evening gives promise
of a fine day on the
morrow. Unlike the
missel-thrush, the
blackbird has no fond-
ness for wild, wintry
weather. With him,
singingislargely,
though not entirely, a
matter of temperature,
and he loves the sun.
But he is much more
of a sentimentalist
A young Missel-thrush never loses touch with his parents and than . either of his
the family throughout the summer, even when another brood cousins, and that is
is being launched on the world. Family parties continue to why, perhaps, he pre-
meet on the feeding grounds, until the inevitable separation of f ers to save ^is song
until the bustle of the
it. He is an early-nesting bird, and once day is over and the stillness of evening
the young are hatched, devotes himself so provides a more fitting accompaniment to
attentively to domestic matters that he has the emotion of his soul. Serenity is the
but little time for singing. When, however, thing that most appeals to his feelings so
a few weeks later, he once more takes his much so that even though the air strike
perch upon the tree-top and sings aloud, chilly, his buoyant spirit seems as though
it is a sure sign that another family of it must respond when all around is fair,
missel-thrushes is launched into the world. That is in the early days of the year at
That is not to say that he and his mate wash such times when stern January or fickle
their hands of their offspring as soon as February may be in relenting mood ; or in
the latter are able to shift for themselves. March, when that often boisterous month
The whole family keeps in touch all through forgets its anger and gives us a day of which
548
Photo: Stanley Crouk.
WONDERS OF BIRD LIFE
even May might well be proud. Later on,
when the sun has gained real power, and the
wind blows softly from the west or south,
the blackbird is at last in his element, and
day after day will whistle merrily from one
of his favourite perches until dusk begins
to fall. He is not a really late singer like the
thrush, nor is he so fond of high places.
Now and again, when in exuberant mood,
he will select a point of vantage on the house-
top, but more commonly he prefers to
remain hidden in the seclusion of some
evergreen tree or bush where he can see
without being seen. He is for ever a sus-
picious bird, and his nerves are easily upset,
as may be known when with loud cries of
alarm he scurries from bush to bush a
sure sign that Grimalkin or some other
soft-footed prowler is abroad.
The Blackbird's Song
As in the case of the nightingale and all
other birds noted for their song, the ex-
cellence of the blackbird's singing depends
much on the individual. Some are real
artists, others can never aspire to concert
standard. The song-thrush may claim to
a more varied repertoire, but when it comes
to quality of tone and expression, it is the
blackbird that bears the palm. His notes
are much more mellow, and he sings in a
lower and more tuneful key. The thrush,
like the exuberant butcher-boy, sometimes
allows himself to whistle in too shrill a key,
but the blackbird rarely descends to such
vulgarity. His smooth and well-rounded
notes are more reminiscent of the skilled
and perfectly-trained performer. One need
have no more than a smattering of musical
knowledge to appreciate the better quality
and the more pleasing expression of the
blackbird's song. For all that, it is apt to
be eccentric and almost surprising at times.
Some peculiar characteristic of this kind is
often to be noticed in a particular bird, so
that it is impossible to mistake it for any
other. The song ends abruptly, or breaks
off in such a manner as one would least
expect. The blackbird, unlike its cousins,
is also something of a mimic, and even in
the wild state will learn to imitate a human
whistle or some sound that it is in the habit
of hearing. A wild blackbird which the
writer knew quite intimately some years ago
could reproduce to perfection the first line
of " Here we go round the mulberry bush,"
though whether he did this by accident or
design cannot be said. Another, which
stayed about the garden for several years,
so closely copied the family whistle of three
notes that one or other of us frequently
answered him in the belief that some other
member of the family was calling.
The different songs of song- thrush,
blackbird and missel-thrush, which are
familiar enough to the practised ear to be
readily recognized, are not so easily identi-
fied by the ordinary observer, but there is
little difficulty once the chief points have
been mastered. The song-thrush always
repeats himself, uttering usually from one
to four separate notes in quick succession,
and repeating those notes rapidly three 01*
four times. After a short interval he changes
to another set of notes, repeating these again
a few times, and so on. He may ring the
changes several times before he comes back
to the set he began with, and his voice is
usually pitched in a high key. The black-
bird, on the other hand, whistles a complete
set of notes perhaps six or eight at a stretch
at a much more leisurely pace, and allows
a considerable interval to elapse before he
begins again. He may then repeat the same
set, though invariably with slight variation.
