaches the horizon, the knots abandon the northland, plump and strong from their summer stay in the arctic, and wend their way to the southland. not even a belated straggler can be found after august 1. the adults begin to arrive on cape cod about the middle of july; the height of their abundance comes about the first week in august and most of them disappear during that month, although mr. mackay (1893) has recorded them in october, december, and february. the young birds begin to arrive there about august 20, but the main flight of "graybacks," as the young are called on this coast, comes along in september and early october, stragglers sometimes lingering into november. when with us, knots frequent the beaches; although they are found on both sandy and stony beaches, i have sometimes thought that they preferred the pebbly beaches, feeding close to the water line, where they are often surprisingly invisible among the variously colored stones. they are not shy, as a rule, and generally allow a close approach before they fly off swiftly, uttering their characteristic notes. at high tide, when their feeding grounds are covered, they resort to the high beaches to rest, preen their plumage, and sleep. by july 20 the first birds have reached south carolina, where some remain until october 15. we saw what was probably the last of the migration on the west coast of florida in 1924. the knots were there when we arrived on november 11. during a northerly gale and after a heavy rain on the 21st i saw several small flocks on the high and dry sand of an exposed beach, huddled together in compact bunches and reluctant to move. the last birds were seen on the 26th. in the interior the knot seems to be even rarer in the fall than in the spring, but on the pacific coast the reverse seems to be the case. it is regarded as rather rare in alaska, but f. s. hersey collected a small series for me at st. michael on august 4 and 8, 1915, and h. b. conover took two at golovin bay on august 14, 1924. d. e. brown's notes record them at grays harbor, washington, from august 21 to november 2, 1917. _game._--although no longer on the game-bird list, the knot is a good game bird. it flies in compact flocks, comes well to the decoys when attracted by the whistle of an experienced caller, flies rather swiftly, and makes a good table bird, for it is of good size and usually fat. it was always included in the list of what we used to call "big birds." on cape cod knots in all plumages are called "redbreasts" by the gunners, though the name "grayback" is often applied to the young birds. mr. mackay (1893) says: when shy and coming to decoys to alight, they barely touch their feet to the sand before they discover their mistake and are off in an instant. they fly quickly and closely together and, when coming to decoys, usually pass by them down wind, most of the flock whistling, then suddenly wheeling with heads to the wind, and up to the decoys. at such times many are killed at one discharge. dr. l. c. sanford (1903) writes: one of my pleasant recollections of shore-bird shooting is associated with this bird. i give the date with some hesitation, for it was may 10, near cobb island. during several days previous redbreast had been flying, but the tides were not suitable, and it was useless to try for them. here the flight is along the outer beach, at the edge of the surf, the birds stopping to feed on the mud flats exposed by the falling tide. the sun was not up and the water still high as we set the decoys off one of the points along the beach, close to the breaking waves; the blind was of seaweed, and before we were settled the first flock passed by high up, but a pair of birds dropped out of it and hovered in front of us; another minute and 10 more swung in. flock after flock, from a few birds to hundreds, passed in the same line, coming into sight over the ocean, striking the beach and following its edge--now low just over the surf, now high up--the first light of sunrise giving them a black appearance. the undulating character of the flight was unmistakable and was in evidence when the dark line first appeared--now distinct on the horizon, presently out of sight in the waves, all of a sudden rising up over the decoys to circle in. our chance lasted only a few minutes, for when the flat was exposed the birds all passed by out of range; occasionally we whistled in an odd one, but the flocks shied off. as we carried back our basket of birds it did not occur to us that the experience of that morning would be our last flight of redbreast, but it was. distribution _breeding range._--the breeding range of the knot in north america is imperfectly known, but appears to extend north to franklin (winter harbor, victoria land, and goose fiord), and grinnell land (fort conger). east to greenland (floeberg beach, cape sheridan, north star bay, tuctoo valley, bowdoin bay, and disco bay). south to southwestern greenland (disco bay) and southern franklin (igloolik, winter island, and cambridge bay). west to franklin (cambridge bay and winter harbor). birds breeding in northeast greenland may be the european form. it has also been detected in summer in alaska at point barrow, point hope, st. michael, and other localities, where it may possibly breed. _winter range._--not well known but in the western hemisphere, seemingly most of south america, from patagonia (tierra del fuego) and argentina (barracus al sud and cape san antonio) on the south, peru (santa luzia and probably tumbez) on the west, brazil (iguape) on the east, to possibly jamaica, barbados, rarely louisiana (vermilion bay), and florida (st. marks). _spring migration._--early dates of spring arrival on the atlantic coast are: south carolina, frogmore, april 8, and egg bank, april 16; north carolina, pea and brodie islands, april 18; virginia, locustville, april 10; new jersey, absecon bay, april 21; new york, long beach, long island, april 29, and canandaigua lake, may 23; connecticut, norwalk, may 24, fairfield, may 29, and westport, may 30; massachusetts, tuckernuck island, may 11, franklin, igloolik, june 14; and greenland, jacobshaven, june 3, and cape union, june 5. on the pacific coast, early dates are: california, alameda, april 25; washington, destruction island light, may 6, and willapa harbor, may 11 [once at dungeness, on february 25, 1915 (cantwell)]; british colombia, fort simpson, may 13; and alaska, nulato, may 10, craig, may 13, admiralty island, may 14, st. michael, may 29, and point barrow, may 30. late dates of spring departure are: south carolina, near charleston, june 5; virginia, cape charles, june 10, cobb island, june 25, and wallop's island, june 27; new jersey, cape may county, june 3, and elizabeth, june 11; new york, amityville, may 31, and geneva, june 8; and massachusetts, cape cod, june 13, harvard, june 19, marthas vineyard, june 24, and monomoy island, june 28. _fall migration._--early dates of arrival in fall migration are: washington, lake oxette, july 12; california, alameda, august 1, monterey, august 7, and santa barbara, august 21; massachusetts, cape cod, july 15, marthas vineyard, july 24, dennis, july 27, and monomoy island, july 30; rhode island, newport, august 1; connecticut, saybrook, august 21; new york, east hampton, july 27, dutchess county, july 30, rockaway, august 12, montauk point light, august 14, and amityville, august 23; new jersey, tuckerton, july 3; virginia, wallops island, august 12; north carolina, pea and brodie islands, july 8; south carolina, near charleston, july 20; florida, marco, july 1, and lesser antilles, barbados, september 6. late dates of fall departure are: alaska, st. michael, august 14, point barrow, august 17, and homer, august 23; washington, grays harbor, november 2; california, anaheim landing, october 3, and san diego, october 9; greenland, discovery bay, august 25; franklin, winter island, august 17; prince edward island, alexandra, september 24; quebec, godbout, august 7, henley harbor, august 23, and old fort island, september 30; massachusetts, marthas vineyard, october 8, and monomoy island, october 28; rhode island, south auburn, september 3, and newport, september 14; connecticut, saybrook, september 25; new york, shinnecock bay, september 16, freeport, september 26, penn yan, october 15, and amityville, october 16; virginia, wallops island, september 29; north carolina, church's island, september 30; south carolina, near charleston, october 15; georgia, savannah, september 24; and lesser antilles, barbados, december 27. _casual records._--the knot has on numerous occasions been detected in the central or western states or other points outside of its normal range. among these are vera cruz, rivera, april 13, 1904; texas, corpus christi, july 1 to 10, 1887; kansas, hamilton, september 19, 1911, and lawrence, april 17, 1871; nebraska, omaha, september 30, 1893, and lincoln, may 16, 1896, and august 27, 1896; indiana, near millers, august 24, 1896; minnesota, lanesboro, september 7, 1885; and montana, lake bowdoin, october 4, 1915; ohio, sandusky river, spring of 1894, and licking reservoir, may 27, 1878; ontario (occasionally common in spring), point pelee, september 15, 1906, and may 30, 1907, and ottawa, june 4, 1890; michigan, port austin, september 4, 1899, benton harbor, june 23, 1904, forestville, june 20, 1903, charity island, september 1, 1910, and oak point, august 20-21, 1908; and alberta, beaverhill lake, may 19-23, 1924. _egg dates._--greenland: 3 records, june 22 and 30, and july 9. victoria land: 3 records, july 1, 9, and 22. grinnell land: 2 records, june 26 and 27. calidris tenuirostris (horsfield) eastern asiatic knot the only north american record for this little known asiatic species was established by alfred m. bailey (1925), when he captured a single specimen in northwestern alaska on may 28, 1922. he says: one specimen of this species, an adult male in light plumage, was taken at cape prince of wales on may 28. at this date the tundra was still covered with snow, but the higher benches of the cape were becoming bare. the first arrivals of many species were just making their appearance, using these high exposed spots as resting places. among these numerous migrants i took this one straggler. it was so tame i collected it with my .32 aux. it is larger than our knot and is also known as the japanese knot. seebohm (1888) says: it is the only _tringa_ with white on the upper tail coverts which has a straight bill more than an inch and a half long. in summer plumage it has no chestnut on the under parts, and the chestnut on the upper parts is principally confined to the scapulars. in winter plumage the two knots scarcely differ except in size. it is very closely allied to the common knot. the breeding grounds of the japanese knot are unknown, but middendorff observed it during the whole summer on the southern shores of the sea of okhotsk, though he obtained no evidence of its nesting there. it has occurred on migration in the valley of the ussuri, on the coasts of japan and china, and on most of the islands of the malay archipelago. it winters on the coast of australia, has occurred on the andaman islands, and in considerable numbers on the coast of scinde. arquatella maritima (brã¼nnich) purple sandpiper habits this hardy northern bird has well been called "winter snipe" and "rock snipe," for it is known to us only as a winter visitor on rocky shores. although it does not breed quite as far north as some species, it migrates for a shorter distance and winters farther north than any other wader; in fact, the southern limit of its winter range is far north of the normal winter range of any other. a. l. v. manniche (1910) saw only three purple sandpipers during three seasons in northeastern greenland, and the crockerland expedition saw only one in northwestern greenland in four years. both expeditions were probably north of its normal breeding range. _spring._--as soon as spring asserts itself the purple sandpipers begin to desert their main winter range on the coast of new england, some leaving in march and only a very few stragglers lingering into may. on may 29, 1909, we saw a few late migrants on the south coast of labrador, where i secured one in full nuptial plumage. ludwig kumlien (1879) says that the purple sandpiper is the first wader to arrive in the spring at cumberland sound. the 4th of june is the earliest date i met them at annanactook; this was during a heavy snowstorm, and the earliest date possible that they could have found any of the rocks bare at low tide. the flock lit on the top of one of the small islands in the harbor and sheltered themselves from the storm by creeping behind and underneath ledges of rocks; they then huddled together like a flock of quails in winter. i have often noticed the same habit with them in late autumn, while they were waiting for low tide. _courtship._--the same writer refers to a courtship performance, as follows: as the breeding season approaches the males have a peculiar cry, resembling somewhat that of _actiturus bartramius_, but lower and not so prolonged. when this note is uttered they assume a very dignified strut, and often raise the wings up over the back and slowly fold them again, like the upland plover. aubyn trevor-battye (1897) says: like all sandpipers, they do much of their courtship on the wing, chasing one another in circles with rapid turns and shifts. on the ground i have seen the male bird approach the female with trailing wings, arched back, and head low down, occasionally hopping, like a courting pigeon. this species seems to be rather rare in baffin land. i have two sets of eggs, given to me by capt. donald b. macmillan, collected with the parent bird at cape dorset. j. dewey soper collected a female there, with enlarged ovaries, on june 8; but he saw only three birds during "the spring and summer of 1926 along the south coast of baffin island." he says in his notes: the first sandpiper observed by me the following spring was of this species, a solitary male collected on june 2, 1925, at nettilling lake. the lakes were still ice-bound and the land mostly covered with snow, but here and there were small open pools. along the border of one of these the bird was feeding in the thin layer of thawed mud among the grassy hummocks. on june 11, in the same locality near the takuirbing river, several were observed and collected. when flushed they emit a grating _ick-ick-ick_ and when not too hard pressed will often light again a few yards away. they flush sluggishly, and when not come upon too abruptly will frequently elevate the wings leisurely above the back, as though stretching them before taking flight. on the whole, at this time, they were comparatively fearless and permitted close approach. only one was observed giving a vocal performance on the wing. it rose slowly from the ground to a height of 15 or 20 feet and leisurely flying over the tundra gave a series of low, musical staccato notes resembling _to-wit-to-wit-to-wit-to-wit_, etc. the performance continues unbrokenly while the bird remains in the air over a distance of 25 or 30 yards. _nesting._--rev. henry h. slater (1898) says: in the extreme north the nest is often quite close to the sea, little above high-water mark. but in iceland and at the southern borders of its breeding range generally the purple sandpiper usually nests on the fells. my first nest, from which i shot the female mentioned above, was near the top of a high ridge in north iceland, nearly 1,600 feet above sea level, on a small bare patch of recently uncovered ground amongst snow fields; it was a slight hollow in a withered tuft of _dryas octopetala_, and rather a substantial nest for a wader, consisting of a good handful of leaves of _dryas_ and _salix lanata_, a little short grass, two white ptarmigan's feathers and a few of the parents'. w. c. hewitson (1856) quotes mr. wolley as saying that in the faeroes, "it breeds sparingly on the very tops of high mountains, where i found its young at the end of june still unable to fly." messrs. e. evans and w. sturge (1859) found the purple sandpiper breeding in spitsbergen; they say: the purple sandpiper (_tringa maritina_, brã¼nn.) was very abundant in coal bay (on the south side of ice sound, so named on account of a small quantity of poor coal being found there), and we found four of their nests on the high field. beautiful little nests they were, deep in the ground, and lined with stalks of grass and leaves of the dwarf birch (_betula nana_, l.), containing mostly four eggs of an olive green, handsomely mottled with purplish brown, chiefly at the larger end. we watched this elegant little bird--the only one of the _grallatores_ we saw--with much interest as it waded into some pool of snow water or ran along the shingle, every now and then raising its wings over its back and exhibiting the delicate tint of the under side, at the same time uttering its loud shrill whistle. no recent accounts of the nesting habits of this species seem to have been published and the data on eggs in collections seem to be rather scanty. i have never found a nest myself. both sexes are said to incubate the eggs and share in the care of the young. the period of incubation is over 20 days. _eggs._--a very good description of the eggs is given by seebohm (1884) as follows: the eggs of the purple sandpiper are four in number and remarkably handsome. they vary in ground color from pale olive to pale buffish brown, boldly mottled, blotched, and streaked with reddish brown and very dark blackish brown. on some eggs the blotches are large, and chiefly distributed in an oblique direction round the large end; on others they are more evenly distributed over the entire surface; and on many a few very dark scratches, spots, or streaks are scattered here and there amongst the brown markings. the underlying markings are numerous and conspicuous, and are pale violet gray or grayish brown in color. frank poynting's (1895) colored plate of 12 selected eggs well illustrates the great variation in the beautiful eggs of this species. there are two distinct types of ground color, green and buff. in the green types the colors vary from "yellowish glaucous" to a light shade of "grape green"; and in the buff types from "cream buff" to "dark olive buff." they are sometimes evenly, but more often irregularly, spotted and blotched with various shades of brown, "sepia," "bister," and "snuff brown," sometimes boldly marked with "chocolate" and "burnt umber" and sometimes with great splashes of "vinaceous brown" overlaid with blotches of "chestnut brown" and "bay," a handsome combination. the measurements of 100 eggs, supplied by rev. f. c. r. jourdain, average 37.3 by 26.5 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =40= by =28=, =35.1= by 26.6 and 37.3 by =24.8= millimeters. _plumages._--the nestling is described in witherby's handbook (1920) as follows: fore part of crown warm buff; black-brown median line from base of upper mandible to crown; crown and upper parts velvety black-brown, down with numerous cream and warm buff tips; nape light buff, down with sooty-brown bases; from base of upper mandible above eye to nape a black-brown streak, another short one from base of lower mandible, ear coverts as crown; cheeks warm or light buff, down with black-brown tips; remaining under parts grayish white, down sooty brown toward base. the juvenal plumage is much like that of the summer adult, except that the feathers of the crown are tipped with creamy white, as are also the central tail feathers; the feathers of the mantle and scapulars are edged with buffy white; and the wing coverts and tertials are broadly edged with the same color or tipped with pale pinkish buff. the juvenal body plumage is usually molted before the birds reach us on migration, when young birds, in first winter plumage, can be recognized by the broad white edgings of the median coverts and by a few retained scapulars and tertials. some of these juvenal feathers are retained through the next, the partial prenuptial molt. subsequent molts and plumages are as in the adult. adults have a complete postnuptial molt between august and november and a partial prenuptial molt from january to may; this latter involves most of the body plumage, but not all of the scapulars, back, rump, or upper tail coverts. _food._--the favorite feeding places of purple sandpipers are the wave-washed rocky shores of islands or promontories along the seashore, with a decided preference for islands. here, where the rocks are fringed with rockweed, waving in the restless waves, or covered with barnacles and various slimy products of the sea, these sure-footed little birds are quite at home on the slippery rocks, as they glean abundant food at the water's edge and skillfully avoid being washed away. yarrell (1871) says that- it may be seen busily employed turning over stones and searching among seaweed for the smaller shrimps and sandhoppers which are to be found there, and it also feeds on young crabs, marine insects, and the soft bodies of animals inhabiting small shells. witherby's handbook (1920) gives its food as- varied, including insects: coleoptera (_otiorhynchus_), diptera (larvae of _chironomus_), also spiders, _thysanura_ (or _collembola_), annelida and crustacea (_amphipoda_, _isopoda_, _orchestia_, _idotea_, _gammarus_, and _podocerus_) as well as mollusca (_mytilus_, _littorina_, _purpura_, etc.). vegetable matter is also eaten including algae, grasses, moss, buds, and leaves of phanerogams and remains of cryptogams. seeds of _cochlearia_ have been identified and small fish (_gobius_) nearly 1 inch long, as well as ova of lumpsucker. _behavior._--the flight of the purple sandpiper suggests at times that of the spotted sandpiper, for when disturbed singly along the shore it is apt to fly out over the water with rapid downward wing strokes and, describing a large semicircle, return to the shore some distance ahead. when flying in a flock the birds are often closely bunched, the whole flock wheeling and turning in unison, showing alternately their dark bodies and their white bellies, in true sandpiper fashion. as a rule they do not make very long flights or fly very high. their migrations are short and deliberate. they are rather sedentary birds and can generally be found in certain favorite localities all winter and year after year. but, as they show a decided preference for the outer sides of surf-swept ledges, they are not often seen from the land. they can swim almost as well as phalaropes and in calm weather they will often alight on half submerged seaweed or on the surface of the water. dr. charles w. townsend (1905), who watched a flock on an island off cape ann, describes their actions as follows: they finally alighted on a steeply sloping rock close to the water's edge on the northeastern point of the island so that they could be watched with binoculars and telescope from the shore. fifty-eight birds were in sight and there were fully half as many more on the other side of the rock, hidden from view, except when they jumped up from time to time. the flock must have numbered 75. the tide was high and the birds were evidently trying to kill time until low water, when they could gather their food from the seaweed covered rocks. most of them were resting, squatting on the rock with head to the wind, their dark purplish-gray backs contrasting strongly with their white bellies. others were slowly raising their wings over their backs, showing the white under surfaces. again they were chasing each other, making the sleepy ones jump suddenly, or running up the rock to escape an unusually high wave, fluttering with their wings to help themselves. from time to time they were joined by bunches of from 5 to 10 others. _voice._--this species is a rather silent bird, but john t. nichols says in his notes: "when about to take wing a flock of purple sandpipers is rather noisy, keeping up a swallowlike chatter, each single-syllabled note suggestive of the _flip_ of the tree swallow and of the _kip_ of the sanderling." _field marks._--a sandpiper seen on a rocky shore in new england in winter is likely to be a purple sandpiper. mr. nichols suggests the following field characters: the purple sandpiper is a stockily built bird, which stands low and has a moderately long bill. its breast and upper parts of a dark purplish gray match admirably the rocks on which it lives, and although darker are not very different in tone from the coloring of the red-backed sandpiper in fall, with which species it might possibly be confused. both have a white line in the wing shown in flight, but in the purple sandpiper this broadens to a more conspicuous wedge of white backward on the inner secondaries and extends across the bases of the primaries as narrow edging to their coverts, rather than turning the bend of the wing into the primaries. the best field character is the color of legs and feet, which are of a dull but strong yellow, appreciable at a considerable distance. the basal third of the bill is of the same, but tinged with orange. _fall._--the fall migration of the purple sandpiper is a gradual southward movement along the atlantic coast. it disappears from its breeding grounds early in september, but the main flight does not reach new england until november or december. what few stragglers have been seen on the great lakes were probably migrants from hudson bay. e. w. hadeler writes to me that he observed one on the shore of lake erie, painesville, ohio, from october 22 to november 12, 1916, and again from october 24 to november 11, 1922. it is interesting to note the uniformity of the dates and the fact that the species was seen always on a stone breakwater, apparently feeding exclusively on the water-washed stones. _winter._--the purple sandpiper is the "winter snipe" of the new england coast, where flocks of from 25 to 75 or more may be found regularly on certain outlying rocky ledges. here they seek shelter among the rocks from the flying spray and from the wintry blasts; and here they find their food washed up by the waves or hidden in the half floating beds of rockweed. on december 10, 1913, while we were shooting eiders on one of the outer ledges in jericho bay, maine, a flock of about 50 of these hardy little birds seemed out of place in our rough surroundings. it was a cold, blustering day; the surf was breaking over the rocks and the sea was white with combing breakers; even the hardy sea ducks sought the shelter of the ledges; but these plump little birds seemed quite happy and contented as they huddled together in a compact flock on the slippery rocks. they were very tame and confiding; even the reports of our guns served only to make them circle out around the ledge a few times and then return to its shelter. evidently this was their winter home. we did not have the heart to shoot any of them. mr. nichols tells me that "very occasionally in winter, early spring or late fall, one finds single birds on the sandy beaches of new york or new jersey south of the rocks." distribution _range._--europe, asia, and northeastern north america. _breeding range._--in the old world the purple sandpiper breeds in the arctic regions from iceland, norway, and spitsbergen east to nova zembla and the taimyr peninsula. in north america the breeding range extends north to franklin (igloolik); and greenland (hare island, and shannon islands). east to greenland (shannon islands and ivimiut). south to greenland (ivimiut and ivigtut); and franklin (southern baffin island, cumberland sound, and winter island). west to franklin (winter island and igloolik). it has been detected in summer still farther north; franklin (mercy bay, fury point, boothia felix, and possession bay); and greenland (bowdoin bay, thank god harbor, north star bay, and fort conger). _winter range._--the purple sandpiper winters farther north than any other shore bird. north and east to southern greenland (ivigtut); eastern nova scotia (st. peter's island); massachusetts (rockport, westport, and boston); rhode island (cormorant rock); connecticut (saybrook and faulkner island); and rarely new york (gull island, montauk, and amityville). south to new york (amityville). west to new york (amityville); connecticut (new haven); maine (cumberland county, matinicus island, and washington county); new brunswick (grand manan and the bay of fundy); prince edward island; and southern greenland (ivigtut). _spring migration._--early dates of spring arrival are: franklin, annanactook, june 4, winter island, june 10, cambridge bay, june 10, and igloolik, june 14; greenland, about 72â° north latitude, may 29; and baffin island, cape dorset, may 30. late dates of spring departure are: new york, sag harbor, april 18, and long beach, may 4, rhode island, sachuest point, may 15; massachusetts, dennis, may 5; and quebec, prince of wales sound, may 27, quatachoo, may 29, and mingan islands, may 29. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrival are quebec, bras d'or, august 4; new brunswick, grand manan, august 13; ontario, toronto, october 27, ottawa, october 29, and hamilton, october 31; maine, metinic green island, august 6, saddleback ledge, august 19; massachusetts, cape cod, september 6, chatham, september 8, and nahant, october 13; rhode island, sachuest point, september 13; and new york, montauk, november 1, orient, november 1, and long beach, november 2. late dates of fall departure are: greenland, possession bay, september 1, and thank god harbor, september 3; mackenzie, great bear lake, september 16; and franklin, wellington channel, august 28, kingwah fjord, september 6, cumberland gulf, september 13, and pangnirtung fjord, october 21. _casual records._--the purple sandpiper has been reported as seen at the entrance to st. george harbor, bermuda, and there are a few records for the south atlantic coast and the interior, among which are: new jersey, delaware bay (specimen in british museum), beach haven, october 31, 1896, and one found dead at the absecon lighthouse; georgia, one in the sennett collection taken, march 5, 1874; florida, key biscayne, october 29, 1857, and gordan's pass, november 1, 1886; missouri, boonville, between april 16 and may 31, 1854; illinois, near chicago, november 7, 1871; ohio, sandusky, november 19, 1925, and painesville, october 22, 1916, and october 24, 1922; and wisconsin, door county, may, 1881. _egg dates._--greenland: 18 records, may 16 to june 30; 9 records, june 1 to 19. iceland: 6 records, may 21 to june 17. baffin island; 2 records, july 21 and 28. arquatella ptilocnemis ptilocnemis (coues) pribilof sandpiper habits as explained under the aleutian sandpiper, this bird is probably not a subspecies of the purple sandpiper; so the name _maritima_ can not be used for either _ptilocnemis_ or _couesi_. i have therefore thought it best to follow ridgway (1919) in the use of his names for the pribilof and aleutian sandpipers, rather than use the check list names. the pribilof sandpiper has the most restricted distribution of any north american sandpiper. in summer it is confined to the chilly and foggy uplands of the pribilof islands, the equally cool, damp lowlands of st. matthew island, hall island, and perhaps st. lawrence island, all in bering sea. and its known migration range is limited to a few localities on the mainland of alaska and in the aleutian islands, where it probably winters. it may breed more extensively on st. lawrence island than it is now known to do, but it has not yet been found breeding anywhere on the mainland. g. dallas hanna (1921) says: i strongly suspect that the birds have some other extensive breeding ground than st. george, st. paul, and st. matthew islands, because in september and october large flocks come to the two former islands; these appear to contain many more individuals than are in existence on all three. whether st. lawrence island supplies the extra number or not remains for future determination. the winter range of the species is practically unknown, the only records being from portage bay, southeast alaska, and lynn canal, between alaska and british columbia. the appearance of the birds at the former locality in flocks in spring (if identifications were correct) indicates that they wintered farther south, probably on vancouver and other islands of british columbia. they could hardly have come from beyond these localities and have remained undiscovered. _spring._--the same writer says: spring migration takes place the latter part of april and the first half of may. my earliest record for st. paul island is april 15 (1915) when a flock appeared at northeast point. the height of migration is a little later than that date and may usually be expected from the 1st to the 15th of may. birds are almost invariably paired upon arrival. very few spring flocks have been seen on the pribilofs, and they do not tarry by the beaches, but go directly to the upland nesting sites. it seems to be uncommon for more than the resident population to land upon an island in spring. the birds seem to go directly to the chosen breeding grounds, wherever they may be. this fact is of wide application among the northern shore birds. only rare stragglers of such species as golden plovers, turnstones, and pectoral and sharp-tailed sandpipers stop at the pribilofs on their way north, but large numbers of some of them come in fall. _courtship._--dr. e. w. nelson (1887) writes: the male of the pair seen by me on st. lawrence island in june kept flying up some 10 or 15 yards, its wings beating with a rapid vibrating or tremulous motion, while the bird thus poised trilled forth a clear, rather musical and liquid but hard, whistling note, which is probably the same note which elliott likens to the trill of the tree frog. the short song ended, the musician glides to the ground upon stiffened wings and resumes his feeding or stands silently for a time on a projecting rock or knoll. _nesting._--we found pribilof sandpipers very common in july on the low tundra at the south end of st. matthew island, where they were evidently breeding just back of the beaches. they were also common in the interior at the north end of this island and on the highlands of hall island. we collected a few specimens of the birds, but had no time to hunt for nests. we are indebted to mr. hanna (1921) for his excellent account of the nesting habits of this bird, from which i quote as follows: on st. george island the high upland tundra has been chosen for breeding ground. here, among the reindeer "mosses" and light gray, lichen-covered rocks the sandpipers reign supreme in the fog. some speculating may be indulged in to find a reason for so unusual a choice of locality. elevations up to 500 feet are sought. perhaps they shun the seacoasts on account of the presence there of large numbers of foxes. during all history this has been a greater fox island than either st. paul or st. matthew. on the latter island in june and july the birds may be found in large numbers around and back of the driftwood piles. if it were not for this fact being known, we might suspect that on st. george the light gray tundra was selected for protective purposes, the birds themselves being distinguished chiefly by their light colors. st. paul island, for some unaccountable reason, is not chosen as a breeding ground except by a very few pairs. in 1919 not over a dozen were found during the entire nesting season, when almost all of the available areas were seen. on the breeding grounds of st. george and st. matthew the birds are very common, and from one to a dozen are in almost constant attendance upon the visitor. they sight him from afar and fly to meet him. some bird will almost always try to lead him astray. if followed, it flies from knoll to knoll, often not more than 20 yards away. it remains in front of the visitor regardless of the direction he may take; whether toward or from the nest, makes no difference. after several minutes of this a sudden flight, with the familiar "song," is taken to some distant hill and the searcher for a nest is left confused and confounded. a search for the nest will exhaust the patience of any except the most persistent collector. messrs. compton and partch have been more successful than anyone else in locating them, and all of us agree that when a bird flies to meet the visitor, as just described, it is a pure waste of time to watch or follow it. every method known to us of locating nests by watching the actions of the parents has failed. we have located nests and then endeavored to establish rules for guidance with others, but no definite facts could be determined. it was finally agreed that it was useless to watch a bird under any circumstances more than 15 minutes. if the location of the nest is not disclosed in that time, it is safe to assume that the mate is on it, and it might be hours before the guard would go there. in the meantime it may fly half a mile away and forget to come back, even to tease the hopeful collector lying concealed in the mist and fog behind some cheerless rock. no definite range can be ascribed to any one pair of birds, because those off the nests mingle indiscriminately. very often a bird will fly completely out of the range of vision in the fog. the action of a bird leaving a nest is unmistakable, and can always be recognized, once it is learned. it is a quick, excited, jerky flight, very close to the ground, and the bird goes but a very few yards until it feigns injury in its endeavor to entice the intruder away. it will always flutter in front of a person, even though he walk directly toward the nest. when the bird is seen to fly, the eggs are even more inconspicuous and difficult to find unless the exact spot from which it flew be located. compton thus flushed a bird which he knew had a nest, but he was at a loss to find it. at last he left his cane as nearly as possible where the nest should have been and repaired to a near-by rock to watch and wait. in a few minutes the bird returned to the eggs, which were located about a yard from the stick. when the bird is flushed from a nest it seldom happens that the other parent is near. the nest is a mere depression about three and a half inches wide by two and a half inches deep. most of the material is removed, but it is evidently packed down to a certain extent. no foreign material is carried at all. the nest is usually, but not necessarily, on some very slightly elevated ground and among the lichens called "reindeer moss." some nests have been found where there was an admixture of _hypnum_ moss and again where the dwarf willows creep, rootlike, beneath the surface. _eggs._--i can not do better than to quote again from mr. hanna (1921); he writes: the normal set of eggs consists of four. a greater number has never been found, and a less number only when it was uncertain if the full set had been laid. as much as three days may intervene between egg laying, but usually the four are deposited on successive days. when one set of eggs is taken, another will be laid. but the same nest is not used the second time, the contentions of some natives to the contrary notwithstanding. a set of eggs found as late as july 24, 1917, certainly indicated that two may be laid in the same season on rare occasions. one set is the rule. the color of the eggs is, as would be expected, somewhat variable. the lightest set examined in connection with this report has the ground color "greenish glaucous." from this there is perfect gradation through "court gray" and "light olive gray" to "deep olive buff" in the darkest set. variation in any particular set is very slight. spots are large and bold as a rule. they vary in size from 15 millimeters to less than one, and they are usually massed about the larger end. in one case the eggs are uniformly spotted with small spots all over. in none is the spotting heaviest on the smaller end (reversed eggs). spots are usually inclined to be round, but occasionally they are in the form of streaks arranged roughly in spiral form. only rarely are they banded about the larger end. in two cases a narrow black line was produced spirally on the larger end. the coloration of the spots varies from "snuff brown" to "sepia" and from "cinnamon brown" to "mummy brown." in some cases they are "raw umber." the darkest shades occur where the spots overlap and some deep-seated ones are "pale aniline lilac" or "pale" to "deep quaker drab." only rarely is the outline of a spot not sharp. the average dimensions derived from the above series of 72 eggs are: length, 39.473 and breadth 27.468. those which showed the extreme measurements were =42.0= by 27.8; =35= by 27.4; 37.6 by =39=, and 39.1 by =26.4.= _young._--the period of incubation is said to be about 20 days, in which both sexes share. william palmer (1899) says: the young leave the nest soon after hatching and are thoroughly well concealed by their mimicry of the confusing mixture of mosses, lichens, and other forms of vegetation which abounds and are so well intermingled on these islands. it requires much patience and a close scrutiny to detect a crouching young, even when it is directly within reach. obedient to their mother's cries they flatten themselves with head and neck extended; with each yard of the ground precisely similar in pattern and color with every other yard, and the parents, especially the female, trying their best to coax us in other directions, and the uncertainty as to the exact location of the young, all combine against the collector, so that few specimens reward a tramp that seems exasperatingly needless. the young will not move, though one stands with the foot touching them, but when once handled and released they scamper off with all the quickness their long legs can give them. when we invade the vicinity of a nest or young it is amusing to watch the antics of the female. she invariably flies in front and flutters with feigned lameness but a few feet away. if the ground is rough it is more amusing to watch the precipitancy of her flight until she disappears in a hollow, to reappear in a moment on the other side, cautiously turning round and eying us to see if we are following. she always keeps in front of us, no matter which way we turn, and will continue thus for several hundred yards, when she will suddenly fly off to some distance and after waiting awhile will return to the vicinity of the nest or young. mr. hanna (1921) writes: so far as known, the food of both old and young consists of beetles and flies while the birds remain on the highlands; when they move to the ponds and seashores they eat copepods, amphipods, etc. as soon as the young birds are well able to fly they resort to the tide pools and small ponds near the sea. later the older birds join them and the flocks increase in size to several hundred in favorable places. this takes place in august and september in such localities as the salt lagoon of st. paul island. _plumages._--the color pattern of the downy young pribilof sandpiper is similar to that of the aleutian, but the colors are different, much duller. the bright browns and buffs of the upper parts are replaced by "burnt umber," "snuff brown," "clay color," and "cinnamon buff," and the black markings are largely replaced by dark browns; the black patch in the center of the back is about as in the aleutian. the under parts are less pure white, always suffused with pale buff on the throat and flanks and sometimes largely so on the breast also. mr. palmer's (1899) studies of the molts and plumages indicate that they are similar to those of the aleutian sandpiper; he writes: the downy young are beautiful little things, silvery white beneath, bright, rich ocherous above, variegated with black and dots of white. the general color above lacks the grayness of the similar age of _maritimus_. the white dots are interesting under the microscope. they are composed of a bunch of highly specialized down, in which the radii near the tip are crowded and colorless. as they grow older the first feathers appear on the sides of the breast, on the back and scapulars; then the primaries and larger wing coverts appear. the feathering continues until the breast and under parts are covered, when the tail appears. at this time there are no feathers on the rump or on the head or neck. in the next stage feathers have appeared on the occiput and on the auriculars and are also extending up the neck. at the same time the tips of the back feathers have become somewhat worn, so that the colored margins are narrower and the black more prominent. the wing coverts are also to some extent worn on their tips. when the bill is an inch long the down has nearly all disappeared, and when it has entirely gone the birds appear in small flocks on the beaches, the young generally keeping together. then another change takes place, for the entire plumage now gives way to another, that in which the bird passes the winter. a few late july, immature birds show the beginning, for no. 118832, im. [male], july 29, has a few new feathers on the middle of the back and on the scapulars. they soon extend all over the back, so that specimens collected up to august 10 have many of the new whitish feathers on that region. the contrast is striking between these feathers, the latest being of an almost even shade of pale plumbean with darker centers and generally with a narrow white margin. there are no specimens to show the complete change, but it is probable that these young birds remain on the islands until it is completed. by the middle of june the adults have fully changed to the breeding plumage, but on some specimens a few feathers of the previous winter's plumage persist much later. thus on many specimens some alternate feathers of the scapulars and tertials are of the previous winter's well-worn plumage. in fact, few specimens are free from these old feathers. soon after the middle of july the new plumage of the next winter begins to appear. at first a few feathers show about the breast, then on the scapulars, thence up the neck and over the head, so that by the 10th of august they have changed one-half. it would thus appear that before this species leaves the islands they assume entirely their new dress. and at this season, august 10, old and young flock together for the first time, and confine themselves to the sand beaches and surf margins about the islands for a few weeks, when they take flight by the 1st or 5th of september, and disappear until the opening of the new season. the pribilof sandpiper is much paler in the juvenal plumage and grayer in the winter plumage than the aleutian. _food._--preble and mcatee (1923) report on the contents of 192 stomachs, as follows: the articles of food composing more than 1 per cent of the total were: mollusks, 32.63 per cent; crustaceans, 29.15 per cent; flies (diptera), 23.49 per cent; beetles, 10.29 per cent; marine worms, 1.27 per cent; and vegetable matter, chiefly algae, 1.21 per cent. the vegetable matter, besides algae, included bits of moss and a few seeds of grass, lupine, violet, crowberry, and bottle brush. _behavior._--referring to the habits of pribilof sandpipers, mr. palmer (1899) says: they appear stupid when solitary and without a family, and will stand perfectly still, eying one from a little eminence. occasionally we are startled by a loud _druuett_ from the side of a sand dune, and i was at a loss for some time to discover the owner of this most unmusical sound, which finally turned out to be an individual of this species standing motionless and watching us. it would seem impossible for this sound to have issued from this bird if i had not seen it in the act. these sandpipers have the habit in common with others of their kind of suddenly elevating the wing directly over the back. often when alighting on the tundra, as soon as they stopped up went one wing, followed soon after, perhaps, by the other. often while watching a flock on the lagoon beach first one would elevate a wing, then another; it was always the near wing which went up first. i never saw a bird elevate the off wing first. i know of no reason for their doing so. they are tame. i have walked up to a flock of about 50, and with care could drive them before me for some distance before they took flight, being but a few feet away. they are often seen feeding in the water up to their breasts, and seem to take delight in it. they swim readily, but not often. on june 30 i saw one fly out to a stone in a pool, and after gathering all the food possible it deliberately swam to another, and having visited each stone in the same way flew back to the shore and then bathed itself, occasionally taking a swim. _voice._--mr. hanna (1921) describes the notes of this bird as follows: if a person climbs to the sandpiper country on st. george during may or june one of his first surprises will be a series of notes very much like those of the flicker, a full deep whistle repeated in the same pitch about a dozen times in quick succession. the bird utters this while on the wing, most likely when it is coming toward the intruder with great speed. when close by it wheels and settles lightly on a near-by hummock or "niggerhead." one wing will be held vertically extended for a few seconds after alighting and may be flashed at short intervals thereafter. another note for which i have no descriptive language always reminded me of the sound of tree frogs. it is the note usually given when the birds are on the ground. while neither can be called a song they are very attractive and pleasant to the listener and most surprising to one familiar with the "peep peep" of sandpipers in winter. _field marks._--in winter the pribilof sandpiper looks much like the purple sandpiper; it frequents similar haunts and has much the same habits. but its summer plumage, with its rufous upper parts and mottled under parts, is strikingly different. it resembles the aleutian sandpiper in all plumages, but it is decidedly larger and, in summer, its upper parts are lighter rufous and there is more white in the under parts. _fall._--according to preble and mcatee (1923): about the middle of july, when the nesting birds are freed from family cares, they begin to resort to the beaches to feed, and at night gather in flocks to roost on some favorite rocky point. later the young join the adults and the flocks increase in size through august. about august 9 the birds began to be common about the beaches, the flocks there apparently being in excess of the number breeding on the islands, and in all probability, therefore, comprised in part of migrants from other breeding stations. they continued to be abundant until my departure on the last of august. the pribilof sandpiper is too rare and beautiful to be treated as a game bird, but mr. hanna (1921) writes: the birds possess some economic importance to the natives of the pribilofs, and they have occasionally been eaten in the officers' messes. their habit of congregating in fairly compact flocks and their fearless unassuming nature make them easy targets. for this reason close watch should be kept of the numbers returning annually, and should any noticeable diminution take place strict prohibitive measures can and should be invoked. this is possible because the islands are under strict governmental control as regards all wild life. because of its limited range it would not be a difficult matter to completely exterminate the species. special protective measures at this time, however, are not believed to be essential because there is even less hunting now than there has been for fifty or more years. the introduction of livestock and reindeer for fresh food removes in large measure the necessity for shooting, and the native is ordinarily too indolent to hunt unless he has to do so for food. distribution _range._--known only from the islands in bering sea and the coast of alaska. _breeding range._--the pribilof sandpiper breeds on the pribilof islands (st. paul and st. george islands) and north in bering sea to st. matthew island, hall island, and st. lawrence island. _winter range._--the winter range is imperfectly known, but it has been taken in this season at portage bay, alaska, and probably occupies much of the alaskan coast southeastward to (rarely) the lynn canal. _migration._--they have been noted in spring to arrive at st. paul island march 5; nushagak, alaska, april 1 to 14; st. george island april 23; at st. paul island april 24; and point dall, alaska, may 23. late departures in the fall have been observed at st. george island, october 3; and st. paul island november 16. early fall arrivals have been noted on the alaskan coast at igiak bay, july 23; tigalda island, august 5; unimak, august 14; and dexter, norton sound, august 29. _egg dates._--pribilof island: 32 records, may 6 to july 2; 16 records, may 30 to june 11. arquatella ptilocnemis couesi (ridgway) aleutian sandpiper habits i prefer the above scientific name to the check list name, because i can not believe that the aleutian sandpiper is a subspecies of the purple sandpiper. the aleutian sandpiper was originally described by robert ridgway (1880) as a distinct species. later it was treated, and still stands on our check list, as a subspecies of the purple sandpiper, because it somewhat resembles it in its winter plumage. in mr. ridgway's (1919) latest work, he treats it as a subspecies of the pribilof sandpiper, a closely related form, which had been previously described; he there describes it as "similar to _a. p. ptilocnemis_ but decidedly smaller and much darker in color; the summer plumage with blackish and rusty or cinnamon-rufous predominating on back and scapulars, and all the colors much darker and more extended. very similar in winter plumage to _a. maritima_, but summer plumage and young very different, both being conspicuously marked with rusty on back and scapulars, and the summer plumage with breast conspicuously blotched or clouded with dusky." among a series of 11 birds of this species, which we collected on attu island, at the extreme western end of the aleutian chain, on june 23, 1911, are two birds which closely resemble _ptilocnemis_ in color, but in size are typical of _couesi_. at least one of them was a breeding bird, the parent of a brood of downy young, and doubtless both of them were summer resident birds. dr. ernst hartert (1920) has described the resident bird of the commander islands as a distinct subspecies, under the name _erolia maritima quarta_, of which he says: "in full summer plumage the feather-edgings are broader than in any other form and brighter, more rusty red, so that the rusty red seems to predominate on the whole of the upper parts." this description seems to fit our two birds from attu island very well; so that, if _quarta_ is a recognizable form, as it seems to be, this subspecies should be added to our north american list. the birds could easily fly across from the commander islands to attu island and establish themselves there. _spring._--the spring migration of this sandpiper is not extensive. many birds have remained all winter on or near their breeding grounds in the aleutian islands; others have wintered along the coast as far south as washington. d. e. brown tells me that they remain on destruction island until may 1 and that they have been seen on forrester island as late as june 15. h. s. swarth (1911) found them "very abundant" on kuiu island during his stay there from april 25 to may 6; he writes: in company with the black turnstone and some other waders, they frequented the broad mud flats, which, at low tide, extend over hundreds of acres at this point. as the tide advanced their feeding grounds became more and more restricted, until, as the last available spot was covered, the whole flock departed, with roar of wings, to some jutting rocks at the mouth of the bay, there to remain, preening their plumage and resting, until the receding waters again exposed the mud banks. the flocks seen at this place comprised many hundred individuals, and it is curious that the species was observed absolutely nowhere else. herbert w. brandt says in his notes from hooper bay: the aleutian sandpiper is a common transient visitor in the vicinity of point dall and is said by the natives to be a breeding bird in the mountain fastnesses of cape romanzoff. this species was first identified by us on may 18, but it may have arrived a few days earlier because up to that time we did not suspect its presence. it associated itself with the red-backed sandpiper, to which in the field it has a marked superficial resemblance and in consequence we may have overlooked it. these birds at that time travelled in bands of from 20 to 40 individuals and at low tide fed on the ice-bound sea beach that was then exposed, but when the high water came in and up to the wall of shore ice, thus covering their feeding grounds, they moved back along the open river margins and marshy pond borders. from may 23 to may 28 they were very common, when suddenly they departed, only to reappear in early july. the natives are very positive in their assertions that this island dweller breeds in the rugged mountains about cape romanzoff, but as we did not visit that area we could not authenticate their statements, nor did we learn anything of its nidification. lucien m. turner (1886) writes: the aleutian sandpiper arrives at st. michaels early in may of each year, and in considerable numbers, being generally, on their arrival, in the dark plumage, which is changed for the summer by the first of june on this locality. on their appearance they are strictly littoral-maritime, resorting to the larger bowlders and rocky shelves covered with seaweed, among which these birds industriously search for slugs and other marine worms. usually several birds are together, rarely singly, and seldom over 8 or 10 in a flock. dr. leonhard stejneger (1885) says that, in the commander islands: in march their ranks are reinforced by newcomers which have wintered on more hospitable shores, and in the latter part of the month enormous flocks of 500 or more swarm along the beach, especially on the north shore. about one month later the great flocks dissolve into small companies, which, following the water courses, disperse over the whole island, settling in pairs on suitable places at the beaches, on the tundras, or on the mountain plateaus, this bird being in fact one of the most numerous and the most equally distributed species of land birds on the islands. _courtship._--we frequently observed the charming song flight of this sandpiper in the aleutian islands. the birds were especially abundant on tanaga island, where we found them nesting on the little knolls or hummocks on the tundra in a large alluvial plain back of the beach hillocks. the males were very active and noisy, indulging in their hovering song flights, rising 30 or 40 feet in the air and fluttering down while pouring out a delightful twittering song. also, while flying about or while standing on some prominent hummock, they gave their loud, musical melodious calls of the upland plover; these loud notes were not heard anywhere except on their breeding grounds and were probably notes of greeting or of warning to their mates. doctor stejneger (1885) writes: it was in the late afternoon of the 28th of april, 1883, that i first witnessed this singing performance of the sandpiper. the bird rose from the _rhododendron_ tundra on the northern slope of kamennij valley, and while flying about on quivering wings, sometimes remaining quite still in the air, it uttered a loud, agreeable, and melodious twitter, which really must be called a "song," whereupon, with outstretched wings, it descended obliquely, seating itself upon the top of a tussock. sitting there, with puffed plumage and pendant wings, it produced a loud "bleating," so much like that of _gallinago gallinago_ as to completely convince me that the analogous note of the latter is produced by the throat in exactly the same manner. during the "bleating" the whole bird was quivering with a tremulous motion as if in a high state of excitement. the voice was slightly more melodious than that of the snipe. _nesting._--while wandering over the foothills of kiska island on june 17, 1911, i found my first nest of the aleutian sandpiper. i was crossing a flat place, high up on a hill, covered with moss and scanty growth of grass, when the bird fluttered off almost underfoot, feigning lameness. the nest was a deep hollow in the moss, 3 inches in diameter and fully 2 inches deep, partially concealed by a few blades of scanty grass, and lined with dead leaves, a few straws, and a few feathers of the bird. the four eggs were only slightly incubated. i found a similar nest, containing three small, downy young, on attu island on june 23; the nest was on a little hummock on a hillside, a deep hollow, lined with dead leaves and bits of straw. it was the male bird that flew from the nest in both cases. austin h. clark (1910) found a nest on attu island on the side of a mountain, 700 feet or more above the valley and near an extensive patch of snow. alfred m. bailey (1925) found a nest at emma harbor, siberia, on july 4, 1921, containing three young and an egg; the nest was "on the shores of the bay, in gravel along the beach." he also found several nests the following season near wales, alaska; "the nesting sites varied from exposed depressions in the moss to well-concealed dried grass." a set of eggs in edward arnold's collection, taken by sheldon and lamont on montague island, alaska, june 22, 1916, came from a nest "on dã©bris just above tidewater." _eggs._--the aleutian sandpiper almost invariably lays four eggs, although five have been found. these are ovate pyriform in shape and have a slight gloss. the ground color is "olive buff" or "deep olive buff." they are heavily, boldly, and irregularly blotched, chiefly about the larger end, with a few scattering smaller spots. the markings are in dark browns, "chestnut brown," "burnt umber," and "seal brown," varying with the thickness of the pigment. there are underlying blotches of "brownish drab," producing very handsome eggs. they can not always be distinguished with certainty from eggs of the pribilof sandpiper, as they vary greatly in size; they average smaller, but the measurements overlap widely. the measurements of 50 eggs average 38 by 26.6 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =43.2= by 26.8, 39.4 by =28=, =35= by 26.3, and 37.3 by =24.1= millimeters. _young._--incubation is apparently performed by both sexes, and both assist in the care of the young. the birds that i flushed from my two nests, one with eggs and one with young, both proved to be males. mr. turner (1886) says: the males are much devoted to their mates while incubating, and i have every reason to believe that the male does the greater part of the labor of incubating, as they were the ones generally found either on or near the nests. when alighting near the nest either sex has the habit of raising its wings perpendicularly and slowly folding them, all the while uttering a trilling peep, continued for several seconds. the parents are very devoted to their young, employing the usual tactics to divert the attention of the intruder, stumbling and fluttering over the ground, as if both legs and wings were broken. the young leave the nest as soon as they are strong enough to run, but remain with their parents until they are fully fledged in their first winter or juvenal plumage and ready to fly in august. _plumages._--the downy young aleutian resembles, in color pattern, the young purple sandpiper, but can easily be recognized by its warmer and richer browns. the upper half of the head is "warm buff," shading off to "pale buff" on the lores and cheeks and to pure white on the throat and neck. a median black stripe is broad on the crown, tapering to a point at the bill; loral and malar black stripes converge at the bill; the rest of the upper head is spotted or striped with black. the nape is a mixture of dull buff and dusky. the back, wings, and thighs are variegated with black, "ochraceous tawny" and "warm buff," everywhere sprinkled with conspicuous dots, terminal tufts, of buffy white in an irregular pattern; there is a more or less well-defined black patch in the center of the back, varying in different individuals, centrally veiled with "burnt sienna" tips. the entire under parts are pure white. in the juvenal plumage the center of the crown is blackish brown, with "ochraceous tawny" edgings; the rest of the crown and nape are "deep mouse gray"; the feathers of the back are brownish black, broadly edged with "tawny" or "ochraceous tawny"; the scapulars and all the wing coverts are deep sepia, broadly edged with colors varying from "tawny" to buffy white, whitest on the coverts; the under parts are white, with a broad band of pale buff across the throat and breast; the flanks are somewhat tinged with the same color; the throat, breast, and flanks are more or less heavily marked with median dusky streaks. this plumage is worn through july and part, or all, of august. the postjuvenal molt of the body plumage begins in some birds about the 1st of august, but in others not until two or three weeks later. this produces a first winter plumage similar to that of the adult, but distinguishable by the faded juvenal wing coverts and a few retained scapulars and tertials. the partial prenuptial molt of both young birds and adults comes rather late in the spring, april and may, and involves the body plumage and some of the wing coverts and scapulars. adults also have a complete postnuptial molt, beginning in august and lasting until october. the winter plumage is similar to that of the purple sandpiper, but it is conspicuously marked on the breast and flanks with large triangular or circular spots of dusky, whereas the purple sandpiper usually has a plain gray breast in winter. _food._--very little seems to be known about the food of the aleutian sandpiper, but probably its diet is very similar to that of the purple sandpiper, which has similar feeding habits. both species are fond of frequenting rocky shores and stony beaches, where they seem to be gleaning food. doctor stejneger (1885) has seen them "at low water eagerly picking up gammarids among the stones close to the breakers." bernard j. bretherton (1896) writes: large flocks of these birds were seen during february, 1893, but were not met with during other winters. they were met with on a low sand bar, after a protracted storm which had thrown up millions of sand fleas, upon which they were feeding so industriously as to be easily approached and to which feast they returned several times, even after their ranks had been thinned by raking charges of fine shot. _behavior._--in many ways the aleutian sandpiper reminds one of its near relative, the purple sandpiper, but it is even tamer, less suspicious, and quieter in its movements. we had plenty of chances to get acquainted with it in the aleutian islands. we met it, and collected the first specimen of it, on the first island that we landed on, akun island, and after that we saw it on every island we visited, though it was much more abundant on the more western islands. these bleak islands, with their forbidding, rocky shores and stony beaches, washed with cold spray or enveloped in chilly fog, are the summer home of this hardy little "beach snipe," as it is called by the natives. it moves about so quietly and deliberately, and its colors match its surroundings so well, that we were constantly coming upon it unexpectedly. it was usually so intent on feeding that it paid no attention to passers-by; it was often necessary to back off to a reasonable distance before shooting one, and i shot several with squib charges in an auxiliary barrel. it is the tamest and most unsuspicious shore bird i have ever seen. on this point mr. turner (1886) says: it is not at all shy, depending more on its color to hide by squatting among the crevices of the dark lava rocks and thus be unobserved. when cautiously approached, these birds generally run to the highest part of the rock or bowlder which they are on, then huddle together before taking flight the moment after. this habit allows them to be nearly all killed at a single discharge of the gun. the native boys, having observed this habit of these birds, procure a club about two feet long, and when the birds huddle together before taking flight the club is hurled in such manner as to sweep all the birds off the rock. this manner of procuring these birds is practiced by the western aleut boys to a great degree. dr. e. w. nelson (1887) writes: a pair were found feeding on a series of bare, jagged rocks, over which the spray flew in a dense cloud as every wave beat at the foot of the rocky shore. i shot one of them, and the survivor merely flew up and stood eyeing me silently from the top of a low cliff 20 or 25 feet overhead until it, too, fell a victim. later in the day another was seen near the border of a small lake in the interior of the island. it ran nimbly on before me, over the mossy hillocks, stopping every few feet and half turning to watch my movements, just as a spotted sandpiper would do under the circumstances. when driven to take wing, it flew a short distance, with the same peculiar down-curved wings and style of flight as has the spotted sandpiper. hamilton m. laing (1925) says that "on one occasion one was seen to swim nimbly from one rock to another rather than fly." _voice._--except on its breeding grounds, we considered the aleutian sandpiper a very quiet and silent bird. its twittering flight song is a part of the nuptial ceremony, and it was only on its nesting grounds that we heard the loud, musical, flutelike, whistling notes so suggestive of the melodious calls of the upland plover. doctor nelson (1887) describes what may be the same notes, as follows: while on the wing it uttered a rather low but clear and musical _tweo-tweo-tweo_. when feeding it had a note something like a call of the _colaptes auratus_, and which may be represented by the syllables _clu-clu-clu_. mr. clark (1910) also says: the cry is loud and clear, bearing a striking resemblance to the call of the flicker. _field marks._--in winter the aleutian sandpiper might easily be mistaken for a purple sandpiper, which it closely resembles in appearance, haunts, and behavior, but the winter ranges of the two species are widely separated. from the pribilof sandpiper it differs in being decidedly smaller, and in summer it is much darker, with less rufous above and more black below. _fall._--the aleutian sandpiper withdraws in the fall from the northern portions of its breeding range in alaska and siberia, and it may be that the birds which breed farthest north are the ones which migrate farthest south to spend the winter, for the species is resident throughout the year in the aleutian islands. in the norton sound region it evidently occurs only as a migrant from northern alaska and siberia. doctor nelson (1887) says: early in august, however, i was pleased to find it abundant in parties of from five to thirty or forty about outlying islets and along rugged portions of the shore. during each of the four succeeding seasons the same experience was repeated, and the last of july or first of august i was certain to find the numbers of them in the situations mentioned, where earlier in the season not one was to be found. they always remained until the middle of october, when the beaches became covered with ice and they were forced to seek a milder climate. the 1st of october, as the first snowstorms begin, these birds desert the more exposed islets and beaches for the inner bays and sandy beaches, where their habits are like those of other sandpipers in similar situations. _winter._--this hardy sandpiper is well known to winter regularly and abundantly in the aleutian and commander islands. according to notes received from d. e. brown, it reaches the coast of washington as early as october 1, where it spends the winter in grays harbor and jefferson counties and on the outer islands. carl lien's notes, from destruction island, give it as a "common winter resident. a flock of probably 50 spend the winter. nearly always found in company with turnstones and surfbirds, and together with these birds confine themselves entirely to the reefs." distribution _range._--the northeastern corner of siberia, west coast of alaska and adjacent islands, including the aleutians, south (rarely) to northwestern oregon. _breeding range._--the breeding range of the aleutian sandpiper extends north to eastern siberia (emma harbor) and alaska (cape prince of wales). east to alaska (cape prince of wales, colville river, and port moller); and the shumagin islands. south to the shumagin islands; the western part of the alaskan peninsula (muller bay and morzhovia bay); and the aleutian islands (unalaska, atka, tanaga, kiska, agutta, and attu islands). west to the aleutian islands (attu) and eastern siberia (emma harbor). the species also has been detected in summer at st. lawrence and st. matthew islands and at other points on the mainland of alaska (point dall, pastolik, st. michael, nulato, and port clarence). _winter range._--resident throughout much of its range, but also south in winter, along the alaskan and british columbian coasts and as far as washington (destruction island). _migration._--the migrations performed by the aleutian sandpiper are very limited. in the vicinity of st. michael, alaska, flocks will appear as early as august 15, occasionally remaining until october 15. they have been noted on the asiatic side of bering sea at providence bay in june, at east cape in july, at plover bay in september, and on bering island as late as october 24. spring migrants have been observed to reach point etolin, alaska, as early as april 8 and bering island april 24. spring departures from the southern part of the winter range have been noted as late as: destruction island, may 1; forrester island, may 7; and admiralty island, may 14. an early fall arrival at craig, alaska, is august 6 and at destruction island october 1. _casual records._--this species has been collected or observed outside of its known normal range on a few occasions: washington, point chehalis, november 6, 1917, and dungeness spit, march 4, 1916; oregon, cape meares, december 31, 1912, and march 18, 1913; these may prove to be regular winter resorts. _egg dates._--alaska: 18 records, june 3 to july 24; 9 records, june 15 to 22. pisobia acuminata (horsfield) sharp-tailed sandpiper habits this is a bird which few of us have been privileged to see. from its summer home in northeastern siberia it migrates south to japan, the malay archipelago, australia, and new zealand. on the fall migration it visits the coast of northwestern alaska frequently, perhaps regularly, and often commonly. it occurs regularly, sometimes abundantly, on the pribilof islands in the fall. in southern alaska and farther south it occurs only as a rare straggler. a. w. anthony (1922) took a young male near san diego, california, on september 16, 1921. some european writers have called it the siberian pectoral sandpiper, which its resemblance to our common bird of that name seems to warrant. it is so much like our pectoral sandpiper in appearance, behavior, and haunts, that it has probably often been overlooked; it may therefore occur on our northwestern coast much oftener than we suspect. _nesting._--the sharp-tailed sandpiper is supposed to breed in mongolia and eastern siberia; it has been seen and collected on its breeding grounds in northeastern siberia, cape wankarem, the chuckchi peninsula, and the kolyma delta, but apparently its nest has never been found and its eggs are entirely unknown. _plumages._--the downy young is entirely unknown. this sandpiper is handsomely and richly colored in any plumage, but the rich buff and bright browns of the juvenal plumage are particularly noticeable. the body plumage is molted in the fall, the wings and tail in late winter, and the body plumage is partially molted again in the spring. the plumages are well described in the manuals. _food._--preble and mcatee (1923) report on the food of this species, as follows: eight well-filled and one nearly empty stomach of the sharp-tailed sandpiper are available to illustrate the food habits. this number is too small to furnish reliable results, and too great dependence must not be placed in data as to the relative ranks of food items as here stated. the percentages found for the limited material, then, are flies (diptera), 39.1 per cent; crustaceans, 18.1 per cent; mollusks, 14.2 per cent; caddisflies, 11.8 per cent; beetles, 8.8 per cent; hymenoptera, 1.8 per cent; and vegetable matter, 3.9 per cent. mr. hanna notes that flocks of this species frequent the seal-killing fields, feeding on fly maggots, a statement receiving confirmation from stomach analysis. _behavior._--dr. e. w. nelson (1887) tells us a little about the habits of this rare species, as follows: they were nearly always associated with _maculata_, whose habits they shared to a great extent. when congregated about their feeding places they united into flocks of from ten into fifty, but single birds were frequently flushed from and they were rarely shy. on october 1, 1880, they were found scattered singly over the marsh, and arose 30 to 40 yards in advance, and made off with a twisting flight, uttering at the same time a short, soft, metallic _pleep, pleep,_ and pursuing an erratic, circuitous flight for a time they generally returned and settled near the spot whence they started. on the shore of siberia, near north cape, we found these birds very common, scattered over damp grass flats near the coast, the 1st of august, 1881. the ground was covered with reindeer tracks, and among these the sharp-tailed snipe were seen seeking their food. they were very unsuspicious and allowed us to pass close to them, or circled close about us. from their movements and other circumstances i judged that this district formed part of their breeding grounds, whence they reach the neighboring coast of alaska in fall. _field marks._--the sharp-tailed sandpiper most closely resembles the pectoral sandpiper, but it can often be recognized in the field by the more ruddy color of the upper parts. most of the feathers of the shoulders, scapulars and secondaries are broadly edged with chestnut; these edgings are paler in winter. the bright chestnut crown, streaked with black, and the ruddy brown suffusion on the chest and sides, might be recognized under favorable circumstances. _fall._--not much seems to be known about the spring migration, but the fall migration is fairly well marked. doctor nelson (1887) says: they usually make their first appearance on the shore of norton sound the last of august, and in a few days become very common. they sometimes remain up to the 12th of october, and i have seen them searching for food along the tide line when the ground was covered with 2 inches of snow. when feeding along the edges of the tide-creeks they may almost be knocked over with a paddle, and when a flock is fired into it returns again and again. it is a regular fall migrant in the pribilof islands, between august 17 and november 9, where it associates in large flocks with the pectoral sandpiper on the seal-killing fields. doctor stejneger (1885) writes: of this species i only obtained young specimens on bering island during the autumnal migration of 1882. from the middle of september and during the following three weeks they were observed both on the tundra near the great lake and on the rocky beach of the ocean searching for gammarids. they were very shy and mostly single or in small families. larger flocks were never seen. from the commander islands the main flight continues on down the asiatic coast, through japan, china, and the malay archipelago, to new zealand and australia, where it spends the winter. _winter._--w. b. alexander writes to me that this is- one of the commonest northern breeding birds which visits australia. my earliest record of their arrival is august 31, 1925, at cairns, north queensland, and my latest record april 21, 1922, at rockhampton, queensland. from september to march they are to be found in small flocks throughout the coastal districts of australia on the shores of estuaries and lakes and in fresh-water swamps. in october, 1922, i saw a flock of four on the open country near a dam on alice downs station, near blackall, central queensland, a locality about 350 miles from the coast. mr. d. w. gaukrodger subsequently secured an excellent photograph of three of these birds at the same dam. distribution _range._--the sharp-tailed sandpiper breeds in the northeastern part of asia--so far as known, in northeastern siberia--wintering south to new guinea, tonga islands, australia, and new zealand. occurs in migration in kamchatka, china, and japan. during fall migration it is of regular though rare occurrence in alaska (hotham inlet, september 1, 1880; port clarence, september 9, 1880; nome, september 2 to 16, 1910; st. michael, september 16, 1877, august 29 and september 11, 1879, september 18, 21, and 24, 1899; bethel, september 30 and october 1, 1914; st. paul island, august 17, 1897, september 7 and 13, 1910, september 14 and 20 and october 12, 1914; st. george island, october 3, 1899; and valdez, september 18, 1908). _casual records._--the species is accidental in british columbia (massett, december 27, 1897, and comox, october 4, 1903); washington (mouth of the nooksack river, september 2, 1892); england (breydon, norfolk, august, 1892, and yarmouth, september, 1848 [?]); and the hawaiian islands (laysan [specimen in museum at bremen], a second specimen near honolulu, a third specimen was collected on maui [henshaw], and bartsch secured two specimens and saw others on sand island, november 8, 1907). one was taken near san diego, calif., on september 16, 1921. pisobia maculata (vieillot) pectoral sandpiper habits this familiar sandpiper is well known as a migrant throughout most of north america, especially east of the rocky mountains, as it travels on its long journeys between the arctic tundras, where it breeds, and its winter home in southern south america. it is more popular among gunners than the other small sandpipers, to whom it is known by several names. it is called "jack snipe" on account of its resemblance in appearance and habits to the wilson snipe. it deserves the name, "grass bird," because it usually frequents grassy meadows. the name, "creaker," "creeker," or "krieker," may have been derived from its reedy notes, from its haunts along the muddy banks of creeks, or from the german word _kriecher_, on account of its crouching habits. _spring._--the northward migration must start from argentina in february, for it reaches texas and louisiana early in march, and i have seen it in florida as early as march 14. on the other hand it has been taken at mendoza, argentina, as late as march 26. the main flight passes through the united states during march and april, but i have seen it in texas as late as may 17. during may the migration is at its height in canada and before the end of that month it reaches its summer home. william rowan tells me that it is always very abundant in alberta during may and that the males come alone at first, then mixed flocks, and finally only females. h. b. conover writes to me that "these sandpipers seemed to arrive at point dall (alaska) all at once. up to may 20 none had been seen, but on the 21st they were found to be common all over the tundra. immediately on arrival the males started their booming courtship." john murdoch (1885) says that, at point barrow: they arrive about the end of may or early in june, and frequent the small ponds and marshy portions of the tundra along the shore, sometimes associated with other small waders, especially with the buff-breasted sandpipers on the high banks of nunava. early in the season they are frequently in large-sized flocks feeding together around and in the eskimo village at cape smythe, but later become thoroughly scattered all over the tundra. _courtship._--the wonderful and curious courtship of the pectoral sandpiper has been well described by several writers. dr. e. w. nelson's (1887) pleasing and graphic account of it is well worth quoting in full; he writes: the night of may 24 i lay wrapped in my blanket, and from the raised flap of the tent looked out over as dreary a cloud-covered landscape as can be imagined. the silence was unbroken save by the tinkle and clinking of the disintegrating ice in the river, and at intervals by the wild notes of some restless loon, which arose in a hoarse reverberating cry and died away in a strange gurgling sound. as my eyelids began to droop and the scene to become indistinct, suddenly a low, hollow, booming note struck my ear and sent my thoughts back to a spring morning in northern illinois, and to the loud vibrating tones of the prairie chickens. again the sound arose nearer and more distinct, and with an effort i brought myself back to the reality of my position and, resting upon one elbow, listened. a few seconds passed and again arose the note; a moment later and, gun in hand, i stood outside the tent. the open flat extended away on all sides, with apparently not a living creature near. once again the note was repeated close by, and a glance revealed its author. standing in the thin grasses 10 or 15 yards from me, with its throat inflated until it was as large as the rest of the bird, was a male _a. maculata_. the succeeding days afforded opportunity to observe the bird as it uttered its singular notes under a variety of situations and at various hours of the day or during the light arctic night. the note is deep, hollow, and resonant, but at the same time liquid and musical, and may be represented by a repetition of the syllables _too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u_. before the bird utters these notes it fills its esophagus with air to such an extent that the breast and throat is inflated to twice or more its natural size, and the great air sac thus formed gives the peculiar resonant quality to the note. the skin of the throat and breast becomes very flabby and loose at this season, and its inner surface is covered with small globular masses of fat. when not inflated, the skin loaded with this extra weight and with a slightly serous suffusion which is present hangs down in a pendulous flap or fold exactly like a dewlap, about an inch and a half wide. the esophagus is very loose and becomes remarkably soft and distensible, but is easily ruptured in this state, as i found by dissection. in the plate accompanying this report the extent and character of this inflation, unique at least among american waders, is shown. the bird may frequently be seen running along the ground close to the female, its enormous sac inflated, and its head drawn back and the bill pointing directly forward, or, filled with spring-time vigor, the bird flits with slow but energetic wingstrokes close along the ground, its head raised high over the shoulders and the tail hanging almost directly down. as it thus flies it utters a succession of the hollow, booming notes, which have a strange ventriloquial quality. at times the male rises 20 or 30 yards in the air and inflating its throat glides down to the ground with its sac hanging below, as is shown in the accompanying plate. again he crosses back and forth in front of the female, puffing his breast out and bowing from side to side, running here and there, as if intoxicated with passion. whenever he pursues his love-making, his rather low but pervading note swells and dies in musical cadences, which form a striking part of the great bird chorus heard at this season in the north. mr. conover (notes) adds the following: when the male rises in the air to boom, in sailing to the ground he throws his wings up over his back, much in the same manner as tame pigeons when descending from a height; also a male which flew by with pouch extended was noticed to jerk his head up and down as he gave his call. the bill was partly open and he gave the appearance of swallowing air to inflate his throat. as it is the esophagus which is inflated and not the windpipe, this in all probability is what he does. s. a. buturlin (1907) gives a somewhat different account of it, as observed by him in siberia, as follows: one would every now and then stretch both wings right over its back, and afterwards commence a grotesque sort of dance, hopping alternately on each leg; another would inflate its gular pouch and run about, crouching down to the ground, or would fly up to about a hundred feet