The Swan And Her Crew Part 27

"I have had more pleasure in watching them than you have had in shooting them, Frank," said d.i.c.k.

It must not be thought that d.i.c.k was mawkishly sentimental, but he had not the organ of destructiveness that Frank had, and it was, as he said, quite as much sport to him to see and watch birds and animals as to shoot them. Therefore, when the others went flapper-shooting their order of going ranged in this wise:--

Frank, armed with his double-barrelled muzzle-loader (for breech-loaders had not yet come into general use), took one side of the d.y.k.e, and Jimmy, with a single-barrel he had bought second-hand, took the other side, while d.i.c.k took the punt along the d.y.k.e ready to act the part of a retriever.

It was one of those still, hot days when the distant woods lie brooding in a blue haze. The labours of the breeding-season over, the birds were resting silently, and there was no sound but the monotonous hum of insect-life. On the wide marshes all objects were distorted by the quivering of the evaporating moisture, and the long straight d.y.k.es and drains gleamed back defiantly at the sun. Frank and Jimmy trudged valiantly through the rustling flags and reeds by the water-side, and d.i.c.k pulled the punt along a little behind them.

"Shooting is no fun this weather," said Frank, stopping to wipe the perspiration from his brow.

Just then a wild-duck rose from the reeds, followed by half-a-dozen young ones. They rose on Frank's side of the d.y.k.e, so it was his turn to shoot. He dropped his hat and handkerchief and fired, but in his hurry he missed with the first barrel, and Jimmy, fearing they might escape, let off his big single, and one of the young ducks fell to the ground with a flop which told how fat he was. Frank winged another with his second barrel, and it fell into the water, where it was despatched by a third shot from Jimmy, who had hastily loaded. The old duck flew far away, but the young ones only flew short distances, and then settled on the d.y.k.e and hid in the reeds, one here and another there; and then for an hour or so they had good sport beating about the d.y.k.es, and flus.h.i.+ng them one by one until they had disposed of the whole brood.

"There," said Frank, as he handed the last of them to d.i.c.k in the punt, "it is too hot to shoot any more to-day. We have done enough to be able to say that we have been flapper-shooting, and that is all I care for this hot weather."

"I am glad you are leaving off;" said d.i.c.k, "that villanous saltpetre smoke hangs in the air so that one can see nothing."

"Then let us have a bathe, and leave the ducks until the winter-time,"

said Jimmy.

"Yes, but we won't leave them quite yet. We must shoot them when they come to the corn-fields in August."

[Ill.u.s.tration: WOOD-PIGEON.]

And as we are now writing about wild-duck shooting we will just advance a short time in our story, and take a glance at the boys shooting wild ducks when the fields are yellow with harvest.

Frank and Jimmy are perched in an oak-tree, which after many years of wrestling with the winds and storms, has a.s.sumed a very quaint and picturesque shape. Its mighty stem is riven and has great hollows in it, and its low, wide spreading branches shade more of the field than the Norfolk farmer likes. It stands in a hedge which separates the corn-field, where the stems are bowing with the weight of the ears and are ready for the scythe, from a meadow which slopes down to the marsh and the broad.

Frank and Jimmy both have their guns, and d.i.c.k has been sent to the other side of the field with an old pistol, which he has been charged to let off.

"c.o.c.k your gun, d.i.c.k is raising his pistol," said Frank.

A puff of smoke from out the shadow of the hedge, and a few seconds after, a report, show that d.i.c.k has fulfilled his mission; and as the report reaches them, first come a number of wild-pigeons, which fly past with whistling wings. Jimmy fires and brings one to the ground. Frank has reserved his fire, and wisely, for with slow and heavy flight come four wild ducks right towards the tree. Frank gets two of them in a line and fires his first barrel. Two of them fall, and with his second barrel he wings another, which Jimmy despatches.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SUSPENDED LEAF-TENTS.]

"Come back to the tree, d.i.c.k," shouted Frank, and d.i.c.k came back. "Now if we wait here a little while, the wild-pigeons will come back, and some more ducks may come from the marsh." And so, having loaded their guns, they laid them in a hollow and made themselves comfortable, and began to chat.

"Did you ever notice how much insect-life there is in an oak-tree?"

said d.i.c.k. "Just watch this branch while I tap it."

He struck the branch as he spoke, and immediately there fell from it scores of caterpillars, which let themselves fall by a silken thread, and descended, some nearly to the ground, others only a little distance.

"I was reading the other day," said d.i.c.k, "of the immense quant.i.ty of moths which lay their eggs on the oak. There are caterpillars which build little houses of bark to live in. Others roll up the leaves and so make tents for themselves. Others eat the surface of the leaves, and so leave white tracks on their march. Others, when they are frightened, will put themselves into such queer postures: they will stretch themselves out as stiff as a twig, holding on by one end only, and you would think they were twigs; and these, when they walk, loop themselves up. They don't crawl like other caterpillars, but have feet only at each end, and so they loop up their bodies in the middle till they form the letter omega, and then stretch out their heads again and bring up their tails with another loop. And then there are cannibal caterpillars, which eat other caterpillars. Look at these little spots of bright green. See, if I make them fly, they are seen to be pretty little moths with green wings. They are called the green oak-moth."

"An oak-tree seems to be a regular city," said Frank.

"Look at this marvellously beautiful fly, with lace-like wings," said Jimmy. "What is that?"

"That is a lace-wing fly," answered d.i.c.k. "Just put your nose as close as you can to it and smell it."

Jimmy did so, and said,--

"Why it is nearly as bad as a stink-horn fungus."

