The Swan And Her Crew Part 9

"Oh, that is done by the snipes, when boring in search of food.

Woodc.o.c.ks will do it as well, and the woodc.o.c.k's upper bill is so long and flexible that it can twist and turn it about in the mud with the greatest ease," answered Frank, who was always ready with an answer on ornithological subjects.

By and by d.i.c.k was observed to be looking all about with a very puzzled and curious air, peeping into the cabin, and scrutinizing the deck and the banks with the utmost attention.

"What is the matter, d.i.c.k?" said Jimmy at length.

"What on earth is that buzzing noise? It seems to be close to us, and I can't find out the cause of it. I did not like to ask before--it seemed so simple. Is it a big bee, or wasp, or what?"

Frank and Jimmy laughed heartily, and the former said,--

"Look up in the air, d.i.c.k."

d.i.c.k did so, and saw a bird which he knew to be a snipe, hovering somewhat after the manner of a kestrel, or windhover, as the country people sometimes call it. It was evident now that the noise came from it, but how was it produced, and why?

Frank could not answer either of these questions. It was a habit of the snipes in breeding time to rise and 'drum' in that way.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COMMON SNIPE.]

"No doubt he does it for a lark, and no doubt he thinks he does it as well as a lark, but no one seems to be sure how the noise is produced.

The general opinion seems to be that it is caused by a vibration of the tail-feathers."

"Look!" cried d.i.c.k excitedly, diving into the cabin for his b.u.t.terfly net. Over the marsh there fluttered one of the grandest of English b.u.t.terflies, the swallow-tail. Large in size, being about four inches across the wings, which are of a pale creamy-yellow, barred and margined with blue and black, velvety in its appearance, and with a well-defined 'tail' to each of its under wings, above which is a red spot, the swallow-tail b.u.t.terfly is one of the most beautiful of all b.u.t.terflies.

It is rare save in its head-quarters, which are the fens of Norfolk and Cambridge, and is justly considered a prize by a young collector. Frank immediately ran the yacht ash.o.r.e, and d.i.c.k jumped out and rushed at the gorgeous insect with his net. Alas! he struck too wildly and missed it, and it rose in the air and flew far away, leaving d.i.c.k lamenting. Frank laughed and said,--

"Ah, you went at it too rashly. You should have given it him with more of the _suaviter in modo_ and less of the _fort.i.ter in re_. Here comes another. Let me have a try!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: SWALLOW-TAIL b.u.t.tERFLY.]

d.i.c.k yielded up possession of the net to him, and he advanced slowly and cautiously to where the swallow-tail was sunning himself on an early tuft of meadow-sweet, which the warm weather had tempted to bloom earlier than usual, and to perfume the air with its strong fragrance on the last day of May.

Frank's approach had too much of the _suaviter in modo_, for the b.u.t.terfly flew away long before he reached it. Frank forgot all about the _suaviter in modo_ then. He dashed after it at the top of his speed, making frantic dashes at it with his net, and jumping over soft ground, with utter disregard to all dangerous places. He followed it for some distance, and then he suddenly disappeared, and to their dismay they heard him shouting loudly for help.

"He has got into a bog-hole," said Jimmy, "come along as fast as you can."

They ran with breathless speed to where he had disappeared, and so deceptive are distances on flat surfaces, that they were surprised to see how far he had gone. When they reached him they saw him up to his waist in the soft bog, whose bright vivid green would have shown its danger had he not been too eager in his pursuit of the b.u.t.terfly to notice it. He was rapidly sinking deeper into the mud, which held him fast with cruel tenacity, and sucked him further into its horrid embrace the more he struggled to get out of it. He had taken a big jump right into the very middle of it, and he was too far from them to reach their hands. His face was pale, but he was cool and collected.

"All right," he said, "don't be frightened. I've got the b.u.t.terfly, and if you will do what I tell you, I will soon get out of this fix. d.i.c.k, do you run to the yacht and get a rope, and you, Jimmy, get some reeds, and pitch them to me to put under my arms, and keep me from sinking further into this fearful mess."

d.i.c.k sped off like an arrow, and Jimmy tore up a bundle of reeds and threw them to his friend, who had now sunk up to his shoulders, and as the reeds broke beneath his weight he sunk deeper still.

"I hope d.i.c.k won't be long, or it will be all up with me, Jimmy," he said, and brave as he was, he could not keep his lips from quivering.

Jimmy was in an agony of excitement. He took off his coat, and threw one end of it to Frank, but he could not reach him. Then he did what even raised a smile on Frank's face, imminent as was his danger. He took off his trousers and threw one leg to Frank, retaining the other in his hand. Pulling hard at this improvised rope, he held Frank up until d.i.c.k came tearing up with the rope trailing behind him.

"Thank G.o.d!" said Frank, and Jimmy then knew by his fervent tone how great he knew the danger had been. Clinging to the rope, he was hauled out by his companions, and so tightly did the mud hold him, that it took all their strength to drag him out. They walked slowly and quietly back to the yacht, and Frank changed his clothes, and lay down and was very quiet for some time, and they none of them recovered their usual spirits for some time after this occurrence.

The b.u.t.terfly was set, and ever afterwards kept apart in d.i.c.k's collection as a memento of this time.

Before they went home again they had got several specimens of this handsome b.u.t.terfly, and still better, they discovered numbers of the bright green caterpillars and chrysalides on the meadow-sweet and wild carrot, which grew in the marsh, and so were able to breed several fine specimens, enough for their own collection and for exchange.

CHAPTER X.

