Birds and Nature Vol. 9 No. 2 [February 1901]

At the present time these reptiles are not so very common. Ever-prevailing superstition among the ignorant and exaggerated bad reputation have brought on a relentless war of extermination against them, so that now in the neighborhood of settlements they are seen seldom if ever. Their center of distribution is more and more confined to the region along the banks of the Gila river in Arizona, although less frequently they may still be found as far west as the Mojave desert in California. But those are wrong who believe that the Heloderma is living only in the most arid portions of the southwest. There are several reasons why the reptile seeks eagerly irrigated places, which are productive of some vegetation, for it needs water, food and shady hiding-places.

In the middle of summer, when even the larger streams are dried up, the Gila Monster retires to some burrow, abandoned by another animal, or to deep crevices in the rocks, and spends there in a torpid state several weeks, until the great rainfalls relieve the country, give fresh plant life and fill again the barren riverbeds. This is the animal’s summer retreat. During the course of a year it takes a second and longer one, the regular hibernation, that lasts about from November to the middle of February, when it resumes its outside life again. It loves to bask in the still mild rays of the sun, but as soon as the heat increases the Gila Monster seeks shelter for the day behind stones and bowlders, under clumps of cacti and in small mesquite groves along the river banks. It roams about only after sunset or early in the morning. The idea that this lizard enjoys the quivering heat on an open Arizona plain, while other sun and heat-loving reptiles keep in hiding, is as erroneous as many others. Nothing is so absolutely fatal to the Heloderma as to be exposed only for half an hour to the direct rays of the sun in midsummer. Another reason why it prefers to live in the neighborhood of streams where plant life is more abundant explains itself by the necessity to provide for food.

Whoever has an opportunity to observe reptiles in confinement for an extended period of time can easily draw conclusions as to their mode of living in freedom. A captive Gila Monster is fed on hens’ eggs; in summer one each week, in winter one every two or three weeks. It refuses every other kind of food, however temptingly it may be offered, such as mice, frogs, angleworms, mealworms and the like. It is more than probable that in their wild state they live on a similar diet, consisting then of eggs of other lizards, of turtles and of birds. The animal has the reputation of being destructive to the Arizona quail.

Several writers of Natural History add to this a diet of insects, but the embarrassed locomotion of the Heloderma seems to exclude flying and fast-running prey. Nearly all reptiles which feed on eggs climb, as do some snakes, and as does the slow and clumsy Gila Monster. They are not able to ascend high and straight trees, which, however, are not found in these regions, but they are able to climb bushes and low trees, having somewhat leaning trunks and rough bark. And it is wonderful to see how cleverly it disposes of the sharp claws and the muscular, half-prehensile tail, both in dragging itself up and in retarding an often too rapid descent.

The inquiry may be made: How is it possible that a Heloderma lives on eggs alone when it can find them only during the relatively short time of five or six months? First, it may be remembered that this period corresponds nearly to the active life of the animal before and after estivation. The second and more important reason is its remarkable frugality. The digestive organs are so constructed that they adapt themselves to a fast of many months without injury to the animal.

In captivity the Gila Monster begins to slough about January and continues this process during several months. The epidermis comes off not like a snake’s, in a whole piece, but in several, or more frequently in many, fragments.

There is still a wide field open for accurate observation and definite knowledge that we relinquish to the professional naturalist and to those fortunate ones who can study the animal in freedom.

    Amelia Walson.

[Editor’s Note: The Gila Monster of the illustration is still living and has for some years been the interesting pet of one whose love of nature in all forms has found beauty in the reptile usually shunned alike by the savage and by civilized man.]

BIRD NOTES

I

Bit of sunshine taken wings,
Or a spray of golden-rod?
On thistle top he sways and swings,
Or flung high to the sun, he sings —
Perdita – Perdita – Perdita —
’Dita, – Sweet, Sweet – .

II

Good morning trolled, then all the day,
From thicket hidden bramble bush,
This recluse croons his roundelay.
But startle him, – a flash of gray,
And, Hush – Hush – Hush – Hush —
Go ’way, – Go ’way – .

