Birds and Nature Vol. 09 No. 3 [March 1901]

THE SANDPIPER. The White Pelican as it calmly floats on the surface of the water, some distance from the shore, has been mistaken for the sail of a boat as the moist white feathers glisten in the sunshine. Longfellow has beautifully woven this fact into the “Song of Hiawatha.” “O’er the water floating, flying, Something in the hazy distance, Something in the mists of morning, Loomed and lifted from the water, Now seemed floating, now seemed flying, Coming nearer, nearer, nearer. Was it Shingebis the diver? Or the pelican, the Shada? Or the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah? Or the white-goose, Waw-be-wawa, With the water dripping, flashing From its glossy neck and feathers? It was neither goose nor diver, Neither pelican nor heron O’er the water floating, flying, Through the shining mist of morning, But a birch canoe with paddles, Rising, sinking on the water.” Seth Mindwell. THE SANDPIPER. The glitter of the sunlit river In his flashing, fearless eye, There on his unwearied pinions See the bird go sailing by! Slender, sword-like wings, and dainty, How they cut the thin air now! And without a trace of languor Soars he to the mountain’s brow. Back again—for whim has moved him— And where rippling water lies, Scanning all the shore line closely, Light as thistle-down he flies! On the white sand scarce a footprint Makes he, touching here and there; Singing his two notes so gladly, Ah, this bird is passing fair! Sweet content in voice and motion; Following plash of many a wave; Or o’er pine that faces ocean Mounts this rover, gay and brave! —George Bancroft Griffith. A BIT OF BIRD GOSSIP. The sun shone brightly through the green leaves of the trees and crowned each tiny ripple on the lake with a glistening diamond. A Robin Redbreast hopped along the shore, picking up a few pebbles, for the poor thing has to wear her false teeth in her stomach, as it were, having no teeth in her head with which to chew her food. There was a rush of wings above her and she dropped the grain of sand with which she had thought to fill up her gizzard, cocked her smooth black head on one side and watched the approach of another bird. Was it friend or enemy? It proved to belong to the aristocratic family of Thrushes—real high-flyers among birds—who alighted on the same sandy shore and advanced “with many a flirt and flutter” to greet her old friend, for they had been neighbors in the same sunny orchard the year before. “So glad to meet you again, Mrs. Redbreast,” said the gracious Thrush in a most musical voice, “but are you not a long way from the willows on the river bank where I last had the pleasure of seeing you?” “Oh, we never finished that house among the willows. We became dissatisfied with the neighborhood,” answered Mrs. Redbreast, after performing the graceful courtesy of a well-bred bird, as are all Robin Redbreasts. “Ah, I was afraid of malaria when we looked the ground over together in the spring. It was too low, almost swampy. Mr. Thrush and I went to a little knoll about three miles away and built in the loveliest, the most fragrant wild crabapple tree you ever saw,” and Mrs. Thrush smoothed with shining beak a mottled feather on her handsome breast. “But would not those lovely blossoms tempt those creatures—boys, I think they are called—to climb until they found your home?” “The thorns stand sentinel and the thick leaves hide it well, and I wanted my children to grow up strong, and swift on the wing. They would never grow up well feathered and beautiful amid those lovely willows on account of the low ground,” replied the Thrush. “It was not malaria that caused us to abandon our half-built nest, but boys, some black as crows and some white as doves, kept coming to get materials for whistles. It seems that the very tree we chose had bark that slipped the easiest, and sometimes a flock of three or four would be perched on the limbs (they always sit astride, so awkwardly, you know), with jack-knives in their hands, and of course we could not stay. Robin wanted to come to the park—it is a lovely place—where those fine big creatures with bright stars on their gray coats are put to take care of us birds. Why,” she went on, “they will not let boys stone even an English Sparrow, but I think that is altogether too particular. There comes a party of the little cockneys now,” as a handful of winged brown balls came fluttering through the air close to the heads of the larger birds, who could easily have put them to flight if they would but try. However, they ducked their heads and scampered into the weeds, leaving the smooth shore to the new-comers, who dipped and splashed in the shallow edge of the lake as if they enjoyed it mightily. “Just see the horrid little things washing themselves in water, but they never can get clean. Why, my Robin, who is a very venturesome fellow and sometimes follows the boulevards almost into the heart of the city, says that he has seen them in the dirty city streets washing themselves in the dust like common barnyard fowls.” “Don’t let’s look at them,” exclaimed Mrs. Thrush. “They are doing it just because it looks respectable, and they know that we wash in water;” and the two birds spread their wings and swept disdainfully away from the neighborhood of the Sparrows. “And where did you finally build, Mrs. Redbreast?” asked the other as they settled gracefully on the shore a half a mile away. “Well, Robin, as I said, wanted very much to live in the park. He is so fond of company, but I told him there were too many children on the grass. Why, they are as thick as dandelions any fine day, and in spite of the care of the great gray creatures it would be impossible to safely teach our children to fly. We finally found a lovely suburban place within easy flying distance of the park. An apple tree with perfect branches for