Part 15 (1/2)
They had not gone far before he called the attention of the boys to the Ephemene or Mayflies dancing up and down in their beautiful light over the banks of the stream. Beautiful little objects they seemed, with their spotted wings and three tails, as straight up they flew rapidly for five or six feet, and then, spreading out wings and tails, allowed themselves, without effort, but with evenly balanced bodies, to sink down again, presenting a beautiful appearance as the fast descending sun shone sideways upon them.
Fred could have stopped for half an hour watching these Mayflies, but time was flying as well, and they had to get home to tea; but two or three fine specimens were captured by Mr Inglis and put safely in as many pill-boxes, and during their stay as many more were snapped up by the fish in the river. Then on the party went again towards the wood, capturing insect treasures as they pa.s.sed through the pleasant green meadows and by hedge-rows, all now of a bright golden green with the rays of the sinking sun. Now it was a great stag-beetle that was caught--a great h.o.r.n.y-headed and h.o.r.n.y-bodied fellow, so strong that he could force his way out of a closed hand by sheer pus.h.i.+ng, like his friend the c.o.c.kchafer, who now began to whirr and drone about under the shady boughs of the trees, but who would not come near enough to be captured, till at last one of them came b.u.mp up against Mr Inglis's hat, in its headlong flight, when Fred picked it out of the gra.s.s where it had fallen, and was astonished at the slow but strenuous efforts the insect made to escape.
As they came up to the wood Fred stopped short, for from out of its dark recesses came a peculiar whirring sound, as if somebody was busy with a spinning-wheel.
”Chur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r,” went the noise, rising and falling, now farther off, now nearer, and all the time kept up with the greatest regularity.
”Whatever is that?” said Fred to his cousins.
”Oh!” said Harry, laughing, ”that's old Dame Durden spinning her yarn.”
”What?” said Fred incredulously.
”There, look,” said Mr Inglis, for the noise had stopped. ”There goes Harry's Dame Durden;” and just then there came swooping out of the wood with noiseless flight, a large brown bird, which then went skimming along by the wood-side and back to where there stood a n.o.ble beech with wide-spreading boughs, beneath whose shade the bird went circling round with a beautifully easy flight, sometimes keeping quite in the shade, and every now and then rising higher up the tree; but still skimming along almost like a swallow, ”There,” said Mr Inglis again, when they had watched the bird for some minutes, ”that is the way to turn entomologist; see how easily that bird captures the moths that flit round the tree. If we could only secure specimens like that, what rare ones we should get sometimes of those that always fly high out of our reach! There, did you see him catch that moth, high up above the big bough? With what a graceful curve he turned upon the wing, caught it, and then dipped downward. See, he must have got a mouthful, and has gone off to the wood again, where perhaps he has nestlings.”
”Well, but,” said Fred, ”that can't be a swallow, it is so big, and I thought swallows were the only birds that caught flies and moths upon the wing.”
”No,” said Mr Inglis, ”it is not a swallow, though it has similar habits, and always catches its prey upon the wing. It is a bird that bears a good many different names; one of the most appropriate is that of the 'night-jar,'--though it is not really a night bird, but more of the twilight. It is called 'jar,' from the peculiar jarring noise which you heard, just like that made by the vibrating of a spinning-wheel. In some places they call it the 'goatsucker,' from a foolish idea that it sucked the milk from the goats, as it is sometimes seen to fly close down to them, and, between the legs of various animals, to capture the flies that infest them in the soft, tender parts of their bodies. A glance at the bird's great gaping mouth should be sufficient to convince anybody that it was meant for nothing else but catching flies, and the spiny fringe of hair at the side for caging them there when caught. In some places it is called the 'night-hawk,' and I should scarcely think there is any bird that has more names than our friend there.”
A few more moths and insects were captured, among which was a very fine puss moth, whose downy appearance made it a great object of attraction to the boys, as was also one of those n.o.ble-looking insects, the privet hawk moth, which was also captured, with gold-tails, tigers, etc, etc; and at last, regularly tired out, the lads walked quietly along by the side of Mr Inglis, listening to the mellow evening notes of the cuckoo, the distant lowing of the cows, and the occasional ”tink, tink” of a sheep bell; while skimming along the surface of the fields, the never-tired swallows kept sweeping away the flies front out of their path. With the setting sun, however, the last swallow disappeared; and one by one in the pearly-grey sky appeared the stars; and then, loud, sweet, and clear, from out the grove came the notes of the nightingales, ringing away through the distance, till bird answered bird, and the song seemed almost continuous, cheering the party till they finished their walk.
