Part 4

Mrs. Rogers smiled very quietly as she stopped to give Tiger an assuring pat on the head and a word of praise for his good behavior, for she believed he understood the neighbor’s unkind remark.

“Tiger is a good cat and I’ll trust him any time with Dick,” said his mistress, turning away from him to attend to her duties.

A prolonged “Oh!” like a stifled scream came from the neighbor’s lips the next minute for Tiger had sprung at Dick and held him tightly in his cruel jaws.

“See Tige! See Tige!” exclaimed the visitor.

But Dick never fluttered a bit and Mrs. Rogers patted Tiger again as she caught sight of a vanishing stranger cat disappearing through an open window.

“Brave old Tiger! Good little Dickie!” said their mistress, as she took the bird, unharmed, from Tiger’s teeth, which had held the bird safely away from real danger.

Dick flew back to his open cage, Tiger went back to his nap in the sunshine, and the lady visitor learned the lesson that love works wonders in even the creatures that do not speak as we do.

Mary Catherine Judd.

THE POCKET RATS.

Rats and mice seem to enjoy living in localities that are frequented by but few other animals. They are also adepts at seeking food supplies and travel long distances when hunger demands and a supply of food is not at hand. The Pocket Rats are no exception to this rule and some of the species live in dry, arid regions where but little vegetation grows, aside from a few species of cactus. The rat of our illustration was found by Mr. Frank M. Woodruff in such a locality, where it had hidden under the sheltering branches of a cactus.

The marked characteristic that gives these little animals their name is the pockets or cheek pouches. These are external openings outside of the mouth and are lined with a furry skin. They are ample in size and the two will hold, in some instances, a heaping tablespoonful of grain. “The filling is done so rapidly that, where a hard grain like wheat is used, a continuous rattling sound is made. The ejecting of the grain from the pockets is aided by a forward, squeezing motion of the fore feet, each foot making two or three quick forward passes. Some of the species seem to thrive in captivity, and after a few days do not fill their pouches, apparently having learned that it is a useless labor. When obtainable, their natural food consists of various plant seeds, but when in the neighborhood of cultivated fields and the vicinity of houses, they feed also upon grain and the vegetable waste from camps and houses. Mr. F. Stephens says that some of the species, whose habits he has studied, will eat about a heaping tablespoonful each of wheat or barley in twenty-four hours and one or two square inches of beet or cabbage leaves.” As they are often found in regions practically devoid of water, a large part of the year, it is highly probable that they obtain the necessary moisture from succulent leaves. In captivity they drink but little water. Mr. Stephens writes of one that he trapped that was evidently very hungry. Placing it in a cage he gave it grain. He says: “It was amusing to see the eagerness with which it immediately went to filling its pockets. It stuffed them so full that it must have been positively painful, and then it would not stop to eat, but hunted about for some exit; not finding one, it ejected the contents of its pockets in a corner out of the firelight and went back for more. This time it ate a little, but soon gathered the remainder and deposited it with the first. After eating a little more, it refilled its pockets and hunted about for a better place to make a cache, seeming to think its first choice insecure. These actions plainly show that they are in the habit of storing away their supplies.” In some fields where they are common it is said that more than a pint of grain is ploughed up in a single cache.

The elongated hind legs, well pictured in our illustration, give these rats a wonderful power of locomotion. As they leap rather than run, they are often called Kangaroo Rats. Mr. Woodruff states that the specimen, which we have used, when trying to escape started with short leaps, but as it gained headway the spans were about four feet in length and at the highest point about eighteen inches from the ground. He found them quite common in the vicinity of San Diego, California. They are nocturnal in their habits, seeking their food through the twilight and night hours, and resting during the day in their burrows or in shaded places near the openings to them.

When resting the position of the feet and the arched back give them the appearance of a hairy ball. The tail is laid straight out from the body, if space will permit, or when the quarters are cramped it may be curled alongside the body. The tail is quite useful, as it is used as a sort of brace when the animal raises on its hind feet to view its surroundings.

There are a number of species of these interesting rats. The first one was discovered and named in 1839. The species we illustrate was first found near San Diego and named Dipodomys similis in 1893.

WINTER VISITORS.

For several years I have been interested in birds. I have watched them through the glad nesting time of spring, have sought their quiet retreats in summer and have heard their faraway calls as they moved southward in the dark, cold, misty evenings of autumn; but for the first time I have succeeded in bringing them near enough to study them in winter.