a nest grew in the back yard, the cherry trees were white with bloom and the whole place fragrant with the blossoms of the grape. There was a flat jar always kept filled with water for the birds, with a stone in it that reached nearly to the surface on which to stand while bathing. The water made the birds come in flocks, so that the place was gay with songs, and really that yard was a little Eden. But you know,” she went on, dropping her voice, “there is a story of something terrible that walked in the garden of Eden, and I think it was a black cat, for that is what walks in our garden. He lies on the back steps in the sunshine pretending to be asleep, but where his eyes ought to be in that big black ball he calls his head I can see a narrow yellow stripe, and out of that stripe of yellow he watches every bird that comes.” “Does he get any birds?” asked the Thrush in an awe-struck whisper. The Redbreast shook her black head sadly. “Every now and then his mistress finds him with feathers in his whiskers, and she scolds him. But there is a serpent in every Eden,” she added philosophically; “if it isn’t cats it’s boys.” “Did you ever hear what became of the family of Wrens that lived in the honeysuckle over the back door?” asked Mrs. Thrush, who cared more for gossip than moralizing. “They were so pleasant and cheery.” “Oh, yes. We started south before they left and I haven’t seen them since. They were a proud little folk, that made believe they were not proud, always wearing the finest clothes, yet in such sober colors. I always called them stuck up.” “Their tails certainly were—he, he, he,” giggled Mrs. Thrush. “Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Mrs. Redbreast. “That’s pretty good. I must tell that to Robin. But don’t you remember,” she went on, “the Blue Jays that lived in the elm tree down the lane?” “I never thought them very well-bred,” replied Mrs. Thrush, bridling prettily, for she and her family pride themselves on their correct behavior. “Wonderfully pretty, but too loud.” “Altogether too gay and noisy. Mrs. Jay was a great scold, and Blue almost as bad. You could hear them all over the neighborhood. Well, they lost all their children by a Hawk, though Mrs. Jay fought bravely for her little ones, and Blue proved himself a real hero. She over-exerted herself, however, and died shortly after of nervous prostration. I saw a girl, who had found her body, spreading out her poor dead wings and holding them up against her hat. She finally wrapped Mrs. Jay up in her handkerchief and carried her away.” “If women would only be satisfied with the wings of a bird that had died a natural death we would not complain,” said Mrs. Thrush, as she folded her own pretty wings a little closer. “Blue Jay married again right away, of course,” she went on, as she dropped a little red ant down among the mill stones of her gizzard to be ground up. “He did not even wait the conventional two weeks. If I thought Robin Redbreast would be looking out for another housekeeper so soon after my death he would not have such a good wife as he has to-day. He would have to hunt more worms and bugs than he does, instead of just bringing home a little bit of dessert in the shape of cherries or grapes to please the children;” and the mother fluffed up her feathers alarmingly. “That makes me think,” said Mrs. Thrush, “that I promised the children an especially nice supper to-night if they would not chirp or stick up their heads and look over the edge of the nest. They are really getting so big now that Mr. Thrush and I can do nothing with them. Last night when I went home I found my eldest son, Brown Thrush, sitting on the edge of the nest, and he is taller——” Just then a large shadow wavered over the sunshiny sward, and with a scared exclamation of “Hawk!” the birds flew swiftly in different directions, not waiting to see that the object which cast the shadow was nothing but a harmless paper kite. S. E. McKee. MARBLED MURRELET. (Brachyramphus marmoratus.) About ½ Life-size. FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES. THE MARBLED MURRELET. ( Brachyramphus marmoratus. ) This little bird belongs to the family of auks and puffins, the guillemots and the dovekie. It is the sea bird family (Alcidae) for all the species are maritime, spending most of their time on the ocean. Nearly all the species frequent the Pacific coast of North America. A few are, however, found on the Atlantic coast. They seem to frequent the wildest and most rocky shores and generally congregate in large colonies which may include several species. Their structure unfits them for locomotion on the land where they move in an uncouth and awkward manner, but they are agile and quick swimmers and expert divers. It is said that they will remain under water for several minutes, swimming for long distances. They use their wings in diving. The Marbled Murrelet inhabits the coast of the Pacific ocean from San Diego, California, northward, breeding only in the northern part of its range. These birds are seldom found at any great distance inland. It is said that their nests, like those of the petrels, are built in holes in banks or in burrows in the ground. They have also been known to lay their eggs in the open crevices of cliffs where but little effort is made to build a nest other than the gathering together of a few sticks and twigs. The ovate eggs are of a buffy color and are marked with varying shades of brown. BEFORE THE STORM. A whir and sweep of snow-white wings, Soft brown-flecked breasts, now here, now there A-sway upon the ragged weeds Or darting through the wintry air. I watch you from the frosted pane Beside the glowing hearth-stone warm, And shudder as I hear the wail Of angry winds before the storm. —Mary Morrison. BOY-CHICKADEE. I doubt if any one was ever haunted by a more commonplace object than a fence-post; yet, terminating