Kitobni o'qish: «Birds and Nature, Vol. 10 No. 3 [October 1901]», sahifa 5

From what locality the Peruvians themselves obtained these gems is not known, unless it was the Colombian locality at Muso, already described. The Spaniards were led to these mines in 1558. They continued the working of them, and there has been practically no interruption in their operation since that time.

The ancients had many superstitions regarding the emerald, one being that it had a power to cure diseases of the eye. Another was that it would reveal the inconstancy of lovers by changing color.

 
“It is a gem that hath the power to show
If plighted lovers keep their troth or no.
If faithful, it is like the leaves of Spring;
If faithless, like those leaves when withering.”
 

So writes one poet.

Again, they believed the emerald would blind the eyes of the serpent:

 
“Blinded like serpents when they gaze
Upon the emerald’s virgin blaze.”
 

– Moore.

Of these traditions, perhaps the only one held in any esteem at the present time is that which associates the emerald with the month of June, making it the talismanic gem or “birth stone” of persons born in that month.

The largest and most beautiful emerald known to be in existence at the present time is one owned by the Duke of Devonshire. This is an uncut six-sided crystal about two inches long and of the same diameter. It is of perfect color, almost flawless and quite transparent.

Like all other gems, the value of emeralds varies much according to their perfection. Those of the best grade are worth at least one hundred dollars a carat. The color should be a dark velvety green, those of lighter shades being much less valuable. Owing to the extreme brittleness of the mineral, emeralds usually contain flaws, so that “an emerald without a flaw” has passed into a proverb to indicate a thing almost unattainable.

Aquamarine and other varieties of Beryl seem not to have been as highly esteemed as emerald by the ancients, although Beryl is mentioned in the Bible, and early writers describe gems evidently belonging to the species. They were probably less well known to the ancients, as nearly all the localities from which aquamarines and Beryls are now obtained are of comparatively modern discovery. They are gems in every way as worthy as the emerald, however, and will doubtless become more popular as their qualities are better known.

Oliver Cummings Farrington.

SONG BIRDS OF THE SOUTHWEST

 
“A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was,
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye.”
 

“New birds, new flowers, new pleasures,” I murmur as my vision widens upon the, to me, new world of Arizona. A new delight indeed, notwithstanding the often impressed fact that the old footpath-ways of Ohio are, after many years, still but half discovered countries. But ’tis human, this desire for novelty, and I am not at all in advance of my fellow kindred in arriving at that stage of blessed content which we see expressed upon every side of us in the lives of the lesser (?) creatures who abide without unrest until compelled by the necessities of necessity to “move on.” But I echo Richard Jefferies: “a fresh flower, a fresh path-way, a fresh delight,” and am so far content; and, truly, coming from the east of living greens, ’tis a new kingdom of somber mountains and sandy desert at which I have arrived. To an imaginative person it is a land filled with the echoes of a distant past, even now but half heard and in my mind the golden glow of a day that is dead enfolds the silent hills, a silence of grandeur, not of nature which is here alive and keen to the fullest extent. With many other naturalists, I agree that if one desires to learn the secrets of the field and forest, one must go about singly and alone. There is something strange about it too, while one person alone is allowed to see many of the inner movements of wild life, when two or three are gathered together, they seem to intimidate the wood folk to an unlimited extent.

But bird life in this far away territory, notwithstanding Dr. Charles Abbott’s experience to the contrary, seems to me to be much more companionable and less timid than in the more thickly populated east, and also, bird curiosity is more noticeable than in those states where generations of experience has obviated all desire for any close scrutiny or investigation of that queer biped without feathers. One has only to sit silent and quiet for a few moments to have his ornithological interest aroused by numerous visitors, who, with impatient “chips” and “twits” question his presence among them. While Gila county makes up her quota of song birds in quantity, she lacks something in decorative quality, at least so far as coloring of plumage is concerned. There is no question but what the very arid atmosphere of this section is not without its marked effect upon feather coloring, and on account of this dullness of plumage, I was at first unable to classify numbers of birds who were perfectly familiar to me in Ohio. Birds like the blue jay lose much of the metallic gorgeousness of their plumage and are under a veil as it were, showing a dull, bluish gray. The blackbirds also are decidedly rusty in appearance, hardly holding their own with the great glossy ravens (Corvus principalis) who have so adapted themselves to civilization as to have become almost a necessity as purveyors of edible refuse and debris which accumulates in such abundance about the abodes of mankind, who are supposedly the most hygienic and cleanly of all creatures, but whose abiding places ‘au natural’ present an unsightly spectacle in comparison with the nests of birds, but of course it is because our requirements are so much greater, and education has developed a love of “accumulations” among us, herein must lie all blame. But we “progress” or so we have determined.

However, I never see these dignified crows of stately motion moving about without remembering Virgil’s:

 
“The crow with clamorous cries the shower demands,
And single stalks along the desert sands.”
 