in the air, then inflate its pouch and descend slowly and obliquely to the ground on extended wings. all these performances were accompanied by a strange hollow sound, not very loud when near, but audible at some distance, even as far as 500 yards. these notes are very difficult to locate, and vary according to the distance. when near they are tremulous booming sounds something like the notes of a frog, and end in clear sounds like those caused by the bursting of water bubbles in a copper vessel. _nesting._--mr. murdoch (1885) says: the nest is always built in the grass, with a decided preference for high and dry localities like the banks of gulleys and streams. it was sometimes placed at the edge of a small pool, but always in grass and in a dry place, never in the black clay and moss, like the plover and buff-breasted sandpipers, or in the marsh, like the phalaropes. the nest was like that of the other waders, a depression in the ground lined with a little dry grass. a set in my collection, taken by f. s. hersey, near st. michael, alaska, was in a slight hollow on the open tundra with no concealment. and a set in the herbert massey collection, taken near point barrow by e. a. mcilhenny, came from "a slight hollow lined with dry grass, in the dry, gray moss of the tundra." herbert w. brandt in his manuscript notes says: the pectoral sandpiper usually chooses for its homesite the upland rolling tundra, but an occasional isolated pair was found on the dry grass lands of the tide flats. this species builds the most substantial of any of the shorebirds nests that we met with at hooper bay, for even after it was removed from the grassy cavity in which it was built the nest would often hold firmly together. the birds showed exceptional skill in the concealment of their homes and consequently they were very difficult to find for they chose a tract where the curly bunch grass grew abundantly and under its domed protection they constructed an excavation deep in the moss. here a substantial nest is fashioned of grasses and tediously lined or rather filled with small crisp leaves of the low perennial plants that there, in a dwarf creeping form, are the only representatives of the great inland forests. the dimensions vary between the following extremes: inside diameter 3 to 3-1/2 inches; depth 1-3/4 to 2-1/2 inches; and outside depth 3-1/2 to 5 inches. we never observed other than the female carrying on the loving duties of incubation and seldom indeed was the male even in close attendance. the female is very difficult to approach on the nest because she invariably leaves it before the ornithologist draws near and consequently we spent many hours endeavoring to watch the shy bird return to her nest. the behavior of parent birds about the nests seems to be variable. w. sprague brooks (1915) says: on approaching the vicinity of the nest the bird would leave it quietly and walk slowly about feeding and showing no excitement whatever. this happened several times until i decided to watch the bird and see if by any chance she might have a nest. in a short time she walked to a bunch of grass a few feet from me and settled on the nest. even while i was packing away the eggs she showed no concern. i had precisely the same experience with the other two nests. on the other hand, alfred m. bailey (1926) writes: on july 3 hendee flushed a female from a set of four slightly incubated eggs. "the nest," he states, "was in a patch of marsh grass, similar to the location usually chosen by the phalaropes, except that the ground was not wet. the female fluttered away to a distance of about 30 feet and went through a remarkable performance in her attempt to decoy me from the nest. she crept about among the hummocks in a very unbirdlike fashion, uttering all the time a mouse-like squeaking." _eggs._--mr. brandt in his manuscript notes has described the eggs so well that i can not do better than to quote him, as follows: the eggs of the pectoral sandpiper are of particular interest because they are perhaps the most beautiful of the many handsome shore-bird eggs that are found in the hooper bay region. their rich and contrasting colors, their bold splashed markings, and high luster make them veritable gems of oological perfection. in all nests that came under our observation four eggs constituted the complement, and these generally nestled points together amid the crisp leafy lining of their birthplace, standing most often at an obtuse angle to the horizontal. in outline they range from subpyriform to ovate pyriform. the exterior of the shell has a smooth, almost polished surface that reflects in many eggs a high luster. the ground color varies considerably from dull white to "cream buff" and even to "deep olive buff," but in all sets i have seen the ground color and markings follow the same shades and types in the same set of eggs. the surface markings are bold and individual, and appear as if they were daubed with a paint brush. these large rich spots are elongated and are placed parallel to the long axis of the egg, showing but little tendency to spiral. the heaviest markings are at the larger end, often merging into a large "chocolate" blotch, and in one case this rich blot of color covered more than a fourth of the egg. the color of the markings ranges from "walnut brown" and "sepia" to "chocolate" and "blackish brown," with "chocolate" the predominating shade. the underlying spots are prominent and numerous on some eggs, while on others they are almost wanting. they vary from "pearl gray" to "violet gray," with an occasional egg inclined to "isabella color." in fact, each different clutch of eggs exhibits some individual interesting peculiarity. my only set, taken for me by mr. hersey, would fit the above description very well, but it is not particularly handsome. the ground color is dull white or "pale olive buff," which is more or less evenly marked with small blotches and spots of "bister" and "bone brown." mr. murdoch (1885) says that they "may be distinguished from those of the buff-breasted sandpiper, which they closely resemble, by their warmer color." the measurements of 116 eggs, in the united states national museum and in mr. brandt's collection, average 36.5 by 25 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =38.5= by 25, 38 by =27=, =34= by 24.9, and 35.5 by =24.5= millimeters. _young._--mr. conover writes to me as follows: the incubation period seems to run from 21 to 23 days. a nest found may 31 with the complete set of four eggs was hatched on the morning of june 21. another nest containing four eggs, from which the old bird was flushed, was found on june 2 and hatched on june 25. the first young were found on june 21. contrary to their habits when there were only eggs in the nest, the mothers now showed great concern for their young. at one time murie caught some newly hatched young, and holding his hand containing them extended on the ground, induced the old bird to come up and brood the chicks. she was so tame that he caught and banded her without difficulty. the male seems to take no part on the incubation or care of the young. he was often seen to join a hen driven from the nest, but only for purposes of courtship, as he would start booming immediately and chase her about. before the eggs began to hatch, male birds seemed to disappear from the tundra. there was never more than one bird seen with the young. thirty days seemed to be about the time necessary for the chicks to mature, as by july 20 fully fledged young were seen commonly about the tundra. mr. buturlin (1907) says: when i approached the breeding ground the old birds flew to meet me, one after another, and wheeled around uttering low tremulous notes of various kinds. these calls were evidently meant for the young and had different meanings. when the female is with them (and you must sit watching for an hour or more to observe this), the little ones are somewhat shy and take refuge under her. if you make the slightest movement she flies up, uttering the usual _kirip_, and kicks the young forwards, never backwards, until they tumble head over heels 5 or 6 inches away. there they lie as if dead, but with open eyes, and the mother flies around uttering a low tremulous _kirip, kirip, trip, trrrrrr_, evidently meaning "lie quite still." then she alights near the young and runs about feigning lameness, while trying in every way to make you attempt to capture her. if, however, you keep quite quiet she becomes reassured, approaches near to where her young are, and utters with tender modulations, _day-day-day, day-day-day_, which means evidently "all right, come here." then the chicks commence to chirp _peep, peep, peeyp_, and run to their mother. on one occasion i observed all this at a distance of about 10 paces, and once i was only about 3 paces from them. the downy young know their mother's call _day-day-day_ so well that on one occasion a young bird, which i was taking home in my butterfly net, when it heard a female call quite close to me, climbed out of the net to rejoin her. mr. brandt in his manuscript notes writes: the potential energy stored up in the small richly colored eggs of this northern sandpiper is almost beyond comprehension. the downy chicks, as soon as they are out of the shell, show wonderful activity. when they are but 30 minutes old, their apparently slight legs carry them over the ground with great rapidity. they know at birth how to hide among the hummocks and vegetation so as to defy the sharpest eyes. in three weeks they are awing and six weeks later they are off on their long journey to the south, crossing mighty mountain ridges, great stretches of land and of sea. according to w. h. hudson (1920), the pectoral sandpiper arrives in the la plata region, in southern south america, about the end of august, and he writes: among these first comers there are some young birds, so immature, with threads of yellow down still adhering to the feathers of the head, and altogether weak in appearance, that one can scarcely credit the fact that so soon after being hatched they have actually performed the stupendous journey from the northern extremity of the north american continent to the buenos-ayrean pampas. _plumages._--the young pectoral in down is a beauty and is distinctively colored. the forehead, back to the eyes, lores, sides of the head and neck, and the breast are from "cinnamon buff" to "cream buff," paling to white or grayish white on the throat and belly. there is a broad, black, median stripe from the crown to the bill, a narrow, black loral stripe, which is joined by another, still narrower, malar stripe under the eye, extending to the auriculars; below the ear is a dark-brown spot. in the center of the crown is a black spot, surrounded by a circle of buffy white dots; around this the crown is a mixture of black and "burnt sienna," bordered with buffy white, except in front; and around this border, or along each side of it, is a narrow stripe of blackish brown above the buffy superciliary stripe. the nape is grizzly brown, buff, and whitish. the back, wings, and thighs are variegated with black, "chestnut," and "burnt sienna," and decorated with small dots of buffy white in an irregular pattern. the juvenal plumage is much like that of the summer adult, except that the feathers of the mantle, scapulars, and the median and lesser wing coverts are edged with brighter colors, "tawny," "ochraceous-buff," and creamy white; and the breast is more buffy or yellowish. this plumage is apparently worn all through the fall and winter or until the first prenuptial molt in february and march, when the body plumage is renewed. at the first postnuptial molt, the next summer, the young bird becomes indistinguishable from the adult, having molted the entire plumage. adults have a partial prenuptial molt in the spring, from february to june, which involves the body plumage, except the back and rump and some of the scapulars, tertials, and wing coverts. the complete postnuptial molt of adults is much prolonged; the body molt begins in august, but the wings are not molted until the bird reaches its winter home, beginning in october and often lasting until february. two adult females taken by doctor wetmore (1926) on september 9 in paraguay "were in worn breeding plumage with no indication of molt." and one shot in uruguay february 8 had renewed all but a few feathers of the entire plumage, while a male taken the same day was molting its primaries. there is very little difference between the summer and winter plumages; the feather edgings of the upper parts are more rufous in summer and more ashy in winter. _food._--according to preble and mcatee (1923), the contents of 21 well-filled gizzards of this species consisted principally of "flies (diptera), 54.5 per cent; amphipods, 22.3 per cent; vegetable matter, chiefly algae, 10.5 per cent; beetles, 8 per cent; hymenoptera, 2.1 per cent; and bugs (hemiptera), 1.3 per cent." other things eaten were mites, spiders, and caddis fly larvae and a few seeds of grass, lupine, and violet. p. l. hatch (1892) says that "their food is principally crickets in spring, interlarded with various dry-land larvae, small beetles, and ground worms. in the fall the grasshoppers are first chosen, after which crickets and whatever other insects prevail at this season." birds taken by b. s. bowdish (1902) in porto rico had eaten fiddler crabs. pectoral sandpipers feed mainly in grassy meadows, more or less dry, and their food is chiefly insects. _behavior._--on the grassy salt meadows, where we usually find it, i have often been impressed with the resemblance of this sandpiper and the wilson snipe, both in appearance and in behavior. it is often found in wisps or scattered flocks, the individuals widely separated and crouching in the grass. often it flushes close at hand with a startling harsh cry and dashes hurriedly away with a zigzag flight. sometimes it flutters away for only a short distance and drops quickly into the grass. again it makes a long flight, circling high in the air and then pitches down suddenly in some distant part of the marsh, or perhaps near the starting point. though erratic at first, the flight is swift and direct when well under way. they sometimes fly in flocks like other sandpipers, but more often they are flushed singly. they usually flock by themselves but are sometimes associated, purely fortuitously i believe, with other species that frequent similar feeding grounds, such as wilson snipe, baird, least or semipalmated sandpipers. the pectoral sandpiper has another snipelike habit of standing motionless in the grass, relying on its concealing coloration, where its striped plumage renders it almost invisible, even in plain sight. it moves about slowly while feeding, probing in the mud with rapid strokes. often it stands perfectly still with its head held high, watching an intruder; the dark markings on its neck end abruptly on the white breast, breaking up the outline and helping the bird to fade into the background. it is occasionally seen swimming across a narrow creek or channel. _voice._--this is a rather noisy bird, especially so on its breeding ground, and its short, sharp flight notes are quite characteristic of the "creaker." mr. nichols contributes the following good description of them: the notes of the pectoral sandpiper have a reedy character, intermediate in tone between the clearer calls of most shore birds and the hoarse cry of the wilson's snipe. this is in keeping with its habits. its characteristic flight note is a loud reedy _kerr_, resembling that of the semipalmated sandpiper (_cherk_) more closely than any other shore bird call, but recognizably heavier. rarely in flight, the _kerr_ varies into or is replaced by a near-whistled _krru_. on being flushed it often has hoarse, hurried cheeping notes, analogous with similar harsher notes of the wilson's snipe. when in a flock of its own kind, alert and on the move, it has a short, snappy flocking note, a chorus of _tcheps_ or _chips_. to my ear its flushing note is more or less a combination of flight note and flocking note, and it may reasonably be so. the flocking note communicates alertness to near-by members of a flock; the flight note is used more emphatically by birds separated from their companions or in active flight and disposed for companionship, whereas on being flushed the bird is signaling to possible companions; but as it has been feeding singly, concealed from such others as there may be by the grass, their distance is uncertain. _field marks._--the pale-gray, almost white, tail with its dark, almost black, center and rump, is conspicuous in flight; a pale stripe in the wing is less noticeable. the snipelike colors of the upper parts, the dark, heavily streaked breast, contrasted sharply with the white under parts, and the short olive-yellow legs are good field marks when the bird is standing. the males are much larger than the females, which is unusual among shore birds. _fall._--regarding their departure from their breeding grounds, murdoch (1885) says: after the breeding season, they keep very quiet and retired, like the rest of the waders, and the adults appear to slip quietly away without collecting into flocks, as soon as the young are able to take care of themselves. as soon as the young have assumed the complete fall plumage, that is about the 10th of august, they gather in large flocks with the other young waders, especially about the small ponds on the high land below cape smythe, and stay for several days before they take their departure for the south. stray birds remain as late as the first week of september. on the new england coast the pectoral is both an early and a late migrant; a few adults sometimes appear in july and more come in august; but the main flight, mostly young birds, comes in september and october; they are often abundant in the latter month and i have seen them as late as october 31. when with us it is seldom seen on the sandy flats or beaches, but frequents the wet, fresh and salt meadows, preferably where the grass has been cut and which after a rain are covered with shallow pools of water. here and along the margins of marshy creeks are its favorite feeding grounds. it does not decoy well and is no longer considered a game bird, but it has been popular with sportsmen for its gamy qualities and for the excellence of its flesh. there is a marked southeastward trend in the fall migration of this species; from its breeding grounds in northern alaska and northeastern siberia its main flight seems to be towards the atlantic coast of the united states; it is not abundant and rather irregular on the pacific coast south of alaska; it is common at times in the interior of canada and usually abundant in new england. it occasionally occurs in enormous numbers in bermuda and seems to be always rare in florida; these facts would seem to indicate an ocean route to south america. _winter._--the winter home of the pectoral sandpiper is in southern south america. arthur h. holland (1891) says that in the argentine republic, it is "usually found in marshy land with long water weeds abounding, frequenting the same spot for weeks together." between september and march 26, doctor wetmore (1926) recorded it as "fairly common" at various places in paraguay, argentina, and uruguay. it evidently spends over half the year in its winter home and makes very rapid flights to and from its arctic breeding grounds, where it makes a short visit of about two months. distribution _range._--northeastern siberia, and north and south america; accidental in the hawaiian islands and the british isles. _breeding range._--the pectoral sandpiper breeds mainly on the arctic coasts of alaska and mackenzie. north to siberia (kolyma delta); alaska (cape lisburne, cape smythe, point barrow, colville delta, collinson point, barter island, and demarcation point); yukon (herschel island); northeastern mackenzie (cambridge bay); and northeastern manitoba (york factory). east to northeastern manitoba (york factory). south to manitoba (york factory); mackenzie (clinton-colden lake and lac de gras); and alaska (tacotna forks and hooper bay). west to alaska (hooper bay, fort clarence, point hope, and cape lisburne); and northeastern siberia (kolyma delta). it has also been reported in summer at fort anderson and bernard harbor, mackenzie, and in northwestern greenland (cape hatherton). summer occurrence outside the range above outlined are keewatin (cape eskimo); manitoba (button bay); southwestern alaska (nushagak); and northeastern siberia (cape serdze, and nijni kolymsk). _winter range._--south america. north to ecuador (near quito); bolivia (falls of the madeira, san luis, and caiza); and paraguay (colonia risso). east to uruguay (santa elena); and argentina (buenos aires, la plata, barracas, chubut valley, port desire, and colonia rouquand). south and west to argentina (colonia rouquand). west also to chile (santiago, huasco, antofagasta, atacama, and tarapaca); peru (chorillos and junin); and ecuador (near quito). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival are: florida, fort de soto, february 22, and orange hammock, february 25; alabama, greensboro, march 20; south carolina, frogmore, march 20; north carolina, raleigh, march 21; district of columbia, washington, march 26; pennsylvania, carlisle, march 28, beaver, april 1, and harrisburg, april 7; new york, canandaigua, april 14, buffalo, april 18, gaines, may 5, and orient, may 7; massachusetts, thompson's island, march 30, monomoy island, april 11, and dennis, april 16; maine, scarboro, april 13; quebec, quebec, may 2; louisiana, lake borgne, march 12, new orleans, march 18, and baton rouge parish, march 19; mississippi, biloxi, february 28; arkansas, glenwood, march 27; kentucky, bowling green, april 29; missouri, st. louis, march 2, warrenburg, march 11, fayette, march 16, and independence, march 18; illinois, englewood, march 9, rantoul, march 14, mount carmel, march 15, canton, march 26, and chicago, march 29; indiana, bloomington, march 15, terre haute, march 17, bicknell, march 18, and greencastle, march 22; ohio, columbus, march 1, new bremen, march 24, columbus, march 25, oberlin, march 25, cincinnati, march 28, and youngstown, march 31; michigan, ann arbor, april 8, and detroit, april 12; ontario, ottawa, april 27, and fort williams, may 10; iowa, keokuk, march 14, la porte, march 25, sigourney, march 26, and des moines, march 31; wisconsin, milwaukee, march 26, and madison, march 31; minnesota, heron lake, april 1, hutchinson, april 5, and wilder, april 6; texas, santa maria, february 28, houston, march 7, and hidalgo, march 16; oklahoma, ponca city, march 31; kansas, topeka, march 29, and mcpherson, april 9; nebraska, lincoln, march 10; south dakota, sioux falls, april 10, and forestburg, april 20; north dakota, charlson, april 27; manitoba, pilot mound, may 1, reaburn, may 9, and margaret, may 9; saskatchewan, lake johnston, may 9; mackenzie, sturgeon river, may 12, fort providence, may 14, fort simpson, may 16, and fort resolution, may 19; colorado, denver, april 21; montana, fergus county, april 22; washington, menlo, april 1; yukon, forty-mile, may 16, and dawson, may 19; and alaska, bethel, may 4, st. michael, may 15, demarcation point, may 23, kowak river, may 27, and point barrow, may 30. late dates of spring departure are: costa rica, buenos aires de terrabe, may 29, and san jose, may 19; florida, fort de soto, may 20; pennsylvania, doylestown, may 27; new jersey, elizabeth, may 30; new york, canandaigua, may 24; massachusetts, near boston, june 3; louisiana, new orleans, may 20; mississippi, bay st. louis, may 10; arkansas, arkansas city, may 15; kentucky, bowling green, may 11; missouri, lake taney como, may 7, st. louis, may 11, and columbia, may 15; illinois, elgin, may 12, addison, may 17, la grange, may 17, havana, may 24, and chicago, june 18; indiana, greencastle, may 4, lyons, may 6, crawfordsville, may 8, and bloomington, may 9; ohio, tiffin, may 15, oberlin, may 20, columbus, may 21, and youngstown, may 24; michigan, detroit, may 13, hillsdale, may 17, and ann arbor, may 19; ontario, ottawa, may 25; iowa, lake okoboji, may 27, emmetsburg, may 28, sioux city, may 30, and forest city, may 31; wisconsin, elkhorn, may 14, and madison, may 19; minnesota, heron lake, may 16, minneapolis, may 18, hutchinson, may 19, and hallock, may 28; texas, sweetwater, may 8, corpus christi, may 11, and decatur, may 19; kansas, fort riley, may 24, and onaga, may 24; nebraska, valentine, may 17, and neligh, may 26; south dakota, vermilion, may 12, and sioux falls, june 11; north dakota, charlson, may 11; manitoba, winnipeg, may 24, and shoal lake, june 2; montana, big sandy, may 18; and washington, fort steilacoom, may 5. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrivals are: british columbia, okanagan landing, july 16; washington, tacoma, august 17; california, redwood city, august 22; montana, sweetgrass hills, august 11; wyoming, yellowstone park, july 19; colorado, denver, july 28; mackenzie, fort wrigley, july 19; saskatchewan, milk river, july 16, and big stick lake, july 18; manitoba, moosejaw, july 7; north dakota, charlson, july 20; south dakota, forestburg, july 8, huron, july 15; nebraska, valentine, august 8; texas, brownsville, august 2, tivoli, august 8; minnesota, minneapolis, july 15, lanesboro, july 18, and st. vincent, july 24; wisconsin, madison, july 22, north freedom, july 25, and racine, july 30; iowa, marshalltown, july 8, and wall lake, july 23; ontario, toronto, july 14, and todmorden, july 23; michigan, detroit, july 14, and charity islands, july 27; ohio, dayton, july 20, bay point, july 24, painesville, july 25, and north lima, july 27; illinois, chicago, july 2, and la grange, july 27; mississippi, bay st. louis, july 15, and beauvoir, july 26; nova scotia, digby, july 26; new brunswick, scotch lake, august 9; maine, pittsfield, july 26; massachusetts, marthas vineyard, july 11; new york, syracuse, july 2, orient, july 4, rochester, july 10, and east hampton, july 11; new jersey, elizabeth, july 14, and camden, august 16; pennsylvania, beaver, august 6; district of columbia, washington, august 10; virginia, chincoteague, august 1; south carolina, mount pleasant, july 21, and frogmore, august 1; alabama, leighton, july 24; florida, fort de soto, july 25, and key west, july 26; bermuda, penistons pond, august 3; bahama islands, fortune island, august 5; porto rico, guayanilla, august 24; west indies, barbados, august 16, guadeloupe, september 2, and st. croix, september 14; lower california, san jose del cabo, september 2; guatemala, duenas, september 2; costa rica, san jose, september 7; and colombia, santa marta, september 14. late dates of fall departure are: alaska, st. george island, october 3, unalaska, october 5, st. paul island, october 8, and nushagak, october 15; british columbia, comox, october 15, chilliwak, october 19, and okanagan landing, november 5; washington, nisqually flats, november 6, and simiahmoo, november 1; oregon, cold springs bird reserve, october 27; california, oakland, october 8; lower california, san jose del cabo, october 24; costa rica, la estrella de cartago, november 5; montana, flathead lake, october 20, and terry, october 21; idaho, deer flat, november 1; colorado, barr, october 5; mackenzie, slave river, september 29, and blackwater, october 7; manitoba, winnipeg, october 18, and winnipeg, october 29; south dakota wall lake, october 14, and sioux falls, november 5; nebraska, lincoln, november 4; minnesota, hallock, october 16, and st. vincent, october 25; wisconsin, madison, october 11; iowa, marshalltown, november 18, and keokuk, november 24; ontario, london, october 16, toronto, october 27, and ottawa, november 5; michigan, hillsdale, october 6, bay city, october 21, and detroit, october 29; ohio, youngstown, november 5, dayton, november 18, and columbus, november 28; indiana, lafayette; october 5, and bicknell, november 1; illinois, chicago, october 3, and lawrenceville, november 13; quebec, montreal, november 1, quebec, november 10, and anticosti island, november 12; maine, lewiston, october 13, and pittsfield, november 10; massachusetts, lynn, october 28, harvard, october 30, and monomoy island, november 1; new york, long beach, november 7, keuka, november 12, and branchport, november 23; new jersey, camden, november 8; pennsylvania, erie, october 31, and carlisle, november 2; district of columbia, anacostia, november 1; north carolina, raleigh, november 15; florida, lake jackson, november 22, and palma sola, november 29; and bermuda, st. george, october 9. _casual records._--the pectoral sandpiper has been taken twice in the hawaiian islands, koahualu, august 6, 1900, and october 14, 1900; once at hopedale, labrador; and several times in greenland, in summer and fall. observed in labrador, rigolet, june 24 to july 8, 1882, and davis inlet, july 18, 1883. in europe it has apparently been detected only in the british isles, where there are several records from scotland and ireland and the southern counties of england. _egg dates._--alaska: 16 records, may 27 to july 3; 8 records, june 2 to 18. arctic canada: 3 records, june 10 to 30. pisobia fuscicollis (vieillot) white-rumped sandpiper habits the white-rumped, or bonaparte, sandpiper is a great traveller; it breeds in a limited area on the arctic coast of north america and winters in extreme southern south america. _spring._--from its winter home in south america, this sandpiper makes an early start; dr. alexander wetmore (1926) writes: at guamini, buenos aires, from march 3 to 8, white-rumped sandpipers were encountered in northward migration from a winter range in patagonia. the species was fairly common on march 3 and increased greatly in abundance on the two days that followed. the northward journey was apparently as concerted as the movement that carried the birds southward, as on march 6 there was a noticeable decrease in their numbers, and by march 8, though the birds were still common, the bulk of individuals had passed. they arrived in flocks from the southward, often of several hundred individuals, that whirled in and circled back and forth along the lake shore to decoy to birds feeding on the strand or to rise again and continue swiftly northward. those that paused kept up a busy search for food along the muddy beaches in or near shallow water, or in company with little parties of buff-breasted sandpipers on the drier alkaline flats back of the shore line. in early morning they were especially active and were in continual movement. occasionally they worked out into comparatively deep water where in feeding it is necessary to immerse the head over the eyes nearly to the ear openings. when disturbed flocks rose with soft notes that resembled _tseet tseet_ or _tseup_ to circle to new feeding grounds on the lake shore. the spring migration route is apparently northward along the atlantic coast of south america and through the west indies to the united states. only a few migrate along our atlantic coast, as the main flight is northward through the interior, during may and the first few days of june. many reach their breeding grounds before the end of may. _courtship._--doctor wetmore (1926) gives an attractive account of what seems to be a beginning of courtship in argentina; he writes: occasional parties of males, animated by the approaching breeding season, broke into soft songs and called and twittered, often for several minutes, in a musical chorus in low tones that had so little carrying power that they merged in the strong wind, and it was some time before i succeeded in picking out the sweet individual songs _tsep a tsep a tsep a_ or _twee twee tee tee ty tee_ given as the head was bobbed rapidly up and down. occasionally when the fall sunlight came warmly i sat in the mud and let little bands of white rumps work up around me until they were feeding and calling within a meter or so, eyeing me sharply for any cause of alarm. at such times their twittering choruses came sweetly and pleasantly, clearly audible above the lap of waves and the rush of the inevitable winds of the pampas. between songs the search for food continued without cessation. at short intervals, activated by the warmth of the sun, they suddenly indulged in dozens of combats with their fellows, bloodless affrays, of bluff and retreat, where they lowered their heads and with open mouths ran at one another pugnaciously. the one attacked sidled quickly away or fluttered off for a short distance, save where two of equal temperament chanced to clash when first one and then the other threatened with raised wings in alternate advance and retreat until the fray was concluded to their mutual satisfaction. at such times the movements of these otherwise plain little birds were sprightly and vivacious to a degree. their loquacity at this season was marked as it contrasted strikingly with their silence and quiet during the resting period of southern summer. flocks frequently rose to perform intricate evolutions and then returned with a rush to sweep along the shore and join less ambitious comrades. as they passed the white rump flashed plainly, certain advertisement of the species. at times the chattering of these active flocks reminded me of the twittering of swallows. j. dewey soper found this species quite common at various places on baffin island, and has sent me some very full notes on it, from which i quote as follows: the species was encountered at nettilling lake, june 10, 1925, when a mated pair was flushed from a marshy upland near the takuirbing river. the sexual organs in both were fully developed, the female being almost on the point of laying. by the 14th the species had become quite common. the males practised their vocal performance on the wing immediately upon arrival. they rise to a height of about 60 feet above the tundra and there they hover with rapidly beating wings giving utterance to their nuptial song in notes so weak that when a wind is blowing nothing may be heard of it even at comparatively close range. it is given in a very low tone and slow tempo; the notes are weak and inclined to be squeaky, with a weird dripping quality like the sound of water oozing and dropping in a small cavern. the species appears to flush silently. _nesting._--very little seems to be known and still less has been published about the nesting habits of the white-rumped sandpiper. in macfarlane's notes i find brief records of seven nests found by his party on the barren grounds and arctic coast of canada, from 1862 to 1865. one nest was found on june 21, 1862, 50 miles east of fort anderson; the female and three eggs were taken; the nest consisted of a few leaves in a small hole in the ground near a small lake. another found on june 29, 1863, on the barren grounds, is described as "a mere depression in the ground lined with a few decayed leaves"; the female and four eggs were taken. there is a set of four eggs in the herbert massey collection, taken with the parent bird by e. a. mcillhenny at point barrow, alaska, on june 25, 1898; the nest is described as "a hollow in the moss on top of a ridge on the tundra, lined with dry grass and partly arched over." this is farther west than the species is supposed to breed, but there are several birds in the philadelphia academy of sciences collected there in june, which are in full breeding plumage. mr. soper found a number of nests near nettilling lake, baffin island, on which he has sent me the following notes: a nest containing four eggs was found on a grassy hummock on the tundra bordering the lake on june 16. many were subsequently found. the nest is merely a shallow depression on the crown of a tussock of grass and mosses a few inches above the surrounding mud and water of the tundra. it is sparingly lined with blades of old grass and dead leaves of the dwarf arctic willow. some are lined exclusively with the dried, oval leaves of _salix herbacea_. according to collecting data, both sexes arrive together, with the female almost, if not quite, ready for immediate reproduction, as evidenced by the condition of the ovaries. the nest of four eggs found on june 16 was but four days after the first observed arrivals of the species. the female upon one's approach plays the familiar artifice of simulating a prostrated condition, limping and dragging herself along the ground in an effort to attract one's attention from the nest. in this they are bold and fearless; and when one sits beside the nest they will frequently run up to within a foot or less of the observer. in photographing nests from a distance of only a few feet, the female will often return to her eggs while one's head is under the dark cloth adjusting the focus. one was so devoted to her eggs that she would run up and peck at my fingers and run over my hand as i extended it toward the nest. this species, when one approaches the nest, usually leaves it when one is 20 to 25 yards distant and runs along the ground, either directly toward the intruder or a little to one side. because of its remarkable similarity to the covering of the tundra at this time, this first movement often escapes one, and consequently when the bird is first observed fluttering along the ground one naturally imagines himself near the nest, when, in reality, it may be 20 or 30 yards away. this ruse is a clever one, and no doubt would often save the nest from violation. the nests are easily found by retiring and watching the female with the glasses. they usually return to the nest with little artifice or delay; in fact, often within two or three minutes. the above procedure is not an invariable practice, as one female i knew would flush directly from the nest to begin her tactics only when there was danger of the nest being actually trodden upon. _eggs._--the four eggs usually laid by the white-rumped sandpiper are ovate pyriform in shape; all that i have seen are uniform in shape and have characteristic colors and markings. one of the two sets in the united states national museum has a "deep olive buff" ground color, and the eggs are heavily blotched about the larger end, sparingly spotted elsewhere with "wood brown," "warm sepia," and "benzo brown," and with a few underlying spots of various shades of "brownish drab"; an egg from this set is well figured by frank poynting (1895). the other set differs from this one in having the ground color lighter, "olive buff," and the spots finer, more scrawly, and lighter in color; the underlying drab markings are also more numerous. there is also a set of four eggs in the thayer collection, taken with the parent bird by alfred h. anderson on taylor island, victoria land, july 7, 1919. these eggs are much like the egg figured by mr. poynting, except that in one or two of the eggs the ground color is more greenish. one of the three sets taken by j. dewey soper on baffin island looks much like a miniature set of long-billed curlew's eggs. in three of the eggs the ground color is "mignonette green," covered with small spots, more thickly at the larger end, of "bister" and "snuff brown"; the other has a "deep lichen green" ground color and is irregularly blotched near the larger end, finely speckled elsewhere with "bister" and "brownish drab." the measurements of 34 eggs average 33.7 by 24 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =36.1= by 23.6, 34.2 by =27.7=, =31.5= by 23.5, and 35 by =22.8= millimeters. _young._--mr. soper's notes on the young are as follows: the first juveniles, about a day old, were seen and collected on july 11. they were exceedingly active, a good example of precocial young. these were ashy below, buffy above, with black markings, and the down over the lower back and rump tipped with small spots of white. this species is much more demonstrative and less artful in the concealment of young than baird's sandpiper. the adults come within a few feet of the intruder, and by their action advertise much more clearly the position of the young. the parent birds keep up a continual fine twittering cry of alarm, the female louder and more pronounced. the male comes on the scene only at intervals with a mouse-like squeaking note. the young are adepts in the art of concealment, "freezing" flat to the ground with warning notes from the adults. they will lie in this fashion as though dead until actually picked up in the hand. when they realize the game is up they then become wild and frantically struggle to escape. when allowed to do so they will run rapidly away and either hide again or attempt to reach the mother bird, whose frantic cries come from but a few yards away. a young white rump about two-thirds grown and almost on the point of flight was captured on august 1. others seen a few days later on the shore of kuksunittuk bay were capable of short flights. as an experiment, i tried several times to keep individual young alive at my base tent on the takuirbing river, but they invariably died within about 24 hours regardless of the best care. _plumages._--the downy young white rumped is much like the downy young of other tundra nesting species of sandpipers. from the stilt sandpiper it can be distinguished by its much shorter legs and shorter and slenderer bill, from the baird by its more buffy face and breast, these parts being pure white in _bairdi_, and from the least by paler and duller browns in the upper parts and by white, instead of buffy terminal tuft spots. the crown, back, rump, wings, and thighs are variegated or marbled with "sanford's brown," or "tawny," and black, dotted, except on the front half of the crown, which is mainly bright brown, with whitish terminal tufts. the forehead, a broad superciliary stripe, the sides of the head, throat, and breast are pale buff or buffy white; the remaining under parts are grayish white. a median frontal stripe of black terminates in "tawny" toward the bill; there are extensive black areas on either side of the crown and on the occiput. the nape is grizzly, buff, gray and dusky. in juvenal plumage the crown is sepia with "tawny" edgings; the back, rump, tertials, and scapulars are sepia, with "tawny" edges, and some of the feathers of the mantle and scapulars are also white tipped; the under parts are white, but the breast is suffused with light buff and narrowly streaked with dusky; the median and lesser wing coverts are broadly edged with light buff or whitish. the postjuvenal molt of the body plumage usually occurs in september and october, mainly in the latter month, but sometimes not until november. the upper body plumage is not all molted, so that first winter birds can be distinguished by tawny or buffy edged feathers in the mantle and by the juvenal wing coverts. the next partial prenuptial molt apparently removes all traces of immaturity. adults have a prenuptial molt, beginning in march, of the under-body plumage, most of the upper-body plumage, sometimes the tail, and some of the wing coverts. but this is almost immediately preceded by the delayed molt of the remiges in january and february, so that it seems to be a nearly complete prenuptial molt, which is barely finished before the birds start on their long northward migration. the postnuptial molt of adults, beginning in august and often lasting into october, involves only the body plumage, the tail, and some scapulars, tertials, and wing coverts. the gray winter plumage, so different from the brightly colored spring plumage, is seldom seen in its completeness before the birds go south. _food._--very little seems to have been published on the food of the white-rumped sandpiper, but w. l. mcatee (1911) gives it credit for eating some injurious insects and worms, such as grasshoppers, the clover-root curculio, which is injurious to clover, and marine worms (_nereis_), which prey on oysters. stuart t. danforth (1925) says that four collected in porto rico- had eaten 77.7 per cent of animal food and 22.3 per cent of vegetable matter. fifty per cent of the animal matter consisted of bloodworms, 25 per cent of planorbis snails, and 5 per cent of _corixa reticulata_. the vegetable matter consisted entirely of seeds, of which those of compositae formed 33.3 per cent, _sesban emerus_ 30 per cent, and _persicaria portoricensis_ 36.7 per cent. in addition to food, the stomachs contained mineral matter (coarse red sand) forming 32.5 per cent of the stomach contents. _behavior._--lucien m. turner, who has had abundant opportunity to observe this species in ungava, writes in his notes: the flight of these birds is remarkably firm and swift, generally in an undulatory manner and swerving to the right or left often with the body inclined to one side, the wing nearly perpendicular, alternately presenting the upper and lower surface of the body. just before alighting the wings are raised until the tips nearly touch over the back and for a moment held outstretched and then slowly folded. the bird is quite active while searching for food and seldom remains more than a few seconds in a spot, where it constantly picks here and there for the minute organisms which form its food. during this time all is activity and quite in contrast to the interval while the tide is high and the bird is on the high land resting and digesting its food. here it is more sleepy and less easily disturbed. the eyesight of these sandpipers is certainly very acute, as they are able to detect the presence of a person at a long distance and give a twittering, snipey note, otherwise regardless of approaching danger. in all their doings the utmost harmony seems to prevail. the only object of their lives seems to be to gather food. no sooner does the water begin to ebb than a few of these birds will swish over some point of land with merry twittering, eagerly scanning the bank for the least appearance of mud now being exposed. by the time the tide has half ebbed myriads of these birds are sweeping back and forth along the river. as the water shallows over well known bars, and scarcely has the water shoaled enough to permit the birds to alight without swimming, than as many sandpipers as can collect on the place eagerly alight and begin probing the ooze for food. the lowering water is followed by the thronging birds to the last inch. the flowing tide begins and the birds retreat carefully seizing every object of food that the rising water brings to the surface. often they are so eager in their search that many birds are crowded into the deeper water and save themselves only by flight. this or that place is quickly covered over by the water and again the birds collect into larger flocks which now sway to the right or left, alternately, exposing their silvery white underparts which gleam in the sunshine like a stream of silver. the gray or brown of their backs relieving the color as the long stream of birds pass by. they partially halt their flight and become a compact flock, whereupon they separate into smaller flocks which, as the water gradually rises and covers their feeding grounds, now betake themselves to the higher lands of the banks above. here, around the pools on the highlands, or among the grassy margins of the lakes, they collect to wash themselves and digest the food they have obtained from the salt-water mud. as a person approaches one of these pools, in the latter part of august, little suspecting that anything will be found near them, these birds turn their backs, which so closely resemble the lichen covered granite as to render the birds indistinguishable. a nearer approach and they present their white breasts which afford a striking contrast with the surroundings. in a moment they run together and huddle into a compact flock before they take wing. i have, by firing at the proper moment, secured every individual composing a flock of over a dozen birds. if they fly they take to their wings with a sudden impulse and fly in a zigzag movement for a few yards then swerve to right or left continuing until another locality is reached, where they sit quietly until approached. this is repeated every tide and, as the birds are crepuscular also in their habits, their opportunities for becoming fat are nearly doubled. they acquire the fat in a short time. the thickness of the layer is often one-fourth of an inch and completely envelops the body. the least abrasion of the skin or a shot hole soon fills the surrounding parts with oil which has exuded from the wound, making the preparation of skins for specimens a very difficult matter. the flesh of these birds is peculiarly tender and richly flavored. at times i have gone out to shoot these birds for the table and with five discharges (of half an ounce of no. 12 shot) i secured on one occasion 82 birds. a heavy stick thrown in among them as they wade along the water's edge also knocks many of them over, for these birds seem so intent on procuring food that but little heed is given to the hunter. william brewster (1925) says: invariably among the tamest and most confiding of our so-called shore birds, they will usually permit one to approach, either on foot or in a boat, within 5 or 6 yards, while i have known a gun to be discharged into a flock with fatal effect, but without causing any of the birds which escaped injury to take wing. like most obese creatures they are habitually sluggish, confining their wanderings afoot to limited areas, and exploiting these very deliberately, walking slowly and sedately in crouching attitudes, with measured steps, frequently stopping to thrust their bills listlessly a little way into the soft ground, or to pick up small morsels of food from the surface. occasionally, however, one may see them running to and fro over the mud quite briskly and ceaselessly, perhaps incited to this comparatively unusual behavior by the example of other waders feeding close about them, for they are by no means averse to the companionship of several of the lesser kinds, such as semipalmated plover and sandpipers, grass-birds, dunlins, etc. although somewhat loath to take wing, even when threatened by obvious danger, they are likely to fly swiftly and far, when once started, doubling and circling over the marshes in much the same manner as other small sandpipers. john t. nichols, says in his notes: when startled, a bird has been seen to crouch down concealing the bulk of its white underparts and practically disappear against the brightly lighted mud flat on which it had been feeding. this is a habit shared by its close relatives the pectoral and least sandpipers. _voice._--the white-rumped sandpiper is ordinarily a rather silent bird, but its short, sharp flight note is characteristic of the species and serves to distinguish it readily in the field. to me it sounds like _tzeep_ or _tzip_; mr. nichols calls it "a squeaky mouse-like _jeet_"; mr. brewster (1925) describes it as "a feeble lisping _zip_ or _tsip_, fringilline, rather than limicoline, in character"; and doctor townsend (1905) thinks that "it suggests at times the call note of the pipit." c. j. maynard (1896) refers to "one cry in particular, being loudly given and greatly prolonged, resembling the scream of a rapacious bird more than the whistle of a sandpiper." _field marks._--the best field mark for this species is the white rump, or rather upper tail-coverts; this is conspicuous in flight but is usually concealed by the wings when the bird is on the ground. i have noticed that, while the bird is standing with its side toward me, the gray of the upper parts extend down on the sides of the neck as far as the bend of the wing, whereas in the semipalmated sandpiper, with which it might be confused, there is a decided white space in front of the wing. mr. nichols says in his notes: this bird is a size larger than least or semipalmated sandpipers, and at favorable angles shows a diagnostic white patch crossing above the rather dark tail. this white patch is a good example of color which apparently functions as a recognition mark. if the same were fortuitous one would not expect the tail to be darker than in related species, as is the case, causing the white rump to show more prominently. straight bill, (or with slight decurviture at the tip, like that of the pectoral sandpiper) and as a rule finely and sharply streaked head and breast prevent chance of confusion with the european curlew sandpiper, of casual occurrence on our atlantic coast. _fall._--the beginning of the fall flight is apparently southeastward from its breeding grounds west of hudson bay and perhaps southward from baffin island, where it breeds. mr. turner's ungava notes give a very good idea of this first step in the migration and a good impression of the great abundance of this species; he writes: as i proceeded farther northward i did not observe a single one of these sandpipers until we came to anchor off the mouth of georges river (july 31) where quite a number were seen on the pebbly beach, seeking their food among the rocks and shingle as the tide receded. at this date quite a number, in fact fully three-fourths, of those seen were birds of the year as was fully attested by traces of downy plumage yet among the feathers of the body and especially on the head and neck. the sizes of the flocks varied from three or four to nearly a dozen, doubtless consisting of a single brood or, in the case of the larger flocks, of two or more broods with their parents. some of the younger members of the flocks had the wing quills not fully developed while others were considerably farther advanced. such a variation of plumage both in age and coloration was exhibited that i presumed there must be two weeks difference in the ages of the different young. by the 10th of august all the young are well able to fly and make protracted flights in search of food. by this date they assemble in flocks, amounting at times, to thousands of individuals, resorting to the mud flats left bare by the receding tide. the mouth of the koksoak and the cove to the westward of it present excellent tracts of mud deposited in the little indentations. by the middle of september these birds begin to depart to the south. many of them ascended the koksoak and others doubtless followed the windings of the coast down the atlantic. i have seen numerous flocks over a hundred miles from the mouth of the river as late as october 12th, and an occasional single bird as late as the 20th of that month. i have observed, at the mouth of the koksoak river, flocks of these birds often numbering over a hundred individuals suddenly appear from high in the air. these i suspected to be birds coming from the regions to the northward of the strait for they always came from the sea. thence there is an overland flight to the atlantic coast. mr. brewster (1925) says: white-rumped sandpipers visit lake umbagog regularly and not infrequently, if rather sparingly, in autumn, appearing oftenest during the month of october. those arriving early in the season are mostly adult birds which occur singly or two or three together; those coming later are of various ages and sometimes in flocks containing as many as eight or nine members each, but rarely, if ever, a greater number. bonaparte's sandpipers are hardy birds. they may be seen at the lake when its bordering marshes are stiff with frost. once (october 26, 1883) i found nine of them near the mouth of cambridge river two days after the entire region had been covered with snow to a depth of 7 inches. this bird is a regular, but never an abundant, migrant on the coast of massachusetts in the fall. the vast numbers which turner saw in ungava must seek some other route; the species is never abundant in the interior in the fall and it seems to be rather rare on the atlantic coast south of new england; the natural inference is that it migrates at sea from maine or nova scotia directly to south america or the west indies. it is abundant at times in bermuda. the adults begin to reach cape cod in august, but the main flight comes in september, consisting partially of young birds; most of the young birds come in october and some linger as late as november 10. while with us the white-rumped sandpiper frequents the wet meadows and marshes near the shore, as well as the sand flats, mud flats, and beaches, feeding at low tide singly or in small flocks and usually associated with pectoral, semipalmated, or least sandpipers. during high tides, while the flats are covered, this species may be seen on the high sandy beaches, mixed in with the vast flocks of small shorebirds, sleeping, or resting, or preening their plumage, while waiting for feeding time to come again; if the wind is blowing, all the birds are facing it; many are crouching on the sand and others are standing on one leg with the bill tucked under the scapulars. these flocks often contain hundreds and sometimes thousands of birds, mainly semipalmated sandpipers, semipalmated plover, and sanderlings. they are not all asleep, however, for if approached too closely, they all rise and whirl away in a vast shimmering cloud, flashing now white and now dark as they turn, and settle on the beach again at no great distance. _winter._--august finds the white-rumped sandpiper migrating along the coast of brazil and it has been known to reach cape horn as early as september 9. doctor wetmore (1926) writes: the white-rumped sandpiper was the most abundant of the migrant shore birds in the regions visited in southern south america. the species was not recorded until september 6, 1920, when it appeared in abundance in southward migration on the lagoons at kilometer 80, west of puerto pinasco, paraguay. the first flocks from which specimens were taken were adult females, and two taken on the date when they were first recorded had laid eggs a few weeks previous as was shown by the appearance of the ovaries. the southward migration came with a rush as the birds passed through the night as witnessed by their calls. the flight continued until september 21, when a dozen, the last seen here, were recorded. the birds circled about lagoons in small compact flocks or walked along on muddy shores, where they fed with head down, probing rapidly in the soft mud; anything edible encountered was seized and swallowed and the bird continued without delay in its search for more. farther south this species was encountered in abundance in its winter range on the pampa. ten were recorded at dolores, buenos aires, october 21, and from october 22 to november 15 the species was found in numbers on the coastal mud flats on the bay of samborombom. a few were seen at pools of water in the sand dunes below cape san antonio. along the rio ajo white-rumped sandpipers were encountered in flocks of hundreds that came upstream to search the mud flats at low tide or were concentrated on bars at the mouth when the water was high. in early morning there was a steady flight of them passing to suitable feeding grounds. the birds flew swiftly, with soft notes, from 3 to 15 feet from the earth. in feeding they scattered out in little groups that covered the bare mud systematically. it was not unusual to record as many as 2,000 in a day. about two hundred were observed in the bay at ingeniero white, the port of bahia blanca, on december 13, and at carhue, buenos aires, from december 16 to 18, white-rumped sandpipers were noted in fair numbers on inundated ground back of the shore of lake epiquen or about fresh-water ponds on the pampa inland. none were found in uruguay during february. ernest gibson (1920) says of this species, at cape san antonio, buenos aires: this is certainly our commonest wader, and is found everywhere in flocks, from, say, the end of october to the middle or end of march. the number in these gatherings is only restricted by the area of the feeding ground; hence, when large mud flats are available in the vicinity of our fresh or salt water lagunas and cangrejales, or at the subsidence of a flood, the flocks are sometimes of enormous size. the observer may see many acres of ground which look to be in continuous movement, the surface being alive with the restless throng of sandpipers running about and chasing each other, feeding, or taking constant short flights. distribution _range._--north and south america; casual in europe. _breeding range._--although the white-rumped sandpiper has been noted in summer from wainwright, alaska, east to southern greenland (julianshaab), the only places where eggs have been taken are point barrow, alaska; herschel island, yukon; taylor island, victoria land; fort anderson and rendezvous lake, mackenzie; and the southeast shore of lake nettilling, baffin island. _winter range._--north to paraguay (rio pilcomayo and rio parana); and uruguay (montevideo). east to uruguay (montevideo); argentina (la plata, cape san antonio, bahia blanca, rio chubut, and puerto san julian); the falkland islands; and tierra del fuego. south to tierra fuego; and southern chile (straits of magellan). west to chile (straits of magellan and santiago); and paraguay (rio pilcomayo). _spring migration._--early dates of spring arrival are: florida, de funiak springs, may 12; georgia, savannah, may 17; south carolina, mount pleasant, may 7, frogmore, may 7, and charleston, may 16; north carolina, cape hatteras, may 2, churchs island, may 6, and pea and brodie islands, may 15; virginia, smith's island, may 14; district of columbia, washington, may 11; new jersey, long beach, may 9, trenton, may 12, and bernardsville, may 14; new york, mastic, may 11, canandaigua, may 19, rockaway beach, may 21, and freeport, may 22; connecticut, middletown, may 10, and new haven, may 19; rhode island, block island, may 16; massachusetts, melrose, may 9, and harvard, may 20; vermont, woodstock, may 14, brattleboro, may 18, and rutland, may 19; maine, scarboro, may 29; quebec, godbout, may 24, and quebec city, may 27; louisiana, lobdell, may 14; kentucky, bowling green, april 27; missouri, jacks fork, may 15, and sand ridge, may 16; illinois, de kalb, may 8, and elgin, may 11; ohio, canton, may 8, berlin center, may 11, and youngstown, may 17; michigan, detroit, may 6; ontario, toronto, may 26; iowa, marshalltown, may 4, and sioux city, may 7; wisconsin, whitewater, april 28; minnesota, wilder, may 5, jackson, may 13, and heron lake, may 19; texas, brownsville, april 11, and ingram, may 8; kansas, emporia, may 4, lawrence, may 5, and topeka, may 7; nebraska, neligh, may 1, and peru, may 13; south dakota, sioux falls, may 5, and vermilion, may 9; manitoba, whitewater lake, may 12; saskatchewan, ravenscrag, may 13; and mackenzie, fort resolution, may 19, and fort simpson, may 26. late dates of spring departure from the wintering grounds are: argentina, french bay, march 7, and guamini, march 8. in north america, late dates are: south carolina, mount pleasant, may 30, and frogmore, may 31; north carolina, raleigh, may 24, and lake ellis, june 15; virginia, smith's island, june 7; delaware, lewes, june 8; pennsylvania, erie, june 4; new jersey, bernardsville, may 24, and camden, may 24; new york, castleton, june 2, and long beach, june 20; massachusetts, harvard, june 4; illinois, waukegan, june 9; ohio, painesville, june 14, and lakeside, june 25; ontario, toronto, june 21; iowa, sioux city, may 30, and keokuk, june 5; wisconsin, madison, may 30; minnesota, hallock, june 8; texas, lomita, may 22, and gainesville, may 24; kansas, fort riley, may 22 and stafford county, june 6; nebraska, lincoln, may 20, republican fork, may 25, and valentine, may 25; south dakota, forestburg, may 27, and vermilion, june 5; north dakota, charlson, june 1; manitoba, reaburn, june 6, duck mountain, june 8, and shoal lake, june 20; and saskatchewan, kutanajan lake, june 9, and quill lake, june 10. _fall migration._--early fall arrivals are: saskatchewan, indian head, july 1; texas, tivoli, august 17; minnesota, st. vincent, august 4; wisconsin, lake koshkonong, august 1; iowa, marshalltown, august 19, and keokuk, august 21; ontario, toronto, august 23; michigan, lansing, july 29; massachusetts, marthas vineyard, july 16, and ipswich, july 24; rhode island, providence, july 18, and block island, july 27; new york, orient, july 24; new jersey, long beach, july 7; pennsylvania, erie, august 29; florida, palma sola, august 27; paraguay, near puerto pinasco, september 6; and patagonia, orange bay, september 9. late departures in the fall are: mackenzie, slave river, october 1; saskatchewan, eastend, september 12; manitoba, shoal lake, september 21; minnesota, hallock, october 16; iowa, marshalltown, november 7; ontario, toronto, november 2, and ottawa, november 5; ohio, columbus, october 28, and north lima, october 29; ungava, koksoak river, october 20; baffin island, pangnirtung fiord, september 25; labrador, battle harbor, october 29; and quebec, montreal, october 31; maine, lake umbagog, october 14, and bangor, october 23; massachusetts, lynn, october 12, boston, october 22, harvard, october 24, and cape cod, november 10; connecticut, branford, october 23, and east hartford, october 30; new york, ithaca, october 16, quogue, october 30, shinnecock bay, october 30, oneida lake, november 3, and canandaigua, november 4; pennsylvania, philadelphia, october 10, and erie, october 29; district of columbia, anacostia, october 24; virginia, lake drummond, november 5; ohio, columbus, november 15; north carolina, church's island, october 7, and raleigh, december 7; south carolina, mount pleasant, october 17, and frogmore, october 24; georgia, savannah, october 9; and florida, st. augustine, december 2. _casual records._--although probably on the migrational highway, records of the white-rumped sandpiper in central america, the west indies, and lesser antilles are so few that in these places it can only be considered as a casual visitor. specimens are in the british museum from lion hill, panama; momotombo, nicaragua; and tizimin and cozumel island, mexico. it also has been observed or taken on the islands of barbados (september 20 and 22, year?); dominica (november 5, 1904); st. lucia; guadeloupe; martinique; trinidad; porto rico (mayaguez, october 2, 1900, and culebrita, april 15, 1912); cuba; the bahamas (inagua, may 27, 1879, and fortune island, august 5, 1876); and the bermuda islands. examples were reported from the yellowstone river, montana, august 8 to 13, 1878; it has been taken at laramie, wyo.; in new mexico (fort fillmore, october, 1852, and zuni mountains, september 16, 1851); and there are several records for eastern colorado. the specimen reported from oakland, calif., was probably the pectoral sandpiper, _p. maculata_. one was taken at hopedale, labrador. white-rumped sandpipers have been reported in the british isles fourteen or fifteen times and a specimen was taken in franz josef land on june 28 (year unknown, but prior to 1898). _egg dates._--arctic canada: 14 records, june 15 to july 24; 7 records, june 30 to july 12. alaska: 2 records, june 25. pisobia bairdi (coues) baird sandpiper habits _spring._--this sandpiper belongs to that class of birds which abel chapman (1924) so aptly terms "globe spanners," for on its migrations its traverses the whole length of both american continents twice a year. from its wintering grounds in patagonia it must start north even earlier than the preceding species or else it must travel faster. dr. alexander wetmore (1926) observed it migrating past buenos aires on march 5 in company with white-rumped sandpipers, and it has been known to reach texas early in march. from there its course seems to be northward between the mississippi river and the rocky mountains. a.g. lawrence tells me that it passes through manitoba between april 28 and may 29; and j.a. munro gives me, as his spring dates for southern british columbia, april 30 to may 10. prof. william rowan (mss.) calls it extremely abundant in alberta about the middle of may and usually gone by the 24th. it is very rare east of the mississippi in the spring. e.a. preble (1908) saw large flocks foraging on floating ice at lake athabaska on may 25. dr. joseph grinnell (1900) records it at the kowak river, alaska, on may 20. joseph dixon (1917) says: on may 31, 1914, at griffin point, arctic alaska, the first pair of baird sandpipers for the season were noted feeding along the rim of a frozen tundra pond. the weather had turned bitterly cold during the previous night, and as a result the newly formed ice on the ponds was thick enough to support a man. strictly speaking, there was no night at this date, for the two months of continuous daylight had already begun; so in a short time the sandpipers were bustling about picking up the mosquito and other pupae which were being washed out by a newly-born stream that gurgled under the snow and ice on its way down to the frozen lagoon. _courtship._--two somewhat different accounts of the courtship of this species have been published. w. sprague brooks (1915), who found this bird breeding at demarcation point, alaska, writes: only once did i note any courtship activity. on this occasion (may 24), the male would fly a few feet above the female, while she rested on the ground, with quick erratic wing strokes suggesting a nighthawk. frequently he would alight and raise the wings high over the back as a gull does before folding them. then with the forearms perpendicular, the primaries would be slowly raised and lowered like a pump handle, generally lowered to right angles with the forearms, sometimes lower. not a sound was uttered. alfred m. bailey (1926), whose observations were made at cape prince of wales, alaska, says: cutting down the opposite side of the ridge, i heard many calls which reminded me of home in the early spring, for the combined totals sounded like the singing of many little grass frogs in a meadow pond. it was the call, or rather the "spring song," of the baird sandpiper. i soon flushed a little female, which fluttered away uttering cries of alarm. i concealed myself, and she soon returned, the male also hovering about, making his little froglike peep. at times he would rise high in the air, in the way so characteristic of male sandpipers, give forth his song, and sail down to perch. _nesting._--macfarlane's notes mention seven nests found in the vicinity of franklin bay, but very few data were given; "on june 24, 1864, a nest containing four eggs was found in the barren grounds, in a swampy tract between two small lakes, and was composed of a few decayed leaves placed in a small cavity or depression in the ground, shaded by a tuft of grass." john murdoch (1885) says: the nest was always well hidden in the grass and never placed in marshy ground or on the bare black parts of tundra, and consists merely of a slight depression in the ground, thinly lined with dried grass. all the eggs we found were obtained from the last week in june to the first week of july, a trifle later than the other waders. the sitting female when disturbed exhibits the greatest solicitude, running about with drooping, outspread wings, and loud outcry, and uses every possible wile to attract the intruder from the eggs. the nest is so well concealed and forms so inconspicuous an object that the only practical way to secure the eggs is to withdraw to one side and allow the sitting bird to return, carefully marking where she alights. having done this on one occasion and failing to find the eggs, after flushing the bird two or three times i discovered that i had walked on the eggs, though i had been looking for them most carefully. mr. brooks (1915) writes: two nests were found, each containing four eggs and about one quarter incubated on june 12 and 14, 1914. murdoch found them nesting rather later than other waders at point barrow, but my experience at demarcation point was quite the opposite, for here they were the first to breed. a female taken june 2, had a fully formed and colored egg about ready to lay. both of the above nests were on dry, well-drained tundra near the bases of knolls. the nests were like the other sandpipers, and lined with dry willow leaves, but the cavities were less deep than those of the semipalmated sandpiper. the female was on one nest and the male on the other. the former left the nest when i was some distance away and flying directly toward me alighted within a few feet. while i was at the nest she walked hurriedly about close by constantly uttering a plaintive _weet-weet-weet_ always repeated three times. occasionally she would take a short flight about me and utter a note very similar to the rattling call of the pectoral sandpiper. the male when disturbed acted quite differently. he sat closer and on leaving the nest showed the greatest concern, dragging a "broken" wing in the most distressing manner. in neither case was the mate about as frequently occurs with the semipalmated sandpiper. mr. dixon (1917) says: at griffin point, less than 50 miles to the eastward of demarcation point, the first set of eggs (fresh) was taken on june 24. the last set was found july 11, with the four eggs nearly ready to hatch. murdoch speaks of the nests being well concealed and always hidden in the grass. in those nests which we found, no attempt had been made at such concealment, as they were placed absolutely in the open, with nothing to cover or conceal the eggs at all, and the nests so shallow that the tops of the eggs were almost or quite level with the surrounding grass. far from being conspicuously exposed thereby, however, the eggs were shielded from discovery in the most effective manner possible, for in color and markings they blended so perfectly with the brown tundra that a person could easily look directly at them from a distance of 6 feet and still not be able to see them. this method of nesting seems to be the most effective way of escaping one great danger at least, namely, the notice of the countless jaegers, both parasitic and pomarine. these robbers subsist almost entirely during the breeding period on the young and eggs of other birds, and cruise continually back and forth over the sandpipers' nesting ground, looking for the least telltale feather, bit of wind-blown down, or other object which might afford a clue to the whereabouts of a nest. herbert w. brandt found only one nest of the baird sandpiper near hooper bay, alaska, which he tells me- was on a dry mossy ridge amid the dunes and was partially concealed by the surrounding curly grass. it was flimsily constructed of grass stems and filled with a scant handful of small leaves of the dwarf birch and blueberry, together with a few adjacent reindeer-moss stems. the measurements of this nest were: inside diameter 2-1/2 inches, and depth perhaps 2 inches. _eggs._--the baird sandpiper lays ordinarily four eggs, occasionally only three. these vary in shape from ovate or ovate pyriform to subovate, and they have a slight gloss. in color they often resemble certain types of western sandpipers' eggs, as they are usually of a decidedly reddish tone; but they are considerably larger. the ground color varies from "pinkish buff" to "pale pinkish buff" or from "olive buff" to "cartridge buff." three quite different types are represented in my collection. in the western sandpiper type the "pinkish buff" ground color is quite evenly covered over the whole egg with small, elongated spots, somewhat thicker at the larger end and having a spiral tendency, of "hay's russet" and "chestnut brown," with a few underlying spots of "brownish drab." another set has a "cartridge buff" ground color, which is unevenly covered, chiefly at the larger end, with small spots of duller browns, "bister," "saccardo's umber," and light shades of "brownish drab." this seems to be the commonest type. an unusually beautiful set has a "pinkish buff" ground color, sparingly sprinkled with minute brown dots and boldly blotched with great, irregular splashes of deep, rich browns, "chestnut," "chocolate," and "liver brown," overlying large splashes of various shades of "vinaceous gray." the measurements of 54 eggs average 33.1 by 23.8 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =33.5= by 24.4, 34.3 by =24.6= and =30= by =22= millimeters. _young._--incubation is shared by both sexes, but we have no data as to its duration. mr. dixon (1917) found the male bird covering the eggs more often than the female, and others have reported finding the male caring for the young. mr. dixon (1917) says of the young: the young sandpipers were found feeding in the shallower pools, where the water was less than 1 inch deep. at times as many as five were noted in an area 1 yard square. they congregated along the water's edge, picking up, as the tide slowly receded, many bits of food. the nature of this provender i could not make out, although the young birds would often come within 20 feet of me when i remained motionless for a few minutes. the old birds were much more shy, often taking flight or retreating to distant gravel bars upon my approach. considerable time was spent by both young and old in making short flights about the harbor. these flights alternated with periods of food getting, and were seemingly in preparation for the fall migration. it was only a few days then until the bulk of the species left on their southward journey. _plumages._--the downy young baird sandpiper is well colored to escape detection on the brown tundra moss. the crown and upper parts are variegated with black and "tawny" in an irregular pattern and dotted with white terminal tufts; the crown is centrally "tawny," with a median black stripe, and is bordered with black; the forehead, back to eyes, sides of the head and all under parts are pure white; there is a black spot in the center of the forehead, a black stripe from the bill, through the eye, to the occiput and another below it and parallel to it; there is a white superciliary stripe and some white mottling on the back of the head and neck. the juvenal plumage is equally concealing. the crown is sepia with buffy edgings; the back and scapulars are dark sepia with broad white edgings; the wing is like the adult except that the coverts and tertials are edged with "pinkish buff" and tipped with white; the under parts are like the adult but the breast is more pinkish buff and more faintly streaked. a partial postjuvenal molt, including most of the body plumage and some of the scapulars, wing coverts, and tertials and takes place in october or later. i have seen birds in full juvenal plumage as late as october 3; young birds migrate in this plumage. at the first prenuptial molt the following spring young birds become indistinguishable from adults. adults have a partial prenuptial molt in april and may, including only part of the body plumage. the postnuptial molt begins in july, when the body plumage is molted before the birds migrate; the wings are molted after the birds reach their winter home, from december to february, not long before they started to migrate north again. i have seen birds in full nuptial plumage as early as may 1 and as late as july 29, and in full winter plumage as late as april 5. the adult nuptial and winter plumages are somewhat different; the colors are brighter and richer in the spring and the markings are more distinct; in the fall the upper parts are nearly uniformly buffy brownish with dusky shaft streaks; the chest and sides of the breast are dull brownish buff and not distinctly streaked. _food._--preble and mcatee (1923) found in the stomachs of three baird sandpipers, taken on the pribilof islands, amphipods, algae, ground beetles, and a weevil. mr. mcatee (1911) includes this species among those that eat mosquito larvae, crane-fly larvae, grasshoppers, and the clover-root curculio, all injurious insects. it feeds on the open mud flats with other species of sandpipers, but seems to prefer to feed about the edges of the shallow inland pools or where the muddy flats are partially overgrown with grass. william brewster (1925) watched some of them feeding, of which he says: on first noticing me draw near they stood erect, with upstretched necks, regarding me intently and distrustfully, but their feeding operations were resumed soon after i ceased to advance. by successive runs, 8 or 10 feet in length and often executed very swiftly, they moved about quickly in various directions over soft mud or through shallow water, frequently stooping to pick up small morsels of food, but not once using their bills for probing under ground or water. _voice._--dr. charles w. townsend (1905) says that the note, which he heard several times, seemed to him "exactly like that of the semipalmated sandpiper, a rather shrill, trilling whistle." mr. brewster (1925) says that- the _kreep_ call they utter in flight is sufficiently unlike that of any other wader of similar size and general coloring to be of service as a means of field identification when the birds are seen on wing. it is appreciably different from the call of any other sandpiper known to me, although not so very unlike that of the sanderling. _field marks._--the baird sandpiper is one of the most difficult of all this group to recognize in the field, because it has no prominent distinguishing field marks peculiar to itself. it has characters in common with any one of several small sandpipers. in color and general appearance it is most like the least sandpiper; it is decidedly larger, but size is of little value unless the two are side by side for comparison; it is lighter colored above, more extensively buffy on the breast, and has darker legs. it is a size larger than the semipalmated and western sandpipers, more buffy on the breast than either, and has a shorter bill in proportion to its size than the latter. it is about the size of the white-rumped sandpiper, but is less distinctly streaked on the crown and back; the buff breast of the baird will distinguish it when standing or even in flight; and the white rump of _fuscicollis_ is a sure flight mark when visible. from the red-backed sandpiper, about the same size, it can be distinguished by its shorter and straighter bill and by marked color differences. it might be mistaken for a female pectoral, but the latter is more conspicuously striped above, more like a snipe in this respect, the crown is darker, more contrasted, and the breast is darker, more abruptly separated from the white belly, and more sharply streaked with dusky; when flying the pectoral shows more white in the wings. the baird is but slightly smaller than the buff-breasted sandpiper and very much like it; but prof. william rowan (mss.) has pointed out some differences. the patterns of the backs are very similar, but the buff breasted has a much paler crown and lacks the white throat and eye stripe, as well as the clear-cut white sides and black center of the rump of the baird. the buff breasted has yellow legs and the baird has black. the baird shows no white in the wings in flight. young bairds in juvenal plumage are easily recognized by the scaled appearance of the mantle produced by dark feathers with broad white edges. _fall._--baird sandpipers leave their northern breeding grounds rather early. mr. murdoch (1885) reported the last one seen at point barrow on august 12, and mr. dixon (1917) saw none after august 15 in northern alaska. e. a. preble (1908) saw several flocks on migration at great slave lake as early as july 10. the main flight seems to be directly south through the mackenzie valley and between the rocky mountains and the mississippi river to mexico and south america, where it probably migrates down the west coast to its winter home. but the route is also extended both east and west in the fall. some birds fly southeastward, through the great lakes, to the coast of new england, whence they apparently migrate over the ocean to south america. others migrate southward through the extreme western states. mr. brewster (1925) says that they "visit lake umbagog (maine) early in september, appearing oftenest during the first week in the month." my massachusetts dates run from august 7 to september 15. e. w. hadeler records it in his ohio notes from september 2 to october 11; and edward s. thomas has seen it there as early as august 12. it is an abundant migrant in manitoba; we collected adults there on july 29; and c. g. harrold tells me that birds passing through in august and september are practically all juveniles. professor rowan refers to it as probably the most plentiful wader in alberta in the first half of september; he has taken it there as late as november 8. j. a. munro calls it a regular fall migrant at okanagan landing, british columbia; his earliest and latest dates are july 16 and september 18. j. h. bowles (1918) observed it on the tacoma flats, washington, from july 26 to september 5, and says: they were found in singles, pairs, or trios, most often associating with the semipalmated plover (_aegialitis semipalmata_) when any were to be found. when flying with a company of the other small sandpipers they would separate as soon as the flock alighted to feed, the baird's going to comparatively dry ground for their food while the others waded about in the water and at the water's edge. they could not have been called common, but from one to three or four were to be found on almost any day. john t. nichols has observed baird sandpipers on the pacific ocean and writes to me as follows: august 6, 1926, 52â° 19' n., 137â° 42' w., three to six birds of this species came about a ship bound southeast for seattle, flying with and parallel to her course. one, apparently misjudging her speed, was killed by striking the rigging forward. perhaps the baird sandpiper is comparatively scarce on the pacific coast due to an offshore migration route. _winter._--according to prof. wells w. cooke (1912) this sandpiper reaches its winter home in september. chile seems to be its principal winter home, where it has been taken repeatedly in the high mountains at 10,000 to 12,000 feet and once at over 13,000. distribution _range._--northeastern asia and north and south america; accidental in england. _breeding range._--north to the northeastern coast of siberia (probably koliutschin island and cape serdze kamen); northern alaska (wainwright, point barrow, camden bay, barter island, and demarcation point); yukon (herschel island); mackenzie (franklin bay, baillie island, and cambridge bay); and southern baffin island. east to baffin island and probably greenland (etah). south to mackenzie (cambridge bay, bernard harbor, fort anderson, and peel river); and alaska (cape prince of wales and point dall). west to alaska (cape prince of wales and point dall); and northeastern siberia (probably koliutschin island). _winter range._--north to chile (tarapaca); and argentina (tucuman, cordoba, and buenos aires). east to argentina (buenos aires). south to argentina (buenos aires); and chile (talcahuano). west to chile (talcahuano, huasco, and tarapaca). _spring migration._--in spring the baird sandpiper is practically unknown on the atlantic coast, the route being up the mississippi valley, the plains states, and (to a lesser degree) the pacific coast. early dates of arrival are: missouri, monteer, march 20, and near boonville, april 16; ohio, painesville, april 25, oberlin, april 28, and cleveland, may 8; michigan, vicksburg, april 15; iowa, sioux city, april 9, mason city, april 19, and marshalltown, april 25; minnesota, waseca, may 10, and hutchinson, may 18; texas, boerne, march 16, and electra, april 9; kansas, emporia, march 27; nebraska, gibbon, march 19, lincoln, march 23, and callaway, april 7; south dakota, forestburg, april 6, and brown county, april 18; north dakota, jamestown, may 1, and charlson, may 4; saskatchewan, indian head, may 9, and orestwynd, may 10; mackenzie, fort resolution, may 19, fort simpson, may 20, and fort providence, may 26; arizona, fort verde, may 5; colorado, loveland, march 29; wyoming, cheyenne, april 8, and laramie, april 23; montana, knowlton, may 12, and bitterroot valley, may 18; alberta, flagstaff, april 16, alliance, april 24, and fort chipewyan, may 24; california, santa barbara, april 27; washington, dayton, april 11; british columbia, chilliwack, april 29, and okanagan landing, april 30; and alaska, admiralty island, may 12, kowak river, may 20, demarcation point, may 23, nulato, may 27, cape prince of wales, may 28, and point barrow, may 29. late dates of spring departure are: mexico, city of mexico, may 19; guerrero, iguala, june 1; ohio, youngstown, june 2; michigan, detroit, may 24; iowa, sioux city, june 6; texas, san angelo, may 15, and ingram, may 26; kansas, wichita, may 20; nebraska, neligh, may 26, and valentine, may 30; south dakota, vermilion, may 24, and sioux falls, june 11; north dakota, charlson, may 22, and jamestown, june 4; saskatchewan, indian head, june 2, and quill lake, june 16; wyoming, yellowstone park, june 3; alberta, fort chipewyan, june 1; and british columbia, okanagan landing, may 10, vaseaux lake, may 18, and sumas, may 19. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrival are: british columbia, okanagan landing, july 7; washington, wrights peak, july 21, blaine, august 4, and tacoma, august 6; california, santa barbara, july 25; lower california, san jose del cabo, september 3; alberta, strathmore, july 31; wyoming, toltec, july 27; colorado, denver, july 21, boulder county, july 27, and el paso county, july 29; saskatchewan, maple creek, july 17; manitoba, oak lake, july 12, and red deer river, july 23; south dakota, forestburg, july 25; nebraska, callaway, august 4, and lincoln, august 9; texas, san angelo, july 20; ontario, toronto, july 28; michigan, charity island, july 9; ohio, bay point, july 3; illinois, chicago, july 2; massachusetts, monomoy island, july 14; new york, montauk, august 14, locust grove, august 18, onondaga lake, august 27; pennsylvania, beaver, august 21, erie, august 22; mexico, zacatecas, august 16, colonia garcia, september 4, and janos river, september 5; and patagonia, arroyo seco, rio negro, september 6, and huanuluan, september 12. late dates of fall departures are: alaska, point barrow, september 4; british columbia, comox, september 15, and okanagan landing, october 18; washington, tacoma, september 27; oregon, netarts bay, september 12; california, monterey, october 24; colorado, boulder county, september 25, and barr, october 5; saskatchewan, indian head, september 21; manitoba, oak lake, september 5, and shoal lake, september 14; north dakota, charlson, september 21; nebraska, valentine, october 10, and lincoln, november 3; kansas, lawrence, october 26; texas, tom green and concho counties, october 20; iowa, burlington, october 2, and keokuk, october 14; ontario, st. thomas, october 3, toronto, october 10, and plover mills, october 20; ohio, painesville, october 11, and new bremen, october 28; illinois, chicago, october 2; missouri, independence, october 13; maine, warren island, september 20, and bangor, november 1; massachusetts, cambridge, october 30; connecticut, west haven, october 28, and stratford, november 3; new york, shinnecock bay, october 31, and canandaigua, november 20; and pennsylvania, erie, october 6. _casual records._--the baird sandpiper has several times been taken or observed in various parts of mexico so that it seems reasonable to believe that at least a part of the birds migrate over that country. in other central american countries and in the west indies it is rare. among the records are: costa rica (cerro de la candelaria, october 1900, volcano irazu, june 8, 1894, la estrella de cartago, november 5, 1907, and san jose, september 18); and cuba (cocos island). it also has been detected on the galapagos islands (barrington island, october 6, 1897); lesser antilles (dominica, october 1, 1904); virginia (four-mile run, september 3 and 25, 1894); new jersey (stone harbor, september 5, 1898); quebec (montreal, september 17, 1892); new brunswick (st. andrews, september 10, 1901); and england (rye harbor, sussex, november 11, 1900). _egg dates._--alaska: 27 records, june 9 to august 24; 14 records, june 19 to july 2. arctic canada: 20 records, june 10 to july 21; 10 records, june 19 to 26. pisobia minutilla (vieillot) least sandpiper habits _contributed by charles wendell townsend_ this least of all our sandpipers is so little smaller than the semipalmated sandpiper and differs so slightly from it in other ways that the two are generally confused in life. their small size, and their notes have given them the familiar name of "peep," but near new york they are also called "oxeye." who has not been gladdened by the sight of flocks of these gentle little birds scampering along the beach or diligently feeding in the tidal flats and in the salt marshes! _spring._--the duration of the spring migration is much more brief than that of the autumnal one. the birds are hastening to their breeding grounds and the least sandpiper is only a month in passing through. in new england this is from about may 5 to june 7. at this time the birds are more apt to be found on the beaches than in the fall, although they are found in greatest abundance in the marshes. _courtship._--the most noticeable part of the courtship of the least sandpiper is the song. i have observed it on the breeding grounds in nova scotia and in labrador, as well as during the spring migration in new england. the bird springs up into the air on quivering, down-curved wings and circles about, now lower, now higher, reaching at times a height of 50 or more yards. in the air it emits a short sweet trill which is rapidly repeated, and with each song burst the wings are rapidly vibrated. on one occasion in labrador the bird remained in the air circling and repeatedly trilling for five minutes by the watch, and continued to trill after it had reached the ground. immediately it was up again, trilling, and, as i left the bog, it followed me, still trilling. this courtship song has been described at great length and with much appreciation by robert t. moore (1912) from intimate studies made by him on five nesting birds in the magdalen islands, and he has recorded these songs in musical notation. he ranks it high among bird songs and dwells on its tremulous and pathetic qualities. he observed one that rendered its entire song from the ground within a foot of his hand. "it consisted of a series of trills, which ascended just one octave on a minor chord. the tone quality was pure and sweet and rendered pathetic by the minor chord, which served as its medium." he says of the records he made of the flight songs of three birds that- each in its notes, progressions, and even time is totally different from the others, yet, without sight of the bird, i would instantly recognize them as songs of the least sandpiper. this is due to the fact that the quality of tone is constant in all, being pure and sweet, the tempo is aways extremely fast, the notes being delivered with great rapidity, and the pitch high. trills and runs are characteristic and make an additional recognition quality. all these observations were made on birds that were both incubating and singing. on one occasion only did he see two birds together. this flight song piped overhead and was sung over and over again with a tremulous zest. alternating with it, was repeated for long intervals an excited call of two notes. we glanced up and for the first time beheld two adult least sandpipers together. alternately they flapped and soared and circled about in rapturous fashion. for several minutes the alternation of song and call continued without break of any kind. sometimes the song was given three times consecutively and followed by as many as 30 or 40 repetitions of the call, this in turn to be followed by the song again. w.e. saunders (1902) has recorded the courtship as observed by him at sable island. he was there between may 16 and 23, too early for nesting. he says: "i found them invariably in pairs, evidently mated, and often sitting so close together that two could be obtained at a single shot if desired." to his ear the song notes resembled somewhat those of the spotted sandpiper. he says of the courtship flight: sometimes both birds would be in the air at once, but whether the female gave the note as well as the male, i could not definitely ascertain without shooting the birds, which i was very loath to do. the note would be given continuously for perhaps three or four minutes, during which time the bird flies slowly with steady flapping of the wings, mounting in the air gradually until, when watching them in the evening, one loses sight of them in the gloom. _nesting._--the least sandpiper makes its nest either in wet grassy or sphagnum bogs close to a pond or tidal water; or on dry uplands, often among low bushes. in either case the nest is a simple affair. p.b. philipp (1925) describes its method of construction as observed by him in the magdalen islands: the bird picks out a spot in the wet moss of a bog or in the dry leaves of a ridge, and scratches a shallow hollow in which it sits, and, by rapidly turning, molds a depression of the required depth. which of the pair does this i have never determined, but the other bird is usually present, standing close to the nest-builder and offering encouragement by a low, rapid twittering. the nest depression in the moss is generally lined with dry leaves, although these may be very few in number, and a little dried grass. the internal dimensions of the nest as given by audubon (1840) are: diameter, 2-1/2 inches; depth, 1-1/4 inches. j. r. whitaker writes, in his notes on these birds at grand lake, newfoundland, that the nest is nearly always amongst a labyrinth of pools of water, and is usually on the side or the top of a hummock of sphagnum moss, but i have found them on flat ground amongst reindeer moss. when on a moss hummock, the scratch is about 2 inches deep and there is always an inch or so of material in the bottom usually composed of cranberry leaves and short bits of cotton grass stems. _eggs._--[_author's note_: four eggs is the rule with the least sandpiper. they vary in shape from ovate pyriform (the usual shape) to subpyriform, and they have only a slight gloss. the ground colors vary from "deep olive buff" to "pale olive buff," or from "pale pinkish buff" to "cartridge buff." there are two extreme types of markings, the boldly blotched and the finely sprinkled type, with many intergradations between them. some eggs are more or less evenly covered, usually more thickly about the larger end, with a mixture of dots, small spots, and small, irregular blotches. in some the blotches are larger, more elongated, often spirally arranged and often confluent at the larger end. in still others the whole egg is evenly covered with very fine dots and small markings. there are two sets from labrador of the latter type in my collection; one has a pinkish ground color, covered uniformly with a fine sprinkling of reddish brown markings, exactly like certain eggs of the western sandpiper; the other set is similarly marked, but the ground color is "olive buff" and the markings are in darker browns. at the other end of the range of variation i have a particularly handsome egg, which has an "olive buff" ground color, with a few large splashes of "vinaceous drab," overlaid, chiefly around the larger end, with a few great splashes of "liver brown," "chestnut brown," and "bone brown." the ordinary markings are in various shades of dark, rich browns, "bay," "liver brown," "chestnut," and "hazel," deepening to blackish brown where the pigment is thickest. the underlying spots are in pale shades of "vinaceous drab." the measurements of 65 eggs in the united states national museum average 29 by 21 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =31= by 21, 30 by =22=, 26.5 by =20=, and 28 by =19= millimeters.] _young._--incubation is believed to be performed largely by the male. mr. philipp (1925): collected four birds from the nests and all proved to be males on dissection. also a bird which was accidentally stepped on while it was shielding four young or "downies" was a male. in fact, after the eggs are laid both birds are seldom seen around the nest. the incubating bird is most solicitous about its nest. it sits very closely and, when flushed, half runs, half flutters for a few feet as if trying to lead the intruder away. if you are not deceived by these actions but remain quiet, the bird soon returns and walks daintily about, uttering a quickly repeated _peep, peep, peep_, often with such vehemence that the saliva fairly runs from its bill. mr. moore (1912), however, shot a bird which he thought was both incubating and singing, and it proved to be a female. sometimes both parents show solicitude for the young as in the following case in the yukon region, reported by dr. louis b. bishop (1900): i came upon a female surrounded by four downy young. both parents tried time and again the well known wounded-bird tactics to lure me from the spot where the young were hidden in the bunches of grass, and finding this a failure, would circle around me only a few yards off, uttering a plaintive twitter. _plumages._--[_author's note_: the tiny chick of the least sandpiper is prettily colored as are the young of all the tundra nesting species. the upper parts, crown, back, wings, and thighs, are quite uniformly variegated with rich browns, "bay," "chestnut" and "sanford's brown," through which the black basal down shows in places; this is spotted irregularly, from crown to rump, with small round spots, terminal tufts, of yellowish buff. the forehead and sides of the head and neck are pale buff, with narrow, black frontal, loral and malar stripes. the under parts are pure white. young birds are in juvenal plumage when they arrive here in august and generally do not show much signs of molting before they leave here in september. this plumage is darker and more richly colored above than in the spring adult; the feathers of the crown, back, scapulars and all wing coverts are broadly edged with rich, bright browns, "hazel" or "cinnamon rufous," broadest and brightest on the back and scapulars; some scapulars are tipped with white; the throat is often faintly, but sometimes not at all, streaked with dusky. a partial postjuvenal molt in the fall, involving the body plumage and some of the scapulars and tertials, produces a first winter plumage which can be distinguished from the adult by the retained juvenal wing coverts, scapulars, and tertials. at the first prenuptial molt the next spring young birds become indistinguishable from adults, except for some of the old juvenal wing coverts. the complete postnuptial molt of adults begins in august and is mainly accomplished after the birds have migrated. at a partial prenuptial molt, mainly in april and may, the adult renews the body plumage and tail and some of the tertials and wing coverts. adults in spring are more brightly colored, with more rufous and buffy edgings, and the breast is more distinctly streaked than in fall.] _food._--these birds appear to be feeding on small crustaceans and worms on the beaches and on insects and their larvae in the marshes. it is to be hoped that with the increase of the birds the pest of green-head flies and of mosquitoes in the salt marshes may diminish. e. a. preble (1923) examined two stomachs from birds shot in the pribilof islands and found that one of them contained amphipods exclusively, the other the following items: "23 seeds of bottle brush (_hippuris vulgaris_), 50 per cent; bits of hydroid stems, 40 per cent; and chitin from the blue mussel (_mytilus edulis_), 10 per cent." a. h. howell (1924) reports as follows: "of the 19 stomachs of this bird collected in alabama, practically all contained larvae or pupae of small flies (chironomidae) in a few bits of aquatic beetles were found." dr. alexander wetmore (1916) found in the stomach of a bird taken in porto rico "the heads of more than 100 minute fly larvae (75 per cent) and fragments of small beetles (_hetercerus_ sp.) (25 per cent)." _behavior._--the least sandpiper has always been a confiding and an unsuspicious bird, and these characteristics have increased since it has been protected at all seasons. so diligent are they in their search for food that they appear to take no notice of man if he remain quiet, and they run about almost at his feet. they are fascinating birds to watch. not only are they gregarious, collecting in large and small flocks on the migrations, but they are also of a sociable disposition and associate amicably with other shore birds, large and small. they run around among yellow legs like pigmies among giants. a mixed company of several kinds of sandpipers and of plovers feeding together is a common sight. in flight the different species, although in company, generally, but not always, keep by themselves. in the marshes--which are their preferred feeding grounds, although, as stated above, they are sometimes found on the beaches, especially in the spring--they scatter widely, and one may flush one bird after another, previously unseen in the grass. they soon unite in a flock, however, and after circling about and turning now this way, now that, with great nicety of evolution, drop down again suddenly, often near the spot from which they sprang. a single bird flushed generally darts off in irregular zigzags, very much after the manner of a wilson snipe, calling as it goes. in feeding in marshes they frequent the short grass and also the open sloughs or mud holes. here they snap up insects or probe diligently for larvae in the mud and shallow water. they are fond of the mud and sand flats in the tidal estuaries at low water where they appear to find plenty of food, and they run about on the eel grass. in all these places they spread out in an irregular fashion when feeding. such gluttons are they that they are generally loaded with fat on the southward migration and they are often very fat in the spring. notwithstanding this, their wind seems to be excellent and their flight as swift. they are fond of bathing like most birds, and of this mr. nichols writes in his notes as follows: it squats in shallow water, ducking the head under, throwing the water back and fluttering the wings, and at the end of the bath jumps an inch or two into the air with a flutter, apparently to shake the water out of its feathers. afterwards it usually stands quietly and gives its plumage a thorough preening. _voice._--the nuptial song has been described under courtship, but the bird has also a variety of call notes from a simple _weep_ or _peep_, from which, doubtless, it gets its common name, to a succession of notes more or less complicated. john t. nichols (1920) has written at length on the voices of shore birds, and has kindly furnished the following for this article: the identification flight-call is a loud diagnostic _kreep_, distinguished by the [=e][=e] sound from any note of the semipalmated sandpiper.... in flushing, a least sandpiper sometimes utters a string of short unloud notes with or without the [=e][=e] sound, _quee-quee-quee-que_ or _queque_ to be followed almost immediately by some variation of the flight call, as it gets more fully under way. the flight note varies down to a _che_ and _cher_, not readily, if at all, distinguishable from similar calls of the semipalmated sandpiper.... when a flock are up and wheeling about a feeding spot to alight there again almost at once, they have sometimes a confiding little note _chu chu chu chu_, etc. it has also a whinny, a little less clearly enunciated than that of the semipalmated but almost identical with the same. _field marks._--the small size of the least sandpiper distinguishes it readily from all the other sandpipers in this country except the semipalmated, with two exceptions to be noted later. as the least is more frequently found on tidal flats in the estuaries and in salt marshes, it is sometimes called the "mud peep," while the semipalmated, which especially delights in the sand beaches is called the "sand peep." unfortunately this rule, although of general value, is far from absolute, and the birds often exchange places. the least sandpiper is more often found on the beach in the spring than in the fall. the semipalmation is, of course, a diagnostic mark in the hand, but only under exceptional circumstances can it be seen in the field. the color of the tarsus, however, is distinctive and can be made out in favorable light at a considerable distance. i have always thought it absolutely distinctive, but the published descriptions and plates of these two birds are often inaccurate. i have, therefore, compared the legs of both these species, freshly collected, with ridgway's (1912) "color standards and color nomenclature." in the semipalmated sandpiper the tarsi of the adults are black and this is also the case in the juvenals except that there is a slight greenish tinge to be seen on close inspection. in the adult least sandpiper the tarsi are distinctly yellow with a faint greenish cast. they correspond best to the _sulphine yellow_ of ridgway, while the toes, which shade off a little darker, are _citrine_. in the juvenal, there is more of a greenish tinge, and i have put the tarsi down as _oil yellow_, the toes shading into _yellowish oil green_. in deciding on these colors i have had the advice of an artist. the richer brown plumage of the back and the darker streakings and wash of the breast help to distinguish the least from the lighter and grayer semipalmated bird, but in the fall these distinctions are less marked in the adult. even at this season, however, a least sandpiper on the beach in a flock of semipalmated stands out by its browner colors, and, in the marsh, a semipalmated in a flock of least looks very gray. the least sandpiper is a little smaller than the other bird, but this character as well as the color of the plumage are of slight value without the presence of both birds for comparison. another point, which at times can be satisfactorily made out in the field, is that the bill of the least sandpiper is slightly decurved, while that of the semipalmated is straight and stouter. it has been noted by coues (1861) and by others independently, that the least sandpiper is a perfect miniature of the pectoral sandpiper even to the color of its legs. the great difference in size, however, prevents any confusion. two other sandpipers, referred to above, may, however, be mistaken for least or semipalmated sandpipers, although they are somewhat larger. gunners at ipswich used to call them "bull peep." i refer to the white-rumped and the baird sandpipers. the white rump of the former is diagnostic and is easily seen in flight, but is generally covered by the wings when the birds are running on the sand. the plumage of both baird and white-rumped sandpipers is dark in front of the bend of the wing, while in the semipalmated and juvenal least it is light. this is a fine point that i have found of great value. _fall._--the last migrant for the north has scarcely gone before wisps of returning sandpipers appear. the regular northward migration in massachusetts ceases about june 7, although an occasional nonbreeding bird may remain, and the migrants begin to return about july 4. a surprisingly large number of early fall migrants appeared at ipswich on july 3, 1911. a flock of at least 50 whirled about and alighted near me on the marsh. one must suppose that the early migrants in the spring are the early ones to return in the fall. they are generally all gone from the new england coast by the end of the first week in september, although stragglers may be found in october. they migrate both by day and by night. carl lien writes in his notes from destruction island, washington, that the least sandpiper- constitutes, with the western sandpiper, the great body of migratory birds, and if the nights are a little misty the numbers that circle around the light at night resemble a snow storm, and they continue until daybreak when they apparently get their bearings, and continue their journey. the spring movement begins about the middle of april or a little later, and lasts until about the 10th of may, beginning again the first week in july and lasting until the middle of september. _game._--fortunately this bird has been removed from the list of game by the federal law, and we may be sure it will never be replaced. in the absence of larger birds--too frequently the case--the gunner used to shoot these tiny birds in large numbers, and it must be admitted they were delicious eating. at his blind near a slough or mud hole in the salt marshes he would arrange his flock of tin or wooden decoys, generally made to represent yellow-legs, within easy reach of his gun, and he would call down with his tin whistle any passing flock. a projecting spit of mud extending out into the little pool afforded a convenient alighting place for the "peep," and their death trap, for here they could conveniently be raked by gun fire from the blind. the terrified and bewildered survivors spring into the air, and circling about over their dead and dying companions afford several more effective shots, which shower the victims down into the mud and water. only a remnant of the flock escapes, to fall victims, perhaps, to their easy credulity at a neighboring blind. sometimes the gunner in his greed would wait for the birds to bunch together closely on the spit, but before this took place to his satisfaction the alarm calls of a tattler or yellow-legs might ring out over the marsh and every bird would spring into the air and be off, much to his chagrin. fortunately this destruction has not been carried too far. the law has stepped in before it is too late, as alas! may be the case with some of the larger shore birds. the increase of this species since the federal law went into effect in 1913 is very striking. mr. philipp (1925) says there is "a large increase in this dainty shore bird. in 1907 an exhaustive search for breeding birds in the magdalens resulted in finding 11 pairs. in 1923 in the same territory over 50 pairs were located with eggs or young." distribution _range._--north and south america; casual in europe and asia. _breeding range._--the least sandpiper breeds north to alaska (cape blossom and the kowak river); probably yukon (herschel island); mackenzie (peel river, fort anderson, rendezvous lake, and franklin bay); southern franklin (cambridge bay); keewatin (cape fullerton); labrador (ramah); and newfoundland (quarry and gaff topsail). east to labrador (ramah, okak, and nain); newfoundland (quarry); and nova scotia (sable island). south to nova scotia (sable island); quebec (magdalen islands); keewatin (probably fort churchill); probably saskatchewan (isle de la crosse); southern mackenzie (probably fort simpson); southern yukon (teslin river and lake marsh); and southern alaska (probably gustavus bay, and probably kodiak). west to alaska (probably kodiak, nushagak, lake aleknagik, and cape blossom). _winter range._--north to california (san francisco bay, owens lake, and salton sea); rarely arizona (mellen); texas (lomita and decatur); rarely louisiana (vermilion bay); alabama (dauphin island); and rarely north carolina (pea island). east to rarely north carolina (pea island); south carolina (near charleston); georgia (savannah, darien, and st. marys); the bahama islands (abaco, new providence, san salvador, acklin, and great inagua islands); probably the lesser antilles (st. christopher); french guiana (cayenne); and brazil (para, pernambuco, and bahia). south to brazil (bahia and cuyaba); and peru (chorillos and tumbez). west to peru (tumbez); ecuador (santa elena); the galapagos islands (indefatigable island); costa rica (la estrella de cartago and puntarenas); honduras (chamelicon); guatemala (lake atitlan and chiapam); jalisco (zapotlan, la barca, and guadalajara); sinaloa (mazatlan); lower california (san jose del cabo and carmen island); and california (santa barbara and san francisco bay). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival are: virginia, back bay, april 18; district of columbia, washington, april 19; maryland, cambridge, may 1; pennsylvania, mercer county, april 18, butler, april 27, cataract, may 2, erie, may 8, and pittsburgh, may 9; new jersey, cape may, april 4, caldwell, april 7, princeton, april 30, and camden, may 4; new york, orient, april 21, new york city, april 25, auburn, april 29, canandaigua, may 4, and rochester, may 9; connecticut, saybrook, may 3, and new haven, may 8; massachusetts, woods hole, april 23, ipswich, april 24, rehoboth, april 29, and monomoy island, may 6; vermont, st. johnsbury, may 6; maine, saco, may 5; quebec, quebec city, april 28, and godbout, may 12; nova scotia, halifax, april 20; kentucky, bowling green, april 23, and lexington, may 7; missouri, courtenay, april 1, corning, april 5, and independence, april 15; illinois, de kalb, april 6, rantoul, april 9, and milford, april 13; indiana, jeffersonville, april 5, richmond, april 21, and fort wayne, april 22; ohio, new bremen, april 19, painesville, april 30, and oberlin, may 5; michigan, vicksburg, april 30, battle creek, may 3, and detroit, may 4; ontario, listowel, may 3, toronto, may 4, hamilton, may 8, and ottawa, may 10; iowa, marshalltown, april 25, emmetsburg, april 27, and forest city, april 30; wisconsin, beloit, april 18, whitewater, april 28, and madison, may 7; minnesota, lake wilson, april 18, heron lake, april 24, and waseca, april 30; kansas, mcpherson, april 9, lawrence, april 24, and wichita, april 28; nebraska, lincoln, march 21, valentine, april 6, and alda, april 10; south dakota, huron, april 8, vermilion, april 20, and pitrodie, april 22; north dakota, stump lake, april 28, jamestown, may 1, and grafton, may 3; manitoba, gimli, may 6, and shoal lake, may 15; saskatchewan, orestwynd, may 7, indian head, may 12, and dinsmore, may 14; mackenzie, fort providence, may 15, fort simpson, may 17, and fort resolution, may 19; colorado, durango, april 12, loveland, april 19, and barr, april 26; utah, bear river marshes, may 10; wyoming, cheyenne, april 23, and laramie, april 23; montana, great falls, april 16; alberta, carvel, may 6, and flagstaff, may 9; oregon, narrows, april 16, newport, april 21, and klamath lake, april 30; washington, tacoma, april 28, and grays harbor, april 30; british columbia, comox, april 20, chilliwack, april 21, and courtenay, april 22; and alaska, craig, may 2, juneau, may 4, bethel, may 6, and kowak river, may 15. late dates of spring departure are: porto rico, laguna de guanica, may 26; cuba, mariel, may 10, and santiago de las vegas, may 14; the bahama islands, april 25; florida, punta rassa, may 13, and st. marks, may 28; alabama, bayou labatre, may 16; georgia, savannah, may 17; south carolina, lady island, may 12, and aiken, may 14; north carolina, lake ellis, may 18, and raleigh, may 22; pennsylvania, erie, may 24, and beaver, may 28; new jersey, bernardsville, may 20, bloomfield, may 23, and elizabeth, may 30; new york, pine plains, may 30, rochester, may 31, and orient, june 4; connecticut, norwalk, may 30, and new haven, june 5; massachusetts, dennis, june 2, harvard, june 9, and pittsfield, june 16; vermont, st. johnsbury, june 6; new hampshire, manchester, june 3; maine, fryeburg, may 30, and lewiston, june 6; kentucky, lexington, may 23; chicago, may 23, and port byron, june 15; indiana, greencastle, may 26, and lake county, june 1; ohio, columbus, may 21, oberlin, may 23, and youngstown, june 11; michigan, detroit, may 23, sault ste. marie, may 26, and manchester, may 29; ontario, listowel, may 23, point pelee, may 30, london, june 1, and brighton, june 10; iowa, sioux city, may 30, forest city, may 31, and keokuk, june 2; wisconsin, berlin, may 24, tomahawk, may 27, and green bay, june 4; minnesota, elk river, may 23, and walker, june 6; texas, seadrift, may 8, ingram, may 10, and san angelo, may 16; kansas, emporia, may 15, wichita, may 18, and lawrence, may 21; nebraska, peru, may 15, neligh, may 16, and badger, may 18; south dakota, forestburg, may 21, huron, may 23, and yankton, may 25; north dakota, cando, may 24, and charlson, june 1; manitoba, margaret, june 4, reaburn, june 15, and shoal lake, june 20; saskatchewan, indian head, may 23, and osler, june 19; colorado, fort lyon, may 29, and barr, june 19; wyoming, cheyenne, may 27; montana, terry, may 21, and great falls, june 3; alberta, flagstaff, june 1; tepic, las penas islands, may 5; lower california, rivera, april 21, and gardners lagoon, april 23; california, santa barbara, may 10, alameda, may 13, and los angeles, may 19; oregon, newport, may 20; washington, chelan, may 21, and seattle, may 31; and british columbia, okanagan landing, may 19. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrival are: british columbia, atlin, june 29, chilliwack, july 2, okanagan landing, july 3, and courtenay, july 7; washington, north dalles, july 4, and clallam bay, july 17; oregon, silver lake, july 1; california, santa barbara, july 18, and bakersfield, july 19; lower california, san quentin, august 10; alberta, onoway, july 1; wyoming, fort bridger, july 13; utah, provo, july 26; colorado, barr, july 5; chihuahua, pochaco, august 3; saskatchewan, isle de la crosse, july 18; manitoba, victoria beach, july 7, and shoal lake, july 27; north dakota, pembina, july 17, and turtle mountain, july 30; south dakota, forestburg, july 5, and sioux falls, july 24; nebraska, lincoln, july 14; kansas, emporia, august 6, and osawatomie, august 31; texas, tom green, and concho counties, july 20, and tivoli, july 30; minnesota, north pacific junction, july 8, lanesboro, july 15, and st. vincent, july 30; wisconsin, madison, july 11, north freedom, july 14, and madison, july 24; iowa, marshalltown, july 8, and sioux city, july 17; ontario, toronto, july 4; michigan, detroit, july 7, and charity island, july 10; ohio, bay point, july 3, painesville, july 8, and youngstown, july 27; illinois, chicago, july 2, and peoria, july 13; kentucky, lexington, july 16; maine, portland, july 23; new hampshire, manchester, july 10; vermont, st. johnsbury, july 16, and rutland, july 19; massachusetts, cape cod, july 1, ponkapog, july 16, and dennis, july 25; connecticut, new haven, july 14, and niantic, july 22; new york, long beach, july 3, mastic, july 4, and rochester, july 21; new jersey, tuckerton, july 3, camden, july 7, and north branch, july 8; pennsylvania, renovo, august 3, beaver, august 11, erie, august 13, and pittsburgh, august 15; maryland, chesapeake beach, august 16; south carolina, bulls point, july 30; georgia, savannah, july 23; alabama, leighton, july 26; florida, palma sola, july 9, james island, july 20, and pensacola, july 26; bahama islands, long island, july 16, great bahama, july 18, and inagua, july 28; cuba, guantanamo, august 15, and batabano, august 26; jamaica, port henderson, august 2; porto rico, mona island, august 9, and joyuda, august 28; lesser antilles, barbuda, august 14, st. vincent, august 20, and trinidad, august 22; and venezuela, bonaire, july 23, macuto, august 2, and la guaira, august 10. late dates of fall departure are: alaska, st. paul island, september 14; british columbia, chilliwack, september 11, and okanagan landing, september 15; washington, nisqually flats, november 14; oregon, portland, september 7, netarts bay, september 11, and tillamook, september 15; montana, corvallis, september 7; utah, ogden, october 8; colorado, denver, october 3, and barr, october 5; saskatchewan, indian head, september 4, and rosetown, september 6; manitoba, aweme, september 26, and margaret, october 3; north dakota, grafton, september 22; south dakota, forestburg, september 21, and lacreek, september 29; nebraska, nebraska city, october 10, and lincoln, november 11; oklahoma, copan, october 16; minnesota, lanesboro, september 15; iowa, emmetsburg, september 23, keokuk, september 24, and marshalltown, october 12; ontario, kingston, september 29, ottawa, october 12, and point pelee, october 15; michigan, detroit, october 6; ohio, columbus, october 22, youngstown, october 29, and cleveland, november 9; illinois, de kalb, october 9; missouri, courtenay, november 9; tennessee, october 23; nova scotia, pictou, october 8; quebec, montreal, october 20; maine, lewiston, october 16; massachusetts, lynn, october 4, taunton, october 7, and woods hole, october 30; new york, sayville, october 6, ithaca, october 12, canandaigua, october 14, and branchport, october 28; maryland, back river, november 3; and district of columbia, anacostia river, november 27. _casual records._--the least sandpiper has on a few occasions been detected outside of its normal range. among these occurrences are: chile (no definite locality [salvin]); greenland (disko fjord, august, 1878, noursoak peninsula, spring of 1867, and frederikshaab, july, 1857); england (cornwall, october 1853, and september, 1890, and devonshire, september, 1869, and august, 1892); and northeastern siberia (belkoffsky, july 23, 1880, and plover bay, august 13, 1880). _egg dates._--magdalen islands: 79 records, june 3 to 30; 40 records, june 8 to 17. labrador and newfoundland: 13 records, june 7 to july 1; 7 records, june 15 to 25. arctic canada: 14 records, june 14 to july 8; 7 records, june 27 to july 1. pisobia subminuta (middendorff) long-toed stint habits i prefer the above name, as adopted by robert ridgway (1919), to the check list name, _damacensis_, as it seems to have more certain application. the status of the species and its nomenclature is fully discussed by dr. leonhard stejneger (1885). this is one of several asiatic species that have gained places on our list as stragglers to alaska. a specimen of the long-toed stint was taken by dr. charles h. townsend on otter island, in the pribilofs, on june 8, 1885, constituting the only north american record. as the species migrates regularly through the commander islands to kamchatka, it would not be surprising if careful collecting in the western aleutians showed it to occur frequently in north american territory. its close resemblance to some other small sandpipers might easily cause it to be overlooked. very little seems to be known about its habits. _spring._--doctor stejneger (1885) says: the long-toed stint arrives at bering island in large flocks during the latter part of may, and are then met with on sandy beaches, where the surf has thrown up large masses of seaweed, busily engaged in picking up the numerous small crustaceans, etc., with which the weeds abound. most of the birds stay only a few days, going further north, while a small number remain over summer, breeding sparingly on the large swamp behind the village. my efforts to find the nests were unsuccessful, but i shot birds near zapornaja reschka on the 17th and 22d of june, and on the 7th of august. w. sprague brooks (1915) reports birds seen or taken at points in kamchatka on may 21 and 25, 1913, which probably were just arriving on their breeding grounds. _eggs._--i can find no description of the nesting habits of the long-toed stint in print and have located only one set of eggs. this is in col. john e. thayer's collection and has very scanty data. it was taken by o. bernhaner at lake baikal, siberia, on june 18, 1902; the nest was "placed on the ground." the four eggs in this set are ovate pyriform in shape and have hardly any gloss. the ground colors vary from "olive buff" to "deep olive buff." they are spotted, chiefly at the larger end, with "snuff brown," "sepia," and "warm sepia," with a few underlying spots of "pale brownish drab." they measure 28.3 by 20, 28 by 19.7, 28.5 by 20.7 and 28.3 by 20 millimeters. _plumages._--the downy young seems to be entirely unknown. i have not seen enough specimens to add anything to our knowledge of the molts. mr. ridgway (1919) has described the immature and seasonal plumages quite fully. distribution _breeding range._--said to breed in eastern siberia, the shores of the sea of okhotsk, kamchatka, bering island, and south to the kurile islands. eggs have been taken at lake baikal, siberia, and it probably breeds in the valley of the lena river, south of the arctic circle. _winter range._--the malay archipelago, india, burma, ceylon, the philippines, and australia. _migration._--it arrives on bering island during the latter part of may and on kamchatka as early as may 21. fall migrants reach the philippines as early as august 10. _casual record._--accidental on the pribilof islands, otter island, june 8, 1885. _egg date._--siberia: 1 record, june 18. pisobia ruficollis (pallas) rufous-necked sandpiper habits a long time ago col. john e. thayer (1909) added this species to the north american list. in a lot of birds which he received from a. h. dunham were a pair of adults and two young of the rufous-necked sandpiper, or eastern least stint, as it is also called. they were collected at nome, alaska, on july 10, 1908, where they had evidently bred. this record was discredited, however, and the species was placed on the hypothetical list. but the species was firmly established as a north american bird by alfred m. bailey (1926), who reported the capture of two specimens in alaska, an adult female at cape prince of wales on june 11, and a bird of the year at wainwright on august 15, 1922. the birds were breeding in that vicinity, an offshoot from the main breeding range of the species in northeastern siberia. _spring._--the main migration route is northward from southern asia, the philippine islands, and even australia, through the kurile and commander islands and kamchatka to its breeding grounds. dr. leonhard stejneger (1885) says: this species arrives at bering island late in may in rather large flocks, but does not stay long. none were met with during the whole summer, until, in the first half of september, they took a short rest on the shores of our island before continuing their long travel to the southward. a large series of these birds was collected by the jesup north pacific expedition in northeastern siberia. dr. j. a. allen (1905) quotes from the field notes of n. g. buxton as follows: abundant spring and fall migrant, and some breed at kooshka, but the majority move farther inland during the breeding season. first birds arrived may 28, and were common on the 30th in large flocks and in company with the red backed. by june 5 they have paired or passed on, and are not common again until the second week of july. they have mostly gone by september 11. in habits similar to _pelidna alpina_. _nesting._--mr. bailey (1926) was fortunate enough to see a pair building their nest, along a stream bed on the high tundra at the base of wales mountain, alaska; in his notes for june 14, 1922, he wrote: with my glasses i watched a pair of little pink-necked sandpipers as they worked around the grass at the foot of the hill. the male would give up his searching among the dried grass stalks to demonstrate his love for his little partner, upon which she would take to wing and circle about. finally she entered a little tussock of grass, standing on her "nose" fluttering her tail and wings. soon the male pushed his way inside, too, and after a few more rustling about, they took to wing. i looked in the grass and found a little cavity which they were just lining with leaves. upon examining their nesting clump, i found a small pit, exactly similar to the nest of the western sandpiper, in which they had deposited about 20 small willow leaves. i marked the spot carefully, but upon my return found the nest abandoned. w. sprague brooks (1915) found a few pairs breeding at the head of providence bay, northeastern siberia; he writes: two sets of fresh eggs, numbering three and four, respectively, were taken on june 11, 1913; the male incubating one and the female the other. both birds when disturbed fluttered off the nest like other sandpipers. the nests were cavities on small mounds of tundra lined with dry willow leaves. _eggs._--i have been unable to locate any eggs of the rufous-necked sandpiper and do not know what became of the two sets referred to above. joseph dixon (1918) implies that the eggs resemble those of the spoonbill sandpiper. _plumages._--in the downy young the crown and upper parts are variegated with black, "tawny" and "warm buff"; the forehead, superciliary stripe and sides of the head and neck are "warm buff"; the under parts are white, washed on the breast with pale buff; a narrow median stripe on the forehead and a broader loral stripe are black. the specimen described above was taken at cape serdze, siberia, on july 16, and shows the beginning of the juvenal plumage; the back and scapulars are well covered with young feathers and the wings are well started, though the bird is still very small and mostly downy. the feathers of the back and scapulars are black, broadly edged with "hazel," and the scapulars are tipped with white. older young and subsequent plumages are well described by robert ridgway (1919). the molts are apparently similar to those of other species in the genus. the postnuptial molt of the body plumage occurs mainly in august and the wings and tail are molted in january and february. i have seen birds in winter plumage as early as august 13 and as late as march 15. probably the prenuptial molt of the body plumage takes place in april. in fresh nuptial plumage the bright colors of the upper parts are veiled with "drab-gray" tips, which soon wear away. there is much individual variation in the amount of rufous on the head, neck, and breast. mr. dixon (1918) says that in this plumage the rufous-necked sandpiper looks very much like the spoonbill sandpiper; and, as its behavior is similar, it might easily be mistaken for it. distribution _breeding range._--northeastern siberia (probably the delta of the lena river and the shores of the sea of okhotsk, certainly at providence bay, kooshka, and cape serdze); and northwestern alaska (cape prince of wales, wainwright, and probably nome.) _winter range._--the malay archipelago, the philippines, and australia. _migrations._--first arrivals reach gichiga, siberia, may 28, and they are mostly gone by september 11. they pass bering island late in may and again during the first half of september. one taken by g. dallas hanna on st. paul island, august 27, 1920. they have been taken in the philippines as early as august 13. japan, china, and lake baikal are included in the migration route. pelidna alpina alpina (linnaeus) dunlin habits the well-known european dunlin has occurred occasionally as a straggler on our eastern coasts, massachusetts and new york. it has probably occurred here more often than is known, for it closely resembles our red-backed sandpiper, especially in winter plumage. there is no reason why it should not occur here more often, for it is now known to breed regularly on the east coast of greenland. thayer and bangs (1914) thought, at one time, that we should recognize three races of the dunlin, which they designated as follows: _pelidna alpina alpina_ (linn.), western europe. small, with shortest, straightest bill; upper parts darker with less reddish; heavily spotted (sometimes almost streaked) with dusky below, between throat and black breast patch. _pelidna alpina pacifica_ coues. north america. much larger, with much longer, more curved bill; upper parts paler with much more reddish; much less heavily spotted with dusky below, between throat and black breast patch. _pelidna alpina sakhalina_ (vieill.) east siberia. size and length and shape of bill intermediate between that of the other two forms; colors much paler than in either; upper parts very pale reddish, much mixed with gray; back of neck and top of head nearly wholly pale gray; below very slightly spotted with dusky, between throat and black breast patch (much less so, even than in _pacifica_). recently, mr. bangs tells me, he has come to the conclusion that the siberian bird should not be separated from the american, as the characters are too slight and rather intermediate. this seems like a wise decision, as the naming of intermediates is undesirable. much has been published on the habits of the dunlin, but, as they differ but little from those of our birds, it seems superfluous to write its full life history. _nesting._--comparatively few of the great hosts of dunlins which visit england in fall and winter breed on the mainland of great britain. macgillivray (1852) gives a good account of their nesting habits in scotland, as follows: the dunlins, in fact, breed in great numbers on the heaths of many parts of scotland and its larger islands, where they may be found scattered in the haunts selected by the golden plovers, with which they are so frequently seen in company that they have popularly obtained the name of plovers' pages. sometimes about the middle of april, but always before that of may, they are seen dispersed over the moors in pairs like the birds just named, which at this season they greatly resemble in manners. from this period until the end of august none are to be found along the shores of the sea, instead of searching which, they now seek for insects and worms, in the shallow pools, soft ground, and by the edges of lakes and marshes. the male frequently flies up to a person intruding upon his haunts, and sometimes endeavours to entice him away by feigning lameness. rev. henry h. slater (1898) says that the nest "is usually in a tussock of grass, a roughly made hollow, inartistically lined with grass, but often carefully concealed in the herbage." a. l. v. manniche (1910) found the dunlin a common breeding bird on the northeast coast of greenland. he writes: the nests are most frequently built on hillocks with long grass. i found, however, not seldom nests of dunlins on small islets covered with short grass, but always near to or surrounded by shallow water. the dunlin's nest is often placed on similar spots, and has the same exterior as that of the phalarope, but it can easily be distinguished, as the bottom of the dunlin's nest is always lined with a few withered leaves of _salix arctica_, while the phalarope uses bent straws as layer for its eggs. on spots where many dunlins nest several newly scratched but half-finished nests may always be found; they are probably left because the birds have found the ground too wet. the dunlins like to nest on moors and bogs partly irrigated by melted snow streaming down from the rocks. on such places i found many nests with eggs and newborn downy young, which were lying close together in broods carefully guarded by the old female, on isolated larger hillocks surrounded by the ice-cold snow water. when the flood of melting snow is unusually strong, such localities may be completely inundated, and then not only the eggs but also the frail young ones, which are not yet able to save themselves by swimming through the cold water to dry spots, will be destroyed. _eggs._--the great amount of variation in the beautiful eggs of the dunlin is well illustrated in frank poynting's (1895) fine colored plate of 12 eggs. herbert massey (1913) gives a better description of the eggs than i can give, so i quote him, as follows: the eggs of this species resemble those of _g. gallinago_ very closely in color, but in comparing a series (74 sets or 296 eggs) with that of _g. gallinago_ one is struck by the greater proportion of the lighter ground colors in the dunlin, the very deep olives and the very dark browns being almost absent. on the other hand, the beautiful light blue-green and the pale buff are rare in _g. gallinago_. the surface spots are chiefly two shades of brown, a rich red and a dark brown, with, in many cases, spots of violet gray. in _t. alpina_ it is rare to find the two shades of brown in the same egg, as is often the case with _g. gallinago_. the markings are very varied, some eggs dusted all over with tiny specks, others with specks and fair-sized spots, and again others with great blotches of color, chiefly at the larger end. the pattern markings on the eggs of the same set are often very dissimilar. many of the eggs of this species show the spiral arrangement of the spots. the eggs are very glossy, and on this account have a brighter appearance than eggs of _g. gallinago_. i have only one set entirely without gloss. the number of eggs is normally four, occasionally only three, and as many as five and even six have been found in a nest. the measurements of 100 eggs, furnished by rev. f. c. r. jourdain, average 34.3 by 24.4 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =38.3= by 25.4, 35 by =25.8=, =31.3= by 23.2, and 32 by =23= millimeters. _young._--incubation is shared by both sexes and requires 22 days. macgillivray (1852) says of the young: like those of the golden plover and lapwing, they leave the nest immediately after exclusion from the egg, run about, and when alarmed conceal themselves by sitting close to the ground and remaining motionless. if at this period a person approaches their retreat, the male especially, but frequently the female also, flies up to meet the intruder and uses the same artifices for deceiving him as many other birds of this family. after they are able to shift for themselves the young remain several weeks on the moors with their parents, both collecting into small flocks, which are often intermingled with those of the golden plover, and often in the evenings uniting into larger. they rest at night on the smoother parts of the heath, and both species, when resting by day, either stand or lie on the ground. when one advances within a hundred yards of such a flock it is pleasant to see them stretch up their wings, as if preparing for flight, utter a few low notes, and immediately stand on the alert, or run a short way; but at this season they are not at all shy. seton gordon (1915), after giving a charming account of the breeding haunts of the dunlin in scotland, has this to say about the solicitude of a devoted mother. it was about this time that i saw the hen in precisely the same locality as before. she showed much more anxiety than the cock, uttering almost incessantly two alarm notes as she walked round me. one of these notes was the characteristic trill, unlike, i think, any other cry in the bird world; the other, which appeared to be the note of extra alarm, was a harsh cry reminding me much of the alarm note of the lesser tern. in order to observe the effect, i called several times, imitating the cry of one of her chicks. the effect was striking and instantaneous; the bird rushed up in alarm and literally rolled herself about on the ground with feathers ruffled. she, indeed, presented such an appearance that it was quite impossible to see her head or feet emerging from the disheveled bundle into which she rolled herself. evidently her tactics were quite different--considerably less elegant, but perhaps equally forcible--to those used by the dotterel under similar circumstances. after a time she began to realize that her deception was producing no effect on the object of her mistrust, and moved anxiously round me. _plumages._--in natal down the young dunlin is similar to the young red-backed sandpiper, but is paler in color, more buffy, and less rufous. the subsequent molts and plumages are similar to those of our american bird. they are well described in witherby's (1920) handbook. _food._--macgillivray (1852) made some careful observations on the feeding habits of dunlins, which are well worth quoting, as follows: being in a muddy place, which probably afforded a good supply of food, they did not run much, but yet moved quickly about, with their legs a little bent, the body horizontal, the head a little declined, and the bill directed forward toward the ground at an angle of about 45â°. i observed that they seemed in general merely to touch the surface, but also sometimes to introduce their bill into the mud for about a fourth of its length; but this was always with a rapid tapping and somewhat wriggling movement, and not by thrusting it in sedately. this flock having flown away, i observed another of about 12 individuals alight at a little distance on the other side of the mill stream. being very intent on tapping the mud, they allowed me to approach within 10 paces, so that i could see them very distinctly. i examined the marks made by them in the mud. although it was soft, very few footmarks were left, but the place was covered with numberless small holes made by their bills, and forming little groups, as if made by the individual birds separately. of these impressions very many were mere hollows not much larger than those on a thimble, and not a twelfth of an inch deep; others scarcely perceptible, while a few were larger, extending to a depth of two-twelfths; and here and there one or two to the depth of nearly half an inch. on scraping the mud, i could perceive no worms or shells. it is thus clear that they search by gently tapping, and it appears that they discover the object of their search rather by the kind of resistance which it yields than by touch like that of the human skin. witherby's (1920) handbook says that the food is mainly animal and includes mollusks, worms, crustaceans (shrimps and sandhoppers), insects (beetles, flies, etc.), and spiders. _behavior._--the habits of the european dunlin seem to be the same as those of our bird. it is equally tame and confiding, unless shot at too much, and it has the same habit of flying in large, closely bunched flocks. john t. nichols tells me that some that he saw near liverpool in september, "when on the ground, moved about very actively for the most part (contrasted with the sluggishness of the redback as we know it in migration) and presented a low, hunch-shouldered figure." abel chapman (1924) says: on one occasion, on may 14, seeing three small waders floating on the mirror-like surface of the tide and quite 200 yards offshore, we punted out to them in full anticipation of having at last fallen in with phalaropes. curiously, the trio proved to be dunlins, a species i can not recall having seen contentedly swimming in deep water on any other occasion. distribution _breeding range._--northern europe: iceland, the faroes, british isles, northern coasts of germany, northern russia east to kolguev, spitzbergen, and probably nova zembla. south to holland and rarely to northern spain and northern italy. replaced by one or more other forms in siberia, to which asiatic migrants probably belong. _winter range._--great britain, madeira, the canaries, the mediterranean, northern and eastern africa as far south as zanzibar, the red sea, and perhaps india. _casual records._--accidental in north america; shinnecock bay, long island, new york, september 15, 1892; chatham, massachusetts, august 11, 1900. it has probably been many times overlooked. _egg dates._--orkney islands: 50 records, may 12 to june 27; 25 records, may 20 to june 2. iceland: 16 records, may 18 to june 16; 8 records, june 3 to 12. pelidna alpina sakhalina (vieillot) red-backed sandpiper habits although this sandpiper is certainly red-backed enough to deserve the name, it seems to me that american dunlin would be a better name, as it is only subspecifically distinct from the well-known european dunlin. the doubtful question as to whether a third subspecies should be recognized on the pacific coast has been referred to under the preceding form. _spring._--it is a hardy bird and perhaps a lazy bird for it winters farther north than most of its tribe and makes shorter migrations than any of the waders that breed in arctic regions. from its winter range well within the united states it migrates northward from florida and the carolinas along the atlantic coast to the middle states, rarely to new england, through the great lakes region, and along the west coast of hudson bay to its summer home on the barren grounds. c. j. pennock tells me he has seen it in florida, wakulla county, as late as may 26; i found it very abundant and in fine spring plumage on the coastal islands of south carolina on may 22 and 23; and i have seen it near corpus christi, texas, as late as may 29. these are all late dates, however, for the migration starts in april and is generally completed in may. a single bird which i saw on the coast of louisiana on june 22, 1910, was a nonbreeding loiterer. a. g. lawrence and c. g. harrold both record it in their notes as common in manitoba from the middle to the last of may (12 to 29). william rowan, however, finds it rare in alberta. there is a heavy northward migration along the pacific coast. in some notes sent to me by d. e. brown from grays harbor, washington, he says: this bird, next to the western sandpiper, was by far the most abundant of all the shore birds. it was noted in immense flocks the day of my arrival, may 3, and was very common when i left, may 24. mixed flocks of this species and western sandpipers must have contained 6,000 or 7,000 birds. herbert w. brandt in his manuscript notes says: the red-backed sandpiper is one of the most abundant shore birds inhabiting the hooper bay region, confining itself almost entirely to the low-lying flats. the eskimos first reported this hardy species on may 10 and two days later we collected our first specimen at point dall. they were common in loose flocks by may 15 and abundant by may 20. at that time they were often associated with the aleutian sandpiper, to which, in the field, they bear a marked resemblance. soon after the later date the flocks disintegrated into mated couples and they then repaired to their lowland breeding haunts. _courtship._--dr. e. w. nelson (1887) gives an attractive account of the courtship of this species, as follows: soon after they arrive in spring they are engaged in pairing, and the males may be seen upon quivering wings flying after the female and uttering a musical, trilling note, which falls upon the ear like the mellow tinkle of large water drops falling rapidly into a partly filled vessel. imagine the sounds thus produced by the water run together into a steady and rapid trill some 5 to 10 seconds in length, and the note of this sandpiper is represented. it is not loud but has a rich full tone, difficult to describe, but pleasant to hear among the discordant notes of the various waterfowl whose hoarse cries arise on all sides. as the lover's suit approaches its end the handsome suitor becomes exalted, and in his moments of excitement he rises 15 or 20 yards, and, hovering on tremulous wings over the object of his passion, pours forth a perfect gush of music, until he glides back to earth exhausted, but ready to repeat the effort a few minutes later. the female coyly retreats before the advances of the male, but after various mishaps each bird finds its partner for the summer and they start off house hunting in all the ardor of a rising honeymoon. mr. brandt in his manuscript notes describes it a little differently, thus: the red-backed sandpiper, often called the american dunlin, arrives in flocks, the individuals of which are apparently not all mated. a female will jump up and be immediately pursued by two to five males, and as they all twist about, in and out, twittering all the time, the alternate flashing of their reddish backs and black lower parts seems like the signals of the telegraphic code. the males appear never to catch the females, but to try to keep as close to them as possible. when they alight again in the flock whence they started they at once resume feeding without further display. the thrilling song of this dainty bird is delivered while hovering with quivering wing beats in mid-air. it appears as if both male and female carry on the vocal effort, which sounds something like the cheery tinkling of ice in a glass, and ends with a real lover's note _dear, dear, dear_. this is repeated again and again and is one of the pleasant characteristic songs of the marshy grass-woven flats, where the discords of waterfowl prevail. after the fastest male has captured his elusive sweetheart the two retire to their chosen place on the flats to take up their more serious duties. here the female lays her eggs, often in a situation that is moist, and never very far from a small pond or slough. _nesting._--the same observer says of the nest: the home of the red-backed sandpiper is almost always found on a dry eminence in the widespread grassy tidelands, where, near some pool under the damp matted vegetation of the previous year, sufficient concealment is afforded. here in a mere depression in the ground, still frozen underneath, a fragile nest is hurriedly made of dry grass stems and filled, rather than lined, with the tiny crisp leaves of the berry-bearing plants, that are deposited by the flood tides of autumn in this area. the range of measurements of 25 nests is: inside diameter, 3-1/2 to 4 inches; inside depth 2 to 3 inches; total depth, 3 to 5 inches. this sandpiper is among the early nesters, we having taken the first completed set of eggs on may 29, while by june 1 we had discovered 75. the middle of june found the downy young bursting forth, dainty creatures clad in black and brown with markings similar to those of the other sandpiper chicks. dr. joseph grinnell (1900) found this species breeding on the arctic coast of alaska, about 20 miles northeast of cape prince of wales, on june 27 and 28; he writes: the birds were found scattered out on the tundras whence they could be flushed from their nests or from where they had been feeding. one nest was a cup-shaped cavity slightly lined with grasses and sunk into the top of a hummock of moss surrounded by marshy ground. the two others found were similarly located except that they were embedded in clumps of grass, and mostly hidden from view by the surrounding blades. each nest contained four eggs. one was fresh but the other two were considerably incubated. prof. wells w. cooke (1912) made the statement that this species has two breeding areas "separated by nearly 1,500 miles of arctic coast, from point barrow to the boothia peninsula," where "there seems to be no certain record of the occurrence of the red-backed sandpiper." this is far from true, for it is well known to breed there and eggs have been taken at many places along the arctic coast. _eggs._--herbert w. brandt (mss.) describes his series of 120 eggs of this sandpiper very well, as follows: the four eggs of the red-backed sandpiper, which is their complement, are very handsome and show more variation than the eggs of most of the other shore birds breeding in the hooper bay region. in shape they are subpyriform to ovate pyriform and rest amid the leafy nest lining with the small ends together often so placed that the sitting bird during incubation touches only the larger ends. the shell is not as strong as many shore-bird eggs of the same size but they are not fragile by any means and they have considerable luster. as was true of many of the limicoline eggs found along that bering sea coast, there were two general types of ground color--the one, the greenish, that predominated by a ratio of about 15 to 1--and the other was the brownish type. the ground color ranges from "pale glaucous green"--that is the most common type--to "glaucous green," while the brownish-tinged eggs shade from "olive buff" to "dark olive buff." the surface markings are conspicuous and vary greatly, for on some types the spots are small and well scattered over the eggs; on others they are large, irregular, and bold; while on still other specimens they are confluent on the larger end and form a blotch that completely decorates that part of the egg. these spots are irregular in shape, but are inclined to be elongated with their axis twisting to the right, so that when a series of eggs is viewed looking toward the larger end, the spots produce a clockwise spiral. some of these spots are more twisted than others, but on a few eggs there are no spiral tendencies at all. the surface spots are quite variable in color, dependent largely on the thickness of the pigment deposited, for where the latter is thin the true color is observable, but when the decoration is liberal, the blot becomes opaque and the color is lost. these spots range from "auburn" and "raw umber" to "chestnut brown" and "blackish brown." the underlying spots are well hidden by the boldness of the surface markings and inclined to be small and regular and are often more or less numerous. their shades are delicate, ranging from "pallid gray" to "mouse gray." an occasional egg exhibits scattering insignificant additional markings of deep "blackish brown." the measurements of 145 eggs average 36.3 by 25.3 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =40.1= by 25.9, 39.2 by =26.5=, =34= by 25, and 34.5 by =23.5= millimeters. _young._--both sexes incubate and are rather close sitters, as well as devoted and bold in the defense of their young. the period of incubation is probably the same as for the european dunlin, 22 days. john murdoch (1885) says: both parents share in the work of incubation, though we happened to obtain more males than females with the eggs. the young are pretty generally hatched by the first week in july, and both adults and young keep pretty well out of sight till the 1st of august, when they begin to show about the lagoons and occasionally about the beach, many of the young birds still downy about the head. the autumn flight of young birds appears about the middle of august, associating with the young _a. maculata_ and _m. griseus scolopaceus_, in good-sized flocks, particularly about the pools on the high tundra below cape smythe. they continue plenty in these localities, sometimes appearing along the beach, for about a week, when the greater part of them depart, leaving only a few stragglers that stay till the first few days of september. _plumages._--the downy young red-backed is much paler and more buffy than that of the least sandpiper. the crown, back, wings, and thighs are variegated with brownish black, "ochraceous tawny" and "hazel," except at the base of the down on the back, there is no rich, deep brown; the above parts are quite thickly sprinkled, especially on the back, with minute, round spots, terminal tufts of pale buff; a distinct stripe of these nearly encircles the posterior half of the crown. the black of the crown extends nearly to the bill and there is a black loral stripe; the rest of the head and a band across the lower throat are "warm buff." the rest of the under parts are white. the nape is a grizzly mixture of dull buff and dusky. the juvenal plumage, as seen in alaska in august, is strikingly handsome and quite distinctive. the feathers of the crown are dusky, edged with "ochraceous tawny"; the sides of the head and nape are "drab-gray," streaked with dusky; the feathers of the back are black, broadly edged with three colors in different areas, "ochraceous tawny," "hazel," and buffy white; the scapulars are black, edged with "light ochraceous buff"; the wing coverts are gray, tipped with pale buff; the rump and upper tail coverts are "hair brown" to "drab"; the breast is tinged with grayish and pale buff and streaked with dusky; the throat and rest of the under parts are white, conspicuously and more or less heavily spotted with dusky on the sides of the belly. this beautiful plumage is worn for only a short time and is molted before the birds leave their northern breeding grounds. the postjuvenal molt begins in august and is generally finished before october; it involves nearly all of the body plumage, nearly all of the scapulars, and some of the tertials, but not the rump, upper tail coverts, or flight feathers. in first winter plumage young birds are much like adults, but the ashy brown upper parts are usually somewhat paler, and they can always be recognized by the juvenal wing coverts and a few retained scapulars and tertials. a partial prenuptial molt, similar to that of the adult, produces a first nuptial plumage, in which young birds can be distinguished only by the retained juvenal wing coverts. in fresh plumage the black belly patch is veiled with white tips, which soon wear away and leave this area clear black. the first postnuptial molt of young birds and the corresponding molt of adults produce adult winter plumages. the molt is complete and begins in july or even late in june; the wings are apparently molted first in july, and are entirely renewed before the birds start to migrate; the body molt begins in august and lasts through september; there are usually traces of the old nuptial plumage left when the birds arrive here on migration. the partial prenuptial molt of adults comes in april and may and involves the body plumage, but not all the scapulars or rump or wing coverts. _food._--red-backed sandpipers obtain their food on the ocean beaches at low tide, on sandy flats or on mud flats, often feeding in company with sanderlings, or with other small shore birds. some writers have referred to them as nervous and active running about in a lively manner while feeding, but i have usually found them rather sluggish and inactive at such times, easily approached and unsuspicious. their food consists of small mollusks, sand fleas, and other small crustaceans, amphipods, flies and other insects and their larvae, diving and other aquatic beetles, marine worms, and occasionally a few seeds of aquatic plants. they are apt to gather where fish cleanings and other offal are thrown out, to feed on the flies and other insects that abound there. dr. charles w. townsend (1905) writes: in feeding they frequently plunge the bill, slightly open to its base in the soft sand or mud, appear to work it about and when successful draw forth an amphipod or a worm. several times on one occasion i saw one draw a worm to the water close at hand as if to wash it before swallowing it. on another occasion a couple of dunlins were so tame that it was possible to approach within 5 feet of them. they were diligently probing in the sandy mud, wading in water up to their bellies. at this depth it was necessary for them to immerse their heads entirely, and i could see them shut their eyes as they went under water. whether the eyes were afterwards opened or not i am unable to say. when disturbed they flew but a short way, and if they happened to alight in water too deep for their legs, they swam readily, as do all shore birds. when disturbed the dunlin utters a short _kuk_. their call note is distinctive, and resembles somewhat the word _purre_, by which name the european species is called. the note is plaintive and sometimes melodious, and recalls, without its harshness, the cry of the common tern. _behavior._--the earlier writers refer to this as an active, restless bird. audubon (1840) says: there seems to be a kind of impatience in this bird that prevents it from remaining any length of time in the same place, and you may see it scarcely alighted on a sand bar, fly off without any apparent reason to another, where it settles, runs for a few moments, and again starts off on wing. giraud (1844) writes: it is a restless active bird and gleans its food with great nimbleness, and seems to be fond of continually changing its position. soon after alighting they collect together and make a short excursion over the water, again alighting a short distance from where they had previously taken wing. during their aerial excursions, when whirling about, they crowd so close together that many are killed at a single shot. on one of these occasions mr. brasher informs me that he killed 52 by discharging both barrels into a flock. this number is greater than i ever before heard of; but from 10 to 15 is not unusual. wilson (1832), writing when shore birds were abundant, says of this flocking habit: these birds, in conjunction with several others, sometimes collect together in such flocks, as to seem, at a distance, a large cloud of thick smoke, varying in form and appearance every instant, while it performs its evolutions in air. as this cloud descends and courses along the shores of the ocean, with great rapidity, in a kind of waving, serpentine flight, alternately throwing its dark and white plumage to the eye, it forms a very grand and interesting appearance. at such times the gunners make prodigious slaughter among them; while, as the showers of their companions fall, the whole body often alight, or descend to the surface with them, till the sportsman is completely satiated with destruction. suckley (1860) found them equally abundant in the puget sound region, for he writes: early in the season, before they have been rendered wild by being much shot at, i have observed that upon a volley being fired into a flock the unharmed birds in terror sweep around in several circles, and hovering "_bunch_," as the sportsmen say, over their wounded companions, and sometimes realight with them. at the moment of their hovering in a compact body over the wounded is the time generally seized to fire the reserved barrels; two or three shots will frequently bring down from 30 to 60 birds; and i have known one instance where an officer of the army bagged 96 birds from one discharge of his fowling piece. after being fired into once or twice the flocks, learning to avoid sympathizing with their dead and wounded, become shy and wary. several observers have remarked on the remarkable tameness of the red-backed sandpiper. william brewster (1925) spent two hours photographing five of these birds within 8 feet of his boat on an open mud flat; they paid no attention to his movements, the click of the camera, or the flapping of the focusing cloth; "during much of the time they were apparently asleep;" he even had difficulty in frightening them away until he splashed water on them. i have frequently walked up to within a few feet of feeding birds and had some difficulty in inducing them to fly more than a short distance. their eyesight is keen enough, however, as shown by an incident related by w. e. saunders (1896). a bird which had been feeding near him for about an hour, stopped, looked steadily, as if afraid, and "shrank down flat on the ground, where he lay perfectly still." after some time mr. saunders discovered an eagle approaching, so far away that he could hardly see him. after the eagle had passed the sandpiper resumed his feeding. _voice._--the red-backed sandpiper is usually silent when on the ground. john t. nichols, in his notes, calls the "flushing note of a single bird a fine _chit-l-it_. its flight note is an emphatic near-whistled _chu_ or _chru_, resembling some of the calls of the pectoral and semipalmated sandpipers, but quite diagnostic when one is sufficiently familiar with it. this call may also be phonetically suggested by the syllable _purre_, which is a colloquial name of the european dunlin, of which it is a race." doctor townsend (1905) says: "the note is plaintive and sometimes melodious, and recalls, without its harshness, the cry of the common tern." mr. murdoch (1885) and others have noticed that the rolling call, heard on the breeding grounds in june, "reminds one of the notes of the frogs in new england in spring." a bird which mr. brewster (1925) flushed "uttered a peculiarly mellow _tweet-twel-l-l-ut_ just as it rose on wing." _field marks._--in spring plumage the american dunlin deserves the name red backed, for its back is even redder than that of its european relative; at that season the black patch on the belly is very conspicuous, even at a long distance, so that the species is easily recognized. it is a short-legged, rather stocky bird, about the size of the sanderling, and can be identified in the fall by its rather long and somewhat curved bill and its dull, mouse-colored back. a narrow white stripe in the wing can be seen in flight. _fall._--of their departure from alaska, doctor nelson (1887) writes: the young are mostly on the wing toward the end of july, and the birds begin to gather into flocks along the muddy edges of the brackish pools and the banks of tide creeks. very soon after this they begin to lose their summer plumage, and the molt continues until the last of september or first of october. during the first of october they are very common in flocks and singly among the lakes and streams; a little later and the borders of these situations are edged with ice and most of the birds leave for the south, but some of the hardier ones betake themselves to the seashore, where they join with coues's sandpiper and remain as late as the 12th or 13th of the month. the southward migration separates into two widely divergent main routes, with only stragglers between. one route is southward along the pacific coast and one southeastward along the west coast of hudson bay, through the eastern great lakes, and to the coast of new england and farther south. e. a. preble (1902) saw them on the west coast of hudson bay, just commencing the migration, on july 19, and "present by thousands" south of cape eskimo on august 3 to 13. it seems to be a rare bird in the interior provinces of canada; my manitoba correspondents have no fall records, and professor rowan has only one for alberta. mr. brewster (1925) saw it regularly at lake umbagog, maine, in october; and w. e. clyde todd (1904) calls it common in erie county, pennsylvania; probably these two points represent the north and south limits of the eastward route. mr. todd (1904) quotes from samuel e. bacon's notes as follows: in former years extensive flights took place about the 1st of november, upon which occasions bushels of them are said to have fallen to a single gun. during these great flights the flocks were accustomed to follow the outside beach of the peninsula (having presumably come directly across the lake) to its southeastern extremity, thence crossing over to the sand beach east of the mouth of mill creek, where, after having been sadly depleted by dozens of guns, they would finally rise high in the air and pass southward over the mainland, flock following flock, all day long. i know this by hearsay only, but am positive that this is the bird that used to arrive in such numbers late in the fall. on october 29, 1897, i killed 53 of these birds out of two flocks, comprising in all perhaps as many more, and this is the nearest approach to a flight that has occurred of late years. the redbacks do not reach the massachusetts coast in any numbers until the last week in september and the main flight comes in october, with some lingering into november and a few remain all winter occasionally. while with us they frequent the ocean beaches and salt-water mud flats, where they associate with sanderlings, ringnecks, peep, and turnstones. during high tides they rest on the high, sandy beaches in the large flocks of other small waders. they fly in close flocks, low over the water. the adults which come first, have nearly completed the body molt when they arrive here. _winter._--it is only a short flight farther to their winter homes on our southern coast. dr. louis b. bishop (1901) found this to be "the most abundant sandpiper" on pea island, north carolina, in winter. arthur t. wayne (1910) says that it usually arrives in south carolina about the first week in october and remains until may 25. "with the exception of the western sandpiper, this species is the most common of all the waders that winter on the coast. it is a very hardy bird and is apparently not inconvenienced by a temperature of 6â° above zero." we found it common all winter on the coastal islands and mud flats on the west coast of florida. mr. nichols says in his notes: where met with on its winter range in northwest florida it apparently shifted its feeding grounds with high or low water, at the particular locality in mind, more or less dependent on the wind. when offshore winds caused low tides and extensive mud flats, it was less numerous; when the water was high, numbers were seen flying over the bay. they were present on inundated landward flats, and, as the tide receded, fed along the edge of the bay near by, wading in the water and often immersing most of the head as they probed. according to j. hooper bowles (1918) they winter farther north on the pacific coast than on this side. he writes: these birds are among the last of the limicolae to arrive in the fall migration, often reaching washington after many of the other species have left for the south. they make up for it, however, by staying with us all winter and late into the spring. on the nisqually flats i have seen them in flocks of hundreds when the marsh was a solid pack of snow and ice, the rise and fall of the tide making sufficient feeding grounds to keep them fat and strong. distribution _range._--north america and eastern asia; casual in central america and the west indies. _breeding range._--north to northeastern siberia (taimyr peninsula, nijni kolymsk, cape wankarem, and east cape); alaska (cape prince of wales, point barrow, colville delta, and camden bay); mackenzie (cape bathurst, mackenzie bay, franklin bay, and baillie island); and franklin (port kennedy). east to franklin (port kennedy and felix harbor); and probably eastern keewatin (cape fullerton). south to probably eastern keewatin (cape fullerton); northwestern mackenzie (great slave lake and peel river); and alaska (probably nushagak and ugashik). west to alaska (ugashik, pastolik, hooper bay, and st. michael); and northeastern siberia (cape serdze, plover bay, and taimyr peninsula). the species also has been recorded as breeding in greenland, and on the coast of labrador (okak), but the records are indefinite or otherwise unsatisfactory. _winter range._--north to washington (dungeness spit); texas (refugio county); louisiana (freshwater bayou and new orleans); and southern new jersey (anglesea). east to southern new jersey (anglesea, and five-mile beach); virginia (wallops, cobbs, sandy, and hog islands); north carolina (pea island and fort macon); south carolina (port royal and frogmore); georgia (savannah and darien); and florida (amelia island, tarpon springs, and fort myers). south to florida (fort myers); texas (probably brownsville); and lower california (la paz). west to lower california (la paz); california (san diego, alamitas bay, los banos, san francisco bay, and humboldt bay); oregon (yaquina bay); and washington (nisqually flats, tacoma, and dungeness spit). it also has been noted in winter north to the mouth of the fraser river, british columbia (specimen in u. s. national museum); barnstable, massachusetts (howe, december 23, 1903); long island, new york (fleischer, december 25, 1914); and south to great inagua, bahama islands (worthington, february 3, 1909). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival in the spring are: new york, long island, april 3, canandaigua, april 20, and orient, may 7; rhode island, block island, may 12; massachusetts, monomoy island, april 13, rehoboth, may 2, and boston, may 4; quebec, quebec, may 2; illinois, addison, may 9; ohio, youngstown, april 18, cedar point, may 8, tiffin, may 10, and oberlin, may 11; michigan, jackson, may 4, detroit, may 13, and ann arbor, may 14; ontario, toronto, may 12, and point pelee, may 13; iowa, sigourney, may 13; wisconsin, whitewater, may 1, madison, may 10, and elkhorn, may 13; minnesota, heron lake, may 11, waseca, may 14, and hutchinson, may 18; eastern nebraska, lincoln, may 7; south dakota, vermilion, april 29, and huron, may 6; north dakota, sweetwater, may 10; manitoba, whitewater lake, may 12, and shoal lake, may 22; british columbia, courtenay, april 18, chilliwak, april 25, and metlakatla, april 29; yukon, dawson, may 24; alaska, howcan, april 2, kuiu island, april 28, craig, may 1, mouth of the yukon river, may 10, admiralty island, may 14, fort kenai, may 16, and point barrow, may 31; and siberia, bering island, may 26, and nijni kolymsk, may 28. late dates of spring departure are: florida, gasparilla island, may 24, st. marks, may 26, and new smyrna, may 26; georgia, savannah, may 29; south carolina, mount pleasant, may 29; north carolina, fort macon, may 22, and churchs island, may 26; virginia, pig island, may 28; new jersey, anglesea, may 20; new york, canandaigua, may 26, new york city, may 30, rockaway, june 3, and geneva, june 7; massachusetts, cape cod, may 22, and ipswich, may 30; maine, scarboro, june 2; quebec, quebec city, may 28; illinois, waukegan, may 27, riverdale, may 31, and chicago, june 5; ohio, painesville, may 27, oberlin, june 1, and lakeside, june 16; michigan, sault ste. marie, may 29, detroit, may 30, and neebish island, june 3; ontario, mitchell's bay, june 1, hamilton, june 3, point pelee, june 10, and toronto, june 13; iowa, emmetsburg, may 25, storm lake, may 26, and sioux city, june 4; wisconsin, madison, may 27, and green bay, june 4; minnesota, lanesboro, may 30, heron lake, june 2, and wilder, june 10; texas, fort brown, may 16, dallas, may 20, and corpus christi, may 29; eastern nebraska, lincoln, june 9; south dakota, vermilion, may 24, and forestburg, may 30; north dakota, jerusalem, june 1; manitoba, killarney, may 28, and shoal lake, june 5; california, fresno, may 15, santa barbara, may 17, and alameda, may 21; oregon, beaver creek, lincoln county, may 18, and silver lake, june 4; and british columbia, cowickan, may 18. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrival are: washington, smith island, august 14, and point chehalis, august 20; california, santa barbara, september 9, alameda, september 19, and hayward, september 20; manitoba, gimli, august 20; south dakota, forestburg, july 30; eastern nebraska, lincoln, september 1; minnesota, wilder, september 16; ontario, brighton, july 31, and ottawa, august 21; michigan, saginaw bay, august 20, and ann arbor, september 21; ohio, youngstown, august 10, pelee island, august 15, and cleveland, august 22; illinois, chicago, july 22; quebec, godbout, september 7; massachusetts, norton, august 26, and taunton, september 1; new york, orient, august 11, canandaigua, september 14, and ithaca, september 24; pennsylvania, erie, september 25; maryland, lock raven, september 3; district of columbia, washington, september 25; virginia, smiths island, september 28; and south carolina, mount pleasant, september 30. late dates of fall departures are: siberia, bering island, october 25; alaska, sitka, october 10, mouth of the yukon river, october 13, and st. paul island, october 30; british columbia, comox, october 22, and chilliwack, november 29; manitoba, lake winnipeg, october 31; eastern nebraska, lincoln, november 7; minnesota, hallock, october 16; wisconsin, madison, november 15; iowa, keokuk, october 4, and marshalltown, october 12; ontario, ottawa, october 29, and long point, november 2; michigan, detroit, october 11, sault ste. marie, october 22, and st. clair flats, november 20; ohio, huron, november 5, youngstown, november 8, and columbus, november 28; illinois, chicago, october 31, lake forest, november 3, and la grange, november 6; maine, lewiston, october 12, and portland, november 25; massachusetts, lynn, november 3, boston, november 10, and monomoy island, november 14; rhode island, block island, november 16; connecticut, fairfield, november 29; new york, orient, november 12, and long beach, december 25; and pennsylvania, erie, november 3. _casual records._--accidental occurrences of the red-backed sandpiper have been reported mostly from the rocky mountain states. among these are: arizona, near tucson, april, 1883; nevada, pyramid lake, may, 1868; and utah, ogden and salt lake city (reported in september by allen). it also has been reported as detected at dominica, west indies, october 1, 1904; and at momotombo, nicaragua, on may 23. (this last record represented by a specimen in the british museum.) _egg dates._--alaska: 83 records, may 26 to july 8; 42 records, june 4 to 30. arctic canada: 15 records, june 5 to july 7; 8 records, june 26 to july 3. erolia ferruginea (brã¼nnich) curlew sandpiper _contributed by francis charles robert jourdain_ habits the curlew sandpiper is only an occasional visitor to america, and with the exception of a single record from point barrow all the recorded instances have been reported from the eastern side of the continent. it has been met with in canada on two occasions, about ten times in the eastern states, twice in the west indies and once in patagonia. _courtship._--very few observations on this species have been made on its breeding grounds in eastern siberia, so our information as to its courtship is still very defective. the late dr. h. walter, during his enforced detention on the taimyr peninsula, from september, 1900, to august, 1901, while frozen in on board the exploring ship "sarja," noted that they arrived on the peninsula on june 13, and from that date onward were to be met with chasing one another in little parties of three or four over the tundra. there is no mention of any song flight (as in _crocethia alba_, _erolia temminchii_, _arquatella maritima_, _calidris canutus_, etc.). _nesting._--the usual nesting place is on the gentle slope of the drier tundra, where the reindeer moss is interspersed with tufts of wiry grass and allowing a wide field of view over the neighborhood. miss haviland (1915_a_) noted that the actual nest hollow was rather deep, so that the pointed ends of the eggs were pointed downwards almost vertically. walter describes them as shallow depressions, lined with a few dry bents, but h. l. popham (1898) also remarks that "the nest was a rather deep hollow amongst the reindeer moss in an open space on a ridge of ground, somewhat drier than the surrounding swampy tundra, in much the same sort of place as that generally chosen by a grey plover." although middendorff undoubtedly met with birds about to breed, and indeed extracted a partly developed egg from the oviduct of a female which he had shot on the boganida river in latitude 74â° n., no one had actually found the nest of this species till mr. h. leyborne popham (1898) visited the lower reaches of the yenesei in 1897. two years previously (august, 1895), he had met with family parties on the delta and had shot young which must have been reared in the neighborhood. on july 3, 1897, finding the way below golchika blocked by the ice, he turned back to explore an island of soft tundra with a rocky shore. one of his men called out that he had seen a sandpiper and at once, according to his own words: i sent the other two men away and lay down to watch the bird, which stood still for some time, then flew some distance away and i lost sight of it among some turnstones. we again saw the bird near the same spot, so hansen and i lay down to watch while the mosquitoes did their worst. the bird stood for some time watching us and then began running about; it was very difficult to keep it in sight for it took advantage of every little hollow to run in and every little ridge to hide behind. it then flew to another place and did the same thing again, so i asked hansen to get up and walk away. the bird remained quite motionless, watching him go, and then ran backwards and forwards and finally stopped still behind a small tuft of grass. after waiting for some minutes i raised my head slightly; the bird instantly flew off and stood watching, but, as it saw nothing moving, it began running about again and settled down in the same spot; then i felt sure i had a nest safe, but to make doubly sure i went through the same performance again, a shower of rain no doubt hastening matters, and this time i distinctly saw the bird shuffle the eggs under it. i jumped up, shot the bird as it ran away, and soon had the pleasure of looking at the first authentic eggs of the curlew sandpiper. the bird, which proved to be the female, remained silent throughout; at one time i thought i heard it make a sound like a dunlin, but, as i afterwards saw dunlins close by, i was probably mistaken. the next news comes from the russian explorers who wintered on the coast of the taimyr peninsula in 1900-1901. in doctor walter's posthumous notes he writes that the curlew sandpiper nested in numbers near his winter quarters. the nests were placed in grassy places and by mid-june (old style) contained full clutches. on the approach of anyone the sitting birds, warned by their mates, left the nests quickly and both birds remained very passive and unobtrusive. usually a long wait was necessary before the female returned to the nest, and often the watch resulted in failure. some individuals also wander about in flocks through the breeding season, and later on young and old collect in large flocks and stay till late in the autumn. doctor walter collected three clutches of eggs here, and another russian naturalist, dr. katin jartzew, also took several on kotelni island, in the new siberian isles, in 1902. since that date the only information we have received is that furnished by miss haviland (mrs. brindley), who visited the delta of the yenesei in 1914. in her account (1915) of her travels she writes: on july 6, as i was returning from a long round over the tundra that lay in the northern angle of the yenesei and golchika rivers, all at once i saw a little rufous curlew, which was standing on a tussock about 20 yards away, watching me quietly. when i stopped she flew away, but soon alighted again and looked at me. full of excitement, but still rather skeptical as to the likelihood of finding eggs, i lay down and watched her, but at the end of an hour and a half i could come to no conclusion, for the bird only strolled about and preened herself nonchalantly. i was not even certain of her sex, and her solitude and her quiet behavior made me doubt whether, after all, she might not be a nonbreeding bird. nevertheless, i marked the place and turned homeward, meaning to come back next day. on the morrow i turned out early and tramped over 8 swampy miles of tundra. the second pair of sandpipers were not to be seen, but the first bird was still pottering round the same spot. to-day she was a little more demonstrative and flew about uneasily. once she uttered a sharp, anxious note, _wick-wick-wick_, two or three times repeated. by this time i was convinced that the nest was close at hand, but it was difficult to locate it, for although the bird could dodge me successfully enough behind tussocks of moss only 6 inches high, my person unfortunately was too bulky for these, the only available hiding places. the ground was on a very gradual slope. on the right hand and on the left were two small tarns, still covered with blue ice. in the distance grazed some herds of reindeer, and once a samoyede sledge glided swiftly over a ridge. heavy drifts of snow still lay in the sheltered hollow, and the sleet showers that came slapping over the tundra made me glad to wrap myself up in my burberry coat. the bird had whirled away round the tarn at my approach, so i hid myself as well as i could behind a tussock and settled down to wait for her return. twenty minutes passed--half an hour. "it's time she was coming back," thought i, and turned my head carefully to reconnoiter. and lo and behold, not 30 yards behind, the sandpiper stood and studied me contemptuously! she had been watching all the time. "what a fool!" doubtless would have been her comment if she could have spoken. it is no use to try and gull the waders; up to a certain point i believe that they can almost see you _think_! i retired abashed to another hiding place about 50 yards farther up the slope. the bird at once showed her appreciation of this move by flying toward the spot where i had first seen her. she was so small that it was very difficult to mark her as she tripped between the tussocks. when i thought that she must be settled on her eggs i jumped up quickly. she took wing at once, but when i went to the place whence she had risen there was no sign of the nest. this happened twice; but as she returned to the same spot each time, i knew that the treasure was there all right and that patience would win it. i marked the bird down by a dodge that i used when looking for gray plover's eggs under similar circumstances and which is described elsewhere; but each time that i flushed her she seemed to jump up from a different place. she was so little and so nimble that she could run over the moss for some yards before she was seen. the next time i gave her ample time to settle down and lay still in the wet, sucking lumps of sugar until i nearly fell asleep. then all at once a buffon's skua came overhead, flying low in the squally wind. i snatched my gun and shot him as he flew by, and as he fell i saw the sandpiper spring up from a spot where i had marked her once before. i left the skua and ran up to the place. the bird began to call again and drooped a wing to decoy me away. half a minute's search and there was the nest at my feet. _eggs._--the clutch consists of four eggs normally, blunt pyriform in shape with slight gloss. walter describes the ground as pale yellowish white with greenish tinge and large and small blackish-brown spots, more confluent at large end. there are also a few pale violet-gray shell marks. they are snipelike in character, and the markings are rich and handsome, sometimes ranging to deep rufous brown in color. their small size, combined with bold type of markings, renders them readily recognizable. the measurements of 20 eggs average 36.26 by 25.67 millimeters, the eggs showing the four extremes measure =39.6= by 25.6, 37.5 by =26.4=, =33.3= by 25.3, and 36.6 by =25= millimeters. _incubation._--the bird which popham shot from the eggs was a female, but both males and females were obtained from the nests by the russian ornithologists, so that apparently the duty is shared by both sexes. _plumages._--the molts and plumages are fully described in "a practical handbook of british birds," edited by h. f. witherby (1920), to which the reader is referred. _food._--on its breeding grounds the main food of this species consists of insects. cordeaux has found remains of coleoptera and diptera and their larvae in stomachs. worms are also freely taken, but on migration it is a coastal species and subsists chiefly on marine forms, such as the small crustacea (gammaridae) which are found in vast numbers on the shore, minute mollusca, and vegetable matter. _behavior._--even in the breeding season this species shows signs of a sociable disposition, several pairs breeding frequently at no great distance apart. when the young are fledged they assemble in flocks before leaving for the south and during the winter months may be found on the mud flats of our estuaries and flat coasts, as well as occasionally on reservoirs and sewage farms inland. during the breeding season it appears to be a silent bird, only a shrill alarm note, _wick-wick-wick_, being noted, while the shore haunting flocks keep up a long twitter. _fall._--the migrations of this species are very extensive, reaching over practically the whole of the old world. to the british isles it is a passage migrant, arriving from the end of july to late october and occasionally november. in denmark the old birds are said to arrive in august and the birds of the year in september, leaving in september-october. on the shores of the baltic it occurs commonly, but seems to avoid the extreme west of europe on its way south, though passing tangier in september and occurring in small numbers in portugal. it is also met with on passage in all the mediterranean countries, as well as north africa and passes the canaries on migration. it ranges on the west side of africa to gaboon, liberia, the gold coast, princes island, loango, and south to cape province. while on the east side it is recorded from the nile valley, the red sea, sudan, mozambique, zanzibar, nyassaland, madagascar, etc., and it occurs regularly on mauritius. in asia it ranges across the continent to the indian ocean, the mekran coast, sind, yarkand, india, ceylon, the andamans nicobars, burmese coast, malacca peninsula, hainan, formosa, and east china. further, it has been recorded from the malay archipelago, java, borneo, new guinea, the philippines, moluccas, and has also been found in australia (west australia and new south wales), tasmania, and new zealand. in america there are two canadian records, one from toronto and one from nova scotia; while in the eastern states it has occurred in maine, massachusetts, new jersey, and long island, and has been recorded from grenada and carriacou, lesser antilles, and also in patagonia. in alaska it has once been obtained at point barrow. distribution _breeding range._--the supposed instances of breeding in western greenland are now discredited, and the only definitely known breeding places are in eastern siberia, from the delta of the yenesei to latitude 74â° on the taimyr peninsula and northward, as well as on the liakhof isles and other islands of the new siberian group. _spring migration._--dates: rio de oro (n. w. africa), april 27; gibraltar, april 24; egypt, may 8; barcelona and santander, may; malaga, may 9; corsica, may 7, 8, and 16; italy, april 1-june 5: malta, may 7, 12, 13, 27; greece, april 15, 28, but chiefly may; corfu, passage lasts till end of may; transylvania, may 29; cyprus, may 20, 24; lake baikal, may; allaliabad, may 17; amoy, china, may 16; archangel, june 18; boganida river, may 27; arrives north taimyr, june 4. _fall migration._--dates: belfast, ireland, august 25 to end of september; portugal, september; italy, september 15-october 30; cyprus, september 2; greece, arrives september; tangier, september; yarkand, august-september; karachi, september; gilgit, august-september; selangor, august; mergui archipelago, november 6; ceylon, october; lower pegu, august; transvaal, november 24; natal, october 18. _casual records._--aldabra island, madagascar, november 6; madeira, april 30, september 22 and october 7 and november 27. new zealand, canterbury, february 3, 1902; april 5, 1903 (2); otago, march, 1903; grenada (wells); bering island (steller). there are several records for this species for north america, some dating back to the earlier days of american ornithology. in some cases the details are indefinite and can not be considered as absolutely trustworthy. among the occurrences recorded are: lesser antilles, grenada (cory, 1892), and carriacou (clark, 1905); new jersey, great egg harbor, two in the spring of 1829, long beach, barnegat bay, july 29, 1904, and tuckerton and cape may (stone, according to c. c. abbott, 1868); new york, nearly a dozen specimens at fulton market secured on long island (giraud, 1844), long island (?) june 9, 1891; shinnecock bay, may 24, 1883; connecticut, near hartford, october 3, 1859, new haven, august 30, 1886, and june, 1874; massachusetts, cape ann, fall of 1865, east boston, early may, 1866, nahant, about 1869, ipswich, about 1875, cape cod, about may 10, 1878, and chatham, august 26, 1889; maine, scarboro, september 9, 1875 (?), and pine point, september 15, 1881; new brunswick, grand manan; nova scotia, halifax, october, 1864, and september, 1868; ontario, toronto, about 1886 (fleming); and alaska, point barrow, june 6, 1883. _egg dates._--full clutches on north taimyr, june 24; liakhof isles, june 24; taimyr, july 1 (incubated) and july 6 (fresh); yenesei delta, july 3 and july 7. eurynorhynchus pygmeus (linnaeus) spoon-bill sandpiper habits this unique little sandpiper has a very restricted breeding range in extreme northeastern siberia, whence it migrates to southern asia and wanders very rarely to extreme northwestern alaska. joseph dixon (1918) says: "there are but three specimens claimed to have been taken in north america, as far as known to the author, with some doubt attached to the locality of capture of one of these." he has shown that the bird supposed to have been taken on the choris peninsula, kotzebue sound, alaska, by captain moore, of the british ship "plover," was really taken in northeastern asia in 1849, and that no authentic record for north america has been established since that time until 1914. he says further: the only well-established occurrence of the spoonbilled sandpiper in america is that vouched for by fred granville, of los angeles, california, who, on august 15, 1914, took two specimens at wainwright inlet, on the arctic coast of alaska. one of these specimens, a female, is now number 3552 in the collection of a. b. howell, of covina, california, while the other, a male, is number 1698 in the collection of g. willett, of los angeles. referring to the capture of these two birds, he quotes from mr. granville's letter of january 9, 1918, as follows: on august 15, 1914, i and my assistant hiked back of wainwright to what i judged to be a distance of about 10 miles, traveling in a northerly direction. the tundra where i found the spoonbills was interlaced as far as the eye could see with little lagoons and long channels of water, and in this territory i collected the two spoonbills. these birds were shot out of a flock of possibly 10. i followed them for about an hour before i could get a shot at them. the birds would run along the tundra en masse and were undoubtedly gleaning food from the moss. the minute they would catch sight of me they would fly out of shotgun range. there were about six birds that looked to me through field glasses to be in markedly different plumage from the birds i shot. these six birds, immature as i supposed, seemed to be of a solid color, and that a dark gray. on the first shot fired, with which i got two, the birds flew across a lake and i lost track of them, though i spent four or five hours looking for some more. i believe that these birds breed in the neighborhood of wainwright and hope that at some close future date some one will bear out my statement. _spring._--there is an adult male in nuptial plumage in the british museum, which was taken at shanghai, china, in april. the only other information we have about the spring migration is the following brief statement by dr. e. w. nelson (1883): on the northeast coast of siberia nordenskiold records this bird as occurring in such numbers that on two occasions in spring it was served upon their mess table on board the "vega" while they were lying frozen in at their winter quarters. it arrived in spring at tapkau, with the first bare spots, early in june, and disappeared in july. to the westward, in the same vicinity, during the summer of 1881, i saw several of these birds, and at plover bay, on the bering sea shore of the same coast, secured a fine adult female in breeding plumage, taken on june 26. nothing peculiar was observed in its habits, and i approached the bird without difficulty or its showing the slightest concern as it stood on the flat at that place. the bird was first seen feeding in the shallow water at the edge of a pool, and then stood with its head drawn back and without paying the slightest attention to me until it was shot. _courtship._--mr. dixon (1918) has made a thorough study of this species and has given us a fine account of its interesting song flight, illustrated by a diagram, from which i quote, as follows: the song and nuptial flight of the male spoonbill, attractive as they were to the collector, in sight of such rare birds at last, were as elusive as a will-o'-the-wisp. in fact we were never able to locate a female spoonbill on the nest, and i have always believed that our lack of success in this regard was due to the warning given by the male. upon approaching the nest site, while we were yet afar off, we were greeted by the male in full song. this song, ventriloquial, pulsating, and cicadalike in quality, seemed to come first from one and then from another point in the heaven above. sometimes we searched the sky altogether in vain, but usually the bird was discovered in rapid flight at an altitude of two or three hundred feet above the earth. the nuptial flight consists of momentary poises alternating with rapid dips. when the bird hovers or poises, the rapid beating of the wings is accompanied by a fine, rhythmical, pulsating, buzzing trill, _zee-e-e, zee-e-e, zee-e-e_, rapidly repeated. following this the bird approaches the intruder, swinging down in a sharp curve until 10 feet lower than the previous hovering point, where he again poises on rapidly beating wings, pouring forth anew his insistent, musical trill. after repeating this performance four or five times the songster sweeps down in a long graceful curve until he almost touches the earth near his brooding mate, then curving off, he turns and rises rapidly and almost perpendicularly until almost out of sight. from this new point of vantage the whole performance is repeated. after four or five such excursions, in each of which the intruder is approached from a different direction, the guardian of the nest descends by raising his wings nearly vertically until they form in anterior outline the letter v. the bird thus gliding on motionless wings drops lightly but quickly to earth, uttering the _zee-e-e_ in a richer yet more subdued tone. as soon as he touches the earth the song ceases and the silent bird trots quietly off over the moss, where his trim form blends with the lichen and mossy tussocks, so that, upon remaining motionless, he disappears with amazing rapidity. time and time again we thus lost sight of the birds, which we later discovered by the aid of binoculars to be standing or squatting motionless within 50 feet of us. although this "fading out" method of exit is commonly employed by many shore birds, in the case of the spoonbilled sandpiper it seems to have been developed to an extreme degree. _nesting._--to f. e. kleinschmidt is due the credit for finding the first nest of the spoonbill sandpiper near cape serdze, northeastern siberia, on july 15, 1910. the nest and the four eggs, which were nearly hatched, are now in the collection of col. john e. thayer. the following extract from captain kleinschmidt's letter in regard to it was published by colonel thayer (1911): i was in hopes that i could get five or six clutches of the spoonbills, so i took all kinds of chances with my boat in the ice on the siberian coast. i found, however, but one set of eggs and they were just ready to hatch. the male is the parent bird of the eggs, but the female belongs to neither eggs nor downies, simply because the habits of this sandpiper are similar to those of the phalarope. the male has to stay at home, keep house, and attend to the young, while the female thinks she has done all that is necessary by merely fulfilling the duties nature demands of her, namely, the laying of the eggs. i shot the female in close proximity of the nest, but we never found a female with the downies. it was always the male. although our observations were limited to but a few, still i believe the male solely attends to the hatching and the rearing of the young. the female also is larger than the male. the nest as well as the downies were found on the gentle slope of the tundra, bordering small fresh-water ponds. the nest was a rounded hollow in the moss, thickly lined with dry willow leaves. the downies blend so perfectly with the color of the moss that the closest scrutiny will scarcely reveal their hiding place. mr. dixon (1918) found a nest, with two fresh eggs, near providence bay, siberia, on june 22, 1913, and one, with three young just hatched, near cape serdze, on july 17, 1913. regarding his experience with it, he writes: the two nests of this bird that came under the author's observation were discovered through flushing the brooding male. the birds were very shy, and as there was no cover other than a thin growth of grass about 6 inches high approach by stealth was difficult. the birds usually sneaked off while the observer was 40 or 50 yards distant, and in order to find the nest it was necessary to hide, as best one could, near the place where the sandpiper had flushed, until it returned again to the nest. in one instance a depression partly filled with water was the only available hiding place. fortunately for the watcher the water was not cold and the male bird returned in 12 minutes to the nest, which contained two _fresh_ eggs. the nest of this sandpiper was found to be merely a cavity scratched out among the dead grass blades. it was a shallow affair placed where the grass grew thickest. on june 22, 1913, at providence bay, the writer witnessed the construction of a nest from a distance of about 40 feet. the bird, a male, scratched and then picked at the dead and matted grass blades and moss until he had dug out quite a hole. then he squatted down in the depression and twisted about, pressing against the moss that formed the sides of the nest, until a cavity about 3-1/2 inches in diameter and an inch deep was formed. dead leaves from a creeping arctic willow that grew in the moss near-by were used to line the nest. there are two sets of eggs, one of three and one of two, in the united states national museum, taken by louis l. lane, at cape serdze in june, 1912, but no further data came with them. _eggs._--the small sets referred to above were probably incomplete; doubtless four eggs is the normal set. the six eggs in the thayer collection are subpyriform in shape and have a slight gloss. the ground color is uniform in all of them; it is between "cinnamon buff" and "dark olive buff," or a warm shade of the latter. three eggs are finely speckled all over, only a little more thickly at the larger end, with light browns, "tawny" and "snuff brown"; one egg is heavily blotched at the larger end with "verona brown" and "warm sepia," and only sparingly spotted elsewhere. j. h. riley tells me that the eggs taken by louis lane vary in ground color from a warm tint of "dark olive buff" to "deep olive buff." the set of two is rather evenly but not heavily marked over the surface with small blotches, dots, and scrawls of two shades of "bister," with a few shell markings of "drab" here and there over the surface. one egg of the set has the "bister" markings larger and thicker on the large end. the other set has the spots larger and heavier at the large end, and in two eggs they are darker, "clove brown" or even "blackish brown." the shape is subpyriform. the measurements of these 11 eggs average 30.4 by 21.8 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =33= by 22.8, 30.5 by =23.3=, =28.7= by 20.8, and 29.3 by =20.3= millimeters. _young._--regarding incubation and care of the young, mr. dixon (1918) writes: regarding the time required for incubation, we have only circumstantial evidence to offer, but our observations lead us to believe that about 18 or 20 days elapse between the time the last egg is laid and the first young hatched. the most striking fact in the domestic life of the spoonbilled sandpiper is that the major portion of the household duties, aside from the actual laying of the eggs, is performed by the male and not the female bird. in addition to our own observations, kleinschmidt also has found this to be the case. in the author's experience, none of the several females taken were found on or within 50 feet of the nest. it is possible, however, that they may have been warned by the male birds and had sneaked off before we were close enough to detect their leaving. in the unequal division of domestic duties conditions among the spoonbills are similar to those among the phalaropes, where the male, after he has been courted and won by the larger and more brilliant female, takes upon himself almost all of the household cares. however, in the case of the spoonbilled sandpiper there is nothing to show that the female does the courting, although she is the larger of the two. the female spoonbill is thus seemingly content to merely lay the eggs, while she lets the male build the nest, incubate the eggs, and take care of the young. in corroboration of the latter statements, the author observed a male bird building a nest at providence bay, siberia, june 22, 1913; another male was flushed repeatedly from a nest containing two fresh eggs near the same place, on the same day, while a third male was found tending three downy young at cape serdze, siberia, on july 17, 1913. on july 17, 1913, at cape serdze, siberia, while strolling along the spongy green turf beside a fresh-water pond, my attention was attracted by the "broken wing" antics of a spoonbilled sandpiper. although my eyes remained "glued" on the spot from which the bird arose, no nest or sign of young could be found when i reached the place. soon a second bird, presumably the female, arrived on the scene. both appeared much concerned, and from their actions i felt sure that there were young near by. a careful search of the short grass, which was not over 2 inches high, failed to reveal any living creature. i therefore retired to a grassy mound about 20 yards away and awaited developments. both parent birds, giving their alarm notes, circled about overhead, where they were soon joined by a pair each of eastern least and temminck's stints. the two pairs of stints were later found to have broods of downy young in the grass on the opposite shore of the lagoon near by. soon both spoonbills flew off across the lagoon and disappeared, but the male returned promptly, alighting quietly near the margin of the pond. here he stood motionless for nearly a minute, and then trotted through the grass directly to the spot from which i had first flushed him. at this point he stood still for another full minute, during which time he looked all around, seemingly to make sure that the coast was clear. having satisfied himself that no active enemy was in sight he stepped forward and bending over uttered a soft call in a low tone, _plee-plee-plee_. this call was repeated a second time, and instantly there arose directly in front of him a tiny mouse-like brown form, seemingly rising from out of the very ground. with tottering unsteady steps the downy young sandpiper stumbled and fell toward the parent, who continued calling and encouraging it. upon my sudden appearance the old bird gave a quick warning note and at this signal the youngster squatted motionless with neck stretched forward on the ground. although i knew the exact spot where it disappeared, it was some time before i was able to locate the tiny form, so well did it blend with the clump of reddish moss upon which it had squatted. a careful search revealed no other young sandpipers, so i returned to my hiding place. this time i had to wait longer for the male to return, and while i was waiting a second sandpiper, which i believed to be the female, arrived but did not go near or call the young. two or three minutes elapsed this time between the return of the male and the giving of the low call notes, when, as before, another downy young quickly arose at the signal and toddled over to its parent. after this second experience i was forced to change my hiding place, as the male sandpiper refused to return to the young until i moved. he seemed much concerned upon this last visit, probably realizing that it was high time the young should be hovered and warmed. i could not understand why all the young had not risen at once in answer to the parent's call, but i noticed that he had in each case gone up to within less than two feet of the one in hiding, and then with lowered head facing the chick, gave the call note. in each case it was the youngster thus directly addressed that responded to the signal and arose. the note of the young was a low rusty squeak, scarcely audible to human ears. it was very similar to the note of the young semipalmated sandpiper. as far as my observations went, there was no attempt on the part of the parent to feed the young, and it is my belief that from the time they are hatched the young spoonbills hunt their own food. the exercise thus gained was found in the case of young semipalmated sandpipers to be essential to the health of the chicks. in addition to keeping warm by running about the young spoonbills are hovered and warmed at regular intervals by the parent. the brood mentioned above had survived a fairly severe snowstorm on the preceding day. _plumages._--the most remarkable thing about the downy young spoonbill sandpiper is the well developed spoon-shaped bill, even when first hatched. as will be seen by referring to colonel thayer's (1911) excellent colored plate, this is much shorter than the adult bill and the spatulate tip is more oval. the crown, back, rump, wings, and thighs are variegated with black, white, "ochraceous tawny" and paler buffs, dotted with white terminal tufts on the head, which form two white stripes from the eyes to the nape, and dotted with both white and buff tufts on the back and rump; the forehead, a superciliary stripe, the sides of the head, the throat, and the neck are "warm buff"; the rest of the under parts are white; a median frontal stripe, a loral stripe, and a malar spot are black. the juvenal plumage i have never seen. birds collected on the southward migration are apparently all in winter plumages; young birds are distinguishable from adults at this age. for descriptions of first winter and subsequent plumages i would refer the reader to ridgway's birds of north and middle america. i have not studied sufficient material to work out the seasonal molts, but they are apparently similar to those of other small sandpipers of the genus _pisobia_. _food._--the food of the spoonbill sandpiper seems not to have been definitely determined, but mr. dixon (1918) watched a pair feeding, of which he says: our observations disclosed no peculiar advantage attending the singular shape of this sandpiper's bill, though careful watch was kept to see just how this member was used. on july 17, 1913, a pair of spoonbilled sandpipers was watched for half an hour as the two birds fed within 50 feet of the observer, concealed behind a sandy dune. their favorite feeding ground was a fresh-water pond with a fringe of green algae about the sandy border. under these conditions the birds used their bills, as any other sandpipers would, as probes to pick out insects or larvae from the algae. occasionally one would hesitate a moment, when the vascular tip of the mandible quivered slightly as though the bird were straining something out of the green algae. at this time the bill was held at nearly right angles to the surface of the water; it was never used as a scoop along the surface. _behavior._--i must again quote from mr. dixon (1918), who has furnished most of our information about this little known species. referring to behavior and recognition marks he writes: in color, size, and actions the spoonbilled sandpiper closely resembles the eastern least stint (_pisobia minuta ruficollis_), the marked similarity between them resulting in both the author and his fellow collector w. s. brooks, failing to distinguish between the two species until june 20, after we had been among them for some days. although the spatulate tip of this bird's bill is very noticeable when viewed from directly above or below, it is not a character which can be advantageously used to identify the species in the field, for the simple reason that in nearly all close views of the living bird only lateral or frontal aspects of the bill are obtained. even when a bird was feeding, and the bill was observed under the most favorable conditions, the peculiar shape was not nearly as conspicuous as one would expect. in the author's experience, the most reliable method of identifying the bird in the field was by noting the glint of light that was reflected from the broad tip of the upper mandible when the sunlight struck the bill at a certain angle. even in flight the bird could often be identified by this faint beam of reflected light. we found that the sandpiper had a decided preference for the grassy margins of fresh-water ponds, while single birds were frequently found feeding along the algae-bordered rims of tundra pools. sandy lagoons where rivers entered the bay were favored by them as well. _fall._--the same writer outlines the fall migration, based on birds in the british museum, as follows: an adult male, still in summer plumage, was taken august 8, at the mouth of the amur river in southwestern russia. an immature was secured on october 8 at hakodadi (hakodate), japan, while an adult female was collected at rangoon, india, on december 1. _winter._--in their winter home in india, according to doctor nelson (1887) "these birds frequent the muddy flats at the mouths of rivers, sand bars, and the seashore, where, with the various species of _tringa_, they always find an abundant harvest of food deposited by the receding tide." distribution _range._--eastern siberia, south in winter to southern china and india; casual in alaska. _breeding range._--the spoonbilled sandpiper has been found breeding only along the arctic coast of northeast siberia (cape wankarem, pithkaj, cape serdze, near koliuchin island, and providence bay). _winter range._--the winter range of this species appears to be mainly on the coasts of india (rangoon, akyab, tenasserim, and the arakan coast). _migration._--specimens have been collected at shanghai, china, in april and it seems to arrive on its breeding grounds early in june (emma harbor, siberia, june 6). an early date of fall arrival is indicated by a specimen from the mouth of the amur river, southwestern russia, taken on august 8, while a late date of fall departure is october 8, at hakodadi, japan. _casual records._--a specimen of this sandpiper has been reported as taken on the choris peninsula, alaska, in 1849 (harting, 1871), but subsequent investigation (dixon, 1918) indicates that the bird was probably taken on the siberian side of bering strait. two specimens were, however, taken near wainwright inlet, on august 15, 1914 (dixon, 1918). _egg dates._--siberia: 2 records, june 22 and july 15. ereunetes pusillus (linnaeus) semipalmated sandpiper habits _contributed by charles wendell townsend_ this little sandy colored sandpiper, appropriately called the "sand peep," seems most at home on the sea beaches, but it also frequents the sand flats of tidal estuaries, and to a less extent, the salt marshes, and is even found on the shores of inland lakes during the migrations. _courtship._--although i have never seen this bird on its northern breeding grounds, i have been so fortunate as to have heard many times the courtship song during the migrations on the new england coast, and to have witnessed some, at least, of its posturing on the ground. this sandpiper is more of a musician than the least, and his song is well worth hearing. i can but repeat what i have already published on the subject (1905): rising on quivering wings to about 30 feet from the ground, the bird advances with rapid wing beats, curving the pinions strongly downward, pouring forth a succession of musical notes--a continuous quavering trill--and ending with a few very sweet notes that recall those of a goldfinch. he then descends to the ground where one may be lucky enough, if near at hand, to hear a low musical _cluck_ from the excited bird. this is, i suppose, the full love flight song, and is not often heard in its entirety, but the first quavering trill is not uncommon, a single bird or member of a flock singing this as he flies over. dr. joseph grinnell (1900) writes as follows of this species at cape blossom, alaska, in july: a few were to be found in the interior on damp, grassy flats, but the strip of low meadow bordering the lagoon back of the mission was by far the most popular resort. here the grass was short and smooth as a lawn, with occasional narrow branches from the main slough cutting their way back toward the higher ground. in one part of this stretch of tide flats the sandpipers were so numerous that as many as a dozen pairs were in sight at once, and their twittering notes were to be heard on all sides. they were flying back and forth over the meadows chasing one another, with shrill, rolling notes uttered so continuously as to become almost inaudible from their monotony. at times in an individual case this trilling would become so intensified as to remind one of the shrill notes of the white throated swift. joseph dixon (1917_a_), writing of a bird that sang at an elevation of about 50 feet above the nest says: "his song seemed to come from every direction, and this illusion was difficult to account for even by the unusual location of the songster." whether the _whinny_ heard from birds, many of which are posturing on the sand is a modification of the nuptial song or rather a partial reproduction of it, i do not know, but i am inclined to think it is. many of these musicians appear on close scrutiny to be young birds, which would explain the imperfection of the song. the posturing is often in the nature of mock fighting--i have never seen any real blows exchanged--when two, facing each other, crouch almost flat on the sand, and then suddenly spring at each other with wings outspread. again, two would slowly walk toward each other with neck and body almost touching the ground and with head up. this act is often performed with tail cocked up over the back, displaying a white triangle of tail coverts, and every now and then the birds would run at each other with outspread wings. all birds acting thus appeared to be uttering a series of rolling notes, which, emitted from a number of birds scattered over the flats, produces a considerable volume of sound. i have described this partial song as a _whinny_, and have tried to reduce it to syllables--_eh, eh, eh_, or _what-er, what-er_. lucien m. turner in his ungava notes records two individuals that "ran back and forth, uttering a purring twitter, holding their wings over their back with the head and neck depressed, while the posterior portion of the body was somewhat elevated. the throat was at times inflated and at other times every feather of the body was nearly reversed, presenting a strange sight." herbert w. brandt supplies the following from observations in alaska: the semipalmated sandpiper flies high into the air, often almost out of sight, and pours forth a sustained tinkling song, which sounds like its native name uttered as a high-pitched trill--"la-v-la-v-la-v." as it sings it rapidly fans the air with short wing beats, at the same time moving at considerable speed continuously back and forth over a distance of 50 yards or more. four of the birds which i took to be males were rather noisy, twittering, and purling, and occasionally one of them rushed at another as if he seriously intended to wage mortal combat. the feathers on his dainty neck stood out in an angered ruff; his wings were half spread, showing their light markings; and when the little warrior was just about to strike he folded his wings and elevated his tail until it was almost vertical above his long wing tips. there was, however, no real fight, for each one seemed to know his superior and gave way, after a little display, like a weaker rooster in a well-regulated barnyard. _nesting._--h. w. brandt contributes the following: the semipalmated sandpiper nests amid the short herbage on the grassy dunes near the moaning breakers of point dall, where it selects a site quite exposed to view. among the creeping berry vines the bird simply scratches a depression in the sand, and this it lines with a few disconnected grass stems, stiff moss stems, and a handful of tiny, crisp-dried leaves of the cranberry, willow, or dwarf birch. the range of measurements of five nests is: inside diameter, 2 to 2-1/2 inches; inside depth, 1-1/2 to 2 inches; total depth, 2-1/2 to 3-1/4 inches. the nest is very fragile and breaks up at once if disturbed. like all shore birds that nest in the open, the brooding bird is anything but a close sitter, and in consequence the nest must be found by diligent search. an incubating female was collected as it departed from the nest. roderick macfarlane, who found many nests of this species in the barren grounds, describes two of them as follows: nest was found between two small lakes--a few withered grasses and leaves in a shallow hole or depression, partly shaded from view by a tuft of grass. the nest was a mere depression in the midst of some hay and lined therewith, as well as with a few withered leaves. winthrop sprague brooks (1915) relates his experience in alaska as follows: thirteen nests were found, the first, a set of three fresh eggs, being taken on june 12. all the nests were essentially alike--mere cavities in damp tundra close to a pool, and lined with dry willow leaves. on seven nests the female was found, and the male on six. although the male seems to take about an equal share in brooding on the eggs and taking care of the young, i could not see that he did this at any particular time, for i could find either sex on the nest at midnight or midday. neither sex showed any more concern than the other when an intruder was at the nest. in most cases the bird disturbed would flutter along a few yards and then remain walking quietly and watching. on one occasion a female made a great disturbance. semipalmated sandpipers on the breeding ground are the most gentle and interesting birds of the north. _eggs._--[_author's note_: four eggs seems to be the invariable rule with the semipalmated sandpiper. they are usually ovate pyriform in shape with a tendency to become subpyriform. the shell is somewhat glossy. the eggs can not with certainty be distinguished from those of the least sandpiper on one hand or the western sandpiper on the other hand; the measurements overlap with both and the colors and markings intergrade with both. i have 11 sets of semipalmated, and i can match nearly every one of them with sets from my series of the other two species. in series, however, they much more closely resemble the least sandpiper. herbert w. brandt has sent me a description of his sets taken in alaska, which are probably of the normal type, as follows: in the six sets before me the ground color is uniformly dull white and is conspicuous. the markings are bold and individual, with most of them round instead of elongate, although there is a slight spiral tendency. these spots are dark, ranging from "claret brown" to "burnt lake," producing a deep red effect when examined in series. the underlying spots are numerous and rather conspicuous, due to the whitish ground color. they shade from "light quaker drab" to "quaker drab." less than half of my sets, all from alaska, would fit his description; the ground colors in most of mine vary from "pale olive buff" to "olive buff"; in some it is "deep olive buff," and in one "isabella color." the colors of the markings run from "liver brown" to "chestnut brown" in the darkest and from "hazel" to "cinnamon brown" in the lightest. there are comparatively few underlying drab markings. the eggs show the same variations in shape and arrangement of markings as eggs of the least sandpiper. i have two sets from point barrow, taken with the parent bird, which are almost exactly like eggs of the western sandpiper in color and style of markings but smaller, and several other sets approaching them in appearance. there are 10 sets of eggs in the museum of comparative zoology in cambridge collected by w. sprague brooks near demarcation point, alaska, with the parent bird in each case. three of these are of the western sandpiper type, and three others are similarly marked with different shades of brown. the measurements of 52 eggs average 30.2 by 21.2 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =32= by 21, 30 by =22=, =27.7= by 21.3, and 31.5 by =20= millimeters.] _young._--according to mr. dixon (1917_a_), incubation lasts 17 days. it is performed equally by the male and female, as is shown by mr. brooks's very conclusive report quoted above. mr. dixon (1917_a_), writing of birds observed in alaska says the young so exactly match the surroundings that they are invisible at 3 feet. he relates the case of a snowy owl that sailed from its perch in the direction of a brood of young which flattened and froze obedient to the alarm cry of the mother. the owl poised directly over them, but evidently failed to see them and flew away. on another occasion two parasitic jaegers flew by; the young flattened, and all escaped but one that began to move before the second jaeger had passed and was promptly snapped up. he says: it was found that the parents made no effort to feed the young. it was soon seen, however, that such care was not necessary. the young would stumble about and pick up minute gnats and flies with great dexterity, and the shallow algae-rimmed pools furnished them many a juicy "wriggler." the gait of the young sandpipers was a stumbling toddle, while their large feet and legs were all out of proportion to the rest of their slender bodies. by dropping and extending their wings they were able to use them as crutches, which often kept them from falling. in about a month they were fully fledged, and a week later the sandpipers were leaving for the south. _plumages._--[_author's note_: in natal down the young semipalmated most closely resembles the young western sandpiper, but it is generally paler, with less brown or rufous. the forehead, sides of the head, and all under parts are white, faintly washed on the cheeks and upper breast with pale buff; a median stripe on the forehead, reaching only halfway to the bill, a broad loral stripe, and a malar spot are black; there is a black spot in the center of the crown, broken by a few very small white dots, surrounded by "hazel" and bordered with black; a short stripe over the eye and an auricular patch are black and "hazel" mixed; between these and the crown patch there is a broad band of white dots, terminal tufts; the back, rump, wings, and thighs are variegated "hazel" and black, with numerous small white dots, terminal tufts. the bill is broad at the tip. young birds are in juvenal plumage when they reach the united states on the fall migration. they can be distinguished from adults by the buffy edgings above and by the absence of dusky streaks on the throat and upper breast. the feathers of the crown are edged with sandy buff and those of the back and scapulars with "ochraceous buff" or creamy white; the wing coverts are edged with pale buff; the upper breast is washed with buff and the rest of the under parts are white. this plumage is partially molted during september and october, producing a first winter plumage, which is like the adult winter plumage, except for the juvenal wing coverts, some scapulars, and a few body feathers, which are retained. at the first prenuptial molt, the next spring, young birds become practically adult. adults have a complete molt from july to november, the body plumage being molted first and the wings last, the latter sometimes not until winter. their partial prenuptial molt involves the body plumage, sometimes the tail and some wing coverts; it begins in february and lasts into may. the freshly molted spring plumage, in early may, has a "drab-gray" appearance, due to broad drab-gray tips on the feathers of the mantle; these tips soon wear away, revealing the bright colors of the nuptial plumage before the end of may.] _food._--i have recorded the following found by me in the stomachs of this species taken on the new england coast; insects of various kinds, including beetles, small mollusks (_littorina_), worms and crustaceans (_gammarus orchestia_), bits of seaweed and sand. dr. alexander wetmore (1916) records the contents of six stomachs from birds taken in porto rico in august; 99.16 per cent was animal matter, 0.84 per cent vegetable matter. beetles, bugs, fly pupae, and small mollusks form the bulk of the food. small water scavenger beetles (_hydrophilidae_) were found in four stomachs and amount to 27 per cent. two ground beetles (_bembidium_ sp.) amount to 5 per cent and miscellaneous beetles to 3.34 per cent. one bird had eaten nothing but four back swimmers (_notonecta_ sp.), and these made 16.66 per cent. fly pupae figure largely in two stomachs, forming 21.66 per cent of the total, and snails (_planorbis_ sp.) 13 per cent, while miscellaneous animal matter amounts to 12.50 per cent. the small quantity of vegetable matter present was rubbish. the numbers of diptera eaten speak well for this sandpiper. preble and mcatee (1923) found in the stomach of a bird shot in the pribilof islands "remains of the beach beetle (_aegialites californicus_), 10 per cent; fragments of small flies (diptera), 85 per cent; and two seeds (not identified), 5 per cent." arthur h. howell (1924) says, "two stomachs of these birds from alabama contained the remains of small mollusks, fly larvae and beetles. this species is known to feed on marine worms and mosquitoes." _behavior._--semipalmated sandpipers are fascinating birds to watch. when feeding on the beaches, they run along in a scattered flock just above the wave line, retreating rapidly as the wave advances, but sometimes being forced to flutter above it, all the time eagerly seeking for choice morsels. with head down, not held up as is the case with its companions the semipalmated plovers, it runs along dabbling here and there irregularly, and occasionally probing with its bill in the sand. these probings are not so deep nor so systematic as those of the sanderling, which makes a series of six to a dozen holes in succession throwing up the sand on either side. in its greediness the semipalmated sandpiper sometimes attempts to swallow too large a morsel for its small round mouth, which is much out of proportion to the stretch of the end of the bill, and many shakings of the head are needed to get a large morsel past the sticking point. i have seen one try several times to swallow a large beach flea (_talorchestia megalophthalma_), and then fly off with it in its bill. on a rocky shore i have seen them hunting for insects at high tide on the smooth rocks, and at low tide, running among the rocks covered with seaweed (_fucus vesiculsus_) and on the floating weed, fluttering their wings from time to time to keep from sinking. here they find plenty of food in the small mollusks and crustaceans, _littorina_ and _gammarus_. on an august day on the coast of maine i saw one searching about on floating rockweed several miles from land. shore birds doubtless often rest in this way in their long journeys over sea. in flight, semipalmated sandpipers in flocks, large and small, often move as one bird, twisting and turning with military precision, alternately displaying their light breasts and darker backs--flashing white and then almost disappearing. the method which enables shore birds, or, indeed, any flocking bird, to accomplish these evolutions is obscure. in the case of the semipalmated sandpiper these evolutions appear often to be made in silence, although it is of course possible that signals, not audible to the human observer, may be given. it has been suggested that telepathy or even that "a common soul" dominating the flock may be the interpretation, but both of these explanations are at present, at least, outside of scientific ken. i have noticed that birds who do not habitually execute evolutions, like english sparrows and the young of those that are skillful in this direction when adult, as for example, starlings, are much less proficient at this, and it seems to me possible that the whole thing may be accounted for by quickness of observation and of reaction, inherited and acquired. semipalmated sandpipers like other shore birds often stand on one leg and even hop along on it in feeding and they also sleep in this attitude. it is difficult to distinguish these from cripples, and one is easily deceived; the cripples seem as happy and tireless in feeding as the others. william brewster (1925) thus charmingly describes the habits of this bird in the wet and soft ground at lake umbagog: here they trot to and fro, almost as actively and ceaselessly as so many ants, picking up the inconspicuous worms or larvae from the surface of the ground and seeking them beneath it by thrusting down their sensitive bills quite to the nostrils, after the manner of boring snipe, but less quickly, vigorously, and persistently. they are also given to wading out into shallow water where they pull up good sized masses of aquatic plants, such as _utricularia_. by shaking and piercing these with their bills they evidently obtain from them food of some kind, perhaps insect larvae or small _crustacea_. at high tide on the beaches, when the wet sand with its bountiful food supply is covered, great flocks of this species, together with the least sandpiper, the sanderling, and the semipalmated plover, often spend an hour or more huddled together on the dry sand. each species keeps more or less separate. the birds generally face the wind, but sometimes they arrange themselves in the lee of bits of driftwood or other obstructions, and "tail out" down wind in long streamers as it were, each sheltered by the one next to windward. they sleep standing on one or both legs with the bill tucked under the feathers of the back--not "under the wing" as in poems--or they squat down, resting their breasts on the sand. they occasionally seem to yawn by stretching one wing over a leg. they also spread both wings above the back as do many other shore birds, and they flirt the bill nervously from side to side, to relieve their ennui, perhaps shaking the head at the same time. _voice._--the varied courtship songs and notes have been described above. their call note, to my ears, is very much like that of the least sandpiper, but shriller and less melodious. a harsh rasping note and a peeping sound are also given and a low, rolling gossipy note is often emitted when they approach other birds or decoys, a note that used to be imitated with deadly effect by gunners. john t. nichols (1920) says: the flight note of the semipalmated sandpiper is a rather loud "cherk," softer and less reedy than the analogous krieker "kerr." it is commonly modified to a softer "cher" or "che," which with much variation becomes the conversational twittering of members of a feeding flock. soft short, snappy "chips" are characteristic of flocks maneuvering about decoys * * * hurried cheeping notes ("ki-i-ip") on being flushed, are suggestive of the same note of the krieker. _field marks._--these have been discussed at length under least sandpiper to which the reader is referred, but may be summed up here as follows: a little larger than the least sandpiper, grayer, bill stouter and straight, tarsi and feet black, semipalmated. the young can be distinguished from the old in the field by their nearly white breasts washed with a smoky tint. in the hand their tarsi are seen to be black with a slight greenish hue. _game._--the fact that so many of these birds could be easily killed at one shot, and the fact that they were so fat and palatable broiled or cooked in a pie, made them always much sought after by the pot hunter. as large shore birds grew scarcer and it became more and more difficult for the gunner to fill his bag with them, "peep" shooting, even by sportsmen, was in vogue. the federal law has now wisely removed this species from the list of game birds and prevented its extinction. the bird has responded to this protection in a marked degree, and flocks of 500 or more are common and pleasing sights on our beaches where one-tenth of this number was once rare. the shooting of semipalmated sandpipers occurred largely on the beaches. the gunner dug a hole in the sand, banked it up, and put brush and driftwood, often reinforced with seaweed, on the ramparts. at a convenient distance decoys of wood or tin were placed, arranged like a flock of birds with their heads pointing to the wind. occasionally large clamshells were stuck in the sand, simulating very well a flock of peep. much depended on the skill of the gunner in calling down the birds as they flew along, by cunningly imitating their notes and by his care in keeping concealed and motionless until the moment that he delivered his fire. to bring down a score of birds from a closely packed flock required but little skill, where, to pick off a single peep, flying erratically and swiftly by, called for well-seasoned judgment; but the chances for these birds were small indeed when the beaches were lined with inviting decoys and concealed whistling gunners. _fall._--on the new england coast the semipalmated sandpiper is a little later in migration than its colleague, the least sandpiper. july 10 to october 30 are the usual dates, but few are seen after september 20. the adults come first, but after the middle of august the young appear, to be distinguished by their nearly white breasts washed with a smoky tint, and by their more unsuspecting ways. the extraordinary abundance of this species at certain times on migration is well illustrated by what stuart t. danforth (1925) says of it in porto rico. he writes: the semipalmated sandpiper is by far the most abundant shore bird at cartagena lagoon, though it occurs only as a fall migrant. i have records from august 13 to october 20, 1924. during the latter part of august they are present in almost unbelievable numbers. i hardly dare estimate their numbers, but on august 26, when they were at the height of their abundance, i am sure that 100,000 would have been a low estimate of their numbers. they simply swarmed over the mud flats. on this date, although i was trying to avoid shooting them, i got 16 while shooting other birds. they were so abundant that stray shots could not help killing numbers of them. on other days many were also unintentionally shot in the same manner. in fact, all but 4 of the 36 that i collected were shot in this way. this species prefers the mud flats, but when they were so excessively abundant some were forced to feed in the sedge and grass associations, and when the fall rains came a little later practically all of them were forced to the sedges and grasses and even to the cane fields. but within a few days after this most of them left for parts unknown. distribution _range._--north america, south america, the west indies, and northeastern siberia; accidental in europe. _breeding range._--the semipalmated sandpiper breeds north to the northeastern coast of siberia (plover bay); alaska (point hope, point barrow, barter island, camden bay, and demarcation point); yukon (probably herschel island); mackenzie (franklin bay), victoria land; northern keewatin (cape fullerton); labrador (okak); and newfoundland. east to labrador (okak). south to labrador (okak); newfoundland; northern quebec (fort george); southern keewatin (severn river); probably eastern manitoba (york factory and fort churchill); mackenzie (fort anderson); and alaska (pastolik). west to alaska (pastolik, hooper bay, st. michael, probably nome, port clarence, kowak river, probably cape blossom, and point hope); and northeastern siberia (plover bay). _winter range._--north to sonora (hermosillo); texas (fort brown, corpus christi, and refugio county); louisiana (state game preserve, marsh island, false river, and hog bayou); and south carolina (bulls point). east to south carolina (bulls point, sea islands, frogmore, and port royal); georgia (chatham county, blackbeard island, darien, and st. marys); florida (mosquito inlet and st. lucie); bahama islands (great inagua); haiti (monte christi and sanchez); porto rico; lesser antilles (antigua, barbados, carriacou, grenada, and trinidad); french guiana (cayenne); and brazil (island mexiana, island cajetuba, and bahia). south to brazil (bahia); rarely patagonia (nuevo gulf); and peru (parecas bay). west to peru (parecas bay); colombia (cartagena and sabanillo); guatemala (san jose); valley of mexico; sinaloa (mazatlan); and sonora (hermosillo). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival in the spring are: north carolina, highlands, april 12, and raleigh, april 13; virginia, cobb island, may 14, and smiths island, may 16; district of columbia, washington, may 10; pennsylvania, grove city, may 3, and milford, may 9; new jersey, elizabeth, may 6; new york, orient, april 16, canandaigua, april 26, geneva, may 5, and rochester, may 7; connecticut, saybrook, may 9, and norwalk, may 11; massachusetts, monomoy island, april 22, ipswich, april 24; maine, lewiston, may 6; quebec, may 2; missouri, appleton city, april 3, and boonville, april 16; illinois, springfield, april 25, quincy, may 3; indiana, camden, april 18, bicknell, april 24, and bloomington, april 26; ohio, lakeside, may 3, new bremen, may 5, and oberlin, may 7; michigan, ann arbor, april 1; ontario, toronto, may 14, and ottawa, may 14; iowa, keokuk, april 19, emmetsburg, april 27, and sioux city, may 2; wisconsin, elkhorn, may 1, and madison, may 7; minnesota, wilder, april 19, jackson, april 24, and hallock, may 9; kansas, mcpherson, april 15, lawrence, may 5, and emporia, may 9; nebraska, neligh, april 30, omaha, may 4, and lincoln, may 5; south dakota, sioux falls, may 5, and harrison, may 8; manitoba, gimli, may 10, and shoal lake, may 19; saskatchewan, dinsmore, may 13, and indian head, may 19; and mackenzie, fort chipewyan, may 24, and fort simpson, may 26. late dates of spring departure are: cuba, guantanamo, may 8, and mariel, may 10; the bahama islands, hog island, april 27, salt key, may 5, and inagua, may 27; florida, whitfield, may 11, fort de soto, may 25, and st. marks, may 26; georgia, savannah, may 22; south carolina, ladys island, may 26; north carolina, fort macon, may 17, cape hatteras, may 20, and raleigh, may 22; virginia, smiths island, may 22, and cape charles, may 27; district of columbia, washington, may 22; pennsylvania, warren, may 24, and erie, june 4; new jersey, camden, may 25, long beach, june 1, and elizabeth, june 18; new york, rochester, june 2, syracuse, june 4, poughkeepsie, june 5, geneva, june 8, and new york city, june 15; connecticut, norwalk, may 30, and fairfield, june 9; rhode island, sakonnet point, june 4; massachusetts, dennis, may 30, lynn, june 2, and harvard, june 9; maine, portland, june 3; louisiana, lobdell, may 28; missouri, boonville, may 31; illinois, oak park, may 26, shawneetown, may 27, and chicago, june 13; ohio, oberlin, june 1, port clinton, june 3, and lakeside, june 10; michigan, sault ste. marie, may 31, and detroit, june 2; ontario, toronto, june 2, hamilton, june 5, and todmorden, june 13; iowa, clear lake, may 20, mason city, may 27, and sioux city, may 30; wisconsin, madison, may 31; minnesota, leech lake, may 27, minneapolis, june 1, and lanesboro, june 3; texas, texas city, may 17, point isabel, may 19, and gainesville, may 24; kansas, fort riley, may 22, republican fork, may 25, emporia, may 27, and stafford county, june 6; nebraska, long pine, may 25, valentine, may 30, and lincoln, june 8; south dakota, faulkton, may 27, forestburg, june 2, and harrison, june 3; manitoba, may 31, dominion city, june 1, and shoal lake, june 14; and saskatchewan, quill lake, june 11, and kutanajan lake, june 13. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrival are: british columbia, okanagan landing, july 15, atlin, july 16, and courtenay, july 24; colorado, larimer county, july 18; saskatchewan, quill lake, july 4, and kiddleston, july 16; manitoba, russell, july 11, red deer river, july 23, and shoal lake, august 3; north dakota, mouse river, august 10; south dakota, forestburg, august 2; kansas, emporia, august 31; texas, brownsville, october 1, and lake worth, october 19; minnesota, st. vincent, july 24; iowa, sioux city, july 12, and winnebago county, july 29; ontario, todmorden, july 21, and amherstburg-colchester, july 29; michigan, charity island, july 9, and detroit, july 22; ohio, columbus, july 12, bay point, july 16, and painesville, july 19; illinois, chicago, july 2; missouri, st. louis, august 6; mississippi, biloxi, july 10, beauvoir, july 18, and bay st. louis, july 21; nova scotia, wolfville, july 10; maine, portland, july 23, and pittsfield, july 24; massachusetts, monomoy island, july 3, marthas vineyard, july 8, and ipswich, july 10; rhode island, newport, july 14, and providence, july 22; connecticut, milford, july 28, and new haven, july 30; new york, orient, july 4, east hampton, july 8, freeport, july 12, and rochester, july 12; new jersey, long beach, july 7, and cape may, july 14; pennsylvania, carlisle, july 27; district of columbia, washington, august 10; virginia, cobb island, july 15; south carolina, frogmore, july 22; florida, palma sola, july 8, fernandina, july 14, pensacola, july 16, and fort de soto, july 17; cuba, guantanamo, august 15, and batabano, august 26; porto rico, mona island, august 11, and cabo rojo, august 24; and the lesser antilles, st. croix, august 14, and barbados, august 18. late dates of departure in the fall are: british columbia, lake teslin, september 12, and okanagan landing, september 16; saskatchewan, ravine bank, august 25; manitoba, winnipeg, september 13; nebraska, lincoln, october 30; kansas, topeka, september 15; minnesota, lanesboro, september 15; wisconsin, racine, october 1; iowa, marshalltown, october 12, and burlington, october 15; ontario, ottawa, october 5, london, october 16, and point pelee, november 15; michigan, sault ste. marie, october 1, and detroit, october 15; ohio, salem, october 9, youngstown, october 26, and dayton, november 16; illinois, chicago, october 9, and cantine, october 17; missouri, st. louis, october 17; prince edward island, north river, october 27; nova scotia, wolfville, september 24; quebec, montreal, october 18; maine, lewiston, october 17; massachusetts, dennis, october 21, boston, october 23, harvard, october 24, and lynn, october 25; connecticut, middleton, october 7, and new haven, october 23; new york, canandaigua, october 14, sing sing, october 20, new york city, october 24, shinnecock bay, october 30, and ithaca, november 1; new jersey, morristown, september 24, cape may, october 2, and elizabeth, october 16; pennsylvania, beaver, october 3; and district of columbia, washington, october 26. _casual records._--the semipalmated sandpiper is not common in colorado and utah, although in both of these states it has been taken on several occasions. other casual records are wyoming, horse creek, 1859, and alkali lake, october 31, 1897; montana, fort keogh, may 15 and 16, 1889, sweetgrass hills, august 11, 1874, billings, august 12, 1900, and miles city, august 14 and 15, 1900; washington, blaine, august 4 to 8, 1900, puget sound, july 15, 1857, shoalwater bay, may 3, 1854, and simiahmoo, may, 1858; and pribilof islands, st. paul island, june 12, 1890. there also are at least three records for the british isles: romney marsh, kent, september, 1907, marazion marsh, cornwall, october 10, 1853, and northam burrows, devon, september, 1869. _egg dates._--arctic canada: 70 records, june 12 to july 24; 35 records, july 3 to 6. alaska: 33 records, june 2 to july 5; 17 records, june 6 to 18. ereunetes mauri cabanis western sandpiper habits _spring._--the western sandpiper has an unique distribution and peculiar migrations. it occupies a very restricted breeding range in the coastal regions of northwestern alaska, but is spread out over a wide winter range, entirely across the continent in southern north america, in central america, and in northern south america. but we know very little about its migration routes between these two seasonal ranges. i have not a single spring record for it from any of my correspondents in the interior. undoubtedly it has been generally overlooked on account of its close resemblance to the semipalmated sandpiper, an abundant species which few collectors bother to shoot. its northward migration along the pacific coast, in april and may, is well known; this flight is mainly coastwise and the birds are often extremely abundant. d. e. brown, in some notes sent to me from westport, washington, refers to this species as easily outnumbering all other shorebirds combined; they were associated with redbacks, but outnumbered them 10 to 1. dr. e. w. nelson (1887) says of the arrival of these birds in alaska: as the snow disappears on the low ground about norton sound; from the 10th to the 15th of may each year, and the ponds, still ice-covered, are bordered by a ring of water, these gentle birds arrive on the shore of bering sea, in the vicinity of saint michael and the yukon mouth. the advancing season finds their numbers continually augmented until, toward the end of may, they are extremely common and are found scattered everywhere over the mossy flats and low hillsides. their gentle character and trusting ways render them very attractive to the frequenter of their territory at this season. _courtship._--the same gifted writer describes the courtship of this gentle little sandpiper as follows: the warm days toward the end of may cause the brown slopes and flats to assume a shade of green, and among the pretty bird romances going on under our eyes none is more charming than the courtship of this delicate sandpiper. they have forsaken the borders of icy pools, and, in twos and threes, are found scattered over the tundra, showing a preference for small dry knolls and the drier tussock-covered parts of the country in the vicinity of damp spots and small ponds. here the gentle birds may be seen at all times tripping daintily over the moss or in and out among the tufts of grass, conversing with each other in low, pleasant, twittering notes, and never showing any sign of the wrangling so frequent with their kind at this season. the female modestly avoids the male as he pays his homage, running back and forth before her as though anxious to exhibit his tiny form to the best advantage. at times his heart beats high with pride and he trails his wings, elevates and partly spreads his tail, and struts in front of his lady fair in all the pompous vanity of a pigmy turkey-cock; or his blood courses in a fiery stream until, filled with ecstatic joy, the sanguine lover springs from the earth, and, rising upon vibrating wings, some 10 or 15 yards, he poises, hovering in the same position, sometimes nearly a minute, while he pours forth a rapid, uniform series of rather musical trills, which vary in strength as they gradually rise and fall, producing pleasant cadences. the wings of the songster meanwhile vibrate with such rapid motion that they appear to keep time with the rapidly trilling notes, which can only be likened to the running down of a small spring and may be represented by the syllables _tzr-r-e-e-e, zr-e-e-e-, zr-e-e-e_, in a fine high-pitched tone, with an impetus at each "=z=." this part of the song ended, the bird raises its wings above its back, thus forming a =v=, and glides slowly to the ground, uttering at the same time, in a trill, but with a deeper and richer tone, a series of notes which may be likened to the syllables _tzur-r-r-r, tzur-r-r-r_. the word "throaty" may be applied to these latter notes as distinguished from the high-pitched key of the first part of the song. _nesting._--herbert w. brandt, who has had extensive experience with the nesting habits of this species, says in his manuscript notes: the gentle little western sandpiper is the most abundant and most widely distributed shore bird occurring in the hooper bay region. throughout the area, wherever dry ground is found, it is plentiful, and it even occurs on the lower mountain slopes of the askinuk range. before the tundra had discarded its snowy mantle the first birds of this species had responded to the lure of early spring, for they arrived on may 14, and two days later they were common, while on may 20 they were abundant, carrying on everywhere their dainty aerial butterfly courtship. the western sandpiper is usually found in large scattering colonies especially on the upland tundra where for large areas they average one or two pairs to the acre. isolated couples, however, are occasionally encountered. the nest of the western sandpiper is well concealed from view by the surrounding curly bunch-grass that everywhere in the dryer areas forces its way up amid the moss. under this protection a depression is made and scantily lined with grass, and usually in addition with considerable tiny leaves of the prostrate berry-bearing vines, of the dwarf birch, and of the reindeer moss stems. in consequence, the nest is very fragile and loosely made, but before it is disturbed it is neatly cup-shaped. the range of measurements of 32 nests is: inside diameter, 2 to 3 inches; depth of cavity, 1-1/2 to 3 inches; and total depth, 2-1/2 to 4 inches. both male and female share in the tender duties of incubation and are often very loath to forsake their nest, so that when crossing their chosen haunts an incubating bird, by fluttering up before one's very feet, will occasionally unwittingly betray its well-concealed abode. these charming little creatures are most brave, even eager in defense of their homes, often charging with puffed-out feathers and head drawn against the body to make themselves look as formidable as possible. their tameness and familiarity are remarkable. often after we had removed the eggs the parent would go to the empty nest, sit on it for a little while, then come out, her little body a-purr with agitation, and inquire in her thin incessant voice what had become of the eggs. it is little wonder that i shot very few specimens for identification purposes. this tiny sandpiper had won too deep a place in my affections. the confiding nature of these birds is referred to by other writers. doctor nelson (1887) tells how one of his men lay on the ground with his outstretched hand close beside a nest; but the bird soon returned, crossed his arm and settled on the nest, where she was caught with turn of his hand and released. alfred m. bailey (1926) placed his "hat over one set of eggs, leaving just room for the parent bird to crawl under, which she immediately proceeded to do." _eggs._--herbert w. brandt has given me the following good description of his 120 eggs of this species, collected by him at hooper bay, alaska: four eggs always constitute a complete set with the western sandpiper, but occasionally late nests with three eggs in each were observed, which were probably second layings. they are pyriform to subpyriform in shape and are placed in the nest with the small ends together and pointed downward, snuggling amid the loose interior contents of the nest. the shell is smooth, has a slight luster, and is strongly constructed. the markings on the same set of eggs always follow the same type in color, and likewise the ground color is always the same shade. in the series of eggs the prevalent ground color is "cream color," but the shades vary from dull white, which is very rare, to equally rare "wood brown." the ground color is often almost obliterated by the profuseness of the markings, especially on the larger two-thirds of the egg. the color of the surface markings is usually "kaiser brown," but they show considerable variation, dependent upon the amount of pigment deposited, ranging from "brick red" to "chestnut brown." the spots are somewhat elongated and vary from small pin points to large blotches that may completely cover the larger end of the egg. these have a decided tendency to spiral from left to right. the underlying markings are inconspicuous and are only visible on eggs having a pale background and then they are of small size and indistinct. the eggs are generally flecked with additional markings consisting of a few intense irregular spots or fine lines of slate black to black. these blackbird-like markings are almost always on the larger end, although on many eggs they are entirely wanting. in series the eggs of the western sandpiper have a decidedly bright red appearance, and are thus distinct from any eggs occurring in the hooper bay region. the western sandpiper has been known to lay five eggs. the measurements of 120 eggs, furnished by mr. brandt, average 30.8 by 21.9 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =32.5= by 22.3, 32 by =22.8=, =28.7= by 21.6, and 30.3 by =21.1= millimeters. _young._--h. b. conover tells me that both sexes incubate, at least both had incubation patches. he says in his notes: on june 15 the first newly hatched young were found. the parents were very solicitous and flew about twittering anxiously. soon other old birds joined them and seemed just as anxious as if the young were their own. this habit of these sandpipers in joining forces to help their neighbors was very noticeable both before and after the eggs had hatched. by june 30 half-grown young that could already fly for a few yards were being seen. western sandpipers with their chicks were everywhere, and during a walk around the tundra you had a constant attendance of anxious mothers and fathers wheeling about. eggs were still being found on july 5. by july 18 the mud flats were covered with fully fledged young of this species. the incubation period for this species seems to be about 21 days. a nest found on may 26 with four eggs hatched on june 15 late in the evening. another found on may 29 with three eggs in it, had four eggs on may 30, and three young and a pipped egg on the evening of june 19. the rapidity with which these birds lay and hatch their eggs and raise their young is very remarkable. in 60 days from their arrival on the nesting grounds the young are full grown and taking care of themselves. mr. brandt in his manuscript says: it seemed to us as if every western sandpiper about hooper bay must have deposited its first egg on practically the same day, because the four days following may 26 more than 50 nests were recorded, and after june 15 the beautiful brown and black mottled young all of the same size were to be found everywhere. these newly born bird mites are not long abed, however, for in one case an hour after hatching their cradle was empty. _plumages._--the downy young western sandpiper, when first hatched, is richly colored in warm, bright browns and buffs, quite different in appearance from the young semipalmated sandpiper. behind a broad "cinnamon buff" forehead is a large, rounded crown patch extending from above the eyes to the nape, in which the down is basally black, but deeply tipped "burnt sienna"; in the center of this a cluster of buffy down tips produces a spot, which is divided by a blackish median stripe extending down to the bill; a band of pale buff, produced by down tips, encircles the sides and rear of the crown patch; there is a loral stripe and a short malar stripe of black; the sides of the head and neck are "cinnamon buff"; and a variable pattern of "burnt sienna" decorates the auricular region, behind and above the eye. the remainder of the upper parts, back, wings, rump, and thighs are a mixture of black and dark, rich browns, "bay," "burnt sienna," and "amber brown," sprinkled, in an irregular pattern, in the darker portions with tiny buff tips. the under parts vary from pale buff on the breast to buffy white on the throat and to white on the belly. the bright colors fade to dull browns and grayish as the chick grows older. the first of the juvenal plumage appears on the scapulars and then on the sides of the breast. in fresh juvenal plumage, as seen in alaska in june, the crown is "sepia" with "pinkish cinnamon" edgings; the nape is "drab-gray," streaked with dusky; the feathers of the mantle are brownish black, edged with "tawny" on the back and broadly edged with "tawny" and white on the scapulars; the rump, upper tail coverts, and central tail feathers are "sepia"; the other rectrices are "light mouse gray"; the wing coverts are "mouse gray," tipped with "tawny" or lighter buff; the throat and under parts are white, washed on the breast with "light cinnamon-drab," and streaked on the sides of the breast with dusky. this plumage fades somewhat during migration and the body plumage is mostly all molted before october. in their first winter plumage young birds can be distinguished from adults only by the wing coverts and a few retained scapulars and tertials. at the first prenuptial molt they become practically adult. adults have a complete postnuptial molt in the summer and fall, molting the body plumage in july and august and the wings and tail in november or later. the prenuptial molt in march and april involves only the body plumage. the fresh plumage, in april, is veiled with "drab-gray" tips, which soon wear away, revealing the bright nuptial colors. _food._--very little has been published on the food of the western sandpiper, but it probably feeds on the same things as the other small sandpipers with which it associates. arthur h. howell (1924) says: six stomachs of this bird collected in alabama showed its food to be minute fly larvae, aquatic beetles and bugs, marine worms, and small snails. stuart t. danforth (1925) found 150 bloodworms and a hydrophilid larva in the stomach of one taken in porto rico. _behavior._--s. f. rathbun has sent me the following notes on the habits of the western sandpiper on the coast of washington: this is one of the small sandpipers of this region that will be found common at the time of the migration periods along the ocean beaches and on the tide flats. it occurs in flocks of varying sizes, some of which contain an exceedingly large number of birds. at times if care is used one can approach a flock quite closely, often within 15 or 20 feet, and it is of interest to watch the actions of the individuals. they are active birds, being constantly on the move as they feed, and while thus engaged keep up a continual conversation, as it were, this being of the nature of a soft, rolling whistle which is pleasant to hear. these sandpipers seem to prefer to feed at or near the waters edge, particularly where there is an ebb and flow, being very active in following up the water as it recedes and equally so in avoiding its incoming, but always at the very edge as it were. they secure their food by a skimming like movement of the bill over the surface of the mud that has just been covered by the water, and as the birds advance or retreat in following the flow it is quite amusing to observe the seeming pains taken to avoid coming into contact with it. and still at times individuals may be seen in some of the very shallow spots. it is a fine sight to see a flock of these sandpipers suddenly take alarm as they are feeding; all quickly spring into the air as if moved by the same impulse at exactly the same moment, and then form a compact body that will execute a variety of evolutions in perfect harmony. the flock will rise and fall and wheel and turn, and at times may split into several smaller ones, these to again reunite, and