Nature readers

Part 5

Chapter 54,497 wordsPublic domain

There is a marigold which grows at the Cape of Good Hope, and in dry weather has its head of seeds held close, like a round button. When rain is coming, this seed-head opens out, like a star with many points.

Do you see the use of these motions? The wild-oat, as it wriggles and twists back and forth, from the dampness of the air, or earth, twists its way into the soil. It plants itself by these motions.

The marigold keeps its seeds safe in dry weather, which would kill them. When rain comes, it opens the seed-head. Then the seeds fall out on moist earth, where they will sprout and grow.

Some seed-pods fly open when they are dry. The sand-box tree has seed-pods as large as an orange. They fly open in dry weather.

What is the reason of all these queer actions of the flowers? No doubt they are all due to light and moisture. To light, most of all.

The little pimpernel probably needs much heat and light to open its petals. Even a little moisture in the air, or a little less light than it likes, will cause it to keep shut.

A pimpernel in full bloom will close its blossoms almost as soon as you pick it. Very likely the slight moisture of your hand causes it to do that.

This motion of closing, during rain, may be very useful to some flowers. A frail flower with a large cup, such as a tulip or crocus, might, if open, be broken to pieces by a heavy shower. These flowers fold up, and expose only a close-pointed bud, to the storm. Then no rain can get among the petals.

Also, the rain might break the large pollen cases of the tulip, and wash the pollen all away. So, if the convolvulus had its long tube filled with water, the stamens and pistil would perhaps be harmed, and its seeds would not be able to grow.

LESSON XIV.

PLANT CLOCKS.

I knew an old man who made a great clock for his grandchildren. What kind of a clock do you suppose it was? The clock was in the garden, and it was made of flowers.

Did it tell the time well? Only pretty well. Flower clocks are as liable to get out of order as clocks made at a factory.

This clock was a great flower bed, divided into twelve parts. The divisions were marked out by little rows of box-plants. In the middle was a post three feet high. It had two clock hands on it, but _they_ were only for show. They did not move.

But the post had a sun-dial on it, and that gave true time. So the children could tell when the flower clock was not working well.

As there are twelve hours of day and twelve of night, and some plants open only at night, each of the twelve divisions of the clock was divided into two parts by a little line of red colors. On one side of this were the night bloomers, on the other side the day bloomers.

The children thought it lovely, and were proud of it. And the clock did for them what the grandfather wished,--it made them like and notice plants.

I have just said that there are plants which open only by night, and others which open only by day. This opening and shutting for day and night is called “the sleep of plants.”

This sleep of plants is not because the plant is tired; it is due to the absence or presence of light, and to changes in the amount of light. Yet, no doubt, in it the organs of the plant do rest, as their growth and action are not then so rapid.

Both the flowers and the leaves of plants have this sleep motion. We will look first at the sleep of flowers.

You have noticed that the morning-glories are open when you rise, and that they fold or shut up by noon. Have you in your garden a flower with gay yellow or scarlet blossoms, called the four-o’clock? That does not open until about four in the afternoon.

As you run to school in the morning, the dandelions are gay along the way-side. When you come from school in the afternoon, the dandelions are all folded in their green cups.

If this is so, why does not the flower-clock tell true time? You can see that owing to the changes in the heat and rising of the sun in different places, and seasons, the sleep of the flowers would not begin at the same time.

I have seen my morning-glories open as late as nine o’clock, and stay open all day in cool October days. In August they opened by six and were shut by eleven. So the four-o’clocks and dandelions may vary by an hour or two.

All the water-lilies shut at night. Some not only shut, but draw their heads down under water. I will tell you when you will find some flowers opening. At four in the morning you will find the goat’s-beard and the blue chicory opening. The chicory petals are then a fine blue. They become lighter in color until near mid-day, when they are almost white. Chicory is called “Miss-go-to-bed-at-noon” by some children, as the flowers shut at noon.