But in Arizona his demand for showers is vain, for the absence of the “rain maker” is her greatest deficit.

To return to the atmospheric or arid effect upon color, I fail to understand why the bleaching process is so observable in feathers, yet the most brilliant and tropical coloring predominates in the flora. Does the plant world absorb all of the richest coloring matter of the sunlight, or do they possess an antidote to the alkaline properties of the air? Is atmospheric moisture that is not obtainable necessary in feather coloring? Some of the plants here are sufficient unto themselves, brewing their own sustenance as it were, as I have seen the Bisnaga, sometimes called “Well of the Desert” in which a deep hole had been cut, produce in a short time at least a cup full of watery liquid, which is very invigorating to the thirsty traveler, and growing, too, in a sand as dry as powder, there not having been a drop of rain near it in months, if not years, and dew an unknown quantity. This liquor seems necessary for the full fruition of the rich, yellow flower, so carefully guarded by immense fish-hook spines or barbs that is such efficient protection to this species of cacti. As effectual is this protection as is the venomous reputation of that much maligned saurian, the Gila monster (Heloderma suspectum), which is not one-half so bad as his looks would imply, but he is formidable in appearance when he puffs forth his breath like a miniature steam engine and at the same time emits a greenish saliva from his mouth, which is to say the least a forbidding performance, but I really believe him to be comparatively harmless, for after considerable acquaintance with his habits, I have only learned of one person being bitten by this reptile, and that was a man who was drunk and insisted upon tickling the Gila monster on the mouth and was bitten for his pains. The reptile had to be killed before its teeth could be unlocked. As an antidote an attempt was made to fill the man with whisky, but as he was already full but little could be accomplished in that line; when he got sober he was all right save that his hand was somewhat paralyzed.

There is a marked gregariousness among the song birds of Arizona or else the present abundance of all species gives one that impression, for the numbers are almost countless, though human depredators are fast depopulating the songsters for the sake of their own pleasure or bird plumage for profit. While women anathematize men for their inordinate desire to kill something, they take an equivocal stand as critics, yet wearing a hat adorned with one or more dead bodies of birds. It is truly the old question of mote and beam re-enacted.

I do not remember of meeting with but one bird which I have been entirely unable to classify or even learn its common name if it has one. It darts in and out of a thorn bush after the manner of a thresher or cat bird, and about equals them in size; is of a dull canary yellow in color save for a rich red cap slightly tufted and worn jauntily on top of his head. I have never heard any note from him save a startled chip, and have been unable to learn anything about him from the various bird histories.

Dr. Abbott has remarked on the lack of vocal powers among the birds of Arizona, and says:

“I listened hour after hour to these cheerful birds, fancying there was melody in their attempts at song, and wondering why, when their lines had been cast in such forbidding places, the gift of sweet song had not been vouchsafed them. Does the extremely dry atmosphere have to do with it? Not a sound that I heard had that fulness of tone common to the allied utterances at home. At the limit of my longest stroll I heard a mountain mocking bird, as it is misnamed in the books, and his was a disappointed song. It was the twanging of a harp of a single string, and that a loose one.”

This absence of note richness is a feature that I have not observed, and never have I heard a more musical chorus from bird throats as one after another of the many sorts and conditions awoke at sunrise. Many a time have I listened while camping on a lone mountaintop, where our only canopy was the pine-fretted blue heavens, and heard the rich burst of song in which not a note lacked flavor; mocking birds, thrushes, orioles, wrens, finches, vireos, grosbeaks, robins (and their distinguishable note is likely to make one homesick) thrashers, blue birds, tanagers, etc., all filling in the score, as each was awakened and filled in the line of song, to say nothing of whip-poor-wills, owls and other night singers who have had “their day.” I feel sure if Dr. Abbott had given a little more time to the study of bird song in this territory he would have had no cause to complain of or discredit the vocal powers of these western songsters.

THE AFRICAN LION
(Felis leo.)

The African Lion, familiar to the general public as the sulky tenant of a barred cage, ranges with freer strides throughout the length and breadth of Africa, and even extends through Persia into the northwestern part of India. Fossil remains show that at one time Felis leo inhabited the southern part of Europe as well, but the king of beasts was evidently considered good sport by primitive man, and he became extinct in Europe except where, in the Roman amphitheatres, and in many a meaner cage since, he has roared for the edification of the populace.

The literature of all nations is full of allusions to the Lion; to his bravery, his grandeur and his strength. The old Assyrian kings carved pictures of themselves in bas relief hurling javelins into crouching Lions, and many a sportsman is to-day beating the thorn-thickets and trailing over the sandy plains of Africa with the same unreasoning enthusiasm, yet hoping, perhaps, in a vague way to hand down his name along with the Assyrian kings by writing a book. It is the Lion’s misfortune as well as his glory that he is king of beasts.

