Chapter II: Part 2

The wild columbine, represented in one of our illustrations, secretes its nectar at the bottom of long tubular spurs, which can be traversed by slender probosces, but are impassable to creeping insects. Spurs are developed in many flowers, notably the orchids, and they are always associated with nectar secretion and the visits of proboscis-bearing insects.

In the Pentstemon, a plant whose flowers have two lips, as in the Oswego Tea in our illustration, but not so prominent, the nectar is secreted in a little pit. Across the mouth of this pit one of the stamens, modified for this purpose, is placed like a drop-bar, leaving but a thin crevice leading to the nectar pit. Through this crevice a thread-like proboscis may be thrust, but a creeping insect cannot pass.

In the snapdragon the two lips of the flower are tightly closed, the lower one decidedly projecting. Any small insect reaching this lower lip as a natural landing place finds no entrance. When the bumble-bee alights upon the lower lip, however, his weight depresses it and he forces his way in, and in passing to another flower effects pollination. It is interesting to note that after this first and important visit the lips remain open and other insects pass in freely, "being invited," as some one has said, "to eat at the second table."

In most of the orchids there is a very complete adaptation of the flower to its insect, by which almost every insect excepting one special kind obtains nothing for its visit. The nectar is usually in the end of a long spur, and to obtain it the head of the insect must just fit between two sticky buttons to which the pollen-masses are attached. The length of the spur is nicely adjusted to the length of the proboscis of the visiting insect, but his head must also be of a certain breadth. If an insect visits the flower with a proboscis too short or too long, or a head too broad or too narrow, its visit is unavailing. The danger of such narrow specialization is apparent in the case of the orchids, for each plant is so dependent upon a special insect that the disappearance of the latter seriously endangers the continued existence of the former.

Protective closure.--It has long been noticed that certain flowers open only in the evening, the evening primrose being a conspicuous example. These flowers are adapted to the visits of the night-fliers, the moths, and about clusters of evening primroses numerous large hawk-moths may be seen after sunset. During the day the flowers are closed and safe from the visits of any insect, but by opening in the evening they are not only ready for the visits of the night-fliers, but they avoid the visits of most creeping insects, notably the ants, who are not abroad after "the dew falls."

Protection against grazing animals.--Although we are considering the ways by which creeping insects are checked in their efforts to visit flowers, it seems pertinent to mention the more universal danger which comes from grazing animals. If flowers were as attractive to grazing animals as they are to insects they would be in danger of wholesale destruction. It can be observed, however, that these animals as a rule avoid the flowers of a plant, although they may strip off its leaves. It is believed that this avoidance is due to the fact that in or about the flower cluster there are usually secreted bitter, sour, or nauseous substances, which grazing animals have learned to avoid. It should not be imagined that these substances are there for that purpose, but being there the result is that the flowers are avoided. It is unknown how generally true this is, and the effectiveness of this method of protection may have been exaggerated. Those who can observe cattle, however, are in a position to test them with the flowers of the various plants they are known to eat, and determine how far they avoid them.

In conclusion, it may be of interest to call attention to the great complexity of relations existing among plants and animals by repeating Darwin's famous illustration known as "Cats and Clover." In a certain district in England he observed that the clover was pollinated by the bumblebees, which had their nests in the fields. It followed, therefore, that the more the bumblebees, the more the clover. He also observed that the field mice preyed upon the young broods of the bumblebees, and, therefore, the more the field mice, the fewer the bumblebees and the less the clover. When cats were plenty and preyed upon the field mice it followed that the more the cats, the fewer the mice, the more the bumblebees, and the more the clover. Therefore, the crop of clover depended upon the presence of cats in the neighborhood. John Merle Coulter.

HOW WE MAY BEST PAY THE DEBT.

In the last number of Birds and Nature we saw that the debt we owe the birds is by no means a small one, but is really greater than we can hope ever to fully repay. It is a debt of gratitude for the good work the birds do in keeping checked the increase of insect life which would surely become a great pest if very numerous; it is a debt of money value for the fruits and grains and other products of the earth which the birds make possible by eating the insects which eat the plants; it is a debt of love for the pleasure and inspiration which they bring with each returning springtide, for the courage which their cheerful endurance of all sorts of bad weather inspires. There is one best way to pay the debt, and that way is to take such a lively interest in the birds that we shall want to know all about their lives and as much as we can learn about the language they speak and the thoughts they have. When we have such an interest in them we shall not want to kill them, but we shall do what we can to make them love us and trust us so they will no longer want to fly away when we come near them.

We shall be paying the debt we owe to the birds when we try to make friends with them, for there is nothing greater or better than true friendship, nothing that counts for more where friends are so greatly needed. Our first effort at making friends with the birds is usually to give them something to eat, forgetting or not knowing that what is best for us may not be good for them. After we have watched them getting their own meals we shall know what each bird likes best, and then, instead of frightening them away with food that they cannot eat, we shall draw them to us by offering them what they like best.

