A Book of Nimble Beasts

A Book of Nimble Beasts
Douglas English

Douglas English

A Book of Nimble Beasts / Bunny Rabbit, Squirrel, Toad, and «Those Sort of People»

He held himself with an air, his body arched, one broad white pad uplifted, his tail curved decorously.—In Weasel Wood.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

THE publisher may, perhaps, be allowed to call the reader's attention to the illustrations—particularly to the two of the Sand-Wasps, reproduced in colour. The difficulties of photographing from wild life active creatures of such small dimensions as hymenopterous insects are very great from an optical standpoint. The picture of Spinipes bringing the beetle grub to her tube took several years to accomplish successfully, and the strain involved by the conditions, a blazing June sun on the operator's back, an uncertain foothold, and the necessity of keeping the attention riveted for hours on one particular patch of sunlit sand, was exceptional. It is of course possible, probable even, that with the introduction of an improved lens system, which will enable fast exposures to be made at very short range on minute moving objects, this particular picture may be repeated and improved upon. But the odds against the second picture on the same page, that of Spinipes stinging the jewel-fly, ever being repeated, are enormous. It will be necessary in order to secure the repetition of such a picture, first, that the camera shall be focussed on one out of a score of tubes; second, that the parasitic jewel-fly shall enter that particular tube; third, that the Owner Wasp shall return while the jewel-fly is below; fourth, that the Owner Wasp shall pull the jewel-fly to the surface; fifth, that the jewel-fly shall cling to the rim of the tube; sixth, that the Wasp shall sting it in this position—it will be noticed that the sting is directed at the junction of the thorax and abdomen; seventh, that the observer shall be ready to expose his plate at the exact psychological moment; and eighth, that he shall succeed in doing so. The first six conditions were, in Mr. English's case, fulfilled by chance. As regards the seventh he was unready. He was, in fact, some feet below his camera. But chance befriended him still further.

He caught the jewel-fly's glint, and caught the shadow of the returning Wasp. He flung his arm up, grabbed the dangling bulb, and pressed at random. This action dragged the camera from its moorings—to fix a camera on a Sand Cliff's side is no slight task—and it fell twelve feet down. Yet it had done its work and made the picture.

There are a score of pictures in this book, which are believed to be unique, not only by reason of the rarity of their subjects, but also by reason of the fact that they are the only pictures of such subjects, good or bad, in existence. The most remarkable among them is the picture of Spinipes stinging the jewel-fly.

INTRODUCTION

I KNOW a Boy Scout who has never seen a weasel. Many weasels, I fancy, must have seen that Boy Scout.

And I know a Girl who has never seen a Harvest Mouse, but who might have, often.

There may be other boys and girls like these. There may be grown-ups also.

It is for them that I have written this book. It is to them that I offer its pictures.

I would lead them (with hushed voices and quiet feet) into God's Under-World; a World of queer small happenings; of sparkling eyes and vanishing tails; a whispering, rustling World.

I would have them, whatever their age be, approach this World as children. For children's eyes are closest to the ground.

    Douglas English

Hawley, Dartford, 1910

SOMETHING ABOUT BATS

(JANUARY)

Natterer's Bat

The best-looking Bat in Britain

YOU must all, I think, have seen Bats flying, or, at any rate, pictures of Bats flying, and you must all know that they are night, or twilight, beasties, though some of our English kinds fly about in broad daylight more often than most people think. But do you all know that they are the only four-footed creatures that really fly—for they are four-footed though they don't look it; and do you all know that there are, probably, more different kinds of Bats in England than there are different kinds of any other beastie; and that they are the very ugliest of British Beasties, taking them altogether; and that they all have very small eyes—which is a queer thing for twilight beasties to have; owls, of course, and dormice have very big eyes—and that they have either very wonderful ears, or very wonderful noses, but not both together? If you don't know all this, perhaps you would like to hear more.

The Lesser Horseshoe Bat

You can see his nose-leaf, shaped like a horseshoe, very well in this picture. Both the Greater and Lesser Horseshoe Bats are wonderfully neat fliers

We had better, I think, begin with a Bat's wings, for, when we have learnt something about these, we may perhaps get some notion as to why a Bat is more clever in the air than a bird, and far, far more clever than a flying machine, worked by a human brain, is at present. The reason why a Bat is a cleverer, I don't mean a stronger, flier than a bird, is a reason which you young people will find to be a very common one, if ever you try your hand at guessing Mother Nature's riddles. It is simply this—that he has to be. A Bat has to catch his food, tiny food mostly, in the air, and he has to catch it in a bad light, and, as far as we can tell, though we cannot be sure of this, his eyesight is not as good as, say, a swallow's eyesight. This means that he has had to pick up a wonderful quickness in checking his own flight, and in turning sharp in the air, almost head over heels sometimes, and in diving, and in soaring up again. To do all these things well he has had to be built in a very special way, and I will try to explain to you how he has been built by comparing a Bat with one of ourselves, for you must remember that a Bat belongs to the same great order of living creatures as we do, and that a Bat is much more like a human being than a bird is.