III

Wild cherry bough and hanging nest,
And calls amid the apple bloom,
No need to tell whose flaming breast
And fluting note lead all the rest, —
Glory – Glory – Glory – Glory —
Glory, – Come-O, Come-O – .

    – Mary Hefferan.

THE POMEGRANATE

(Punica granatum.)

The Pomegranate is tree-like, growing to a height of about fifteen feet and in favorable soil even as high as twenty feet. It is probably native in Persia, though it is found in a wild state in all the countries bordering on the Mediterranean Sea. It is also found in China and Japan and has been brought by man to all of the civilized parts of the globe, where the climate is of a sufficiently high degree of warmth to permit the ripening of its fruit.

This little tree is frequently cultivated not alone for the beauty of its form, but for the beauty of its flowers, which, under cultivation, become doubled and show an increased and striking splendor in the richness of their color.

The etymology of its name is very interesting. The word Pomegranate is from two Latin words, pomum, meaning apple, and granatum, meaning grained or seeded. The former has reference to the shape of the fruit and the latter word to the numerous seeds contained in the pulp. The technical name of the Pomegranate plant is Punica granatum. The generic name Punica is evidently from the Latin word punicus, meaning red, and refers to the red color of the pulp or possibly also to the scarlet flowers. The name Punicus was also used by the Romans with reference to the Carthaginians, and signified untrustworthy or treacherous, this people having such a reputation with them; thus the name may have been applied to this fruit which, though it delights the eye, is disappointing to the taste.

Pliny tells us that the Pomegranate was extensively cultivated by the Carthaginians at their home in Northern Africa. This may have been the reason why the name Punica was selected for the genus by Linnaeus. The Romans also called it “Pomum Punicum,” or Carthage apple.

That the knowledge of this tree is of great antiquity is shown in many ways. It is frequently referred to in ancient Sanskrit writings of a time earlier than that of the Christian Era. In this language it was called “Dadimba.” Homer, in the Odyssey, speaks of its cultivation in the gardens of the kings of Phrygia and Phaecia. There are frequent references to it in the Old Testament. In the directions for making Aaron’s robe we find the following passage: “Upon the skirts of it thou shalt make pomegranates of blue, and of purple, and of scarlet,” and again, “They made bells of pure gold, and put the bells between the pomegranates.” Hiram, in the building of Solomon’s house, used the design of the Pomegranate. In the seventh chapter of the First Book of Kings we find “the pomegranates were two hundred, in rows round about upon the other chapiter,” and in another verse we are told that they were of brass.

Moses spoke of the promised land as a land of “wheat, barley and vines, fig-trees and pomegranates.” Solomon indicates that this fruit was cultivated in his time as he speaks of an “orchard of pomegranates with pleasant fruits.”

The Pomegranate is frequently represented in the ancient sculptures of the Assyrians and of the Egyptians.

The Pomegranate belongs to the family of plants called Lythraceae. This family has about three hundred and fifty species which are widely distributed, but are most abundant in tropical regions, especially in America. In describing the tree Dr. Oliver R. Willis gives the following characteristics: “Branches straight, strong, sub-angular, armed near the ends with spines; young shoots and buds red. Leaves opposite or fascicled, short-stalked, and without stipules. Flowers large, solitary, or two or three together in the axils of the leaves, near the ends of the branchlets. A beautiful object for planted grounds.”

The color of the flowers, which develop on the ends of the younger branches, is a deep and rich scarlet or crimson. Many variations have been produced by growing the plants from seeds and one of these bears white flowers. The petals are rounded and usually crumpled.

The fruit, which is a berry about the size of an ordinary orange, is when fresh usually of a reddish yellow color, becoming brownish in drying. The rind is thick and leathery, and encloses a quantity of pulp which is filled with a refreshing juice that is acid. It is of a pinkish or reddish color, and encloses the numerous angular seeds. Probably the chief value of the plant lies in the use of the fruit as a relish, though the rind of the fruit and the bark of the root are used in medicine.