We may think that we shall be able to learn all about the birds if we can get them into a cage and study them there. But birds are not free to do what they want to do when they are caged up, and there are many interesting things about them that we shall never know if we study only the caged ones. What we want to know is the bird just as he is as a free bird in the fields and woods. We shall not be paying much of the debt if we cage him up even to study his habits.

What we need the most is the most valuable to us. What the birds need most is a place where they can live and raise their young with the least danger. All birds are surrounded by their natural enemies, which are sure to kill a great many of them, but with the addition of cats, rats and human beings intent upon killing them they seem to have a poor chance of life. Then if we can provide a place or places where these enemies will be less sure to get them and their eggs or young, we shall be paying the debt we owe in the greatest measure possible. Can we provide any such safe retreats? I think we can. Your own door yard may be made such a retreat. Banish all cats and dogs who love bird flesh. See to it that stray cats and dogs are in danger of their lives on your lawn or in your yard. Let every boy know that the birds on your premises must not be disturbed in any way. Instead of carefully trimming out all the tangles of the vines and branches remember that such places are where the birds delight to build their nests. Put up bird boxes and houses for the martins, wrens, swallows and bluebirds and keep the English sparrows out of them. Make it easy for the birds while they are feeding their young. In short, give the birds which prefer your yard a little attention and you will soon be on friendly terms with them and they will many times repay any trouble you may put yourself to for their sakes. Any study of the birds is not wasted time, but time profitably spent. Lynds Jones.

A FEW OF THE BIRD FAMILY.

The old bob white, and chipbird;
The flicker and chee-wink,
And little hopty-skip bird
Along the river brink.

The blackbird and snowbird,
The chicken-hawk and crane;
The glossy old black crow-bird,
And buzzard, down the lane.

The yellowbird and redbird,
The tom-tit and the cat;
The thrush and that redhead bird
The rest's all pickin' at!

The jay-bird and the bluebird,
The sap-suck and the wren--
The cockadoodle-doo bird,
And our old settin' hen!
James Whitcomb Riley.

THE DOMESTIC FOWL.

The writers of antiquity used the term fowl to include all the members of the bird tribe and, in some cases, the young of other animals. Feathered creatures, no matter what their habits, were not called birds, neither were they separated into classes other than the "Fowls of the Air," "Fowls of the Sea," "Fowls of the Earth," and similar descriptive divisions.

In the seventeenth and the earlier part of the eighteenth century, the word fowl was applied to any large feathered animal and the term bird to those of less size. In early times the word bird was used in the sense of brood and included the young of all animals. In an early act of the Parliament of Scotland we find the expression "Wolf-birdis," referring to the very young wolf.

At the present time the term fowl in its wider sense is generally used to include all the forms of farm poultry, both when living and when prepared for food. More specifically it is applied to the domestic cock and hen, or, as they are more familiarly called, chickens (Gallus domesticus). The word chicken appropriately belongs to the common fowl when under one year of age, yet it is used to indicate those of any breed and of any age between birth and maturity. In this connection it is of interest to note that in the English language the common fowl has no distinctive name. The term hen, frequently used, should be applied only to the female of this and other domestic fowls.

The progenitor of the common fowl is generally conceded to be the Red Jungle Fowl (Gallus ferrugineus or bankiva), though there are three other wild species, all oriental. This species is a native of India, a part of China, the adjacent islands and the Philippines. Its habits are diversified, for we are told it may "be found in lofty forests and in the dense thickets, as well as in bamboo-jungles, and when cultivated land is near its haunts, it may be seen in the fields, after the crops are cut, in straggling parties of from ten to twenty."

This wild species closely resembles the breed of poultry fanciers called the "Black-breasted Game," but the crow of the wild cock is not as loud or prolonged as that of the tame one.

All the evidence that we possess seems to indicate that this wild fowl was first domesticated in Burmah. The Chinese, as indicated by tradition, received their poultry from Burmah as early as 1400 B. C. Records show that about 1200 or 800 B. C., as some authorities hold, the eating of the tame fowl was forbidden, though the use of the wild fowl as food was permitted.

It seems evident that the fowl reached Europe, after domestication, about the sixth century before the time of Christ. It continued westward, for Julius Caesar found it in Britain at the time of his conquests. Both the wild and the tame fowls are mentioned by the early Latin and Greek writers. Homer writing about 900 B. C. does not refer to the fowl, but it is mentioned by Aristophanes at a date near 500 B. C. It is of interest to know that the domesticated form is not mentioned in the Old Testament.

It is said that some of the pagan tribes living at the present time on the east coast of Africa have a marked aversion to the domestic fowl. This may account for the absence of any representation of the fowl on the ancient Egyptian monuments, though it was represented on the Babylonian cylinders about the sixth or seventh century before Christ. In this connection it should be mentioned that many other people, notably the natives of the islands adjacent to the Australian continent and some of the Indian tribes of South America, show a strong dislike to this domestic bird as a food.

