Part 14

Having one day descended into the grottoes of Arcy to examine the stalectites, I was surprised to find, upon a spot covered with alabaster, and in a place so gloomy, a kind of earth so very different; it consisted of blackish matter several feet in width and breadth, and composed almost entirely of wings and legs of insects, as if immense numbers had collected there and perished together. This heap, however, was nothing more than the dung of bats, amassed, probably, from their having made that their favourite residence for many years; for in the whole extent of the grottoes, which is more than the eighth of a league, I saw no other similar mass; I therefore concluded that they had fixed upon this spot, because a small gloomy light reached it from the top, and that they had not proceeded further, lest they should have been too much enveloped in obscurity.

Bats have nothing in common with birds, except the faculty of flying, and therefore must be classed among quadrupeds; but as the ability to fly implies a great degree of force in the superior and anterior parts of the body, the pectoral muscles of the bat are more strong and fleshy than those of any other quadruped, a circumstance in which they have some resemblance to birds; in every other respect their conformation both external and internal is different. The lungs, heart, organs of generation, and all other viscera, except the prominent sexual distinction, which is similar to that of a man or a monkey, are the same as in other quadrupeds; like them also they are viviparous, and have teeth and nipples. It has been affirmed that they bring forth only two at a time, that they suckle their young, and even carry them when they fly. It is in summer they couple and bring forth, for during winter they are in a state of torpor; some cover themselves with their wings as with a cloak, and suspend themselves by their hind legs in subterraneous caverns; others cling to walls, or conceal themselves in holes. When they retire they do it in numbers, and collect together to defend each other from the cold; and they pass the whole winter, from the end of autumn to the spring, without either food or motion. They can support hunger better than cold; and though they can subsist many days without food, they are nevertheless carnivorous; for when opportunity serves, they will devour meat of all kinds, whether raw or roasted, fresh or corrupted.

There were but two species of bats described as natives of our climate, until M. Daubenton discovered five others equally common and abundant, which renders it astonishing they should have remained so long unnoticed. The whole of them are widely different, and never dwell together. The first is the common bat, (_fig. 86._) which we have already described. The next is the long-eared, (_fig. 84._) which is perhaps more numerous than the common bat; its body is more diminutive, its wings are shorter, its snout smaller and more pointed, and its ears large beyond all proportion. The third species, which I call the noctule, from the Italian word _noctula_, was not known, though very common in France, and more frequently met with than the two preceding. It is found under the roofs of houses, castles, and churches, and in hollow trees; it is almost as large as the common bat, its ears are broad and short, its hair of a reddish cast, and its voice sharp and piercing. The fourth is distinguished, by the name of the _serotine_; it is smaller than the common bat or the noctule, and nearly the size of the long-eared; its ears, however, are sharp, and pointed, its wings are black, and its body of a deep brown. The fifth I call the pipistrelles, (_fig. 85._) from the Italian word _pipistrello_, which signifies also a bat. Of all the bats this is the smallest and least ugly, though the upper lip is swelled, its eyes small and hollow, and its forehead covered with hair. The sixth is named the barbastelle (_fig. 89._) from _barbestello_ another Italian word, signifying a bat. This is nearly of the same size as the long-eared; its ears are as broad but not so long. The name _barbastelle_ is the more applicable to it, as it seems to have whiskers, which nevertheless are only protuberances over the lips; its snout is short, nose flat, and its eyes close to its ears. The seventh, and last, is distinguished as the horse-shoe bat, (_fig. 88._). The face of this animal is singularly deformed, of which the most apparent feature is a membrane in the form of an horse-shoe round the nose and upper lip; this species is very common in France, among the walls and in the vaults of old ruinous castles, and of which there are large and small, but in form, and in every other particular, they are similar. As I have not met with any of the intermediate sizes, I cannot determine whether this difference is produced by age, or a permanent variety in the same species.

THE LOIR.

Of the loir, or great dormouse, or as some naturalists have termed it, the fat squirrel, there are three species; and, like the marmot, they all sleep during the winter; namely, the loir, the lerot, and the muscardin, or common dormouse. These three species have been confounded together although they are very different, and easily distinguished. The loir is nearly of the size of the squirrel, and like that animal, has its tail covered with long hair; the lerot is not so large as a rat, has very short hair on its tail, except at the extremity, where there is a tuft of long hair; the dormouse is not bigger than the common mouse, its tail is covered with longer hair than the lerot's, but shorter than the loir's, and it also has a tuft at the extremity. The loir differs from the other two, by having black spots about its eyes, and the dormouse by having white hair upon his back. They are all white or whitish under the neck and belly; the white of the lerot is beautiful, that of the loir more dark, and that of the dormouse has a yellow line in all the inferior parts.