a fence that borders a little farm, there is a gray old post which has haunted my imagination for several years. The fence has long ceased to fence anything in or out; the uppermost rail is the only one left and that is fastened to my post about five inches from the top. Just under the lee of that rail is a round hole which is rather jagged about the lower edge as if gnawed by sharp little teeth. Every time I travel that road I am impelled to stop and put a finger into that hole. I always expect to discover a secret, yet never do. Still, the post haunts me for once Boy-Chickadee kept house there. Boy-Chickadee is one of our smallest birds. He wears a dumpy little gray coat surmounted by a pair of bright black eyes under a velvety black cap. Dear to the heart of every bird-lover, he is especially so in winter. It is then that his crystal pendulum of song swings lightly to and fro where other bird-song is rare. It is rather plaintive—two minor notes swing to the left, then two more to the right—and seems to belong only to frosty mornings. Boy-Chickadee stays to wish you “A Merry Christmas” and “A Happy New Year,” and comes daily to dine on sunflower seeds stowed in a large gourd for him. I should be ashamed to say how many seeds he consumes at a sitting, or flitting better describes it. He flits in for a seed, then out to the apple-tree to hammer it, uttering gurgles of content all the while. He spends so much time eating them that I eye my store anxiously wondering if it will hold out under such onslaughts. Sometimes he brings a companion and they take turns going into the gourd. His British enemies tag him enviously and hang about the gourd-door; but it is cut too small for them and they can only gaze in. It is Boy-Chickadee’s cache. In summer time Chickadee deserts us and we must seek him in the fields, and that is how we came to find the fence-post. We sat waiting for birds to bathe, but waited in vain. They bathed up-stream and they bathed down-stream. We saw them drying their feathers, but they would not bathe by us. A dripping Chickadee flew overhead and sat preening his feathers in a sweetgum tree. How nearly we had come to seeing that bath! (a thing we had never achieved). In despair we crossed the road and hid behind the sassafras hedge. Presently something strange passed us and there was Dame Chickadee with a very queer burden. Imagine yourself with a mouthful of excelsior larger than your head, and you will have some idea of her comical appearance. She peered at us from behind her treasure first with one eye and then with the other. We were all attention. A dozen times she darted towards the old fence, but we were too alarming and she could not make up her mind to brave us. Each time she retreated to the sweetgum, holding tight to her bundle—it might have been a clematis blossom, I could not say. It was the first time I had ever seen a Chickadee look self-conscious. At the same time we saw that Boy-Chickadee had dipped in once more and was dripping wet. It was maddening. At last she made a wide curve towards us and disappeared. I sprang to the fence-post and discovered the round hole, and with an ecstatic catch of the breath I put one finger in. A bunch of indignant feathers hurled itself against my hand and out came the finger and out came she and whisked away with such lightning rapidity that we barely saw her. The hole was too deep and too well shadowed to tell us anything more than that it had a secret in its keeping and although we should have liked to camp by the post it was not to be. At our next visit we found Dame Chickadee setting and Boy Chickadee feeding her; again, and the post had become a nursery. It seemed too ludicrous that such babes-in-the-woods should ever attain to the dignity of fatherhood and motherhood; but this time neither parent was there to be laughed at, and as I tapped at the door a perfectly intelligible “Day-day-day-day” came from the nursery; the babes had already learned to talk! It was so long before we visited them again that we expected to find the post deserted. There was no sign of occupancy and I felt depressed because it was all over. But a gentle tap brought a tiny, angular cranium and a careworn baby face to the door. It didn’t seem possible that Boy Chickadee could have such a homely bairn! We withdrew in haste when he threatened to come out; but we had summoned him and the moment had come to seek his fortune. The youngster stepped into the door and set sail straight across the wide roadway. When we caught a rear view of the tiny sailboat our gravity was undone, for not a vestige of tail adorned it and he was the most unfinished fledgling we had ever seen. This was the last sign of life the old fence-post yielded, but I cannot learn to believe it final. I am constantly expecting to see more Chickadees set sail, and its possibilities still haunt me. Elizabeth Nunemacher. THE STORY BIRD. The parrot has been called the “bird-man” on account of its intelligence; but so many anecdotes are told of it that it might well be styled the Story-bird. Of the four hundred and thirty different species known, America claims one hundred and twenty-six. Europe is the only large country that does not possess native tribes of parrots. The parrot is the monkey of the feathered world, because of his imitative powers. He also uses one of his feet as a hand to carry what he eats to his beak. A parrot possessed of remarkable linguistic powers, being able to speak in Spanish, Portuguese, French, German and English, was accustomed whenever a visitor was at all boisterous to imitate his laugh and then groan in anguish, exclaiming in tones of commiseration, “Poor, poor Polly!” A cardinal is said to have paid a hundred crowns for a parrot that could recite without a blunder the Apostles’ creed and chant the Magnificat correctly. An attempt was once made to