Kitobni o'qish: «Birds and all Nature, Vol. IV, No. 6, December 1898», sahifa 2

Birds sing and other animals yell, roar, and snort, not for love-making purposes, but rather because of the joy of life that is in these creatures, and it manifests itself in this way as well as in the gambols of the Lambkin or the antics of the Monkey. The voice of the Mule is the sweetest sound in the world – to some other Mule. But it is sweeter still to the Mule that makes the joyful sound. Placzeck notes that a bird frequently sings lustily when he knows himself to be entirely alone. "In the spring-time of love, when all life is invigorated, and the effort to win a mate by ardent wooing is crowned with the joy of triumph, the song reaches its highest perfection. But the male bird also sings to entertain his mate during the arduous nest-building and hatching, to cheer the young and, if he be a domesticated bird, to give pleasure to his lord and the Providence that takes care of him, and in doing so to please himself. Lastly, the bird sings – by habit, as we call it – because the tendency is innate in the organs of song to exercise themselves." In other words, animals have the apparatus for making noises provided them in their organs of breathing, and because they have them they use them and are delighted with them, each in his own kind. Finding them a source of joy unto themselves it is not to be wondered at that they employ their voices in their love-making because they feel that what pleases themselves so much must not be without effect upon their loved ones.

THE AFRICAN LION

 
Amid the far-off hills,
With eye of fire, and shaggy mane upreared,
The sleeping Lion in his den sprang up;
Listened awhile – then laid his monstrous mouth
Close to the floor, and breathed hot roarings out
In fierce reply.
 

– Edwin Atherstone. (1821)

THE common opinion of the Lion from the remotest times is that he is King of Beasts, and a single glance at his face of majesty is sufficient to make us accept it. His roar is terrific, and the fact is well known that all animals tremble at the mere sound of his voice. The effect of it on his subjects is said to be indescribable. "The howling Hyena is stricken dumb, though not for long; the Leopard ceases to grunt; the Monkeys utter a loud, gurgling sound and mount to the highest tree-tops; the Antelopes rush through the bushes in a mad flight; a bleating flock becomes silent; the laden Camel trembles and listens no longer to his driver's appeal, but throws load and rider off and seeks salvation in flight; the Horse rears, snorts, and rushes back; the Dog, unused to the chase, creeps up to his master with a wail." But it is said we must not think that the Lion lets his roar re-echo through the wilderness at all times. His usual sounds are a deep growl and a long-drawn tone, like the mewing of a giant Cat. His real roar is uttered comparatively seldom, and many people who have visited countries inhabited by Lions have never heard it. It is the only one of its kind, and is surpassed in fullness of tone by the voice of no living creature except the male Hippopotamus, according to Pechnel-Loesche. "The Arabs have a pertinent expression for it: 'raad,' meaning thunder. It seems to come from the very depth of the chest and to strain it to the utmost."

This Lion is distributed all over Central and Southern Africa. They are regularly met with on the banks of the Blue and White Nile, and in the deserts of central and Southern Africa they are of common occurrence.

The Lion leads a solitary life, living with his mate only during the breeding season. Selous says that in South Africa one more frequently meets four or five Lions together than single specimens, and troops of ten or twelve are not extraordinary. His experience taught him that the South African Lion prefers feasting off the game some hunter has killed to exerting himself to capture his own prey. This is why he regularly follows nomadic tribes wherever they go; he regards them as his tributary subjects and the taxes he levies on them are indeed of the heaviest kind.

The Cubs are usually two or three and the Lioness treats them with great tenderness. They play together like Kittens. In well-managed zoological gardens Lions are now bred as carefully as Dogs; and even in circuses, where the animals have but little room and often insufficient nourishment, they are born and sometimes grow up. The cubs are at first rather clumsy. They are born with their eyes open and are about half the size of a Cat. Towards the close of the first year they are about the size of a strong Dog. In the third year the mane begins to appear on the male, but full growth and distinction of sex, according to Brehm, are only completed in the sixth or seventh year. Lions in captivity have lived to be seventy years old.

Brehm, who loved the Lion and was probably better acquainted with his habits than any other traveler, says: "The most prominent naturalists give the Lion credit for qualities which in my opinion include nobility enough. And whoever has become more closely acquainted with that animal; whoever has, like myself, intimately known a captive Lion for years, must think as I do; he must love and esteem it as much as a human being can love and esteem any animal."

A SYMBOL

BY IRWIN RUSSELL. ¹

 
Over the meadow there stretched a lane,
Parting the meadow in segments twain;
And through the meadow and over the sod
Where countless feet had before him trod —
With a wall forever on either hand
Barring the lane from the meadow-land,
There walked a man with a weary face,
Treading the lane at a steadfast pace.
 