_Engraved for Barr's Buffon._

There is no truth in the assertion that these animals sleep during winter, for they are not in a state of natural sleep, but in a torpor produced by the coldness of the blood, by which they lose the use of their senses and members. Their internal heat does not exceed the temperature of the air. When the heat of the air is ten degrees above the freezing point, their heat is exactly the same. The ball of a small thermometer I have plunged into the bodies of several living lerots, and always found the heat of their bodies was nearly equal to the temperature of the air; and sometimes when applied to the very heart, I have observed the thermometer fall from half a degree to a whole one, the temperature of the air being at eleven. Now it is well known that the internal heat of man, and of the generality of quadrupeds, at all times exceeds thirty, and therefore there is little reason to be surprised that these animals, whose heat is so small, should become torpid, when their little internal heat ceases to be assisted by the external heat of the air; a circumstance that naturally happens when the thermometer is not above ten or eleven degrees above the freezing point. This is the real cause of the torpor of these animals, a cause which has been overlooked, although it extends to all animals which sleep during winter. Alike are its effects upon these animals, the hedge-hog and bats; and though I have never had the opportunity of trying them upon the marmot, I am persuaded its blood is not less cold, since like them it is subject to a torpor during winter.

The torpor continues as long as the cause which produces it, and ceases with the cold. A few degrees of heat above ten or eleven is sufficient to reanimate them, and if kept in a warm place during winter they do not become torpid, but go about and eat and sleep, from time to time, like other animals. When they feel the cold they crowd close together, and roll themselves up like balls, in order to present a smaller surface to the air, and to preserve some warmth. It is thus they are found during winter in hollow trees, and in holes of walls exposed to the south: in these they lie without motion, on moss and leaves, and when taken, if tossed or rolled about they never stir, or shew any signs of life; it is by a mild and gradual heat alone they are to be recovered, for if carried suddenly near a fire they perish. Though in this state they are without motion, though their eyes are shut, and they seem to be deprived of all their senses, yet they feel pain when it is very acute; they testify it when burned or wounded by a contraction, and a little hollow cry, which they will repeat several times; hence it is plain the internal sensibility must subsist, as well as the action of the heart and lungs, yet it is to be presumed that these vital motions act not with the same force and power while in the torpid as in the usual state. The circulation, probably, is not performed then but in the larger vessels; the respiration is slow and feeble, the secretions are very scanty, and perspiration must be nearly annihilated, since they could not pass several months without eating were they to lose as much of their substance in proportion by perspiration as they do when they have an opportunity of repairing it by taking of sustenance; they do lose some part, however, since in very long winters they die in their holes. Perhaps indeed it is not the duration but the severity of the cold that cuts them off, as they soon die if exposed to an intense frost. What induces me to believe that it is not from waste of substance they perish in long winters, is their being very fat in autumn, and equally so on their reviving in spring; this abundance of fat being an internal substance, sufficient to supply what they lose by perspiration. Besides, as cold is the sole cause of their torpor, and they never fall into that state but when the temperature of the air is beyond the tenth or eleventh degree, they often revive during the winter, for in that season there are frequently hours, and even days, in which the liquor will be found at the twelfth, thirteenth, or fourteenth degree, and during this mild weather the dormice quit their holes in search of food, or rather eat what they had amassed the preceding autumn.

Aristotle asserted, and he has been followed by succeeding naturalists, that dormice pass the whole winter without eating, and that during this period of abstinence they become very fat, being more nourished by sleep alone than other animals by food. This is both untrue and impossible. In its torpid state, which lasts four or five months, it could only fatten by the air it breathes; and allowing (which however is granting too much) that part of this air is converted into nourishment, could so considerable an increase result from it? Would it be sufficient to recompense the waste by perspiration? Aristotle might have been led into this error by the winters in Greece being very mild, where the dormice do not sleep continually, but taking nourishment every time they were revived by the warmth they might become fat, though in a torpid state. The truth is they are always fat, especially in autumn and summer. Their flesh is not unlike that of the guinea-pig. They were reckoned delicacies by the Romans, who reared great numbers of them. Varro describes the method of making warrens for them, as does Apicius of dressing them in the best manner. Their instructions, however, have been neglected, either from a disgust to a loir from his near resemblance to a rat, or from his flesh being unpalatable. I have been told by peasants who had eaten them, that it is hardly preferable to that of the water-rat.

