Birds and Nature, Vol. 12 No. 4 [September 1902]

THE HORNED TOADS

The Horned Toads form an interesting group of Lizards which are related to the iguanas of the tropical forests of America. They are, however, terrestrial lizards, inhabiting the plains of Southwestern United States and Mexico. Their short, broad and more or less flattened bodies, rounded heads and short tails give these animals quite a striking resemblance to the common toad. Hence their common name. In one respect, however, they are not at all like the toad. The head is armed behind with a row of quite formidable horny spines, and in some of the species shorter ones are also present on the top of the head and on various parts of the body. As these lizards are slow in motion, the horns constitute one of their chief means of defense. When in the presence of an enemy “the muzzle is depressed and the horns are elevated. The back is also arched.” The utility of the horns as a means of defense has been amply proven. The dead bodies of snakes have been found with the horns protruding through the skin of the body near the head. But this is not their only means of defense. From birds they are protected by their coloration, which is a somber mixture of brown, black and yellowish, and when quietly resting on sands or rocks in the open they quite closely resemble stones covered with lichens of varying shades of color. Abundant as they are in some arid regions of the Southwest, they frequently escape the notice of the observer because of their coloration. In such regions, too, they can take refuge beneath the protecting spines of the Agaves and the branches of the prickly Opuntias. Dr. Leonhard Stejneger considers the Horned Toads a most striking illustration of protective mimicry. Of one species he says: “In the cedar and pine belts of the San Francisco Mountains the dark color of the soil and stones covering the surface is closely matched by the ground color of the Horned Toad, while the greenish gray and orange-colored markings which somewhat irregularly adorn their backs are perfect imitations of the lichens covering the rocks and pebbles among which these odd looking creatures live. Near the rim of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, on the other hand, the ground is covered with small pebbles of variously colored sandstone, ranging from a clayey white to brick red and dark brown, and the specimen which I collected there is such a faithful reproduction of the surroundings that it would undoubtedly have remained undetected had it not been moving. Even more remarkable are the specimens which Dr. Merriam collected in the black lava belt. One of these was brought to camp alive.” Dr. Stejneger made a careful study of this specimen and found that it had very closely imitated the color of the lava, including even its glossy appearance.

One of the most remarkable habits of at least one of the species, and possibly of all the Horned Toads, is the power of ejecting jets of blood from the eyes. This power is rarely exercised and seemingly only when greatly irritated. Professor L. M. Underwood relates the following instance, which also illustrates some of the other habits of the Horned Toads when angered: “In 1885 a student of mine received a specimen of Horned Toad from California. In examining the animal I took occasion to turn him on his back, using a lead pencil for the purpose. The animal resented this treatment and showed considerable anger, opening his mouth and puffing up his body. Irritating the animal still more, he grew more and more enraged, until finally blood spurted from just above his eye, which was fired at least a foot from the animal, as several spots struck my arm considerably above my wrist. After spurting the blood the toad became limp and collapsed, and remained in a stupor for some time, and, when handled, behaved as if dead. After a time, possibly not over five or six minutes, certainly not over ten, the animal revived and commenced to run about the table.” Irritating him again in the same manner, Professor Underwood caused the toad to go through the operation a second time, which was followed, as in the first instance, by collapse and stupor. “No amount of irritation could produce a third discharge, although the animal showed some anger.”

This habit of the Horned Toads has been observed by a number of scientists and it is said that the Mexicans have called them Sacred Toads, “because they wept tears of blood.” An examination with a microscope clearly shows that the ejected liquid is blood. As to the purpose of this habit, Dr. O. P. Hay says: “It appears to me quite likely that it is done in order to defend itself from the attacks of its enemies, although it would not seem likely that blood would hurt the eyes much. Nevertheless a discharge of blood into the eyes of some persevering bird or snake might so seriously interfere with its clearness of vision that the lizard might make its escape while the enemy was wiping its eyes.” One investigator, at least, has had the experience of having the stream of blood enter his eye. It was followed by pain which lasted for some time, but was relieved as soon as the blood was entirely wiped from the eye. Some inflammation followed, but soon it disappeared.