should one happen to stand where the light falls directly on the birds the white of their underparts as they turn is very striking. these actions may be repeated a number of times, and then without warning the flock of birds will alight and quickly scatter in search of food. scenes like this are what give an enlightenment to the waste places and fortunately, under the protection now afforded the species, are likely to continue to be enacted in the future. but large as the numbers of the western sandpiper still appear to be, they are not comparable to those of fifteen or twenty years ago, and the cause of this decrease in their numbers is the same old story. it seems hardly possible that a bird so small could have been regarded as game and its hunting come under the name of sport, but such was the case and it brought about the logical result. one may be thankful, however, that this no longer can be done, and hope that the lapse of time may bring about somewhat of an increase in the number of these birds. _voice._--john t. nichols contributes the following on the calls of this species: the most common loud call of the western sandpiper has the _ee_ sound found in the _kreep_ of the least sandpiper, a plaintive quality as in the voice of the sanderling, and suggests somewhat the squawk of a young robin. it is variable and may be written _chee-rp_, _cheep_, or _chir-eep_. it seems to be the flight note of the species, corresponding to the _cherk_ of the semipalmated sandpiper, and is also used by a bird on the ground calling to others in the air which alight with it, as such flight notes sometimes are. its closest resemblance with a note of the semipalmated is to the _serup_ sometimes heard from that bird when flushing. some of the calls of the western are apparently indistinguishable from those of the semipalmated sandpiper, but as studied on the northwest coast of florida, where it greatly outnumbered the other form, more seemed different. birds took wing with a _sirp_, or at another time a _chir-ir-ip_, which heard also in a medley of variations from a flock already on the wing, suggesting the notes of the horned lark, may be more or less analogous with the short flocking note of the semipalmated sandpiper. _field marks._--it is most difficult and often impossible to distinguish between the western and the semipalmated sandpipers in life; and i have experienced difficulty in distinguishing between them even in the hand. the western has a longer bill, and i believe that the bill measurements of corresponding sexes do not overlap, though they approach very closely; but the longest-billed female semipalmated may have a longer bill than the shortest-billed male western. in spring and summer plumages the western shows much more rufous in the upper parts and is more conspicuously and more heavily streaked on the breast, but in winter plumage the two species are very much alike. mr. nichols has given me a few characters by which this species can be recognized even in winter; he calls it "a somewhat larger, rangier, paler, grayer bird" than the semipalmated; it also has "better developed white stripes over the eyes which meet more broadly on the forehead, the top of the head is not so dark, its dark auricular area is not so prominent, the markings on the top, and particularly on the sides, of the head and neck are finer. as to the bills, he says: there is a subtle difference in their bills, however, which i have frequently noticed in life and once or twice checked by taking specimens. the bill of a long-billed semipalmated sandpiper is quite straight and becomes slender toward the end; that of a short-billed western is not so slender toward the end and with just an appreciable downward bend before its tip. in long-billed individuals of the western sandpiper the bill becomes slender toward the end and frequently has a decided drop at the tip. such birds are unmistakably different to anyone thoroughly familiar with the semipalmated sandpiper. _fall._--like many other waders, these little sandpipers begin to move off their breeding grounds at a very early date. as early as june 21, 1914, f. s. hersey saw western sandpipers flocking at the mouth of the yukon river, alaska. some of the flocks contained from 40 to 60 birds. the larger flocks were all of this species, but the smaller flocks often contained one long-billed dowitcher. doctor nelson (1887) says, of its fall wanderings: early in july the young are on the wing and begin to gather in flocks toward the 1st of august. the last of these birds are seen on the coast of norton sound and the yukon mouth the 1st of october. although it is not recorded from the seal and aleutian islands, i have seen the bird at st. lawrence island, south of bering straits, and at several points along the northeastern coast of siberia, and it frequents the arctic coasts of alaska in addition to being found throughout the interior along streams where suitable flats occur. murdoch notes it as a fall visitor at point barrow. it has been found in abundance on the southeast coast of the territory, where it occurs during the migrations. on the coast of british columbia and farther south it is an abundant fall migrant, but it is rare or casual inland; the first arrivals sometimes reach california before the middle of july. migration records for the great interior are almost entirely lacking and how it reaches the atlantic coast, where it is so abundant in fall and winter, is a mystery. mr. nichols wrote to me as follows: the occurrence of this bird on the north atlantic coast of the united states is irregular. at times it is really numerous on long island over periods of several years, and then it becomes rare again. in the 1912 southward migration the western was carefully looked for among the abundant semipalmated sandpiper but no evidence of its presence was found. in 1913 a single bird with a very white head and a peculiar note suggesting a young robin was, i now feel confident, a western sandpiper, at the time it passed as unidentified. the following year one of the white-headed long-billed juvenal westerns was picked out in a flock of semipalmated in august and collected. later several others, all well-marked birds were identified in flocks of the semipalmated. in 1916 and 1917 the species was still more numerous. on october 12, 1917, at long beach with r. c. murphy it was estimated that about one-half the _ereunetes_ were this, one-half the common eastern form. specimens of each were obtained from gunners present. the following year (1918) a flock on the beach in late spring (june 2) were predominatingly western; the species returned again from the north in early july (july 4). during this or the immediately succeeding southward migrations the semipalmated fell off in numbers, and furthermore, a great many birds thought to be western were indeterminate. mr. e. p. bicknell met the same condition which i found at mastic further west at long beach. i remember a letter wherein he spoke of the semipalmated being replaced by the western, but i did not take just that view of it. for a year or two i have no real idea how common either species was. i saw numerous birds that seemed to be western, but mostly indeterminate, and took no specimens. later the standard semipalmated reestablished its usually large numbers and this season (1925) probably for the first time the western was again common among them, about as in 1916, some of this latter form easily identifiable birds (in life). _winter._--arthur t. wayne (1910) says: the western sandpiper is the most abundant of all the waders that winter on this coast. it is not unusual to see thousands of these birds any day during the winter months. it can almost be considered a permanent resident, as it is only absent from may 20 until july 8. the adults arrive in worn breeding plumage and immediately begin to moult the feathers of the head and throat. by the first week in august they have acquired their autumn plumage. among the big flocks of small sandpipers that we saw all winter frequenting the extensive mud flats in the vicinity of tampa bay, florida, i am satisfied that this species was well represented, if not the predominating species. i confess that i can not identify in life more than a very small percentage of these little "peep," and then only when seen under most favorable circumstances. one dislikes to shoot any number of the gentle little birds for identification. but what few we shot proved to be western sandpipers, and i am inclined to think that most of them were. mr. nichols writes to me: in my limited experience _mauri_ is commoner than _pusillus_ on the west coast of florida. in wakulla county in march and september, 1919, most all the _ereunetes_ were western, only one or two among them definitely identified as _pusillus_; and in april, 1917, two or three western were identified with least sandpipers south of sanibel light. distribution _range._--north america, central america, the west indies, and northern south america. _breeding range._--so far as known, the western sandpiper breeds only in alaska. north to cape prince of wales, cape blossom, point barrow, and camden bay. east to camden bay and st. michael. south to st. michael, pastolik, and hooper bay. west to hooper bay, nome, and cape prince of wales. it has been taken in summer in northeastern siberia at two points, east cape on july 14, 1913, and cape serdze, on july 16, 1913. _winter range._--the pacific, gulf, and south atlantic coasts of the united states, the west indies, central america, and northern south america. north to washington (dungeness spit, and smith island); texas (brownsville and corpus christi); louisiana (cameron and vermilion parishes); alabama (dauphin island); and rarely, north carolina (pea island). east to rarely, north carolina (pea island and fort macon); south carolina (charleston); georgia (blackbeard island); florida (amelia island, and fort myers); cuba (guantanamo); and trinidad. south to trinidad; venezuela (margarita island); probably northern colombia (sabanilla); probably costa rica (barranca puntarenas); tehuantepec (tehuantepec city); and lower california (la paz). west to lower california (la paz); california (san diego county, alameda, oakland, and berkeley); and washington (point chehalis; seattle, and dungeness spit). it also has been detected in winter on san clemente island, off the coast of southern california. _spring migration._--the spring movement of birds that have wintered on the south atlantic coast is imperfectly known, there being available no interior records that indicate the route by which they reach the breeding grounds. the species has been detected at long beach, new york, as early as april 25, and at mastic, new york, on may 12, while late spring departures from south carolina have been noted at charleston on may 8, and from mastic, new york, on june 2. early dates of arrival in the west are: arizona, fort verde, april 11, and san pedro river, april 17; colorado, denver, may 2, and loveland, may 9; nevada, smoky creek, may 6; idaho, meridian, may 6; british columbia, sumas, april 20, and chilliwack, april 26; and alaska, kuiu island, april 28, craig, may 2, patterson's bay, may 7, admiralty island, may 8, fort kenai, may 12, hooper bay, may 14, and prince of wales island, may 15. late dates of spring departure at western points are: texas, somerest, may 5, san angelo, may 6, seadrift, may 8, and tom green and concho counties, may 12; kansas, lawrence, may 26; south dakota, vermilion, may 24, and forestburg, may 26; lower california, san quentin bay, may 10; california, fresno, may 12, santa barbara, may 16, los angeles, may 19, alameda, may 21, and owens lake, june 1; oregon, mercer, may 14; washington, ilwaco, may 18, neah bay, may 24, clallam bay, may 25, and quillayute needles, may 30. _fall migration._--early dates of arrival in the fall are: british columbia, courtenay, july 7, nootka sound, july 23, and okanagan landing, july 28; washington, cape flattery, july 2, destruction island, july 3, and granville, july 4; oregon, cow creek lake, july 4; california, santa barbara, july 3, fresno, july 5, and tulare lake, july 7; lower california, san quentin, august 24; mexico, san mateo, august 7; idaho, meridian, july 23, and big lost river, july 25; wyoming, fort bridger, july 13; oklahoma, old greer county, july 19; arizona, tucson, august 16, and san bernardino ranch, august 24; texas, mobeetie, july 27, beaumont, august 5, rockport, august 12, hereford, august 18, and padre island, august 21; massachusetts, monomoy island, july 19, and nahant, august 4; new york, mastic, july 4, and freeport, july 16; south carolina, charleston, july 8; and florida, james island, july 20. late dates of fall departure are: alaska, craig, september 24, and st. lazaria island, september 29; british columbia, chilliwack, september 11, and comox, september 26; montana, great falls, september 4; new mexico, albuquerque, october 5; massachusetts, north truro, september 2, and harvard, september 8; new york, chateaugay, september 13, amityville, september 17, and long beach, october 12; new jersey, cape may county, september 14; district of columbia, anacostia river, september 25; and virginia, four-mile run, september 11. _casual records._--casual occurrences of the western sandpiper must, of course, be based upon specimen evidence, as this species is easily confused with the semipalmated sandpiper. for this reason several records are considered doubtful, while in other regions it may be more numerous than is now known. one was taken august 21, 1907, at beaver, pennsylvania, while two were collected at burlington, iowa, on october 15, 1895, and one at columbus, ohio, on september 12, 1925. _egg dates._--alaska: 159 records, may 23 to july 7: 80 records, may 29 to june 15. crocethia alba (pallas) sanderling habits along the forearm of cape cod, from the elbow at chatham to the wrist near provincetown, extend about 30 miles of nearly continuous ocean beaches, to which we can add 10 more if we include that long, narrow strip of beach and marsh called monomoy. facing the broad atlantic and exposed to all its furious storms, these beaches are swept clean and pounded to a hard surface by the ceaseless waves. even in calm weather the restless ocean swells and surges up and down over these sloping sands, and the winter storms may make or wash away a mile or so of beach in a single season. here on the ocean side of the beach, the "back side of the beach," as it is called on the cape, is the favorite resort of the little sanderlings in fair weather or in foul. they are well named "beach birds," for here they are seldom found anywhere except on the ocean beaches, and i believe that the same is true of the pacific coast. they are particularly active and happy during stormy weather, for then a bountiful supply of food is cast up by the heavy surf. but at all times the surf line attracts them, where they nimbly follow the receding waves to snatch their morsels of food or skillfully dodge the advancing line of foam as it rolls up the beach. _spring._--to the ends of the earth and back again extend the migrations of the sanderling, the cosmopolitan globe trotter; few species, if any, equal it in world-wide wanderings. nesting in the arctic regions of both hemispheres, it migrates through all of the continents, and many of the islands, to the southernmost limits of south america and africa, and even to australia. the spring migration starts in march, though the last migrants may hot leave their winter resorts until late in april; they have been noted in chile from april 11 to 29, and even in may. the earliest migrants have been known to reach new england and ohio before the end of march. the main flight passes through massachusetts in may, a few birds lingering into june. in the interior and on the pacific coast the dates are about the same. c. g. harrold has taken it in manitoba as early as april 29, but william rowan (1926) says that the main flight comes along during the last week in may and the first few days of june, when it is abundant. a. l. v. manniche (1910) thus describes the arrival of the sanderling on its breeding grounds in northeastern greenland: the sanderling arrived at stormkap singly or in couples respectively june 2, 1907, and may 28, 1908. in company with the other waders and large flocks of snow buntings, which arrived at the same time, the sanderlings would in the first days after their arrival resort to the few spots in the marshes and the surrounding stony plains, which were free from snow; here they led a miserable existence. heavy snow storms and low temperature in connection with want of open water made the support of life difficult to the birds. the temperature increased quickly and caused in a few days the places in which the birds could find food to extend very much. the areas free from snow grew larger and larger, and the ice along the beaches of small lakes and ponds with low water disappeared before the scorching sun; at the same time small ponds of melting snow were formed around in the field. now the sanderlings would in couples retire from the party of other birds, and lead a quiet and tranquil life on the stony and dry plains. now and then they would pay a visit to ponds of melting snow and beaches of fresh water lakes in order to bathe and seek food, and here they would join the party of other small waders as for instance _tringa alpina_ and _aegialitis hiaticula_. according to my experience old birds would never resort to salt water shore. _courtship._--the same observer tells us all we know about the courtship of the sanderling, as follows: the pairing began toward the middle of june. the peculiar pairing flight of the male was to be seen and heard when the weather was fine, and especially in the evening. uttering a snarling or slight neighing sound, he mounts to a height of some two meters from the surface of the ground on strongly vibrating wings, to continue at this height his flight for a short distance, most frequently in a straight line, but sometimes in small circles. when excited he frequently sits on the top of a solitary large stone, his dorsal feathers blown out, his tail spread, and his wings half let down, producing his curious subdued pairing tones. he, however, soon returns to the female, which always keeps mute, and then he tries by slow, affected, almost creeping movements to induce her to pairing, until at last the act of pairing takes place; when effected, both birds rush away in rapid flight, to return soon after to the nesting place. i have also observed males in pairing flight without being able to discover any female in the neighborhood, and then, of course, without realizing the pairing as completing act. the male is in the pairing time very quarrelsome, and does not permit any strange bird to intrude on the selected domain. he seems to be most envious against birds of his own kin. _nesting._--the sanderling breeds only in the far north, so far north that only very few arctic explorers have found its nest. strangely, however, the first recorded nest was found in a region where it rarely breeds and considerably south of its main breeding grounds. this was the nest found by roderick macfarlane (1908) on the barren grounds of northern canada, of which he says: on the 29th of june, 1864, we discovered a nest of this species in the barren grounds east of fort anderson. it contained four eggs, which we afterwards learnt were the first and only authenticated examples at that time known to american naturalists. the nest was composed of withered grasses and leaves placed in a small cavity or depression in the ground. the contents of the eggs were quite fresh, and they measured 1.44 inches by 0.95 to 0.99 in breadth, and their ground color was a brownish olive marked with faint spots and blotches of bister. these markings were very generally diffused, but were a little more numerous about the larger ends. they were of an oblong pyriform shape. the parent bird was snared on the nest. it is a very rare bird in the anderson river country, and we failed to find another nest thereof. the main breeding grounds of the sanderling are probably on the more northern arctic islands, but not enough nests have ever been found anywhere to produce the hosts of birds which we see on migrations. col. h. w. feilden (1877) gives the following description of his discovery of the nest of this species: i first observed this species in grinnell land on the 5th of june, 1876, flying in company with knots and turnstones; at this date it was feeding, like the other waders, on the buds of _saxifraga oppositifolia_. this bird was by no means abundant along the coast of grinnell land, but i observed several pairs in the aggregate, and found a nest of this species containing two eggs in latitude 82â° 33' n. on june 24, 1876. this nest, from which i killed the male bird, was placed on a gravel ridge, at an altitude of several hundred feet above the sea, and the eggs were deposited in a slight depression in the center of a recumbent plant of arctic willow, the lining of the nest consisting of a few withered leaves and some of the last year's catkins. august 8, 1876, along the shores of robeson channel, i saw several parties of young ones, three to four in number, following their parents, and led by the old birds, searching most diligently for insects. at this date they were in a very interesting stage of plumage, being just able to fly, but retaining some of the down on their feathers. the best account we have of the home life of the sanderling is given to us by mr. manniche (1910), who found this species to be one of the commonest breeding birds in northeastern greenland. he writes: in the extensive moor and marsh stretches west of stormkap are many smaller stony and clayey parts lying scattered like a sort of islands. as these "stone isles" are most restricted in size, i could without special difficulty realize the existence of the birds here, and i found several nestling sanderlings on such places. the problem was decidedly more difficult to me when the birds had their homes on the extensive table-lands farther inland; here it will depend on luck to meet with a couple of nestling sanderlings. the laying began about june 20. the first nest found containing eggs dates from june 28; these had, however, already been brooded for some days. the clutch of eggs latest found dates from july 15; the eggs in this nest were very much incubated. the sanderling places its nest on the before mentioned dry clay-mixed stony plains sparsely covered with _salix arctica_, _dryas octopetala_, _saxifraga oppositifolia_, and a few other scattered low growths. i only found the nest on places of this type, never on moors or plains entirely uncovered. the larger or smaller extent, the higher or lower position over the level of the sea and the distance from nearest shore of such locality is, according to my experience, of no consequence. it only seems, as if the sanderling prefers to nest on such places, which are situated not very far from fresh water--a lake or a pond--to the shores of which the young ones are often directed. some nests found prove, however, that the birds do not insist upon this. the situation of the nest is also extremely constant. at the edge--or rarer farther in--of a tuft of _dryas_, the bird will form a cup-shaped not very deep nest hollow, the bottom of which is sparsely lined with withered leaves of _salix arctica_ or other plants growing in the neighbourhood. in size, and partly in shape the sanderling's nest resembles that of _tringa alpina_. the striking likeness in color to the surroundings and the monotonous character of the landscape makes it extremely difficult to find the nest unless the bird itself shows the way to it. the number of eggs in a clutch is always four. i found eleven nests with eggs and some fifty hatches of downy young ones but none of these differed from the normal number. by excellent tactics the breeding female understands to keep secret the hiding place of the nest. she will generally leave the nest so early and secretly, that even the most experienced and attentive eye does not perceive it. she rushes rapidly from the nest with her head pressed down against her back executing some peculiar creeping movements quite mute, and hidden between stones and plants; following natural hollows in the ground she will first appear in a distance of at least 100 meters from the nest. by means of short, snarling, and faint cries and now and then by flying up, she will then try to turn one's attention to herself. she will often settle for some moments on small stones, clods of earth, and similar places, from which she again will rush away with her dorsal feathers erected and her wings hanging down and always in a direction opposite to that in which her nest is situated. h. e. dresser (1904) gives a translation of notes on this species made by dr. h. walter in the taimyr peninsula, from which i quote as follows: the nests, found late in june and early in july, contained four eggs each in three cases and three eggs in one case. the nest was placed, unlike that of the other waders, which affected the grass-covered portions of the tundra, between bare clay lumps on moss, and consisted of a shallow depression lined with a few dry straws and a white tangle. in two cases the male, and in two the female, was incubating. on the 16/29 july, when the young in down were taken, the male showed anxiety, but the female was not seen. during the breeding season some of these birds wandered about in small flocks. this species remained until the end of august. _eggs._--the sanderling lays four eggs, sometimes only three. the eggs are very rare in collections and few are available for study, but they have been well described and fully illustrated. the eggs taken by doctor walter are described by mr. dresser (1904) as follows: blunt pyriform, fine grained, with a faint gloss. ground color pale yellowish white, with a very pale greenish tinge and somewhat marked with small yellowish brown and dark brown spots; a few indistinct light violet gray markings; at the larger end a few blackish dots and streaks. in the colored illustrations of 10 eggs before me, the shapes vary from ovate pyriform, the prevailing shape, to subpyriform. the prevailing ground colors are greenish olive, "ecru-olive," "lime green," or "grape green"; a few eggs are more buffy, "cream buff" to "deep olive buff." the markings are small, and often inconspicuous, spots, scattered quite evenly over the entire surface, but sometimes more thickly about the larger end. these are in dull shades of brown, "buffy brown," "snuff brown," or "sepia." they are not handsome or showy eggs. the measurements of 41 eggs, furnished by rev. f. c. r. jourdain, average 35.7 by 24.7 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =38.2= by 24.7, 34.1 by =26.1=, =33.1= by 24.4 and 35.3 by =23.5= millimeters. _young._--authorities seem to differ as to whether both sexes incubate or not. both feilden and walter secured incubating males, but manniche (1910) says: till the laying is finished both birds will faithfully accompany each other, but as soon as the brooding begins, the males will join in smaller flocks and wander around on the table lands and at the beaches of the fresh waters, often in company with _tringa canutus_ and _strepsilas interpres_. they usually left the country some days before the middle of july. i secured several males for examination but never found the least sign of a breeding spot. he gives the period of incubation as 23 to 24 days and says of the young: the bursting of the egg shells will generally begin already some three days before the emergence of the young. the mother bird will immediately carefully carry the shells away from the nest in order not to attract the attention of ravens and skuas. between the emergence of the young will elapse not more than a few hours; as soon as the latest born young one feels sufficiently strong; that is, when the down is dry, all the nestlings will leave the nest at the same time. if the old female considers the nearest surroundings of the nest to be unsafe or too difficult in food for the brood, she will immediately lead the young away. thus i have met with newly hatched young ones, hardly one hour after their departure from the nest in a distance of 500 to 600 meters from this. in the cases concerned the disturbance by my frequent visits to the nests during the breeding may have caused the early departure. in the following 12 to 14 days the chicks are guarded by their careful and extremely vigilant mother, who leads them over stony plains, by overflows of melted snow and fresh-water beaches; they are eagerly occupied in seeking food, which at this period exclusively consists of small insects and larvae and pupae of these. i have often observed that the chicks take shelter under the wings of their mother from the cold nights and the heavy showers. the chicks' power of resistance against cold and severe weather is relatively small. when the sanderling wants to protect her young ones against hostile attacks she executes still more surprising systematic tactics than she does when brooding. already when at a distance of some 200 to 300 meters from the young ones the old female would rush toward me and by all kinds of flapping and creeping movements in an opposite direction try to lead me astray; all the while she would squeak like a young one, and now growl angrily, striving to draw my attention toward herself only. now and then she would rise very high in the air in a direct rapid flight, to disappear behind a rock on the opposite beach of a lake, etc. from quite another direction she soon appeared again just before my feet. if i finally retired still farther away from the young ones and for a while kept myself hidden in the field, she would fly slowly, sometimes quite low, over the earth to the spot where the young still were lying motionless and mute, with their bodies pressed flat against the earth and their neck and head stretched out. when at last the female considers the danger to be over, she, flying or running close to the chicks, produces a short chirping song, at the tones of which all four young ones suddenly get up and begin to run about. only in this case the sanderling produces its highly peculiar "sanderling song," which is very similar to the song of _sylvia curruca_. as long as the young kept lying quiet on the ground in the before-mentioned attitude they were extremely difficult to find, if i had not from my ambush by aid of my field glass exactly marked down the spot where they last appeared. the young ones do not seek any real cover, as in hollows in the ground, under plants, behind stones, or similar natural hiding places. when i had found a single young one, which while i kept it in my hands began to chirp, it generally happened that the three other young, which had till then kept quiet, suddenly rose and, with the wings raised, uttered a quite fine mouse-like squeaking and hastily rushed away, while the old female, as if paralyzed, lay down before my feet, still squeaking exactly like the chicks. within 12 to 14 days the young ones are full grown and able to fly. strange to say, the brood of the sanderling seems to suffer very little from hostile persecution, a fact which may be due to the accomplished vigilance and prudent behaviour of the old female and the young as well as the extremely suitably coloured clothing of these. i wonder that these defenceless small beings can avoid the polar fox, which in this season more frequently than usual visits the domain of the waders, and which, as well known, has an excellent sense of smell. _plumages._--the nestling sanderling is thus described in witherby's handbook (1920): forehead buff with a median black line from base of upper mandible to crown; nape buff, down with dusky bases; rest of upper parts variegated light buff, warm buff and black and more or less spangled white; lores buff, two black lines across lores toward eye; under parts white, cheeks, chin and throat suffused light buff. mr. manniche (1910) gives a colored plate showing four ages of downy young sanderlings, which the above description fits. a nestling 7 days old shows the remiges about one-third grown, while the body is still all downy. another nearly fully grown only 11 days old is still downy on the head, neck, rump, and crissum, but is nearly fully feathered on the mantle and wings, partly feathered on the under parts and the wings extend beyond the stump of a tail; it must be close to the flight stage. such is the rapid development of these little arctic birds that mr. manniche (1910) says that they can fly when 14 days old. in fresh juvenal plumage in the arctic the feathers of the crown, mantle, wing coverts, scapulars, and tertials are blackish brown, broadly tipped, and all except those of the crown are also notched, with buff; the sides of the head, neck, and breast are washed with buff; before these birds reach us on migration these buff tints have mostly faded out to creamy yellow or white; the feathers of the lower back, rump, and upper tail coverts are ashy brown or grayish buff, each with a dusky shaft streak and narrowly tipped with dusky; as these feathers are not molted during the first winter they produce a peculiar rump pattern by which young birds can be easily recognized. young birds are in juvenal plumage when they arrive here, with conspicuous black and white backs. but the postjuvenal molt begins in september and is generally completed before november; this molt involves the body plumage, except the rump, and some of the wing coverts and tertials. the first winter plumage is like that of the adult, plain gray above and white below, except for the retained juvenal feathers as indicated above. a partial, or perhaps nearly complete, prenuptial molt takes place in young birds between march and may, involving the body plumage, sometimes the tail and most of the scapulars and wing coverts. in this first nuptial plumage young birds are much like adults, but can be recognized by some retained wing coverts and tertials; the latter are shorter than in adults, reaching not quite to the tip of the fourth primary in the folded wing; in the adult wing the tertials reach nearly to the tip of the third primary. at the next molt, the first postnuptial, the adult winter plumage is assumed. adults have a complete postnuptial molt from july to october or later. the body plumage is molted first, mainly in august and september, and the wings later, mainly in october; specimens have been seen with primaries in molt in february and march, but these are probably abnormal. the prenuptial molt of adults is incomplete, involving nearly all of the body plumage, but not all of the feathers of the back, scapulars, tertials, or wing coverts. the fresh nuptial plumage in early may is veiled with broad grayish white tips, which soon wear away. there is great individual variation in the amount of red assumed and in the molting date. _food._--the sanderling obtains most of its food by probing in the wet sand of the seashore or by picking up what is washed up and left by the receding waves. the former method is well described by dr. charles w. townsend (1920) as follows: on the hard wet sand of the beaches one may see in places the characteristic probings of the sanderling without a trace of their foot marks, and these may be the cause of considerable mystery to the uninitiated. while the semipalmated sandpiper runs about with his head down dabbing irregularly here and there, the sanderling vigorously probes the sand in a series of holes a quarter of an inch to an inch apart in straight or curving lines a foot to 2 feet long. sometimes the probings are so near together that the line is almost a continuous one like the furrow of a miniature plough. the sand is thrown up in advance so that one can tell in which direction the bird is going. a close inspection of the probings often reveals their double character, showing that the bill was introduced partly open. the probings are for the minute sand fleas and other crustaceans in the sand, their principal food. i have seen sanderlings running about nimbly on the beach, catching the sand fleas which were hopping on the surface. i have also seen them catching flies. i have a record of one i shot in 1884, whose stomach was stuffed with small specimens of the common mussel, _mytilus edulis_. the food consists mainly of sand fleas, shrimps, and other small crustaceans, small mollusks, marine worms, flies, fly larvae, and other insects, and sometimes a few seeds. early in the season in the arctic regions when animal life of all kinds is scarce the sanderling is said to subsist on the buds of saxifrage and other plants, as well as bits of moss and algae. _behavior._--i have always loved to walk by the seashore alone with nature, and especially to tramp for miles over the hard sands of our ocean beaches, where the heaving bosom of the restless sea sends its flood of foaming breakers rolling up the steep slopes, cut into hills and valleys by the action of the waves. from the crest of the beach above or from the lonely sand dunes beyond comes the mellow whistle of the plover, disturbed in his reveries; out over the blue waters a few terns are flitting about or screaming in anxiety for their, now well grown, young perched on the beach. flocks of small shore birds hurry past well out over the breakers, flashing light or dark, as they wheel and turn; and high overhead the big gray gulls are circling. but right at our feet is one of the characteristic features of the ocean beach, a little flock of feeding sanderlings, confiding little fellows, apparently unmindful of our presence. they run along ahead of us as fast as we can walk, their little black legs fairly twinkling with rapid motion. they are intent only on picking up their little bits of food and most skillfully avoid the incoming wave by running up the beach just ahead of it; occasionally a wave overtakes one when it flutters above it; then as the wave recedes they run rapidly down with it, quickly picking up what food they find. if we force them to fly, which they seem reluctant to do, they circle out over the waves and settle on the beach again a short distance ahead of us; by repeating this maneuver again and again they lead us on and on up the beach, until, tired of being disturbed, they finally make a wide circle out over the water around us and alight on the beach far behind us. their flight is swift, direct, and generally low over the water, with less of the twistings and turnings so common among shore birds. they usually flock by themselves, but are often associated in small numbers with knots, small plovers, or other beach-loving species. when satiated with food or tired of strenuous activity, they retire to the crest of the beach, or the broad sloping sand plains beyond it, to rest and doze or preen their plumage. here they stand or squat on the sand, often in immense flocks, all facing the wind. their colors match their surroundings so well that they are not conspicuous and i have often been surprised to see them rise. these large flocks are generally wary and not easily approached. but small parties or single birds feeding along the surf line are very tame and if we sit quietly on the beach, they will often run up quite close to us. like many other shore birds, they are fond of standing on one leg or even hopping about on it for a long time, as if one leg were missing; often a number of birds will be seen all doing this at the same time, as if playing a sort of game; but if we watch them long enough, the other leg will come down, for they are not cripples. _voice._--j. t. nichols writes to me of the limited vocabulary of this bird, as follows: the note of the sanderling is a soft _ket, ket, ket_, uttered singly or in series somewhat querulous in tone. it is at times used in taking wing, also with variations in the conversational twittering of a feeding flock. the sanderling is a rather silent bird at all times and seems to have a comparatively limited vocabulary. _field marks._--the sanderling is well named "whitey" or "whiting," for the large amount of white in its plumage, particularly in late summer, fall, and winter, is one of its best field marks. in winter it appears to be nearly all white while on the ground, against which the stiff black legs, the rather heavy black bill and a dark area at the bend of the wing stand out in sharp contrast. in flight the broad white stripe in the wing, contrasted with black, is diagnostic; and the tail appears white, or nearly so, with a dark center. young birds in the fall can be recognized by the mottled black and white back. its foot prints in the sand are recognizable, as well as the probings made by its bill. _fall._--mr. manniche (1910) observed the flocking of the young sanderlings in greenland, during august, prior to their departure about the end of that month; he writes: the flocks of sanderlings every day increase in size till they culminate about august 20th. august 21st, 1906, i met on the shore at hvalrosodden with a flock numbering at least 300 sanderlings. i walked there toward evening and, as the weather was unusualy fine, the birds were very lively; the imposingly large flock of birds executed evolutions in the air with incredible dexterity, now scattered and then in a compact column, now very high in the air and then close to the glassy level of the sea. the first adults reach massachusetts in july and are common or abundant during the latter part of that month and through august. the earlier arrivals are in worn spring plumage, but all stages of body molt are seen during their stay with us. the young birds come along in the latter part of august and are most abundant in september and october, after the adults have gone. the earlier migrants are generally in small flocks or little groups, but the late storms often bring along immense flocks, which settle on the beaches in dense masses or sweep along between the crests of the waves in great clouds. the sanderling is a common migrant, sometimes abundant, throughout the interior east of the rocky mountains, coming along at about the same dates as on the atlantic coast. prof. william rowan tells me of a bird he shot in alberta on november 8, 1902, that was feeding with a baird sandpiper "on the ice of a completely frozen lake." it is a common migrant on the pacific coast at about the same dates as elsewhere. d. e. brown (notes) records it at grays harbor, washington, as late as december 20, 1917. _game._--in the old days, before the shooting of small shore birds was prohibited by law, sanderlings ranked as game birds among the beach gunners. they were popular because they were so abundant and so tame that they could be shot in large numbers, especially when flying in large flocks. they are exceedingly fat in the fall and are delicious to eat. a favorite method of shooting them was to dig a hole in the sand of the beach, as near the water as practicable, in which the gunner could hide and shoot into the flocks as they flew by. dr. charles w. townsend (1905) tells of a man who, in 1872, "saw two baskets, each holding half a bushel and rounded full of these birds," shot by one man between tides. _winter._--the winter home of the sanderling is extensive. a few birds sometimes spend the winter as far north as massachusetts. they are common on the atlantic and gulf coasts from north carolina southward, as well as on the pacific coast up to central california at least. from these northern points the winter range extends southward to central argentina and chile, and even farther south. on the west coast of florida, where i spent the winter of 1924-25, sanderlings were common all winter, associating with red-backed sandpipers and other small waders on the extensive sand flats, or with knots and piping plovers on the beaches. it was interesting to note how tame they were on the protected bathing beaches and how wild they were elsewhere. distribution _range._--cosmopolitan; breeding in arctic or subarctic regions and wintering mainly south of 40 degrees north latitude. _breeding range._--in north america the breeding range of the sanderling extends north to alaska (point barrow); northern franklin (price of wales strait, bay of mercy, and probably winter harbor); northern grant land (floeberg beach); grinnell land; northern greenland (thank god harbor, stormkap, and shannon island); and perhaps iceland (mickla island). east to iceland (mickla island); southern greenland (glacier valley and godthaab); and eastern franklin (igloolik and winter island). south to franklin (winter island); keewatin (cape fullerton); mackenzie (bernard harbor and franklin bay); and alaska (probably barter island and point barrow). west to alaska (point barrow). _winter range._--in the western hemisphere the sanderling ranges in winter north to: washington (dungeness spit and smith island); southeastern california (salton sea); texas (corpus christi, aransas river, refugio county, and galveston); louisiana (state game preserve); western florida (probably pensacola and bagdad); and rarely massachusetts (plymouth county). east to rarely massachusetts (harvard, dennis, muskeget island, and nantucket); rarely new york (long beach); rarely new jersey (long beach and cape may); virginia (virginia beach and cobb island); north carolina (pea island, cape hatteras, and fort macon); bermuda; south carolina (mount pleasant and frogmore); georgia (savannah and darien); florida (amelia island, seabreeze, mosquito inlet, and key west); bahama islands (andros, watling, and fortune islands); jamaica; lesser antilles (probably barbados); brazil (cajetuba island and iguape); and argentina (misiones, san vicente, and tombo point). south to argentina (tombo point); and chile (coquimbo bay). west to chile (coquimbo bay); peru (mouth of the tambo river and chorillos); ecuador (santa elena); galapagos islands (bindloe and albemarle islands); probably colombia (carthagena). vera cruz (barra de santecomapan); lower california (san jose del cabo, santa margarita island, san cristobal bay, and cedros island); california (san diego, san clemente island, santa barbara, san francisco, bolinas, and point reyes); oregon (netarts bay); and washington (grays harbor and dungeness spit). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival in the spring are: maine, augusta, april 11, and saco, may 5; franklin, bay of mercy, june 3, prince of wales strait, june 7, walker bay, june 9, winter island, june 10, and igloolik, june 16; greenland, coast at about 72 degrees latitude, may 29, cape union, june 5; kentucky, bowling green, may 1; missouri, kansas city, april 30; illinois, chicago, may 10; ohio, oberlin, april 6, lakeside, april 17, and columbus, may 10; michigan, detroit, may 16; ontario, london, may 13, and toronto, may 20; minnesota, goodhue, april 20; eastern nebraska, alliance, april 6; south dakota, vermilion, april 29; north dakota, harrisburg, may 20; manitoba, oak lake, may 5; saskatchewan, orestwynd, may 23; mackenzie, fort simpson may 29; colorado, loveland, may 12, and near denver, may 16; wyoming, lake como, may 5, and laramie, may 15; alberta, edmonton, april 29, and fort chipewyan, june 7; and alaska, mouth of the yukon river, may 10. late dates of spring departure are: georgia, cumberland, april 14; south carolina, sea islands, april 23; north carolina, fort macon, may 17, and cape hatteras, may 20; virginia, smiths island, may 22, and cobb island, june 6; new jersey, cape may, june 13; new york, new york city, may 30, geneva, june 3, and sing sing, june 5; connecticut, fairfield, may 31; massachusetts, harvard, june 4, dennis, june 7, and monomoy island, june 27; maine, scarboro, may 30; quebec, quebec city, may 27, and montreal, june 1; kentucky, bowling green, may 22; illinois, waukegan, may 24, and chicago, may 26; ohio, painesville, may 28, and youngstown, june 2; michigan, detroit, may 28; ontario, point pelee, june 1, toronto, june 2, and brighton, june 19; iowa, emmetsburg, may 25; wisconsin, madison, may 23; minnesota, walker, june 10; texas, point isabel, may 3, and corpus christi, may 22; eastern nebraska, lincoln, may 21; south dakota, yankton, june 1; manitoba, lake winnipeg, june 8, shoal lake, june 8, and lake manitoba, june 12; saskatchewan, hay lake, june 9, and quill lake, june 10; colorado, denver, may 31; california, santa barbara, may 26; san nicholas island, may 30, hyperion, may 31, and redondo, june 4; and washington, quillayute needles, may 30. _fall migration._--early dates of arrival in the fall are: british columbia, okanagan landing, july 25, and comox, august 15; washington, dungeness spit, august 18, clallam bay, august 22, and tacoma, august 23; california, santa barbara, july 29; alberta, strathmore, july 31; montana, flathead lake, august 29; saskatchewan, big stick lake, july 19; manitoba, victoria beach, july 11, shoal lake, august 8, and oak lake, august 17; south dakota, pine ridge reservation, july 12; eastern nebraska, lincoln, august 22; texas, tivoli, august 3, brownsville, august 15, and padre island, august 21; ontario, toronto, july 16, and ottawa, august 14; michigan, charity island, july 19; ohio, lakeside, july 11, cedar point, july 21, and painesville, july 25; indiana, millers, august 1; illinois, chicago, july 24; massachusetts, monomoy island, july 1, marthas vineyard, july 8, and dennis, july 12; new york, brooklyn, july 6, montauk point, july 20, and rochester, july 23; new jersey, cape may, july 20; pennsylvania, erie, july 27; virginia, chincoteague, august 1; north carolina, church's island, july 29; south carolina, mount pleasant, july 14; florida, bradentown, july 12, pensacola, july 19, fernandina, july 21, and daytona beach, july 28; jamaica, spanishtown, august 20; and lesser antilles, st. croix, september 13. late dates of fall departure are: alaska, demarcation point, august 30; mackenzie, fort franklin, september 16; alberta, beaverhill lake, november 8; colorado, loveland, september 30, and pueblo, october 1; manitoba, margaret, october 20, and lake manitoba, november 7; north dakota, grafton, september 14; nebraska, lincoln, october 4; wisconsin, lake mills, october 3; iowa, burlington, october 15, and national, october 29; ontario, kingston, october 15, point pelee, october 16, and ottawa, october 22; michigan, ann arbor, october 26, portage lake, november 5, and forestville, november 24; ohio, cedar point, october 21, lakeside, october 29, and columbus, november 7; illinois, lagrange, october 29, and chicago, november 3; franklin, bay of mercy, august 30; prince edward island, north river, october 30; quebec, quebec city, november 12; and maine, portland, november 25. _casual records._--in spite of its wide distribution the sanderling is not frequently detected outside of its normal range. although but a short distance from the coast, there are only five records for the vicinity of washington, d. c. (september, 1874, october 24, 1885, september 22, 1894, september 26-30, 1898, and september 27, 1898). it has been taken once in kansas (lawrence, october 7, 1874). there also is a record for the hawaiian islands (hauai in october, 1900) and one in haiti (gaspar hernandez, march 4, 1916). _egg dates._--greenland: six records, june 29 to july 7. grinnell land: one record, june 24. arctic canada: two records, june 18 and 29. limosa fedoa (linnaeus) marbled godwit habits next to the long-billed curlew and the oyster catchers, this is the largest of our shore birds. for that reason and for other reasons it is rapidly disappearing, and before many years it may join the ranks of those that are gone but not forgotten. although shy at times, it is often foolishly tame and is then easily slaughtered. it is large enough to appeal to the sportsman as legitimate game and it makes a plump and toothsome morsel for the table. but, worst of all, its breeding grounds on the prairies and meadows of the central plains are becoming more and more restricted by the encroachments of agriculture; the wide-open solitudes will soon be only memories of the past. in audubon's (1840) time this was an abundant species and much more widely distributed than it is to-day. he writes: on the 31st of may, 1832, i saw an immense number of these birds on an extensive mud bar bordering one of the keys of florida, about 6 miles south of cape sable. when i landed with my party the whole, amounting to some thousands, collected in the manner mentioned above. four or five guns were fired at once, and the slaughter was such that i was quite satisfied with the number obtained, both for specimens and for food. for this reason we refrained from firing at them again, although the temptation was at times great, as they flew over and wheeled round us for awhile, until at length they alighted at some distance and began to feed. the marbled godwit is a rare bird in florida to-day; i saw only one during the five months of my last winter on the west coast. it was formerly abundant as a migrant on the atlantic coast from new england southward, where now it is merely a straggler. it is still fairly common on the pacific coast, where probably most of the birds now go. even in minnesota, close to its present breeding grounds, it has decreased enormously. dr. thomas s. roberts (1919) writes: when the writer, in company with franklin benner, went to grant and traverse counties in june, 1879, to study the wild life of that region, the great marbled godwit was so abundant, so constant and insistent in its attentions to the traveler on the prairie, and so noisy that it became at times an actual nuisance. they were continually hovering about the team, perfectly fearless and nearly deafening us with their loud, harsh cries--"go-wit, go-wit." on getting out of the wagon to search for their nests, the birds became fairly frantic until we were fain to stop our ears to shut out the din. now and then the birds would all disappear and peace would ensue for a brief period, but they had only retired to muster their forces anew, for shortly a great company would bear down upon us, flying low over the prairie, and spread out in wide array, all the birds silent, until, when almost upon us, they swerved suddenly upward over our heads and broke out again in a wild, discordant clamor. once i counted 50 birds in one of these charging companies. this, to us, novel experience, went on from day to day in various places and has left a vivid impression that can never be effaced. happenings of this sort have long since become things of the past in minnesota. the godwits gradually disappeared before conditions associated with the advance of man into their domain until now it is doubtful that more than an occasional pair remains to nest in some remote part of the state. the godwits have always been favorites with me and in my early days i had always longed to see them. the opportunity came at last when i visited north dakota in 1901. we had been collecting for several days in some extensive sloughs bordering a large lake in steele county, which we found exceedingly rich in bird life, when on june 12 i first made the acquaintance of this magnificent wader. the beautiful wilson's phalaropes were flitting about among the tussocks, and it was while hunting for their nests that we noticed, among the numerous noisy killdeers and western willets flying over us, a strange hoarse note, strikingly different from either, as a large brown bird flew past, which we recognized as a godwit. all doubts were soon dispelled by collecting my first specimen of a species i had often longed to see, and i could not help pausing to examine and admire the beautiful markings of its richly colored wings. we saw only four of these birds that day, but on the following day they became more abundant. there were about 20 of them flying about over the meadows, showing considerable concern at our presence, constantly uttering their peculiar cries, and showing so little regard for their own safety that we were led to infer that they were breeding or intending to breed in that vicinity. we spent some time looking for their nests, but as we knew practically nothing about their nesting habits at that time, we were not successful in locating any nests. _spring._--i can not find that the marbled godwit was ever common on the atlantic coast north of florida in the spring. it still migrates northward along the pacific coast, mainly in april; d. e. brown has seen it at gray's harbor, washington, as early as april 9. the main migration route seems to be up the mississippi valley, mainly in april; it has been recorded in southern saskatchewan as early as april 16. _nesting._--in southwestern saskatchewan, in 1905 and 1906, i became better acquainted with the marbled godwit on its breeding grounds. along the lower courses of the streams, near the lakes, but sometimes extending for a mile or more back from the lake, are usually found broad, flat, alluvial plains, low enough to be flooded during periods of high water. these plains are more or less moist at all times, are exceedingly level, and are covered with short, thick grass only a few inches high. such spots are the chosen breeding grounds of the marbled godwit, and, so far as our experience goes, the nests of this species are invariably placed on these grassy plains or meadows. the godwit makes no attempt at concealment, the eggs being deposited in plain sight in a slight hollow in the short grass. we found, in all, four nests of this species with eggs, had two sets of eggs brought to us by ranchmen, and found two broods of young. the first nest was discovered on may 29, 1905. we had been hunting the shores of a large alkaline lake, where a colony of avocets were breeding on the mud flats near the outlet of a deep, sluggish stream, and it was while following along the banks of this stream, as it wound its devious course down through a series of broad, flat meadows, that i flushed a godwit out of the short grass only a few yards from the stream and about 100 yards from the lake. on investigation i found that she had flown from her nest, merely a slight hollow in the grass lined with dry grass, which had, apparently, been simply trodden down where it grew, without the addition of any new material brought in by the birds. only two eggs had been laid, so we marked the spot for future reference and retired. on june 5 this nest was photographed, and the four eggs which it then contained were collected. while driving across a low, wet meadow, toward a reedy lake, on june 8, 1905, and when about 200 yards from the lake, we were surprised to see a marbled godwit flutter out from directly under the horse, which was trotting along at a leisurely pace. we stopped as soon as possible and found that we had driven directly over its nest, which barely escaped destruction, for it lay between the wheel ruts and the horse's footprints, one of which was within a few inches of it. the nest was in every way similar to the first one, the bird having beaten down the short grass to form a slight hollow in which the four handsome eggs had been laid in plain sight. on june 9, 1906, we visited the locality where the first nest was found, and i enjoyed a most interesting experience with an unusually tame individual of this normally shy species. while walking across the flat meadow near the creek, i happened to see a marbled godwit crouching on her nest beside a pile of horse droppings. she was conspicuous enough in spite of her protective coloration, for the nest was entirely devoid of concealment in the short grass. though we stood within 10 feet of her, she showed no signs of flying away, which suggested the possibility of photographing her. my camera was half a mile away in our wagon, but i soon returned with it and began operations at a distance of 15 feet, setting up the camera on the tripod and focussing carefully. i moved up cautiously to within 10 feet and took another picture, repeating the performance again within 5 feet. she still sat like a rock, and i made bold to move still closer, spreading the legs of the tripod on either side of her and placing the camera within 3 feet of her; i hardly dared to breathe, moving very slowly as i used the focussing cloth, and changed my plate holders most cautiously; but she never offered to move and showed not the slightest signs of fear, while i exposed all the plates i had with me, photographing her from both sides and placing the lens within 2 feet of her. she sat there patiently, panting in the hot sun, apparently distressed by the heat, perhaps partially dazed by it, and much annoyed by the ants which were constantly crawling into her eyes and half open bill, causing her to wink or shake her head occasionally. i reached down carefully and stroked her on the back, but still she did not stir, and i was finally obliged to lift her off the nest in order to photograph the eggs. two nests found by gerard a. abbott (1919) in benson county, north dakota, were evidently better concealed than the nests we found. he writes: i was certainly surprised to discover my first godwit's nest with the parent crouching beneath a little screen of woven grass blades on four heavily blotched eggs. her general contour and the situation and design of the nest was suggestive of many king rails whose nests i have found, after noticing how the grass blades were woven together canopy like to shield the bird and her treasures. about a mile from this nest and screened on one side by willow sprouts sat another tame godwit. this time the grassy hollow held five boldly marked eggs. incubation was one-half completed and the date was june 8. these five eggs bear a general resemblance to each other and i believe they are all the product of the same bird. _eggs._--the marbled godwit lays four eggs regularly, very rarely three and still more rarely five. the eggs are ovate or ovate pyriform in shape, with a slight gloss. the ground colors usually run from "pale olive buff" to "deep olive buff," in the greener types from "dark olive buff" to "ecru olive," and in the brownest types to "isabella color." they are more or less sparingly and irregularly marked with small rounded spots, and with irregular, rarely elongated blotches; these are often thicker at the larger end, but seldom confluent. the markings are usually much more conspicuous than in other godwit's eggs, but they are in dull browns, such as "saccardo's umber," "warm sepia," and "bister." the underlying spots and blotches range in color from "pallid brownish drab" to "deep brownish drab." some of the greenish types are only faintly spotted with "light brownish olive." one very handsome egg has a "pale olive buff" ground color, conspicuously splashed and blotched with "pale quaker drab," overlaid with a few small blotches and scrawls of "saccardo's umber." the measurements of 64 eggs average 57 by 39.6 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =61= by 40.5, 59.5 by =42.5=, =51= by 38.5, and 53.7 by =37.7= millimeters. _young._--i have no data on the period of incubation and do not know whether both sexes incubate or not. the only incubating bird i collected was a female. though we looked diligently for the young we did not succeed in finding any until june 27, 1906. we were driving across some extensive wet meadows, ideal breeding grounds for marbled godwits, when we saw a godwit, about a hundred yards ahead of us, leading two of its young across a shallow grassy pool; we drove toward them as fast as we could, but as we drew near the old bird took wing and the young separated, moving off into the grass in opposite directions. they had evidently been well schooled in the art of hiding and were well fitted by their protective coloring to escape notice, for, though we secured one of them readily enough while it was still running, the other disappeared entirely right before our eyes and within 10 yards of us. its disappearance seemed almost miraculous, for there was practically nothing there to conceal it, as the grass was quite short, and there were no shrubs or herbaceous plants of any kind in the vicinity. we searched the whole locality carefully and thoroughly, but in vain. the youngster may have been crouching flat on the ground, relying on its resemblance to its surroundings, or it may have taken advantage of some slight inequalities in the ground and skulked away farther than we realized. later in the day we found another pair of godwits, in a similar locality, with two young, one of which we secured. the young were in the downy stage, and apparently not over a week old. they showed unmistakable godwit characters, particularly in the shape of the head and bill, and the long legs and neck. _plumages._--the downy young marbled godwit is in dull colors. the upper parts, including the posterior half of the crown, back rump, and wings are "bone brown" or "light seal brown," variegated on the back and rump with pale buff or grayish-white. the under parts, including the forehead, sides of the head, and neck, are "pinkish-buff," deepest on the neck and flanks, almost white on the belly and head and pure white on the chin and cheeks. there is a narrow loral stripe, extending not quite to the eye, a spot behind the ear, and a short stripe in the middle of the lower forehead of blackish-brown. the shape of the head and bill is characteristic of the species. the cinnamon juvenal plumage begins to appear on the flanks at an early stage and its development is rapid. before the end of july the young bird is fully fledged and able to fly. the fresh juvenal plumage is much like that of the adult in winter; but the throat and the sides of the head and neck are plain cinnamon without dusky streaks; the feathers of the back and scapulars are more broadly edged or notched, with brighter cinnamon; the greater and median wing coverts are much more broadly bordered with or more extensively cinnamon; the greater coverts are almost clear cinnamon, with very few dusky markings; and the tail is more broadly barred with dusky. apparently only a very limited amount of molt takes place during the first year. i have seen birds in juvenal or first winter plumage in november, january, and may, though the last two may be exceptional cases. perhaps some young birds assume the adult plumage at the first prenuptial molt, but certainly not later than the first postnuptial. more material is necessary to settle this point. adults have a complete postnuptial molt beginning in july and lasting well into the fall. this produces the winter plumage in which the breast is immaculate cinnamon and there is little, if any, barring on the flanks. at the prenuptial molt in february and march the body plumage, or most of it, and the tail are molted. _food._--doctor roberts (1919) says of the feeding habits of the marbled godwit: with their long, up-curved bills they probe the shallow water of sloughs and lake shores for aquatic insects and mollusks and also spend much of their time on meadows and low-lying prairies, where they devour grasshoppers and other insects of many kinds. these big birds, when they were as abundant as they once were, must have been an important factor in keeping in check the dangerous insect hordes of our state. but they, with others of their kind, are gone and man is left to fight conditions as he must with agencies of his own devising, less efficient, perhaps, than those provided by nature. audubon (1840) says: "while feeding on the banks, it appears to search for food between and under the oysters with singular care, at times pushing the bill sidewise into the soft mud beneath the shells." the sand beaches of california are favorite feeding grounds, where i have seen it associated with the long-billed curlew. i was interested to see with what dexterity these long-billed birds could pick up a small mollusk and swallow it; i could plainly see the small object gradually travel up the long bill and into the mouth of the bird. other observers have recorded in the food of this godwit snails, crustaceans, insects and their larvae, worms, and leeches. _behavior._--the flight of the marbled godwit is strong, rather swift and direct; the head is usually drawn in somewhat, the bill pointed straight forward, and the feet stretched out behind. audubon (1840) says: "when flying to a considerable distance, or migrating, they usually proceed in extended lines, presenting an irregular front, which rarely preserves its continuity for any length of time, but undulates and breaks as the birds advance." mrs. florence m. bailey (1916) writes: in flight they often made a close flock, calling _queep, queep, queep, queep, queep_, affording a beautiful sight as the light struck them and warmed up the cinnamon wings that make such a good recognition mark. they soared down handsomely, showing the cinnamon, and as they alighted held their wings straight over their backs for a moment, the black shoulder straps showing in strong contrast to the warm cinnamon. though the flocks were generally most amicable, occasionally one or two of their number would get to scrapping. two got hold of each other's bills one day and held on, one or both crying lustily. in a group another day two came to blows, first just opening their bills at each other and talking argumentatively. later one of them made passes at the other till the harried bird lifted his wings as if meditating escape, and finally when a pass was made at his long unprotected legs, flew away. when one was teased by a companion it often cried complainingly, _go-way, go-way, go-way, go-way_. it was amusing to watch the birds feed. as a wave rolled up, combed over and broke, the white foam would chase them in, and as they ran before it, if it came on too fast, they would pick themselves up, open their wings till the cinnamon showed, and scoot in like excited children. but the instant the water began to recede they would right about face and trot back with it, splashing it up so that you could see it glisten. as they went their long bills--in the low afternoon sun strikingly coral red except for the black tip--were shoved ahead of them, feeding along through the wet sand, the light glinting from them; and if anything good was discovered deeper, the hunters would stop to probe, sometimes plunging the bill in up to the hilt, on rare occasions when the tidbit proved out of reach, actually crowding their heads down into the sand. like all of the shore birds, the marbled godwit is exceedingly demonstrative on its breeding grounds, flying out to meet the intruder as soon as he appears, making fully as much fuss at a distance from its nest as near it, and giving no clue as to its exact location. the cries of one pair of birds often attract others, and i have seen as many as eighteen birds flying about at one time in an especially favorable locality. it shows no signs of fear at such times, often alighting on the ground within ten or fifteen yards, standing for an instant with its beautifully marbled wings poised above it, a perfect picture of parental solicitude. even while they were feeding on the shores of the lakes we could frequently walk up to within a few yards of them. hamilton m. laing (1913), after describing how a snipe escaped from a duck hawk by diving into some rushes along a creek, tells of a similar trick played by a godwit, as follows: in the second chase, the victim marked for death was a marbled godwit. having often seen these birds swirling about at a dizzy pace and listened to the roar of their long knife wings as they smote the air in a playful descent, i felt assured that when the hawk started after them he would be very much outclassed. yet in less than half a mile he was among them, had singled a victim and was stooping wickedly. each time the godwit dodged, he emitted an angry or terrified cry, but the silent pursuer, with never a sign of fatigue, swooped and swooped and wore him down. each time now the hawk overshot his mark a little less in the turnings. the last resort of the godwit was exactly that of the other snipe, but the former being over the big slough, dropped into the water. i saw the hairbreadth escape and the splash, but whether or not the godwit dived to get away, i could not tell. some of the sandpipers can dive well, and probably the godwit escaped thus. _voice._--the marbled godwit has a great variety of striking and characteristic notes. its ordinary call note, when only slightly disturbed, sounds like _terwhit, terwhit, terwhit_, or _pert-wurrit, pert-wurrit_, or _godwit, godwit, godwit_, from which its name is probably derived; these notes are all strongly accented on the last syllable, and are uttered almost constantly while the birds are flying about over their breeding grounds. when considerably alarmed these notes are intensified, more rapidly given, and with even more emphasis, _kerweek, kerwee-eek_, or _kerreck, kreck, kreck, kerreck_; sometimes they are prolonged into a loud, long-drawn-out scream _quack, qua-a-ack_, or _quoick, quoi-i-ick_, somewhat between the loudest quacking of an excited duck and the scream of a red-shouldered hawk. there is also a more musical, whistling note, less often heard, sounding like the syllables _kor-koit_ or _ker-kor-koit, kor-koit_, the accent being on the _kor_ in each case; this note seems to indicate a more satisfied frame of mind and is much more subdued in tone. all of these notes are subject to great individual variation, and, as the godwits are very noisy birds, we were given ample opportunities to study them, but to write them down in a satisfactory manner is not so easy. p. a. tayerner (1926) writes: "their loud exasperating _eradica-radica-radica-radica_ varied with _your-crazy-crazy-crazy_ and confirmed by _korect-korect_ sets all the prairie on the alert." john t. nichols says in his notes: a bird flying toward decoys gave a single unwhistled note, _hank_, likely the flight note of the species in migration. alighted, it had a short, unloud note, a goose-like _honk_, especially when other shore birds flew past (long island, august). the few godwits of any species that i have seen in migration have mostly been silent. _field marks._--the marbled godwit is so large and so well marked as a big brown bird that it is likely to be confused with only one other bird, the long-billed curlew. it nearly equals the curlew in size, and the rich cinnamon color in the wings is conspicuous in both species, but the long, curved bill of the curlew serves to distinguish it, even at a considerable distance, and the notes of the two birds are quite different. at short range the shape of the head, the long, slightly upturned bill, pinkish buff on its basal third, and the bluish-gray legs are distinctive marks. _fall._--as soon as the breeding season is over, or even before all the broods are fledged, the marbled godwits begin to gather into flocks and become much more wary. even as early as june 27, 1906, we saw as many as 36 birds in one flock, but as we did not see any young birds among them we inferred that these must have been birds whose eggs or young had been destroyed. as i have always had to leave for the east before the southward migration began i am unable to give any information on this subject from personal observation, but dr. louis b. bishop has kindly placed at my disposal his notes relating to this movement. at stump lake, north dakota, in 1902, he noted on july 28 a flock of about 100 marbled godwits, chiefly adults, all that were taken being old birds; and on july 30 he saw a flock of about 50, which he assumed to be composed chiefly of young birds, all that were taken being in juvenile plumage. at the same locality in 1905 he saw on july 26 a flock of about 40, both adults and young, all that were collected being young birds; on august 2, _all_ of these birds had disappeared. this exact locality, a sandy point at the western end of the lake, was visited only on the above dates. these birds were undoubtedly migrants, as they were not known to have bred in that vicinity. after i had left saskatchewan, doctor bishop visited the breeding grounds of the marbled godwits, and on july 3, 1906, found adult birds tolerably common, but they had all departed two days later. at big stick lake, from july 18 to 21, 1906, he saw large flocks of adult godwits containing hundreds of birds, but on july 22 very few were left. he also writes that adults reach the north carolina coast in the middle of july, as he has in his collection adults taken on july 11 and 27, 1904, and that young birds appear about a month later, as he has specimens taken august 10 and 19, 1904. evidently the godwits move off their breeding grounds as soon as the young are able to fly, those birds which have been unsuccessful in rearing their young being the first to leave, and forming the vanguard of the early migration in july. probably most of the adults start on their southward migration before the end of july, and well in advance of the young, the later flight being composed almost entirely of young birds, and moving more deliberately. the fall migration is or was very well marked and rather unique; many individuals formerly migrated almost due east from their breeding grounds in the interior to the atlantic coast of new england. others still continue to migrate westward to the pacific coast and southward to the gulf coast. all of the earlier writers indicate that this was an abundant migrant on the atlantic coast from new england southward about the middle of the last century. the immense flocks which passed along our shores have been gradually disappearing until now only a few straggling birds are ever seen. probably what comparatively few birds are left migrate to the atlantic coast farther south or to the gulf or pacific coasts. probably excessive shooting has driven them from their former haunts. they have always been popular with sportsmen and have been slaughtered unmercifully. they share with some other species the fatal habit, prompted by sympathy or curiosity, of circling back again and again over their fallen companions after a flock has been shot into, so that it is an easy matter for the gunners to kill them in large numbers. although it breeds and lives on the grassy meadows of the interior, the marbled godwit seems to prefer the seacoast on its migrations, frequenting more rarely the shores of large lakes. it is common as a migrant on the pacific coast even as late as december, but it seems to be absent from california in january and february. bradford torrey (1913) says: i have seen godwits and willets together lining the grassy edge of the flats for a long distance, and so densely massed that i mistook them at first for a border of some kind of herbage. thousands there must have been; and when they rose at my approach, they made something like a cloud; gray birds and brown birds so contrasted in color as to be discriminated beyond risk of error, even when too far away for the staring white wing patches of the willets to be longer discernible. as a flock there was no getting near them; i proved the fact to my dissatisfaction more than once; but sitting quietly on the same bay shore i have repeatedly known a single godwit or willet to feed carelessly past me within the distance of a rod or two. _winter._--it is a comparatively short journey for this godwit to its winter home in the gulf states and central america. i have seen and collected a few godwits in florida, but it is now impossible to see them in anything like the numbers mentioned by audubon (1840) and maynard (1896). the former says: this fine bird is found during winter on all the large muddy flats of the coast of florida that are intermixed with beds of racoon oysters. as the tide rises it approaches the shores, and betakes itself to the wet savannahs. at this season it is generally seen in flocks of five or six, searching for food in company with the telltale, the yellow shanks, the long-billed curlew, and the white ibis. the latter writes: the marbled godwits are very common in the south in winter, but they are particularly abundant in florida. back of amelia island, just south of st. marys river, thus lying just on the extreme northern confines of the state, are extensive flats on which are pools that become partly dry during winter. these were the familiar resorts of the godwits, and flocks of hundreds would gather around them. they were quite wild while here, rising with deafening clamor when approached, but they had become so attached to the locality that they would merely circle about and alight on the borders of some neighboring pool. from this point, southward along the eastern coast as far as merritts island they were very numerous but were not common at miami, and i did not see them on the keys. on the west coast, however, they occurred in large numbers, especially on the muddy flats about cedar keys. on indian river i found the godwits very unsuspicious, in so much so that i have frequently killed them with dust shot. distribution _range._--north and central america. the range of the marbled godwit is now greatly restricted, the breeding areas being principally in north dakota and central saskatchewan and it is now extremely rare in winter anywhere on the atlantic coast. _breeding range._--north to alberta (probably edmonton); saskatchewan (osler and crescent lake); manitoba (winnipeg); and wisconsin (iron county). east to wisconsin (iron county, stoughton, and lake koshkonong); and iowa (newton). south to iowa (newton and probably sioux city); south dakota (miner county and probably huron); and montana (billings). west to montana (billings and strater); and alberta (medicine hat and probably edmonton). it also has been detected in summer at okanagan, british columbia, pelican narrows, saskatchewan, moose lake, manitoba, and york factory, manitoba. _winter range._--north to lower california (magdalena bay and la paz); sinaloa (mazatlan); oaxaca (tehuantepec); western yucatan; probably texas (corpus christi); probably louisiana; and georgia (savannah). east to georgia (savannah and darien); florida (amelia island, tarpon springs, fort myers, and miami); eastern yucatan (cozumel island); and british honduras (belize). south to british honduras (belize); and guatemala (chiapam). west to guatemala (chiapam); probably colima (manzanillo); and lower california (magdalena bay). marbled godwits formerly wintered north to southeastern south carolina (frogmore) and they are casual at this season in southern california (san diego, lake elsinore, la jolla, and humboldt bay). _spring migration._--early dates of arrival are: missouri, st. louis, april 13, boonville, april 16, and corning, april 18; illinois, warsaw, april 2, calumet, april 4, and rockford, april 8; ohio, lakeside, april 20, and columbus, april 21; michigan, ann arbor, may 5; iowa, emmetsburg, april 21, and gilbert station, april 23; minnesota, heron lake, april 8, wilder, april 19, and goodhue, april 20; nebraska, lincoln, april 18; north dakota, bismarck, april 30, jamestown, may 1, and harrisburg, may 5; manitoba, oak lake, april 25, reaburn, may 2, margaret, may 7, and winnipeg, may 11; saskatchewan, indian head, april 16, mclean, april 16, south qu'appelle, april 20, and wiseton, april 24; colorado, loveland, april 20, larimer county, april 26; wyoming, cheyenne, may 1, and douglas, may 15; montana, milk river, may 18; alberta, flagstaff, may 10, and alliance, may 11; california, santa barbara, april 27, san buenaventura, april 28; and washington, grays harbor, april 9. late dates of spring departure are: florida, amelia island, may 15; georgia, wolf island, april 30; south carolina, hilton head, april 24; missouri, warrensburg, may 4, and boonville, may 31; illinois, chicago, may 26; nebraska, valentine, may 16; colorado, durango, may 28, and barr, may 30; lower california, san martin island, april 10, and turtle bay, april 14; and california, sandyland, june 9, santa barbara, june 15, and los angeles, june 16. _fall migration._--early dates of arrival in the fall are: california, los angeles, july 7; lower california, san quentin, august 6, and cape san lucas, september 9; wyoming, douglas, july 31; colorado, barr, june 24; illinois, chicago, july 22; ohio, pelee island, july 24; maine, near portland, august 8; new hampshire, seabrook, august 17, and rye beach, august 27; massachusetts, eastham, august 10; connecticut, west haven, august 26; new york, lawrence, july 21; north carolina, pea and brodie islands, july 11; south carolina, ladys island, august 21, and bay point, august 24; and florida, st. marks, september 11. late dates of fall departure are: california, nigger slough, november 15, humboldt bay, december 7, and san diego, december 12; colorado, denver, september 5, boulder, september 18, and san luis lake, october 1; saskatchewan, ravine bank, august 25, and defoe-guernsey camp, august 26; manitoba, margaret, september 22; north dakota, charlson, september 16, and westhope, september 24; nebraska, lincoln, october 16; michigan, newberry, september 23; ohio, sandusky bay, october 12; illinois, northeastern part, october 20; quebec, montreal, september 3; maine, popham beach, september 13; massachusetts, newburyport, september 7; new york, shinnecock bay, september 15; new jersey, cape may, september 14; north carolina, beaufort, november 17; and south carolina, mount pleasant, november 3. _casual records._--the marbled godwit has on several occasions been recorded outside of its normal range principally to the south and east of its winter quarters. among these are: ecuador (santa rosa, 1877); lesser antilles (grenada, august 29, 1881, and also from the islands of carriacou and trinidad); porto rico (recorded from boqueron by gundlach); and cuba (recorded from cardenas in september by gundlach). it also has been noted from alabama (near greensboro, in 1880, and dauphin island, august 21, 1911); ontario (toronto, may 30, 1895, and june 7, 1890); arizona (san pedro river, january 27, 1886); and alaska (ugashik, july 16 and 18, 1881, nelson island, july 5, 1910, and point barrow, august 26, 1897). _egg dates._--saskatchewan: 38 records, may 15 to june 27; 19 records, may 30 to june 9. minnesota and dakotas: 16 records, may 10 to june 14; 8 records, may 25 to june 8. limosa lapponica baueri naumann pacific godwit habits the bar-tailed godwit of europe is represented in eastern siberia and western alaska by this larger race, with a more spotted rump. from the above breeding grounds it migrates to a winter range in australia, new zealand, and many oceanic islands. south of alaska it is a mere straggler in north america. _spring._--on its spring migration the pacific godwit passes through the aleutian islands and the pribilof islands on its way to its breeding grounds in northwestern alaska. i saw two birds on atka island on june 13, 1911, probably belated migrants; it has been said to breed near unalaska, but this seems hardly likely. william palmer (1899) reported it as a migrant in the pribilof islands from early in may until june 13. probably the main northward flight passes through the kurile and commander islands to northeastern siberia. dr. e. w. nelson (1887) says of its arrival in alaska: on may 26, 1877, while i was at unalaska, a native brought in a half dozen of these birds, and on june 3 i obtained three others from the sandy beach of a small inner bay. they were very unsuspicious and easily killed. although these birds appeared to be migrating, yet the following years i found them arriving at saint michael in flocks of from 25 to 200 from the 13th to 20th of may. these flocks were shy and kept in continual motion, wheeling and circling in rapid flight over the lowland, now alighting for a moment, then skimming away again in a close body. their movements and habits at this season are similar to those of other godwits. by the last of may the flocks are broken up, and the birds are distributed in small parties over their breeding ground. herbert w. brandt says in his notes: for a large shore bird the dinful pacific godwit is of common occurrence on the vast mossy upland tundra about hooper bay and is even more numerous in similar areas in the igiak bay region, including the lower slopes of the mountain sides. the vociferous guardian parents, however, make themselves so conspicuous by their clamorous agitation that they seem more plentiful than they are in reality. the first bird to arrive from afar, a beautiful ruddy specimen, was captured may 15, and by may 20 occasional bands of 20 or more birds were feeding along the overflow river margins. these flocks remained for some days and were apparently transients, for they passed