At five in the morning the common morning-glory and the poppy open. At six the yellow hawk’s-weed and dandelions look out on the way-side. At seven the water-lilies smile at us. At eight, if the day is fine, the pimpernel opens its red eyes.

At nine the marigold spreads out, and the tulip. At noon, on a hot day, you will find the tulip opened nearly flat. At eleven the Star of Bethlehem shuts up, while most of the day flowers are in their best bloom.

At twelve the lazy passion-flowers awake, and the sweet-peas have their banners opened wide. At two the wild daisies are brightest. Then at four in the afternoon, out comes the four-o’clocks, and at five the “beauty of the night,” and at six the delicate evening primrose. At seven the white lychnis, which blooms only at night, opens. Later still the night primrose puts out its white bloom, and at two o’clock in the morning the purple convolvulus wakes up and wonders why the sun is so late.

Now, in sleeping, most of the flowers close tight together. Besides the rest to the growing organs, which sleep brings them, this folding up keeps moisture from the pollen. Also, the flowers, whose partners are day-flying insects, keep out of the way of night insects by closing their pretty doors.

The evening primroses, night lychnis, and others, which have night-flying insect partners, keep shut when day insects are about. You will notice that most of these night plants have yellow or white petals, and a sweet perfume.

I have told you the leaves sleep also. Leaves sometimes sleep by closing the two halves of the leaf together by the mid-vein. Other leaves sleep by dropping the leaves down against the stem.

A young Swiss girl was one of the first to observe this sleep motion of leaves. She saw it first in the clover. When the leaves sleep in this way, you might think them faded and dying.

You will do well to watch this sleep of leaves. If you go into a garden, or field, or on the road-side, you will see that the leaves look very different after sunset from what they did in the noon-day.

The yellow sorrel and the clover are plants in which you can watch leaf-sleep well. You will find the small leaflets hanging down against the stalk. So if you look at the beans in the garden, you will see their leaves falling back, and perhaps a little bent over. One kind of oxalis, with very small, compound leaves, lifts its leaves up all in a bunch to go to sleep.

The leaves of trees have sleep-change. The mimosa and the barberry close their leaves at night.

Are these sleep motions of any use to plants? Yes. It has been found that this folding up, and falling back of leaves, will help them to resist cold and wet.

If, during a cold night, you pin the leaves out, so they cannot take the sleep position, they are likely to freeze. Also this change in the leaves, at night, helps to shield the plant from too much dew.

Sometimes, also, it is of use as it turns toward the dew the under side of the leaf. This under side has the most mouths for drinking water. Thus the flower has a good drink at night, after the dry, hot day.

Among the other motions of plants, I might speak of that of some leaves, which curl or shrink if you touch them. But I have not space for that now.

Perhaps you think that these lessons have told you a great many things about flowers. If you go on with the study of plants, you will see how much there is to tell, and how very little has here been told.

These lessons are only meant to stir up your interest in plants, and show you what wonders are in the plant world. After that, you will be sure to learn more for yourselves.

LESSON XV.

THE SCHOOL CABINET.

One of the wise teachers who are all the time thinking what will help and interest children wrote me a letter. In it, he said, “If you wish to do our school children a real service, write something about cabinets in our schools. In each school-house there should be a collection of natural history objects, brought together by teachers and children. This would be of great use, and the children would take pleasure in collecting specimens.”

So, right here, in the middle of this Third Book, I want to say a word about cabinets of natural curiosities.

In the Second Book I told you here and there how you might catch and keep a specimen. I told you how to dry beetles, star-fish, and a few other little animals.

If you make a collection of this kind, you can look at the object when you read of it in the book. That will help you to understand it and will interest you.

In a cabinet you could keep safely for use many nice things, which might otherwise be wasted. Also, you might spend some of your pennies in buying specimens. I think pennies are much better spent so than for candy and cake.