reform a bad parrot which kept saying, in reference to his mistress, “I wish the old lady would die.” The curate sent over his own bird, that had been religiously trained, hoping its influence would have a good effect on the bad bird. But whenever the latter said, “I wish the old lady would die,” the clergyman’s bird rolled up its eyes and exclaimed, “We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.” Belle P. Drury. THE BEAR. Though the Bear is classed with the Carnivora, or flesh-eating animals, it is really omnivorous in the best acceptance of that word, for it will thrive on a vegetable diet for many weeks at a time. Bears will devour the various kinds of berries, grains, the succulent leaves of herbs and the fleshy roots, with evident relish. There is, perhaps, no more dainty morsel for them than the young and tender buds of trees and shrubs as they are prepared by Nature, wrapped in their winter covering and containing an abundant food, stored there for the nourishment of the growth of the coming season—a food useful to the animal as well as the plant. The young seem to depend entirely on vegetable food, but as they grow older, though still preferring the products of the plant, they will eat a variety of animal forms, such as insects, mollusks, crustaceans, worms, birds and their eggs. When driven by hunger they will kill and eat larger prey, such as deer and domestic cattle. They will also devour the dead bodies of animals freshly killed, but only before there is any taint or odor. Thus, though Bears have the structural characteristics of the flesh-eating animals, this classification is misleading to the untutored observer who watches them in our menageries or even in their native homes. The Polar Bears are perhaps the most carnivorous of them all, living almost entirely on animal food, when in their natural homes. The Grizzly Bear is also a flesh-eating species, though it will subsist on a vegetable diet. It is an interesting fact that the nature of their food seems to determine the degree of strength and the ferocity that they possess. The influence of the diet is shown not only on the various species but also upon the individuals of the same species. The Bears fed only upon vegetable foods exhibit a much milder disposition and are less resentful when crossed. Bears are distributed throughout the world except in Australia. In the words of Brehm, “They inhabit the warmest as well as the coldest of countries, high mountains as well as the coasts of the Arctic Sea. Nearly all species select dense, extensive forests or rocky regions, generally lonely spots. Some delight in watery or damp situations, streams, rivers, lakes, swamps and the sea, while others prefer stretches of dry land. One species is confined to the sea-coast and seldom penetrates the depths of the continent, but still undertakes more extensive migrations than the others, traversing great distances on drift ice, crossing the northern Arctic Ocean and migrating from one continent to the other.” Besides the bears of the present day there are extinct forms, remains of which occur in the later geologic ages. The Great Cave Bear, remains of which have been found in the caves of Central Europe, indicate that this species was even larger than our Polar Bear, which may measure nine feet in length. The opinion is prevalent that the movements of the Bear are awkward and slow and that they are neither fleet nor active in locomotion. This is true, to a certain extent, in the case of the larger species, though they are endowed with great endurance. On the other hand the smaller species are notably quick and active in their motions. In fact all species when excited will pass over the ground at a rapid rate, their strides resembling a sort of gallop. All climb, especially when young or until their great weight prevents them from doing so. A few of the species are excellent swimmers and can remain under water for some time. The Polar Bear well illustrates this characteristic, for it has been seen many miles from the shore, swimming easily and showing a wonderful power of endurance. BLACK BEAR. (Ursus americanus.) Greatly reduced. FROM COL. JOSEPH STEPPAN. We are told that “some species are sensible and sagacious and may be trained to a certain extent; but they exhibit no high mental development. Some individuals become very tame, though they display no particular affection for their master and keeper. They always revert to their grosser animal instincts in old age, for then they become wicked, intractable and violent. The Bears signify their various moods by modulations of their remarkable voices, finding utterance in dull growling, snorting and murmuring, or grunting, whistling and sometimes barking sounds.” A family of young Bears consists of from one to six, which are fed and protected in the most tender manner by their watchful and careful mother. Born naked and blind, it is usually five or six weeks before they can see and have a seasonable coat of hair. After this, they are full of life and very playful, and their antics are very amusing. Bears may be classed under three groups; the Sea Bears, the Land Bears and the Honey Bears. The Polar or White Bear is the only representative of the first class. This species has been wonderfully provided for by Nature. Living as it does in the regions of perpetual ice and snow, the pure white color of its fur becomes a protection, as it is less easily observed. It also, unlike the other species, has the soles of its feet covered with hair which enables it to move more freely and safely on the ice. They have been noted at a distance of fully fifty miles from the nearest shore, swimming without effort and showing no fatigue. One of the best known of the Land Bears is the Brown Bear of Northern Europe and Asia. It varies greatly and some authorities divide it into several distinct species. It