No more ducks came back that day, but three more wood-pigeons fell victims to their love of corn, and the boys descended, by and by, and walked home.

As they were sitting on a stile, d.i.c.k pointed to the carcase of a mole which lay on the path, and to two little black beetles with yellow bands on their wing-cases, which were crawling over it.

"I think those are burying beetles. Let us watch them. They lay their eggs in dead bodies of beasts or birds and then bury them, and the grub of the beetle lives on the carcase in its babyhood."

They lay down on the ground by the beetles, watching them. The process of egg-laying by the female was just about being completed, and the two soon buried themselves in the earth beneath the carcase, and presently appeared at one side with a little mound of earth which they had excavated from under it. This process was repeated again and again, and very slowly the mole began to sink into the ground. The boys watched it for nearly an hour, and in that time the mole was about half-buried. One observer once kept four of these beetles in a place where he could observe them, and supplied them with carcases of small animals and birds, and in twelve days they had buried no less than fifty!

[Ill.u.s.tration: LACE-WINGED FLY. (Manner of depositing Eggs.)]

"Have you ever seen those huge stag-beetles with long h.o.r.n.y mandibles like stag's horns?" said Frank.

"Yes," replied d.i.c.k, "I caught one yesterday, and looked up all about it in my books. Its caterpillar takes four years to arrive at maturity, and it burrows in the wood of oak and willow trees. I showed the beetle I caught to our housekeeper, and she nearly went into hysterics over it.

I tried to make her take it into her hand, and she said she would not have done so for 'worlds untold.'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: STAG-HORNED PRIONUS AND DIAMOND BEETLE.]

Frank stooped down to wash his hands in a small pool of water by the road-side, and he cried--

"I say, do look here. Here is a living horsehair. Look at it swimming about. It ties itself into ever so many knots in a minute, and unties them again. Is it a hair-worm?"

"Yes, I have no doubt it is," said Jimmy. "Do you know that I expect that the common notion of eels being bred from horsehairs has arisen from country people seeing these long worms, and thinking they were horsehairs just come to life."

The hair-worm in the first stage of its existence pa.s.ses its life in the body of some tiny animal or insect. Although it lives afterwards in the water, yet it will, if put into a dry and hot place, dry up to nothing as it were; and then after a long exposure to the heat, if it is put into water again, it will swell out and resume its old proportions, and, live seeming none the worse for being baked.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Purple Emperor.--His Taste for Carrion.--Wood-p.e.c.k.e.r.-- Blue and Small Copper b.u.t.terflies.--Buff-tip Moth.-- Moths at Ivy.--Strange-looking Caterpillars.

One hot August day Frank and his faithful follower Jimmy were strolling arm-in-arm along the lanes to call for d.i.c.k. Presently they came upon him engaged in no very pleasant occupation. Holding his nose with one hand, with the other he was drawing along a dead dog by means of a long bramble twisted round it. The dog was highly odoriferous, and Frank and Jimmy kept at a distance while they asked him what he was doing that for.

"I saw a purple emperor b.u.t.terfly flying round the top of one of the oaks in the park. It is impossible to catch it with a net, but I have read that these b.u.t.terflies have a taste for carrion, and will come down to it; so I just fished about until I found this dead dog, which I mean to lay under the tree as a bait."

"Are you sure it was a purple emperor? They are very rare here," said Frank.

"Oh yes, I saw the purple of its wings s.h.i.+ning in the sun, and it was so large, and it flew about the tops of the oaks, and then flew higher still out of sight."

The purple emperor is looked upon as the king of English b.u.t.terflies. It is a large insect, with wings of dark purple bordered with white, which vary in colour like the material known as shot silk, and in the sunlight gleam most beautifully. The males only have this splendid purple gloss on their wings. The females, though larger in size, have wings of a dull brown. The purple emperor takes its station at the top of the tallest oak and rarely descends to earth. The female is more stay-at-home than the male, and is very rarely caught. The insect would be far oftener seen than caught if it were not for its habit of alighting upon carrion, and collectors take advantage of this low taste, and lie in wait for it, and catch it in the act. The caterpillar is a plump creature, with a tail running to a point, and a pair of horns or tentacles on its head. It is bright green in colour, striped with yellow down each side, and it feeds upon the willow. In the south of England this b.u.t.terfly is not uncommon, but as you go north it becomes rarer.

Frank and Jimmy accompanied d.i.c.k to the park where the oak-trees were, keeping at a respectable distance to windward of him. The carcase was deposited beneath the tree where d.i.c.k had seen the purple emperor, and they sat down behind another tree to wait the course of events. Two hours pa.s.sed away without any sign of the b.u.t.terfly, but time was no object with the boys, who found it pleasant enough to lie on the cool gra.s.s in the shadow of the oaks, and listen to the murmur of woodland sounds. Squirrels and rabbits played about them, and birds fluttered in the trees overhead. The cushat uttered her sleepy moan, and then woke up and flew away on lazy wing to the corn-fields, whence came the sound of the sharpening of scythes. The rattle of the woodp.e.c.k.e.r tapping the hollow trees was the loudest sound which disturbed the silent, broiling afternoon. The three friends were stretched on the ground talking quietly, and half disposed to doze, every now and then casting glances at the dead dog. Suddenly down a lane of sunlight there fluttered a s.h.i.+mmering purple thing which settled on the carcase, and stayed there, opening and shutting its wings, and sending scintillations of purple light through the green shadows.

"There it is!" said d.i.c.k excitedly, and he got hold of his net.