 
On before him, until the eye
To gauge the distance could no more try,
To where the meadow embraced the sky,
The lane still stretched, and the walls still barred
The dusty lane from the meadow sward.
He paid no heed to the joyous calls
That came from men who had leaped the walls —
Who paused a moment in song or jest,
To hail him "Brother, come here and rest!"
For the Sun was marching toward the West,
And the man had many a mile to go,
And time is swift and toil is slow.
 
 
The grassy meadows were green and fair
Bestudded with many a blossom rare,
And the lane was dusty, and dry, and bare;
But even there, in a tiny shade
A jutting stone in the wall had made,
A tuft of clover had lately sprung —
It had not bloomed for it yet was young —
The spot of green caught the traveler's eye,
And he plucked a sprig, as he passed by;
And then, as he held it, there came a thought
In his musing mind, with a meaning fraught
With other meanings.
 
 
"Ah, look!" said he,
"The spray is one – and its leaves are three,
A symbol of man, it seems to me,
As he was, as he is, and as he will be!
One of the leaves points back, the way
That I have wearily walked to-day;
One points forward as if to show
The long, hard journey I've yet to go;
And the third one points to the ground below.
Time is one, and Time is three:
And the sign of Time, in its Trinity —
Past, Present, Future, together bound
In the simplest grass of the field is found!
The lane of life is a dreary lane
Whose course is over a flowery plain.
Who leaps the walls to enjoy the flowers
Forever loses the wasted hours.
The lane is long, and the lane is bare,
'Tis tiresome ever to journey there;
But on forever the soul must wend —
And who can tell where the lane will end?"
 
 
The thought was given. Its mission done,
The grass was cast to the dust and sun;
And the sun shone on it, and saw it die
With all three leaves turned toward the sky.
 

THE CACTUS

PROF. W. K. HIGLEY

BECAUSE the Greeks in olden times applied the word Cactus to a prickly plant, Linnæus, often called the Father of Botany, gave the same name to our wonderful American growth and since his time these strange and varied plants have borne this nomenclature.

We can hardly imagine any group of plants more interesting. There are over eight hundred varieties of curious and unexpected forms, bearing tubular or rotate flowers most varied in size and color – white, pink, purple, yellow, crimson, deep red – all beautiful and fascinating, and in our Northern country, protected in the conservatories. The Night-blooming Cereus is most renowned, most admired of all.

The Cacti are commonly found in the United States, in Mexico, and in South America, and some species are cultivated on the borders of the Mediterranean Sea, where the fruit is eaten.

They vary in size from an inch or two in height to enormous growths of fifty or sixty feet (Cereus giganteus) which stand like telegraph poles, sometimes nearly bare, sometimes with many vertical branches, reminding one of a huge candelabrum. Then again some forms are nearly spherical, while others are long, jointed, and square, one species (Echinocactus visnaga) grows about nine feet in height with a diameter of three feet or more and a single plant of this species will sometimes weigh a ton. One of our most common forms is flat and broad. This, the Prickly Pear or Indian Fig (Opentia Vulgario), is the only species found as far north as Wisconsin and New York.

As many of the Cacti require but little care, they are quite extensively cultivated, not only for the rare beauty of their flowers, but for economic purposes. However, nearly all are worthy of culture because of their peculiar forms.

In structure they are fitted for growth in the most arid regions; they abound in the deserts of New Mexico and southward, in many cases obtaining their food from a soil in which no other plant will grow, their thick coats enabling them to retain moisture and vitality for many weeks. Specimens of the Prickly Pear have been known to grow after lying on a dry floor, in a closed room, for six months and they have blossomed when left in this condition for some time.

These plants, which are more or less succulent, are usually protected from the ravages of animal life by a formidable array of spines and prickles. Those who have carelessly handled our common Prickly Pear can attest to the intensely irritating character of its defensive armor. Thus does nature provide for the care of its otherwise defenseless forms.

A form of the Prickly Pear (Opuntia coccinellifera) is cultivated in Mexico for the purpose of raising the Cochineal insect (Coccus cacti) which feeds upon it. Some of these plantations contain as many as 50,000 plants. The females are placed on the Cactus in August and in about four or five months the first gathering of the Cochineal takes place, being then ready for the market.

There are many other interesting uses to which these plants are put. When suffering from thirst animals will tear off the hard outer fibers and eagerly devour the moist, juicy interior of the stems. The Moki Indian basket makers use the fiber in their work. This they dye different colors and wind around the foundations, giving strength and beauty. The spines of one species (Echinocactus visnaga) are used by the Mexicans as toothpicks. It has been estimated that a single plant may bear upward of 50,000 spines.

A unique and beautiful sight was a group of Cacti blooming in a Colorado garden, where the owner had spent much time and expense in gathering together many varieties, and one was made to realize how remarkable a thing Nature had lavished upon us: for, as Mr. Grant Allen has said: "The Cactuses are all true American citizens by birth and training, and none of them are found truly indigenous in any part of the Old World."