The Lion differs from the other Felidæ in the great strength and massive proportions of his head and shoulders, and more especially in the arrangement and growth of the hair on the body. Where, in other cats, the hair lies flat and close along the skin, the Lion is so clothed only on his yellowish-brown body. The hair of the top of the head and of the neck to the shoulders stands erect or bristles forward, forming the beautiful and characteristic mane of the adult male and suggesting in a way not otherwise possible the massive strength of the great paws, one blow from which will fell an ox or crush the skull of a man without an effort. In most Lions the mane is of a darker color than the remainder of the body, being often almost black. The elbows, tip of tail and the under parts of the body are also clothed with this long, bristly hair, but it is found only on males above three years of age. The females have smaller heads and shoulders and are of a uniform color.

In many minor ways the Lion is specially adapted for his predatory life. Every tooth in his head is sharp pointed or sharp edged. The great canine teeth are set far apart in his square jaws and locked together like a vice. The molars are transformed from grinders into incisors, yet are so strong that they will crack heavy bones. The papillæ on the tongue are so developed that they resemble long, horny spines curved backwards, giving the tongue the appearance of a coarse rasp. With this rough tongue the Lion can lick the meat from bones as easily as a house cat eats butter, and should a friendly Lion lick his keeper’s hand the flesh would be torn and the blood flow. The claws are very large and sharp, and are so nicely sheathed in the soft cushions of his feet that the Lion neither blunts nor wears them down. Yet when he strikes with tense paws every claw is like a hook and a dagger to tear and cut.

In seeking his prey the Lion lies in wait by springs and water holes and leaps upon his victims from the ambush of some bush or rock as yellow as his own tawny hide; or, failing in this, he sneaks up the wind and through the thickets and reeds of a watercourse or swamp and quickly leaps upon a surprised antelope or zebra or savage buffalo, crushing it to the ground by his great weight, while he strikes and tears it with paws and teeth. In cultivated districts the Lion prowls about the fields and villages, seizing cattle and sheep, and often, when he is old and lazy, rushes into some camp or hut at night and carries off a man. In many parts of Africa the natives build great corrals of thorns about their camps to keep the Lions away, and should one be heard in the night they light fires and wave torches until the dawn.

Under ordinary circumstances the Lion attends to his own hunting, and when seen in the daytime retreats to some denser cover where he will not be disturbed. This is often cited as an evidence of cowardice, but is such a common characteristic of big game and of animals, and even men of undoubted courage, that it should not be held against him. There is no animal in the world which can consistently hunt for trouble and survive, and so long as the Lion can keep his stomach filled and his sleep undisturbed he is probably content to waive the title of king of beasts.

Lion hunting has been held a royal sport in all times, with the result that the Lion has been exterminated in many parts of its natural habitat and forced back into the wilder parts of desert and plain. Unlike the tiger, the Lion is rarely found in forests, and is unable to climb trees. He is ordinarily stalked in the daytime, when, with stomach full, he sleeps among rocks and bushes, or shot from stands as he approaches some water hole or carcass by night. The literature of African exploration and travel abounds with accounts of Lions killed by men and men killed by Lions. In these days of zinc balls and repeating rifles it is generally the Lion that is killed. To the thorough-paced English sportsman like Sir Samuel Baker or Gordon Cumming the Lion hunt is recreation merely, and with their ten-bore rifles and British phlegm they are in no more danger than if they were chasing foxes through the dales of England.

The family life of the Lion is very interesting and human. So far as is known, a single male and female remain together year after year, irrespective of the pairing season, the Lion feeding and caring for his Lioness and cubs and educating the young in the duties of life. For two or three years the cubs follow their parents, so that Lions are often found in small troops. Cases have been reported where they have joined for a preconcerted hunt, and the Lioness often goes up the wind to startle game and drive it towards her ambushed mate, following after for a share of the prey. Hon. W. H. Drummond, in “The Large Game and Natural History of South and Southeast Africa,” gives the following account of the feast after the victim had been slain: “The Lion had by this time quite killed the beautiful animal, but instead of proceeding to eat it, he got up and roared vigorously until there was an answer, and in a few minutes a Lioness, accompanied by four whelps, came trotting up from the same direction as the zebra, which no doubt she had been to drive towards her husband. They formed a fine picture as they all stood round the carcass, the whelps tearing it and biting it, but unable to get through the tough skin. Then the Lion lay down, and the Lioness, driving her offspring before her, did the same, four or five yards off, upon which he got up and, commencing to eat, had soon finished a hind leg, retiring a few yards on one side as soon as he had done so. The Lioness came up next and tore the carcass to shreds, bolting huge mouthfuls, but not objecting to the whelps eating as much as they could find. There was a good deal of snarling and quarreling among these young Lions, and occasionally a standup fight for a minute, but their mother did not take any notice of them except to give them a smart blow with her paw if they got in her way. There was now little left of the zebra but a few bones, and the whole Lion family walked quietly away, the Lioness leading, and the Lion often turning his head to see that they were not followed, bringing up the rear.”