Unlike some of the other lizards, the Horned Toads are not provided with a protrusive tongue. This fact, together with their clumsy form, prevents them from preying on the more lively insects. They chiefly feed upon the beetles and other slowly moving insects that inhabit the region in which they live. The food is captured in the evening, and if undisturbed the toads remain quite passive throughout the day. In captivity they are interesting pets and if they will take food they bear confinement for a long time. “They not infrequently, however, starve themselves to death, though their capacity to live without food is marvelous.”

DOWN IN DIXIE-LAND

One never has to travel very far from home to see something new and interesting; so I wonder if all of the readers know of the “frizzly chicken” which is so popular among the colored people of our southern states.

It is of ordinary size and like the rest of the chicken family, except that its feathers stand on end like the quills of an angry porcupine. It reminded me of a chicken perpetually blown before a March wind. Of course, their feathers become ragged and “frizzled,” like the hair of their proud possessors, and I imagine the motherly inclined do not find their sittings quite so comfortable as do our meek-looking hens.

As a rule, the negroes are very humane in their treatment of domestic animals. The dogs are treated as well as the children, and nearly every cabin door has a hole cut in it for the entrance and exit of the family cats. As the weather is seldom cold, these ventilators are really good for the larger inmates.

Lee McCrae.

MY BAT

When I discovered the bat he was hanging by his hind feet, head downward between the blind and the window. I could not see him breathe and thought he must be dead, but he was only sleeping.

We closed the shutters of the blind as softly as we could, but it awoke him, and he began to wiggle and twist. He could not get away and we lowered the window from the top and grabbed the little fellow.

How he did scold and snap his jaws together! His little teeth were sharp and he tried his best to bite us.

We put him in a box and put a piece of coarse wire netting over the top.

Mr. Bat did not enjoy being made a prisoner, and did not quiet down until he found he could hang head downward from the netting.

He was quite a pretty little animal, his body being about two inches long, with soft, thick, reddish brown fur on its upper and under part and on his head. His eyes were small and dark, and his head looked like a tiny bear’s, but there was no hair on his ears.

His wings also were without hair and nearly black in color. When hanging by his hind legs he kept his wings folded tightly against his body.

The bat’s hind feet were very small, having five tiny toes with the smallest possible nails. By having one toe around the wire of the netting he could hold himself suspended in the air.

The little fellow’s mode of walking on the bottom of the box was very awkward. He would thrust forth the claw at the end of one of his wings and hook it into the box, then advance the hind foot and tumble forward, repeating the process with the opposite side, thus tumbling and staggering along, falling first to one side, then to the other.

If he wanted to hang from the netting he would reach up a hind foot and gain a foothold in the side of the box, then raise the other, thus climbing backwards until he could clasp the netting.

In the evening the bat got out of the box and was flying about the room before we knew he had escaped. He flew round and round in a circle, sometimes striking the walls of the room. His wings made considerable noise and he looked many times larger when flying.

We thought we should have to shut him up in the room until morning, but at last succeeded in catching him by hitting and knocking him to the floor with a coat, then throwing it over him.

The little fellow struggled and tried his best to get away, but it was no use. We put him back into the box and put a weight on the netting. He scratched around in the box and scolded all the evening, but he did not get away again.

The next morning I thought he would be hungry and tried to get him to eat and drink. He lapped a little water and a little milk out of a teaspoon, running out his tiny red tongue and making a little hacking noise.

He would not be tempted to eat a fly, shaking his head and spitting the flies out as fast as I could put them into his mouth.

As he would not eat we thought the little fellow would starve if I did not let him go. I waited until evening and took the box outdoors. He was hanging to the netting, and I took it off and turned it over so he could fly. He spread out his wings and away he went, glad to be at liberty once more.

I have looked every morning to see if the bat is hanging against the window, but have not seen him since I set him free.

Martha R. Fitch.

THE ATLAS MOTH

(Attacus atlas.)