elsewhere. one flock of 21 highly colored birds stayed with us until june. in the meanwhile the happy mated pairs had already taken charge of their respective upland domains, for on may 25 a nest with two eggs was found, which on may 28 held four eggs. _courtship._--doctor nelson (1887) gives a brief account of this, as follows: their courtship begins by the 18th or 20th of may and is carried on in such a loud-voiced manner that every creature in the neighborhood knows all about it. the males continually utter a loud ringing _ku-wew, ku-wew, ku-wew_, which is repeated with great emphasis upon the last syllable, and the note may be heard for several hundred yards. _nesting._--we are indebted to mr. brandt for practically all we know about the nesting habits of this rare species. i quote from his notes, as follows: the pacific godwit chooses an elevated dry site for its domicile, preferring the ridges on the rolling tundra and nests even occur on the lower mountain slopes. the nest is well concealed, for it is usually placed between clumps of bunch grass and is thus well screened from view by the standing vegetation. the structure is usually a simple depression in the moss and lichens and lined haphazardly with fragments of the surrounding reindeer moss, but occasionally a real nest is carefully fashioned with considerable grass woven in a circular manner and is thus rather substantially constructed. in one instance the bird added to the nesting material while the eggs were being laid. the range of measurements of 12 nests is: inside diameter, 6 to 7 inches; inside depth, 3 to 4 inches; and total depth, 3 to 5 inches. i observed the female pacific godwit alone to incubate, but the male was always near by. she is perhaps the closest brooder of any incubating shore bird we encountered, so much so that she often literally had to be almost stepped on before she arose. the alert male lookout meets the intruder at a considerable distance from the nest and with a loud tongue acts as an escort to the discomfort of the interloper. thus but little clue can be had from the bird's actions as to the whereabouts of the brooding female, and in consequence, in spite of the number of nests in the region, relatively few are found, and those mostly by chance. the peculiar contents of one nest were originally five eggs of the willow ptarmigan, on top of which four eggs of the pacific godwit had been laid. evidently the latter bird had driven the ptarmigan away from its nest, as there were but three godwit's eggs in it when first observed, the fourth egg having been deposited on the following day. the entire nestful was left to hatch in order to ascertain whether or not the ptarmigan would be reared by the incubating godwit, but this composite set was later deserted and then despoiled by jaegers. _eggs._--mr. brandt was fortunate enough to collect 20 sets of eggs of this rare species, which he describes in his notes as follows: the egg of the pacific godwit is subpyriform to ovate pyriform in outline with the majority following the latter shape although one set is elongate ovate. the shell is strong, smooth, slightly granular with somewhat of a luster, yet an occasional surface is almost dull. there are two general types of ground color--the greenish, that is the rule, and the brownish type that we but rarely encountered. "serpentine green," dull "citrine" to "yellowish glaucous" cover the range of greenish ground colors, while "snuff brown" matches the other type. the surface markings are not as numerous as on most shorebirds' eggs, and in consequence they are more scattered than usual. these spots are small in most instances, but in a few beautiful sets they are large and, more rarely, even convergent on the larger end so as to form a rich blotch. in a few rare instances there were no surface markings at all, the paler underlying spots being the only decoration. the primary markings are irregular to elongated without a spiral tendency. in color they are "cinnamon brown," "snuff brown," and "mummy brown" or "brownish olive," usually the latter if the ground color is decidedly greenish. the underlying spots are not very bold, although they are numerous and occasionally of considerable size. these neutral spots range from "light mouse gray" or "quaker drab" to "deep olive gray" in color. additional markings of grayish black slightly fleck some eggs while they are wanting on others. in a few cases these markings assume the form of pen scratches which usually encircle the larger end. the eggs, which were the rarest that we took on the trip, were always four in number, except for one set of three and one nest of five eggs, the only abnormally large set that i met with among the alaska species of the entire shore-bird group. the measurement of his 80 eggs average 55.3 by 38.2 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =60.5= by 37.7, 52.6 by =40.7=, =50.5= by 38.2, and 54.8 by =36.1= millimeters. _young._--the same observer says: both birds share in the duties of incubation and are very zealous in defense of their treasures, especially when their pretty tawny brown chicks are first bursting forth. we saw the first downy young on june 18 when we came upon two and one hatching egg at an altitude of about 300 feet on the side of the askinuk mountains. these sturdy babies have little to fear from their marine enemies for their parents dominate the chosen domain with a vigor that no feathered creature can withstand. it is very interesting to watch the agitated father or mother running rapidly about, scolding, or wading in a pool of snow water, every now and then raising its long wings to a vertical position above its back, thus exhibiting the delicate tints of the underside, and then deliberately folding them one at a time. _plumages._--the nestling pacific godwit is warmly covered with long, thick, soft down, the prevailing colors of which are warm buff and sepia, in indistinct patterns; none of the markings are clearly defined, as in the sandpipers, but are soft and blended. the large circular crown patch is clear "warm sepia," extending in a median stripe down to the bill; there is a narrow loral stripe from the bill to the eye and a broader one, though less distinct, from the eye to the occiput, both "warm sepia"; above these, broad stripes of grayish buff extend from the lores to the occiput, nearly encircling the dark crown, from which a median stripe of the sepia extends down the neck. the back, wings, and thighs are softly variegated with "warm sepia," "wood brown," and "cinnamon buff." the under parts are largely "pinkish buff," suffused with "cinnamon buff" on the breast and fading out to nearly white on the chin. the down is all dusky or dark sepia at the base. in fresh juvenal plumage, as seen in alaska in august, the crown is streaked with sepia, the feathers edged with light buff; the feathers of the mantle, scapulars, tertials, and wing coverts are sepia or dusky, edged or notched with light buff; the rump and upper tail coverts are white, but much more heavily spotted with dusky than in the european form; the remiges are all conspicuously barred with dusky and light buff; the buff edgings fade out almost to white later on; the under parts are dull buffy whitish, shaded on the chest with deeper grayish buff. a postjuvenal molt begins in september, at which the body plumage is renewed, but not the remiges and few, if any, of the rectrices; most of the wing coverts are retained and some of the tertials. the resulting first winter plumage is like that of the adult except for the wings and tail. at the first prenuptial molt the next spring the sexes begin to differentiate, the males being more richly colored with more cinnamon feathers in the white under parts, and the females have the throat and breast more or less streaked with sepia. this molt is incomplete and irregular, with much individual variation in the advance toward maturity. sometimes there is very little or no molt, the worn winter plumage being retained until summer; sometimes new winter feathers are acquired; but usually some or many of the body feathers, the tail, and some tertials and wing coverts are molted and replaced with feathers like the adult. the new tail feathers of the first nuptial plumage are plain gray, unbarred. birds in this plumage are found on their breeding grounds and probably breed at this age. at the next molt, the first postnuptial, the adult winter plumage is assumed by a complete molt from july to december. adults have a partial prenuptial molt, between february and may, which involves most of the body plumage, usually the tail, some of the tertials, and some of the wing coverts; they also have a complete postnuptial molt beginning with the body plumage in july or august. in the adult nuptial plumage the central pair of tail feathers are barred completely; the others are usually plain gray, but sometimes the outer pair or two are partially barred. _food._--very little has been published on this subject. william palmer (1899) says: in the ponds they feed by keeping their bills in the water and move invariably all in the same direction, heads to the wind. with care i could approach within a few feet. much the greater part of the stomach contents of these birds consisted of hundreds of minute threadlike aquatic larvae of a midge (_chironomis_). pieces of mollusks' shell had been swallowed by several of the birds. flies, closely related to our common house fly, and tiger beetles were detected in small quantities. of the six godwits, five had been killed on st. paul island, and had fed for the most part upon midges, which were probably abundant in a fresh-water pond on the island. the sixth bird was taken on walrus island. it had caught over 500 specimens of a species of beetle (_aegialites debilis_), the sole representative of a unique family of beetles, described some time ago and subsequently lost sight of until recently discovered again. the above report on stomach contents was made by dr. s. d. judd and has been amended by preble and mcatee (1923), who report that the items of food, ranked by bulk, are flies, 76.6 per cent; beetles, 17; mollusks, 3.6; marine worms, 1.3; and vegetable matter, 1 per cent. the jaws of marine worms (nereidae) were mistaken for jaws of tiger beetles. _behavior._--doctor nelson (1887) writes: they frequent open grassy parts of the country and are quick to protest against an invasion of their territory. as a person approaches, one after the other of the birds arises and comes circling about, uttering a loud _ku-wew_ with such energy as to make the ears fairly ring. if their nests are near, or they have young, they come closer and closer, some of the boldest swooping close by one's head and redoubling the din. this same note is heard upon all sides while the birds conduct their courtships, and it serves also to express their anger and alarm. at the mating season the males have a rolling whistle also like that of the ordinary field plover, but shorter. when the birds fly at this time they hold the wings decurved and stiffened and make a few rapid strokes, then glide for a short distance. on the ground it walks gracefully, its head well raised, and frequently pauses to raise its wings high over the back and then deliberately folds them. they may be decoyed when flying in flocks if their whistling note be imitated. if wounded and taken in hand, they utter a loud, harsh scream. mr. brandt says in his notes: the pacific godwit has wonderful powers of flight, and, as it wheels about protesting against an intrusion, the slightest beat of its long, decurved wings seems, without perceptible effort, to drive it forward like an arrow from the bow. that its power of flight is extraordinary is shown by the fact that it spends the winter time of the north in southern australia and new zealand. it migrates along the eastern coast of asia and is one of the interesting old world birds that find their northeastern limit on the alaskan shores of bering sea. during the love-making period, shortly after this godwit's arrival on may 15, it could be heard for an hour at a time high up in the air, as it circled about, uttering continuously its wild far-reaching cry, which was very distinctive among the medley of voices. the call of the male is often answered by the female with the syllables, _tut-tut_, not unlike a clucking chicken. the pacific godwit differed from the other shore birds nesting at hooper bay in that individuals in immature plumage were breeding. sometimes a gray-breasted immature female would be paired with a rich plumaged male, or again both mates would be in full color; but i encountered many pairs in which both parents showed the light grayish breast of adolescence. in fact, the immatures seemed to be in the majority. it is believed that this godwit does not assume its fully adult feathers until the beginning of the third year; but, like the bald eagle, it breeds during the second year. the earliest spring arrivals at hooper bay were immatures and they seemed to migrate in separate flocks. one group of about 20 richly cinnamon-breasted adults stayed in our vicinity for several days from may 20 onward. perhaps they were resting and feeding in preparation for the final stage of their journey to more polar lands for they, as well as all the other large flocks of godwits no doubt passed on to the north. the birds that nested in the hooper bay region arrived in an inconspicuous manner, simply filtering into their chosen haunts and were already mated. _field-marks._--the pacific godwit can be easily distinguished in the field from either of our two other american godwits. the marbled godwit has much more rufous in the upper parts, particularly in the wings, and has no white on the rump. the hudsonian is very dark on the upper parts, almost black on the wings; it has a pure white rump and a black tail. the pacific is dull brown above, with no rufous; it has a white rump, spotted with dusky, and a tail barred with dark gray and white. _fall._--doctor nelson (1887) says: these godwits are among the first of the waders to leave alaska in fall. the young are flying by the middle of july and before the end of august not one of these birds, young or old, is to be found. young birds apparently wander northward and eastward before they start on their southward migration, for they have been taken in august at wainwright and at point barrow in company with young dowitchers and red-backed sandpipers. distribution _range._--alaska and eastern asia south to australia, new zealand, and the samoan islands. _breeding range._--the pacific godwit breeds from northeastern siberia (taimyr peninsula, marcova, and nijni kolymsk); east to western alaska (unalaska island, hooper bay, kotlik, pastolik, cape prince of wales, cape blossom, and kowak river). _winter range._--the malay archipelago, samoan and fiji islands, new zealand, and australia, and probably other islands of oceanica. _migration._--the migration route of this species is almost entirely in the eastern hemisphere, through the commander islands, japan, china, and the philippines. they have been observed to arrive in siberia on may 10 (bering island) and may 30 (nijni kolymsk) and in alaska on may 15 (hooper bay), may 20 (st. paul island), and may 29 (unalaska). after the breeding season, individuals have been known to wander north to the colville delta and point barrow. the latest date of fall departure noted for point barrow is august 18 and for st. michael september 10. _casual records._--one specimen obtained at la paz, lower california (belding), and recorded as this species is now regarded as a marbled godwit, and there is one record from the island of kauai, and several from laysan, hawaiian islands (bryan). a specimen taken on cape cod, massachusetts, on september 16, 1907, is referable to the european form _limosa lapponica lapponica_. _egg dates._--alaska: 15 records, may 25 to july 9; 8 records, may 29 to june 5. limosa haemastica (linnaeus) hudsonian godwit habits i can count on the fingers of one hand the red-letter days when i have been privileged to see this rare and handsome wader. it has always been among the great desiderata of bird collectors. its eggs are exceedingly rare in collections. many ornithologists have never seen it in life. i can find no evidence that it was ever common. all the earlier writers reported it as uncommon or rare. audubon (1840) referred to it as "of rare occurrence in any part of the united states." he never saw it in life and handled only a few market specimens in the flesh. _spring._--from its winter home in far southern south america the hudsonian godwit migrates in spring by some unknown route to the coast of texas, where it arrives in april. i saw three adults and collected a pair in fine spring plumage near aransas pass on may 17, 1923. from texas and louisiana it migrates northward through the mississippi valley, central canada and the mackenzie valley to the arctic coast. prof. william rowan in his notes refers to it as a scarce, but regular, spring migrant in alberta; his dates are between april 29 and may 29. he and c. g. harrold (1923) recorded 24 birds between these dates in 1923. their records are as follows: april 29, 2 flocks of 6 each (also 2 avocets on this date, although on the 30th it snowed all day); may 7, 2 hudsonians at the lake and one with a party of marbled godwits at a muddy slough a few miles away; may 8, a flock of 4 hudsonian and 2 marbled; may 15, flock of 3 hudsonian, 2 marbled, and 1 willet; may 22, a fine male hudsonian with 8 or 9 marbled. one other specimen was seen flying over about may 10. at whitewater lake, in manitoba, mr. harrold noted one each day on may 10 and 11, 1924, and 12 at the same place in 1925, practically all between may 13 and 20. i saw one at lake winnipegosis on june 5, 1913, a late date. on the atlantic coast it is known only as a rare straggler in the spring and it is practically unknown on the pacific coast. _nesting._--practically all of what little we know of the nesting habits of the hudsonian godwit is contained in roderick macfarlane's notes. a female and four eggs were taken near fort anderson on june 9, 1862, from a nest on the ground made of a "few decayed leaves lying in a small hole scooped in the earth." another nest on the lower anderson was "on the borders of a small lake" and was made of "a few withered leaves placed in a hole or depression in the ground." a set of four eggs, in the thayer collection, was collected by bishop j. o. stringer at mackenzie bay, june 30, 1897, from "a nest situated in a hollow in the grass." edward arnold also has a set of four eggs, taken by bishop stringer in the same locality on june 29, 1899; the nest was "in a tuft of grass on an island in mackenzie bay." _eggs._--the hudsonian godwit probably lays four eggs normally, though there are sets of three in collections. what few eggs i have seen, not over a baker's dozen, are ovate pyriform in shape and have little or no gloss. the ground colors vary from "dark olive buff" to "olive buff," or from "light brownish olive" to "ecrue olive." they are usually sparingly marked with rather obscure spots, irregularly distributed, but generally mostly around the larger end, in darker shades of similar colors, such as "buffy olive," "light brownish olive," "buffy brown," "bister," or "sepia." there are usually underlying spots of "hair brown" or shades of "drab," and some eggs have a few black dots at the larger end. a set in the united states national museum is thus described for me by j. h. riley: no two eggs in this set are alike. they vary in ground color from a little darker than "citrine drab," through "light brownish olive," to "dark olive buff." the darkest egg has a zone of "olive brown" spots at the larger end, with a few "clove brown" dots here and there, and a few scattered spots and blotches of "olive brown" over the rest of the egg. the next darkest egg is similar, but with the contrast between the ground color and the "olive brown" zone more pronounced and an increase in size and number of the "clove brown" spots. the lightest ("dark olive buff" ground) egg has a solid cap of "clove brown" at the larger end and quite numerous blotches, scrawls, and spots of "clove brown" and "olive brown," with a few shell markings of "drab" over the rest of the surface. some of the eggs i have seen are much like well-marked eggs of the black-tailed godwit. the measurements of 27 eggs average 55.2 by 38.1 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =60.6= by 39.6, 56 by =41.2=, and =51= by =35= millimeters. _plumages._--i have never seen a downy young hudsonian godwit nor any very young juvenals. the sexes are alike in the juvenal plumage and probably all through the first year. the plumages are alike in winter but the females are somewhat larger. a young female in juvenal plumage, taken in maine in september, is similar to the winter adult, except that the crown is more streaked with dusky; the feathers of the mantle are "sepia," edged with "pinkish cinnamon"; the scapulars and tertials are edged, notched, or barred with "cinnamon," and the tail is tipped with buffy white. i have seen birds in this plumage up to october 13; but usually the partial postjuvenal molt of the body plumage and probably some of the scapulars and tertials begins in october. material is lacking to illustrate the first prenuptial molt, which takes place in south america. probably this molt is very limited in young birds. a female, taken on may 28 in wisconsin, probably in first nuptial plumage, shows a mixture of fresh adult nuptial body feathers both above and below, and fresh tail feathers, but the primaries are worn. probably at the next molt, the first postnuptial, which is complete, the adult winter plumage is assumed. adults have an extensive prenuptial molt, involving everything but the wings and perhaps the tail. this is accomplished during the late winter or early spring before the birds migrate. dr. alexander wetmore (1926) says: a male shot march 7 is in full winter plumage with worn primaries but newly grown tail feathers and lesser wing-coverts. two females shot march 8 have renewed the flight feathers and tail and have the breeding plumage growing rapidly on the body. the postnuptial molt is complete; the body molt begins in july and is well advanced towards completion when the birds reach our shores in august or september; the wings are apparently molted later, after the birds reach their winter homes in south america. there is a striking difference between the richly colored nuptial plumage and the dull and somber winter plumage, with the brownish gray upper parts and the pale grayish buff under parts. strangely enough, all the recent manuals that i have seen state or imply that the sexes are alike in nuptial plumage; and this in spite of the fact that many years ago swainson and richardson (1831) called attention to the striking difference between the two sexes, which are decidedly unlike. in the male the underparts are deep, rich brown, "mikado brown" or "kaiser brown," with much individual variation in the amount of black transverse barring, which is sometimes almost entirely lacking in the center of the breast. in the female, which is always somewhat larger, the under parts are barred with white, dusky, and brown; the feathers of the flanks are brown with three or four black or dusky bars and broad white tips; on the breast only the outer half of the feather is brown, the remainder is white, with two or three dusky bars and a broad white tip. careless sexing may have caused the oft-repeated error. _food._--edward h. forbush (1925) says that "the food of the hudsonian godwit includes worms, many insects (including horseflies and mosquitoes), mollusks and crustaceans, and various small forms of marine life." _behavior._--he also says: while with us it seems to have a preference for sandy shores and sand spits, but it also frequents mud flats, beaches, and creeks in the salt marsh, and sometimes goes to the uplands after insects. dr. l. c. sanford (1903), writing of the habits of the hudsonian godwit in the magdalen islands, says: on the islands where these birds congregate they frequent the large open lagoons where the low tide leaves exposed miles of sand bars. here they follow the water's edge and wade in up to the full length of their long legs, feeding on animalculae and small larvae, for which their bill is peculiarly adapted, having the same flexible tip as that of the wilson's snipe. with the rising water, first the small sandpipers, then the larger birds are driven from the flats; last of all, the godwit. they start in flocks of from 10 to 20 and keep well in the center of the lagoon, flying over the flooded flats, avoiding carefully all land, even the farthest points and islands. the long black lines of birds undulating in their flight can readily be distinguished from any other shore bird. they have a very dark appearance. in a short half hour the last flocks have passed and there is no further flight until the next tide. at high water they congregate on the upper beaches, well out of reach of any disturber. for a long time it was impossible to arrange a blind in the range of the flight, but finally by piling up heaps of seaweed and staking them down far out in the shallow water, we managed to kill a small number. they quickly learned the danger, however, and would keep on their course just out of reach. dr. d. g. elliot (1895) writes: like the other godwit, its larger relative, it is a shy bird during migration and keeps a watchful eye on an intruder in its domain, rising at a considerable distance and uttering its shrill cry. it sometimes decoys readily, setting its wings and sailing up to the wooden counterfeits, lured on by a close imitation of its note, but soon discovers the deception and either alights only for a moment or else wheels about over the decoys, and hastily departs, provided it escapes the rain of shot from the discharged gun of the concealed sportsman. about hudson's bay it is met with in large flocks, resorting to the beach when the tide is low, and feeding on the crustacea it discovers there, retiring to the marshes as the tide rises. professor rowan writes to me: like the majority of waders, this godwit can swim with ease and has been observed swimming of its own accord when crossing from one sand ridge to another, and also when dropped into deep water after being shot in flight but not killed. the flight of the species is distinctly "ploverish." the greater contrast, against its white parts, of its darker balance makes it distinguishable at considerable distance from the willet when in flight. they can easily be mistaken for each other if casually observed, especially in the grey plumage of young and fall adults. in walking this godwit has much the same attitudes of the marbled, generally very ungraceful and altogether hunched up, neck closely drawn into the body. it is, however, altogether warier than the marbled and carries its neck stretched out more frequently. on the whole it is an extremely silent species. i have seen dozens of birds but have only heard a call twice. this sounded like _ta-it_ on both occasions, less raucous than the marbles call but in general quite reminiscent of it. doctor wetmore (1926) says: in plain gray winter plumage this godwit is as inconspicuous and nondescript in appearance as a willet. in general size it suggests a greater yellow-legs, but can be distinguished at any distance by its quiet carriage, for it does not practice the constant tilting that is the habit of the yellow-legs. these godwits sought company with scattered flocks of stilts or smaller shore birds, and in feeding walked rapidly, at times in water nearly to their bodies or again in the shallows. as they moved they probed rapidly and constantly in the mud with a nervous thrusting motion, often with the beak immersed clear to their eyes. morsels of food that were encountered were passed rapidly up the length of the bill and swallowed. when their movements carried them too near the stilts the latter hustled them about, and made them run rapidly to escape their bills, but in spite of this discouragement the godwits remained in as close proximity as permitted to their belligerent neighbors, perhaps, because of similarity in feeding habit. some hudsonian godwit gave a low chattering call when flushed, a low _qua qua_ that resembled one of the notes of _l. fedoa_. as they extend the wings to fly the dark axillars show as a patch of black and in flight the white tail, with black band across the tip is prominent. the birds are hunted to such an extent that they are exceedingly wary. when opportunity offered i took only a few for specimens. referring to their habits in alberta, c. g. harrold (1923) says: the individuals in the parties seen on april 29 were feeding very close together like dowitchers. not a single bird was seen on dry land and most of them were wading about in water 4 inches to 6 inches deep, one bird swimming after the manner of a yellow-legs which has waded out of its depth. although the hudsonian godwits associate with the marbled, the latter bully them considerably, chasing them away if they approach the marbled too closely when feeding. _voice._--mr. harrold (1923) says that "their call note is a soft _chip_ (very unlike the harsh notes of the vociferous marbled), and when alarmed they utter a low sandpiper-like chattering." they are usually very silent birds. _field marks._--in spring plumage the hudsonian godwit can be recognized easily at almost any distance by the rich brown underparts, almost black upper parts, white rump, and black tail; at a long distance it looks very black. on the wing in all plumages the white rump and black tail are conspicuous and the wings are diagnostic; the axillars are jet black and the lining of the wing is black; the wings are nearly black, with a small, central white patch, much smaller than that of the willet. an immature bird while standing, might be mistaken for a willet, but it is a much slenderer bird and has a longer, slenderer bill. _fall._--hudsonian godwits gather in flocks on the western shores of hudson bay, preparing for their eastward migration to the atlantic coasts of the maritime provinces and new england. the normal migration route is probably over the ocean from nova scotia to british guiana or brazil, the birds being seen in new england and long island only when driven in by severe storms. e. a. preble (1902) saw a number on the beach about 50 miles north of york factory as early as july 19, and it was last seen by him below cape churchill on august 24, 1900. this was the beginning of the eastward migration from hudson bay. the species is practically unknown in the interior of southern canada in the fall. doctor sanford (1903) writes: i have seen these birds on some of the islands in the gulf of st. lawrence in large flocks. they arrive late in july, the first comers being steadily augmented by new arrivals until by the first week of august their greatest abundance has been reached. from this time on the numbers rapidly decrease, and by the last of the month only odd birds are seen. the young appear about the middle of september, and until october 1 are common in the same locations. on the adjacent mainland and the shores farther south the birds are seldom met with, and then only as odd stragglers. where they stop next and what their course is on departing is a mystery. probably they keep well out to the open sea, and along with the golden plover wisely skip the united states in the fall flight south. as indicated above, hudsonian godwits evidently pass by new england far out at sea in fair weather, as they are strong, swift fliers, capable of a long, continuous flight. but during heavy easterly storms they are occasionally driven in and onto our coasts. the first one i shot was one of four birds taken on monomoy island, massachusetts, september 5, 1892, after a severe northeast storm, which lasted for two days and brought in a heavy flight of shore birds. this was an adult. i have two other birds, both young birds, taken on cape cod on october 2 and 4. mr. forbush (1912) reports "a flock of about 50 birds seen at ipswich on august 26, 1908, of which several were killed." he also says: on august 13, 1903, a large flight occurred on the long island coast and many were killed, but little was heard of them to the southward. the only flight of godwits that is shown on the record of chatham beach hotel for seven years is in august, 1903. no birds were taken on the 13th, when the great flight appeared on long island, for at chatham the weather apparently was fair, with a west wind. one bird, perhaps a straggler from the long island flight, was picked up on the 20th after a southeast wind had blown for two days. on the 26th a northeast wind set in, and it blew from the east or northeast for six days. on the 29th seven godwits were killed. during the seven years for which the record was kept godwits were taken only singly or in pairs, with the above exception, and the record shows 42 killed all told. twenty-four were taken during east, north, or northeast winds; eight in northwest winds; six in southwest winds; two in west winds; and only one in a south wind. mr. s. prescott fay (1911) reports an unusually heavy flight at cape cod from early in august until october 22, 1910, during which 25 birds were shot on 17 different dates. he saw a flock of 10 on august 15, but says: in most cases they were lone birds and, contrary to their habits, were tame and decoyed readily. however, on september 5, during a heavy easterly storm with a downpour of rain, a flock of 30 to 35 birds went over our stand at chatham. instead of alighting, as we supposed they would do, for they appeared very much exhausted, they continued their slow flight and disappeared, going due south in the heaviest part of the storm. however, a man a short way below us shot three of these birds as we watched them go over him high up, and later we found some one else above us had shot one from the same flock only a minute or two earlier. one of these men estimated that the flock contained over 40 birds, so my figures may be too low or else, after he fired, the birds may have separated so that we might have seen only part of the original flock. _winter._--the winter home of the hudsonian godwit is in extreme southern south america, from argentina and chile south to the straits of magellan and the falkland islands. a. h. holland (1892) says that, in argentina, it "appears in flocks late in the winter after heavy rains from july to august. they were met with both in summer and winter plumage." ernest gibson (1920) reported it as formerly "very abundant, in numerous flocks, some of apparently over 1,000," in the province of buenos aires. he says that- on more than one of these occasions several birds have dropped to my gun. the flock would then again and again sweep round and hover over the individuals in the water, uttering loud cries of distress, quite regardless of my presence in the open and the renewed gunfire. though the godwit is such an excellent table bird, i found myself unable to continue the slaughter under these circumstances. i might select my birds, but so closely were they packed together that the shots went practically "into the brown," and caused innumerable cripples. conditions have changed since then, for doctor wetmore (1926) writes: save for a record to be mentioned later, the hudsonian godwit was first recorded on november 13, 1920, when four, in winter plumage, were found with small sandpipers on the tidal flats near the mouth of the rio ajo, below lavalle, buenos aires. two more were seen here on november 15. the species was not noted again until march 3, 1921, when two were seen along the laguna del morte in the outskirts of guamini, buenos aires. four more were found on march 4, one in brown dress and the others still in winter plumage. on march 5 eight were recorded, one only showing distinct signs of breeding plumage. on the day following three passed swiftly northward over the lake without pausing to alight, while on march 7 eight were seen together and a single bird later, and by a lucky shot i secured one, a male. march 8, 12 that fed in a small bay were so slow in rising that i secured 3. at dusk 12 more came to roost on a mud bar in company with golden plover. though reported 50 years ago as found in great bands and among the most abundant of shore birds in this region, the small number that i have recorded here are all that were observed in continued field work throughout the winter range of the species. i was fortunate in seeing these, as by chance i found a spot where they tarried in northward migration from some point to the south. the passing of this fine bird must be a cause for regret among sportsmen and nature lovers alike, to be attributed to the greed of gunners and to the fact that its large size and gregarious habit made it desirable to secure and when opportunity offered easy to kill in large numbers. there is little hope even under the most rigorous protection that the species can regain its former numbers. it would appear that the small number that remain winter mainly in patagonia, as the species was encountered in any number only when in migration from that region. distribution _range._--north america, chiefly east of the rocky mountains to southern south america. now almost extinct. _breeding range._--the only eggs of this species that have been collected were taken at mackenzie bay and on the anderson river, mackenzie. it has been reported in summer from alaska (kenai, nulato, ugashik, mouth of the yukon river, and point barrow); east to prince edward island and the magdalen islands (audubon); but in no case, save the one above mentioned, is there satisfactory evidence of breeding. preble found it common on the barren grounds south of cape eskimo, during the early part of august, and it also was noted by him in the country north of york factory, in the middle of july. _winter range._--the hudsonian godwit appears to winter only in southern south america. it has been taken or observed at this season in the falkland islands (mare harbor); argentina (chubut valley, lavalle, azul, buenos aires, and la plata); and chile (straits of magellan, ancud, and valparaiso). macfarlane (1887) reported them as abundant on the coast of peru (san juan) on november 9, 1883, but it seems unlikely that they were preparing to winter in that latitude. _spring migration._--this species always has been apparently rare on the atlantic coast in spring and but few records are available. among these are maryland, west river, may 6, 1886 (only record for the state); delaware, rehoboth, may 8, 1906; and new york, long beach, may 23, 1925. records of spring arrival for the interior are not much more numerous but among these are: louisiana, vinton, april 22; missouri, april 19; illinois, albany, april 22; ohio, new bremen, april 22, and youngstown, april 26; michigan, detroit, may 14; ontario, point pelee, may 13; iowa, blue lake, may 7; minnesota, heron lake, april 19, and grant county, april 25; kansas, lawrence, april 19; nebraska, lincoln, may 10; south dakota, vermilion, may 8; north dakota, harrisburg, may 6; saskatchewan, indian head, may 11; montana, terry, may 10; alberta, beaverhill lake, april 28; mackenzie, fort anderson, june 7; and alaska, fort kenai, may 5, valdez, may 10, lynn canal, may 12, and st. michael, may 22. late dates of spring departure are: ontario, toronto, june 13; iowa, sioux city, may 17; wisconsin, albion, june 3; minnesota, grant county, may 15, hallock, may 17, hallock, may 18, and mankato, may 25; nebraska, lincoln, may 22, and ceresco, june 12; south dakota, vermilion, may 24; north dakota, charlson, may 22; and manitoba, shoal lake, may 29, and lake winnipegosis, june 5. _fall migration._--early dates of arrival in the fall are: keewatin, york factory, july 19; manitoba, big stick lake, july 21; south dakota, artesian, july 10; iowa, sioux city, august 12; ontario, rupert house, july 30, and toronto, august 20; ohio, pelee island, august 24; illinois, mount carmel, august 29, and aledo, september 9; louisiana, new orleans, september 27; rhode island, newport, july 29; new york, shinnecock, august 8, mastic, august 21, south oyster bay, august 25, and quogue, august 31; new jersey, anglesea, august 26; north carolina, pea island, september 13, 1911 (only record for the state); and west indies, barbados, october 5, and dominica, october 8. late dates of fall departures are: keewatin, cape eskimo, august 14, and fort churchill, august 24; minnesota, st. vincent, september 15; wisconsin, racine, november 1; ontario, ottawa, october 11, and toronto, october 20; quebec, montreal, october 11; massachusetts, monomoy island, october 2, ipswich, october 20, and eastham, november 3; connecticut, little river marshes, october 11, and lyme, october 30; rhode island, newport, october 13; and new york, onondaga lake, october 13, branchport, october 29, and ithaca, november 5. _casual records._--a specimen of the hudsonian godwit was taken near st. george, bermuda, in the fall of 1875. _egg dates._--arctic canada: 8 records, june 9 to 30. limosa limosa limosa (linnaeus) black-tailed godwit _contributed by francis charles robert jourdain_ habits the only claim this species has to a place in the north american fauna rests upon its accidental occurrence in greenland, where it is said to have occurred twice. there is, however, an element of doubt about the records. the first is due to fabricius, who states in his _fauna greenlandica_ that he had seen a single specimen; the next occurrence is said to have taken place near godthaab, or if holbã¶ll's reference is to the same specimen, at the kok islands near godthaab, and was recorded by reinhardt, senior, in 1824. the skin was sent to the museum at copenhagen, but dr. j. reinhardt, junior, was unable to find it there, as he states in the _ibis_ 1861, page 11. winge pertinently suggests that there may have been some confusion with _limosa haemastica_, of which species several specimens were sent to copenhagen from greenland, including one from godthaab, sent by holbã¶ll. the distance from iceland to greenland is not very great, but one would expect stragglers from that direction to arrive on the east side of greenland instead of on the west side, where the great majority of accidental visitors are of nearctic origin. _spring._--fortunately we are now in possession of fairly full and complete descriptions of the courtship activities of this species on the arrival at its breeding grounds in holland (huxley and montague 1926). here it appears during the last days of march; in 1925 the first arrival took place on march 25, but up to march 31 a large proportion of the breeding stock had not yet put in an appearance. it is, however, interesting to note that many of the birds were not only on their breeding territories, but were obviously in pairs, although some unmated birds were also present and small flocks of newly arrived birds were also met with. evidently the males do not migrate in advance of the females in order to "stake out their claims," as is the case with certain other species. in the british isles, where the black-tailed godwit has long ceased to breed, it is now only an irregular passage migrant chiefly from mid april to mid june, in small numbers along the south and southeast coasts. the iceland breeding birds, however, pass through ireland on their way north and reach their destination during the latter half of april or early in may in small flocks, but in these northern latitudes the breeding season is naturally later than in central europe and the eggs are not laid till late in may. _courtship._--this is dealt with by huxley and montague (1926) in considerable detail and is divided into seven sections: (1) the ceremonial flight and its variations, (2) the joint flight, (3) the tail display, (4) the scrape ceremony, (5) the pursuit, (6) fighting, and (7) coition. taking these consecutively, the ceremonial flight is much the commonest and most striking action during the courtship period and is confined to the male alone. he rises at a steep angle with quickly beating wings, uttering repeatedly a loud trisyllabic call, _tur-ee-tur_. when a height of some 150 or 200 feet has been gained the real ceremonial flight starts. the most obvious point about it is the change of call--the quick trisyllable is suddenly replaced by a lower-toned disyllable, which may be represented by the letter _ghrutoe_ (or _grutto_, the dutch name for godwit). this change was inevitable; on no single occasion did we hear it in any way departed from. the change in flight is equally notable. the quick beat of the wings is suddenly slowed and is replaced by a succession of slow, clipping strokes; at the same time the wings are markedly bent downward just as those of the redshank in some of his courtship flights. the tail is spread to the full and is twisted round, first to one side and then to the other. simultaneously the whole body is tilted over in the same direction as the tail and the bird flaps along with slow wing beats and body heeled over for 20 or 30 yards. then the tail is screwed over toward the other side, and the body heels over correspondingly. thus the performing bird flies along rolling from side to side and repeating the _grutto_ call continuously. we are, on the whole, inclined to attribute it to the rudder action of the tail. the flight generally takes place within a circle of 150 to 300 yards in diameter and about 200 feet up, but both direction and duration are variable and huxley has seen one bird "rolling" for over a mile in a straight line, while another has come down after a dozen wing strokes. the descent is even more striking; the rolling flight and call stop simultaneously and the bird glides with rigid wings suddenly nose-diving downwards with almost closed wings till about 50 feet from the ground when the wings are opened and the godwit sideslips in all directions. just before alighting the wings are opened and held vertically for a second or two afterwards. another method, occasionally used, is to descend with the wings about two-thirds open, causing a loud roaring noise due to the wind passing through the separated primaries, and in this case the bird alights directly with spread wings and tail. the "joint flight" is shared by both sexes and is normal in character, both birds (but especially the male) calling quickly as when rising for the ceremonial flight. the female is generally slightly in front of the male on these occasions. during the "tail display" the male struts round the hen with the tail fully expanded like a fan, but depressed to about an angle of 60â° to 70â° with the horizontal and tilts it from side to side so that the black and white surface is presented to the female. the "scrape ceremony" is chiefly confined to the male who runs to a depression and crouches down in it with slightly open wings, tail coverts puffed out and compressed tail pointing upwards, while he presses his breast against the ground as if smoothing off a scrape. females were noticed to go through this action with appreciably spread tails and after some scratching with the feet. other godwits are always pursued with loud outcry, as well as harriers, lapwings, etc., but there is little real fighting between males, and what there is does not seem to be of a particularly vicious type. the opponents face each other and attempt to seize each other's bills, striking with their feet as they descend from the jump. such sparring rarely lasts longer than two or, at the outside, three minutes. in coition the hen stands rigid with horizontal bill, the male standing about a foot behind her "with vibratory wings and spread tail, uttering a clear disyllabic note; then he rises and floats forward above the female with dangling legs and no apparent change in the rate of vibration of his wings. he poses for a moment upon her back, still calling with wings held stiffly upspread and vibrating tail. immediately after pairing both birds usually continue feeding." _nesting._--the breeding grounds of this species vary considerably in character. on the great heaths of brabant one may come across a pair nesting in short, dry heather; in the dune country on the dutch coast they breed among the sea buckthorn and sallow bushes on the sandhills; in texel most pairs prefer the rectangular patches of rich grass in the "polders" (reclaimed marshes), while in jutland and iceland a few pairs breed on the vast expanses of quaking marsh near the coast. nowhere have we met with it more plentifully than in the dutch polders where i have seen as many as 13 nests with eggs in a single day. all were much alike; a saucer-like hollow in the ground where the grass was thickest and richest, lined with a thick pad of dead grass. _eggs._--here are laid the four pyriform eggs; five have been recorded once or twice, but the only case of six eggs which is known to me was probably due to two females sharing a nest. as a rule the eggs do not vary much, though sometimes a single egg may be found in which the ground color is pale bluish gray with blotches of deeper ashy gray and a few darker flecks. the great majority of eggs vary in color from greenish or olive green to olive brown and occasionally reddish brown in ground, with blotches or spots of darker brown or olive and a few ashy shell marks. the measurements of 100 eggs average 54.71 by 37.37 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =59.8= by 37.8, 55.3 by =40.7=, =48.5= by 37.7, and 55 by =34= millimeters. _young._--the only estimate of the incubation period known to me is that of faber, who gives it as 24 days, but recent evidence on this point is lacking. both sexes share in the work of incubation, according to von wangelin, and this is confirmed by huxley and montague, who noticed that in the earlier stages the male spent, at least in one case, three hours on the nest to one by the female. this, however, applies only to the daytime. hantzsch's statement, that apparently it is carried out by the hen alone, seems to be quite erroneous. the downy young as soon as dried are led out of the nest and are closely attended to by both parents. only a single brood is reared in the season. _plumages._--the molts and plumages are fully described in "a practical handbook of british birds," edited by h. f. witherby (1920), to which the reader is referred. _food._--naumann (1887) records insect larvae, worms, snails and slugs, fish and frog spawn, tadpoles; also insects (coleoptera, orthoptera, and odonata). on migration, shells of small marine and fresh-water mollusca have been found in stomachs, also insects, small shore crustacea (gammaridae) and the usual sand or gravel. _behavior._--the godwits are striking looking birds, readily recognizable in summer plumage by the cinnamon pink of the neck and breast and the bold contrast of black and white in the tail, taken in connection with the long legs and straight, slightly upturned bill. the latter character at once distinguishes them from the whimbrels and curlews and their large size marks them out from most of the other european limicolae. the loud, musical, disyllabic call of the male is also very characteristic. in winter the warm coloring is lost, but the godwits are noisy birds and at this time of year the breeding note is replaced by a monosyllabic _chut_. moreover, their contour when flying overhead is peculiar, for the long legs are carried out beyond the tail and have somewhat the effect of long middle tail feathers not unlike those of the arctic skua or jaeger. _fall._--in the british isles they begin to appear on our southeast coasts in august, though not in any numbers as a rule, and have generally left before the end of october. the iceland birds assemble in flocks at the end of august and leave the island by the beginning of september, while in south sweden, the baltic republics, and poland they desert their breeding grounds in the latter part of july and drift southwards to the north german coast. none stay in holland after september, and gradually they work their way southward to the shores of the mediterranean, where a certain number winter in favorable localities. the main streams of migration seem to be towards the straits of gibraltar on the west side and along the east side of the balkan peninsula, but along the west side of the peninsula they are much scarcer. considerable numbers of west asiatic birds migrate to the marshes of the euphrates and winter there, while others pass into india and burma. _winter._--during the winter months these godwits either haunt the seashore, displaying special preference for low-lying coasts where extensive areas of mud flats are exposed at low tide, or else are to be found where there are large marshes along the edges of lakes, and less frequently by the banks of rivers. on the open coasts and the spanish marismas they are subject to a good deal of persecution from the larger falcons, especially the peregrine, which greatly appreciates them as an article of diet. lord lilford describes the great flocks of these godwits on the lower reaches of the guadalquiver as spreading out into long lines or gathering into dense masses like starlings or dunlins, when trying to avoid the attentions of their long-winged enemies. distribution _breeding range._--in iceland it is very local, being confined to the low-lying country in the southwest (arnes and rangarvalla-sysla), where it breeds in fair numbers; faroes (only once definitely recorded); formerly in the british isles from yorkshire to norfolk, but extinct as a breeding species since 1847, unless a possible lincolnshire record for 1885 is accepted; belgium, holland, and its islands, west jutland, north germany, locally in south sweden, hungary, poland, the baltic republics (lithuania, latvia, estonia); in russia, according to buturlin, it breeds in the governments of st. petersburg (leningrad), moscow, riazan, on the volga south to the mouth of the kama, in the ufa and perm governments north to 60â° n. in western asia it nests in the tobolsk government. the irtysh valley, baraba steppe, and locally in turkestan, but the exact limits of this and the smaller eastern race (_l. l. melanuroides_ gould) are not yet defined. _winter range._--the main winter quarters of this species are in the mediterranean region, the coasts of north africa, and the nile valley, the marshes of iraq and the indian peninsula east of burma. it has been recorded from the azores, maderia, and the canaries; is common in suitable localities along the north african littoral from morocco through algeria and tunisia to egypt, and has been recorded from the egyptian sudan, kordofan, and abyssinia, and exceptionally as far south as natal. in asia it ranges to the persian gulf, the indian peninsular, but scarce in the south, ceylon, burma, etc., while the eastern race visits the islands of malaysia and ranges to australia. _spring migration._--the northward movement from morocco takes place in february and march and it appears in andalusia in february (late date april 6). in corsica it has been noted as late as april 23 and on passage, malta, march 24-25. in tunisia it is most plentiful in february and march, and does not stay in egypt after march (late date april 7). it also stays in the plains of northern india until march (late date delhi, may 25). it passes through portugal in february and march; italy in march and april; greece (february 10, march 7, etc.); montenegro, large flock march 17-25; bulgaria (march 10-31, flock of 200 on april 1). _fall migration._--the southward bound hosts arrive in andalusia in august-september, but in portugal, though a few appear in september, most pass in october. in north italy the earliest arrival dates from the end of july, and in the balkan peninsular and the passage lasts from september to november (early date august 18, bulgaria, late date november 13, bulgaria), reaching egypt in october. at the euphrates marshes it arrives early in august and reaches india in october (early date, nepal, september 7). _egg dates._--in holland and germany the first eggs may be found in the last 10 days of april and early may, but as they are largely taken for the market at that time, many sets in collections are second and even third layings. seven records, april 18-30; 10 records, may 1-10; 12 records, may 11-20; 8 records, may 21-25. in jutland breeding is rather later; six records may 10-15; and still later in iceland, six records, may 23-june 2. glottis nebularia (gunnerus) greenshank _contributed by francis charles robert jourdain_ habits the claim of this species to a place in the north american list dates back to audubon, who obtained three specimens on sand key, near cape sable, florida. since that occurrence no other specimens have been obtained. _courtship._--there are few species the study of whose family life is attended with greater difficulties than the greenshank. in the first place it is an exceedingly wary and keen-sighted bird, and furthermore, it is not sociable during the breeding season, each pair nesting apart from its fellows in some of the wildest and most desolate country imaginable. in the british isles its main breeding grounds are on the vast expanse of sodden moorland, interspersed here and there by lochs and "flows" (stretches of water-logged ground with black peaty pools), which cover a great part of the scottish counties of sutherland, caithness, and ross. further southward it also breeds on suitable ground in inverness-shire and other parts, but here the country is more broken and varied and there are big stretches of old pine forest and more modern coniferous plantations. in both classes of country observation is attended with difficulties. on the open treeless moorlands houses are few and far between, the climate is anything but inviting in early may, rainstorms are frequent, varied by squalls of hail and fogs, while in some seasons heavy snowfalls take place from time to time. on the other hand the country is open, with few hills of any size, and the direction of the birds' flight can be marked for long distances, while further south, though the extent of possible breeding ground is infinitely smaller, it is far more difficult to follow a bird in flight as it skims over a belt of forest or round a shoulder of a hill. so it is little wonder that of the actual courtship of the greenshank we have hardly anything on record. what little we know may be classified under two heads; the wonderful song flight of the male and the ritual of the courtship itself. the song flight may be seen even after incubation has begun, though possibly only in the earlier stages, and has been noticed by several observers. the fullest and best description is that of mr. j. walpole bond (1923), which may be summarized as follows: when singing, the greenshank rises fairly high--sometimes very high--above the moor and starts by soaring, head to wind, of course. it may then remain soaring, looking very hawklike indeed, while it sings. or else--and this generally happens--it varies the performance by proceeding in a succession of downward, inverted arcs of good size, though soaring is resumed for a few moments as the summit of each curve is reached. in this case "singing" only takes place on the downward portion of the curve; on the down curve, too, the wings are sometimes vibrated very rapidly. sometimes also when the "song" itself is in progress the wings are flicked up and down with measured rhythm. the song itself is a musical and moderately fast repeated dissyllable _tew-hoo_, a rich note, harmonizing with the desolate surroundings in which bird life, except for an occasional meadow pipit, (_anthus pratensis_) is often almost entirely absent. walpole bond also notes a twanging and metallic _chuck_, _dock_, or _duk_, sometimes heard after each quick _tew-hoo_, and questions whether this latter sound is vocal or caused by wings or tail. personally i have not noticed the latter sound, perhaps because i have generally heard the song at a great height and always at some distance. it should be added that this performance is often kept up for long periods. gilroy (1922) mentions a case when it lasted for twenty minutes, and though i have not timed the birds, i have heard it more or less continually for ten or twelve minutes, ending with a precipitate dive earthwards. of the actual courtship ritual i have seen no published record. the birds arrive on their breeding ground early in april. on an occasion when a heavy snowfall had practically wiped out all early nests on the caithness-sutherland moors, i saw two birds on a little sandy spit by the side of a small loch. the male was evidently pressing his attentions on his mate and approached her with high flapping wings, showing the underside almost as the redshank does, and actually raising his wing over the hen until at last coition took place. both birds remained quiet for some little time afterwards and then rose together and flew away, calling all the time. _nesting._--the information with regard to the nesting habits in all the older works is of the baldest and scantiest nature, but the last decade has seen a great advance in our knowledge and mr. n. gilroy (1922) in particular has published a fascinating little pamphlet on this bird in which his observations on over twenty nests examined between 1906 and 1922 are carefully coordinated, so that now the actions and movements of breeding birds are much better understood. the whole account is of the deepest interest, but as it extends to some twenty pages it is only possible here to give a short rã©sumã© of the present stage of our knowledge. the greenshank generally nests within easy reach of some small lochan, often a mere pool, to which the young can easily be led by the parents soon after they are hatched out. the nest itself is usually on dry ground. on the treeless moorlands of southerland caithness it is almost always made either close up against or actually on one of the many grey bits of rock lying amongst the heather. exceptionally it has been found on the top of a hummock, but as a rule should be looked for within a few hundred yards of the feeding ground, sometimes quite exposed but difficult to see as the sitting bird exactly resembles in color the grey stones lying about and generally sits till almost trodden on. in the inverness country the birds nest close to a mark, just as the sutherland birds do, but here instead of a grey boulder it is usually a bit of bleached and dead pine, of which thousands of fragments lie scattered about. exceptionally i have known a bird make use of an iron fence post as a mark. when a bird has been found standing about the edge of some tiny pool the probability is that his mate is sitting not far away, but the difficulty of finding her is vastly increased by the fact that the main feeding ground is generally by the side of a good-sized lake, which may be any distance from one to four miles away, and here one of the pair may spend the greater part of the day. moreover, it is not uncommon to find that several pairs of birds use the same lakeside as their main resting and feeding ground. even so, if the sexes changed duties at short intervals or behaved in exactly the same manner, it would not be a matter of great difficulty to trace a bird back to its nesting ground. but there seems to be considerable individual variation in this respect. there is, however, a very strong tendency to return to the same breeding place year after year. the classical case is t. e. buckley's record of a nest found between two stones which was again occupied two seasons later presumably by the same bird, but there are innumerable cases where two or three nesting sites, used in as many years, lie within one hundred yards of one another. this makes the discovery of nests much easier if one can revisit the district for two or more years in succession. new nests are merely saucer-like depressions with a few heather stalks and some dead bents, but almost always some leaves of bay myrtle or bilberry in the hollow, and if the bird has begun to sit, some of its own small breast feathers. _eggs._--normally, four in number, occasionally only three, while five have occurred; second layings usually consist of three eggs. larger numbers, such as eight, recorded by booth, are probably due either to two hens laying together or one clutch spoilt by weather and a second laid subsequently. they are pyriform in shape and wonderfully handsome, the ground color varies from stone color to warm buff, marked sometimes sparingly and sometimes freely with irregular spots and blotches of deep red-brown, as well as ashy or purplish shell marks. in most eggs the markings are heavier at the large end. the measurements of 100 eggs average 51.41 by 34.80 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =59.8= by =37.7=, =45.8= by 35.4, and 50.4 by =32.4= millimeters. _young._--that incubation is sometimes shared by both sexes is proved by the fact that both walpole bond and seton gordon have witnessed the change of duties and the latter has actually photographed the birds in the act of changing places. yet gilroy watched one bird from 10.45 a. m. to 7.50 p. m., which remained all the time at a loch side in sutherland on may 16, although its mate was sitting on a clutch of fresh eggs. evidently there is considerable individual variation in this respect. _plumages._--the molts and plumages are fully described in "a practical handbook of british birds," edited by h. f. witherby (1920), to which the reader is referred. _food._--during the breeding season the food consists chiefly of insects and their larvae, but tadpoles and frog spawn are freely taken and oswin lee records a pair feeding busily for nearly an hour in the evening on them, and small water beetles. freshwater mollusca, such as _planorbis_, are also taken and occasionally a small fish. along insects the following genera of coleoptera have been recorded: _phyllopertha_, _cneorhinus_, _harpalus_, _dytiscus_, _gyrinus_, _aphodius_, and _ilybius_. among diptera, tipula and their larvae; also _notonecta glauca_ and _lestes nympha_. in the autumn and winter a great part of the food is picked up on the coast and includes worms, lug-worms, crustacea (_palaemon_, _crangon_, _hippolyte_, _squilla_, and in large numbers gammaridae). _behavior._--although a large proportion of its breeding area is absolutely devoid of trees, the greenshank also nests in country intersected by belts of forest, and it is interesting to note that it perches readily on trees and makes good use of them as lookout posts. it is always wary and readily takes alarm, rising with loud outcry on the approach of danger. as macgillivray notes, when searching for food it often wades out into the water until it reaches nearly to the tarsal joint and moves "with rapidity, running rather than walking and almost constantly vibrating its body." it is interesting to note the difference in the behavior of individual birds under similar circumstances. as a rule the incubating bird sits very closely and will sometimes allow herself to be touched before leaving the eggs. when flushed one bird will spring up and dart away with rapid flight and a single cry of alarm, another will for a minute or two fly about with deafening clamor, and in one case a bird dashed off but pitched about five yards away, yelping loudly and next minute flew straight at my head, with repeated cries of _ip, chip, chip, ip, chip, chip_, etc. just as it reached me it sheered off with its long green legs dangling, but returned to the charge again, repeating the process ten or twelve times, after which it settled on the ground and called vociferously, but after 10 minutes had passed flew away still calling. this behavior was, of course, quite exceptional. n. gilroy (1922) lays great stress on one note uttered when the bird is about to take its place on the eggs. this is a clear, piercing cry of _tchook-tchook-tchook_, continually uttered till the bird settles down on the nest. it does not necessarily imply that the bird is rendered uneasy by the presence of a watcher and is apparently used even when the bird is quite undisturbed, so if one is lucky enough to be within earshot when it is uttered it forms a valuable clue to the position of the nest. _fall._--when the young are fledged the family parties make their way to the coast. here they frequent the "pools of brackish water at the heads of the sand fords and the shallow margins of the bays and creeks" as macgillivray says. the same writer describes its flight as "rapid, gliding, and devious, it alights abruptly, runs to some distance, stands and vibrates." by september or october at the latest it leaves its haunts in scotland and makes its way southward along the coast line. _winter._--although there are a few midwinter records even in the british isles by far the greater proportion of these birds spend the winter from the mediterranean southward and in southern asia, the malay archipelago, australia, etc. here they are chiefly known as shore birds, only occasionally being found by the sides of inland lakes and marshes. distribution _breeding range._--scotland, chiefly in the north, but has extended its range of late years; norway, sweden, finland, russia, south to the governments of st. petersburg, pskov, tula, riazan, kazan, and ufa; across northern asia to kamchatka, south to latitude 55â° in the west and 54â° in the east. _winter range._--the mediterranean countries and africa, south to cape province and natal; in asia, india, ceylon, burma, siam, china, hainan, formosa, and japan; sunda islands, moluccas, borneo, java, timor, sumatra, norfolk island, australia, and new zealand. _spring migration._--from its winter quarters in south africa it is recorded from morocco (mogador) in may and near gibraltar in march, april, and may (late date may 22); passes corsica in some numbers (may 8), arrives in greece, where some also winter, at the end of march and in april, leaving in may (late date may 8); leaves egypt in march; passes cyprus in april and leaves the marshes of lower iraq at the end of april, and also leaves india about the same time. in france it arrives late in april or early may, and in spain has been observed as late as the third week of may, even in the south. first arrivals reach south russia in march and pass through north germany about mid-april, arriving on the british coasts from the middle of april onward and in south sweden in the latter part of may. _fall migration._--while the spring migration is usually noticed only in small numbers, in pairs or even singly, the fall migration is better marked. from mid-july to late in november they may be met with on the british coasts, but most birds leave in september-october, passing through holland in august and september-october; in north france (early date mid-july), and reaching spain in september, crossing over the straits of gibraltar in october, and malta in september (occasionally in june, july, and august, probably non-breeders). from bulgaria it is reported in september (early date august 20); montenegro, september (early date july 19); cyprus, october 3; and greece, arrives in september. some birds reach the marshes of iraq at the end of july, but mostly in august, and in india from the middle to the end of september, pegu in october. along the west coast of africa they are noted from mogador (september), gambia (september), gold coast (september 13), cape province and natal (september-october). _casual records._--has occurred in madeira, the canaries, azores, mauritius (once). cape verde islands, florida (audubon), norfolk island, chile, and buenos ayres. _egg dates._--some 39 dates from scotland all fall in may. the earliest date for a full clutch is may 9. from may 9 to 16 (22 dates), 17 to 23 (11 dates), 23 to 28 (5 dates). totanus totanus (linnaeus) redshank _contributed by francis charles robert jourdain_ habits the redshank is a recent addition to the american list. two specimens have been shot near angmagsalik, in east greenland, the first on may 29, 1902, and the second on april 24, 1909, and were recorded by the superintendent, johan petersen. unfortunately, neither bird was sent to copenhagen, so it remains uncertain whether they belong to the typical race or to the larger form described by lehn schiã¸ler as _t. totanus robustus_. doctor coues suggested (1897) that the redshank should be included in the hypothetical list of north american birds on the ground of a specimen said to have been taken on hudson bay and transmitted to the british museum, where, however, it is not to be found. _courtship._--fortunately we have very full accounts of the courtship and love song of this species from the observations of messrs. e. selous, w. farren, and j. s. huxley. mr. farren's (1910) account (incorporating much of mr. selous's notes) is as follows: in courting, the male redshank approaches the female with his head erect and his body drawn up tall and straight. as he draws near he raises his wings high above his head for an instant as when alighting on the ground after a flight. then allowing his wings gradually to droop he vibrates them and also his legs, the latter very rapidly, with a motion suggestion of a soldier "marking time." mr. selous (1906) has described this action, including the vibrating of the wings and legs, as follows: "the male bird, walking up to the female, raises his wings gracefully above his back. they are considerably elevated, and for a little he holds them aloft merely; but soon, drooping them to about half their former elevation, he flutters them tremulously and gracefully as though to please her." the female, as though unimpressed, turned from him and continued to feed, which did not greatly disturb her amorous wooer, as he also commenced to peck about as though feeding. but very soon he again walks up to the female "and now raising his wings to the fluttering height only, flutters them tremulously as before. he walks on a few steps and stops. he again approaches, and standing beside her--both being turned the same way--with his head and neck as it were curved over her, again trembles his wings, at the same time making a little rapid motion with his red legs on the ground as though he were walking fast, yet not advancing." this action occurs with fair frequency during the period before egg laying. i have witnessed it several times, having first been attracted by the raised wings of the male, rendered conspicuous by the white secondaries and undersides, without which i should probably not have seen the birds at all. the habit of deliberately extending the wings upward on alighting, and thus exposing the light undersurface is one of the most characteristic actions of the redshank, and the white gleaming of the wing for a second or so before the wings are furled often enables one to identify the species even when the birds themselves are too far off to be recognized otherwise. mr. farren (1910) also adds: redshanks are fond of perching, either on horizontal branches of trees, on posts or rails; in the cambridgeshire fens i have seen them displaying, as described by stevenson, on the long low stacks of freshly dug peat, and also on the ground. a male may be seen running fussily about in front of the female, vibrating its body and drooping its wings and often uttering a note similar to the trilling song which accompanies the spring soaring flight. j. s. huxley (1912) gives a clearer and more complete picture of the courtship than any previous describer. the first stage consists in the pursuit of a hen by a male bird. directly he stops feeding and runs after her, she runs away. never in a straight line for any distance, but in a series of curves, often doubling back and sometimes describing a circle or even a figure of eight, while the cock follows her line a few yards behind. the cock's head is held sideways at an angle of quite 20 degrees with the line of his body in order to keep the hen in view, and his neck is stiffly stretched out. his pure white tail is expanded so that half is visible on each side of his folded wings. the chase often lasts for quite a long time, when the hen flies off leaving the male disconsolate, but sometimes she will stop and then the second stage begins. the male may run on a yard or two, but soon stops. he first unfolds his wings and raises them right above his back so as to expose their conspicuous undersurface of pure white, somewhat clouded or barred with grey. then fluttering them tremulously but keeping them raised all the time he advances very, very slowly towards the hen, lifting his feet high in the air and often putting them down scarcely in advance of where they were before. meantime as he steps on he stretches his neck a little forward, opens his mouth, and gives utterance to a single continuous note, which is changed into a long roll or rattle by the quick vibration of the lower mandible. the sound is quite like that of a nightjar, but higher and without any of the little breaks in the pitch of the note. so he advances closer and closer, the hen usually remaining motionless. again at any time during this stage she may reject his suit by flying off, but if she is going to accept him, she simply stays still, often without moving a muscle the whole time. as the cock gets closer, he gets more and more excited, vibrates his wings more and more rapidly, at length so fast that almost his whole weight is supported by them, though he still continues to execute the high stepping movements with his feet. at last when just behind the hen, he abandons the ground and flutters up on to her back on which he half alights. the period when he is there on her back is the third and last state of the courtship; it is very short and is of course in a sense nothing more than getting into the proper position for the actual pairing. sometimes the hen, suddenly repugnant, gives a violent jerk or sideways twist and shakes him forcibly on to the ground, herself running or flying away. occasionally, however, she apparently is satisfied; she spreads her tail diagonally and the cock with a quick and wonderfully graceful motion, half supported all the time by his fluttering wings, accomplishes the act of pairing. then the hen gives the same violent twist that i have just mentioned, he gets shaken off, and they both begin quietly feeding, often side by side. the love flight of the redshank is a very striking feature of the courtship and may be seen even after incubation has begun. j. s. huxley (1912) describes it as follows: a redshank rises up into the air, and there flies in a series of switchbacks. just before the bottom of each switchback he gave very quick wing flaps, almost fluttering, one would call it, this made him start up again. he went on fluttering or flapping till he was about halfway up and for the rest of the upstroke of the switchback he soared up with the impetus he had gained. his wings now were set back and down; his neck and head thrown up in a beautiful proud attitude; his tail spread out. then he turned the angle of his wings and glided down, still in the same attitude. while flying thus he gives vent to what one may call a song--a series of pure, sweet single notes, never uttered on other occasions. the flight may be quite short, or may go on for several minutes. w. farren (1910) writing of the same love-flight describes the song as "_dhu-lee, dhu-lee, du-lee, du-lee, du-le, dle-dle-dle-dle_," the latter part becoming shorted and quicker as it nears the end, when it may be continued to a vanishing point. it should be noted that the nightjar-like note already referred to is only used on the second stage of the courtship, yet it was audible at all hours of the day and night from which huxley deduced that, as only a fraction of the courtships were consummated and the total number of birds did not exceed 50, each bird must pair several times a day. the contests between the males seem to be usually of a formal character, but selous (1906) describes one case where two birds fought with determination, jumping at one another and each attempting to seize the mandibles of the other with its own. _nesting._--the iceland redshank has very similar habits to the ordinary european bird and haunts the swamps and morasses near the sea as well as the neighborhood of the larger lakes inland during the breeding season. here it nests in colonies, varying in number from five or six to about twenty pairs. the nests are usually some distance apart, and generally well concealed, the sitting bird choosing a hollow where the vegetation grows thickest. in the british isles the common redshank has greatly increased its breeding range during the last 25 years and has gradually made its way inland up the river valleys to many districts where it was previously quite unknown. here it shares its breeding grounds with the lapwing (_vanellus vanellus_), but the nest is not exposed like that of the latter but neatly hidden at the foot of some tall wisp of dead grass. the bird will even twist the dead grasses together to get the required protection and some nests are so artfully hidden that they can only be found by accidentally flushing the bird. in an east anglian marsh a bird got up almost at my feet. there was a small flattened tussock of grass with long dead stalks growing up round it, but not a sign of nest or eggs, yet i felt certain that the bird had been incubating. on probing the solid-looking green tussock my fingers slipped into a hollow space beneath, where the four eggs were lying. the bird had been sitting in a neat cup of grass, completely roofed in above, and had slipped out by parting the growing grass at the side, which had closed up again. exceptionally nests may be found, especially near the coast, quite exposed, but as a rule the bird takes advantage of every bit of cover available. on the level patches of short rich grass in the dutch polders many pairs breed, and i have seen sixteen nests in a day. narrow drains only a few inches wide are cut by the farmers in the turf, and here the grass is not cropped quite so close at the sides, so even under these disadvantageous conditions the redshanks avoid the open flats and prefer the partial concealment of the drain sides. in the great mud flats of the marisma of the river guadalquiver in south spain, too, there is little in the way of cover, but the nests are never so exposed as those of the stilt or avocet. but wherever found, whether in iceland, holland, or spain, there are the excited parents flying round and round with incessant and clamorous cries of _tu-e-too, tu-e-too_, alarming all the other breeding species and generally the first to give warning of danger. the nest is substantially made of grasses and hollowed out by the pressure of the bird's breast and little in the way of extraneous matter is used, though occasionally, especially in open sites, quite a substantial cup may be built of stalks, grasses, bits of heath, moss, etc. _eggs._--normally four, rarely five, but in second or third layings three are not uncommon, and cases of six, seven, and eight eggs in a nest have been recorded, probably due to two hens laying together, though in some instances they may be due to a full clutch being laid after an interruption by snow or floods. the eggs are pyriform in shape and when large series are examined, show considerable variation, the ground color ranging from creamy white, stone color, to pale greenish gray or light purplish red and warm reddish ochreous. they are freely blotched and spotted with purple brown or rich red brown and ashy shell marks; sometimes a dark hair streak at the big end. in some eggs the blotches are very large, but others are more uniformly marked with small spots. in a series they show much richer and redder coloring than _vanellus_, _himantopus_, or _recurvirostra_, and lack the distinctive green ground of _tringa erythropus_. the measurements of 36 eggs from iceland average 45.39 by 31.75 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 49 by 32.4, 46.5 by =33.1=, =42.3= by 31.3, and =43.7= by =30.5= millimeters. the measurements of 100 british eggs average 44.56 by 31.56 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =48.4= by 32.4, 46.5 by =33.1=, and =41.5= by =28.5= millimeters. it would be seen from the above figures that icelandic eggs (like the birds) are slightly larger than british specimens. the incubation period lasts 23 to 25 days and is apparently chiefly undertaken by the female, but j. cunningham has shot the male from the eggs. _plumages._--the molts and plumages are fully described in "a practical handbook of british birds," edited by h. f. witherby (1920), to which the reader is referred. _food._--the redshank is a shore feeder to a great extent for the autumn months and often a riverside and marsh harvester in spring and summer. in the latter season its food consists chiefly of insects and their larvae, including coleoptera (_hyphidrus_, _onthophagus_, etc.), diptera, especially tipulidae; also the larvae of ephemeridae and phryganeidae, spiders, worms (_lumbrici_); and it is said small frogs and berries are also taken. in autumn crustacea (including gammaridae, shrimps, and small crabs) are taken; also mollusca (_cardium_) and smaller marine univalves and annelids in addition to insect food when procurable; and small fish have been found in the stomach by professor patten. _behavior._--the restless and wary nature of this very numerous species renders it very unpopular with the shore shooters, as its loud yelping cry of _took took_ alarms every bird within earshot. as they are poor eating and do not pay for shooting, they frequently escape, although a good many are shot. during the breeding season it is quite a common sight to see a redshank perched on a post, or tripping lightly along a rail with upraised wings, and it will at times even settle on a tree. _fall._--as soon as the young are able to fly (for only one brood is reared in the season) the redshanks form into family parties or small flocks and work their way down the valleys toward the shore. on the british coasts large reinforcements arrive from the continent, but it is not possible to tell whether the birds which remain throughout the winter are visitors from the north or locally bred birds. in iceland they leave about the end of september or early in october, and on the british coasts are most numerous from mid-july to mid-november. _winter._--the main winter quarters of this species are in africa, but it is of scarce occurrence in the south; and also in southwestern asia; farther east in asia it is replaced by other races, which winter in india, the malay peninsula, and the islands of malaysia. distribution _breeding range._--in iceland and the faeroes the breeding race is _t. totanus robustus_. the typical race (_t. totanus totanus_) breeds in suitable localities throughout the british isles and the continent of europe, north to latitude 71â° in norway, rare in north finland, and scarce in russian lapland, while it is absent from the islands off the north russian coast and reaches about latitude 58â° n. in the urals and 56-1/2â° in west siberia. southward its range extends to andalusia, northern italy, sardinia, and in small numbers to greece, as well as at over 6,000 feet in the caucasus. probably it also nests in morocco, though this has not yet been proved, and perhaps also in tunisia, while in west asia it breeds in turkestan. east asiatic birds apparently belong to another race or races. _winter range._--the iceland race (_t. totanus robustus_) passes through the british isles and has been recorded from morocco. the typical race (_t. totanus totanus_) winters in small numbers in the british isles and also on the scandinavian coast, but not in central europe, crossing the mediterranean and wintering in africa, where it has been recorded in cape province and natal, but only in small numbers, the majority evidently wintering in the tropics. eastward it is found in the marshes of iraq and the shores of the persian gulf, but probably indian birds and those which winter in ceylon, the andamans, malay peninsula, china, hainan, borneo, java, sumatra, philippines, celebes, sunda islands, and japan belong to other races. _spring migration._--the passage northward at the straits of gibraltar takes place in march and april, while in tunisia most leave in april, though specimens have been obtained in june (probably non-breeders); and in egypt it stays till april. in abyssinia it has been met with in march (march 12, zoulla) and most leave the marshes of iraq in mid-may, though some stay till the end of the month. it passes malta in march and april, and nearly all have left greece by may, but passes cyprus in april, arriving in holland and denmark in april and sweden late in that month and reaching finland early in may. large numbers passed over st. catherine's light in the isle of wight from 2.30 a. m. till dawn on april 3 and 4, 1910. _fall migration._--in south sweden it leaves in september and also departs from denmark and holland about the same time. the passage at the straits of gibraltar takes place in september and october and in malta in september, while in the iraq marshes the first arrivals take place at the end of july, but the majority come in august, and it is recorded from fao in august and september, arriving in egypt in september, while it has occurred as far south as the river niger in the same month. _casual records._--it is an occasional visitor on passage to the canaries and has been met with on madeira (march 15, april 20, 26, september 24, october 24) as well as in east greenland (angmagsalik april 24, may 29). _egg dates._--in iceland the eggs are laid from the end of may to early in june, may 28-june 8 (six dates), june 9-18 (five dates). in the british isles the first eggs are laid at the end of march and through april and may, but late records in may, even in the north, are probably due to second layings: march 28 to april 16 (10 dates); april 17 to 25 (16 dates); april 26 to may 5 (10 dates). in the shetlands saxby records the first eggs on may 16. in holland i have seen some 60 nests between may 11 and 31, but many were undoubtedly second layings. in salonika eggs have been found as early as march 5. totanus melanoleucus (gmelin) greater yellow-legs habits the names, telltale and tattler, have long been applied to both of the yellow-legs, and deservedly so, for their noisy, talkative habits are their best known traits. they are always on the alert and ever vigilant to warn their less observant or more trusting companions by their loud, insistent cries of alarm that some danger is approaching. every sportsman knows this trait and tries to avoid arousing this alarm when other, more desirable, game is likely to be frightened away. and many a yellow-legs has been shot by an angry gunner as a reward for his exasperating loquacity. the two yellow-legs are still left on our list of game birds, because their numbers do not seem to decrease much in spite of the large numbers that are killed every year by sportsmen. william brewster (1925) says that he has "failed to note any decided lessening of their numbers in new england during the past 30 or 40 years." this stability in numbers is probably more apparent than real. the birds have been driven from many of their former haunts by increased building of summer colonies, improvements in seashore resorts, draining and filling of marshes, and other changes; so that fewer birds can make the restricted localities seem as well populated as ever. _spring._--the spring migration of the greater yellow-legs is well marked on both coasts and in the interior, a generally northward trend. it begins in march, reaches the northern states in april and extends through may or even into june, although most of the birds are on their breeding grounds in may. the bulk of the flight passes through massachusetts in may and through california in april. it seems to avoid the prairie regions of southern canada; william rowan tells me that he and c. g. harrold regard it as "probably the scarcest of the regular waders. in years of steady collecting, during the height of the migration, spring and fall, he (harrold) has seen the greater yellow-legs only half a dozen times." j. a. munro tells me that in southern british columbia, okanagan landing, it is much less common in spring than in fall; he has recorded it as early as march 23. j. r. whitaker writes to me from newfoundland that he usually sees the first yellow-legs during early may: "on their first arrival the high tundras are still in the grip of winter and many of the ponds on the lower levels are partly covered with ice." john t. nichols tells me that it is often abundant on long island in the spring. he says in his notes: "in may, 1919, the waters of a certain nontidal coastal creek, due to wind conditions, receded to an unprecedented lowness, leaving broad muddy shores exposed where almost always water stands. in what seemed almost a magical response to the unusual water conditions, about 100 greater yellow-legs assembled at the creek, the largest flock i have ever seen. alighted, the birds were silent, and without the nervous _hikkuping_ one associates with this species. once all got up and circled in a compact flock to return to the mud and shallows again." _courtship._--mr. whitaker writes to me: the time for nesting varies as much as 10 days between the few pairs which frequent the lower levels and the bulk of the birds which nest on the high grounds. on the lowlands a pair of birds will take up their quarters near the place they intend to nest soon after their arrival and the cock bird may be seen high up in the air uttering his nesting song. he will sometimes be so high that he appears but a speck against the blue sky. his loud notes carry a long distance and sound like _tweda-tweda-tweda_ uttered quickly and continually for quite a long time. dr. charles w. townsend (1920) writes: the courtship song of the greater yellow-legs comes up from the marshes of essex county throughout the month of may, but is heard in greater volume during the two middle weeks. it has a sweet and pleading character and seems to say _wull yer? wull yer?