By selection, both natural and by man, many breeds have been produced. Dr. Charles Darwin says: "Sufficient materials do not exist for tracing the history of the separate breeds. About the commencement of the Christian era, Columella mentions a five-toed fighting breed, and provincial breeds; but we know nothing about them. He also alludes to dwarf fowls; but these cannot have been the same with our Bantams, which were imported from Japan into Bantam in Java. A dwarf fowl, probably the true Bantam, is referred to in an old Japanese Encyclopedia, as I am informed. In the Chinese Encyclopedia published in 1596, but compiled from various sources, some of high antiquity, seven breeds are mentioned."

The number of breeds is very indefinite. Darwin enumerates thirteen, including many sub-breeds. The American Poultry Association recognizes more than thirty, with several varieties of some of them. The game or fighting breed more closely resembles the wild form of India than do any of the others.

The Japanese, so noted for their wonderful development of dwarfed trees, are also the originators of the smallest fowls--the Bantams. Another interesting breed is called "Jumpers" or "Creepers." Their legs are so short that they are compelled to move by jumping.

The wild hen lays from eight to twelve white eggs in nests, seldom of better construction than a few dried leaves or grass scratched together in a secluded spot. It is said that "to every hen belongs an individual peculiarity in the form, color, and size of her egg, which never changes during her life-time, so long as she remains in health, and which is as well known to those who are in the habit of taking her produce, as the hand-writing of their nearest acquaintance." We are told that the tame hen raises a brood of physically stronger offspring when allowed to select her own nesting place in some locality with natural surroundings.

The wild and the tame fowl alike eat a variety of foods, both animal and vegetable, but prefer the latter.

With reference to the habits and characteristics of this interesting domestic bird of our farm yards and orchards no words can describe them more aptly than those so delightfully written by Gail Hamilton, when she says:

"A chicken is beautiful and round and full of cunning ways, but he
has no resources for an emergency. He will lose his reckoning and
be quite out at sea, though only ten steps from home. He never
knows enough to turn a corner. All his intelligence is like light,
moving only in straight lines. He is impetuous and timid, and has
not the smallest presence of mind or sagacity to discern between
friend and foe. He has no confidence in any earthly power that
does not reside in an old hen. Her cluck will be followed to the
last ditch, and to nothing else will he give heed.

I am afraid that the Interpreter was putting almost too fine
a point upon it, when he had Christiana and her children into
another room where was a hen and chickens, and bid them observe
awhile. So one of the chickens went to a trough to drink, and
every time she drank she lifted up her head and her eyes toward
heaven. 'See,' said he, 'what this little chick doth, and learn
of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come, by receiving them
with looking up.'

Doubtless the chick lifts her eyes toward heaven, but a close
acquaintance with the race would put anything but acknowledgment
in the act. A gratitude that thanks heaven for favors received,
and then runs into a hole to prevent any other person from sharing
the benefit of these favors, is a very questionable kind of
gratitude, and certainly should be confined to the bipeds that
wear feathers.

Yet if you take away selfishness from a chicken's moral make-up,
and fatuity from his intellectual, you have a very charming
creature left. For, apart from their excessive greed, chickens
seem to be affectionate. They have sweet, social ways.

They huddle together with fond, caressing chatter, and chirp soft
lullabies. Their toilet performances are full of interest. They
trim each other's bills with great thoroughness and dexterity,
much better, indeed, than they dress their own heads, for their
bungling, awkward little claws make sad work of it.

It is as much as they can do to stand on two feet, and they
naturally make several revolutions when they attempt to stand on
one. Nothing can be more ludicrous than their early efforts to
walk. They do not really walk. They sight their object, waver,
balance, decide, and then tumble forward, stopping all in a heap
as soon as the original impetus is lost--generally some way ahead
of the place to which they wished to go.

It is delightful to watch them as drowsiness films their round,
bright, black eyes, and the dear old mother croons them under her
ample wings, and they nestle in perfect harmony. How they manage
to bestow themselves with such limited accommodations, or how they
manage to breathe in a room so close, it is difficult to imagine.
They certainly deal a staggering blow to our preconceived notions
of the necessity of oxygen and ventilation, but they make it easy
to see whence the Germans derived their fashion of sleeping under
feather beds. But breathe and bestow themselves they do. The deep
mother breast and the broad mother wings take them all in.

They penetrate her feathers, and open for themselves unseen little
doors into the mysterious, brooding, beckoning darkness. But it
is long before they can arrange themselves satisfactorily. They
chirp, and stir, and snuggle, trying to find the softest and
warmest nook. Now, an uneasy head is thrust out, and now a whole
tiny body; but it soon re-enters in another quarter, and at length
the stir and chirp grows still. You see only a collection of
little legs, as if the hen were a banyan tree, and presently even
they disappear. She settles down comfortably and all are wrapped
in a slumberous silence.

And as I sit by the hour, watching their winning ways, and see
all the steps of this sleepy subsidence, I can but remember that
outburst of love and sorrow from the lips of Him who, though He
came to earth from a dwelling place of ineffable glory, called
nothing unclean because it was common, found no homely detail
too homely or too trivial to illustrate the Father's love; but
from the birds of the air, the fish of the sea, the lilies of
the field, the stones in the street, the foxes in their holes,
the patch on the coat, the oxen in the furrow, the sheep in the
pit, the camel under his burden, drew lessons of divine pity and
patience, of heavenly duty and delight."