If you are collecting a cabinet of curiosities, I think you might write letters to other schools, or far off friends to ask them to send you specimens.

You might offer to trade objects, of which you have several, for something which other people have, and you have not.

I think, too, you would be very happy out of doors, looking for specimens. And I believe you and your teachers would be greater friends than ever, if you were all helping each other to get a cabinet together.

If, at first, you cannot have a cabinet case with glass doors, have some shelves. Have some boxes to set on the shelves, and lay pieces of glass over the boxes for covers. Those little paper boxes--, which jewellers and druggists use, are very nice for small objects,--as seeds, little shells, and so on. Nearly all children have some of these boxes.

When you have specimens in these little boxes, the teacher will write the name of the object on the box.

I knew a boy, who made a very nice collection of many kinds of wood. He cut the wood into wedges, with a bit of the bark left on. One side of the wedge he polished with glass and sand paper. One side he left rough. He wrote on each piece of wood the name of the tree from which it came.

I once saw some lovely pictures of leaves. They were made by a little girl. How did she make them? Could she paint? No.

She had some small sheets of stiff paper. She got some printer’s ink in a cup. She made two little balls of woollen cloth. She would take a nice, fresh, perfect leaf, and with one ball she would put a little ink, very gently, over all the under surface of the leaf. Then the next thing was to lay the leaf, inked side down, on a sheet of stiff paper, and pat it gently all over with the other woollen ball.

When she lifted up the leaf she had a picture of its shape, and of all its veins and edges. It looked like a nice engraving. She put the same kinds of leaves on the same sheet,--as the leaves of the rose family on one, the leaves of maples on another, and so on. Under each leaf she wrote its name.

Such a collection of leaf-patterns is fine in a cabinet. So is a collection of dried flowers,--called an herbarium. Your mother or teacher could show you how to make one.

You will find on the way-side, or in field and garden, some of those wonderful nests, built by spiders, wasps and bees, of which you read in the First Book of Nature Readers. And at the sea-side, you can find crabs, shells, and bits of coral, sponge and sea-weed.

Did you ever think what a pretty sight a row of pieces of many kinds of stone makes? Have you thought that stones are just hard, homely, brown things?

Have you noticed that marble is sometimes snow white, sometimes black, or veined with many colors? The granite is gray; sandstone is red, or gray, or purplish. Slate is black, purple, or veined in many shades. Other stones are black, red, yellow, brown, green, in fact of nearly all hues.

Each kind of stone has its own name. Some come from one place only, some from another. There is a reason why each kind has its color and grain. As you grow older, you may like to study about rocks and stones. Then how nice it will be to have on hand a collection of specimens.

A collection of birds’ nests is very fine. As we study in this book a little about birds, you will see how many kinds of nests there are. If you have a cabinet you can put into it one nest of each kind that you can find. Put into each nest one egg of the kind that belongs to the nest. Then put into the nest a little card, with the name of the bird, and the number of eggs commonly laid in each nest.

Be sure you do not break up the nest of a sitting bird. That is cruel. To keep the eggs you must blow them. Make a hole with a large pin in each end of the egg. Then blow hard, steadily in the pin-hole in the large end. All the inside of the egg will fly out at the hole at the other end.

Our next lesson will be about grasshoppers and their cousins. As the bodies of grasshoppers shrink when they dry, it is well to stuff them. How can you do that?

Put a little cotton wool on the end of a short thread, threaded in a long, coarse needle. The grasshopper should have been dead an hour or two, before you try to stuff it. Take it by the head and pass the needle through from the back end of the body, and bring it out under the breast. If you draw it gently, the cotton will go in with the thread.

Several pieces of cotton drawn in, in this way, will fill the body enough to hold it in shape. If the cotton is wet in alcohol, or camphor, it is better.

Worms, spiders, toads, minnows, and such soft-bodied things, must be kept in clear glass bottles, filled with alcohol.