_ although it differs from the flickerlike call described in the original memoir, which may be heard at the same time, it, too, has a decided flickerlike flavor. it is heard throughout the day, but in the evening until it is nearly dark the marshes often resound with the plaintive callings. h. s. swarth (1911) observed some greater yellow-legs on the wooded islands of southeastern alaska in april, of which he says: at this time the males were going through various courting antics, posing with upraised, quivering wings, or running in circles on the sand bars around the object of their attentions, and incessantly uttering the shrill whistle peculiar to the species. _nesting._--considering the fact that the greater yellow-legs is such a common and widely distributed bird, remarkably little has been published on its nesting habits, and comparatively few nests have been found, in spite of the fact that it does not go very far north to breed and its breeding grounds are fairly accessible. i know from personal experience with it that its nest is very hard to find. i have spent many hours hunting for its nest on the high tundras of central newfoundland, where it breeds commonly, and secured only one set of eggs. the male bird is very noisy and solicitous, flying out to meet the intruder while he is a long way from the nest, alighting on any available spruce tree, stump, rock, or other eminince, pouring out a steady stream of invective cries and showing the greatest anxiety, but giving not the slightest clue as to the location of the nest. and the female sits so closely on the nest that it is only by the merest chance that she can be flushed. the high tundra around gafftopsail and quarry, newfoundland, is an immense tract of boggy ground, full of small ponds and muddy splashes, interspersed with mossy hummocks and outcroppings of rocks. my set was taken there on june 9, 1912; it was in a mere hollow in the moss on a small hummock in a shallow, muddy pond hole; the female was flushed, and the four eggs were fresh. mr. whitaker has sent me the following notes on the nesting habits of the greater yellow-legs in newfoundland: on june 17, 1919, whilst walking over a big tundra with a friend (geo. h. stuart, 3rd), a yellow-shank which flew up from the side of a water hole showed considerable excitement, there were a number of small ponds just there dotted with mossy islands; we beat all the ground between these ponds but could find nothing, however, we noticed that each time we approached the edge of the tundra where a stunted growth of scattered dead larch trees were, and where the wintergreen, laurel, and labrador tea bushes merged into the sphagnum of the tundra, the bird seemed more excited and flew close round our heads shrieking out his harsh notes _tee erk, tee erk, tee erk_ more fiercely. we decided to hide away at some distance and watch, thinking this must be the hen bird and we would wait until she returned to the nest. we retired several hundred yards and hid in some spruces, the bird following part of the way and alighted on the top of a bush growing in the moss and there remained for upwards of an hour, then flew to a pond near, settling on an island, fed for a while, and after preening went to sleep; this seemed absolutely hopeless, so we decided to have another look over the ground. each of us had a long pole with a handkerchief tied to the end, with these we covered all the ground which appeared suitable most thoroughly without any results. i then remembered hunting for green-shanks nests in the north of scotland; there the nests were usually placed on a dry ridge, and seeing such a ridge near the edge of the tundra i suggested to my friend that we should go and look it over. we had not proceeded in its direction more than 10 yards when right in front of me and not more than 6 feet away on the top of a dry peat hummock amongst some scrubby tea plant squatted a yellow-shank with a downy young one on her back. i called my friend, who was only a few yards away; he came and we both watched the bird for some time before putting her up. when she did go there were four downy young in a very slight hollow without any trace of nesting material but a few leaves which had probably blown in. amongst these we found some fragments of eggshell. on june 6th of the following year i was out on that tundra again and worked my way towards where we had found the nest, but never saw or heard a sign of the bird. however, i went to the old nest and when within 3 feet to my astonishment saw a yellow-shank lying flat on the nest. i could hardly believe my eyes. i watched her for some time as she sat there perfectly motionless; on putting her up, she began to scold loudly, sometimes flying close round my head and then she would perch on a dead bush near, bobbing her head, uttering _tee erk, tee erk, tee erk_ all the time. four beautiful eggs lay in the slight depression. i had been there fully 15 minutes when away in the far distance i heard another yellow-shank which quickly approached and was evidently the mate, for they both continued their abuse until i was out of sight. it very often happens that the male bird is not within miles of the incubating female, and under these conditions finding a nest is a mere fluke. there is one rule which holds good in all the nests i have found, and this is that a yellow-legs never nests on ground which is too soft to scratch in. there must be soil or dry, hard peat. i once found a nest on a boulder which had a thin covering of peat and reindeer moss on it, whilst the surrounding ground was wet and mossy, so being unsuitable for making a scratch. the nest is nearly always placed quite close to a flashet or pond of water; i have only twice seen a nest at a distance of 20 yards from any water hole. william brewster (1883) found the greater yellow-legs abundant on anticosti island in july and, although he found no eggs or young, he obtained "the strongest circumstantial evidence" that the birds were breeding there. the fact that this island has been for many years a protected sanctuary may have had some effect in keeping up the supply of these birds. fifty years or more ago dr. e. w. nelson (1877_a_) found several pairs of greater yellow-legs about the calumet marshes, which from their actions he felt sure were breeding there. he records a nest and four eggs found near evanston, illinois, in june, 1876; "the nest was situated in a slight depression at the base of a small hillock near the border of a prairie slough, and was composed of grass stems and blades." ernest s. norman (1915) while driving over a soft and spongy spot in a swamp, in manitoba, in which his team nearly became mired, was surprised to see a greater yellow-legs fly up from its nest within 1 foot of the front wheel of the wagon. the nest, which contained four heavily incubated eggs on june 24, is thus described: the nest was just a depression in the moss, with a few bits of ivy grass as a lining. it had no shelter whatever, as a fire had swept over the place about a month previous to the finding of the nest so that there was not even grass growing anywhere near the nest. _eggs._--the four eggs, usually comprising the set, of the greater yellow-legs are ovate pyriform in shape and have a slight gloss. they are rather handsomely marked and are practically indistinguishable from eggs of the european greenshank. the ordinary ground colors are pale buff, "light buff" to "cartridge buff." they are irregularly spotted and blotched, chiefly about the larger end, with dark browns, "bay," "liver brown," and "chestnut brown," and with conspicuous underlying spots and blotches of various shades of "purple-drab." an especially handsome set in my collection, one of the most beautiful sets of waders' eggs i have ever seen, is richly colored in reddish browns. the ground colors vary from "pinkish buff" to "orange-cinnamon" or "sayal brown." the four eggs are heavily and boldly marked with large, longitudinal blotches and splashes of rich browns, "claret brown," "mahogany red," and "bay," over underlying blotches, nearly concealed, of various shades of "purple drab." the measurements of 51 eggs average 48.9 by 33 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =53.5= by 33.8, 51.8 by =35.1=, =43.7= by 31.5, and 44.9 by =30.8= millimeters. _young._--we have no data as to the period of incubation or in what way the sexes share it. both sexes share in the care of the young, which are brooded by the female for the first day. the young birds referred to by mr. whitaker had left the nest on the second day. _plumages._--in the downy young greater yellow-legs a median stripe of "bone brown" extends from the bill upwards, increasing in width until it covers the whole of the occiput; a wide loral stripe of brownish black extends from the bill to the eye; the forehead and sides of the crown are silvery gray; and the cheeks and throat are silky white. the rest of the upper parts, hind neck to rump, are variegated or heavily blotched with "bone brown," "wood brown," and pale buff, the dark color predominating, especially on the rump. the under parts are grayish white, almost gray on the breast. the juvenal plumage appears first on the scapulars and back and then on the breast. two young birds, about half grown on june 30, are fully feathered on the mantle; the breast is well feathered, but covered with white downy tips, the wings are half grown, but the tail has not appeared; the crown is "bister," streaked with white; the feathers of the back, scapulars, and wing-coverts are "bister" or "warm sepia," spotted or notched with "pinkish buff" or buffy white, whitest on the upper back and most buffy on the scapulars; the sides of the neck and upper breast are streaked with and the flanks are barred with dusky; the rest of the under parts are white. this plumage is worn for three months or more, well into october. young birds are in this plumage when they pass us on migration, but the buffy tints have mostly faded out to white. beginning in october a partial postjuvenal molt takes place involving the body plumage, most of the scapulars, and some of the wing coverts. this produces a first winter plumage which is similar to that of the adult, but the general tone of the upper parts is grayer and the feathers of the mantle are edged with dull white. the type of william brewster's lower california race, _frazari_, and most of his series of it are in this plumage. a partial, first prenuptial molt, mainly in march and april, involving the body feathers, most scapulars, some wing coverts and usually the tail, produces a first nuptial plumage. some adult nuptial plumage is acquired on the head, neck, and breast, but the head and neck are not so heavily streaked and there is less barring in lighter colors on the breast and flanks; but the mantle, back, and scapulars are very different from the adult winter or nuptial plumages; these feathers are more or less variegated, barred or spotted with ashy brown and dark sepia, and are notched, edged, or tipped with gray, grayish white or white, producing a rather evenly mottled appearance. this is apparently a nonbreeding plumage, for i have seen it only in birds taken far south of the breeding range. at the first postnuptial molt the following summer, which is complete, the adult winter plumage is assumed. adults have a partial prenuptial molt of the body plumage, usually the tail, scapulars, some tertials, and most wing coverts between february and may. in the nuptial plumage the crown is nearly all dark sepia; the mantle and scapulars are very dark sepia, almost black, notched or tipped with white spots; and the breast and flanks are heavily and irregularly barred with dark sepia. the white notches and tips wear away toward the end of the season. the complete postnuptial molt of the body plumage occurs in august and september, but the wings are not molted until winter. in adult winter plumage the crown is streaked with sepia and white about evenly; the breast and flanks are faintly marked, or peppered, with pale sepia; and the feathers of the back and scapulars are mainly plain "wood brown," with inconspicuous whitish edgings and notches. _food._--the greater yellow-legs seems to prefer to feed in shallow water; its long legs enable it to wade in deeper water than most other waders, and it is often seen using them to their full extent in water up to its body. it moves about nimbly and gracefully, actively engaged in catching small minnows and water insects, delicately balanced on its long legs, bowing or nodding, as if its body were on a pivot, in a very pleasing manner. much of its food seems to consist of small minnows, in pursuit of which it is very active and lively. mr. nichols has sent me the following notes on the subject: the greater yellow-legs at times catches killifish up to as large a size as it can swallow, wading in water as deep as it can stand. having secured a fish, it manipulates same up its long bill and into its mouth. sometimes it catches a fish tangled in a mass of fine water weed, and in this case may either fiddle with and disengage it, or work it up to its mouth and swallow it before disengaging the bill from the weed. i have seen an unusually large fish, probably (_fundulus heteroclitus_), worked up the bird's bill two or three times and turned head first to swallow, stick at the base of the bill, and drop into the water again. finally, with a great bulging of face and throat, the fish slipped down. satisfied for the moment, the bird rose and flew to the leeward end of the pond hole where it had been feeding, alighted, walked up the bank, and stood in a tuft of partly dry grass at the edge of the water, quietly facing out into the breeze for some twenty minutes, although all the time alert and watchful. in this sheltered position it would not have been noticed unless known to be there. dr. paul bartsch (1899) found a greater yellow-legs in the washington market whose throat was jammed full of top minnows. he says that many times he has "watched this bird wade out into the shallow water of the bars, moving along slowly with tilting gait, suddenly lower that long head and neck and proceed to run through the water at a speed which would have done credit to a college sprinter, quickly striking to right and left with his bill." others have noted a similar performance. i have occasionally seen greater yellow-legs on damp, grassy meadows where they were probably feeding on insects or their larvae, snails, worms, or crustaceans, all of which have been found in their stomachs. lucien m. turner refers in his notes to a bird he shot at the mouth of the koksoak river, ungava, on september 18, 1882, which had been feeding on the berries of _empetrum nigrum_. three birds collected by stuart t. danforth (1925) had eaten exclusively animal matter: "the recognizable fragments were: dragon-fly naiads, 65.33 per cent; aquatic hemiptera (_belostoma_ species), 22 per cent; fish scales (_poecilia vivipara_), 6.0 per cent; dytiscid larvae, o.66 per cent." _behavior._--the flight of the greater yellow-legs is quite swift, strong, and well sustained on the downward and sweeping strokes of its long, pointed, dark-colored wings. its long neck and bill extended forward and its long, yellow legs stretched out behind give it a slender, rakish appearance which is quite distinctive. it usually flies at a good elevation and when traveling it often flies at a great height. it scans the ground beneath, looking for a suitable place to feed or searching for desirable companions. it responds readily to the call of its own species and will often answer an imitation of its notes from a great distance; sometimes when it is too far away to be seen. when coming in from a distance it usually flies in wide circles around the caller several times until it is satisfied that it is safe to alight. it then comes zigzagging or scaling down on down-curved wings and settles lightly near its would-be companions. on alighting it stands for a moment with its wings extended upward in a graceful attitude, folds them deliberately, gives a few jerky bows or upward nods, and then either begins to feed or settles down to rest. it is not very particular as to its companions; it associates freely with any of the smaller waders that frequent the mud flats, meadows, or shallow ponds; it seems to be particularly fond of the companionship of the teals when they are feeding in shallow water. it is not as gregarious as the lesser yellow-legs; it is most often seen singly or in small parties, but i have counted as many as 40 in a flock on rare occasions. when walking on the ground its movements are lively and its carriage is graceful, though its long legs seem to give it a somewhat jerky gait at times. on its breeding ground it often alights on the tops of spruce or larch trees, or on bushes or dead stubs, on which it balances rather awkwardly. it is normally a shy and wary species; large flocks are very difficult to approach; but sometimes single individuals seem to be absurdly tame in the presence of other tame species or among decoys. some good photographs of it have been taken at short range. william brewster (1925) tells of one that he approached in the open to within ten feet and then fired his gun directly over it without causing it to fly. mr. nichols suggests, in his notes: it would seem almost as though these birds drew an abstract danger line, difficult to cross from the outside without alarming them, but once inside which, man became to them a mere harmless item of the landscape. i have had a greater yellow-legs, a bird of the year, come to decoys (under the impression that they were others of its kind) and as the water was too deep, alight and stand on one of the decoys, recognizing in it a piece of wood, meanwhile being remarkably tame, perhaps waiting for others of the flock (of decoys) to take alarm. is not this pragmatic rather than rational philosophy which they possess, the weakness most in favor of the gunner who hunts shore birds with decoys? he also adds the following notes on behavior: i have seen the greater yellow-legs preen its plumage in leisurely manner without repeatedly dipping the bill in the water, as the lesser frequently does. it reached far back over its shoulder, lifted a wing slightly to pick under it, stretched its neck up to reach the breast with its bill, and scratched its chin deliberately with the right foot. on another occasion a bathing bird crouched down in shallow water, ducking the head and at the same time fluttering and splashing vigorously with the wings. a resting bird stands at ease, neck hunched down, with slight alert movements of the head. from time to time it may turn its bill back and bury it in the feathers along the back with a little shake of same, one eye at least exposed and open though blinking sleepily. an interesting pose which may be assumed for two or three minutes is with the bill resting diagonally downward across the feathers of the breast. it may stand for a long time on one motionless straight leg, inclined so as to bring the foot under its center of gravity, the other leg raised and concealed by the feathers. though a wounded lesser yellow-legs will sometimes dive and swim under water, i have not seen the smaller species alight in spots too deep for wading. the greater yellow-legs on the other hand does so not infrequently. it swims gracefully with phalaropelike motion of the neck, held erect, stern tilted up like that of a gull. in shallow water over mud so soft and sticky that it made wading difficult i have seen a bird launch itself forward, swimming, as the easier method of propulsion. _voice._--mr. nichols (1920) has published the results of a detailed study of the vocabularies of the two yellow-legs, which are noted for the variety of their calls. he has recognized and described nine different calls of the greater yellow-legs, as follows: (1) the yodle (a rolling _toowhee toowhee_, etc.) is commonest in a flock from birds remaining in one locality, not traveling. i think i have heard it from a single bird in the fog. it is characteristically given in the air, generally with set wings, by birds which seem to contemplate alighting. it advertises birds tarrying in one general locality, and has probably the function of _location_ notice. it is doubtless homologous with the gather call of the spotted sandpiper with which it has little analogy. (2) loud ringing 3, _wheu wheu wheu_. the characteristic cry of the species, spring and fall. it is commonly given by passing or leaving birds. it advertises the species--and a change of policy in the individual according to its loudness. analogous with notes of other species spoken of as _flight notes_ or identification notes; occasionally heard from an alighted bird. this call is subject to considerable variation, when heard from a bird about to drop down and join others feeding it is comparatively low-pitched and even, leaving or about to leave a feeding ground, highly modulated. (3) four _wheus_, heard as follows, seem to have a rather definite significance: low, hurried, descending, heard from a bird leaving companion; short, clear, four, by a following bird; loud, four, bird without intention of alighting, trying to flush decoys. this may be called a _recruiting_ call. (4) twos (_wheu wheu_) seem to be characteristic of a _recruit_. a "gentle" bird which comes nicely to decoys is apt to call in twos when approaching and coming in. (5) rarely, in taking wing in the presence of an intruder, a single bird utters a string of unmodulated _wheus_ which breaks up into threes or fours as it goes off. this is likely a note of _protest_, which would be more common in the breeding season. (6) conversational murmuring, from a flock dropping in, expresses _companionship_ and confidence. (7) conversational _chup_ notes from birds about to alight, also heard from birds alighted, moving about at ease. the _alighting_ note. (8) unloud _chups_ identical with the preceding but more hurried, given by a small flock of birds as they take wing. the _flushing_ note. (9) _kyow_, common in spring, only rarely heard in southward migration; probably associated with the breeding season; seems to express _suspicion_. different renderings of some of the above notes have been given by others. mr. brewster (1883) describes a note heard on the breeding grounds as "an incessant _clack-clack-clack-clack_, which sounded very like the clatter of a mowing machine." he then goes on to say: "in addition to the cry already described, they uttered a rolling _pheu-pheu-phe, pheu-pheu-phe_, repeated a dozen times or more in quick succession; a mellow _pheu, pheu, pheu_, resembling the whistle of the fish hawk; and a soft, hollow _hoo, whoo, whoo_, very like the cooing of a dove. the latter note was given only when the bird perched on the top of some tall spruce." _field marks._--the greater yellow-legs resembles the lesser so closely in color pattern that the two can not be readily distinguished except by direct comparison in size. the bill of the greater is relatively larger, and it is rather more boldly marked. the voices of the two are somewhat different. other characters are referred to under the next species. _fall._--adults move off their breeding grounds at an early date and loiter along in a leisurely manner. the first migrants appear in the northern states in july, sometimes as early as the second or even the first week. young birds come later; there is usually a heavy flight of them during the first half of october, and many linger in massachusetts until the middle of november or later. mr. brewster (1925) says of the migration at umbagog lake, maine: "we often saw them arriving and departing by day, usually in the early morning or late afternoon if the weather were fine, at almost any time if it were stormy. when seen approaching from farther north, they were commonly first sighted so high in the air that they looked no bigger than swallows. after circling twice or thrice over the lake on set wings, whistling loudly and volubly, they were likely to pitch headlong into the marshes to feed and rest there during the remainder of the day, if not for a considerably longer period, provided no gunner happened to fare that way. some, however, kept straight on without stopping and perhaps without lowering their line of flight below the level of the mountain tops to the southward over which they were accustomed to pass." mr. whitaker tells me that the last of the yellow-shanks move out of newfoundland about the end of october; these are probably all young birds. and edward s. thomas sends me a record for columbus, ohio, of december 11, 1925. this bird well deserves the name of "winter yellow-legs." probably many migrate at sea, from nova scotia to the west indies, for capt. savile g. reid (1884) says that it is "more or less common" in bermuda, "arriving early in august and remaining for a month or so," where it is "much in request among the energetic sportsmen." _game._--the greater yellow-legs is a fine game bird; i can not say as much for the lesser yellow-legs. large numbers have been shot in past years. prof. wells w. cooke (1912) says: "a hunter near newport, rhode island, shot 1,362 greater yellow-legs in the eight seasons, 1867-1874; his highest score, 419 birds, was in 1873, from august 19 to october 19." dr. charles w. townsend (1905) reports that "463 greater yellow-legs were sent from newburyport and vicinity on one day, october 11, 1904, to a single stall in boston market." i knew an old gunner who celebrated his eightieth birthday a few years ago by shooting 40 yellow-legs. it is a pity that the delightful sport of bay-bird shooting, which was such a pleasant feature of our earlier shooting days, had to be gradually restricted. hudsonian curlew, and black-bellied and golden plover and greater yellow-legs were all fine game birds. i could see no reason for cutting out the curlew, as it is well able to take care of itself; golden plover were sadly depleted in numbers and black-bellied plover and both yellow-legs were decreasing; perhaps it was wise to eliminate them all. those were glorious days that we used to spend on the marshes of cape cod. on the inner, or bay, side of monomoy are extensive marshes, meadows, sand flats, and mud flats, 9 miles in length and nearly a mile wide in places at low tide. these were great feeding resorts for hosts of shore birds; and in the good old days, when there were shore birds to shoot and when we were allowed to shoot them, blinds were scattered all along the marshes and flats. on a dry sand spit or beach a hole was dug in the sand and seaweed was piled up around it high enough to conceal a sitting gunner; on a wet marsh a substantial blind was built of brush, with a seat in it for two men; in some places in the meadows, where the grass grew high, a box or a board to sit on was all the gunner needed. wooden or tin decoys painted to imitate yellow-legs or plover were set up in the sand or mud, all facing the wind and within easy range. here in a comfortable blind the hunter could lounge at ease, bask in the genial sun of early autumn, smoke his pipe and meditate, or watch the many interesting things about him, the rich autumn colors of the marsh vegetation, the ever-changing picture of sky and sea, the black terns and the swallows winnowing the meadows, the gulls and the terns over the sea and the flocks of small waders running over the mud flats. suddenly he is awakened from his reveries by the well-known note of the winter yellow-legs and discerns a mere speck in the distant sky; he whistles an imitation of its note; the bird answers him and, looking for companionship, circles nearer; by judicious calling the bird is attracted within sight of the decoys and, after several cautious circlings, it sets its wings and scales down to the decoys, where it meets its fate. perhaps a whole flock may slip in unexpectedly, wheel over the decoys and hurry away, giving the gunner only a hurried chance for a quick shot. perhaps a curlew may fly over or a flock of beetle-heads fly swiftly by; the gunner must be ready for all such chances. there is an ever-changing panorama of bird life on the marshes, full of surprises and delights for the nature lover. _winter._--the greater yellow-legs has a wide winter range, from the southern united states, where it is comparatively rare, to southern south america, where most of the birds seem to go. w. h. hudson (1920) says: the greater yellow-legs is best known as an arctic-american species, descending south during migration, and arriving in la plata at the end of september or early in october, singly or in pairs, and sometimes in small flocks. without ever being abundant the bird is quite common, and one can seldom approach a pool or marsh on the pampas without seeing one or more individuals wading near the margin, and hearing their powerful alarm cry--a long, clear note repeated three times. these summer visitors leave us in march, and then, oddly enough, others arrive, presumably from the south to winter on the pampas, and remain from april to august. thus, notwithstanding that the yellow-shanks does not breed on the pampas, we have it with us all the year 'round. dr. alexander wetmore (1926) saw it in paraguay as early as september 8 and in chile as late as april 26. he writes: after their arrival in september greater yellow-legs were distributed throughout the open pampa wherever shallow ponds offered suitable feeding places. occasionally 10 or 20 gathered in a flock, especially when northward migration was under way in march and april, but when on their wintering grounds it was usual to find two or three in company, seldom more. they are rather silent during the winter season but when the northward journey begins are as noisy as is their custom in the north. the species is large so that it is attractive to pot hunters and many are killed. i saw a number of crippled birds during the last two months of my stay in argentina and consider that it is these injured individuals, unable to perform the necessary flight, or without desire to do so from their injuries, that are recorded on the pampas from may to august when all should be in the northern hemisphere. reports of their breeding in argentina, based on the presence of these laggards in migration are wholly unauthenticated. i am inclined to think that most of the birds that remain in the south from april to september are one-year-old birds which are not ready to breed. distribution _range._--north and south america. _breeding range._--the breeding range of the greater yellow-legs extends north to alaska (bethel); british columbia (fort st. james); mackenzie (peel river); alberta (island lake); manitoba (kalcoala); labrador (whale river and hopedale); and newfoundland (gaff topsail). east to newfoundland (gaff topsail). south to newfoundland (gaff topsail); quebec (natashquan river, anticosti island, and near mt. laurier); probably formerly illinois (evanston); and british columbia (clinton). west to british columbia (clinton, fort george, and fort st. james). they also appear to occur in summer with more or less regularity north to alaska (st. paul island, bethel, and nome); keewatin (near cape eskimo); and franklin (cumberland sound); and nonbreeding specimens have at this season been noted south to the bahama islands (great abaco); florida (key west, sarasota bay, and ponce park); alabama (leighton); texas (amarillo, lipscomb, pecos, and corpus christi); and california (fresno, santa barbara, and nigger slough). _winter range._--north rarely to washington (dungeness spit); rarely arizona (fort verde and bill williams river); texas (tom green and concho counties, boerne, san antonio, and refugio county); louisiana (abbeville, avery island, and new orleans); and probably virginia (hog island). east probably to virginia (hog island and sandy island); probably north carolina (corolla and pea island); south carolina (ladys island and frogmore); georgia (blackbeard island, darien, and st. marys); florida (amelia island, daytona beach, miakka, and the florida keys); the bahama islands (andros, new providence, and inagua islands); probably porto rico; the lesser antilles (antigua, barbados, and grenada); french guiana (cayenne); brazil (para, cajetuba, iguape, pelotas, and rio grande do sul); uruguay (lazcano, san vicente, and colonia); and argentina (buenos aires, azul, carhue, and bahia blanca). south to argentina (bahia blanca); chile (straits of magellan, valparaiso, paposo, and antofagasta); peru (lake titicaca, tinta, and chorillos); ecuador (cuenca, canar, and quito); colombia (bogota, medellin, and cartagena); costa rica (san jose and puntarenas); guatemala (lake atitlan); jalisco (guadalajara); sinaloa (escuinapa); lower california (san jose del cabo, la paz, and san quintin); california (san diego, long beach, santa barbara, and the san joaquin valley); and rarely washington (dungeness spit). greater yellow-legs also have been reported as wintering on the coast of british columbia (macoun). _spring migration._--early dates of spring arrival are: maryland, patapsco marsh, march 26; pennsylvania, carlisle, march 19, and erie, march 28; new jersey, cape may, march 18, and camden, april 4; new york, jamaica, march 20, lowville, march 22, and montauk point, march 23; connecticut, west haven, march 25, and fairfield, april 9; massachusetts, taunton, april 4, and cambridge, april 15; maine, pittsfield, april 26; quebec, quebec, april 18, godbout, april 26, montreal, may 4, and lake mistassini, may 7; missouri, kansas city, march 2, corning, march 19, and jasper city, march 24; illinois, englewood, march 19, tampico, march 22, and lebanon, march 29; indiana, terre haute, march 19, indianapolis, march 22, and vincennes, march 30; ohio, waverly, march 14, and columbus, february 21; michigan, bay city, march 26, ann arbor, march 30, and hillsdale, march 31; ontario, ottawa, march 25, toronto, march 26, and blair, april 10; iowa, storm lake, march 20, la porte, march 21, and keokuk, march 26; wisconsin, delavan, march 30, madison, april 3, and milwaukee, april 10; minnesota, wilder, march 30, and waseca, april 10; oklahoma, caddo, march 11; kansas, manhattan, march 11, emporia, march 26, and wichita, april 6; nebraska, falls city, march 22, valentine, april 6, and lincoln, april 10; south dakota, sioux falls, march 27, and harrison, april 7; north dakota, bathgate, april 15, and grafton, april 19; manitoba, aweme, april 10, ossowo, april 15, and reaburn, april 16; saskatchewan, mclean, april 29, and indian head, may 3; mackenzie, fort simpson, may 16; colorado, barr, march 29, and colorado springs, april 10; utah, salt lake, april 7; wyoming, fort sanders, april 20, and yellowstone park, april 28; idaho, meridian, april 14, and rupert, april 20; montana, great falls, april 6, and helena, april 9; alberta, onoway, april 13, alliance, april 26, and carvel, april 30; and british columbia, chilliwack, march 28, and okanagan landing, march 23. late dates of spring departures are: argentina, tucuman, april 5; chile, concon, april 26; florida, daytona beach, april 10, bassenger, april 16, indian river, april 23, and pensacola, may 2; alabama, leighton, may 15; georgia, cumberland, april 17 and savannah, april 20; south carolina, chester, april 21, and ladys island, may 5; north carolina, lake ellis, may 18, cape hatteras, may 20, and raleigh, may 29; virginia, cobb island, may 19, wallops island, may 26, and cape charles, may 27; bermuda, june 5; district of columbia, washington, may 20; pennsylvania, erie, may 25, tinicum, may 26, and jeffersonville, may 27; new jersey, camden, may 25, mouth of pensauken creek, may 30, and elizabeth, june 9; new york, geneva, june 1, orient point, june 11, and gardiners island, june 18; connecticut, litchfield, june 9, fairfield, june 12, and hadlyme, june 15; massachusetts, marthas vineyard, june 14, and monomoy island, june 16; louisiana, new orleans, april 27; tennessee, nashville, may 24; illinois, addison, may 23, and la grange, may 25; indiana, richmond, may 20, and english lake, june 3; ohio, columbus, may 27, and berlin center, may 27; michigan, neebish island, may 20, and detroit, may 25; ontario, london, may 24, and toronto, june 9; iowa, sioux city, may 19, and keokuk, june 5; wisconsin, north freedom, may 24, and la crosse, june 4; minnesota, lake wilson, may 20, and madison, may 31; texas, brownsville, april 28, and point isabel, may 14; nebraska, peru, may 15, neligh, may 26, and whitman, june 1; south dakota, forestburg, may 21, and harrison, may 28; manitoba, reaburn, may 18, winnipeg, may 20, and whitewater lake, june 5; saskatchewan, mclean, may 18, south qu'appelle, may 27; arizona, fort verde, may 3; colorado, durango, may 11, barr, may 11; wyoming, laramie, may 29; montana, choteau, may 19, and terry, may 27; lower california, hardy river, april 15; california, santa barbara, may 16, los angeles, may 19, and buena park, may 22; oregon, cold spring bird reserve, may 12; and washington, clallam bay, may 24. _fall migration._--early dates of arrival in the fall are: washington, tacoma, july 4, and granville, july 7; oregon, malheur lake, july 1; california, fresno, july 5, santa barbara, july 18, and dunlap, july 30; montana, milk river, july 24; wyoming, laramie river, august 4, and yellowstone park, august 17; utah, utah lake, july 26; colorado, barr, june 27; arizona, fort verde, july 29; chihuahua, tachaco, july 30; saskatchewan, crane lake, june 22, and mclean, july 5; manitoba, franklin, july 17, margaret, july 30, and oak lake, august 4; south dakota, harding county, july 19, and forestburg, july 22; texas, corpus christi, july 3, and near amarillo, july 27; minnesota, hallock, july 19, and st. vincent, july 20; wisconsin, madison, july 29, and racine, july 30; iowa, sioux city, august 14, and winthrop, august 20; ontario, toronto, july 28; michigan, jackson, july 19, isle royale, august 1, sault ste. marie, august 7, and ann arbor, august 14; ohio, columbus, july 12, pelee island, july 24, and dayton, august 2; illinois, addison, july 19, chicago, july 23, and rantoul, july 26; louisiana, louisiana branch, august 16; maine, pittsfield, july 26; massachusetts, cape cod, july 11, and marthas vineyard, july 22; rhode island, block island, july 9; connecticut, milford, july 28; new york, montauk point, july 10, east hampton, july 16, and rochester, july 18; new jersey, barnegat bay, july 13, and five-mile beach, july 15; pennsylvania, erie, july 28; district of columbia, washington, july 24; north carolina, pea and bodie islands, july 22; south carolina, ladys island, july 21, and frogmore, august 8; alabama, leighton, july 22; and florida, ponce park, july 12, palma sola, august 2, and key west, august 20. the southern part of the winter range is reached early in september; paraguay, puerto pinasco, september 8. late dates of fall departure are: british columbia, comox, october 28, and chilliwack, november 21; nevada, washoe lake, november 6; alberta, fort chipewyan, october 9, and camrose, october 16; montana, great falls, october 20; idaho, meridian, november 12; wyoming, fort bridger, october 14, and medicine bow, october 24; colorado, denver, october 3, and barr, october 29; manitoba, margaret, october 20, oak lake, october 27, and aweme, november 5; north dakota, marstonmoor, october 27; south dakota, forestburg, october 22, and south dakota, forestburg, october 22, and sioux falls, october 29; nebraska, lincoln, november 14; kansas, emporia, october 12; minnesota, madison, october 22, st. vincent, october 25, and lanesboro, november 12; wisconsin, delavan, october 22, and north freedom, november 8; iowa, emmetsburg, october 22, and keokuk, november 9; ontario, ottawa, november 15, toronto, november 19, and port dover, november 20; michigan, ann arbor, october 22, sault ste. marie, november 5, and manchester, november 7; ohio, painesville, october 30, columbus, december 11, and youngstown, november 12; indiana, lafayette, october 21; illinois, addison, october 22, and la grange, october 28; missouri, independence, november 7; kentucky, bowling green, november 22; franklin, arctic island, cumberland sound, september 14; quebec, montreal, october 25; maine, skowhegan, october 24, and scarboro, november 5; massachusetts, dennis, november 1, monomoy island, november 12, and marthas vineyard, november 20; rhode island, newport, november 4; connecticut, fairfield, october 31, and portland, december 11; new york, orient, november 12, montauk point, november 20, and branchport, november 20; new jersey, elizabeth, october 30, and five-mile beach, november 7; pennsylvania, beaver, november 6; league island, november 9, and state college, november 14; maryland, back river, november 13; district of columbia, washington, november 2; and bermuda, november 10. _casual records._--the greater yellow-legs has been detected outside of the range above outlined on but one occasion, a specimen taken at tresco abbey, scilla islands, england, on september 16, 1906. _egg dates._--newfoundland and labrador: 9 records, june 9 to 20. british columbia: 2 records, may 20 and 21. totanus flavipes (gmelin) lesser yellow-legs habits the lesser or "summer" yellow-legs is a smaller edition of the greater or "winter" yellow-legs, and both are quite similar in behavior. the lesser is more abundant and less shy, hence rather better known. the seasonal names, applied to them by gunners, have been well chosen, as the lesser comes to us in summer and the greater lingers with us almost into winter. both have the exasperating telltale habit of arousing the neighborhood by their loud cries of alarm. _spring._--the lesser yellow-legs is a rare bird in new england in the spring. the main flight from south america passes through the west indies to the southern states and then northward through the mississippi valley to the breeding grounds in central canada. i have seen birds in florida as early as february 27; these may have been wintering birds, for the main flight there comes during the latter part of march. i have seen birds in texas as late as may 17. c. j. pennock's migration dates for delaware run from april 23 to may 29, where it is a regular spring migrant. long island marks about its northern limit on the atlantic coast in spring. it usually arrives in southern manitoba about the middle or last of april; a. g. lawrence sends me an unusually early record for whitewater lake, april 8, 1925. from the first to the middle of may it arrives on its breeding grounds in northern alberta and farther north, as far as the limit of trees. dr. joseph grinnell (1900) writes: this proved to be a common bird in the kowak valley. its arrival was noted in the vicinity of our winter camp on may 19, and from that day on its presence could hardly be overlooked, for as one approached their domains the yellow-legs would fly to meet him, uttering prolonged, monotonous cries. besides these notes of alarm the males had a full, melodious warble, sung for minutes at a time as they flew slowly about overhead. their favorite haunts appeared to be the meadows lying between strips of timber, especially if there was a shallow lake or pond in the vicinity. _nesting._--macfarlane recorded in his notes some 30 nests of this yellow-legs, found by him and his men in the wooded country about fort anderson and its vicinity from 1862 to 1866. he speaks of it as "a very noisy bird" that "will keep going before one, from tree to tree, for several hundred yards beyond its nest." one nest is described as "near a lake, a small hole in the ground, with a few decayed willow leaves underneath the eggs"; another nest was "about 150 yards from a lake, on a rising, thinly wooded piece of ground"; another was "on the face of a low hill, or rising ground, in the midst of a tuft of hay, or rather of a 'tãªte-de-femme,' made of a very few dead leaves in a depression"; others were "underneath or shaded by some stunted willows on the borders of a swampy tract, lined with a few withered grasses." j. fletcher street (1923) has published an interesting account of the nesting habits of this species in alberta, from which i quote as follows: as mr. thomson had told us we found the chosen nesting site of the yellow-legs to be on relatively high ground at an elevation from a few feet to a possible 30 feet or more above the level of the ponds. invariably the nests were found not closer than 100 feet from the water's edge and sometimes as far away as 200 yards. generally a sloping bank, a ridge or a level plateau was chosen for the immediate nesting site. no nests were noted in the heavily forested area; all of those secured in the region about belvedere being found among broken hills covered with burnt and fallen timber with a second growth largely of low poplars, the burnt stubs affording excellent perches for the birds. therefore the assumption would be that amid normal conditions the species would select rather open and high woodlands with sparse, low undergrowth within a reasonable distance of marshy or grassy ponds. it is not until the full clutch of eggs is laid that the birds show that degree of concern which leads to their undoing. then there is great excitement on the nesting grounds. the female bird will fly about with drooping legs and tail, keeping up an incessant _kip, kip_, and alighting upon near-by stubs. in this the male will join her, but not to the same degree, frequently, after the initial rally, flying away to the lake. his darker breast markings and slightly larger size readily identify him. if the observer retires and conceals himself the excitement of the female will gradually subside, she will fly from stub to stub, at length become silent, look about inquiringly and take a short flight to the ground and run to the nest. after settling she may be approached within 4 feet before flushing which she does with a loud call of alarm. while on the nest she sits low and close. the nest is a mere depression in the ground, lined with a few leaves or a small amount of dry grass, the cup having a diameter of 3.5 to 4 inches and a depth of 1.25 to 1.50 inches. it may be located next to a stub, along a prostrate log or in the open. richard c. harlow, who collected with mr. street in the same region, tells me that this bird will sometimes scratch out several hollows within a radius of 50 or 75 yards and line some of them with dry aspen leaves before laying in the one selected. three of the nests found by mr. harlow were close to or between fallen burnt logs and one was in a bushy situation in a clearing near the edge of some woods. the nests were lined with dry leaves of poplar and aspen and a few dry grasses. one set that he collected for me was at the base of a small bush on dry barrens, half a mile from water. richard h. rauch in the same general locality found a nest in what he calls an unusual location, 10 yards from the margin of a small lake in a very wet muskeg; the nest was a depression in the moss, lined with a few dry birch leaves. _eggs._--the yellow-legs lays four eggs, occasionally only three. these are ovate pyriform in shape and have a slight gloss. the ground colors usually vary from "olive-buff" to "cream-buff" and rarely from "honey yellow" to "cartridge buff," or from "light pinkish cinnamon" to "pinkish buff." the more richly colored eggs are often boldly and handsomely marked. some are quite evenly covered with small blotches and spots; others also have large, irregular blotches and splashes, chiefly about the larger end and often with a spiral trend. these markings are in dark rich browns, "chocolate," "liver brown," "bay," and "chestnut brown," sometimes deepening almost to black, where the pigment is thickest. many large underlying blotches and spots of various shades of "purple-drab" and "ecru-drab" are conspicuous and add to the beauty of the eggs. there is an albino egg in the national collection, creamy white with only a few small pale brown spots. the measurements of 51 eggs average 42 by 28.9 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =45= by 30, 42 by =30.5=, =39.5= by 29.5, and 41 by =27.5= millimeters. _young._--incubation is shared by both sexes, but we have no information as to its duration. macfarlane found a pair of yellow-legs with three recently hatched young "in a small watery swamp," where the young were able to conceal themselves in the short grass. mr. street (1923) says: young were found for the first time on june 4. both male and female at this time were highly excited, the female approaching within 10 feet of us. all the young had left the nest and had taken refuge in the shade of a log to escape the burning rays of the sun. no eggshells were found in the nest or near by. as we retired from the immediate locality the female flew down to the ground and softly "kipped" as if to rally the scattered young. on the succeeding day a nest was found which at 10 a. m. contained one young and two eggs. at 12.30 p. m. all the birds had hatched and had left the nest, being found quite a distance away. one bird was walking, readily indicating that the migration to the water must start within a few hours of the time that the young are out of the eggs. after june 6 all the same excitement that characterized the action of the adult birds at the nesting site was transplanted to the meadow lands. one uninitiated in the ways of the species might easily suppose that he was now upon the breeding grounds, for the young keep well concealed and are difficult to discover. perhaps the exhibition of the adults at this time and the secretive habits of the birds during the early days of the mating have tended to keep the nesting habits of the lesser yellow-legs so long a mystery. _plumages._--in natal down the young yellow-legs is "pinkish buff" on the back, shading off to "cartridge buff" on the crown, to paler buff on the forehead and sides of the head and to pure white on the under parts; there is an indistinct frontal black stripe; the crown is heavily mottled with brownish black; a black stripe extends from the bill through the eye to the nape; and there are three broad bands on the center and sides of the back and large patches on the rump and thighs of brownish black. young birds develop rapidly, the juvenal plumage coming in first on the sides of the breast, scapulars, and wings. a young bird, taken july 10, is nearly fully grown; the crown and neck fully feathered, the breast nearly so, and the wings and tail nearly grown. in this fresh juvenal plumage the feathers of the crown are tipped with whitish, and those of the back, scapulars, and wing coverts are edged, tipped, or notched with pale buff to white. subsequent molts and plumages are similar to and very much like those of the greater yellow-legs. i have seen a number of birds in what i call the first nuptial plumage migrating northward; they may breed in this plumage. i have seen several adults molting their primaries in january and february. _food._--the favorite feeding grounds of the yellow-legs are on flat marshes near the coast, where the grass is short and where the high course of tides or heavy rains leave the marshes partially covered, or dotted, with shallow pools or splashes; away from the coast it is equally at home in wet, short-grass marshes, mud flats, shallow ponds and even wet places in cultivated fields. in such places it walks about in an active manner, usually in shallow water, but often up to the full length of its long legs, gleaning most of its food from the surface of the water or mud and seldom probing for it. during one season on monomoy large numbers of yellow-legs frequented the drier parts of the meadows where the long grass had been beaten down flat by the storms of the previous winter. these places seemed to hold some strong attraction for them, for they repeatedly returned after being driven off. while we remained partially concealed in some clumps of tall grass, they frequently alighted near us and ran nimbly about over the flattened grass, darting rapidly in various directions to pick up food. the grass was full of minute grasshoppers and other small insects on which they were feeding. evidently this food was unusually abundant that season, for i have never seen them there in any numbers since 1921. arthur h. howell (1924) says that, in alabama, "this bird feeds mainly on insects, including ants, bugs, flies, and grasshoppers, and on small crustaceans, small fishes and worms." dr. alexander wetmore (1916) reporting on the food of four birds, taken in porto rico, says that "water boatmen found in each of the four make 57.5 per cent, and two stomachs contained nothing else. crustacean remains, among which were several crabs, were identified in two stomachs, and make the remainder, 42.5 per cent." the contents of nine stomachs taken by stuart t. danforth (1925) in porto rico were examined: dytiscid larvae formed 26.6 per cent of the animal matter, and hydrophilid larvae, 1.8 per cent; bloodworms, 5.1 per cent; planorbia snails, 5 per cent; fleabeetles 1.1 per cent; hydrophilid adults, 3.1 per cent; dytiscid adult, 0.7 per cent; grasshoppers, 0.22 per cent; bupestrid beetle, 0.55 per cent; lycosid spider, 0.55 per cent; notonectidae, 1 per cent; fish scales, 0.33 per cent; carabid beetle (stenous sp.), 0.55 per cent; and other beetles, 3.2 per cent. _behavior._--either in flight or on the ground the two yellow-legs are so much alike that one is often mistaken for the other, unless a direct comparison in size can be made. william brewster (1925) has expressed it very well, as follows: the summer yellow-legs seems an exact counterpart of the winter in respect to general appearance and behavior. it has the same firm, measured step, when walking about in quest of food; the same perfection of form and outlines, and grace of position, when standing erect and watchful; the same habit of tilting its body and alternately lengthening and shortening its neck with a bobbing motion, when suspicious of danger and about to take wing. its flight, also, is essentially similar to that of its big cousin, but somewhat slower and more buoyant, and hence not so suggestive of momentum as that of the larger, heavier-bodied bird. the lesser yellow-legs is more universally common than the greater and more apt to associate with other species of small waders, where it towers above them, as it stalks gracefully about on its long legs. it is more apt to be seen in large flocks, though the flocks are seldom compact and are usually much scattered, especially when feeding. and it is much less shy; although usually rather watchful and wary, not easily approached by a moving object, it is often surprisingly tame. if the observer is sitting down and motionless, even in plain sight, the birds will often fly back and forth over him or even alight on the ground near him. i have often seen yellow-legs bathing, but aretas a. saunders (1926) describes it better than i can, as follows: to do this a bird would go to the deeper, clearer water forming the mid-channel of the pond, the same spot where the black ducks bathed earlier in the morning. there it would sit down in the water, remaining still for a time. then it would splash water over its back and wings, duck its head, and sit still again. when sitting thus in the water its tail was usually half spread, and resting on or just under the water surface. when the bath was over the bird would stand up, stretch its wings and then preen, taking care to go over carefully all the feathers of the back, wing, and breast and scratching with its toes those portions it could not reach with the bill. he observed them fighting also and says: why they should fight at this season of the year, when the mating season was over and the food supply seemed abundant enough for all comers, is not easily explained. yet it was a common thing to see two birds stand facing each other with heads and necks up, and bills tilted at an angle a little above the horizontal. after eyeing each other a short time, one would dart at the other, apparently trying to get its bill above its opponent's and strike at the latter's eyes. the second bird would dodge back and then return the attempted blow. they never actually struck each other, and after several such tiffs one bird would crouch down in front of the other, the yellow-legs' way of surrendering, and the other bird would stalk off and pick a fight with some other that had been peacefully feeding. sometimes the fight varied from this form and the birds lowered their heads at the beginning like roosters and then fluttered up into the air as they went at each other. the well-known bobbing habit is well described in some notes sent to me by francis h. allen, as follows: watched one on a slough for about an hour. method of bobbing was to raise the head by stretching the neck and at the same time lower the tail, the whole body being held rigid, then lower the head with the bill pointing somewhat downward and raise the tail to normal. the body seems to turn on a pivot, but the lengthening of the neck is an independent movement. _voice._--john t. nichols has sent me some very elaborate notes on the varied calls of the yellow-legs, from which i quote as follows: when on the ground in flocks the lesser yellow-legs is usually silent. the same is true frequently of single birds coming in. in the air it is more or less noisy and has two common, distinct notes--_wheu_ and _kip_ or _keup_, which seem to be used rather indiscriminately on various occasions and which vary into one another. wandering singles and small companies seem to use the _wheu_ more, often double. the combination _wheu hip_ is frequent. from large companies, especially in uncertainty, one may hear a chorus of _kips_. (1) the yodle probably corresponds in significance with that of the greater yellow-legs--_location_. it is certainly its homolog and scarcely, if at all, distinguishable from it. when a flock of a half dozen lesser yellow-legs came to decoys, one bird alighted first, had a low-pitched, unfamiliar _too-dle-hoo-hoo, too-dle-hoo-hoo, too-dle-hoo-hoo_, before the others, still on the wing, came back and alighted with it. though probably of similar derivation, this note was quite different from the yodle of the species, and is probably more of a gather call (long island, august). (2) the _wheu_ is a regular _flight note_, likely advertisement. generally silent birds alighted, sometimes call an occasional single _wheu_ (at such times particularly soft and mellow) before others drop in to join them, as if in welcome. when double this note of the lesser yellow-legs is at times clear and full, difficult to differentiate from that of the larger species, and apparently likewise characteristic of a "gentle" bird, which will join decoys or others alighted. (5) whereas the _wheu_ note of the lesser yellow-legs is most frequently single and very seldom more than double, i have heard a variation of it in series from one of an alighted flock (mastic, july 13, 1919), _hyu-hyu-hyu-hyu-hyu_, etc. presumably this was in protest at my presence, corresponding to the similar note of the larger species. (6) soft, unloud murmuring of a flock in chorus, _yu yu yu_, etc., characteristically heard, as on august 10, 1919, from a flock moving leisurely over the meadows, after having been flushed, to shortly alight again, expressive of _companionship_ and confidence. (7) when dropping down to alight, often hovering over decoys, a flock of lesser yellow-legs has soft short _cup, cup, cup_, etc., notes. (8) at the instant of flushing almost the identical notes as above given hurriedly with more emphasis. this for the lesser yellow-legs is a rough analog of the cheeping note of the pectoral sandpiper, but in view of the different habits of the two species, can not be said to be strictly analogous with same. (10) an unloud chuckle or series of short notes suggesting a very distant jack curlew, heard sometimes, not very frequently, when one or more birds take wing. should probably be considered a flushing note or signal to take wing. seems like the attempt of one individual to reproduce the preceding, which is often from several birds of a flock. (11) the _kip_ is likely one bird calling to another close-by. it is typically a _flocking_ note, otherwise used almost exactly as is note no. 2. a variation, _keup_, with broader sound, approaching the _wheu_, expressing _attention_, is frequent. it has been heard from a flock of birds which had been resting and bathing, just before taking wing (mastic, september 15, 1918). (12) an infrequent note of quite different character from the lesser yellow-legs' ordinary calls is very high and clear, _queep_. it is subject to much variation, as _peep-quip, eep_! but is characterized by the high _ee_ sound. it has been heard from birds alighted, more particularly when their companions, alarmed or for some other reason, move on, and is thought of as the _tarrying individual's_ note. on august 17, 1919, i had picked up decoys preparatory to leaving a pool in the meadows when a single lesser yellow-legs came down to the pool calling a similar _kee-a_ on the wing, though i was in full view. it went on without alighting with _wheu_ notes characteristic of the species. probably this was an individual which wanted to stay, from a small company which had left the meadow. (13) wounded birds, on being pursued and captured, have a harsh scream of fear, _chee-rp_. i have noticed this from birds of the year in southward migration only, not from adults under the same circumstances. the above numbers indicate notes analogous with those of the greater yellow-legs, similarly numbered. where the lesser has no notes analogous with certain notes of the greater, these numbers are omitted. _field marks._--there is no conspicuous character, except size, by which the lesser yellow-legs can be distinguished in life from the greater, unless one is expert enough to recognize the notes, which are varied and variable in both species. from nearly all other species it can be distinguished by its slender, shapely head and neck and by its long, conspicuously yellow legs. its light, almost white, tail and rump contrast conspicuously with its uniformly dark back and wings; adults in worn nuptial plumage appear almost black on the upper parts; and there is no conspicuous white mark in the wings. the lesser yellow-legs is most likely to be confused with the long-legged stilt sandpiper in immature plumage; but the latter is somewhat smaller and has olive-colored legs instead of yellow. adult stilt sandpipers, before they have entirely lost the barred under parts, can be recognized by these marks and by other characters described under that species. _fall._--adult summer yellow-legs in worn nuptial plumage reach new england in july, thus deserving the name. my earliest date is july 11, but they are often abundant before the end of that month. the young birds appear about a month later; the loose flocks are made up of both ages in august; the adults usually depart before the end of august, and few young birds are left after the middle of september. mr. nichols says in his notes: it has frequently been remarked by old shore-bird gunners on long island that the lesser yellow-legs and other species of shore birds in southward migration are abundant early in the season, and then after a period of comparative scarcity become again more numerous. the explanation most commonly advanced for this condition is two flights, first the old, then the young birds. it is unquestionable that the first birds to come south are adults, but beyond that fact this hypothesis will not hold. the fluctuation in numbers of the shore birds on long island during the fall migration period may best be explained by supposing that the bulk of each species has a more or less definite late-summer range to which it travels from the breeding grounds and where, if conditions are favorable, it remains until autumn. before the main flight, birds of each species are mostly adults, during it, mixed adults and young. to explain double abundance of most species in southward migration by first the passage of adults, then that of young, is pretty surely erroneous. where such double abundance does occur it is probably first birds passing through, second birds stopping to feed. there are not infrequent records of southbound lesser yellow-legs on long island the end of june (june 24, 1922, my earliest at mastic), and i have seen a flock of 40 or 50 by july 10; july 31 is the earliest mention i chance to find in my notes of a bird of the year. there is probably a considerable and regular migration at sea for capt. savile g. reid (1884) says that in bermuda this is "the most conspicuous and noisy of the august arrivals. it has been seen as early as july 13, but usually disappears toward the end of september. considerable numbers fall victims to the gun, as they are not bad eating." c. j. pennock has noted it in delaware as late as october 12, and has seen it in florida as early as september 16. it is an abundant migrant in the interior. edward s. thomas tells me that in ohio the average fall migration dates are between august 3 and october 16; he has a very late record of a specimen collected on november 29, 1923. from the prairie provinces of canada the main flight departs in august, but a. g. lawrence gives me september 29, 1923, as his latest date. j. a. munro tells me that it is "an abundant autumn migrant" at okanagan landing, british columbia; his dates run from july 9 to september 1. this species seems to be a rare migrant on the coasts of washington and california. _game._--the summer yellow-legs has always been a popular game bird and has always been counted in the class of "big birds." it is still fairly abundant, but occurs in nothing like its former numbers. giraud (1844) was informed by a noted gunner "that he killed 106 yellow-shanks by discharging both barrels of his gun into a flock while they were sitting along the beach." no such flocks occur to-day. however, they are not all gone, for stuart t. danforth (1925) says that at cartagena lagoon, porto rico, they occur in flocks of from 2 to 100. they reach their greatest abundance early in october. on october 7 and 11, 1924, i observed over 1,000, and on other days shortly before and after these dates from 500 to 800. usually there are not over 100 present at once. they feed in the shallow open water, on the mud flats, and among the flooded grasses and sedges. they often associate with other sandpipers, especially the greater yellow-legs, stilt, and semipalmated sandpipers. they are surprisingly tame while in porto rico, and it is slaughter, not sport, to shoot them. sometimes the flocks are so densely packed that hunters kill as many as 20 at a single shot. i have never felt that the summer yellow-legs should be in the game-bird class, though i must confess that it has some gamey qualities. it is, at times, absurdly tame; it decoys very easily, returns again and again to the slaughter, and its little body is so small that many lives must be sacrificed to make a decent bag. however, it _is_ interesting sport to sit in a well-made blind on a marsh, with decoys skillfully arranged, and show one's skill in whistling up these lively and responsive little birds. after all, gunning is not so much a means of filling up the larder as an excuse for getting out to enjoy the beauties of nature and the ways of its wild creatures. mr. nichols explains how it is done on long island, where this species has for many years furnished most of the shooting; he writes: to the long island gunner the yellow-legs and its associates are known as "bay snipe." various customs relating to their pursuit for sport (sniping) have arisen in the course of the generations that it has been in vogue. imitation wooden birds ("stool") are set out as decoys in the marshes over which the birds may be expected to pass, and the gunner stations himself within range behind a blind usually constructed of bushes. there is opportunity for considerable skill in setting out the decoys, placing and constructing the blind, imitating the cries of the various species to draw them within range. where possible the decoys are placed so as to be seen from every direction against a surface of water; if in a small pool scattered about, if in a larger water area, directly off some projecting point so as not to be blanketed by the land. the larger the show of decoys, the larger the flocks of birds that will be tempted to respond to them, and one attempts to scatter them so that each will stand apart, no three which are close together will be in line. they all face more or less directly into the wind as would alighted birds. ideally the blind is placed to windward of the rig of decoys. approaching birds maneuver toward it from down wind, and are so less likely to notice the gunner and take alarm before coming within range. _winter._--although a few lesser yellow-legs may spend the winter occasionally as far north as louisiana and florida, the main winter home is in southern south america and very few are to be found regularly north of that continent. a. h. holland (1892) records it as fairly common throughout the year in argentina but more numerous from october to february. dr. alexander wetmore (1926), referring to the same general region, writes: the lesser yellow-legs was widespread in distribution after october and was more abundant on the whole than _totanus melanoleucus_. the birds frequented the shores of open lagoons, shallow pools, or coastal mud flats, and though found distributed singly or two or three together it was not unusual to encounter them in larger bands that might contain 100 individuals. on their wintering grounds they were rather silent, but with the opening of northward migration resumed their habit of uttering musical though noisy calls when disturbed in any manner. on the pampas they congregated during drier seasons about lagoons and flocks often sought refuge from the violent winds that swept the open plains behind scant screens of rushes. after any general rain these flocks dispersed to pools of rain water in the pastures, where insect food was easily available. the winter population was thus not stationary, but shifted constantly with changes in the weather. by the first of march the lesser yellow-legs had begun their northward movement and numbers were found near guamini, where they paused to rest after a northward flight from patagonia. in their case, as in that of other migrant species from north america, it was instructive to note that the migration southward came in september and october when the birds traveled southward with the unfolding of the southern spring and that the return northward was initiated by the approach of rigorous weather in faraway patagonia. migrant flocks, many of whose members offered sad evidence of inhospitable treatment at the hands of argentine gunners in the shape of broken or missing legs, were noted on the plains of mendoza, near the base of the andes, in march. and during early april the migration became a veritable rush so that on the night of april 5, at tucuman, the air was filled with the cries of these and other waders in steady flight northward above the city. distribution _range._--north and south america. _breeding range._--the yellow-legs breeds north to alaska (kowak river and fort yukon); mackenzie (fort anderson, rendezvous lake, and horton river); and ungava (fort george and whale river). east to ungava (whale river); and formerly new york (phelps). south to formerly new york (phelps); formerly indiana (lake county); formerly illinois (near chicago); wisconsin (lake koshkonong); and central alberta (belvedere). west probably to northern british columbia (bennett and telegraph creek); yukon (lake marsh); and alaska (eagle and kowak river). nonbreeding individuals are frequently observed in summer south of the breeding range: nebraska (lincoln); colorado (barr, loveland, and las animas); wyoming (albany county); montana (fort keogh, and terry); and oregon (corvallis and malheur lake). _winter range._--north to sinaloa (mazatlan); the coast of texas (fort brown and refugio county); louisiana (state game preserve); and florida (pensacola, goose creek, and wilson). east to florida (wilson, and royal palm hammock); jamaica; the bahama islands; porto rico; rarely the lesser antilles (barbuda and carriacou); british guiana (bartica grove, camacusa, and altagracia); french guiana (cayenne); brazil (mapa, mexiana, marajo, cantagallo, and novo fribourgo); uruguay (lazcano and san vicente); and argentina (buenos aires, azul, and the chubut valley). south to argentina (chubut valley); and chile (gregory bay, straits of magellan, santiago, and valparaiso). west to chile (valparaiso, puerto del huasco, atacama, and tarapaca); peru (chorillos, junin, and cajabamba); ecuador (canar, babahoyo, and quito); colombia (medellin and cartagena); probably panama (culebra); costa rica (la estrella de cartago); probably nicaragua (escondido river); jalisco (la barca); and sinaloa (mazatlan). _spring migration._--early dates of spring arrival are: georgia, cumberland, march 12; south carolina, charleston, march 5, and frogmore, march 20; north carolina, corolla, march 15, and atlantic, march 19; district of columbia, washington, march 12; maryland, havre de grace, march 15; bermuda, april 26; pennsylvania, state college, april 1; new jersey, cape may court house, april 1, and morristown, april 6; new york, branchport, march 26, and roslyn, april 3; connecticut, hartford, april 19; massachusetts, taunton, april 4, and monomoy island, april 29; vermont, hartford, april 28; maine, pittsfield, april 26, and saco, may 1; quebec, montreal, april 30, and godbout, may 5; new brunswick, scotch lake, may 2; nova scotia, kentville, april 21; mississippi, bay st. louis, march 13; kentucky, bowling green, march 27; missouri, marionville, march 14, corning, march 15, and independence, march 25; illinois, lebanon, march 29, and rantoul, march 31; indiana, bicknell, march 30, greencastle, april 1, and terre haute, april 8; ohio, sandusky, march 18, and oberlin, march 30; michigan, hillsdale, march 31, ann arbor, april 9, and detroit, april 11; ontario, oshawa, april 19, ottawa, april 25, and reaboro, april 30; iowa, sioux city, march 11, and iowa city, march 30; wisconsin, fox lake, april 3, new london, april 7, and milwaukee, april 8; minnesota, jackson, march 18, heron lake, march 24, and lanesboro, april 7; central and northern texas, san antonio, march 20, dallas, march 22, bonham, march 23, and electra, march 24; oklahoma, caddo, march 11, and copan, march 28; kansas, leroy, march 12, and manhattan, march 23; nebraska, falls city, march 23, callaway, march 26, and lincoln, march 27; south dakota, forestburg, april 1, harrison, april 13, sioux falls, april 16; north dakota, westhope, april 10, and charlson, april 18; manitoba, greenridge, april 7, reaburn, april 13, and margaret, april 15; saskatchewan, qu'appelle, april 9, lake johnston, april 16, and eastend, april 17; mackenzie, hay river, may 2, fort resolution, may 5, fort simpson, may 9, and fort reliance, may 13; new mexico, glenrio, april 15; colorado, durango, april 5, denver, april 19, and salida, april 25; wyoming, lake como, may 5; montana, terry, may 6, and choteau, may 8; alberta, onoway, april 13, edmonton, april 17, stony plain, april 22, and athabaska landing, may 17; california, fresno, april 10, and santa barbara, april 24; oregon, gaston, march 7, malheur lake, march 8, and klamath lake, march 31; washington, menlo, april 27; british columbia, okanagan landing, march 23, and courtenay, april 16; and alaska, nulato, april 29, and chilcot river, may 12. late dates of spring departure are: argentina, tafi viejo, april 15; chile, concepcion, april 14; florida, bradentown, may 1, and pensacola, may 25; georgia, savannah, may 28; south carolina, charleston, may 26; north carolina, lake ellis, may 10, raleigh, may 18, and cape hatteras, may 20; virginia, chesapeake bay, may 12, and hog island, may 16; district of columbia, washington, may 17; maryland, patapsco, may 17; pennsylvania, state college, may 17, doylestown, may 20, and limerick, may 22; new jersey, hackettstown, may 16, and morristown, may 19; new york, amagansett, may 25, rockaway, june 1, and locust grove, june 7; connecticut, norwalk, may 22; massachusetts, boston, may 20, and woods hole, may 24; vermont, wells river, june 3; maine, winthrop, june 1; louisiana, vermilion bay, april 27; mississippi, bay st. louis, may 10; arkansas, stuttgart, may 14; illinois, chicago, may 15, de kalb, may 23, and rantoul, may 26; indiana, terre haute, may 12, hobart, may 13, and bicknell, may 18; ohio, painesville, may 26, columbus, may 28, and oberlin, may 30; michigan, manistee, may 20; ontario, modoc, may 28, and ottawa, may 31; iowa, waterloo, may 30, forest city, may 31, and sioux city, june 4; wisconsin, new richmond, may 15, la crosse, may 21, and madison, may 27; minnesota, clarissa, may 23, and jackson, may 27; texas, dallas, may 20, brownsville, may 24, and huntsville, may 28; oklahoma, copan, may 19; kansas, ellis, may 18, and wichita, may 20; nebraska, long pine, may 16, badger, may 19, and lincoln, may 20; south dakota, vermilion, may 28, harrison, may 29, and sioux falls, june 11; north dakota, charlson, may 17, bismarck, may 18, and harrisburg, june 11; manitoba, aweme, may 20, margaret, june 1, and whitewater lake, june 10; saskatchewan, indian head, may 28, touchwood hills, may 30, and south qu'appelle, june 1; new mexico, glenrio, may 16; colorado, barr, may 17, and boulder, may 20; wyoming, laramie river, june 1; montana, choteau, may 26, corvallis, may 31, and terry, june 12; california, fresno, may 12; oregon, lawen, may 10, and klamath lake, may 18; and british columbia, mirror lake, may 30. _fall migration._--early dates of fall arrival are: british columbia, okanagan landing, july 9, and atlin, july 12; washington, tacoma, july 7, ozette island, july 11, and the olympiades, july 12; oregon, malheur lake, july 1, and corvallis, july 10; california, goleta, august 11, and santa barbara, august 16; montana, milk river, july 25, and billings, july 31; wyoming, camp carling, july 28; colorado, barr, july 5, boulder, july 9, and sterling, july 22; arizona, san bernardino ranch, august 2; new mexico, guadalupe mountains, august 7, and state college, august 10; saskatchewan, quill lake, july 5, and kiddleston, july 7; manitoba, margaret, july 4, oak lake, july 12, and shoal lake, july 13; south dakota, forestburg, july 1, and pine ridge reservation, july 12; nebraska, valentine, july 11, and lincoln, july 14; oklahoma, copan, august 7; minnesota, hallock, july 6, and st. vincent, july 23; wisconsin, madison, july 22, and north freedom, july 28; iowa, winnebago, july 27, sioux city, august 3, and wall lake, august 4; ontario, lac seul, july 5, port dover, july 17, and toronto, july 18; michigan, jackson, july 17; ohio, cedar point, july 5, bay point, july 11, and youngstown, july 27; indiana, hobart, july 9; illinois, chicago, july 2, la grange, july 4, and addison, july 19; mississippi, biloxi, july 12, and bay st. louis, july 13; nova scotia, wolfville, july 27; maine, pittsfield, july 26; vermont, rutland, july 27; massachusetts, chatham, july 4, harvard, july 13, and cape cod, july 15; connecticut, north haven, july 21; new york, mastic, june 24, east hampton, july 8, and geneva, july 16; new jersey, parkerton, july 1, cape may, july 4, and long beach, july 9; maryland, ocean city, july 20; bermuda, july 13; virginia, wallops island, july 26; north carolina, currituck sound, july 5, and pea and bodie islands, july 8; south carolina, charleston, july 15; florida, ponce park, july 12, key west, july 16, and pensacola, july 18; the lesser antilles, barbados, july 4, grenada, july 10, and st. croix, july 26; and argentina, las palmas, july 31. late dates of fall departure are: alaska, st. george island, october 18; oregon, klamath lake, november 17; california, redwood city, november 28; alberta, dorenlee, october 3, and nanton, october 5; montana, choteau, september 4; colorado, boulder, september 28, and denver, october 3; saskatchewan, south qu'appelle, october 16; manitoba, margaret, october 12, oak lake, october 13, and reaburn, october 17; north dakota, harrisburg, october 26; south dakota, forestburg, october 25, and fort sisseton, october 28; nebraska, falls city, november 15, and lincoln, november 17; minnesota, st. vincent, october 1, and lanesboro, october 11; wisconsin, north freedom, october 6, madison, october 7, and meridian, november 1; iowa, gilbert station, october 22, marshalltown, november 1, and emmetsburg, november 1; ontario, london, october 14, and ottawa, october 18; michigan, sault ste. marie, october 20, ann arbor, october 21, and lansing, october 28; ohio, youngstown, october 27, sandusky, november 4, and columbus, november 29; indiana, indianapolis, october 23; illinois, de kalb, october 10, rantoul, october 30, and aledo, november 3; missouri, kansas city, november 23; nova scotia, pictou, october 8; new brunswick, scotch lake, october 28; quebec, montreal, october 7, and koksoak river, october 8; maine, kennebec county, october 15, and pittsfield, october 20; massachusetts, taunton, october 20, and monomoy, november 11; new york, orient, october 18, branchport, october 21, and ithaca, november 10; new jersey, sandy hook, october 25; pennsylvania, state college, october 28, and waynesburg, november 2; maryland, cambridge, october 25; district of columbia, anacostia, november 1; virginia, hog island, november 12; and south carolina, charleston, november 3. _casual records._--the yellow-legs has been recorded from the pribilof islands (st. paul island, june 11, 1890); and three times from england (nottinghamshire, about 1854, cornwall, september, 1871, and fair isle, shetland islands, september, 1910). moschler (1856) reported that in 1854 he received a specimen from greenland. _egg dates._--alberta and manitoba: 38 records, may 15 to june 16; 19 records, may 27 to june 4. arctic canada: 28 records, june 2 to july 1; 14 records, june 20 to 27. labrador peninsula: 7 records, june 3 to july 2. references to bibliography references to bibliography abbott, gerard alan. 1919--the lure of the godwit. the wilson bulletin, vol. 31, pp. 97-99. aiken, charles edward howard, and warren, edward royal. 1914--the birds of el paso county, colorado. allen, arthur augustus. 1913--stilt sandpipers (_micropalama himantopus_) at ithaca, n. y. the auk, vol. 30, pp. 430-432. allen, joel asaph. 1905--report on the birds collected in northeastern siberia by the jesup north pacific expedition. bulletin of the american museum of natural history, vol. 21, p. 219. anthony, alfred webster. 1922--the sharp-tailed sandpiper in southern california. the auk, vol. 39, p. 106. audubon, john james. 1840--the birds of america, 1840-44. bahr, philip heinrich. 