On the ledge of a second story window, out of the reach of cats, a wide shelf is fastened, and above it the branch of a dead cherry tree is securely wired to a shutter. On the shelf I scatter scraps from the table and shelled corn. To the branch, a long piece of suet is always bound with a cord. This is my free lunch table, spread for all my bird friends who wish to come. They have accepted the invitation beyond my expectation, and have fully repaid me for all the trouble it has been to prepare for them, in the pleasure their company gives me. I sit just inside the window and they appear not to notice me, so that I have an excellent opportunity to note their peculiarities.

The one that comes every day and all day, is the tufted titmouse. He comes down with a whir, looks sharply about with his bright, black eyes, then takes a taste of the suet or marrow, and sometimes carries a crumb away. It is hard to tell how many of them come, as they all look so much alike. Not more than two or three ever come at once.

A pair of downy woodpeckers are constant visitors at the meat table. They seldom come together, but sometimes it is the male with his bright red head spot, sometimes the female, in her plain black and white stripe. She is very plain, indeed, and somewhat more shy than her mate. If an English sparrow comes to the shelf while either of them is on the branch, it quickly drops down beside him as if to say, “See here, you are out of place,” and the sparrow leaves without a taste of the good things.

Occasionally a winter wren, with his comical tail and delicate manners, calls on his way somewhere, and makes a pleasing variety in the appearance of the visitors. He eats all he needs of the bread crumbs before leaving, unless some sudden movement within startles him.

The blue jays are the most persistent and least welcome of all. Their plumage is beautiful, viewed at such close range, but their actions are not pleasing. They flop down near the window and look in, turning the head from side to side, as if suspecting some enemy there. The slightest sound sends them back to the trees, but they soon return, and eat as if they were starved, driving their bills into the meat with quick hard strokes, or grabbing at the corn in a nervous, famishing way. After eating a few grains, they fill their mouths and carry it away to hide for future emergencies. I have seen them hide it in an old gatepost or drive it down in the crevices of trees. They carry away more than they eat and probably never find half of it again, for they have no special hiding place, but they tuck it in wherever they see a convenient place. It is somewhat provoking to have the table cleared in this way, unless it is always watched, for the corn is spread especially for the cardinals whose brilliant color is such a delight to the eye amid the sombre colors of winter. There is one blue jay with a drooping wing. We call him our “Bird with the broken pinion.” He appears to have no difficulty in getting to the table, and his appetite is not impaired, but possibly, as Butterworth says, “He will never soar so high again.”

A pair of cardinals come and partake of the corn with a grace and dignity befitting their royal apparel. They do not hurry nor worry, but eat slowly and stay until they have enough. They are very quiet now, but their spring song will repay me for all the corn they will eat.

But of all that come, none are more interesting than the chickadee. He surely merits all the bright sweet things that have been said or written about him. He is the only one that utters a note of thanksgiving for his daily bread before he begins to eat. Then he has such gentle, confiding ways. Today the ground is covered with a deep, sleet-encrusted snow; the trees are all icebound, and it must be one of the most disheartening days the bird world ever knows, yet just now, at four o’clock, two chickadees are singing their good night song outside my window. In a few minutes they will be snugly tucked away in some wayside inn, some sheltered nook prepared by Mother Nature, where they will sleep away one more cold night, to awaken one day nearer the joyous springtime.

Caroline H. Parker.

BEAUTIFUL VINES TO BE FOUND IN OUR WILD WOODS III.

Another beautiful vine that grows wild in most of our states is the Trumpet Flower, a popular name for various species of Bignonia and Tecoma, which belong to the other Bignoniaaceæ or Bignonia family, all of which are either shrubs or woody vines. There are two or three species of this family native to the United States, chief among them being the Tecoma radicans, or what is generally known as the Trumpet Flower. In some parts of the country it is also called Trumpet Creeper.

The word Tecoma is of Mexican origin and means trumpet, the only known difference between the Tecoma radicans and the Bignonia is a structural difference in their pods.

We have several imported varieties of both, that come from South Africa and Japan, but none prettier than the Tecoma radicans or Trumpet Flower, which any of us can find along almost any roadside or in rich, moist woods, blooming in the greatest profusion in August and September.

It is a woody vine, climbing to great heights by abundant rootlets, produced along the stems. Its pinnate leaves have from five to eleven ovate, toothed pointed leaflets. Its deep orange-red flowers come in midsummer and later and grow in corymbs or clusters; its tubular corolla is funnel-shaped, two or three inches long, with five somewhat irregular lobes, within which the four stamens are enclosed; its fruit is a two-celled pod, containing numerous winged seed.

The Trumpet Flower is found in a wild state from Pennsylvania to Illinois, and southward, and is very common in cultivation, being vigorous and perfectly hardy, soon covering a large space and reaching to a height of sixty feet. Blooming as it does in late summer, and early fall when flowers are scarce, the abundance of its great orange and scarlet flowers make a very showy spot in a dull landscape, and an especially attractive bit of color, if you happen to find a vine around which the ruby-throated hummingbirds are hovering, they being very partial to the nectar from its flowers.