is easily tamed and because of the ease with which it supports itself on its hind feet it is often taught to step to the sound of music. Here also is classed the Grizzly Bear, which is nearly as large as the Polar Bear and much more ferocious. It has been known to attack the bison and carry a body weighing one thousand pounds or more to its den some distance away. The Black Bear of our illustration is also a member of this class. It is a native of the wooded parts of North America. This species is timid though agile, strong and is of great endurance. Its fur is soft and even and shining black in color. It can run more swiftly than can a man and will escape in this manner if possible. Though it principally feeds on herbs, fruits and grains, it will also devour live stock of the smaller kinds and may even attack cattle. In captivity they are much better natured than the other species. “They never make hostile use of their strength in their relations with their keepers, but completely acknowledge human supremacy and present no difficulties in their training. At any rate, they fear their keeper more than he does them.” The third class is illustrated by a single species, the Sloth, or Honey Bear, also called the Aswal. It is a native of India and frequents hilly localities. It feeds upon fruits, honey and the lower animals, such as ants and the grubs of various insects. It also enjoys the comb and honey of bees. With its large and scythe-shaped claws it will destroy the strongly built homes of the white ants. In its native country the Sloth is trained by jugglers to perform many tricks and in captivity it is docile and comparatively good-natured. BIRD INCIDENTS. Wrens versus Sparrows: Some time since in the early spring, a pair of English Sparrows made up their minds to take possession of a bird house in our garden which a pair of Wrens had occupied for two previous years. Mr. and Mrs. Wren had not yet arrived, so there was none to dispute the sparrows’ right or suspend operations. All went well and the nest was nearing completion, when one bright sunny morning, the former occupants arrived on the scene and trouble at once began. They evidently resented the action of the sparrows in taking the house which they anticipated using for a summer residence. An indictment of evacuation was at once served and being met by a show of sparrow impudence, forcible expulsion was next in order. Mr. Wren took up his position on the front porch of the little house, and by a series of savage attacks and much loud scolding, succeeded in keeping the pair of sparrows off, while Mrs. Wren, working with desperate determination, proceeded to tear the nest apart and carrying the materials out the little back door, scattered them in all directions. My! what a shower of hay, straw, feathers, sticks, etc. This was continued until the house was entirely cleared. Then, without delay, began the process of reconstruction. During this time the sparrows did not sit idly by and see their work destroyed, but there was a continuous battle between them, and when the action became too pressing, both Wrens would make a grand charge which invariably resulted in driving the enemy back. By and by the new nest was finished, and although bad feeling existed for several days afterward, with frequent passages at arms, the sparrows finally gave up the fight as hopeless, and Mr. Wren mounted the chimney, standing guard, and at the same time giving vent to his feelings in loud and spirited song. Of course, our sympathies were with the victors. Cat Bird and Cherry Stone: During one of my many rambles through the woods, I discovered the nest of a Cat Bird in a thick clump of briars and upon drawing near found it contained four little ones. Retreating for a short distance, I stopped and watched the mother bird who was greatly excited at first, but seeing that I meant no harm to her little family, she proceeded with household matters. After giving the young ones two or three worms and other choice morsels, she brought a good-size red cherry and offered it to one of the nestlings. The little bird could not swallow it, so what did the mother do but take the cherry out of its mouth, remove the stone with her beak and feet, and then give it back to the nestling in a crushed state. This time it disappeared in a trice. The incident impressed me as being not only amusing but an excellent illustration of “bird sense.” Chippies Dividing Crumbs: While sitting under a shade tree in the yard, I observed a pair of Chippies eating two crumbs of bread. One crumb was much larger than the other, and of course the bird having the smaller one finished first. Then what! Simply this, the other Chippy at once broke his crumb in half and proceeded to place a portion of it within reach of his mate. In this way each had nearly an equal amount. Beautiful incident; well might man take this lesson home to himself; what an exhibition of love and generosity; what a different world this would be if people acted more on the principle of these innocent little birds! Berton Mercer. SEA-MEWS IN WINTER TIME. I walked beside a dark gray sea, And said, “O world, how cold thou art! Thou poor white world, I pity thee, For joy and warmth from thee depart. “Yon rising wave licks off the snow, Winds on the crag each other chase, In little powdery whirls they blow The misty fragments down its face. “The sea is cold, and dark its rim, Winter sits cowering on the world, And I, besides this watery brim, Am also lonely, also cold.” I spoke, and drew toward a rock, Where many mews made twittering sweet; Their wings upreared, the clustering flock Did pat the sea-grass with their feet. A rock but half submerged, the sea Ran up and washed it while they fed; Their fond and foolish ecstasy A wondering in my fancy bred. Joy companied with every cry, Joy in their food, in that keen wind, That