BOB WHITE.

Who's whistling so cheerfully down in the clover,
When the meadows are wet with the sweet morning dew?
He's piping and calling, this ardent young lover,
And telling his tale the whole morning through,
What is it he says in the early sunlight?
"Bob White! Bob White!
Bob--Bob White!"

At noon, when the day god in wrath has descended,
With his swift golden arrows, on grain-field and hill;
And the birds of the morning their love songs have ended,
Then deep in the wood, and down by the rill
I hear a shrill whistle, so cheerful and bright:
"Wheat ripe? Bob White!
Not--not quite!"

When shadows of evening are lengthening slowly,
Ere the night dews lie damp on the meadows again;
As light breezes sweep o'er the soft grass so lowly,
What is it he says? I hear the refrain,
While in the thick verdure he's hid from my sight:
"Good night! Bob White!
Good--good night."
Effie L. Hallett.

* * * * *

It might almost be said that the birds are all birds of the poets and of no one else, because it is only the poetical temperament that fully responds to them. So true is this, that all the great ornithologists--original namers and biographers of the birds--have been poets in deed if not in word. Audubon is a notable case in point, who, if he had not the tongue or pen of the poet, certainly had the eye and ear and heart and the singleness of purpose, the enthusiasm, the unworldliness, the love, that characterize the true and divine race of bards.

The very idea of a bird is a symbol and a suggestion to the poet. A bird seems to be at the top of the scale, so vehement and intense is his life--large-brained, large-lunged, hot, ecstatic, his frame charged with buoyancy and his heart with song. The beautiful vagabonds, endowed with every grace, masters of all chimes, and knowing no bounds--how many human aspirations are realized in their free, holiday lives, and how many suggestions to the poet in their flight and song! John Burroughs in "Birds and Poets."

THE RAINBOW TROUT.

(_Salmo irideus_.)

The rainbow trout is a native of the mountain streams and lakes of the Pacific coast, ranging from the coast of Washington to San Diego, California. It was first made known to science in 1855 by Dr. Gibbons from specimens taken from Leander Creek, California. It is an extremely variable species, varying greatly in size, color, activity, etc. Those found near the sea spend much of their time in salt water, where living is easier and as a result they grow larger, lose their bright color and much of their activity. They usually return to fresh water with the salmon to feast upon their eggs.

The following are the most important varieties of the Rainbow Trout: The Brook Trout of Western Oregon, which is abundant in the streams of the Coast Range from Puget Sound to Southern California. Those taken in the headwaters of these streams seldom exceed a pound in weight, while those taken from brackish water, having spent considerable time in the sea, usually weigh from one to five pounds. The McCloud River Trout is abundant in streams of the Sierra Nevada Mountains from Mt. Shasta southward. It grows to a large size, reaching, in the larger and warmer bodies of water, a weight of ten to fourteen pounds. This variety is the Rainbow Trout of the fish culturists. It has been planted in many of our eastern streams, where it has become more or less abundant.

The Kern River Trout is known only from the Kern River in California. It often reaches a weight of eight pounds. The No-Shee Trout inhabits the Sacramento basin; it often reaches a weight of twelve pounds. The Golden Trout of Mount Whitney inhabits the streams on both sides of Mount Whitney, California.

The varieties mentioned here are usually recognized by students of fishes, but the angler sees many more varieties in different localities, and has given to them other names, as Red Sides, Mountain Trout, Brook Trout, etc. The Rainbow Trout, when taken from clear, cool water, is an extremely handsome fish. It is usually bluish in the upper part of the body; sides silvery; the body is everywhere covered with small, dark spots irregularly arranged, and extending on the fins. The side is usually provided with a red band which extends on the sides of the head. There is usually a dash of red under the chin. As soon as the fish is taken from the water its color changes. The red lateral band will pass through different shades of red, from a deep dark color to light crimson. The captured fish thus gives its captor a display of bright color superior to that possessed by any other fresh water fish.

The Rainbow Trout is quite as handsome as the Eastern Brook Trout and affords the angler an equal amount of sport. Those found in swift mountain streams are strong swimmers. To capture them with the rod the angler must display the highest skill possible. The same tactics which will catch a Rainbow Trout in one stream may fail in the next or even a second time in the same stream. It matters not in what mountain stream you fish the trout you catch are always superior to those you have previously taken in other streams.

The food of the Rainbow Trout is made up largely of worms, crustacea, insect larvae and the like. In the fall those in salmon streams feast on salmon eggs. During the spawning time of the salmon the trout in the ocean return to fresh water and accompany the salmon to their spawning beds. Many persons who catch them for table use do so with hooks baited with salmon eggs. Often salmon eggs are salted and dried and thus retained as bait for the entire year. No other bait seems so tempting to the Rainbow Trout. The sea run individuals are not so brightly colored as those which always remain in fresh water. On their return to fresh water they seem to have lost none of their game qualities. As a table fish they are not inferior to any fish taken in fresh water.