The bark contains a large amount of tannin and from it there is also obtained a bright yellow dye, which is used to produce the yellow Levant Morocco.

In regions without frost the tree is often grown for ornamental purposes.

FISHES AND FISH-CULTURE AMONG THE GREEKS AND ROMANS

Greek mythology shows us that for a long time, perhaps many centuries, the ancestors of the Greeks knew but very little about the sea or about rivers. The numerous monsters of the sea, products of the imagination, combined in their forms the parts of marine and land animals, including man. The angry waves suggested to them some creature that was wroth; in the ocean depths what more likely to be found than the caverns empty and dry, the homes of the monsters with which they had peopled it? Their knowledge of the sea was of very slow growth. It was yet a divine thing in Homer’s time, who lived just before the dawn of history. Their knowledge of marine life had made but little if any greater advance than their knowledge of the sea itself. The people of Homer make no use whatever of fish. We do not find a word indicating that either noble or slave ate fish, although the bill of fare in the Homeric household is given to us with considerable fullness.

Passing over two centuries or more to the Athens of Pericles’ time, we will find that a great change has been wrought. Fish is now the daintiest viand that comes into the Athenian market. The fishing industry has developed and grown to immense proportions. The fishmonger has taken on a character which seems destined to be eternal. Till this day it has suffered no change except that he has transferred to his wife some of the traits that once were his.

The task of supplying the fish-market of Athens and other cities must have required a large number of fishermen. For at this time fish might almost be called the national dish, hence an enormous consumption, whereas the means of capture were far inferior to those of to-day. As a matter of fact the market was supplied from a very wide area, but chiefly from the seas to the east. Far along the north and south shores of the Black Sea the industry was a flourishing one. Particularly from these regions were salted and dried fish supplied. Here they were prepared in the huts of the individual fisherman and were gathered up by the traders, who sailed their little boats far and wide in search of traffic. The fish were exchanged for merchandise, especially for earthen utensils and for clothing. These salted and dried fish were the staple varieties and were supplied to the market in great quantities, as they were the principal food of the poorer classes and were sold very cheap.

The hours for the fish market in Athens must have been a time of very great interest, not only to the Athenian householder but to the foreigner sojourning within the city. To preserve order and also to give all customers an equal chance to procure the rare specimens offered for sale, several stringent laws were enacted to govern the market. Among other regulations was one requiring the opening of the market to be announced by the ringing of a bell. Apparently there was no fixed moment of time when this bell should be rung, but the time varied little from day to day. If we can believe our ancient authorities, the ringing of the bell was the occasion for a rush, pellmell, to the market, each seeking to obtain the first choice. Strabo tells us an interesting story anent this custom. On one occasion a musician was performing before a number of invited guests, and when, in the midst of a composition, the bell rang, in a moment the guests were up and away to the market, all except one man, who was deaf. When the lyrist had finished he was very careful to thank his lone auditor for his courtesy in remaining to hear him through, instead of running away when the bell rang, as the rest did. “Oh, has the bell rung?” asked the deaf man. And when informed that it had, he, too, hastened to the market.

The Greek interest in fishes seems never to have gone beyond their utility as an article of food. The building of aquaria and fish-ponds never came to be the sport of the Greeks, although they became extravagant luxuries among the Romans. Likewise fishing never became the sport of a Greek gentleman, unless, perchance, at a rather late period. Plato excludes fishing from the sports of a free-born gentleman. The only sport he would have him engage in was the chase, which, athletic games aside, was about the only outdoor sport a Greek gentleman seems to have indulged in. For instance, there is no mention in Greek literature of horseback riding as a pastime, yet horsemanship was an accomplishment in which every Greek gentleman received special training. Likewise, though fishing was not a recognized sport, yet the science of angling was well understood among them by the third century B. C., and probably much earlier. This we learn from a beautiful poem by the Alexandrian poet Theocritus, entitled “The Fishermen.” I will quote a portion of the poem translated into prose, partly because it gives us a picture of some ancient professional fishermen in the camp, partly because it mentions all the ancient instruments of the business.

