Birds and Nature Vol. 9 No. 1 [January 1901]

The family Aviculidae, comprising the wing-shells or pearl oysters, is of great interest, both scientifically and economically. At the present time there are a little over one hundred species living, but the family has been known from early geological times and over a thousand species have been found in the rocks. The pearl-oyster (Melleagrina margaritifera) is the most important member of this family, furnishing as it does the beautiful pearls of commerce. These animals are found at Madagascar, Ceylon and other parts of the Indian Ocean, several hundred tons being imported into Europe annually. These pearls are formed by some irritating substance, as a grain of sand or some parasite, getting in between the shell and the animal, or lodging in some soft part, which causes the animal to cover it with pearly matter to prevent irritation. The shells also furnish a considerable part of the “mother-o’-pearl” which is so largely used for ornamental purposes. The Margaritifera radiata, figured on our plate, is a member of this family.

The scallop is an object well known to the tourist visiting New England summer resorts, who has reveled in “fried scallops.” The family to which this belongs (Pectinidae) is composed of rounded shells, many with frills or ribs and nearly all ornamented with beautiful colors. Unlike the animals which we have been considering, these mollusks have no siphons and the shell is open all the way around save at the hinge, and the edge of the mantle is provided with little, round, black eyes. It is an interesting sight to observe a beach at low water, the receding tide having left on the shore or in little pools of water hundreds of these mollusks, attached by a byssus to bits of sea weed. As one is gazing wonderingly over this vast field of yellow sand and green weed, an object will suddenly move through a pool of water with astonishing rapidity, accompanying the movement by a quick snapping sound. This is the scallop, which is imprisoned in the pool and which desires to get out. The movement is effected by rapidly closing and opening the two valves of the shell, thereby causing a clicking sound. The noise of several hundred of these shells opening and closing and the sight of as many scallops with strings of sea weed attached to them, shooting through the water, looking not unlike a comet with a long tail, is quite bewildering. In Europe, the scallop is considered quite a delicacy and several tons are gathered annually. One species (Pecten jacobaeus) has been dignified as a badge of several orders of knighthood and it was also worn by pilgrims to the Holy Land a good many years ago. It was called “St. James’ Shell.”

The most common shell to the layman is the oyster (Ostrea virginica), the cultivation of which occupies the attention of a large number of men and the investment of considerable capital. The oyster is free and active when young, but becomes attached to some submerged object early in life. Oyster culturists take advantage of this habit by erecting poles in the water to which the young oysters attach themselves. The shells of the different species of oyster are not generally of much beauty, but a related family, the Spondylidae, or spiny oysters, are among the most beautiful of bivalves. In this family the shell is ornamented by many long spines and frills, and the colors are different shades of red, yellow and pink. The most beautiful species are found in the Gulf of California.

The space at our command is far too limited to adequately discuss the many curious and interesting animals which make up the class Pelecypoda. Much might be said of the Solen or razor-shell, with its curious foot which is so great a help in digging burrows; of the Pholads, which perforate and make burrows in clay, wood and even in the hardest rock; and of the strange Teredo or “shipworm,” with a long, worm-like body which bores into ships, wharves and any wooden object within reach. But enough has been written and pictured to show the reader that the unpretentious clam, mussel or oyster and their relatives have many interesting habits, are encased in beautiful shells, and that some species are of great economic importance to man.

Frank Collins Baker.

THE PASSING OF SUMMER

 
Where have the charms of summer gone?
Part of its sunny, azure skies
The bluebirds southward bore away,
And how could sunset splendors stay,
Or glory of the early dawn,
When not a tanager now vies
With orange-flaming orioles,
And humming-birds no magic bowls
Of nectar drain in gardens fair,
Or flash like jewels through the air?
 
 
Where have the summer’s beauties flown?
Afar on swallows’ purple wings;
With blackbirds’ iridescent throats,
And with the thrushes’ perfect notes
Of rapture into music grown;
With blue the indigo bunting brings,
A sapphire set with emerald leaves,
And finch-gold that June interweaves
With silver from the kingbird’s breast
And studs with pearls of many a nest.
 
 
When will the summer come again?
When olive warblers northward fly,
And to their hints of budding green
The grosbeaks add a rosy sheen
Of warming skies: O, not till then
Will summer come and winter die!
 

– Benjamin Karr.

THE COLLARED LIZARD
(Crotaphytus collaris.)

The Collared or Ring-necked Lizard may be found among the rocks and open woods of the plateau or in desert regions from southern Missouri southward into Mexico, westward to southeastern California and northward to southern Idaho. However, this is its general range, and it is not common over all this territory. Though it has been known to ascend to an altitude of nearly six thousand feet, yet it does not seem to have crossed the Sierra Nevada range, as it has not been observed at any point on the Pacific coast or the interior of California.

The Collared Lizard is so called because of the black bars, which resemble a collar, and are situated between the fore legs and extend across the back of the animal. They vary greatly in color, depending on their age or geographical position. The back is usually some shade of dull or rather dark green, or it may have a bluish cast, with numerous oblong or rounded lighter spots, which may be either whitish, or various shades of red, orange or yellow. These spots may be quite definite or they may form quite continuous bands. The variations in color are much more marked in the young.

Dr. Cope tells us that “it runs very swiftly, carrying the tail over its back. In its manners it is perhaps the most pugnacious of our lizards, opening its mouth when cornered, and biting savagely. Its sharp teeth can do no more than slightly cut the skin.”