The loir has a considerable resemblance to the squirrel in its natural habits; it lives in forests, climbs up trees, and leaps from branch to branch, though not so nimbly as the latter, because his legs are not so long, and he is as remarkable for being fat as the other is for being slender. Nuts, and other wild fruits, compose the usual nourishment of both; the loir likewise eats small birds, which he takes in their nests. He does not, like the squirrel, nestle on the upper parts of trees, but makes a bed of moss in the trunks of those which are hollow; he also shelters himself in the clefts of rocks, and always prefers dry places. He avoids moisture, drinks little, and rarely descends to the ground; but there is a material difference between him and the squirrel, as the latter is easily tamed, but the loir always remains wild. They couple about the end of spring, and the females bring forth in summer, generally producing four or five at a time. Their growth is quick, and it is asserted that they do not live more than six years. In Italy, where they still eat them, the inhabitants dig pits in the woods, which they line and cover with straw and moss; for these pits they chuse a dry spot, sheltered by rocks and exposed to the south; to which the loirs resort in great numbers, and the people find them there in a torpid state, about the end of autumn, when they are fittest to eat. They are full of courage, and will defend their lives to the last extremity; their fore-teeth are both long and strong, and they bite violently; they have no fear of the weasel nor small birds of prey; they baffle the attempts of the fox by mounting to the tops of the trees, nor have they any very formidable enemies but the martens and wild cats.

This species is not very much diffused; it is not met with in the cold climates, such as Lapland and Sweden; at least the naturalists of the north do not mention it; the species they describe being the muscardin, the smallest of the three; neither, I presume are they to be met within very hot climates, travellers being silent about them. There are few or none of them in open countries like England; they require a temperate climate, and the country covered with wood. We meet with them in Spain, France, Greece, Italy, Germany, and Switzerland, where they live in forests, upon hills, and not on the tops of mountains, like the marmot, which, though subject to a torpor from the cold, seems to delight in frost and snow.

THE LEROT.

The loir lives in forests and seems to shun our habitations, but the lerot, (called sometimes the middle dormouse, at others the garden squirrel) on the contrary, inhabits our gardens, and is sometimes to be found in our houses; this species is likewise more numerous and more generally diffused; and there are few gardens which are not infested with them. They nestle in the holes of walls, climb up trees, choose the best fruits, and devour them as they begin to ripen. Peaches seem to be their favourite fruit, and whoever wishes to preserve them must take pains to destroy the lerot. They likewise climb up pear, plum, and apricot trees, and in a scarcity of fruits, they eat almonds, nuts, and even leguminous plants. These they carry off in great quantities to their holes, which they dig in the earth, above all, in well cultivated gardens, where they make themselves beds of herbs, moss, and leaves. The cold stupefies them, but they are revived by the heat; eight or ten of them are sometimes found in one place, in a state of torpor, all huddled together, and rolled up in the midst of their hoard of provisions. They couple in spring and bring forth in summer. They commonly have five or six young at a time; they are very quick of growth, but do not engender till the second year; their flesh is not eatable like that of the loir; they have the same disagreeable smell as the house rat, whereas the loir has no bad smell; they never become so fat as the latter. This animal is found in all the temperate climates of Europe, and even in Poland and Prussia, but they do not appear to exist in Sweden and the more northern countries.

THE DORMOUSE.

Of all the species of the rat, the dormouse (_fig. 90._) is the least ugly. It has brilliant eyes, and a full tail, which is rather white than red. It never lives in houses, and seldom in gardens, but like the loir, chiefly frequents the woods, and shelters itself in the hollows of old trees. This species is by no means so numerous as that of the lerot. The dormice are always found alone in their several holes, and I had much difficulty to procure a few of them; they however, seem to be pretty common in Italy, and not unknown in the northern climates, since they are comprised by Linnæus in his list of Swedish animals; but they do not appear to exist in England, for Mr. Ray in his Synopsis, who had seen it in Italy, says the small dormouse found in England is not red on the back like the Italian muscardin, and that it probably belongs to a different species. In France it is the same as in Italy, and is justly described by Aldrovandus in his History of Quadrupeds; but he adds there are two species in Italy, one of which is scarce, and has the smell of musk, the other more general without any particular odour, and that at Bologna they are both called _muscardino_ from their resemblance in figure and size. Of these two species we only know the latter, as the dormice of France have no smell either good or bad. Its flesh, however, is unfit to eat, and it never becomes so fat as the loir.

The dormouse becomes torpid with cold and revives in mild weather, and like the loir and lerot hoards up nuts and other dry fruits. It forms its nest upon trees, like the squirrel, though generally lower among the branches of nut-trees, and underwood; the nest is made of herbs interwoven, is about six inches in diameter and is only open at the top. Many countrymen have assured me that they have found the nests of dormice in coppices and in hedges, that they were surrounded with leaves and moss, and that each nest contained three or four young ones. As soon as they grow up they quit their rests, shelter themselves in the hollows or under trunks of trees, where they repose, lay up provisions, and sleep through the winter.