Now the chief thing in a collection is to have it good of its kind. The specimens should be as perfect as possible, and be kept neat and clean. Especially they should be set in good order. They should all have labels, with their names on them.

A collection well marked will be worth much more than one without the names placed on the specimens. A collection all jumbled together, without order, will be of little use.

If you set a bird’s nest here, a wasp’s nest there, a bright stone next, and then a beetle, or a card of butterflies, your cabinet will have small teaching value. Remember a cabinet is not merely made to “look pretty” like a doll’s house, or a shop window.

Place things of a kind together. Then put kinds which are nearest like next each other. Put your insects together, and arrange them by their orders. Put the beetles together, the butterflies together, the wasps, and bees, and so on. Spiders come in as one order of the insects. Your crabs and shrimps must stand together, but be placed next the insects, as they are of the jointed class of creatures.

Put your birds’ nests, and eggs, and any stuffed birds, or pictures of birds that you may have, together. And so on, with all the other things.

Your cabinet may be a small one, but if it is neatly arranged, and all the specimens are good of their kind, rightly named, and kept clean, it will be of real value.

Do not be in such a hurry to collect, that you put in rubbish, instead of good specimens. A butterfly with broken wings, a beetle without a head, and a spider that has lost half its legs, are not worth a place in a cabinet.

To get together even a small cabinet of objects in natural history, takes time, care, and patience. I knew a girl who was carefully collecting and mounting beetles. In a whole summer she got only twenty-five. But each one was perfect, different from the rest, nicely fastened in place, and had its name written beside it. So her collection was of real value.

After you have secured a nice little cabinet, the trouble will be to keep it safe, and in order. Specimens must be taken care of. All specimens of plants, and insects, are very liable to be destroyed by little bugs. Only the things kept in alcohol are really safe from being eaten.

Camphor and red pepper are of some use to keep out these enemies. Your teachers will know, or can easily learn, how to prepare the specimens with poisons, which will kill the mites and not harm you or the specimens. You must leave it to them.

It is nice to have a case with glass doors. If you cannot have that, arrange as many of the objects as you can in boxes with panes of glass laid over them. For open cabinets it is well to have a piece of fine gauze to lay over each shelf, or over the whole set of shelves, when the cabinet is not in immediate use.

Dust makes a cabinet look very ugly. But you cannot clean off beetles and butterflies with a dusting cloth or brush. It would ruin such delicate things.

You can gently move the boxes and specimens, and wipe off the shelves, and the sides of the boxes. Then blow, or fan, the dust from the specimens. Even minerals should have the dust blown from them, not wiped off. It is easy to rub the bloom and the little fine points, and edges, from a mineral specimen.

When you have made up your minds to have a cabinet in your school, look about and see what your friends have to give you for it. Many people have a few natural history curiosities, for which they do not really care. Such persons would gladly give their treasures to a school cabinet. But there should be some bright little lad or lass to say: “Oh, we have a cabinet at our school. Would you not be willing to send these things there?”

Correct pictures of birds, fish, insects, and flowers, are useful in a cabinet, but you must be sure that they are correct before you give them a place. You must not put the pictures into your cabinet merely because they are pretty. If they are wrong they will give you false ideas. I have seen colored pictures of insects with some of the legs set upon the hinder part of the body instead of all upon the chest part. Such a picture is of no use.

Keen eyes to see what comes in your own way, and keen wits to suggest to other people what they can do for you, will steadily help to build up the school cabinet.

LESSON XVI.

THE OLD MAN OF THE MEADOW.

When I was about seven years old, I caught a grasshopper and put him into a bottle.

Then I sat down outside the bottle, and looked at the grasshopper. He sat inside the bottle, and looked at me.

It began to grow upon my mind that the grasshopper looked much like an old man. His face, with the big, solemn eyes, and straight mouth, was like an old man’s face.

He wore a gray coat, like a loose duster. He had a wrinkled greenish vest. He wore knee-breeches and long red stockings.

