Birds and all Nature, Vol. IV, No. 3, September 1898

"A sly dog."

Somehow people always say that when they see a Fox. I'd rather they would call me that than stupid, however. Do I look stupid in my picture?

"Look pleasant," said the man when taking my photograph for Birds, and I flatter myself I did – and intelligent, too. Look at my brainy head, my delicate ears – broad below to catch every sound, and tapering so sharply to a point that they can shape themselves to every wave of sound. Note the crafty calculation and foresight of my low, flat brow, the resolute purpose of my pointed nose; my eye deep set – like a robber's – my thin cynical lips, and mouth open from ear to ear. You couldn't find a better looking Fox if you searched the world over.

I can leap, crawl, run, and swim, and walk so noiselessly that even the dead leaves won't rustle under my feet. It takes a deal of cunning for a Fox to get along in this world, I can tell you. I'd go hungry if I didn't plan and observe the habits of other creatures. For instance: I love Fish. When I want one for my supper off I trot to the nearest stream, and standing very quiet, watch till I spy a nice, plump trout in the clear water. A leap, a snap, and it is all over with Mr. Trout.

Another time I feel as though I'd like a crawfish. I see one snoozing by his hole near the water's edge. I drop my fine, bushy tail into the water and tickle him on the ear. That makes him furious – nobody likes to be wakened from a nap that way – and out he darts at the tail; snap go my jaws, and Mr. Crawfish is crushed in them, shell and all.

Between you and me, I consider that a very clever trick, too. Don't you?

Summer is my favorite season of the year. How I love the green fields, the ripening grain, the delicious fruits, for then the Rabbits prick up their long ears, and thinking themselves out of danger, run along the hillside; then the quails skulk in the wheat stubble, and the birds hop and fly about the whole day long. I am very fond of Rabbits, Quails, and other Birds. They make a very satisfactory meal. For dessert I have only to sneak into an orchard and eat my fill of apples, pears, and grapes. You perceive I have very good reason for liking the summer. It's the merriest time of the year for me, and my cubs. They grow fat and saucy, too.

THE GRAY FOX

THE only Foxes that are hunted (the others only being taken by means of traps or poison) are the Red and Gray species. The Gray Fox is a more southern species than the Red and is rarely found north of the state of Maine. Indeed it is said to be not common anywhere in New England. In the southern states, however, it wholly replaces the Red Fox, and, according to Hallock, one of the best authorities on game animals in this country, causes quite as much annoyance to the farmer as does that proverbial and predatory animal, the terror of the hen-roost and the smaller rodents. The Gray Fox is somewhat smaller than the Red and differs from him in being wholly dark gray "mixed hoary and black." He also differs from his northern cousin in being able to climb trees. Although not much of a runner, when hard pressed by the dog he will often ascend the trunk of a leaning tree, or will even climb an erect one, grasping the trunk in his arms as would a Bear. Nevertheless the Fox is not at home among the branches, and looks and no doubt feels very much out of place while in this predicament. The ability to climb, however, often saves him from the hounds, who are thus thrown off the scent and Reynard is left to trot home at his leisure.

Foxes live in holes of their own making, generally in the loamy soil of a side hill, says an old Fox hunter, and the she-Fox bears four or five cubs at a litter. When a fox-hole is discovered by the Farmers they assemble and proceed to dig out the inmates who have lately, very likely, been making havoc among the hen-roosts. An amusing incident, he relates, which came under his observation a few years ago will bear relating. A farmer discovered the lair of an old dog Fox by means of his hound, who trailed the animal to his hole. This Fox had been making large and nightly inroads into the poultry ranks of the neighborhood, and had acquired great and unenviable notoriety on that account. The farmer and two companions, armed with spades and hoes, and accompanied by the faithful hound, started to dig out the Fox. The hole was situated on the sandy slope of a hill, and after a laborious and continued digging of four hours, Reynard was unearthed and he and Rep, the dog, were soon engaged in deadly strife. The excitement had waxed hot, and dog, men, and Fox were all struggling in a promiscuous melee. Soon a burly farmer watching his chance strikes wildly with his hoe-handle for Reynard's head, which is scarcely distinguishable in the maze of legs and bodies. The blow descends, but alas! a sudden movement of the hairy mass brings the fierce stroke upon the faithful dog, who with a wild howl relaxes his grasp and rolls with bruised and bleeding head, faint and powerless on the hillside. Reynard takes advantage of the turn affairs have assumed, and before the gun, which had been laid aside on the grass some hours before, can be reached he disappears over the crest of the hill.

Hallock says that an old she-Fox with young, to supply them with food, will soon deplete the hen-roost and destroy both old and great numbers of very young chickens. They generally travel by night, follow regular runs, and are exceedingly shy of any invention for their capture, and the use of traps is almost futile. If caught in a trap, they will gnaw off the captured foot and escape, in which respect they fully support their ancient reputation for cunning.