More often, however, he will select a different
set altogether though about the same in
number after which he will be silent again
for an appreciable space of time. So he
goes on, eventually returning to his original
selection, which in the case of a poor per-
former may be the foundation of his whole
repertoire.
How the Missel-thrush Sings
The theme of the missel-thrush's song
is much the same as that of the blackbird,
though with shorter intervals between each
snatch for his is a wilder and more abrupt
delivery in most cases. Nor has he any
such good idea of putting his notes together
or finishing them off in such pleasing
fashion. He starts off bravely enough, but
has a habit of breaking off suddenly as if
he had made a mistake ; and then, after
waiting a little, has another try. Like the
blackbird, he usually varies his song each
time, and never, like the song- thrush, re-
peats a few notes in quick succession. His
song, in fact, is careless and happy-go-lucky
549
THE PAGEAttT OF NATURE
all through, but he is so evidently enjoying
himself all the time that the effect, if wild
and sometimes harsh, is none the less cheer-
ing. His song, too, is all the more welcome
in that it is so often to be heard when other
birds are silent.
All the more extraordinary is it, therefore,
that the missel-thrush should so often have
been declared to have no song even by
those who have given a certain amount of
study to birds in general. One can only
suppose that such persons are unable to
distinguish between the song of the storm-
cock and that of the common thrush. Or is
it that they confuse the refrain of the former
with the blackbird's much more melodious
tones ? In either case it is difficult to under-
stand, yet it is no easy matter to convince
any one of these disbelievers that he is
wrong. The time-honoured nickname of
the missel-thrush should alone be sufficient
to convince the most sceptical not only that
he sings, but that his merry accents are not
to be overridden even by the wildest storms
of many- weathered March.
Both song-thrush and blackbird are to be
reckoned useful birds in the garden, despite
the fact that each of them has a weakness
for fruit in season. This latter desire,
however, is much more marked in the birds
of the year, to whom this kind of diet seems
to be a greater necessity than to the older
generation. Every gardener should find it
in his heart, none the less, to overlook these
little peccadilloes, for during the greater
part of the year the thrush and the blackbird
are his most devoted helpers. The former
especially is the active enemy of the snail.
The blackbird is not so ardent a snail-
hunter, but, like his cousin, is for ever in
search of insect fare. He will devour
grubs and caterpillars and the larvae of
every garden pest as well as the more or less
inoffensive earth-worm whose worst crime
is that he makes the lawn unsightly with
his " casts." The missel -thrush, too, is a
bird of value to mankind. He does not
worry the gardener much, though he will
sometimes strip the mountain ash of its
ruddy harvest all too soon ; nor is he so
fond of seeking his insect fare in the garden
as in the meadow or the field. In the latter
places he does much good work for the
farmer in ridding the soil of various pests.
Photo: y. T. Newman.
Serenity is the quality that appeals most to the Blackbird's feelings, and it is shared
by parent and brood alike. These four young Blackbirds completely suggest this
characteristic.
55
Wild Flowers and Their Ways
10.-PLANTS AND THE WEATHER
By G. CLARKE NUTTALL, B.Sc.
With photographs by the Author
PLANTS have to reckon with the
vagaries of the weather just as we
do, and a sudden downpour of rain
may be as disconcerting to their plans as it
often is to ours. Chiefly their need is to
guard the delicate stamens and their con-
tents, the fertilizing pollen which frequently
takes the form of fine floury dust and which
would be utterly destroyed if the flowers
became waterlogged. So
we find that the plants
have made all kinds of
plans whereby injury due
to the weather by which
we mean bad weather
may be avoided. It is
true that some plants,
like some people, appear
not to mind adverse con-
ditions, or perhaps they
merely " chance it," and
are philosophical if the
odds turn against them :
but the majority keep
their " weather eye " open
and guard their pollen by
precautions which range
from permanent shelter-
ing to temporary ex-
pedients ; and, through-
out, the precautions taken
against rain apply also to
nightfall with its possible
heavy dews.