heaving sea, that shaded sky, And in themselves, and in their kind. The phantoms of the deep at play! What idless graced the twittering things; Luxurious paddlings in the spray, And delicate lifting up of wings. Then all at once a flight, and fast The lovely crowd flew out to sea; If mine own life had been recast, Earth had not looked more changed to me. “Where is the cold? Yon clouded skies Have only dropped their curtains low To shade the old mother when she lies, Sleeping a little, ’neath the snow. “The cold is not in crag, nor scar, Not in the snows that lap the lea, Not in yon wings that beat afar, Delighting, on the crested sea; “No, nor in yon exultant wind That shakes the oak and bends the pine. Look near, look in, and thou shalt find No sense of cold, fond fool, but thine!” With that I felt the gloom depart, And thoughts within me did unfold, Whose sunshine warmed me to the heart: I walked in joy, and was not cold. —Jean Ingelow. SNAILS OF POND, RIVER AND BROOK. Many of my readers have doubtless kept an aquarium at some time in their life and have stocked it with several goldfish, a small turtle and some fresh-water snails. They have also, without doubt, stood in front of the aquarium and watched the strange antics of each of the three kinds of animals and have wondered at the swiftness with which the little snails progressed about the glass sides of the artificial pond. It is of these molluscan denizens of fresh water that I shall write in this article. In the fresh-water species the shell is not often rounded like that of the land snails, but is more frequently long and pointed, the spire resembling a church steeple. The animal, too, differs very greatly, the tentacles being either flat and triangular or long and very tapering. The eyes are not placed at the end of the eye-peduncles, as in the land shells, but are generally situated on little swellings at the base of the tentacles. They may be found in almost any body of water, adhering to stones, sticks, and other submerged objects, or crawling over the sandy or muddy bottom. Our fresh-water snails may be divided into two classes; first, those which breathe by means of a lung and which must come to the surface at regular intervals to take in a supply of air, and, second, those which breathe by means of plume-like gills which take the oxygen directly from the water. One of the most common and best known of the first class is the Limnaeidae, comprising the pond snails. These animals have generally a long, graceful shell, horn-colored for the most part, but sometimes greenish without and reddish within the aperture. The animal has a broad, flat foot, an auriculate or eared head, and flat, triangular tentacles. The habits of these animals are very interesting. They will wander about the sides of an aquarium, eating the growths of green scum which have collected. At this time the mouth may be seen to open, exposing the radula and the operation of eating is not unlike the motions of a cat lapping milk. They are such voracious eaters that the dirtiest aquarium will be cleansed by them in a very short time. It is interesting to note that the young animals breathe air through the water for a long time, and finally acquire the normal characteristic of the family of breathing the air directly. While submerged, the mantle chamber containing the “lung” is tightly closed so that no water can possibly get in. It is thought by some that the species of Limnaea living at great depths retain the early habit of allowing the water to fill the mantle cavity and so breathe oxygen through the water and are not, therefore, compelled to come to the surface for air. Limnaea lives under many varying conditions, being found in the arctic regions of Greenland and Iceland as well as in the tropics, in thermal springs and those containing mineral matter, as sulphur, as well as in brackish and fresh water. They have been found at a height of over fourteen thousand feet in Thibet and at a depth of eight hundred feet in Lake Geneva, Switzerland. During times of drought when the streams are dried up and the surface of the mud is sun-cracked, the species of this family bury themselves deeply in the mud and cover the aperture with an epiphragm, in much the same manner as the land shells. This fact accounts for the apparent disappearance of all life from a pond when it dries up, and its sudden and seemingly unaccountable reappearance when the pond is again filled with water. A genus of pond snails closely allied to Limnaea, but having discoidal or spiral shells, is Planorbis, the flat-orb shells. Instead of dragging their shells after them, as in the last genus, they carry them perfectly perpendicular, or perhaps tilted a little to one side. The animals are very rapid in movement, more so than Limnaea, which are rather sluggish. They delight in gliding rapidly about, their long, filiform tentacles waving about like a whip in the hands of an impatient driver. LAND AND RIVER SHELLS. FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES. Top row: Physa gyrina (U. S.) Melania tetrica (Viti Islands.) Angitrema verrucosa (U. S.) Second row: Planorbis trivolvis (U. S.) Third row: Pleurocera elevatum (U. S.) Ampullaria depressa (U. S.) Limnaea stagnalis (U. S.) Bottom row: Vivipara contectoides (U. S.) Campeloma subsolidum (U. S.) Limnaea megasoma (U. S.) The Limnaeas of which we have been speaking have mostly dextral or right-handed shells, that is, have the aperture on the right side when you hold the shell in the position pictured on our plate. In the family Physidae the shell is left-hand or sinistral. The members of this family have shining, horn-colored shells, more or less fusiform. The tentacles are long and filiform and are constantly moving about as in the allied genus Planorbis. The animal is very active and moves about with a steady, gliding motion. It is very