MISCELLANY

Rural Bird Life in India. – "Nothing gives more delight," writes Mr. Caine, "in traveling through rural India than the bird-life that abounds everywhere; absolutely unmolested, they are as tame as a poultry yard, making the country one vast aviary. Yellow-beaked Minas, Ring-doves, Jays, Hoopoes, and Parrots take dust baths with the merry Palm-squirrel in the roadway, hardly troubling themselves to hop out of the way of the heavy bull-carts; every wayside pond and lake is alive with Ducks, Wild Geese, Flamingoes, Pelicans, and waders of every size and sort, from dainty red-legged beauties the size of Pigeons up to the great unwieldy Cranes and Adjutants five feet high. We pass a dead Sheep with two loathsome vultures picking over the carcass, and presently a brood of fluffy young Partridges with father and mother in charge look at us fearlessly within ten feet of our whirling carriage. Every village has its flock of sacred Peacocks pacing gravely through the surrounding gardens and fields, and Woodpeckers and Kingfishers flash about like jewels in the blazing sunlight."

Warning Colors. – Very complete experiments in support of the theory of warning colors, first suggested by Bates and also by Wallace, have been made in India by Mr. Finn, says The Independent. He concludes that there is a general appetite for Butterflies among insectivorous birds, though they are rarely seen when wild to attack them; also that many, probably most birds, dislike, if not intensely, at any rate in comparison with other Butterflies, those of the Danais genus and three other kinds, including a species of Papilio, which is the most distasteful. The mimics of these Butterflies are relatively palatable. He found that each bird has to separately acquire its experience with bad-tasting Butterflies, but well remembers what it learns. He also experimented with Lizards, and noticed that, unlike the birds, they ate the nauseous as well as other Butterflies.

Increase in Zoological Preserves in the United States – The establishment of the National Zoological Park, Washington, has led to the formation of many other zoological preserves in the United States. In the western part of New Hampshire is an area of 26,000 acres, established by the late Austin Corbin, and containing 74 Bison, 200 Moose, 1,500 Elk, 1,700 Deer of different species, and 150 Wild Boar, all of which are rapidly multiplying. In the Adirondacks, a preserve of 9,000 acres has been stocked with Elk, Virginia Deer, Muledeer, Rabbits, and Pheasants. The same animals are preserved by W. C. Whitney on an estate of 1,000 acres in the Berkshire Hills, near Lenox, Mass., where also he keeps Bison and Antelope. Other preserves are Nehasane Park, in the Adirondacks, 8,000 acres; Tranquillity Park, near Allamuchy, N. J., 4,000 acres; the Alling preserve, near Tacoma, Washington, 5,000 acres; North Lodge, near St. Paul, Minn., 400 acres; and Furlough Lodge, in the Catskills, N. Y., 600 acres.

Robins Abundant – Not for many years have these birds been so numerous as during 1898. Once, under some wide-spreading willow trees, where the ground was bare and soft, we counted about forty Red-breasts feeding together, and on several occasions during the summer we saw so many in flocks, that we could only guess at the number. When unmolested, few birds become so tame and none are more interesting.

THE GRAY SQUIRREL

EAST of the Missouri River the Gray Squirrel is found almost everywhere, and is perhaps the most common variety. Wherever there is timber it is almost sure to be met with, and in many localities is very abundant, especially where it has had an opportunity to breed without unusual disturbance. Its usual color is pale gray above and white or yellowish white beneath, but individuals of the species grade from this color through all the stages to jet black. Gray and black Squirrels are often found associating together. They are said to be in every respect alike, in the anatomy of their bodies, habits, and in every detail excepting the color, and by many sportsmen they are regarded as distinct species, and that the black form is merely due to melanism, an anomaly not uncommon among animals. Whether this be the correct explanation may well be left to further scientific observation.

Like all the family, the Gray Squirrels feed in the early morning just after sunrise and remain during the middle of the day in their hole or nest. It is in the early morning or the late afternoon, when they again appear in search of the evening meal, that the wise hunter lies in wait for them. Then they may be heard and seen playing and chattering together till twilight. Sitting upright and motionless on a log the intruder will rarely be discovered by them, but at the slightest movement they scamper away, hardly to return. This fact is taken advantage of by the sportsmen, and, says an observer, be he at all familiar with the runways of the Squirrels at any particular locality he may sit by the path and bag a goodly number. Gray and Black Squirrels generally breed twice during the spring and summer, and have several young at a litter. The young mature in August and September.

We have been told that an incident of migration of Squirrels of a very remarkable kind occurred a good many years ago, caused by lack of mast and other food, in New York State. When the creatures arrived at the Niagara river, their apparent destination being Canada, they seemed to hesitate before attempting to cross the swift running stream. The current is very rapid, exceeding seven miles an hour. They finally ventured in the water, however, and with tails spread for sails, succeeded in making the opposite shore, but more than a mile below the point of entrance. They are better swimmers than one would fancy them to be, as they have much strength and endurance. We remember when a boy seeing some mischievous urchins repeatedly throw a tame Squirrel into deep water for the cruel pleasure of watching it swim ashore. The "sport" was soon stopped, however, by a passerby, who administered a rebuke that could hardly be forgotten.