India is not only noted for its large and ferocious beasts, but also for its gorgeous flowers and beautiful insects. Among these is the splendid Atlas Moth, noted not alone for the extravagance of its coloring, but also for its immense size, for it is the giant of the moths and butterflies. The largest specimen recorded is now in the British Museum. Expanded and measured from tip to tip of the fore wings, it is only one-quarter of inch less than one foot. Measured in the same manner, the specimen of our illustration is a trifle over ten inches. The average expansion, however, is only about eight or nine inches. Its large size influenced Linnaeus to give this moth the specific designation of Atlas, the name of one of the Greek gods, by whom the pillars of heaven were supposed to be supported. In later years the word has been used in a figurative sense indicative of an ability to sustain a great burden. Truly no other name would be more appropriate, for the large wings of the Atlas Moth enable it to fly swiftly and to long distances, though its flight is somewhat erratic.

The larvae or caterpillars of this regal moth are fully as interesting and beautiful as the adult insect. They have a long, thick and fleshy body, which bears several rows of tubercles, crowned with spiny hairs. When young they are black with white spines, but afterwards become a rich green color and bear bluish-green or black spines. It is said that the larvae eat their skins after moulting and it has been suggested that the object of this habit is to prevent the cast off skins from indicating their presence to birds and other enemies.

The Atlas Moth varies considerably in the color of its wings and, when compared with the expanse of its wings, its body is very short. A peculiar and striking characteristic is the large and triangular transparent spot near the center of each of the four wings.

Among its allies are some of the most important of the silk producing moths of India, China and Japan, and the common emperor moth of England. Other species of the genus Attacus inhabit Central and South America, but they are much smaller and not as beautiful as the Atlas.

A BUTTERFLY

Lazily flyingOver the flower-decked prairies, West;Basking in sunshine till daylight is dying,And resting all night on Asclepias’ breast;Joyously dancing,Merrily prancing,Chasing his lady-love high in the air,Fluttering gaily,Frolicking daily.Free from anxiety, sorrow, and care!– C. V. Riley.

WHEN BILLIE CAME BACK

Billie is the handsomest Flicker that comes to the grove of oaks on the north campus of the college and that is saying a great deal. For several years he has occupied a splendid house hollowed out with much labor in the great oak by the power house. Just above the portico of his house Billie has his xylophone. This remarkable instrument is just seasoned enough and has just the correct spring in its splinters. Here every morning, at this season, he beats a series of tunes, monotonous perhaps, but rather pleasing to Billie and me. After beating a tune, he screams at the top of his voice, “Get up; get up.” He is an alarm clock and a great nuisance to those who love their morning nap, but I would not allow him to be disturbed, he seems so business-like and earnest. My wife was disposed to disparage his musical attainments, but when she saw the marvelous rapidity of his strokes and the beauty of his red crest flashing in the slanting sunlight she became a partisan.

It should be said, of course, that after the brief season of courtship is over and Billie’s wife is busy about her housekeeping, he is less musical and we do not have our reveille so regularly.

Early last spring a pair of English sparrows took possession of Billie’s house and worked with a diligence worthy a better cause to fill it with sticks and bits of straw. I was interested at once and waited eagerly to see what Billie would do when he should return. I did not have many days to wait. One fine day I heard Billie hammering a gay tune. I watched and was soon rewarded. Billie seemed taken aback, but soon recovered from his surprise and proceeded to clean house at a great rate. Meantime the sparrows could do nothing but scold, and I confess to a degree of satisfaction in their discomfiture. For once the speckled little Ishmaelites were impotent.

Finally the last straw was thrown out and Billie perched upon the limb that served as a portico for his house, screamed with defiance and satisfaction. Soon he flew to a distant part of the grove in search of the future Mrs. Flicker, I suppose, and was gone for perhaps an hour. The sparrows worked desperately and had nearly all of the material replaced when Billie, disappointed in his quest and in no very good humor, returned. This time Billie’s patience was entirely gone and he threw sticks right and left, stopping occasionally to scream with anger. He seemed to know there would be little use in chasing the pesky sparrows. He did not go far from home after that, so that the sparrows were compelled to go house hunting elsewhere.