Among the first set of
flowers, namely those
that provide permanent
shelter, we have all such
hanging bells as wild
hyacinth, foxgloves,
heather and the like. The
rain pattering down falls
quite harmlessly upon
In hanging flowers such as the
Foxglove, the stamens are always
under shelter and dry. Rain pours
harmlessly off the outside of the
bells.
the outside of the bell, and all within is so
dry and snug that many a little insect tramp
takes refuge there on a cold wet night. It
is worth noting here in how many cases, as
for example the snowdrop, the bud stands
upright, the full-blown flower bows its head,
while the fruit is again erect. The rain
cannot hurt the closed bud or the seed
capsule, but it would injure an upright
flower, hence the varying
attitudes.
Other flowers are im-
mune from hurt because
they are closed boxes ;
such are the snapdragon
and the toad-flax which
no rain can possibly
penetrate; while yet
others provide a porch
overhead to keep the
stamens dry. Such a
porch we see in the dead
nettle the black stamen
heads being well under
the white awning and
in this case shelter is
doubly secured because
the leaves also stretch
out and shield the blos-
soms, as the photograph
shows ; indeed, there are
a vast number of these
two-lipped or " labiate "
flowers that follow this
method of protection
the thyme, sage, and
common hedge stachys
may be instanced. Then
there are flowers such
as the primrose which,
though they always turn
a bright face to all
weathers, yet set a guard
THE PRGEKttT OF NATURE
by narrowing the lower part of their petals
into a tube in which the stamens are
hidden, and this often further protected
by hairs at the top is practically rainproof.
But these permanent and immovable
forms of protection do not appeal to all
plants, and there are a number that meet
spells of bad weather with temporary
expedients, just as a man puts up an um-
tive to weather, like some of those apprehen-
sive people who are so afraid of the slightest
shower that they are always taking unneces-
sary precautions. The pimpernel closes not
only for rain but at the passing of every
harmless cloud, and has thereby earned the
name of " the shepherd's, or the poor man's,
weather glass " though if one were guided
by it one would be in a state of perpetual
In the Dead Nettle the top petal forms a porch which keeps the opening into
the flower quite dry. The leaves, too, make roofs over the flower clusters.
brella, wraps himself up in a mackintosh
or takes cover in similar circumstances.
The water-lily is one of these. Its large
white rosettes with the golden centre are
wide open in the sunshine, but towards
evening, for fear of dew, and at the approach
of rain, the white petals close over the centre
only to unfold with daybreak or fine weather.
When the flower closes it often becomes
practically invisible among the leaves, so
popular superstition said that it went under
the water. But, of course, there is no real
foundation for this idea ; the green sepals
merely wrap over the white petals and hide
them.
The scarlet pimpernel is extremely sensi-
nervousness. It also definitely " goes to
sleep " every day early in the afternoon,
not to wake until eight or nine o'clock the
.next morning. The little blue germander
speedwell is very like the pimpernel in its
ways, and the star of Bethlehem (Ornitho-
galum), which is now counted among our
British wild plants though more common in
our gardens, is also weather-sensitive. It
only comes out in the sunshine, and though
it is very gay and starry when it does appear,
it closes up into its green and white buds
directly the sky clouds over, and long before
the rain actually comes. The crocus and
its brother the meadow saffron also close,
and very wisely, or their deep, narrow cups
55 2
WILD FLOWERS AND THEIR WAYS
1. The Water-lily open in the daytime. 2. The Water-lily closing in the evening,
when it tends to become so enclosed in its green sepals as to be almost invisible
amongst the green leaves.
would speedily fill with water to the detri-
ment of everything inside.
The golden winter aconite, that so gaily
runs riot over our plantations in the earliest
days of the New Year, has rather an in-
teresting expedient of its own. In this
flower the petals have changed into nectaries
and the sepals, usually green in flowers,
are coloured yellow like petals. There are
many rings of stamens, and the heads of the
outer ones shed their pollen first, the rest
maturing in turn until the central ones are
reached. The yellow sepals always curl
over and protect the stamens when rain is
about or night coming, but at first they are
short and just curl over the outer ones,
which, of course, is all that is really needed,
but as the rings of ripening stamens get
nearer and nearer the centre the sepals
keep pace with them by growing longer
and longer at nights, and so the pollen
is always kept dry.