Mr. Frank M. Woodruff relates the following interesting account of his experiences with this lizard: “I found the Collared Lizard at three points in Missouri – Vineland, DeSoto and Pilot Knob. They are restricted to the rocky glades, where they live with the scorpions and the rattlesnakes. The only place where I found them abundant was between Vineland and the old Kingston mines. During the hot summer months they make their appearance upon the broad slabs of rock, often quite a distance from their lairs. When disturbed they make a dash to escape and usually in the direction that leads to their accustomed crevice, even though the intruder is in its path. I have had them run almost across my feet in their frantic efforts to hide. They are a somewhat terrifying object as they run toward you. At this time they apparently assume a partly upright position, looking for all the world like a small edition of Mephistopheles. The negroes are mortally afraid of them. They call them ‘Glade Devils,’ and the more superstitious believe that the souls of the very bad negroes reside in them. A negro will never go through a glade frequented by this species, and will make a long detour to avoid doing so. The only time I ever saw a negro ‘turn gray’ was when I brought one of these lizards to Ironton and asked for assistance in capturing it when it escaped. They are so swift in their movements that I found the best method of capturing them was by tying a noose of fine copper wire to a fish pole. This can be slipped over their heads, as they lie sunning themselves, as they seem to pay but little attention to the loop as it touches them. By exercising caution it is possible to approach from the rear to within eight or ten feet without exciting them. They make delightful pets, if a lizard can be considered such. By feeding them through the winter on meal worms and in the summer on flies and grasshoppers they can be kept for a year or more.”

A NIGHT IN THE FLOWER GARDEN
A FAIRY STORY

The day had passed and the sun had gone to sleep in a bed of crimson and gold. The wind blew softly, at which the leaves on the great trees in the garden began to murmur; though it was evening they were not sleepy like some of the flowers who thought it time to go to sleep when the sun did. Sometimes the leaves were awake all night; you could hear them moving gently in the breeze. The clover leaves were folded close in sleep long ago and the Poppies declared they could not sit up a moment longer. But the tall white Lilies, who loved the night, were wide awake; they could not sleep when the garden was full of moonlight. They said the Crickets were so noisy and the Katydids so quarrelsome that it disturbed them, so they stood fair and white gathering the dew in their silvery cups which filled the soft night air with sweet perfume. The Roses were looking pale and sad in the moonlight; they reveled in the golden sunshine and grew brilliant in the heat of day. But they were languid now and sometimes a little breeze would send their velvet petals floating to the ground to fade and die.

The Pansies nestled low with closed eyes. You would not have known where the Mignonette and Heliotrope were had you not breathed their sweet perfume, for they were fast asleep. The Nasturtiums, Hollyhocks, and Marigolds were still as bright and gay as if the sun, whom they loved, could see them and they felt like sitting up with the Four O’Clocks and Evening Primroses, who never went to sleep until very late.

But of all the flowers in the garden, the Sweet Peas were the widest awake. There they stood in rows, dainty and fair, never thinking of going to sleep, but trembling with excitement. You could see them whispering together, for they had heard that to-night the Fairy Queen was to come to the garden and would give a soul to some flower; which one they did not know but hoped it would be to them.

A little Humming Bird had brought the news and had told it only to the Sweet Peas, so they thought it must be for them that this beautiful change was to come. Had they not heard that years ago a sweet flower called Narcissus had been changed into a beautiful youth, who could wander where he wished? What delight that would be! And had they not also heard of Pansies changing into little children, and Larkspurs into larks that soared away into the bright blue sky? Of Water Lilies changing into maidens, who made their homes under the green waves? And they had always thought that myriads of brilliant flowers were changed into the daintiest of all things. The little Humming Birds must have been flowers at one time, for they were always hovering around them, kissing them and making love to them. Oh! if the Fairy Queen would only change them into birds, or velvet bees, or, better still, into the beautiful butterflies, that came to them so often and fluttered like a cloud around them. Yes, they would rather be butterflies than anything else.

Slowly the moonlight faded from the flowers, the shadows of the night deepened and the soft dew fell like a benediction. A Fairy form floated over the sweetest of blossoms, then disappeared, and all was dark and silent save a gentle flutter, as of wings.

But in the morning when the sunbeams had awakened the sleeping blossoms, a flight of bright-winged Butterflies floated in the air or lighted for a moment on the flowers, but the Sweet Peas had all disappeared and were nowhere to be seen.

Fannie Wright Dixon.

RABBIT’S CREAM

 
Everyone is well acquainted
With the arts of Frosty Jack —
With his etchings on the windows,
With the tints that mark his track;
But the quaint and merry artist
Has a fancy of his own
That is delicate and graceful,
But is not so widely known.
 
 
When no green is in the forest,
And no bloom is in the dell,
Not a flower star to twinkle,
Not the smallest blossom-bell, —
Here and there, an herb he singles,
Brown and dry, and round its stem
Fastens, with his magic fingers,
One great, silver-shining gem;
 
 
Shell-like, delicate and dainty,
White and lucent as a pearl;
Just as though he took a fragment
Of the mist, and with a twirl
Froze it into shape and substance —
Such a fine and fragile thing,
That the fairy queen might crush it,
If she brushed it with her wing.
 
 
Then he steals away, delighted;
He has planned a morning treat
For a troop who soon will flutter
Through the wood, on dancing feet;
All the little country urchins
Love to see its silver gleam —
Love to fancy it a dainty,
And they call it “rabbit’s cream.”
 

– Hattie Whitney.