Billie mounted guard over his fireside and his altars for several days, treating us to a quantity if not a variety of drum solos, and the seductive notes of his cross cut saw of a voice were in constant evidence. He never knew the sorrow of the human performer of like merit when his best friends are willing for him to rest.

One fine day a demure looking female, attracted by his music, came and critically examined the house. I knew she was already won, but Billie did not, and it was amusing to watch his antics. Did you ever see a Flicker desperately in love? It was evidently love at first sight with Billie. He spread his wings, showed the jet black crescent on his vest, displayed the crimson glory of his crest, played his most catchy tune on the xylophone and sang his most melodious song. Meantime the coy female, already decided, still appeared to be unable to make up her mind. She made as if to go on, and Billie was in despair, and redoubled his persuasion. She had never heard such a tattoo, nor seen such a xylophone, nor yet so fine a fellow as Billie. Soon she stopped her pretended search for larvae under the loose bark and made another inspection of the house. She exemplified the maxim, “To hesitate is to be lost,” and soon she and Billie were busy with their housekeeping. The sparrows got no further chance to occupy Billie’s summer home. A happy family was reared and educated and in the autumn disappeared.

As I write Billie has returned and is beating a merry tune, while six or more sparrows sit around listening as if to learn how. Mrs. Flicker has not yet returned, but I believe the sparrows have given up the idea of taking his house. I am in doubt about Mrs. Flicker, but I know Billie. He is larger and handsomer than ever. I have studied his every beautiful feather. Sometimes I think he jumps behind a limb just to tease me, but I am fond of him and I hope he may return for many years.

Rowland Watts.

BEAUTIFUL VINES TO BE FOUND IN OUR WILD WOODS

II

A vine of great beauty in our autumn woods, with its great masses of scarlet berries, is the Celastrus scandens – Climbing Bittersweet or Wax-work.

It belongs to the order Celastraceae – Staff tree family – to which family belongs the wahoo or burning-bush, with which we are all familiar, from seeing its abundant red berries in the autumn woods and in the parks.

The flowers of the Celastrus or Bittersweet are small, greenish and regular, growing in clusters at the end of the branchlets, the staminate and pistillate forms usually on separate plants, which accounts for the fact that we often see a beautiful vine that has bloomed profusely bearing no flowers; the flowers have five distinct spreading petals, inserted with the alternate stamens on the edge of the disk that lines the base of the calyx. Its five united sepals form a cup-shaped calyx. It has five stamens, one thick style and a three-celled ovary, with three to six seeds. It can be found in full blossom about the first of June.

The leaves of the Bittersweet are from two to three and a half inches in length, simple alternate, slightly fine-toothed, and are found from egg shaped and oblong to the reversed of egg shaped, the apex always pointed, while the base is sometimes pointed and sometimes rounded. The fruit of the Bittersweet is about one-third of an inch in diameter, round and a deep orange color, three-celled with two seeds in each cell; when it is ripe, it opens into three parts, showing six bright scarlet berries within.

The Celastrus is a strong, woody climber, twining upon itself in coils and swirls, over fences and walls and bushes to great distances, often to the top of immensely high trees.

It is immensely showy and beautiful in the very late fall when its leaves are all fallen off and its woody branches are left thickly studded with its orange and scarlet fruit. I remember especially one Christmas eve, in Kentucky, that we gathered great bunches of it; we found it growing over an old stone ruin in great masses and gathering it, with large bunches of mistletoe, it made ideal decorations for our Christmas festivities.

J. O. Cochran.

COMPTIE

When winter, with its blasting, icy hand, has touched every green thing exposed to its wantonness, and Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s and other feast days call loudly for the festive greenery with which to adorn churches, halls and dwellings, longing eyes are turned towards the Southland, where King Winter’s scepter is unknown and green things flourish the year around.

A walk through the dark hummuck woods – so dark that owls overhead hoot at one in the daytime – holds the naturalist and the florist spell-bound.

The numerous varieties of chirping and twittering birds, the many-hued spiders, lizards, bugs and beetles, and, yes, the wriggling snakes, with now and then the sounds of snarling ’coons or ’possums, the scream of a wild-cat, or the dashing by of the deer suddenly aroused from his noon siesta – all this makes the naturalist feel as though he had entered into an enchanted land; but he who loves “the green things growing” more than the things flying, creeping or snarling will feast his eyes on the ever varying verdure.