The size of the Rainbow Trout depends upon its surroundings, the volume and temperature of the water and the amount of food it contains. They vary from the mere fingerlings found in small mountain brooks to those from ten to fourteen pounds, as found in Klamath and other similar lakes. The Rainbow Trout will live in warmer and more sluggish water than the Brook Trout, and for this reason it is being planted in many streams in the east, which are unsuitable for the Brook Trout. It is also being planted in many streams once inhabited by the Brook Trout, but because of the change due to civilization have become unsuitable for them. Rainbow Trout can now be found in many streams of the Allegheny region, in streams in Michigan, in the Ozark region and in many streams of the Western States. The Rainbow Trout is a superior game fish. It is a vigorous biter, and fights bravely for liberty. In no respects is it inferior to the Eastern Brook Trout.

The method of hatching Rainbow Trout is very interesting. At government hatching stations a large number of males and females are kept in ponds for breeding purposes. When ready to spawn the eggs are easily taken from the female by gently pressing on the ventral surface of the body. After fertilizing them with milt taken in a similar way from the male they are placed in wire trays in wooden troughs through which there is flowing a current of water. In water of 50 degrees F. the eggs will hatch in from forty-two to forty-five days. A female weighing one-half to one and one-half pounds will yield from five hundred to eight hundred eggs. One from two to four pounds, two thousand five hundred to three thousand eggs. When the eggs are partly hatched they may be carefully placed in trays and kept free from injury, and packed in ice and sent to any part of the country. In this way they are often sent across the continent, also to Europe, Brazil and Japan. The cool temperature stops the hatching, which will begin again as soon as placed in water of suitable temperature. The fact that so many eggs can be taken from one female and a very large per cent (eighty-five per cent or more) hatched makes it possible to plant, in suitable streams, a large number of young fish each year. If the eggs were deposited in the stream by the fishes themselves the greater number would be eaten by young fishes, crustaceans, insects, etc. Here is a case where man is able to assist mother nature, and to preserve and widely distribute some of our most useful fishes. The Rainbow Trout is receiving much attention and yielding profitable returns. It will always give the angler an opportunity to display his highest skill, and afford a fair recompense for the toil of fishery. Seth E. Meek.

DAY AND NIGHT.

Day is a snow-white dove of heaven,
That from the east glad message brings:
Night is a stealthy, evil raven,
Wrapped to the eyes in his black wings.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich.

THE GEOLOGICAL SUCCESSION OF FISHES.

In discussing this subject it will be necessary to say something about the geological history of the earth. Each geological age had its own peculiar fauna, and to write about any part of it means that we must know something about the particular geological age in which the animals under consideration flourished, and something of the earth's previous history.

The earth is supposed to be a small, condensed portion of the gaseous material which astronomers tell us at one time pervaded all space. The heat given off when the gas was condensing has been largely converted into mechanical energy which makes the earth revolve once in twenty-four hours and sends it flying through space. As soon as the earth decreased to about its present size and became cool enough for water to be condensed on its surface, it began to write its own history. Its entire surface may have at one time been covered to a uniform depth by water. If such was ever the case it did not remain so long. The interior of the earth was very hot and the crust cooled very irregularly and portions of it rose above the surface of the water. Since then there have been two antagonizing forces at work. The heat has caused the earth's surface to become irregular and the water has made a strong effort, which has been partially successful, to reduce all irregularities to the same level. We do not know how long these forces nearly balanced each other, but sooner or later dry land appeared in many places on the earth's surface. This was for a long period of time washed by heavy rains while the shores for some distance seaward were worn away by action of the tidal waves. Much of the land area then sank below sea level, and became covered with sand, gravel and the like. The portion which remained above the level is called the Archaean. Later a general elevation of the land area brought above sea level much of this land and gravel, forming around the Archaean an increased land era, which we call Silurian. The time when the sand and gravel was deposited forming this land is known as the Silurian age. Following this came the Devonian age. After this in the following order came the following geological ages: Carboniferous, Triassic, Jurassic, Cretaceous, Tertiary, Quaternary and then the present or Recent age, the one in which we now live. Each of these ages is characterized by the peculiar animals which then predominated, and these animals are known only from their remains imbedded in the rocks as fossils.

It may not be out of place here to mention that rocks are usually placed in two great classes, those which have been subject to great heat, melted, or partly so, at one time, then cooled and hardened are called metamorphic or igneous rocks. To these belong such rocks as our granites. Those which have not been changed by heat are called sedimentary rocks, such as sandstones, limestones, etc. In the former class we find no fossils. If fossils ever existed there, the fusing of the rocks has destroyed them. Sedimentary rocks contain many fossils. The Archaean area contains no sedimentary rocks, hence no fossils. Between the close of the Archaean and beginning of the Silurian is a long interval of which we know nothing. If any rocks were formed during this interval they are in no place exposed to the surface of the earth as are portions of all other formations. Life evidently existed then, for at the close of this interval or rather at the beginning of the Silurian we find a large number of Invertebrates. There were corals, crinoids, brachiopods, lamellibranches, gasteropods, cephalopods, worms and crustaceans. All of these animals flourished during the Silurian.