It is a beautiful vine to drape a tree that is in itself not very pleasing, or to cover brick or stone outbuildings.

Its faults, and it is a shame to discover faults in anything so beautiful, are a tendency to become naked below, which can be remedied by cutting back, an over abundant production of suckers, and its immensely long roots.

Bignonia capreolata, named for the Abbe Bignon, who first found it, is a closely related species, of a more southern range than the Tecoma, being found in Tennessee, Virginia and Georgia. Its leaves consist of but two leaflets and a terminal tendril. Its flowers, similar to those of the preceding, are orange. In the southern states it is called cross-vine, as the wood if cut transversely shows a cross.

One species of the Trumpet Flower, the Tecoma stans, is a non-climbing shrub of southern Florida and northern Mexico. It grows about four feet high and bears large clusters of lemon-yellow flowers. It is hardy at Washington in the Botanical Gardens and there were fine plants exhibited at the Buffalo Exposition.

J. O. Cochran.

THE PERSIMMON. (_Diospyros virginiana._)

Have you ever, On your travels Through the queer, uncertain South, Had a ’simmon— Green Persimmon— Make a sortie on your mouth? —Frank H. Sweet.

The Persimmon, or Virginian Date Plum, is a North American tree, growing wild in nearly all of the Southern United States, and will thrive and ripen its fruits as far north as the state of Connecticut and the great lakes. It is one of about one hundred and eighty species belonging to the genus Diospyros. These are all hardy trees or shrubs. Representatives of the genus are found in nearly all regions that have a tropical or a temperate climate. The name Diospyros is of interest, for it is from a Greek name used by Theophrastus, and is derived from two words, one meaning Jove’s and the other wheat or grain. This name of Theophrastus has reference to the edible fruit and literally translated means divine or celestial food.

Only a few of the species are cultivated. These are highly ornamental trees with a beautiful foliage, which is rarely attacked by insects. The common Persimmon of America is the only species that is at all hardy in the north. This and the Japanese species (Diospyros kaki) are the only trees that produce the edible fruit commonly found in the market. The wood of nearly all the species of Diospyros is hard and close-grained. The trees that yield the beautiful ebony of commerce belong to this genus, and the species that is said to yield the best quality of this wood (Diospyros ebenum) is a native of the East Indies and Ceylon. It is also cultivated to some extent in hothouses and in tropical climates.

The common Persimmon of the United States (Diospyros virginiana) is a tree, usually growing to a height of about fifty or sixty feet, and rarely reaching one hundred feet. This is a beautiful round-topped tree with more or less spreading branches. The name Persimmon is of Indian origin and of unknown meaning. The fruit of this species is but lightly appreciated except by those who visit the forest regions in which it is native, for it is only cultivated to a very limited extent. The fruit is globular in form and quite plum-like. It varies both in size, color and flavor. When green the fruit is astringent and has a very disagreeable taste. This, however, disappears when the fruit becomes fully matured.

It is generally thought that the fruit of the Persimmon is not palatable until there has been a frost. Regarding this supposition Dr. L. H. Bailey says: “The old notion of early botanists that this fruit must be subjected to the action of frost before it becomes edible is erroneous. Many of the very best varieties ripen long before the appearance of frost, while others never become edible, being so exceedingly astringent that neither sun nor frost has any appreciable effect on them.” This fruit, so popular in the localities where it grows, was not unknown to the natives who traversed the wild woods before the time of the early explorations and conquests of America. A narrative of De Soto’s travels relates that his men, who were camping at a native town “halfe a league from Rio Grande” (Mississippi River) found the river “almost halfe a league broad and of great depth,” and that the natives brought to them “loaves made of the substance of prunes, like unto brickes.” These loaves were made of dried Persimmons, possibly, mixed with some pulverized grain. At the present time, in some southern localities, the fruit is not infrequently kneaded with bran or ground cereals, molded and baked.

AS TO ALLIGATORS.

The alligator generally impresses the mind as a reptile so dangerous that he should be given a wide berth on any and all occasions, yet it is really peaceable and harmless unless aroused to the defensive.

Anywhere south of the Mason and Dixon line, among the rivers, lakes and marshes, are found the alligators, but Florida, because of its great area of such places which the alligator delights in, may almost be termed the home of the alligator.