Tall palmettos, wide-spreading oaks, orchids, trailing vines and festooning mosses sweeping the greener mosses beneath, ferns, lilies! – but, ’twould fill a volume to enumerate the many beauties which meet the eye at even a single glance, each plant and flower in itself being worthy of a chapter.

There is one plant which especially attracts our attention and admiration; and this plant is one of the prettiest and most useful of the greeneries used for decorations in the far north in winter. It is called, variously, “Comptie,” “Coontie,” “Starch-root,” or “Indian-bread.” The two latter names are due to its large, bulbous root, which, when grated, makes a good starch, and which was also made, by the primitive Indians, into ash-cake, or bread – as Indians knew bread.

It is fern-like; but, unlike most ferns, it is of a sturdy, independent growth, bearing handling as well as cedar, yet with all the graceful pliancy of the more tender ferns. Its stems grow two or three feet long; the fronds on each side of the stem being three or four inches in length, and of a glossy dark green color. From one to two dozen such stems put out from a single stalk, growing up into the most graceful curves.

Seeds, deep crimson in color, and of the size of a chestnut, form in the center of the plant, and so compactly as to present one continuous bulbous form, the size and shape of a round quart bottle with part of its neck broken off. This crimson seed-form, surrounded by the dark green foliage, is, of itself, a pretty curiosity, more novel than a flower.

The reason why it is especially valued for decorations is, because it can be had at all seasons of the year, and retains its verdure for several weeks, even after it has been shipped long distances. Many of these plants, cut close to the ground, have been shipped from Florida to Canada, and have retained their fresh, glossy appearance for two months. Even without placing the stems in water, using them for motto work, they will last two or three weeks.

And this is but one of Florida’s novelties in plant life.

Mary Stratner.

THE RIVER PATH

There’s a path beside the river,Winding through the willow copseWhere I love to walk in autumnEre the season’s curtain drops.On far hillsides beech and maple,Touched by early nipping frost,Have their brown and crimson jacketsTo the boisterous breezes tossed.Still the willow leaves are clinging,Latest foliage of fall,Shading yet my river pathwayUnderneath the osiers tall.On the wimpling water’s surfaceDrift a million truant leaves,Stolen from the woodland reachesBy the wind, the prince of thieves.All along the river edgesVerdure’s turned to brown and gray,Rustling through the dying sedgesAutumn’s low voiced breezes play.Nowhere sweeter walk or rarerThan my path beside the stream.There I love to stroll in autumn,There to loiter and to dream.– Frank Farrington.

EGG PLANT

(Solanum esculentum L.)

The Egg-plant, also known as bringal, aubergine, egg-apple and mad-apple, is an herbaceous plant belonging to the Nightshade family (Solananæ), therefore kin to the potato and tomato. It is a tender annual, readily killed by the early frosts. It has rather large, simple, somewhat incised leaves. The fruits are large, egg-shaped, tomato-like in structure, hence berries.

It is quite extensively cultivated in gardens. The seeds are sown in hot beds early in April but transplanting is not done until about the first of June, when all danger of frost is past. The soil should be very rich and the plants set about three feet apart. Like most transplanted plants they require shading and watering for a few days. Careful cultivation is required during the entire season. Propping may be necessary to keep the large, heavy fruits from the ground. The Colorado beetle is a very annoying enemy of the growing plants and must be effectually fought to insure a crop.

There are several varieties of Egg-plant. The purple variety is by long odds the greatest favorite. There are also white and yellow varieties.

Most people consider the properly prepared fruit of the Egg-plant a delicacy. In some tropical countries it forms an important article of diet. The ripe fruit is prepared for the table by peeling and boiling. After boiling the fruit is sliced, seasoned and fried until well browned, in rolled crackers or bread crusts and a liberal supply of butter. When well prepared it is a very palatable article of diet but when insufficiently cooked or fried it is indigestible. It does not seem to be prepared in other ways nor does it seem to have any noteworthy medicinal properties.