It was during the latter part of the Silurian that fishes first made their appearance. If they lived earlier than this they were of low organization and possessed no hard parts, and when they died they would entirely decay, leaving nothing to be preserved as fossils. Of course, no one lived then to give fishes easy common names, and so we only know them by the long, hard scientific names given by scientific men. These we will use as little as possible in this article. In classifying fishes they fall into a few large groups, as follows: The lowest fish in point of structure is the lancelet, a small, semi-transparent animal, with no hard parts, as teeth, spines or bones. We would not expect it to be preserved as a fossil and so we find none. The next group contains our lampreys and hag fishes. These are parasites. They vary in length from a few inches to more than three feet. With a mouth nearly circular they attach themselves to other fishes and feast upon their blood. The hag fish eats its way into the fish and remains there until its host is a living hulk of skin and bones. Fishes known as Pteraspids, thought by some scientists to belong to this group, are found in the upper part of the Silurian. The lampreys of the present day have no very hard teeth and their backbone is simply very soft cartilage. These ancient lampreys, called Pteraspids, had the head and part of the body covered with a coat of mail. Of these there flourished in the last days of the Silurian quite a number of species. The next group of fishes are the sharks, the most blood-thirsty of all the inhabitants of the sea. Sharks flourished to some extent in the upper part of the Silurian. The shark has no true bones and its covering consists of shagreen tentacles. It is provided with hard teeth and the dorsal fins of the ancient shark were provided each with a hard, stout spine. The teeth were large, flat and fit for crushing. We know these ancient sharks only by the spines, shagreen tentacles and the teeth. These, however, furnished abundant evidence that the sharks in the upper Silurian were numerous as to individuals and species. The Chimera, a fish much resembling the sharks, was also abundant in the upper Silurian. A group of fishes usually known as ganoids and which comprise the lung fishes of the Nile, of Australia, the garpikes of North America and the sturgeons, were very abundant during the closing days of the Silurian. The fishes of this group are especially well preserved as fossils, their covering consisted of bony plates or bucklers or of scales covered with a coat of enamel. Their outer covering was well suited to become fossilized, and so we know this group much better than we do any other found in the Silurian.

The next and last group of fishes is known as Teleosts, or bony fishes. To this group belong our typical fishes, such as black bass, sun fishes, suckers, cat fishes and the like. None of this group lived during the Silurian.

Following the Silurian came the Devonian, which is called the age of fishes. In no time in the world's history have fishes been so large and so abundant as during this age. They outclassed in every respect all other animals. The same general types flourished as those which existed in the latter part of the Silurian. There were more species and more individuals and some grew to an enormous size. Fishes ruled the Devonian seas. The crustaceans, such as trilobites which greatly predominated during the Silurian age, diminished greatly during the Devonian. In the struggle for existence they decreased in size and in numbers, and were obliged to seek safety in less favorable places. The Devonian fishes were largely sharks and ganoids, especially the latter. These were covered, with hard, enamel-coated scales or bony plates. Some were short and heavy and entirely encased in a covering of large bony plates. They were evidently anything but pretty and their movements in the water must have been extremely awkward. Others were formed much after our own ideas of fishes. These bore much resemblance to our garpikes, the lung fish of the Nile and the lung fish of Australia, and the worthless dog fish of our own fresh waters. Anglers and fishermen all despise these fishes now, yet in Devonian times the fishes most nearly like them were evidently the most handsome and graceful of all fishes then living. It appears as if fishes in those days did not fight each other. They found abundant sea room and plenty of food in the form of invertebrates. Of course it is quite probable that many fish-like animals existed at this time, but possessing no hard parts and were not preserved as fossils; these could not become at all important for the sea was too full of large animals of all classes which were so well protected with a coat of mail and so hostile that those less favorably situated could not exist in any great numbers. At the close of the Devonian many changes took place. The rocks of this formation, which now form a portion of the earth's surface, rose out of the water, the land area thus considerably increased, the seasons, such as they were then, became more marked; many inland seas were formed. These changes were more or less gradual, but not so much so that the fishes living then could not suit themselves to the new conditions. Those fishes which had flourished for generations had become accustomed to easy living and certain fixed ways, could not adapt themselves to changing conditions, and so became extinct. The Pteraspids, the earliest forms to appear; the Pterichthys, in fact, all forms which bear any resemblance to our present lampreys, or which may prove a close relative of the earlier ganoids, became extinct at close of the Devonian. The early Chimeras which flourished from close of Silurian also became extinct. Many ganoids became extinct, but other ganoids came into existence to take their places. The ganoids most nearly like our modern sturgeons increased during the last of the Devonian and retained their prominence to the close of the Carboniferous. The slow-moving, heavily plated ganoids passed away. They ruled during the Devonian age, but could not suit themselves to the new conditions at beginning of the Carboniferous. While fishes were numerous and large in the Devonian, throughout the Carboniferous they began to decline. By this time the land area had much increased, land plants became very abundant, there were immense forests of tropical vegetation, great swamps and peat bogs--all of which later sank below sea level--became covered up and changed into coal. Immense lizards lived in these forests and along the sea shores; these were the first land animals. At the close of the Carboniferous great changes took place; greater changes than at any time since the close of the Archaean. So marked were the changes at this time that it marks a new era in the geological history of the earth. All preceding the close of the Carboniferous is regarded as ancient geology; all since then as modern geology. It was at this time that plants and animals were represented by new forms more like those now living. The geological age following the Carboniferous is the Triassic. With this age began our modern sharks and fishes. They did not become abundant until the Jurassic and Cretaceous. All of the earlier sharks had strong spines in front of each dorsal fin and broad teeth made for crushing. One form of these known as Cestracionts were very abundant till the end of the Cretaceous. In the early Triassic they began to decline and the sharks, with pointed teeth, increased. These sharks, with pointed teeth, but rounded on the edges, commenced back in the Carboniferous. During the Triassic the sharks, with lancet-shaped teeth, such as are now possessed by nearly all our sharks, commenced in small numbers. One of the important differences between the ganoids and the teleosts or true fishes is in the tail vertebrae. In the ganoids the tail vertebrae decrease gradually in size and curve upwards in the upper lobe of the tail. In the teleosts the tail vertebrae ends a short distance in front of ends of the middle fin rays of the tail fin. In the ganoids the upper lobe of the tail fin is the largest. In the teleosts both lobes are nearly the same size. The tail of the ganoid fish is called heterocercal, that of our modern or teleost fishes is homocercal. The tail of all early ganoids was strongly heterocercal. In the Triassic and Jurassic its lobes in many cases became nearly equal, approaching the homocercal tail. The tails of all sharks are heterocercal, of all modern fishes it is homocercal except in a few families, as the cod and related fishes, it is Isocercal; that is, the vertebrae decrease in size, but do not form an upward curve. So far as we know the Shad family is the first of our teleosts or true fishes to appear, and these were quite abundant in the early part of the Triassic.