The Noctule

You can see one earlet quite plainly, and his eye "starting out of his head"

Let us fancy, then, a small boy being turned into a Bat. The first thing that would have to happen would be that his legs would have to be bent at the knees, and shrunk until they were as thin as sticks. Then they would have to be twisted right and left until the knee-caps faced the wrong way about. His arms would have to be shrunk too, and his fore-arms would have to be stretched until they were twice their natural length, and his middle-fingers would have to be about a yard long, and his other fingers nearly a yard long also. His thumb might be left as it was, but it would have to have a strong claw at the end of it. In between his fingers, and joining his arms to his body, and stretching down to his legs, and joining his legs together, there would have to be a web of skin, and then, perhaps, if his chest was brought well forward like a pigeon's, and his head pressed well back until it stopped between his shoulders, he might, if his muscles were strong enough, and the whole of him was light enough, be able to fly.

The Noctule

One of our largest Bats. He is sometimes more than a foot across the wings, and his brown fur is as velvety as a Mole's—when he feels quite well

Lesser Horseshoe Bat

He is hanging head downwards, and beginning to wrap himself up in his wings before going to sleep

Now about a Bat's eyes. I have already told you that these are very small—at least they look very small in our English Bats—and that it does not seem likely that Bats possess the wonderful eyesight, which one would expect them to have. In some cases the eyes are so curiously placed in the head that the Bat can hardly be able to see straight in front of him at all. In the Leaf-nosed Bats, for instance, you can only just see the Bat's eyes when you look at him full face, because his leaf-nose all but hides them—you can see what I mean from the pictures—and in the case of one rare little bat, the Barbastelle, the eyes are set so far back that part of the ear comes round them like a horse's blinkers; and one can hardly imagine his being able to see much sideways, even if he can see quite well in front. There is just one little thing, however, which I have noticed in a large Bat called the Noctule, and this may mean that Bats have better eyesight than one would at first suppose. The Noctule can make his own eyes "start out of his head," until they seem to be almost twice as large as usual. If all Bats can do this it is quite likely that very few people have seen their eyes properly at all; that is, have seen them as they really appear, when the Bats are chasing moths in the twilight.

THE GREATER HORSESHOE—A PIG THAT DOES FLY

The Long-eared Bat

His ears are more than twice as long as his head, and beautifully pink and transparent when seen in the right light

The Greater Horseshoe Bat

Hanging head downwards. Except when he is flying he always carries his tail cocked up over his back, as you see it.

I think I will leave the pictures to show you the ugliness of Bats generally, though I have purposely put one picture in to show you that all Bats are not ugly—for I am sure you will agree with me that the little white-fronted Natterer's Bat, has quite a pretty face. I must tell you a little more, though, about Bats' ears and noses.

When we were turning, in imagination, our small boy into a Bat, we did not trouble ourselves about his ears and nose, but we ought to have done so, for there are some very wonderful differences between Bats' ears and noses, and the ears and noses of human beings. If you will look at anybody's ear carefully you will see that in front of, and just a little below the ear-hole, there is a small lump of flesh which points backwards across the opening. It is not much to look at in a human being, and does not seem to serve any particular purpose, but in many Bats it is evidently very important, for it is quite large and takes all sorts of curious shapes. It is called the "earlet." Sometimes it is pointed, sometimes square, and sometimes rounded. Sometimes it is long and thin and tapering like a dagger, and sometimes it is short and thick and blunted like a kidney-bean. You will see several of its different shapes in the pictures, and you will also see that the leaf-nosed Bats, who have such queer ornaments on their noses, do not have it all. Now some wise folk think that the ornament on the face of a leaf-nosed Bat, which makes him appear so very ugly to our ideas (though I have no doubt his wife thinks it very beautiful) may give him a kind of sixth sense which is neither seeing, nor smelling, nor hearing, nor feeling, nor tasting: a sense, that is, like that which blind people often seem to possess and which helps them, poor souls, through their world of darkness. If this is so (but you must remember that we can only guess about it), it may be that the earlets of Bats do much the same, and that, therefore, Bats with earlets have no need of leaf-noses, and Bats with leaf-noses have no need of earlets.

The Pipistrille

A small Bat and one of the commonest

SOMETHING ABOUT TADPOLES

(FEBRUARY)

This is Toad's Spawn, which is laid in "Ropes"

HOW many of you can tell me the difference between a frog-tadpole and a toad-tadpole? I don't mean when they are so small that it seems a kindness to call them tadpoles at all, but when they are quite a good size, with great fat heads and shiny little eyes and squiggly little tails. And how many of you can tell me the number of different kinds of tadpoles which one can find in England in the springtime? Most of you, I am sure, know a tadpole when you see one (sometimes he is called "pot-ladle,"or "polly-wog," or "horse-nail,") and some of you may know that a fat frog-tadpole is brown with little specks of gold, while a fat toad-tadpole is black all over; but I don't expect many of you know that there are two kinds of frog-tadpole, and two kinds of toad-tadpole, and three kinds of newt-tadpole, to be met with in England, which makes seven kinds of tadpoles in all.

Now as these seven little tadpoles are all different from one another (though the two frog-tadpoles and the two toad-tadpoles are not very different), we may be quite sure that they grow up into seven different little beasties. I am going to tell you something about the frog- and toad-tadpoles now and leave the newt-tadpoles for another time, for it will be easier for you if you don't have too much to remember at once.

If you go into the country in springtime (the middle of March is the best time where I live, but in other places it may be a little earlier or a little later) and find a pond, or a brook which runs quite slowly, or even a hole in swampy ground which has water in it, you are almost sure to see a lump of stuff which looks like dirty grey jelly, either close to the bank or on the top of some of the weeds.

If you pick up a little of this, you will find (perhaps before it has slipped out of your fingers and perhaps after) that it is full of round black eggs.

This is Frog's Spawn Floating on the Water