1907--some observations on the breeding habits of the red-necked phalarope. british birds, vol. 1, pp. 202-207. bailey, alfred m. 1925-6--a report on the birds of northwestern alaska and regions adjacent to bering strait. part vi. the condor, vol. 27, pp. 232-238. bailey, florence merriam. 1916--a populous shore. the condor, vol. 18, pp. 100-110. bartsch, paul. 1899--a piscivorous yellow-leg. the wilson bulletin, no. 24, p. 8. best, mary gertrude s., and haviland, maud d. 1914--notes on the red-necked phalarope in the outer hebrides. british birds, vol. 8, pp. 9-12. bishop, louis bennett. 1900--birds of the yukon region. north american fauna, no. 19. 1901--the winter birds of pea island, north carolina. the auk, vol. 18, pp. 260-268. bond, j. walpole. 1923--concerning the greenshank. british birds, vol. 16, pp. 208-213. boraston, john maclair. 1903--birds by land and sea. bowdish, beecher scoville. 1902--birds of porto rico. the auk, vol. 19, pp. 356-366. bowles, john hooper. 1918--the limicolae of the state of washington. the auk, vol. 35, pp. 326-333. bretherton, bernard j. 1896--kadiak island. a contribution to the avifauna of alaska. the oregon naturalist, vol. 3, pp. 45-49; 61-64; 77-79; 100-102. brewer, thomas mayo. 1878--changes in our north american fauna. bulletin of the nuttall ornithological club, vol. 3, pp. 49-52. brewster, william. 1883--notes on the birds observed during a summer cruise in the gulf of st. lawrence. proc. bost. soc. of nat. hist., vol. 22, p. 364. 1894--notes and song-flight of the woodcock (_philohela minor_). the auk, vol. 11, pp. 291-298. 1906--the birds of the cambridge region of massachusetts. memoirs of the nuttall ornithological club, no. 4. 1925--the birds of the lake umbagog region of maine. bulletin of the museum of comparative zoology at harvard college, vol. 66, part 2. brooks, winthrop sprague. 1915--notes on birds from east siberia and arctic alaska. bulletin of the museum of comparative zoology at harvard college. brown, william james. 1912--additional notes on the birds of newfoundland. the ottawa naturalist, vol. 26, pp. 93-98. burtch, verdi. 1925--some notes on the birds of the branchport, n. y. region, 1923. the auk, vol. 42, pp. 554-557. buturlin, sergius aleksandrovich. 1907--on the breeding habits of the rosy gull and the pectoral sandpiper. the ibis, 1907, pp. 570-573. cahoon, john cyrus. 1888--the shore birds of cape cod. ornithologist and oologist, vol. 13, pp. 121-124, 129-132, 153-156. cameron, ewen somerled. 1907--the birds of custer and dawson counties, montana. the auk, vol. 24, pp. 241-270. chapman, abel. 1924--the borders and beyond. chapman, frank michler. 1891--on the birds observed near corpus christi, texas, during parts of march and april, 1891. bulletin of the american museum of natural history, vol. 3, pp. 315-328. 1908--camps and cruises of an ornithologist. 1926--the distribution of bird life in ecuador. chislett, ralph. 1927--notes on the breeding of the jack snipe. british birds, vol. 21, pp. 2-6. clark, austin hobart. 1905--birds of the southern lesser antilles. proc. boston society natural history, vol. 32, pp. 203-312. cooke, wells woodbridge. 1912--distribution and migration of north american shore birds. u. s. dept. agriculture, biological survey, bulletin no. 35, revised. 1914--our shore birds and their future. yearbook of department of agriculture for 1914, pp. 275-294. coues, elliott. 1861--notes on the ornithology of labrador. proceedings of the philadelphia academy of natural sciences, 1861, pp. 215-257. 1874--birds of the northwest. 1878--field notes on birds observed in dakota and montana along the forty-ninth parallel during the seasons of 1873-1874. bulletin united states geological survey, no. 4, pp. 545-661. 1897--status of the redshank as a north american bird. the auk, vol. 14, pp. 211-212. danforth, stuart t. 1925--birds of the cartagena lagoon, porto rico. journal of the department of agriculture of porto rico, vol. 10, no. 1. davies, sutton a. 1895--in quest of birds on the muonio river. zoologist, ser. 3, vol. 19, pp. 326-335. 1905--on the birds of the upper muonio river. the ibis, 1905, pp. 67-85. dawson, william leon. 1909--the birds of washington. 1923--the birds of california. dixon, joseph. 1917--the home life of the baird sandpiper. the condor, vol. 19, pp. 77-84. 1917a--children of the midnight sun. bird lore, vol. 19, pp. 185-192. 1918--the nesting grounds and nesting habits of the spoon-billed sandpiper. the auk, vol. 35, pp. 387-404. dresser, henry eeles. 1871--a history of the birds of europe. 1904--on the late dr. walter's ornithological researches in the taimyr peninsula. the ibis, 1904, pp. 228-235. eifrig, charles william gustave. 1905--ornithological results of the canadian "neptune" expedition to hudson bay and northward. the auk, vol. 22, pp. 233-241. elliott, daniel giraud. 1895--north american shore birds. evans, edward, and sturge, wilson. 1859--notes on the birds of western spitzbergen, as observed in 1855. the ibis, 1859, p. 171. farren, william. 1910--articles on "redshank and greenshank" (pp. 509-521). "the godwits" (pp. 521-528). from "the british bird book." edited by f. b. kirkman. 1910-1913. fay, samuel prescott. 1911--hudsonian godwit (_limosa haemastica_) in massachusetts. the auk, vol. 28, pp. 257-258. feilden, henry wemyss. 1877--list of birds observed in smith sound and in the polar basin during the arctic expedition of 1875-76. the ibis, 1877, p. 401. 1879--notes from an arctic journal. zoologist, 1879, p. 107. 1920--breeding of the knot in grinnell land. british birds, vol. 13, pp. 278-282. forbush, edward howe. 1912--a history of the game birds, wild-fowl and shore birds of massachusetts and adjacent states. 1925--birds of massachusetts and other new england states. gault, benjamin true. 1902--food habits of the wilson snipe. the wilson bulletin, vol. 9, pp. 7-10. gibson, ernest. 1920--further ornithological notes from the neighborhood of cape san antonio, province of buenos ayres. the ibis, 1920, pp. 1-97. gilroy, norman. 1922--field notes and observations on the greenshank. british birds, vol. 16, pp. 129-133. giraud, jacob post. 1844--the birds of long island. gladstone, hugh steuart. 1907--the red-necked phalarope in ireland. british birds, vol. 1, pp. 174-177. godman, frederick du cane, and percy sandon. 1861--on the birds observed at bodã¶ during the spring and summer of 1857. the ibis, 1861, pp. 87-89. goebel, h. numerous articles on eggs of russian and siberian birds, chiefly published in the zeitschrift fã¼r oologie (und ornithologie). gordon, audrey. 1921--a note on the nesting of the red-necked phalarope. british birds, vol. 15, pp. 90-91. gordon, seton. 1915--hill birds of scotland. goss, nathaniel stickney. 1891--history of the birds of kansas. grinnell, joseph. 1900--birds of the kotzebue sound region. pacific coast avifauna no. 1. grinnell, joseph; bryant, harold child; and storer, tracy irwin. 1918--the game birds of california. hancock, john. 1874--a catalogue of the birds of northumberland and durham. natural history transactions of northumberland & durham, 1873, vol. 6, pp. xxvi, 178. hanna, g. dallas. 1921--the pribilof sandpiper. the condor, vol. 23, pp. 50-57. harrold, c. g. 1923--notes on the hudsonian godwit in alberta. the canadian field-naturalist, vol. 37, pp. 138-139. hart, h. chichester. 1880--notes on the ornithology of the british polar expedition, 1875-6. zoologist, 1880, p. 205. hartert, ernst. 1920--die vã¶gel der palã¤arktischen fauna. hatch, philo louis. 1892--notes on the birds of minnesota. haviland, maud d. 1915--notes on the breeding habits of the grey phalarope. british birds, vol. 9, pp. 11-16. 1915_a_--notes on the breeding habits of the curlew sandpiper. british birds, vol. 8, pp. 178-183. henshaw, henry wetherbee. 1875--report upon the ornithological collections made in portions of nevada, utah, california, colorado, new mexico, and arizona during the years 1871, 1872, 1873, and 1874. report upon geographical and geological explorations and surveys west of the one hundredth meridian. hewitson, william chapman. 1856--eggs of british birds, 3rd ed. holland, arthur h. 1891--further notes on the birds of the argentine republic. the ibis, 1891, pp. 16-20. 1892--short notes on the birds of estancia espartella, argentine republic. the ibis, 1892, p. 193-214. howell, arthur holmes. 1924--birds of alabama. hudson, william henry. 1920--birds of la plata. huntington, dwight william. 1903--our feathered game. huxley, julian s. 1912--a first account of the courtship of the redshank. proceedings of the zoological society of london, 1912, pp. 647-655. 1925--the absence of "courtship" in the avocet. british birds, vol. 19, pp. 88-94. huxley, julian s., and montague, f. a. 1926--studies on the courtship and sexual life of birds. vi. the black-tailed godwit, limosa limosa (l). the ibis, 1926, pp. 1-25. jones, lynds. 1909--the birds of cedar point and vicinity. the wilson bulletin, no. 67, vol. 21, pp. 55-76, 115-131, 187-204; vol. 22, pp. 25-41, 97-115, 172-182. kells, william l. 1906--nesting of wilson's snipe. the ottawa naturalist, vol. 20, pp. 53-55. knight, ora willis. 1908--the birds of maine. kumlien, ludwig. 1879--contributions to the natural history of arctic america. bulletin of the united states national museum, no. 15. laing, hamilton m. 1913--out with the birds. 1925--birds collected and observed during the cruise of the thiepval in the north pacific, 1924. victoria memorial museum bulletin, no. 40. lewis, elisha j. 1885--the american sportsman. macfarlane, roderick ross. 1908--list of birds and eggs observed and collected in the northwest territories of canada, between 1880 and 1894. in through the mackenzie basin, by charles mair. macgillivray, william. 1852--a history of british birds. mackay, george henry. 1893--observations on the knot (_tringa canutus_). the auk, vol. 10, pp. 25-35. 1894--notes on certain water birds in massachusetts. the auk, vol. 11, pp. 223-228. manniche, arner ludvig valdemar. 1910--the terrestrial mammals and birds of northeast greenland. medelelser om gronland, bd. 45. massey, herbert. 1913--notes on the eggs of the north american limicolae, referring principally to the accidental visitors. the condor, vol. 15, pp. 193-198. maynard, charles johnson. 1896--the birds of eastern north america. mcatee, waldo lee. 1911--our vanishing shorebirds. biological survey circular no. 79. moore, robert thomas. 1912--the least sandpiper during the nesting season in the magdalen islands. the auk, vol. 29, pp. 210-223. murdoch, john. 1885--report of the international polar expedition to point barrow, alaska. part 4, natural history. murphy, robert cushman. 1926--nest-protecting display of the woodcock. bird-lore, vol. 28, pp. 265-266. naumann, johann friedrich. 1887-1895--naturgeschichte der vã¶gel mitteleuropas. edited by c. r. hennicke. nelson, edward william. 1877--a contribution to the biography of wilson's phalarope. bulletin of the nuttall ornithological club, vol. 2, pp. 38-43. 1877_a_--birds of northeastern illinois. bulletin of the essex institute, vol. 8, pp. 90-155. 1883--the birds of bering sea and the arctic ocean. cruise of the revenue steamer corwin in alaska and the n. w. arctic ocean in 1881. 1887--report upon natural history collections made in alaska. newton, alfred. 1896--a dictionary of birds. nichols, john treadwell. 1920.--limicoline voices. the auk, vol. 37, pp. 519-540. norman, ernest s. the nesting of the greater yellowlegs in manitoba. the oologist, vol. 32, pp. 126-127. osgood, wilfred hudson. 1909--biological investigations in alaska and yukon territory. north american fauna, no. 30. palmer, william. 1890--notes on the birds observed during the cruise of the united states fish commission schooner grampus in the summer of 1887. proceedings of the united states national museum, vol. 13, pp. 249-265. 1899--the avifauna of the pribilof islands. the fur-seals and fur-sea islands of the north pacific ocean, part 3, pp. 355-431. peabody, putnam burton. 1903--wilson's phalarope. the oologist, vol. 20, pp. 11-12. pearson, henry john. 1904--three summers among the birds of russian lapland. pearson, thomas gilbert. 1916--the avocet. educational leaflet no. 88. bird-lore, vol. 18, pp. 342-345. philipp, philip bernard. 1925--notes on some summer birds of the magdalen islands. the canadian field-naturalist, vol. 39, pp. 75-78. popham, hugh leyborne. 1897--notes on birds observed on the yenesei river, siberia in 1895. the ibis, 1897, pp. 89-108. 1898--further notes on birds observed on the yenesei river, siberia. the ibis, 1898, pp. 489-520. 1901--supplementary notes on the birds of the yenesei river. the ibis, 1901, pp. 442-458. poynting, frank. 1895-6--eggs of british birds. preble, edward alexander. 1902--a biological investigation of the hudson bay region. north american fauna, no. 22. 1908--a biological investigation of the athabasca-mackenzie region. north american fauna, no. 27. preble, edward alexander, and mcatee, waldo lee. 1923--a biological survey of the pribilof islands, alaska. north american fauna, no. 46. pringle, james j. 1899--twenty years of snipe shooting. reid, philip savile grey. 1884--the birds of bermuda. part 4 in contributions to the natural history of the bermudas. bulletin united states national museum, no. 25. rey, eugene. 1905--die eier der vã¶gel mltteleuropas, 2 vols. rich, walter herbert. 1907--feathered game of the northeast. ridgway, robert. 1880--on a new alaskan sandpiper. bulletin of the nuttall ornithological club, vol. 5, pp. 160-163. 1919--the birds of north and middle america, part 8. roberts, thomas sadler. 1919--water birds of minnesota past and present. biennial report of the state game and fish commission of minnesota, for the biennial period ending july 31, 1918. rockwell, robert blanchard. 1912--notes on the wading birds of the barr lake region, colorado. the condor, vol. 14, pp. 117-131. ross, roland case. 1922--red phalarope in southern california. the condor, vol. 24, pp. 66 and 67. 1924--occurrence and behavior of certain shorebirds in southern california. the condor, vol. 26, pp. 90-92. rowan, william. 1926--notes on alberta waders included in the british list. british birds, vol. 20, pp. 2-10, 34-42, 82-90, 138-145, 186-192. sandys, edwin. 1904--upland game birds. sanford, leonard cutler, bishop, louis bennett, and vandyke, theodore strong. 1903--the waterfowl family. saunders, aretas andrews. 1926--the summer birds of central new york marshes. roosevelt wild life bulletin, vol. 3, pp. 335-475. saunders, william e. 1896--keen sight of birds. the ottawa naturalist, vol. 9, p. 214. 1902--birds of sable island, n. s. the ottawa naturalist, vol. 16, pp. 15-31. scott, william earl dodge. 1881--on birds observed in sumpter, levy, and hillsboro counties, florida. bulletin of the nuttall ornithological club, vol. 6, pp. 14-21. seebohm, henry. 1884--history of british birds. 1888--the geographical distribution of the family charadriidae, or the plovers, sandpipers, snipes, and their allies. selby, prideaux john. 1833--illustrations of british ornithology. selous, edmund. 1906--observations tending to throw light on the question of sexual selection in birds, etc. zoologist, 1906, pp. 201-19, 285-94, 419-28. slater, henry horrocks. 1898--british birds with their nests and eggs. order limicolae. stejneger, leonhard. 1885--results of ornithological explorations in the commander islands and in kamtschatka. bulletin of the united states national museum, no. 29. stoddard, herbert l. 1923--some wisconsin shore-bird records. the auk, vol. 40, pp. 319-321. street, j. fletcher. 1923--on the nesting grounds of the solitary sandpiper and the lesser yellowlegs. the auk, vol. 40, pp. 577-583. suckley, george, and cooper, james graham. 1860--the natural history of washington territory and oregon. sutton, george miksch. 1923--notes on the nesting of the wilson's snipe in crawford county, pennsylvania. the wilson bulletin, vol. 35, pp. 191-202. swainson, william, and richardson, john. 1831--fauna boreali-americana, vol. 2, birds. swarth, harry schelwaldt. 1911--birds and mammals of the 1909 alexander alaska expedition. university of california publications in zoology, vol. 7, pp. 9-172. 1922--birds and mammals of the stikine river region of northern british columbia and southeastern alaska. university of california publications in zoology, vol. 24, pp. 125-314. tabor, e. g. 1904--a woodcock at home. bird-lore, vol. 6, pp. 149-153. taverner, percy algernon. 1926--birds of western canada. taylor, walter penn. 1912--field notes on amphibians, reptiles, and birds of northern humboldt county, nevada. university of california publications in zoology, vol. 7, pp. 319-436. thayer, john eliot. 1909--limonites ruficollis in alaska. the condor, vol. 11, p. 173. 1911--eggs of the spoonbill sandpiper (_eurynorhynchus pygmeus_). the auk, vol. 28, pp. 153-155. thayer, john eliot, and bangs, outram. 1914--notes on the birds and mammals of the arctic coast of east siberia. birds. proceedings of the new england zoological club, vol. 5, pp. 1-66. todd, walter edmond clyde. 1904--the birds of erie and presque isle, erie county, pennsylvania. annals of the carnegie museum, vol. 2, pp. 481-596. torrey, bradford. 1913--field days in california. townsend, charles wendell. 1905--the birds of essex county, massachusetts. memoirs of the nuttall ornithological club, no. 3. 1920--supplement to the birds of essex county, massachusetts. memoirs of the nuttall ornithological club, no. 5. trevor-battye, aubyn. 1897--the birds of spitsbergen, as at present determined. the ibis, 1897, pp. 574-600. trostler, isador s. 1893--the american woodcock. the oologist, vol. 10, pp. 278-279. turner, lucien mcshan. 1886--contributions to the natural history of alaska. tyler, john g. 1913--some birds of the fresno district, california. pacific coast avifauna, no. 9. watkins, lucius whitney. 1894--mimicry in the nesting of the american woodcock. the nidiologist, vol. 1, pp. 174-175. wayne, arthur trezevant. 1910--birds of south carolina. contributions from the charleston museum, no. 1. webster, frederic smith. 1887--a fern-eating woodcock. the auk, vol. 4, pp. 73-74. welch, l. w. 1922--vermilion flycatcher and red phalarope at long beach, california. the condor, vol. 24, p. 62. wetmore, alexander. 1916--birds of porto rico. united states department of agriculture bulletin no. 326. 1925--food of american phalaropes, avocets, and stilts. united states department of agriculture, department bulletin no. 1359. 1926--observations on the birds of argentina, paraguay, uruguay, and chile. united states national museum bulletin 133. wheelwright, h. w. 1864--"an old bushman." a spring and summer in lapland. 1865--ten years in sweden. wilson, alexander. 1832--american ornithology. witherby, harry forbes, and others. 1920--a practical handbook of british birds. wormald, hugh. 1909--a tame snipe and its habits. british birds, vol. 2, pp. 249-258. yarrell, william. 1871--history of british birds, fourth edition, 1871-85. revised and enlarged by alfred newton and howard saunders. plates [illustration: plate 1. lesser yellow-legs. immature. gimli, manitoba, august, 1914; presented by mr. a. g. lawrence.] [illustration: plate 2. red phalarope. _upper_: nest and eggs of red phalarope, cape prince of wales, alaska, july 1, 1922; presented by mr. alfred m. bailey, by courtesy of the colorado museum of natural history. _lower_: male red phalarope on his nest, golchika island, yenisei river, siberia, july, 1914; presented by mrs. maud d. (haviland) brindley, referred to on page 5.] [illustration: plate 3. northern phalarope. _upper_: pair of northern phalaropes, outer hebrides, june 11, 1913; presented by mrs. maud d. (haviland) brindley, referred to on page 23. _lower_: nesting site of northern phalarope, unalakleet, alaska, june 20, 1918; from a negative taken by mr. t. l. richardson for the author.] [illustration: plate 4. northern phalarope, _upper_: nest and eggs of northern phalarope, st. michael, alaska, june 9, 1914. _lower_: another nest, near the yukon delta, alaska, june 16, 1914. both photographs taken by mr. f. s. hersey for the author, referred to on page 19.] [illustration: plate 5. wilson phalarope. _upper_: nesting site of wilson phalarope, reedy lake, saskatchewan, june 8, 1905. _lower_: nest and eggs of wilson phalarope, quill lake, saskatchewan, june 3, 1917. both photographs taken by the author, referred to on page 30.] [illustration: plate 6. wilson phalarope. _upper_: male wilson phalarope on his nest, barr lake, colorado; presented by mr. robert b. rockwell. _lower_: young wilson phalarope, wolf lake, whiting, indiana, june, 1925; presented by mr. edward s. thomas.] [illustration: plate 7. american avocet. _upper_: nest and eggs of american avocet, hay lake, saskatchewan, june 15, 1905. _lower_: another nest, big stick lake, saskatchewan, june 14, 1906. both photographs by the author, referred to on page 38.] [illustration: plate 8. american avocet. _upper_: downy young american avocet. _lower_: adult american avocet. both photographs presented by mr. jenness richardson.] [illustration: plate 9. american avocet. _upper_: young american avocets, just hatched, barr lake, colorado; presented by mr. robert b. rockwell. _lower_: nest and eggs of american avocet, near keysville, utah; presented by mr. clark blickensderfer.] [illustration: plate 10. black-necked stilt. _upper_: nesting site and nest of black-necked stilt, lake key, florida, may 8, 1903. _lower_: another nest, same locality and date. both photographs by the author, referred to on page 47.] [illustration: plate 11. black-necked stilt. _upper_: elevated nest of black-necked stilt, firebaugh, california, june 30, 1923; presented by mr. john g. tyler. _lower_: typical nest of black-necked stilt, fresno county, california, may 20, 1917; a photograph by mr. j. a. miles, presented by mr. john g. tyler.] [illustration: plate 12. black-necked stilt. _upper_: downy young black-necked stilts. _lower_: adult black-necked stilt on its nest. both photographs presented by dr. frank m. chapman, by courtesy of d. appleton & company.] [illustration: plate 13. black-necked stilt. nest and eggs of black-necked stilt, near salt lake city, utah; presented by mr. clark blickensderfer.] [illustration: plate 14. american woodcock. _upper_: american woodcock on its nest, brookline, massachusetts, june 2, 1924. _lower_: nearer view of the same bird. both photographs by the author, referred to on page 65.] [illustration: plate 15. american woodcock. american woodcock on its nest, staten island, new york, about 1900; presented by mr. howard h. cleaves.] [illustration: plate 16. american woodcock. _upper_: downy young of american woodcock, near montreal, quebec, may 11, 1924; presented by mr. w. j. brown. _lower_: nest and eggs of american woodcock, in a thicket on a hillside in a field of sedge, near elkridge, maryland, april 1, 1917; presented by mr. william h. fisher.] [illustration: plate 17. wilson snipe. _upper_: nest and eggs of wilson snipe, magdalen islands, quebec, june 18, 1904. _lower_: nearer view of same nest. both photographs by the author, referred to on page 84.] [illustration: plate 18. wilson snipe. _upper_: wilson snipe on the nest shown on plate 17; presented by mr. herbert k. job, referred to on page 84. _lower_: nest and eggs of wilson snipe, yukon delta, alaska, june 18, 1914; a photograph taken by mr. f. seymour hersey for the author, referred to on page 85.] [illustration: plate 19. dowitcher. _upper_: nesting site of dowitcher, nest under the bush in the centre, near fort assiniboine, alberta, june 3, 1926. _lower_: nearer view of the nest. both photographs presented by mr. richard h. rauch, referred to on page 109.] [illustration: plate 20. _upper_: dowitcher. dowitcher on the nest shown on plate 19, referred to on page 109. _lower_: stilt sandpiper. stilt sandpiper, immature, ithaca, new york; presented by dr. arthur a. allen.] [illustration: plate 21. long-billed dowitcher. _upper_: nesting site of long-billed dowitcher, yukon delta, alaska, june 20, 1914; a photograph taken by mr. f. seymour hersey for the author. _lower_: long-billed dowitcher, monterey county, california, october 10, 1913; presented by mr. w. leon dawson.] [illustration: plate 22. long-billed dowitcher. _upper_: distant view of long-billed dowitcher's nest, st. michael, alaska, june 9, 1914. _lower_: nearer view of same nest. both photographs taken by mr. f. seymour hersey for the author, referred to on page 117.] [illustration: plate 23. knot. _upper_: knot on its nest. _lower_: nest and eggs of knot. both photographs taken by dr. w. elmer ekblaw at north star bay, greenland, in june, 1916; presented by him and by courtesy of the american museum of natural history, referred to on page 135.] [illustration: plate 24. knot. nesting site of knot, near sheridan river, grinnell land, june 27, 1909; a photograph taken by admiral robert e. peary, loaned by mr. h. f. witherby, and published on the author's own responsibility, referred to on page 135.] [illustration: plate 25. knot. _upper_: knot on its nest. _lower_: nest and eggs of knot, near sheridan river, grinnell land, june 27, 1909. both photographs taken by admiral peary and published under the same circumstances as plate 24, referred to on page 135.] [illustration: plate 26. purple sandpiper. _upper_: purple sandpiper on its nest, spitsbergen, july 2, 1922; presented by maj. w. m. congreve. _lower_: purple sandpipers on the rocks at scituate, massachusetts, december 28, 1926; presented by dr. john b. may.] [illustration: plate 27. aleutian sandpiper. _upper_: nest and eggs of aleutian sandpiper. _lower_: downy young of aleutian sandpiper. both photographs taken by mr. alfred m. bailey at emma harbor, providence bay, siberia, july 4, 1921; presented by him and by courtesy of the colorado museum of natural history, referred to on page 162.] [illustration: plate 28. aleutian sandpiper. _upper_: nesting site of aleutian sandpiper. _lower_: nest and eggs of aleutian sandpiper. both photographs taken by the author on kiska island, alaska, june 18, 1911, referred to on page 161.] [illustration: plate 29. pectoral sandpiper. _upper_: nesting site of pectoral sandpiper. _lower_: nest and eggs of pectoral sandpiper. both photographs taken by mr. f. seymour hersey for the author at st. michael, alaska, june 9, 1914, referred to on page 172.] [illustration: plate 30. pectoral sandpiper. _upper_: pectoral sandpiper, buckeye lake, ohio, september, 1924; presented by mr. edward s. thomas. _lower_: downy young pectoral sandpipers, st. michael, alaska, june 27, 1914; a photograph taken by mr. f. seymour hersey for the author.] [illustration: plate 31. white-rumped sandpiper. _upper_: nest and eggs of white-rumped sandpiper, june 23, 1925. _lower_: white-rumped sandpiper on its nest, june 21, 1925. both photographs taken by mr. j. dewey soper at nettilling lake, baffin island; presented by him, and by courtesy of the department of mines, canada, referred to on page 183.] [illustration: plate 32. _upper_: sharp-tailed sandpiper. sharp-tailed sandpipers, alice downs, queensland, australia; a photograph taken by mr. d. w. gaukrodger and presented by mr. w. b. alexander. _lower_: white-rumped sandpiper. downy young white-rumped sandpiper, nettilling lake, baffin island, july 13, 1925; presented by mr. j. dewey soper and by courtesy of the department of mines, canada.] [illustration: plate 33. baird sandpiper. _upper_: nest and eggs of baird sandpiper, griffin point, alaska, june 24, 1914. _lower_: baird sandpiper on above nest. both photographs presented by mr. joseph dixon, referred to on page 195.] [illustration: plate 34. baird sandpiper. _upper_: young baird sandpiper, herschell island, yukon, july 30, 1914. _lower_: nest and eggs of baird sandpiper, griffin point, alaska, july 11, 1914. both photographs presented by mr. joseph dixon.] [illustration: plate 35. least sandpiper. _upper_: least sandpiper incubating. _lower_: least sandpiper at its nest. both photographs taken by mr. herbert k. job, magdalen islands, quebec, june 18, 1921, and presented by him.] [illustration: plate 36. least sandpiper. _upper_: least sandpiper feeding, carpinteria, california, august 13, 1917; presented by mr. w. leon dawson. _lower_: nest and eggs of least standpiper, magdalen islands, quebec; presented by mr. p. b. philipp.] [illustration: plate 37. red-backed sandpiper. _upper_: flock of red-backed sandpipers and one turnstone, gimli, manitoba, may 24, 1922; presented by mr. a. g. lawrence. _lower_: nest and eggs of red-backed sandpiper, cape prince of wales, alaska, june 25, 1922; presented by mr. alfred m. bailey and by courtesy of the colorado museum of natural history.] [illustration: plate 38. curlew sandpiper. _upper_: nest and eggs of curlew sandpiper, near golchika, yenisei river, july 7, 1914. _lower_: site of above nest. both photographs presented by mrs. maud d. (haviland) brindley, referred to on page 233.] [illustration: plate 39. spoon-bill sandpiper. _upper_: nesting site of spoonbill sandpiper, providence bay, siberia, june 22, 1913. _lower_: nest and eggs of spoonbill sandpiper, in above locality. both photographs presented by mr. joseph dixon, referred to on page 239.] [illustration: plate 40. semipalmated sandpiper. _upper_: pair of semipalmated sandpipers, near their young, griffin point, alaska, july 2, 1914. _lower_: nest and eggs of semipalmated sandpiper, griffin point, alaska, july 12, 1914. both photographs presented by mr. joseph dixon.] [illustration: plate 41. semipalmated sandpiper. semipalmated sandpipers; presented by mr. a. brooker klugh.] [illustration: plate 42. western sandpiper. _upper_: nesting site of western sandpiper, yukon delta, alaska. _lower_: nest and eggs of western sandpiper, yukon delta, alaska, june 16, 1914. both photographs taken by mr. f. seymour hersey for the author.] [illustration: plate 43. western sandpiper. _upper_: nest and eggs of western sandpiper, wales, alaska, june 25, 1922; presented by mr. alfred m. bailey and by courtesy of the colorado museum of natural history. _lower_: downy young western sandpipers, yukon delta, alaska, june 23, 1914; a photograph taken by mr. f. seymour hersey for the author.] [illustration: plate 44. sanderling. _upper_: nesting site of sanderling, northeastern greenland, july, 1908. _lower_: sanderling on its nest in above locality. both photographs presented by mr. a. l. v. manniche, referred to on page 267.] [illustration: plate 45. sanderling. _upper_: nest and eggs of sanderling, northeastern greenland, 77â° north. _lower_: downy young sanderlings, 3, 7 and 11 days old. both photographs presented by mr. a. l. v. manniche.] [illustration: plate 46. sanderling. _upper_: sanderlings on the beach, staten island, new york, october 12, 1909; presented by mr. howard h. cleaves. _lower_: immature sanderling, ithaca, new york; presented by dr. arthur a. allen.] [illustration: plate 47. marbled godwit. _upper_: nest and eggs of marbled godwit, reedy lake, saskatchewan, june 8, 1905. _lower_: another nest, hay lake, saskatchewan, june 5, 1905. both photographs taken by the author, referred to on page 279.] [illustration: plate 48. marbled godwit. _upper_: distant view of marbled godwit on its nest, hay lake, saskatchewan, june 9, 1906. _lower_: close up view of same bird. both photographs taken by the author, referred to on page 280.] [illustration: plate 49. marbled godwit. _upper_: marbled godwits on the beach at santa barbara, california, may 4, 1914; presented by mr. w. leon dawson. _lower_: nest and eggs of marbled godwit, same as shown on plate 48, taken by the author.] [illustration: plate 50. pacific godwit. _upper_: nest and eggs of pacific godwit, hooper bay, alaska; presented by mr. herbert w. brandt. _lower_: downy young pacific godwits, yukon delta, alaska, july 2, 1914; a photograph taken by mr. f. seymour hersey, for the author.] [illustration: plate 51. _upper_: black-tailed godwit. black-tailed godwit coming onto its nest; presented by prof. julian s. huxley. _lower_: redshank. nest and eggs of redshank; presented by mr. c. w. colthrup.] [illustration: plate 52. greater yellow-legs. greater yellow-legs, lyon, michigan, april 25, 1924; presented by mr. walter e. hastings.] [illustration: plate 53. lesser yellow-legs. _upper_: nesting site of lesser yellow-legs, belvedere, alberta, june 3, 1923; presented by mr. j. fletcher street. _lower_: nest and eggs of yellow-legs, belvedere, alberta, june 4, 1923; presented by mr. george h. stuart, 3rd. both referred to on page 337.] [illustration: plate 54. lesser yellow-legs. _upper_: nesting site of lesser yellow-legs, near belvedere, alberta; presented by mr. richard c. harlow. _lower_: nest and eggs of lesser yellow-legs in the same general locality; presented by mr. richard h. rauch. both referred to on page 338.] [illustration: plate 55. lesser yellow-legs. _upper_: lesser yellow-legs; presented by mr. a. brooker klugh. _lower_: downy young lesser yellow-legs, belvedere, alberta; presented by mr. j. fletcher street, referred to on page 338.] index abbott, gerard a., on marbled godwit, 280 acuminata, pisobia, 167 aiken, charles e. h., on american avocet, 43 aiken and warren, on wilson snipe, 93 alba, crocethia, 265 aleutian sandpiper, 159 alexander, w. b., on sharp-tailed sandpiper, 168 allen, arthur a., on stilt sandpiper, 126 allen, francis h.- on american woodcock, 64 on lesser yellow-legs, 341 allen, j. a., on rufous-necked sandpiper, 215 alpina alpina, pelidna, 217 alpina, pelidna alpina, 217 alpina sakhalina, pelidna, 221 american avocet, 37 american knot, 131 american woodcock, 61 americana, recurvirostra, 37 arquatella maritima, 146 arquatella ptilocnemis couesi, 159 ptilocnemis, 152 asiatic knot, eastern, 145 audubon, j. j.- on american avocet, 41 on american woodcock, 62, 69 on eastern dowitcher, 113 on hudsonian godwit, 295 on marbled godwit, 277, 283, 287 on red-backed sandpiper, 226 on stilt sandpiper, 125, 126 avocet, american, 37 bacon, samuel e., on red-backed sandpiper, 228 bahr, p. h., on northern phalarope, 18 bailey, alfred m.- on aleutian sandpiper, 162 on baird sandpiper, 194 on eastern asiatic knot, 145 on pectoral sandpiper, 172 on red phalarope, 1 on rufous-necked sandpiper, 216 bailey, mrs. florence m., on marbled godwit, 283 baird sandpiper, 193 bairdi, pisobia, 193 bartsch, paul, on greater yellow-legs, 327 baueri, limosa lapponica, 289 best and haviland, on northern phalarope, 23 bishop, louis b.- on least sandpiper, 205 on red-backed sandpiper, 228 black-necked stilt, 47 black-tailed godwit, 304 bond, j. walpole, on greenshank, 310 boraston, john m. on european snipe, 79 bowles, j. h.- on baird sandpiper, 199 on red-backed sandpiper, 229 on wilson snipe, 93 brandt, herbert w.- on aleutian sandpiper, 160 on baird sandpiper, 195 on black-necked stilt, 48 on long-billed dowitcher, 116, 117 on northern phalarope, 18 on pacific godwit, 290, 291, 293 on pectoral sandpiper, 172, 174 on red-backed sandpiper, 222, 223 on red phalarope, 6, 12 on semipalmated sandpiper, 245, 246 on western sandpiper, 257, 258 bretherton, bernard j., on aleutian sandpiper, 164 brewster, william- on american woodcock, 64, 66, 72 on baird sandpiper, 197, 198, 199 on greater yellow-legs, 324, 329, 330 on lesser yellow-legs, 340 on northern phalarope, 22, 23 on red-backed sandpiper, 227 on red phalarope, 10, 11 on semipalmated sandpiper, 250 on white-rumped sandpiper, 187, 188, 189 on wilson snipe, 91 brooks, w. sprague- on baird sandpiper, 194, 195 on pectoral sandpiper, 172 on rufous-necked sandpiper, 216 on semipalmated sandpiper, 246 brown, d. e., on red-backed sandpiper, 221 burtch, verdi, on stilt sandpiper, 126 buturlin, s. a., on pectoral sandpiper, 171, 173 buxton, n. g., on rufous-necked sandpiper, 215 cahoon, john c., on eastern dowitcher, 113 calidris canutus rufus, 131 calidris tenuirostris, 145 cameron, e. s., on wilson phalarope, 34 canutus rufus, calidris, 131 capella gallinago delicata, 81 capella gallinago gallinago, 78 capella media, 98 chapman, abel- on dunlin, 220 on european woodcock, 57 chapman, frank m.- on american avocet, 41 on black-necked stilt, 50 chislett, ralph, on jack snipe, 103 clark, austin h., on aleutian sandpiper, 162, 165 conover, h. b.- on long-billed dowitcher, 118 on pectoral sandpiper, 170, 171, 173 on western sandpiper, 258 cooke, wells w.- on eastern dowitcher, 108 on european woodcock, 60 on greater yellow-legs, 330 on red-backed sandpiper, 223 on wilson snipe, 91 coues, elliott- on eastern dowitcher, 111 on stilt sandpiper, 127 couesi, arquatella ptilocnemis, 159 crocethia alba, 265 curlew sandpiper, 232 dalgleish, john j., on european woodcock, 56 danforth, stuart t.- on black-necked stilt, 53 on greater yellow-legs, 327 on lesser yellow-legs, 340, 344 on semipalmated sandpiper, 252 on stilt sandpiper, 125 on white-rumped sandpiper, 186 dawson, w. leon- on american avocet, 42 on black-necked stilt, 47, 48, 50, 52 on red phalarope, 2, 9 on wilson phalarope, 29, 33 on wilson snipe, 83 delicata, capella gallinago, 81 dixon, joseph- on baird sandpiper, 194, 195, 196 on semipalmated sandpiper, 245, 247 on spoonbill sandpiper, 237, 238, 239, 240, 242, 243 dowitcher, eastern, 106 dowitcher, long-billed, 115 dresser, henry e.- on european woodcock, 60 on jack snipe, 104 on sanderling, 268 dunlin, 217 eastern asiatic knot, 145 eastern dowitcher, 106 eifrig, c. w. g., on red phalarope, 5 ekblaw, w. e., on american knot, 133, 134, 136, 137, 139, 141 elliot, d. g., on hudsonian godwit, 298 ereunetes mauri, 255 ereunetes pusillus, 244 erolia ferruginea, 232 european snipe, 78 european woodcock, 54 eurynorhynchus pygmeus, 237 evans, e., and sturge, w., on purple sandpiper, 147 farren, w., on redshank, 315, 316, 317 fay, s. prescott, on hudsonian godwit, 301 fedoa, limosa, 277 feilden, h. w- on american knot, 135, 139 on sanderling, 267 ferruginea, erolia, 232 fisher, william h., on american woodcock, 68 flavipes, totanus, 336 forbush, edward h.- on american knot, 139 on american woodcock, 62, 72 on hudsonian godwit, 298, 300 on wilson snipe, 89 fulicarius, phalaropus, 1 fuscicollis, pisobia, 181 gallinago, capella gallinago, 78 gallinago delicata, capella, 81 gallinago gallinago, capella, 78 gault, benjamin t., on wilson snipe, 87 gibson, ernest- on hudsonian godwit, 301 on stilt sandpiper, 129 on white-rumped sandpiper, 190 giraud, j. p., on red-backed sandpiper, 226 gladstone, hugh s., on northern phalarope, 20 glottis nebularia, 309 godwit, black-tailed, 304 hudsonian, 295 marbled, 277 pacific, 289 gordon, mrs. audrey, on northern phalarope, 17 gordon, seton- on dunlin, 219 on european snipe, 80 on european woodcock, 54, 55, 58 goss, n. s., on wilson snipe, 83 great snipe, 98 greater yellow-legs, 321 greenshank, 309 grinnell, bryant, and storer, on northern phalarope, 25 grinnell, joseph- on lesser yellow-legs, 337 on red-backed sandpiper, 223 on red phalarope, 5 on semipalmated sandpiper, 244 on wilson snipe, 82 griscom, ludlow, on american knot, 137 griseus griseus, limnodromus, 106 griseus, limnodromus griseus, 106 griseus scolopaceus, limnodromus, 115 haemastica, limosa, 295 hanna, g. dallas, on pribilof sandpiper, 153, 154, 155, 156, 158 harlow, richard c., on eastern dowitcher, 108, 109, 110 harrold, c. g., on hudsonian godwit, 295, 299 hartert, ernst, on aleutian sandpiper, 160 hatch, p. l.- on pectoral sandpiper, 175 on stilt sandpiper, 123 haviland, maud d.- on curlew sandpiper, 233 on red phalarope, 5, 7 henderson, a. d., on eastern dowitcher, 109 henshaw, henry w., on wilson snipe, 88 hewitson, w. c., on purple sandpiper, 147 himantopus mexicanus, 47 himantopus, micropalama, 122 holland, arthur h.- on hudsonian godwit, 301 on pectoral sandpiper, 177 howell, arthur h.- on least sandpiper, 206 on lesser yellow-legs, 340 on semipalmated sandpiper, 249 on western sandpiper, 260 hudson, w. h.- on greater yellow-legs, 331 on pectoral sandpiper, 174 hudsonian godwit, 295 huntington, dwight w., on wilson snipe, 92 huxley, julian s.- on american avocet, 38 on redshank, 316, 317 huxley and montague, on black-tailed godwit, 304 janvrin, e. r. p., on eastern dowitcher, 110 jones, lynds, on american woodcock, 65 jourdain, francis chas. robt.- on black-tailed godwit, 304 on curlew sandpiper, 232 on great snipe, 98 on jack snipe, 101 on redshank, 315 kells, william l. on wilson snipe, 84 knot, american, 131 knot, eastern asiatic, 145 kumlien, ludwig- on purple sandpiper, 146 on red phalarope, 9, 13 laing, hamilton m.- on aleutian sandpiper, 165 on marbled godwit, 284 lapponica baueri, limosa, 289 least sandpiper, 202 lesser yellow-legs, 336 lewis, e. j., on american woodcock, 75 lien, carl, on least sandpiper, 208 limnodromus griseus griseus, 106 limnodromus griseus scolopaceus, 115 limosa fedoa, 277 limosa haemastica, 295 limosa lapponica baueri, 289 limosa limosa limosa, 304 limosa limosa, limosa, 304 limosa, limosa limosa, 304 lobatus, lobipes, 15 lobipes lobatus, 15 long-billed dowitcher, 115 long-toed stint, 213 macfarlane, roderick r.- on baird sandpiper, 194 on lesser yellow-legs, 337 on sanderling, 266 on semipalmated sandpiper, 246 on stilt sandpiper, 123, 124 macgillivray, wm.- on dunlin, 218, 219, 220 on greenshank, 313 mackay, george h.- on american knot, 131, 132, 139, 140, 142 on northern phalarope, 22 maculata, pisobia, 169 manniche, a. l. v.- on american knot, 134, 139, 140 on dunlin, 218 on red phalarope, 3, 4, 9, 12 on sanderling, 266, 267, 269, 273 marbled godwit, 277 maritima, arquatella, 146 massey, herbert- on dunlin, 218 on european woodcock, 56 mauri, ereunetes, 255 maynard, c. j.- on american woodcock, 70 on marbled godwit, 287 on white-rumped sandpiper, 188 mcatee, w. l.- on american knot, 139 on baird sandpiper, 197 media, capella, 98 melanoleucus, totanus, 321 mexicanus, himantopus, 47 micropalama himantopus, 122 minor, rubicola, 61 minutilla, pisobia, 202 moore, n. b., on stilt sandpiper, 125 moore, robert t., on least sandpiper, 203 murdoch, john- on baird sandpiper, 194 on pectoral sandpiper, 170 171, 173, 177 on red-backed sandpiper, 224, 227 on red phalarope, 67 murphy, robert cushman, on american woodcock, 67 nebularia, glottis, 309 nelson, e.-w.- on aleutian sandpiper, 164, 165 on greater yellow-legs, 324 on long-billed dowitcher, 116 on northern phalarope, 16, 17, 20 on pacific godwit, 289, 290, 293, 294 on pectoral sandpiper, 170 on pribilof sandpiper, 153 on red-backed sandpiper, 222, 227 on red phalarope, 3, 11 on sharp-tailed sandpiper, 167, 168 on spoonbill sandpiper, 238, 243 on western sandpiper, 256, 261 on wilson phalarope, 29, 30, 31 nichols, john t.- on american knot, 141 on american woodcock, 61, 67, 69, 71 on baird sandpiper, 199 on dunlin, 220 on eastern dowitcher, 111 on greater yellow-legs, 322, 326, 328, 329 on least sandpiper, 207 on lesser yellow-legs, 341, 343, 345 on marbled godwit, 285 on pectoral sandpiper, 176 on purple sandpiper, 150, 151 on red-backed sandpiper, 227, 229 on red phalarope, 11 on sanderling, 273 on semipalmated sandpiper, 251 on stilt sandpiper, 126, 127, 128 on western sandpiper, 260, 261, 262, 263 on white-rumped sandpiper, 187, 188 on wilson phalarope, 34 on wilson snipe, 88, 90 norman, ernest s., on greater yellow-legs, 324 northern phalarope, 15 pacific godwit, 289 palmer, william- on pacific godwit, 293 on pribilof sandpiper, 155, 156, 157 peabody, p. b., on wilson phalarope, 29 pearson, t. gilbert, on american avocet, 43 pectoral sandpiper, 169 pelidna alpina alpina, 217 pelidna alpina sakhalina, 221 phalarope, northern, 15 phalarope, red, 1 phalarope, wilson, 28 phalaropus fulicarius, 1 philipp, p. b.- on least sandpiper, 203, 204, 209 on wilson snipe, 84, 86 pisobia acuminata, 167 pisobia bairdi, 193 pisobia fuscicollis, 181 pisobia maculata, 169 pisobia minutilla, 202 pisobia ruficollis, 215 pisobia subminuta, 213 popham, h. l., on curlew sandpiper, 232, 233 poynting, frank, on purple sandpiper, 148 preble, e. a., on least sandpiper, 206 preble & mcatee- on baird sandpiper, 197 on long-billed dowitcher, 119 on pectoral sandpiper, 175 on pribilof sandpiper, 157, 158 on semipalmated sandpiper, 249 on sharp-tailed sandpiper, 167 pribilof sandpiper, 152 pringle, james j., on wilson snipe, 92 ptilocnemis, arquatella ptilocnemis, 152 ptilocnemis couesi, arquatella, 159 ptilocnemis ptilocnemis, arquatella, 152 purple sandpiper, 146 pusillus, ereunetes, 244 pygmeus, eurynorhynchus, 237 rathbun, s. f.- on american knot, 133 on long-billed dowitcher, 120 on western sandpiper, 260 recurvirostra americana, 37 red-backed sandpiper, 221 red phalarope, 1 redshank, 315 reid, savile g.- on greater yellow-legs, 330 on lesser yellow-legs, 343 ridgway, robert- on aleutian sandpiper, 159 on black-necked stilt, 51 riley, j. h., on hudsonian godwit, 296 roberts, thomas s., on marbled godwit, 278, 282 rockwell, robert b.- on american avocet, 39 on wilson snipe, 85 ross, roland c.- on american knot, 141 on northern phalarope, 23 on red phalarope, 9 on wilson phalarope, 33 rossignol, gilbert r., on black-necked stilt, 48 rowan, william- on eastern dowitcher, 108 on hudsonian godwit, 298 on stilt sandpiper, 126, 128 rubicola minor, 61 ruficollis, pisobia, 215 rufous-necked sandpiper, 215 rufus, calidris canutus, 131 russon, v., on jack snipe, 103 rusticola, scolopax, 54 sakhalina, pelidna alpina, 221 sanderling, 265 sandpiper, aleutian, 159 baird, 193 curlew, 232 least, 202 pectoral, 169 pribilof, 152 purple, 146 red-backed, 221 rufous-necked, 215 semipalmated, 244 sharp-tailed, 167 spoonbill, 237 stilt, 122 western, 255 white-rumped, 181 sandys, edwyn, on american woodcock, 68 sanford, l. c.- on american knot, 143 on hudsonian godwit, 298, 300 saunders, aretas a.- on american avocet, 44 on lesser yellow-legs, 341 on northern phalarope, 24 on red phalarope, 13 on wilson snipe, 84 on least sandpiper, 203 on red-backed sandpiper, 227 scolopaceus, limnodromus griseus, 115 scolopax rusticola, 54 scott, w. e. d., on eastern dowitcher, 111 seebohm, henry- on eastern asiatic knot, 145 on purple sandpiper, 148 selby, p. j., on european woodcock, 58 semipalmated sandpiper, 244 sharp-tailed sandpiper, 167 skinner, m. p., on wilson snipe, 88 slater, henry h.- on dunlin, 218 on european snipe, 79 on european woodcock, 56, 58, 59 on northern phalarope, 19, 20 on purple sandpiper, 147 snipe, european, 78 snipe, great, 98 snipe, wilson, 81 soper, j. dewey- on purple sandpiper, 147 on white-rumped sandpiper, 182, 183, 184 spoonbill sandpiper, 237 steganopus tricolor, 28 stejneger, leonhard- on aleutian sandpiper, 161, 164 on european snipe, 79 on long-toed stint, 214 on rufous-necked sandpiper, 215 on sharp-tailed sandpiper, 168 stilt, black-necked, 47 sandpiper, 122 stint, long-toed, 213 stoddard, h, l., on northern phalarope, 25 street, j. fletcher, on lesser yellow-legs, 337, 338 subminuta, pisobia, 213 suckley, geo., on red-backed sandpiper, 226 sutton, geo. m., on wilson snipe, 83, 85, 86 swarth, h. s.- on aleutian sandpiper, 160 on greater yellow-legs, 322 on wilson snipe, 89 taber, e. g., on american woodcock, 66 taverner, p. a., on marbled godwit, 285 taylor, walter p.- on american avocet, 43 on wilson phalarope, 34 tenuirostris, calidris, 145 thayer and bangs, on dunlin, 217 thayer, john e., on spoonbill sandpiper, 239 todd, w. e. clyde, on eastern dowitcher, 109 torrey, bradford, on marbled godwit, 286 totanus flavipes, 336 melanoleucus, 321 totanus, 315 totanus, totanus, 315 townsend, chas. w.- on baird sandpiper, 197 on greater yellow-legs, 322, 330 on least sandpiper, 202 on purple sandpiper, 149 on red-backed sandpiper, 225, 227 on red phalarope, 11 on sanderling, 271, 274 on semipalmated sandpiper, 244 on white-rumped sandpiper, 188 trevor-battye, aubyn, on purple sandpiper, 146 tricolor, steganopus, 28 trostler, isador s., on american woodcock, 66 turner, lucien m.- on aleutian sandpiper, 161, 162, 164 on semipalmated sandpiper, 245 on white-rumped sandpiper, 186, 188 tyler, john g.- on american avocet, 43 on black-necked stilt, 49 watkins, l. whitney, on american woodcock, 66 wayne, arthur t.- on american knot, 132 on american woodcock, 74 on eastern dowitcher, 107 on red-backed sandpiper, 228 on western sandpiper, 262 on wilson snipe, 93 welch, l. w., on red phalarope, 12 western sandpiper, 255 wetmore, alexander- on american avocet, 39, 41 on black-necked stilt, 50, 51 on greater yellow-legs, 332 on hudsonian godwit, 297, 299, 301 on least sandpiper, 206 on lesser yellow-legs, 340, 345 on northern phalarope, 22 on pectoral sandpiper, 175 on red phalarope, 10 on semipalmated sandpiper, 248 on stilt sandpiper, 129 on white-rumped sandpiper, 181, 182, 190 whitaker, j. r., on greater yellow-legs, 322, 323 white-rumped sandpiper, 181 wilson, alexander, on red-backed sandpiper, 226 wilson phalarope, 28 wilson snipe, 81 witherby's handbook- on european woodcock, 57, 58 on northern phalarope, 24 on purple sandpiper, 148, 149 on sanderling, 270 wolley, john, on jack snipe, 102, 103 woodcock, american, 61 european, 54 yarrell, william- on european woodcock, 59 on purple sandpiper, 149 yellow-legs, greater, 321 yellow-legs, lesser, 336 a catalogue of selected dover books in all fields of interest a catalogue of selected dover books in all fields of interest conditioned reflexes, ivan p. pavlov. full translation of most complete statement of pavlov's work; cerebral damage, conditioned reflex, experiments with dogs, sleep, similar topics of great importance. 430pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 60614-7 pa. $4.50 notes on nursing: what it is, and what it is not, florence nightingale. outspoken writings by founder of modern nursing. when first published (1860) it played an important role in much needed revolution in nursing. still stimulating. 140pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 22340-x pa. $2.50 harter's picture archive for collage and illustration, jim harter. over 300 authentic, rare 19th-century engravings selected by noted collagist for artists, designers, decoupeurs, etc. machines, people, animals, etc., printed one side of page. 25 scene plates for backgrounds. 6 collages by harter, satty, singer, evans. introduction. 192pp. 8-7/8 ã� 11-3/4. 23659-5 pa. $5.00 manual of traditional wood carving, edited by paul n. hasluck. possibly the best book in english on the craft of wood carving. practical instructions, along with 1,146 working drawings and photographic illustrations. formerly titled _cassell's wood carving_. 576pp. 6-1/2 ã� 9-1/4. 23489-4 pa. $7.95 the principles and practice of hand or simple turning, john jacob holtzapffel. full coverage of basic lathe techniques--history and development, special apparatus, softwood turning, hardwood turning, metal turning. many projects--billiard ball, works formed within a sphere, egg cups, ash trays, vases, jardiniers, others--included. 1881 edition. 800 illustrations. 592pp. 6-1/8 ã� 9-1/4. 23365-0 clothbd. $15.00 the joy of handweaving, osma tod. only book you need for hand weaving. fundamentals, threads, weaves, plus numerous projects for small board-loom, two-harness, tapestry, laid-in, four-harness weaving and more. over 160 illustrations. 2nd revised edition. 352pp. 6-1/2 ã� 9-1/4. 23458-4 pa. $5.00 the book of wood carving, charles marshall sayers. still finest book for beginning student in wood sculpture. noted teacher, craftsman discusses fundamentals, technique; gives 34 designs, over 34 projects for panels, bookends, mirrors, etc. "absolutely first-rate"--e. j. tangerman. 33 photos. 118pp. 7-3/4 ã� 10-5/8. 23654-4 pa. $3.00 drawings of william blake, william blake. 92 plates from book of job, _divine comedy_, _paradise lost_, visionary heads, mythological figures, laocoon, etc. selection, introduction, commentary by sir geoffrey keynes. 178pp. 8-1/8 ã� 11. 22303-5 pa. $4.00 engravings of hogarth, william hogarth. 101 of hogarth's greatest works: _rake's progress_, _harlot's progress_, _illustrations for hudibras_, _before and after_, _beer street and gin lane_, many more. full commentary. 256pp. 11 ã� 13-3/4. 22479-1 pa. $7.95 daumier: 120 great lithographs, honore daumier. wide-ranging collection of lithographs by the greatest caricaturist of the 19th century. concentrates on eternally popular series on lawyers, on married life, on liberated women, etc. selection, introduction, and notes on plates by charles f. ramus. total of 158pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 23512-2 pa. $5.50 drawings of mucha, alphonse maria mucha. work reveals draftsman of highest caliber: studies for famous posters and paintings, renderings for book illustrations and ads, etc. 70 works, 9 in color; including 6 items not drawings. introduction. list of illustrations. 72pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. (available in u.s. only) 23672-2 pa. $4.00 giovanni battista piranesi: drawings in the pierpont morgan library, giovanni battista piranesi. for first time ever all of morgan library's collection, world's largest. 167 illustrations of rare piranesi drawings--archeological, architectural, decorative and visionary. essay, detailed list of drawings, chronology, captions. edited by felice stampfle. 144pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 23714-1 pa. $7.50 new york etchings (1905-1949), john sloan. all of important american artist's n.y. life etchings. 67 works include some of his best art; also lively historical record--greenwich village, tenement scenes. edited by sloan's widow. introduction and captions. 79pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 23651-x pa. $4.00 chinese painting and calligraphy: a pictorial survey, wan-go weng. 69 fine examples from john m. crawford's matchless private collection: landscapes, birds, flowers, human figures, etc., plus calligraphy. every basic form included: hanging scrolls, handscrolls, album leaves, fans, etc. 109 illustrations. introduction. captions. 192pp. 8-7/8 ã� 11-3/4. 23707-9 pa. $7.95 drawings of rembrandt, edited by seymour slive. updated lippmann, hofstede de groot edition, with definitive scholarly apparatus. all portraits, biblical sketches, landscapes, nudes, oriental figures, classical studies, together with selection of work by followers. 550 illustrations. total of 630pp. 9-1/8 ã� 12-1/4. 21485-0, 21486-9 pa., two-vol. set $15.00 the disasters of war, francisco goya. 83 etchings record horrors of napoleonic wars in spain and war in general. reprint of 1st edition, plus 3 additional plates. introduction by philip hofer. 97pp. 9-3/8 ã� 8-1/4. 21872-4 pa. $3.75 the early work of aubrey beardsley, aubrey beardsley. 157 plates, 2 in color: _manon lescaut_, _madame bovary_, _morte darthur_, _salome_, other. introduction by h. marillier. 182pp. 8-1/8 ã� 11. 21816-3 pa. $4.50 the later work of aubrey beardsley, aubrey beardsley. exotic masterpieces of full maturity: _venus and tannhauser_, _lysistrata_, _rape of the lock_, _volpone_, savoy material, etc. 174 plates, 2 in color. 186pp. 8-1/8 ã� 11. 21817-1 pa. $4.50 thomas nast's christmas drawings, thomas nast. almost all christmas drawings by creator of image of santa claus as we know it, and one of america's foremost illustrators and political cartoonists. 66 illustrations. 3 illustrations in color on covers. 96pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 23660-9 pa. $3.50 the dorã� illustrations for dante's divine comedy, gustave dorã©. all 135 plates from inferno, purgatory, paradise; fantastic tortures, infernal landscapes, celestial wonders. each plate with appropriate (translated) verses. 141pp. 9 ã� 12. 23231-x pa. $4.50 dorã�'s illustrations for rabelais, gustave dorã©. 252 striking illustrations of _gargantua and pantagruel_ books by foremost 19th-century illustrator. including 60 plates, 192 delightful smaller illustrations. 153pp. 9 ã� 12. 23656-0 pa. $5.00 london: a pilgrimage, gustave dorã©, blanchard jerrold. squalor, riches, misery, beauty of mid-victorian metropolis; 55 wonderful plates, 125 other illustrations, full social, cultural text by jerrold. 191pp. of text. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 22306-x pa. $6.00 the rime of the ancient mariner, gustave dorã©, s. t. coleridge. dorã©'s finest work, 34 plates capture moods, subtleties of poem. full text. introduction by millicent rose. 77pp. 9-1/4 ã� 12. 22305-1 pa. $3.50 the dorã� bible illustrations, gustave dorã©. all wonderful, detailed plates: adam and eve, flood, babylon, life of jesus, etc. brief king james text with each plate. introduction by millicent rose. 241 plates. 241pp. 9 ã� 12. 23004-x pa. $6.00 the complete engravings, etchings and drypoints of albrecht durer. "knight, death and devil"; "melencolia," and more--all dã¼rer's known works in all three media, including 6 works formerly attributed to him. 120 plates. 235pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 22851-7 pa. $6.50 maximilian's triumphal arch, albrecht dã¼rer and others. incredible monument of woodcut art: 8 foot high elaborate arch--heraldic figures, humans, battle scenes, fantastic elements--that you can assemble yourself. printed on one side, layout for assembly. 143pp. 11 ã� 16. 21451-6 pa. $5.00 the complete woodcuts of albrecht durer, edited by dr. w. kurth. 346 in all: "old testament," "st. jerome," "passion," "life of virgin," "apocalypse," many others. introduction by campbell dodgson. 285pp. 8-1/2 ã� 12-1/4. 21097-9 pa. $6.95 drawings of albrecht durer, edited by heinrich wolfflin. 81 plates show development from youth to full style. many favorites; many new. introduction by alfred werner. 96pp. 8-1/8 ã� 11. 22352-3 pa. $5.00 the human figure, albrecht dã¼rer. experiments in various techniques--stereometric, progressive proportional, and others. also life studies that rank among finest ever done. complete reprinting of _dresden sketchbook_. 170 plates. 355pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 21042-1 pa. $7.95 of the just shaping of letters, albrecht dã¼rer. renaissance artist explains design of roman majuscules by geometry, also gothic lower and capitals. grolier club edition. 43pp. 7-7/8 ã� 10-3/4 21306-4 pa. $3.00 ten books on architecture, vitruvius. the most important book ever written on architecture. early roman aesthetics, technology, classical orders, site selection, all other aspects. stands behind everything since. morgan translation. 331pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 20645-9 pa. $4.00 the four books of architecture, andrea palladio. 16th-century classic responsible for palladian movement and style. covers classical architectural remains, renaissance revivals, classical orders, etc. 1738 ware english edition. introduction by a. placzek. 216 plates. 110pp. of text. 9-1/2 ã� 12-3/4. 21308-0 pa. $8.95 horizons, norman bel geddes. great industrialist stage designer, "father of streamlining," on application of aesthetics to transportation, amusement, architecture, etc. 1932 prophetic account; function, theory, specific projects. 222 illustrations. 312pp. 7-7/8 ã� 10-3/4. 23514-9 pa. $6.95 frank lloyd wright's fallingwater, donald hoffmann. full, illustrated story of conception and building of wright's masterwork at bear run, pa. 100 photographs of site, construction, and details of completed structure. 112pp. 9-1/4 ã� 10. 23671-4 pa. $5.00 the elements of drawing, john ruskin. timeless classic by great viltorian; starts with basic ideas, works through more difficult. many practical exercises. 48 illustrations. introduction by lawrence campbell. 228pp, 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 22730-8 pa. $2.75 gist of art, john sloan. greatest modern american teacher, art students league, offers innumerable hints, instructions, guided comments to help you in painting. not a formal course. 46 illustrations. introduction by helen sloan. 200pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23435-5 pa. $3.50 the anatomy of the horse, george stubbs. often considered the great masterpiece of animal anatomy. full reproduction of 1766 edition, plus prospectus; original text and modernized text. 36 plates. introduction by eleanor garvey. 121pp. 11 ã� 14-3/4. 23402-9 pa. $6.00 bridgman's life drawing, george b. bridgman. more than 500 illustrative drawings and text teach you to abstract the body into its major masses, use light and shade, proportion; as well as specific areas of anatomy, of which bridgman is master. 192pp. 6-1/2 ã� 9-1/4. (available in u.s. only) 22710-3 pa. $3.00 art nouveau designs in color, alphonse mucha, maurice verneuil, georges auriol. full-color reproduction of _combinaisons ornementales_ (c. 1900) by art nouveau masters. floral, animal, geometric, interlacings, swashes--borders, frames, spots--all incredibly beautiful. 60 plates, hundreds of designs. 9-3/8 ã� 8-1/16. 22885-1 pa. $4.00 full-color floral designs in the art nouveau style, e. a. seguy. 166 motifs, on 40 plates, from _les fleurs et leurs applications decoratives_ (1902): borders, circular designs, repeats, allovers, "spots." all in authentic art nouveau colors. 48pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 23439-8 pa. $5.00 a diderot pictorial encyclopedia of trades and industry, edited by charles c. gillispie. 485 most interesting plates from the great french encyclopedia of the 18th century show hundreds of working figures, artifacts, process, land and cityscapes; glassmaking, papermaking, metal extraction, construction, weaving, making furniture, clothing, wigs, dozens of other activities. plates fully explained. 920pp. 9 ã� 12. 22284-5, 22285-3 clothbd., two-vol. set $40.00 handbook of early advertising art, clarence p. hornung. largest collection of copyright-free early and antique advertising art ever compiled. over 6,000 illustrations, from franklin's time to the 1890's for special effects, novelty. valuable source, almost inexhaustible. pictorial volume. agriculture, the zodiac, animals, autos, birds, christmas, fire engines, flowers, trees, musical instruments, ships, games and sports, much more. arranged by subject matter and use. 237 plates. 288pp. 9 ã� 12. 20122-8 clothbd. $13.50 typographical volume. roman and gothic faces ranging from 10 point to 300 point, "barnum," german and old english faces, script, logotypes, scrolls and flourishes, 1115 ornamental initials, 67 complete alphabets, more. 310 plates. 320pp. 9 ã� 12. 20123-6 clothbd. $15.00 calligraphy (calligraphia latina), j. g. schwandner. high point of 18th-century ornamental calligraphy. very ornate initials, scrolls, borders, cherubs, birds, lettered examples. 172pp. 9 ã� 13. 20475-8 pa. $6.00 art forms in nature, ernst haeckel. multitude of strangely beautiful natural forms: radiolaria, foraminifera, jellyfishes, fungi, turtles, bats, etc. all 100 plates of the 19th-century evolutionist's _kunstformen der natur_ (1904). 100pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 22987-4 pa. $4.50 children: a pictorial archive from nineteenth-century sources, edited by carol belanger grafton. 242 rare, copyright-free wood engravings for artists and designers. widest such selection available. all illustrations in line. 119pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 23694-3 pa. $3.50 women: a pictorial archive from nineteenth-century sources, edited by jim harter. 391 copyright-free wood engravings for artists and designers selected from rare periodicals. most extensive such collection available. all illustrations in line. 128pp. 9 ã� 12. 23703-6 pa. $4.50 arabic art in color, prisse d'avennes. from the greatest ornamentalists of all time--50 plates in color, rarely seen outside the near east, rich in suggestion and stimulus. includes 4 plates on covers. 46pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 23658-7 pa. $6.00 authentic algerian carpet designs and motifs, edited by june beveridge. algerian carpets are world famous. dozens of geometrical motifs are charted on grids, color-coded, for weavers, needleworkers, craftsmen, designers. 53 illustrations plus 4 in color. 48pp. 8-1/4 ã� 11. (available in u.s. only) 23650-1 pa. $1.75 dictionary of american portraits, edited by hayward and blanche cirker. 4000 important americans, earliest times to 1905, mostly in clear line. politicians, writers, soldiers, scientists, inventors, industrialists, indians, blacks, women, outlaws, etc. identificatory information. 756pp. 9-1/4 ã� 12-3/4. 21823-6 clothbd. $40.00 how the other half lives, jacob a. riis. journalistic record of filth, degradation, upward drive in new york immigrant slums, shops, around 1900. new edition includes 100 original riis photos, monuments of early photography. 233pp. 10 ã� 7-7/8. 22012-5 pa. $6.00 new york in the thirties, berenice abbott. noted photographer's fascinating study of city shows new buildings that have become famous and old sights that have disappeared forever. insightful commentary. 97 photographs. 97pp. 11-3/8 ã� 10. 22967-x pa. $5.00 men at work, lewis w. hine. famous photographic studies of construction workers, railroad men, factory workers and coal miners. new supplement of 18 photos on empire state building construction. new introduction by jonathan l. doherty. total of 69 photos. 63pp. 8 ã� 10-3/4. 23475-4 pa. $3.00 the depression years as photographed by arthur rothstein, arthur rothstein. first collection devoted entirely to the work of outstanding 1930s photographer: famous dust storm photo, ragged children, unemployed, etc. 120 photographs. captions. 119pp. 9-1/4 ã� 10-3/4. 23590-4 pa. $5.00 camera work: a pictorial guide, alfred stieglitz. all 559 illustrations and plates from the most important periodical in the history of art photography, _camera work_ (1903-17). presented four to a page, reduced in size but still clear, in strict chronological order, with complete captions. three indexes. glossary. bibliography. 176pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 23591-2 pa. $6.95 alvin langdon coburn, photographer, alvin l. coburn. revealing autobiography by one of greatest photographers of 20th century gives insider's version of photo-secession, plus comments on his own work. 77 photographs by coburn. edited by helmut and alison gernsheim. 160pp. 8-1/8 ã� 11. 23685-4 pa. $6.00 new york in the forties, andreas feininger. 162 brilliant photographs by the well-known photographer, formerly with _life_ magazine, show commuters, shoppers, times square at night, harlem nightclub, lower east side, etc. introduction and full captions by john von hartz. 181pp. 9-1/14 ã� 10-3/4. 23585-8 pa. $6.00 great news photos and the stories behind them, john faber. dramatic volume of 140 great news photos, 1855 through 1976, and revealing stories behind them, with both historical and technical information. hindenburg disaster, shooting of oswald, nomination of jimmy carter, etc. 160pp. 8-1/4 ã� 11. 23667-6 pa. $5.00 the art of the cinematographer, leonard martin. survey of american cinematography history and anecdotal interviews with 5 masters--arthur miller, hal mohr, hal rosson, lucien ballard, and conrad hall. very large selection of behind-the-scenes production photos. 105 photographs. filmographies. index. originally _behind the camera_. 144pp. 8-1/4 ã� 11. 23686-2 pa. $5.00 designs for the three-cornered hat (le tricorne), pablo picasso. 32 fabulously rare drawings--including 31 color illustrations of costumes and accessories--for 1919 production of famous ballet. edited by parmenia migel, who has written new introduction. 48pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. (available in u.s. only) 23709-5 pa. $5.00 notes of a film director, sergei eisenstein. greatest russian filmmaker explains montage, making of _alexander nevsky_, aesthetics; comments on self, associates, great rivals (chaplin), similar material. 78 illustrations. 240pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 22392-2 pa. $4.50 hollywood glamour portraits, edited by john kobal. 145 photos capture the stars from 1926-49, the high point in portrait photography. gable, harlow, bogart, bacall, hedy lamarr, marlene dietrich, robert montgomery, marlon brando, veronica lake; 94 stars in all. full background on photographers, technical aspects, much more. total of 160pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 23352-9 pa. $5.00 the new york stage: famous productions in photographs, edited by stanley appelbaum. 148 photographs from museum of city of new york show 142 plays, 1883-1939. _peter pan_, _the front page_, _dead end_, _our town_, o'neill, hundreds of actors and actresses, etc. full indexes. 154pp. 9-1/2 ã� 10. 23241-7 pa. $6.00 masters of the drama, john gassner. most comprehensive history of the drama, every tradition from greeks to modern europe and america, including orient. covers 800 dramatists, 2000 plays; biography, plot summaries, criticism, theatre history, etc. 77 illustrations. 890pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 20100-7 clothbd. $10.00 the great opera stars in historic photographs, edited by james camner. 343 portraits from the 1850s to the 1940s: tamburini, mario, caliapin, jeritza, melchior, melba, patti, pinza, schipa, caruso, farrar, steber, gobbi, and many more--270 performers in all. index. 199pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 23575-0 pa. $6.50 j. s. bach, albert schweitzer. great full-length study of bach, life, background to music, music, by foremost modern scholar. ernest newman translation. 650 musical examples. total of 928pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/4. (available in u.s. only) 21631-4, 21632-2 pa., two-vol. set $10.00 complete piano sonatas, ludwig van beethoven. all sonatas in the fine schenker edition, with fingering, analytical material. one of best modern editions. total of 615pp. 9 ã� 12. (available in u.s. only) 23134-8, 23135-6 pa., two-vol. set $15.00 keyboard music, j. s. bach. bach-gesellschaft edition. for harpsichord, piano, other keyboard instruments. english suites, french suites, six partitas, goldberg variations, two-part inventions, three-part sinfonias. 312pp. 8-1/8 ã� 11. (available in u.s. only) 22360-4 pa. $6.00 four symphonies in full score, franz schubert. schubert's four most popular symphonies: no. 4 in c minor ("tragic"); no. 5 in b-flat major; no. 8 in b minor ("unfinished"); no. 9 in c major ("great"). breitkopf & hartel edition. study score. 261pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 23681-1 pa. $6.50 the authentic gilbert & sullivan songbook, w. s. gilbert, a. s. sullivan. largest selection available; 92 songs, uncut, original keys, in piano rendering approved by sullivan. favorites and lesser-known fine numbers. edited with plot synopses by james spero. 3 illustrations. 399pp. 9 ã� 12. 23482-7 pa. $7.95 principles of orchestration, nikolay rimsky-korsakov. great classical orchestrator provides fundamentals of tonal resonance, progression of parts, voice and orchestra, tutti effects, much else in major document. 330pp. of musical excerpts. 489pp. 6-1/2 ã� 9-1/4. 21266-1 pa. $6.00 tristan und isolde, richard wagner. full orchestral score with complete instrumentation. do not confuse with piano reduction. commentary by felix mottl, great wagnerian conductor and scholar. study score. 655pp. 8-1/8 ã� 11. 22915-7 pa. $12.50 requiem in full score, giuseppe verdi. immensely popular with choral groups and music lovers. republication of edition published by c. f. peters, leipzig, n. d. german frontmaker in english translation. glossary. text in latin. study score. 204pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 23682-x pa. $6.00 complete chamber music for strings, felix mendelssohn. all of mendelssohn's chamber music: octet, 2 quintets, 6 quartets, and four pieces for string quartet. (nothing with piano is included). complete works edition (1874-7). study score. 283 pp. 9-3/8 ã� 12-1/4. 23679-x pa. $6.95 popular songs of nineteenth-century america, edited by richard jackson. 64 most important songs: "old oaken bucket," "arkansas traveler," "yellow rose of texas," etc. authentic original sheet music, full introduction and commentaries. 290pp. 9 ã� 12. 23270-0 pa. $6.00 collected piano works, scott joplin. edited by vera brodsky lawrence. practically all of joplin's piano works--rags, two-steps, marches, waltzes, etc., 51 works in all. extensive introduction by rudi blesh. total of 345pp. 9 ã� 12. 23106-2 pa. $14.95 basic principles of classical ballet, agrippina vaganova. great russian theoretician, teacher explains methods for teaching classical ballet; incorporates best from french, italian, russian schools. 118 illustrations. 175pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 22036-2 pa. $2.50 chinese characters, l. wieger. rich analysis of 2300 characters according to traditional systems into primitives. historical-semantic analysis to phonetics (classical mandarin) and radicals. 820pp. 6-1/8 ã� 9-1/4. 21321-8 pa. $10.00 egyptian language: easy lessons in egyptian hieroglyphics, e. a. wallis budge. foremost egyptologist offers egyptian grammar, explanation of hieroglyphics, many reading texts, dictionary of symbols. 246pp. 5 ã� 7-1/2. (available in u.s. only) 21394-3 clothbd. $7.50 an etymological dictionary of modern english, ernest weekley. richest, fullest work, by foremost british lexicographer. detailed word histories. inexhaustible. do not confuse this with _concise etymological dictionary_, which is abridged. total of 856pp. 6-1/2 ã� 9-1/4. 21873-2, 21874-0 pa., two-vol. set $12.00 a maya grammar, alfred m. tozzer. practical, useful english-language grammar by the harvard anthropologist who was one of the three greatest american scholars in the area of maya culture. phonetics, grammatical processes, syntax, more. 301pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23465-7 pa. $4.00 the journal of henry d. thoreau, edited by bradford torrey, f. h. allen. complete reprinting of 14 volumes, 1837-61, over two million words; the sourcebooks for _walden_, etc. definitive. all original sketches, plus 75 photographs. introduction by walter harding. total of 1804pp. 8-1/2 ã� 12-1/4. 20312-3, 20313-1 clothbd., two-vol. set $50.00 classic ghost stories, charles dickens and others. 18 wonderful stories you've wanted to reread: "the monkey's paw," "the house and the brain," "the upper berth," "the signalman," "dracula's guest," "the tapestried chamber," etc. dickens, scott, mary shelley, stoker, etc. 330pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 20735-8 pa. $3.50 seven science fiction novels, h. g. wells. full novels. _first men in the moon_, _island of dr. moreau_, _war of the worlds_, _food of the gods_, _invisible man_, _time machine_, _in the days of the comet_. a basic science-fiction library. 1015pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. (available in u.s. only) 20264-x clothbd. $8.95 armadale, wilkie collins. third great mystery novel by the author of _the woman in white_ and _the moonstone_. ingeniously plotted narrative shows an exceptional command of character, incident and mood. original magazine version with 40 illustrations. 597pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23429-0 pa. $5.00 masters of mystery, h. douglas thomson. the first book in english (1931) devoted to history and aesthetics of detective story. poe, doyle, lefanu, dickens, many others, up to 1930. new introduction and notes by e. f. bleiler. 288pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. (available in u.s. only) 23606-4 pa. $4.00 flatland, e. a. abbott. science-fiction classic explores life of 2-d being in 3-d world. read also as introduction to thought about hyperspace. introduction by banesh hoffmann. 16 illustrations. 103pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 20001-9 pa. $1.75 three supernatural novels of the victorian period, edited, with an introduction, by e. f. bleiler. reprinted complete and unabridged, three great classics of the supernatural: _the haunted hotel_ by wilkie collins, _the haunted house at latchford_ by mrs. j. h. riddell, and _the lost stradivarious_ by j. meade falkner. 325pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 22571-2 pa. $4.00 ayesha: the return of "she," h. rider haggard. virtuoso sequel featuring the great mythic creation, ayesha, in an adventure that is fully as good as the first book, _she_. original magazine version, with 47 original illustrations by maurice greiffenhagen. 189pp. 6-1/2 ã� 9-1/4. 23649-8 pa. $3.50 uncle silas, j. sheridan lefanu. victorian gothic mystery novel, considered by many best of period, even better than collins or dickens. wonderful psychological terror. introduction by frederick shroyer. 436pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 21715-9 pa. $6.00 jurgen, james branch cabell. the great erotic fantasy of the 1920's that delighted thousands, shocked thousands more. full final text, lane edition with 13 plates by frank pape. 346pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23507-6 pa. $4.50 the claverings, anthony trollope. major novel, chronicling aspects of british victorian society, personalities. reprint of cornhill serialization, 16 plates by m. edwards; first reprint of full text. introduction by norman donaldson. 412pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23464-9 pa. $5.00 kept in the dark, anthony trollope. unusual short novel about victorian morality and abnormal psychology by the great english author. probably the first american publication. frontispiece by sir john millais. 92pp. 6-1/2 ã� 9-1/2. 23609-9 pa. $2.50 ralph the heir, anthony trollope. forgotten tale of illegitimacy, inheritance. master novel of trollope's later years. victorian country estates, clubs, parliament, fox hunting, world of fully realized characters. reprint of 1871 edition. 12 illustrations by f. a. faser. 434pp. of text. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23642-0 pa. $5.00 yekl and the imported bridegroom and other stories of the new york ghetto, abraham cahan. film _hester street_ based on _yekl_ (1896). novel, other stories among first about jewish immigrants of n.y.'s east side. highly praised by w. d. howells--cahan "a new star of realism." new introduction by bernard g. richards. 240pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 22427-9 pa. $3.50 the high place, james branch cabell. great fantasy writer's enchanting comedy of disenchantment set in 18th-century france. considered by some critics to be even better than his famous _jurgen_. 10 illustrations and numerous vignettes by noted fantasy artist frank c. pape. 320pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23670-6 pa. $4.00 alice's adventures under ground, lewis carroll. facsimile of ms. carroll gave alice liddell in 1864. different in many ways from final alice. handlettered, illustrated by carroll. introduction by martin gardner. 128pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 21482-6 pa. $2.00 favorite andrew lang fairy tale books in many colors, andrew lang. the four lang favorites in a boxed set--the complete _red_, _green_, _yellow_ and _blue_ fairy books. 164 stories; 439 illustrations by lancelot speed, henry ford and g. p. jacomb hood. total of about 1500pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23407-x boxed set, pa. $14.95 household stories by the brothers grimm. all the great grimm stories: "rumpelstiltskin," "snow white," "hansel and gretel," etc., with 114 illustrations by walter crane. 269pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 21080-4 pa. $3.00 sleeping beauty, illustrated by arthur rackham. perhaps the fullest, most delightful version ever, told by c. s. evans. rackham's best work. 49 illustrations. 110pp. 7-7/8 ã� 10-3/4. 22756-1 pa. $2.50 american fairy tales, l. frank baum. young cowboy lassoes father time; dummy in mr. floman's department store window comes to life; and 10 other fairy tales. 41 illustrations by n. p. hall, harry kennedy, ike morgan, and ralph gardner. 209pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23643-9 pa. $3.00 the wonderful wizard of oz, l. frank baum. facsimile in full color of america's finest children's classic. introduction by martin gardner. 143 illustrations by w. w. denslow. 267pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 20691-2 pa. $3.50 the tale of peter rabbit, beatrix potter. the inimitable peter's terrifying adventure in mr. mcgregor's garden, with all 27 wonderful, full-color potter illustrations. 55pp. 4-1/4 ã� 5-1/2. (available in u.s. only) 22827-4 pa. $1.25 the story of king arthur and his knights, howard pyle. finest children's version of life of king arthur. 48 illustrations by pyle. 131pp. 6-1/8 ã� 9-1/4. 21445-1 pa. $4.95 caruso's caricatures, enrico caruso. great tenor's remarkable caricatures of self, fellow musicians, composers, others. toscanini, puccini, farrar, etc. impish, cutting, insightful. 473 illustrations. preface by m. sisca. 217pp. 8-3/8 ã� 11-1/4. 23528-9 pa. $6.95 personal narrative of a pilgrimage to almadinah and meccah, richard burton. great travel classic by remarkably colorful personality. burton, disguised as a moroccan, visited sacred shrines of islam, narrowly escaping death. wonderful observations of islamic life, customs, personalities. 47 illustrations. total of 959pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 21217-3, 21218-1 pa., two-vol. set $12.00 incidents of travel in yucatan, john l. stephens. classic (1843) exploration of jungles of yucatan, looking for evidences of maya civilization. travel adventures, mexican and indian culture, etc. total of 669pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 20926-1, 20927-x pa., two-vol. set $7.90 american literary autographs from washington irving to henry james, herbert cahoon, et al. letters, poems, manuscripts of hawthorne, thoreau, twain, alcott, whitman, 67 other prominent american authors. reproductions, full transcripts and commentary. plus checklist of all american literary autographs in the pierpont morgan library. printed on exceptionally high-quality paper. 136 illustrations. 212pp. 9-1/8 ã� 12-1/4. 23548-3 pa. $7.95 yucatan before and after the conquest, diego de landa. first english translation of basic book in maya studies, the only significant account of yucatan written in the early post-conquest era. translated by distinguished maya scholar william gates. appendices, introduction, 4 maps and over 120 illustrations added by translator. 162pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23622-6 pa. $3.00 the malay archipelago, alfred r. wallace. spirited travel account by one of founders of modern biology. touches on zoology, botany, ethnography, geography, and geology. 62 illustrations, maps. 515pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 20187-2 pa. $6.95 the discovery of the tomb of tutankhamen, howard carter, a. c. mace. accompany carter in the thrill of discovery, as ruined passage suddenly reveals unique, untouched, fabulously rich tomb. fascinating account, with 106 illustrations. new introduction by j. m. white. total of 382pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. (available in u.s. only) 23500-9 pa. $4.00 the world's greatest speeches, edited by lewis copeland and lawrence w. lamm. vast collection of 278 speeches from greeks up to present. powerful and effective models; unique look at history. revised to 1970. indices. 842pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 20468-5 pa. $8.95 the 100 greatest advertisements, julian watkins. the priceless ingredient; his master's voice; 99-44/100% pure; over 100 others. how they were written, their impact, etc. remarkable record. 130 illustrations. 233pp. 7-7/8 ã� 10-3/5. 20540-1 pa. $5.00 cruickshank prints for hand coloring, george cruickshank. 18 illustrations, one side of a page, on fine-quality paper suitable for watercolors. caricatures of people in society (c. 1820) full of trenchant wit. very large format. 32pp. 11 ã� 16. 23684-6 pa. $5.00 thirty-two color postcards of twentieth-century american art, whitney museum of american art. reproduced in full color in postcard form are 31 art works and one shot of the museum. calder, hopper, rauschenberg, others. detachable. 16pp. 8-1/4 ã� 11. 23629-3 pa. $2.50 music of the spheres: the material universe from atom to quasar simply explained, guy murchie. planets, stars, geology, atoms, radiation, relativity, quantum theory, light, antimatter, similar topics. 319 figures. 664pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 21809-0, 21810-4 pa., two-vol. set $10.00 einstein's theory of relativity, max born. finest semi-technical account; covers einstein, lorentz, minkowski, and others, with much detail, much explanation of ideas and math not readily available elsewhere on this level. for student, non-specialist. 376pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 60769-0 pa. $4.50 american antique furniture, edgar g. miller, jr. the basic coverage of all american furniture before 1840: chapters per item chronologically cover all types of furniture, with more than 2100 photos. total of 1106pp. 7-7/8 ã� 10-3/4. 21599-7, 21600-4 pa., two-vol. set $17.90 illustrated guide to shaker furniture, robert meader. director, shaker museum, old chatham, presents up-to-date coverage of all furniture and appurtenances, with much on local styles not available elsewhere. 235 photos. 146pp. 9 ã� 12. 22819-3 pa. $5.00 oriental rugs, antique and modern, walter a. hawley. persia, turkey, caucasus, central asia, china, other traditions. best general survey of all aspects: styles and periods, manufacture, uses, symbols and their interpretation, and identification. 96 illustrations, 11 in color. 320pp. 6-1/8 ã� 9-1/4. 22366-3 pa. $6.95 chinese pottery and porcelain, r. l. hobson. detailed descriptions and analyses by former keeper of the department of oriental antiquities and ethnography at the british museum. covers hundreds of pieces from primitive times to 1915. still the standard text for most periods. 136 plates, 40 in full color. total of 750pp. 5-3/8 ã� 8-1/2. 23253-0 pa. $10.00 the wares of the ming dynasty, r. l. hobson. foremost scholar examines and illustrates many varieties of ming (1368-1644). famous blue and white, polychrome, lesser-known styles and shapes. 117 illustrations, 9 full color, of outstanding pieces. total of 263pp. 6-1/8 ã� 9-1/4. (available in u.s. only) 23652-8 pa. $6.00 _prices subject to change without notice._ available at your book dealer or write for free catalogue to dept. gi, dover publications, inc., 180 varick st., n.y., n.y. 10014. dover publishes more than 175 books each year on science, elementary and advanced mathematics, biology, music, art, literary history, social sciences and other areas. life histories of north american birds arthur cleveland bent life histories of north american birds of prey. (20931 20932-6) two-volume $12.00 life histories of north american blackbirds, orioles, tanagers, and their allies. (21093-6) $7.95 life histories of north american cardinals, grosbeaks, buntings, towhees, finches, sparrows, and their allies. (21977-1, 21978-x, 21979-8) three-volume set $23.85 life histories of north american cuckoos, goatsuckers, hummingbirds, and their allies. (21224-6, 21225-4) two-volume set $8.00 life histories of north american diving birds. (21091-x) $4.00 life histories of north american flycatchers, larks, swallows, and their allies. (21090-1) $7.50 life histories of north american gallinaceous birds,. (21028-6) $8.00 life histories of north american gulls and terns. (21029-4) $5.50 life histories of north american jays, crows, and titmice. (21222-x, 21223-8) two-volume set $9.00 life histories of north american marsh birds. (21082-0) $5.00 life histories of north american nuthatches, wrens, thrashers, and their allies. (21088-x) $7.00 life histories of north american petrels and pelicans and their allies. (21087-1) $5.00 life histories of north american shore birds. (20933-4, 20934-2) two-volume set life histories of north american thrushes, kinglets, and their allies. (21086-3) $6.00 life histories of north american wagtails, shrikes, vireos, and their allies. (21085-5) $6.00 life histories of north american wild fowl. (20285-2, 20286-0) two-volume set $10.00 life histories of north american woodpeckers. (21083-9) $5.00 life histories of north american wood warblers. (21153-3, 21154-1) two-volume set $10.00 paperbound unless otherwise indicated. prices subject to change without notice. available at your book dealer or write for free catalogues to dept. nature, dover publications, inc., 180 varick street, new york, n.y. 10014. please indicate field of interest. each year dover publishes over 200 books on fine art, music, crafts and needlework, antiques, languages, literature, children's books, chess, cookery, nature, anthropology, science, mathematics, and other areas. _manufactured in the u.s.a._ transcriber's notes: different spelling of resume (verb) and rã©sumã© (noun) remains unchanged because of different meaning. gesperrt text marked as: _= ... =_ the letter e with macron has been represented by [=e] 