interesting to watch a number of Physae in an aquarium; as they are crawling along the bottom, one will be seen to rise suddenly to the top of the water and move along with the foot applied to the surface, the shell hanging down. Again, they may be seen descending, suspended by a thin thread of mucus. When the animal rises suddenly, the branchial cavity which contains the lung is heard to open with a faint, clicking sound, which is probably due to the pressure of air in the lung being suddenly liberated. Several of the species of Physa inhabit water as cold as the freezing point and they may be frequently seen in winter gliding over the bottom of a stream or pond when the surface is frozen. The little glairy, transparent masses of jelly-like matter which are seen attached to stones and the under side of sticks, are the eggs of Physa or Limnaea. Not all of the fresh-water pulmonates have spiral shells. A whole family, the Ancylidae, have a conical shell formed like a rounded shield, and resembling the limpets, hence called the river limpets. They are generally quite small and live attached to the interior of dead river shells and to submerged plants and to rocks. They are very interesting, but hard to find on account of their small size and inconspicuous habitat. The second class of mollusks or those that breathe air through the water, have a respiratory cavity instead of a lung, in which is placed a series of leaflets, arranged like the teeth of a comb in two series of lines, forming the so-called gills. The mouth, also, is placed at the end of a long rostrum, or proboscis, and not in the lower plane of the head, as in the first class. Among the most common of this class are the river snails, known as Strepomatids. There are about three hundred species in this family, and with two or three exceptions they are confined entirely to the United States in geographical distribution. The shells are more or less graceful, having long, turreted spires and small apertures. The color of the shells is generally a uniform greenish or yellowish, although some species have color bands, and the aperture is frequently tinged with purple or reddish. The animal is very interesting in captivity. It is not very bold and will lie on the bottom of an aquarium with its head and foot half protruding from its shell, and its rostrum and tentacles slowly moving about. Frequently it may be seen moving along with its head and rostrum bent down and moving about like a hound on the scent. A family closely allied to the last is the Melaniidae, the animals of which inhabit the entire world, except North America. They may be distinguished from the last family by the presence of little finger-like digitations on the edge of the mantle. The shells are generally larger and more highly colored than those of the last family, many of them being of a dark chocolate color and some are of a beautiful glossy black; some shells are smooth, while others are ornamented by knobs and spines. The genus Melania, a species of which is illustrated on the plate accompanying this article, is the most characteristic form. The largest and handsomest of the fresh-water snails belong to the two families Viviparidae and Ampullariidae, the shells of the latter family frequently attaining a length of three inches. The animals of the first family prefer a sandy beach in a large lake or river, while those of the second generally live in more or less muddy rivers, ponds and creeks. A single genus of Viviparidae (Campelona) is confined solely to the United States, east of the Rocky Mountains. Their shells are generally of a rich grass green and in certain localities they may be collected by the thousands. Unlike many of the snails of which we have been writing, this family is viviparous, that is, brings forth its young alive, instead of laying eggs, as in the family Limnaeidae. This character has given the family its name, which is certainly well chosen. When born the shell is about one-sixteenth of an inch in length and is perfectly transparent. The animal is very active and eats voraciously of any vegetation within reach. Another handsome shell belonging to this group is the Vivipara contectoides, which is about an inch in length and is encircled by several color bands. It is a common shell in many of our ponds. Somewhat larger and handsomer than the Viviparas are the Ampullarias, or apple-shells (also called idol-shells and pond snails). These animals live mostly in tropical and subtropical regions and are noted for the tenacity with which they retain their hold on life. So tenacious of life are they that instances are known of their living for several years away from the water, in this respect resembling some of the land snails. It is also recorded that hollow pieces of logwood from Honduras have frequently contained specimens of this family alive after a journey of thousands of miles. They may be said to be truly amphibious. The writer has collected in Florida the large Ampullaria depressa in considerable numbers. It was noted particularly that this species furnished the principal food of the Everglade Kite, a bird inhabiting the southern part of Florida. Large quantities of these shells were found about the nesting places of these birds, from which the animal had been neatly extracted without damaging the shell in the least. The bird is, curiously enough, provided with a curved bill which easily fits into the aperture of the mollusk and extracts the animal with little difficulty, and the feet and claws are so constructed that the shell may be firmly held during the operation. This shell is figured on the plate. In Central Africa there is a lake, Tanganyika, having a length of four hundred miles and a width of from ten to fifty miles, and at an elevation of twenty-seven hundred feet above sea level, which has one of the most interesting and peculiar