Everyone knows that the daisy is the "day's
eye," opening by day and closing by night
The Star of Bethlehem in the rain, and in the sunshine.
553
THE PAGEANT OF NATURE
and in wet weather. Here we have a halo of
white rays surrounding a multitude of minute
flowers set on a cushion at the end of the
stalk, and this halo is not only an attractive
advertisement luring insect visitors to the
minute florets, it is also a guard and protec-
tion ever alert, when the sun withholds its
gracious presence, to arch over and keep
them snug and dry. Here again we find
The Dandelion in the rain.
the rays growing as the rings of florets
open successively towards the centre. What
the exact mechanism is that produces
this movement seems not quite clear. A
great botanist suggests that the closed
flower opens because the vibrations of
light striking on the petals become partly
changed into vibrations of heat, and the
two, jointly acting upon the watery sap
in the cells, bring about chemical changes
that alter the tensions in the cells and
promote growth. Further, it appears that
the " wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower "
has a deep-laid reason for the pink tips
to the petals. They are not merely for
a little added decoration, but are due to a
substance known as anthocyanin, which has
a special faculty of changing light into heat.
They form the top of the dome-like covering
when the flower is closed, and thus catch
the full effect of dawn or returning sunshine
and set the plant's mechanism in action.
Sometimes one finds a daisy that will not
go to sleep ! This is invariably an old one
whose day is done, and whose inner florets
The same plant in the sunshine.
are all fertilized and therefore no longer in
need of protection.
The dandelion bloom also opens and closes
in the same cautious way as the daisy, folding
its florets all together upwards. It is a good
sleeper and begins to retire for the night
very early in the evening, soon after five
indeed, and does not " awake " until maybe
seven in the morning and this in mid-
summer days ! The multitudinous hawk-
weeds and hawkbits may be classed with it,
and in all cases the movement is for the pro-
tection from rain or dew of the tiny ball of
pollen that each floret pushes out.
The carline thistle, dweller in arid wastes
and seaside dunes, and called " a mournful
554
The Daisy in the sunshine.
The Daisy in the rain, and also when "sleeping" at night.
The open flower on the left is an old one whose day is done and therefore no longer needs to close
for protection's sake.
THE PAGEKHT OF NATURE
Claytonia is a weathercock plant. In fine
weather the flowers are widely open.
spectacle " by Linnaeus because its very
presence denotes barrenness, is like those
people who can prophesy rain beforehand
because they " feel the weather in their
bones." So wonderfully sensitive is it to
approaching rain that village folk use it as
an infallible barometer. Here the shining
rays that ring the central florets are
merely scaly bracts, reddish outside and
straw coloured within, and very hygro-
scopic that is, they very quickly absorb
moisture and as quickly give it up.
Hence, when the air becomes moist with the
coming storm, or the mists of evening rise,
they immediately respond and close up,
forming a reddish tent over the yellow
florets in the middle, and the rain or dew
runs off their shining surface as off a glass
roof. As the air becomes drier again with
returning sunshine, they, too, rapidly dry,
roll back and spread like a golden halo.
Other flowers attain the same results by
other means. Some there are who hold
up cups to the sun, but they never under
any conditions close them. Instead, they
invert them, and show their indifference to
the weather by literally turning their back
upon it. The little herb Robert, the robin
redbreast of plant life, is one of these. Come
adverse weather, and it bows before the storm
to rise after it has passed with true indomit-
able robin perkiness. The wood anemone,
the lesser stitchwort, various campanulas and
geums, the scabious heads and very many
other plants are among those that bend over
at night as well as in the rain. Some
" go one better " still in that they both bend
and close. Such careful precautions are
taken by the fragile wood- sorrel, the delicate
rock-roses and by the claytonia, a North
American which has naturalized itself here
now, and can no longer be counted an alien.
Kerner has given the name of " weather-
cock plants " to those whose flower-stems
rise and bend in this way. When one finds
one of these flowers standing erect instead
of bending in due season, be sure that flower
is an old one whose pollen has been dis-
persed and has nothing left to live for.
It
m
In the rain Claytonia not only closes, but
inverts its flowers to make protection doubly
sure.