The rays, fish-like animals much like Sharks, but with the body and fins flattened or spread out in a broad flat disc, appeared in the Jurassic. The Chimeras, so abundant in the Devonian and which died out apparently at the close of the Devonian, also reappeared at the beginning of the Jurassic. These did not belong to the same families as did the more ancient Chimeras. The Chimeras no doubt flourished in the Carboniferous and Triassic, but migrated to some portion of the sea where now perhaps their remains lie buried in rocks below the bottom of the sea. Their survivors, which were able to modify their structure and habits to become suited to new conditions, returned in modified forms in the Jurassic, where in time their remains come to the surface as fossils.

At the end of the Cretaceous or beginning of the Tertiary we find all of our modern types of sharks and all of the important orders of teleosts. The sturgeons and ganoids decreased throughout the Tertiary or Quaternary until at present we have but few living species. The sturgeons are the more abundant. Of the large group of Ganoids so abundant during all these geological ages but few forms are living to-day. These are the Ceratodus, lung fish of Australia; the Polypterus of the Nile, the Protopterus of Western Africa, the Dogfish and the three Garpike of North America. These few species are but the remnants of a once large and extensive group of fishes.

In the study of fishes we notice that some are highly specialized so far as their structures are concerned; the teeth of some become especially fitted for a peculiar kind of food, and as a result quite unfit for any other kind. Some, to be protected from their enemies, develop a heavy armor, which only retards their activity. Other fishes are more generalized; that is, are of medium size, omnivorous habits, are not hampered in their movements by a too heavy coat of mail, etc. When any change of conditions came to modify their habits of living the specialized were always the first to disappear. Being particularly fitted for one mode of life made them all the more unfitted for any other, and so when conditions changed they perished. All of our modern fishes except the few ganoids are more or less specialized. The trout lives in cool running water and some varieties can live in no other, while some fishes have become accustomed to warm, stagnant water and cannot live with the trout. What is true in this respect of fishes is true of land animals as well. The large, ponderous, slow-moving reptiles of the Triassic, Jurassic and the Cretaceous, and the large mammals of the Tertiary and Quarternary could not exist except under the peculiar conditions of that time, and sooner or later had to give way to the smaller, more active and more resourceful animals of their class.

In tracing the history of fishes from their earliest existence to the present one is struck with the myriad forms he finds. It would seem that all possible effort was made by them to modify their structure to suit their environment; when this changed all their efforts came to naught, and they were destined to give way to the more favored kinds. Seth E. Meek.

THE DEEP.

There's beauty in the deep--
The wave is bluer than the sky;
And, though the light shine bright on high,
More softly do the sea-gems glow
That sparkle in the depths below;
The rainbow's tints are only made
When on the waters they are laid,
And sun and moon most sweetly shine
Upon the ocean's level brine.
There's beauty in the deep.

There's music in the deep--
It is not in the surf's rough roar,
Nor in the whispering, shelly shore--
They are but earthly sounds, that tell
How little of the sea-nymph's shell,
That sends its loud, clear note abroad,
Or winds its softness through the flood,
Echoes through groves with coral gay,
And dies, on spongy banks, away.
There's music in the deep.