fresh-water molluscan faunas known. It is thought that at some remote period in geological history this lake formed a part of the ocean and that in the course of time it was cut off from the sea, gradually became fresh and was finally raised to its present elevation. The reason for such a theory is the presence in the lake of certain molluscan organisms whose shells closely resemble those of the salt water family, Littorinidae (Periwinkles). The fact that certain species of the family inhabit brackish water and are even subject to the influence of fresh water, adds additional weight to this theory. The shell of this species (Limnotrochus thomasi) also resembles certain of the top-shells (Trochus), which are marine in habitat. Most of the other species inhabiting this lake are like the fresh water Viviparas in form. The animal of Ampullaria depressa is very curious and interesting when studied alive. The foot is very wide, almost square in some positions; the head is narrow, separated from the body by a neck and the region of the mouth is produced into two long, cylindrical, tapering, tentacular processes, which are probably tactile organs like the elongated lips of Glandina, described in the last article. On the top of the head are placed the two whip-like tentacles, which are longer than the length of the whole animal and are always waving about when the animal is in motion. Just back of the tentacles the eyes are placed at the end of two short, rounded prominences or peduncles. From the left edge of the aperture extends the long, hollow, cylindrical siphon formed by two extensions of the mantle. On the upper side of the posterior end of the foot is placed the horny, concentric operculum or door. When the animal withdraws into its shell the head first disappears with its appendages and the siphon, and the foot is doubled up in the middle, the operculum shutting in last and closing the interior against all enemies. All of the different groups of the mollusca have their giants and their pigmies and the fresh-water mollusks are no exception to the rule. We have thus far studied the animals of normal size and the giants. Let us now turn our attention to some of the pigmies among the fresh-water snails. One of the commonest of these small mollusks is the Bythinia tentaculata, the shell of which does not exceed half an inch in length, and is formed in a graceful, tapering turret. This species, like many other European animals, has been introduced into this country and bids fair to eclipse many of the native species in the number of individuals. It probably first came over with some merchandise, which was shipped west by the way of the Erie canal. The snail, once established in the canal, has had every opportunity to spread over the entire United States. The canal is emptied every year and cleaned and the water, with its organisms, is allowed to flow into the little streams and the larger rivers and thence into Lake Ontario. From this lake this species has spread so that it is also found in Lakes Erie and Michigan, and will eventually spread over the entire northern portion of the United States. This is but one of the many examples of different species being carried by human agencies from one part of the world to another. But there are many species of these smaller fresh-water snails that are pigmies, indeed, whose tiny shells do not exceed an eight of an inch in length and which require the aid of a microscope to adequately study their delicate organisms. These minute animals live on water plants and on any submerged object. They vary from long, pointed, steeple-like shells to those which are perfectly rounded like a miniature apple. In our own country these little creatures may be found in any of our ponds or streams, and the lively little animals are well worth a closer acquaintance. They are known scientifically under the difficult names of Paludinella, Amnicola, Somatogyrus, Fluminicola, with many others, and do not bear any specific English titles. Much more might be written concerning the habits and variations of the freshwater snails. The best way to become acquainted with these interesting animals is to collect them alive and study their various modes of life in an aquarium. This receptacle need not be an elaborate or expensive affair. A fish globe six or eight inches in diameter makes an admirable aquarium and even a quart Mason fruit jar has been successfully used by the writer. The bottom should be covered to a depth of an inch or more with clean, fine sand and several stones should be introduced for the snails to “roost” upon. If the aquarium is large enough a few water plants like water cress might be introduced to assist in purifying the water. The best Mollusks for this purpose are the Limnaea, the Planorbis, the Physa, the Vivipara and some of the “pigmies” just mentioned. Much can be learned concerning the habits of our common snails if a record is kept of everything the animal does, such as its mode of eating, what it will eat and the increase in size from day to day of the little snails after they are hatched from the egg. If these creatures could be considered by the majority of people as living, breathing animals, performing many of the functions carried on by our own bodies they would be regarded with more favor and hence aquaria would become more numerous and they would also be studied more intelligently. The writer has been frequently amused (and sometimes pained) by the careless question of some otherwise intelligent person, when he has been exhibiting the shell of some interesting mollusk, “Well, really, now, was that thing ever alive?” It is to be earnestly hoped that this series of articles will reach many of this class of people and lead them to a better understanding of these lowly creatures. Frank Collins Baker.

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