Moonlight.--Instinct and Reason.--Death's Head Moth.-- Bittern.--Water-rail.--Quail.--Golden Plover.-- Hen-Harrier and Weasel.--Preserving Bird-skins.

They anch.o.r.ed that night just inside Hoveton Great Broad. The moon rose large and round, and lake and marsh slept still in her mellow light. The boys sat on deck watching the reflection of the moon in the water, and listening to the cries of the night-birds around them and the splash of the fish in the shallow margins. d.i.c.k said,--

"Is it not wonderful that the b.u.t.terfly knows on which plant she is to lay her eggs? How does the swallow-tail know that she must lay them on the wild carrot or on the meadow-sweet; the death's-head moth on the potato; and the white b.u.t.terfly on the cabbage? How is it that they select these plants, seeing that it is all strange and new to them? It is very wonderful!"

"Yes," said Jimmy, "and it cannot be reason, because they can have no facts to reason from, so it must be instinct."

"Well, I don't like talking anything like cant, and you won't accuse me of that if I say that it seems to me that instinct is a personal prompting and direction of G.o.d to the lower animals for their good, and I don't believe we think of that enough," said d.i.c.k.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MOONLIGHT SCENE.]

Frank replied,--"You are right, d.i.c.k, and while man has only reason, animals have instinct and reason too. At least I believe that the larger kind of animals have some share of reason. I have never told you about our colley b.i.t.c.h. Last year she had pups, and she was very much annoyed by a cat which would go prowling about the building where the b.i.t.c.h was kept; so the b.i.t.c.h took the opportunity of one day killing the cat. Now the cat had just had kittens, and all were drowned but one. When the mother was killed, its kitten cried most piteously, and had to be fed with milk by the servants. The b.i.t.c.h had not known that the cat had kittens, until she heard the kitten scream, and then she showed as plainly as possible that she was sorry for what she had done, and took the kitten to her own young ones, and seemed quite fond of it. Whenever it was taken away she would go for it and take it back again, and the kitten grew up with the pups, and was inseparable from them. Now I call that reason on the part of the b.i.t.c.h, and the desire to make amends for the injury she had done--But hark! what is that?"

A low booming sound not unlike the lowing of a bull, but more continued, resounded through the marsh and then ceased. Again the strange note was heard, and the boys looked at one another.

"What can it be?" said Jimmy, as the noise again quivered on the moonlit air.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DEATH'S-HEAD MOTH.]

"I know," said Frank, "it is a bittern. If we can only find its nest we shall be lucky. It does not often breed in England now, although it is often shot here in winter. Let us listen where the sound comes from."

They listened intently, and after an interval the sound was again repeated. They believed that it came from a reed-covered promontory which ran out into the broad on its eastern sh.o.r.e.

"Let us take the punt and go over," said Frank; so they rowed in the direction of the sound. They rowed round the promontory, and penetrated it as far as they could, and all was still and silent, and they discovered nothing.

Early the next morning they renewed their search, and while they were cras.h.i.+ng through the very middle of the reed bed, the bittern rose with a hoa.r.s.e cry, and flew away with a dull, heavy flight. And there, as good luck would have it, was its nest, a large structure of sticks, reeds and rushes, and in it were four eggs, large, round, and pale brown in colour. It was not in human nature (or at least in boy nature) to resist taking all the eggs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BITTERN.]

The bittern is a singular bird both in shape and habits. Take a heron and shorten its legs, neck, and beak, and thicken it generally, and then deepen its plumage to a partridge-like brown, and you will have a pretty good idea of the bittern. At one time it was common enough in England, but the spread of cultivation, the drainage of the marshes, and the pursuit of the collector have rendered it rare; and while at some seasons it is pretty common all over the country where there are places fit for its breeding-ground, in other years scarcely a specimen can be seen, and its nest is now but rarely found. Its curious note has often puzzled the country people. It has been said to put its head under water or into a hollow reed, and then to blow, and so make a noise something like that produced by the famous blowing stone in the Vale of the White Horse.

The fact, however, appears to be that the noise is produced in the usual manner, and Morris says that the bittern "commonly booms when soaring high in the air with a spiral flight."

When suddenly surprised, its flight is more like that of a carrion crow when shot at in the air. If wounded, the bittern can defend itself remarkably well, turning itself on its back, and fighting with beak and claws. It cannot run well among the reeds, so when surprised it takes refuge in flight, although it is not by any means a good flier; and as the reeds grow too closely together for it to use its wings among them, it clambers up them with its feet, until it can make play with its wings. It is essentially nocturnal in its habits, hiding close among the reeds and flags by day.

Leaving Hoveton Broad, the boys sailed quietly down the river to Ranworth Broad, without adventure. They turned from the river along the d.y.k.e which led to the broad, and with their usual enterprise they tried to take a short cut through a thin corner of reeds growing in about two feet of water, which alone divided them from the broad. They stuck fast, of course; but their usual good fortune attended them, and turned their misfortune into a source of profit. A bird like a landrail, but smaller, flew from a thick clump of vegetation near them.

"Hallo, that is not a corn-crake, is it?" said d.i.c.k.

"No, but it is a water-crake, or water-rail rather, and I expect its nest is in that clump," said Frank, and his shoes and stockings were off in a moment, and he was wading to the place whence the bird had flown.

"Yes, here it is, and there are eight eggs in it, very like a landrail's, but much lighter in colour and a little smaller. I say, if we hadn't seen the bird fly away we should never have found the nest, it is so carefully hidden. I shall take four eggs. They are not sat upon, and she will lay some more until she makes up her full number, so it is not a robbery."