556
WILD FLOWERS AND THEIR WAYS
Even when flowers
seem to flaunt de-
fiance at bad weather,
this defiance is often
merely apparent and
not real, and they
are actually taking
secret precautions
that we do not
suspect. The stamen
heads, in which all
pollen is produced,
are really boxes that
open by lids, slits,
pores and such-like
to allow the pollen
to escape ; and in
certain flow 7 ers,in any
moment of danger,
The Geum is another weathercock plant. 1. Bending in the rain.
2. Upright in the sunshine.
557
the lids and pores
close and the edges
of the slits join
together, so that,
though the
stamens are hang-
ing out exposed
to the rain, their
pollen is being
kept safe and dry
inside their heads.
This happens in
the plantains, the
lady's mantle, and
the bastard toad-
flax, where the
anthers close up
within half a
minute of being
moistened.
In the Scotch
thistle and the
cornflower . though
the pollen is shed
THE PAGEANT OF NATURE
in due time, it is kept hidden in the tiny
flowers until the limb of some visiting
insect presses upon the spot where it is
hidden, when it is promptly shot out upon
the visitor. As insects, as a rule, only visit
in fine weather, all is well.
The effect on the landscape of this re-
sponse of flowers to weather conditions is
often very marked. The contrasting photo-
graphs of the daisy, given here, show vividly
what the scenic effect of even one small root
can be, and when one surveys whole fields
covered with endless flowers all acting more
or less in concert, the general result must
necessarily be remarkable. It is not only
because the sky is grey that nature seems to
lose its joyous-
ness . The
writer well re-
members pass-
ing along a
certain North-
amptonshire
lane where
either hand
sapphire-blue
flowers were
the roadside on
was a sheet of
speedwell veronica. The
particularly fine, just the
and a grey round " pearl " stands in the
place of each bright lovely flower. As
this result was multiplied endlessly, there
is no wonder the beauty had faded out
of the lane.
Again, a certain piece of waste dry land
covered with dandelion roots was a joy
to the eye on a certain sunshiny morning,
so brilliant and numerous were the golden
dandelion stars that faced the sunshine,
but a heavy mid-day shower turned all
the bright stars to mere yellow points
and the land stood revealed as a bit of
bare drabness of unmitigated ugliness.
So, too, in our gardens, the cheerlessness
of outlook upon a wet day is in a large
measure due to the closing,
drooping, or bending over
of many of the flowers;
thus the pansies droop,
the nemesias huddle and
go " dowdy," some of the
composite flowers droop
their rays, the big cistus
flowers close, and so on.
The fact that one does
not usually choose wet
weather in which to stand
and closely observe Na-
ture's ways has led to
this point being much
overlooked. We get
the same obliteration of
brightness, though, of
course, in a much greater
degree, when a sudden
upon a gaily dressed crowd,
1. Clover leaves by day.
2. By night, for the sake
of warmth, they fold the
two lower leaflets placing
their faces together, and
the upper one roofing
them over.
colour of the sky above, and in the sun-
shine the whole lane was a wonderful
revelation of " heavenly blueness." As one
stopped to look one understood why the
children call this plant " angels' eyes."
But, passing back along the lane later when
afternoon was merging into evening, and
the sun had gone, one found it without colour
or beauty the wonder was that so ordinary
a lane could ever have been thought attrac-
tive and then one realized that every one
of those " angels' eyes " had closed, for the
time had come " when the blewart bears a
pearl," as James Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd,
said. The petals, brightest blue on the face,
are pearly grey behind, so, as they fold to-
gether, the brilliancy hides from sight,
shower falls
the individuals of which immediately cover
themselves with cloak and umbrella.
Among leaves there are a few, but only a
few in this country, that take up day and night
positions, chiefly to meet varying tempera-
tures. Thus, in the clovers, bird's-foot tre-
foil, the melilots, medicks and the wood-
sorrel, whose leaves are made up of three
leaflets, we find the leaflets drooping and
closing together as night falls. Note how
prettily in the shamrock the two lower leaf-
lets place their faces together while the third
leaflet roofs them both over in motherly
fashion. On the big acacia trees, too, the
long leaves, made up of many oval leaflets,
droop these leaflets towards dusk, so that
they hang back to back and thus protect
each other against the chills of night.