THE SURMULOT.

This species of rat has been known but for a few years, and is not mentioned by any naturalist except M. Brisson, who calls it the Rat of the Woods, but as it bears a greater resemblance to the field-mouse, in colour and habitudes, than to the rat, I have termed it the Surmulot, or large Field-mouse. This animal is more strong and mischievous than the rat; it has reddish hair, long naked tail, the backbone is arched like that of a squirrel, its body is much thicker, and it has whiskers like a cat. It is but a few years since this species has been spread in the neighbourhood of Paris; from whence they came is not known, but they have multiplied prodigiously, which is not wonderful when it is considered that they produce from twelve to nineteen young ones at a time. They were first discovered at Chantilly, Marly, and Versailles. From M. le Roi I received a great number of them both alive and dead, and he also favoured me by communicating the remarks he had made upon this new species. The males are larger, stronger, and more mischievous than the females. When pursued or endeavoured to be taken, they turn and bite the stick or hand which touches them: their bite is sharp and dangerous, for it is immediately followed by a considerable swelling, and the wound, though small, does not soon heal. They bring forth three times in a year, so that two individuals may produce 36 in twelve months. Some of the females which I received were with young, and as I kept them in cages, two or three days before they brought forth I observed them busily gnawing the wood of their cages and putting the pieces into a kind of order, making beds for their little ones.

The surmulot, in some of its habits, resembles the water-rat. Though they take up their residences anywhere, they seem to prefer the banks by the water; the dogs also chase them with the same furious eagerness as they do the water-rat. When pursued, and they can equally take to the water, or shelter themselves in a thorny thicket, they prefer the former, plunge in without dread, and swim with great facility. This particularly happens when they cannot regain their burrows, for, like the field-mouse, they dig holes in the earth, or occupy those made by rabbits. They may also be taken by means of ferrets, who pursue them into their hole with the same ardour as they do the rabbit. These animals pass the summer in the country; they live principally on fruits or grain, yet are carnivorous, devouring young hares, rabbits, partridges, and other birds, and when they get into a hen-roost they destroy, like the polecat, more than they can eat. About November the females and the young ones quit the fields, and proceed in troops to barns, where they commit infinite havock, by destroying the straw, consuming the grain, and infecting every thing with their ordure. The old males remain in the fields each in his respective hole, where they accumulate acorns, beech-mast, &c. filling it to the very edge, and remaining themselves at the bottom. They do not become torpid in the winter, like the dormouse, but come out of their holes every fine day. Those which reside in barns drive away all the mice and rats; and it has even been remarked, that the common rats are less frequent in the environs of Paris since the surmulot became so numerous.

THE ALPINE MARMOT.

Of all modern writers upon Natural History Gesner has done most to enlarge our knowledge in this science. Aldrovandus is little more than his commentator, and those of less repute are his mere copyists; we shall not, therefore, hesitate to follow him in treating of the Marmots, (_fig. 91._) which are natives of his own country (Switzerland), and of which he must have been better informed than those who may have accidentally kept a few in their houses. And as his remarks perfectly coincide with those observations we had an opportunity to make, we can have no reason to doubt that what he further relates is equally to be depended upon. The marmot, when taken young, is easily tamed; more than most wild animals, and almost as much as our domestic ones. It is soon learnt to perform feats with a stick, to dance, and to readily obey the voice of its master. Like the cat it has an antipathy to dogs; when it has become familiar in the house, and finds itself protected by its master, it will attack the largest dog, and fasten on them with his teeth. It is not quite so large as a hare, but more stout, and has great strength joined to peculiar agility. He has four strong teeth in the front, with which he bites terribly; but unless provoked he neither attacks dogs nor men; but if care is not taken he will gnaw furniture, and even make holes through wooden partitions. As his thighs are short, and his toes formed like the bear, he often sits erect, and walks with ease upon his hind feet; he puts food to his mouth with the fore paws, and eats like a squirrel. He runs much swifter up hill than on a plain; climbs trees, and mounts the clefts of rocks, or contiguous walls, with great facility; so much so that it is said the Savoyards, who are the general chimney-sweepers of Paris, learned from the marmot their trade. They eat indiscriminately whatever is given them, whether flesh, bread, fruit, herbs, roots, pulse, or insects, but of milk and butter they are particularly fond; and, though less inclined to theft than the cat, they industriously endeavour to get into a dairy, where they will lap great quantities of milk, purring all the while like a cat when she is pleased. Milk, indeed, is the only liquid for which they shew any inclination, as they seldom drink water, and refuse wine.