“Two fishers, on a time, two old men, together lay and slept; they had strown the dry sea-moss for a bed in their wattled cabin, and there they lay against the leafy wall. Beside them were strewn the instruments of their toilsome hands, the fishing-creels, the rods of reed, the hooks, the sails bedraggled with sea-spoil, the lines, the weels, the lobster pots woven of rushes, the seines, two oars, and an old coble upon props. Beneath their heads was a scanty matting, their clothes, their sailor’s caps. Here was all their toil, here all their wealth. The threshold no door did guard nor a watch-dog; all these things, all, to them seemed superfluity, for Poverty was their sentinel. They had no neighbor by them, but ever against their narrow cabin gently floated up the sea.”

Long before daylight one of them awoke and aroused his companion to tell him the dream he had had. I shall quote the dream, as it graphically describes an ancient angler busy at his task: “As I was sleeping late, amid the labors of the salt sea (and truly not too full-fed, for we supped early, if thou dost remember, and did not overtax our bellies), I saw myself busy on a rock, and there I sat and watched the fishes, and kept spinning the bait with the rods. And one of the fish nibbled, a fat one, for in sleep dogs dream of bread, and of fish dream I. Well, he was tightly hooked, and the blood was running, and the rod I grasped was bent with his struggle. So, with both hands, I strained and had a sore tussle for the monster. How was I ever to land so big a fish with hooks all too slim! Then, just to remind him he was hooked, I gently pricked him, pricked, and slackened, and, as he did not run, I took in line. My toil was ended with the sight of my prize; I drew up a golden, look you, a fish all plated thick with gold. Gently I unhooked him * * * then I dragged him on shore with the ropes.”

I leave to the reader the pleasant task of comparing the ancient tackle with the modern. It must be said, however, that the description is rather ideal for the Mediterranean fisherman displays no science in landing his game, but simply throws it high and dry or breaks his tackle. This fact is well attested for the ancients, by several vase and wall paintings portraying fishermen actually at work. These paintings show us that the ancient outfit included a basket, frequently with a long handle, and a vase painting in Vienna undoubtedly suggests its use. The man has caught a fish which he is lifting straight up out of the water, at the same time he is reaching down with his basket, evidently to scoop up the fish just before it leaves the water, similar to the practice in trout-fishing to-day.

Before passing over the Ionian Sea to observe what the Romans did in this field of activity, the quasi-scientific study of fishes among the Greeks, particularly that of Aristotle, should claim our attention. Compared with the work of the moderns Aristotle’s work was crude indeed. Estimated as the first attempts at building up a science his work deserves our admiration and, in view of the fact that his writings were standard for nearly two thousand years, it demands our respect.

Aristotle did his work in natural history under the patronage of King Philip of Macedon, who drew upon the resources of the empire to provide him with rare or little known specimens from far and wide. How some of his conclusions were based on insufficient data and are consequently very inaccurate, or even grotesque, his discussion of the eel will illustrate. It must not be taken as a fair sample of his work in general. In fact, it is very unusual. “Among all the animals,” he says, “which have blood, the eel is the only one which is not born of copulation or hatched from eggs. The correctness of this statement is evident from the fact that eels make their appearance in marshy bodies of water, and that, too, after all the water has been drawn off and the mud removed, as soon as the rain-water begins to fill these lakes. They are not produced in dry weather, not even in lakes that never become dry, for they live on the rain-water. It is, therefore, plain that their origin is not due to procreation or to eggs. In spite of this some people think that they are viviparous, because worms have been found in the intestines of some eels, which they believe are the young of the eel. This opinion, however, is erroneous, for they are produced from the so-called ‘bowels of the earth’ (i. e., the earth-worms), the spontaneous product of mud and moisture.”

Turning now to the Romans, we find a somewhat different state of affairs, but different only on the aesthetic side; from a scientific or industrial point of view the Roman, though heir to all the Greek civilization and learning, in this, as in many other lines, made but slight advances.