There's quiet in the deep--
Above let tides and tempests rave,
And earth-born whirlwinds wake the wave;
Above let care and fear contend,
With sin and sorrow to the end.
Here, far beneath the tainted foam,
That frets above our peaceful home,
We dream in joy, and wake in love,
Nor know the rage that yells above.
There's quiet in the deep.
John G. C. Brainard.

THE AMERICAN REDSTART.

(_Setophaga ruticilla._)

Contemporaneous with the blossoming out of the wild plum, the early Richmond cherry and a rich and diversified profusion of woodland flowers, perhaps better exemplified on this occasion by such interesting types as the little Claytonia, or spring-beauty, the rue-anemone and the trilliums, both T. erectum and grandiflorum, with perhaps a few belated blossoms of the hepatica, is the advent of this interesting little bird among us, which here in Northeastern Illinois usually plans its arrival somewhere near the closing days of the first week in May.

Its generic name, Setophaga, interpreted into plainer English, means a devourer of insects, and, were we to select from among the large and varied assortment of birds comprising the bulk of our warbler hosts a form most elegant and expressive of gayety, sprightliness, and, in a measure, frivolity, we could not go far wrong in determining upon this species so easily outclassing all others as the most brilliantly colored member of that numerously large and interesting family, the Mniotiltidae.

At first a creeper and sharp-eyed inspector of hidden crannies, we afterwards discern no less in him, and upon the slightest provocation, a tyrant on the wing, thereby proving a general adaptability to and utility in his calling at all stages of the game--a constant warfare directed against the insect horde to which he devotes himself most assiduously at all times, and it is really astonishing the amount of the minute forms of insect life these little birds will consume. So then, what at first may appear to us as clever acts of trifling weight will, upon closer inspection, prove carefully executed movements planned and carried out with the greatest precision.

Among ornithologists we find it classed as an interesting member of the group of fly-catching warblers. Equally suggestive to the mind of the writer would be the name of the fan-tailed warbler, derived from its well-known habit of carrying the tail slightly elevated and partly spread.

To those who may be on the lookout for just such marked characteristics among our birds this one feature alone will serve as an excellent index in determining its proper identification.

The plainer and grayer markings of the female and immature birds may differ very considerably from the more pronounced black and white, orange-red and salmon-colored blotches of the adult male, but never so strikingly manifesting themselves in the markings of the tail which in either case may appear to the casual observer as quite similar.

Yet if we examine them more critically we will discover that they are distinctly different, the salmon-red and black-tipped feathers of the male bird being replaced by a paler reddish-yellow and grayer-tipped arrangement in the case of the female. Young males have the darker markings of the tail feathers very similar to those of the adult birds, which we are told do not take on the complete dress until the third year. But the habit of constantly flitting the tail in fan-like motions is peculiar alike to all phases of this bird's plumage and above all other characters serves as the greatest aid in naming it.

The very young, or nestling dress, of which little or nothing seems to have been written, bears a partial resemblance to that of the female bird, excepting that the wings are crossed by two yellowish bands, caused by the lighter tippings of the outer coverts. The yellow breast spots of the female are also wanting in this dress.

For further particulars the reader is kindly referred to the colored plate accompanying this article.

Like the robin red-breasts, the name of the Redstart seems to have been brought to America by the earlier settlers who were ever on the watch for familiar objects to remind them of former days, and, as in the case of the example just cited, wrongfully ascribed by them to a far different bird. An analogy, however, exists in the coloration of the European and American birds justifying in a measure the reason for so naming it.

We are told, in Newton's Dictionary of Birds, that the Redstart, the Ruticilla phoenicurus of most ornithologists, is well known in Great Britain, where it is also called the Fire-tail, from the word "start" which in the original Anglo-Saxon "steort," means tail. But the English bird is very different from ours throughout, a marked distinction being its peculiarity of habit in seeking out for a nesting site a hole in a tree or ruined building.

Our bird, contrary to all this, more correctly builds its nest out of doors, usually selecting the upright forks of some tall shrub or small tree and placing therein a neat, compact structure, in which four or five light-colored eggs are deposited that in their spotted appearance and blotching of various shades of brown resemble very closely the eggs of the common yellow warbler (Dendroica aestiva).

But for all this, however, it repairs to the shadier depths of the woods while the yellow warbler on the other hand seeks out the more tangled thickets and willow copses.

The song of the Redstart, too, bears in a striking degree a very close resemblance to that of this same yellow warbler, though, as in the case of the nest, the localities frequented by it serve readily in making a distinction. "In general tone and quality," as Prof. Lynds Jones has remarked in No. 30 of the Wilson Bulletin, "Warbler Songs," "there is a strong resemblance to the Yellow, but the range of variation is greater and the song distinctly belongs to the 'ringing aisles' of the woods." "The common utterance can be recalled by che, che, che, che--pa, the last syllable abruptly falling and weakening." "A soft song is like wee-see, wee-see-wee, with a suggestion at least of a lower pitch for the last syllable."

The range of the American Redstart is quite extended, including, as we may say, all of North America, though it is very rare and irregular in the States west of the Sierras. It is said to breed from Kansas northward.