Squirrels are frequently domesticated and become as tame as any household tabby. Unfortunately Dogs and Cats seem to show a relentless enmity toward them, as they do toward all rodents. The Squirrel is willing to be friendly, and no doubt would gladly affiliate with them, but the instinct of the canine and the feline impels them to exterminate it. We once gave shelter and food to a strange Cat and was rewarded by seeing it fiercely attack and kill a beautiful white Rabbit which until then had had the run of the yard and never before been molested. Until we shall be able to teach the beasts of the field something of our sentimental humanitarianism we can scarcely expect to see examples of cruelty wholly disappear.

AH ME!

I killed a Robin – the little thing,
With scarlet breast on a glossy wing,
That comes in the apple tree to sing.

I flung a stone as he twittered there,
I only meant to give him a scare,
But off it went – and hit him square.

A little flutter – a little cry —
Then on the ground I saw him lie.
I didn't think he was going to die.

But as I watched him I soon could see
He never would sing for you or me
Any more in the apple tree.

Never more in the morning light,
Never more in the sunshine bright,
Trilling his song in gay delight.

And I'm thinking, every summer day,
How never, never, I can repay
The little life that I took away.

    – Sydney Dayre, in The Youth's Companion.

THE PECTORAL SANDPIPER

MORE than a score of Sandpipers are described in the various works on ornithology. The one presented here, however, is perhaps the most curious specimen, distributed throughout North, Central, and South America, breeding in the Arctic regions. It is also of frequent occurrence in Europe. Low, wet lands, muddy flats, and the edges of shallow pools of water are its favorite resorts. The birds move in flocks, but, while feeding, scatter as they move about, picking and probing here and there for their food, which consists of worms, insects, small shell fish, tender rootlets, and birds; "but at the report of a gun," says Col. Goss, "or any sudden fright, spring into the air, utter a low whistling note, quickly bunch together, flying swift and strong, usually in a zigzag manner, and when not much hunted often circle and drop back within shot; for they are not naturally a timid or suspicious bird, and when quietly and slowly approached, sometimes try to hide by squatting close to the ground."

Of the Pectoral Sandpiper's nesting habits, little has been known until recently. From Mr. Nelson's interesting description, in his report upon "Natural History Collections in Alaska," we quote as follows: "The night of May 24, 1889, 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. 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. [See Birds and All Nature, Vol. IV, p. 18.] 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 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 grass ten or fifteen yards from me, with its throat inflated until it was as large as the rest of the bird, was a male Pectoral Sandpiper. 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." The bird may frequently be seen running along the ground close to the female, its enormous sac inflated.

Mr. Murdock says the birds breed in abundance at Point Barrow, Alaska, and that the nest is always built in the grass, with a preference for high and dry localities. The nest was like that of the other waders, a depression in the ground, lined with a little dry grass. The eggs are four, of pale purplish-gray and light neutral tint. It is sometimes called Grass Snipe.

EYES

By W. E. Watt

Why was the sight
To such a tender ball as th' eye confined,
So obvious and so easy to be quenched,
And not, as feeling, through all parts diffused;
That she might look at will through every pore? – Milton.

"But bein' only eyes, you see, my wision's limited." – Sam Weller.

THE reason we know anything at all is that various forms of vibration are capable of affecting our organs of sense. These agitate the brain, the mind perceives, and from perception arise the higher forms of thought. Perhaps the most important of the senses is sight. It ranges in power from the mere ability to perceive the difference between light and darkness up to a marvelous means of knowing the nature of objects of various forms and sizes, at both near and remote range.

One the simplest forms of eyes is found in the Sea-anemone. It has a colored mass of pigment cells and refractive bodies that break up the light which falls upon them, and it is able to know day and night. An examination of this simple organ leads one to think the scientist not far wrong who claimed that the eye is a development from what was once merely a particular sore spot that was sensitive to the action of light. The protophyte, Euglena varidis, has what seems to be the least complicated of all sense organs in the transparent spot in the front of its body.

We know that rays of light have power to alter the color of certain substances. The retina of the eye is changed in color by exposure to continued rays of light. Frogs in whose eyes the color of the retina has apparently been all changed by sunshine are still able to take a fly accurately and to recognize certain colors.

Whether the changes produced by light upon the retina are all chemical or all physical or partly both remains open to discussion.

An interesting experiment was performed by Professor Tyndall proving that heat rays do not affect the eye optically. He was operating along the line of testing the power of the eye to transmit to the sensorium the presence of certain forms of radiant energy. It is well known that certain waves are unnoticed by the eye but are registered distinctly by the photographic plate, and he first showed beyond doubt that heat waves as such have no effect upon the retina. By separating the light and heat rays from an electric lantern and focusing the latter, he brought their combined energy to play where his own eye could be placed directly in contact with them, first protecting the exterior of his eye from the heat rays. There was no sensation whatever as a result, but when, directly afterward, he placed a sheet of platinum at the convergence of the dark rays it quickly became red hot with the energy which his eye was unable to recognize.