The more I looked at him, the more he looked like a little, grave, old-time man who came to visit my aged grandfather.

I had a cousin who at dusk would sit with me in a corner of the big sofa, and repeat to me a poem, called the “Prisoner of Chillon.” That sad poem had made me feel very sorry for all prisoners. I thought my grasshopper in the bottle felt like a prisoner. I said, “Now you may go, my Old Man of the Meadow.”

I took the cork out of the bottle. The grasshopper at once leaped up, and sat on the rim of the bottle. Then a strange thing happened! The Old Man of the Meadow spread out two wide brown wings. They had a broad, lemon-colored band on them. They were gay as the wings of a butterfly! On them he sailed away!

I could hardly believe my eyes. I ran after him to a tall stalk of golden-rod. There he sat a plain, gray-green old man. But again he spread out the wide wings, and was gone!

My Old Man of the Meadow had then this splendid dress-coat under his sober overcoat! Seated at rest, he looked plain and quiet,--a creature of the earth. Lifted into the air, he was nearly as fine as a butterfly.

Do you not wish to know something more of this Old Man of the Meadow, the grasshopper? The name of this insect at once tells you something about him. He lives much in the grass, and his chief motion is in hops, or long jumps. He has another name, “the murmurer.” This is given because of the noise or song he makes. He sings to Mrs. Grasshopper. His song is loud and shrill. It is made by rubbing his wings one upon the other.

He has a little piece of skin like a tight drum-head set in each wing. As he moves his wings, this tiny drum vibrates, or trembles, and makes the shrill sound.

Mrs. Grasshopper does not have this drum in her wings. She has, however, at the end of her body, a nice little sword. The French call her “the jumper with the sword.” Is her sword to fight with? No. This little sword opens into several blades. She uses it to place her eggs snugly in the ground. The sword blades open, and the eggs slide safely down between them, into the little earth-bed. There they lie until the young grasshoppers hatch out.

You will find as we study about grasshoppers, that they do not all live in the grass. Some spend most of their time in trees.

Let us take a closer look at the grasshopper. As he is an insect,[13] he should have a body made in rings, in three parts, with four wings and six legs set on the second, or chest part.

Just here let us say, that if you will look closely you will see that the head of an insect is made of four rings, and its chest is made of three rings. They are rings grown wider than the rest.

Our Old Man of the Meadow does not lack any of the parts which a proper insect should have.

The order which he belongs to is called the _straight-wings_, because the insects belonging to it do not fold their wings crosswise.

The grasshopper family is called the family of “the murmurers,” from their music.

There are six families of the straight-wings. In this book we shall study a little about three of them,--the grasshoppers, the crickets, and the locusts. If you wish, also, to learn about their cousin, the cockroach, suppose you, who live in city houses, go down to the kitchen, and catch him about the water pipes, and study him for yourselves!

The order of straight-wings is often divided in this way: The runners,--as the cockroach; the snatchers, a kind which have their fore-feet something like hands, to snatch with; the walkers, who seldom fly or jump; and the jumpers. The grasshopper is one of the jumpers.

If you look well at the grasshopper, you will see that his front pair of legs is shorter than the others. This hinders him in walking over a level surface. But it helps him in walking up a tree, or small plant, or a wall.

See the hind legs! They are more than twice as long as the others. The thigh, or upper part, is very long and strong. By means of these big legs, the grasshopper is a famous jumper.

Now, if you have a grasshopper to look at, you will see that the feet have four parts. The part of the leg between the foot and the thigh has sharp points like the teeth of a comb.

The hind part of the body is long and slender, and, being made of rings, can bend easily. In the great, green grasshopper all the body is of a fine green tint.

Let us look at the wings. The upper pair, or wing-covers, are large and long. Notice two things about the wings; they lap at the tips, and are high in the middle. When they are shut, they have a shape like a slanting roof. The upper ones are longer than the lower ones.