Mr Inglis had been highly amused with Harry's humorous description of how they had attacked the citadel of the wasps. And how ignominiously they had been put to flight; and told them how foolish their plan was, for they might have been sure that a large number of the insects would be out, seeking for food; and, as they would be constantly returning, they would be certain to attack those whom they found interfering with their castle; for soldiers as they were among insects, and armed too with such a powerful weapon, the attack was nothing more than the boys might have expected. However, he promised the lads that he would a.s.sist them the next evening, and detailed his plan of attack, giving them a long description of the way he should proceed, for he saw that they could hardly get along; but his account so took up their attention, that just in the midst of one of his remarks they reached the gates, and he exclaimed:--”Now, boys, enough entomology for one day; for, like you, I'm tired out; so let's see what Mamma there, who is waiting at the door, has in store for us.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
RATTING WITH d.i.c.k.--THE END OF THE WOPSES.
The evening after the entomological ramble pa.s.sed away very quietly, for the boys were too tired to care for anything but the hearty tea they made, which partook more of the nature of a supper; and after this there was such a disposition for sleep exhibited by the whole of the party, not excluding the Squire himself, that Mrs Inglis very soon began to talk about bed; and toe had to talk very loudly, too, for Harry had curled himself up in the great easy chair, dormouse fas.h.i.+on; Fred was sitting at the table with a book, whose leaves he was keeping from flying open by resting his head upon them; while Philip was seated on a small ottoman by his father's knees, and resting against them, fast asleep, as was also the Squire himself.
Mrs Inglis looked up from the fancy work upon which she was engaged, and could not help smiling at the appearance the rest of the inmates of the room presented. However, judging that at all events the junior portion would be far better in bed, she proceeded to arouse them, which was no easy task; and at last got them out of the room, Harry being by far the most sleepy, and yawning fearfully as he was led off to bed.
The next morning Fred was the first awake, and, after rousing his cousins, he went to the window to raise the blind, when he found it to be a regular soaking wet morning, one with a heavy, leaden-hued sky, and the rain coming down ”plish-plash” from the leaves and branches, and upon the edges of the verandah the drops running together like gla.s.sy beads until too heavy to hang, when they dropped upon the stones below, just in the same places where they had fallen for years, and wore the stone away into hollows. Little streams were slowly running down by the sides of the gravel-walks, and every bit of path looked muddy and dirty.
As for the birds, they did not seem to mind the rain a bit, but were hurrying about the grounds picking up the worms, slugs, and snails that the cooling rain had fetched out of their hiding-places, so that they were having a regular feast; while one thrush, who had evidently been an early bird, and had the first pick at the worms, was up, high up, in the cedar at the corner of the field, whistling away as though the happiest of birds. The roses were getting washed clear of the blight that had begun to cover them; and everything seemed to be drinking in the soft cooling drops that fell so gently and bathed the face of nature, for during Fred's visit the only rain that had fallen was that which accompanied the thunderstorm, and since then the hot sun had drawn all the moisture from the surface, so that many things began to appear parched, and to flag in the noontide heat. Altogether it was a regular soaking morning; and, after being very tired overnight, when people get up on these very wet soaky mornings they are liable to get low-spirited, and to feel dull--there is a want of elasticity in the air, and the consequence is that folks feel yawny, or gapish, whichever is the best word; and after looking out at the gloomy prospect--for places will look rather gloomy in these heavy rains, which are very different things to the soft, pa.s.sing showers which lay the parched dust, and when the sun s.h.i.+nes forth brighter than ever soon after, and makes the pearly drops glitter and sparkle where they hang to spray or leaf--I say, after looking out at the gloomy prospect, people often turn round and look at their bed, and the nice comfortably-shaped impression they left there; and I have known people so weak as to get into bed again and go to sleep; and amongst those weak enough to get into bed was Fred; but he would have required to have been strong enough to go to sleep, for, directly after, Harry and Philip charged into the room nearly dressed; and seeing what Fred had been doing, they seized the clothes, whisked them off, and then pretended to smother the poor idler with his own pillow.
”Now ain't that sneaky, Phil, to call two fellows up and then go and crawl into bed again? Fetch the sponge.”
But Fred did not wait for the sponge, for he began to shuffle into his clothes as hard as ever he could.
”Well, look what a miserable, cold, wet morning it is,” said the sluggard.
Harry ran to the window and looked out, and then made a grimace at the weather. ”Oh,” said he, ”what a bother; and we were going up the Camp Hill botanising.”
”No, we weren't,” said Philip; ”Papa said we should not go till Monday.”
”Good job, too,” said Harry; ”but never mind, we'll find something to do, see if we don't. Oh! I know; Papa promised to bring out the microscope last sight and show us the insects, only we all went to sleep. I was so jolly tired.”
”You weren't so tired as I was,” said Philip.
”Yes, I was,” said Harry, ”ever so much more.”