In traveling through the dense hammocks, where for miles and miles the sun scarcely penetrates through the heavy timber and the rank vegetation beneath, one may often meet with the huge saurian as he travels from one cave or mud hole to another. Tease or wound him, and he will show fight, and woe to him who then comes within reach of his vengeance. And it matters little to him with which end he must fight. He can crush equally well with his tail as with his jaws—or, to end the matter more speedily, he may use both. But if you go on about your business his ’gator-ship will do the same, and not notice you so much as ever to wink. Come upon him as he is lying asleep or sunning himself on a mud bank, if he is aroused and finds you between himself and the river he will sweep you aside as you yourself would a fly from the sugar bowl, and then slide into his native element, and he does this so quickly as to allow you little time to explain that you just happened there and had no designs on him whatever.

At other times you might think you are stepping out onto a sunken log imbedded in the mud, but find that the log suddenly gets very much alive, for under that slimy mud and grass an alligator was taking a sitz bath. You might have walked all around him with impunity, but walking on him is an indignity he resents quickly—so quickly that it is a question whether you get back to safety or are served up for the alligator’s dinner. Sometimes you may see an alligator lying motionless just under the surface of the water, with his long snout protruding. His jaws are open far enough to allow the flow of the current through them, and when a stray fish or other tid-bit comes along with that flow, the jaws snap down on it. He can be seen keeping his trap thus set for hours at a time. Should you row near in order to watch him, he will not seem to pay the least attention to you if you behave yourself; but if you drop an oar or shout at him he will drop down out of sight and lie low waiting to see what you are really up to. Now, if you will remain perfectly quiet as to motion, but will imitate the barking of a puppy, the squealing of a pig, or the caw of a crow, although there was not an alligator in sight, you will soon see several snouts appear, and gradually, if you keep up the call, the alligators will come near and nearer, in curiosity as to what the call means. A half dozen or more will be nosing about the boat, and you have a good chance to observe them closely—if your nerves can stand it. This sport is exceedingly dangerous, for if the boat should bump an alligator on the nose, straightway all would make common cause and reduce the offending boat into splinters; and that the occupant of the boat should escape would be next to impossible.

When the female alligator wishes to build her nest, she selects a dry place, open to the rays of the sun, yet near to water. She commences her nest by scraping together a lot of dry leaves, grass or other trash, until she has a round, compact bed as large as a cartwheel. On this she deposits her eggs. This done, she proceeds to cover them up by going round and round the nest and, with her body pushing more leaves and trash over the eggs. A well made nest is of the shape of a hay-cock, and very nearly so large. The nest completed, the alligator goes off to the nearby water, and leaves the sun to do the hatching. Many differ as to the time it takes for the eggs to hatch, as much depends on the construction of the nest, and also on the heat of the sun. So, also, many differ as to the number of eggs a female will lay in one season. Some aver that eighty is the average number, but the writer has never found more than forty in one nest.

Alligator eggs are white, oblong in shape, about three inches and a half in length, and have a ring around the middle. When first hatched the little fellows are red and black spotted and striped. They are exceedingly lively, and, as soon as hatched, make straight for the water—apparently in search of the protecting care of their mammy—but they often come back to sun themselves about the old nest.

The male alligator is a cannibal, and will eat his own young if he finds them. For this reason the female selects a place far from the usual haunts of her spouse when she prepares for maternal cares by building her nest. And she stays with her babies until she thinks they are capable of wiggling away from dangers themselves.

When in Florida many of the winter tourists secure these little alligators and take them North to keep them as pets. As they are exceedingly slow in growing, they make “little” and “cunning” pets for many years. When they get to be “big fellows,” they had best be dispensed with.

Although the alligator has long been considered one of the despised species of animals, or reptiles, it is far from being a useless one—though its use is only practical after it has been killed. One may say that there is no good alligator but a dead one, but one may qualify the remark by adding that the dead one is very good, indeed, for commercial purposes.

There is a great demand for alligator hides, and good prices are being paid for them. Consequently the hunting of alligators for the sake of their hides, and the preparing of them for shipment is a profitable industry. Then the tanning of these hides and, finally, the making of the leather into trunks, valises, purses, etc., makes three distinct industries due to the alligators.

Those making a business of hunting alligators generally take the night time for it, and the darker the night, the better.

Two men, provided with a light, easy-going skiff, a good rifle, an ax, and a bull’s eye lantern fastened to the forehead of one of the hunters, start out together. One man—the one with the lantern—sits in the bow of the boat; it is his business to “shine the eyes” of any alligator who might come within the radius of the light. The eyes of the game will shine like two balls of fire, and if the man is careful to make no unnecessary movements, and his partner is careful to scull the boat steadily and silently, they can get so near the game as to almost touch it.

The man in the bow holds, from the very start, the rifle ready for a quick shot. This shot comes so suddenly and so unexpectedly to the alligator, that, quick as he generally is, he falls a prey to his prolonged curiosity as to the nature of that approaching light.