Part 16

_Ants._--An universal bustle and activity observed in ant-hills may be generally regarded as a sign of rain: the Ants frequently appear all in motion together, and carry their eggs about from place to place. This is remarked by Virgil, Pliny, and others.

_Asses._--When donkeys bray more than ordinarily, especially should they shake their ears, as if uneasy, it is said to predict rain, and particularly showers. Forster noticed that in showery weather a donkey brayed before every shower, and generally some minutes before the rain fell, as if some electrical influence, produced by the concentrating power of the approaching rain-cloud, caused a tickling in the wind-pipe of the animal just before the shower came on. Whatever this electric state of the air preceding a shower may be, it seems to be the same that causes in other animals some peculiar sensations, which makes the peacock squall, the pintado call "come back," &c. An expressive adage says:--

"When that the ass begins to bray, Be sure we shall have rain that day."

Haymakers may derive useful admonitions from the braying of the ass: thus the proverb:--

"Be sure to cock your hay and corn When the old donkey blows his horn."

_Bats_ flitting about late in the evening in spring and autumn foretel a fine day on the morrow; as do Dorbeetles and some other insects. On the contrary, when Bats return soon to their hiding-places, and send forth loud cries, bad weather may be expected.

_Beetles_ flying about late in the evening often foretel a fine day on the morrow.

_Butterflies_, when they appear early, are sometimes forerunners of fine weather. Moths and Sphinxes also foretel fine weather when they are common in the evening.

_Cats_, when they "wash their faces," or when they seem sleepy and dull, foretel rain.

_Chickens_, when they pick up small stones and pebbles, and are more noisy than usual, afford a sign of rain; as do fowls rubbing in the dust, and clapping their wings; but this applies to several kinds of fowls, as well as to the gallinaceous kinds. Cocks, when they crow at unwonted hours, often foretel rain; when they crow all day, in summer particularly, a change to rain frequently follows.

_Cranes_ were said of old to foretel rain when they retreated to the valleys, and returned from their aërial flight. The high flight of cranes in silence indicates fine weather.

_Dolphins_ as well as _Porpoises_, when they come about a ship, and sport and gambol on the surface of the water, betoken a storm.

_Dogs_, before rain, grow sleepy and dull, lie drowsily before the fire, and are not easily aroused. They also often eat grass, which indicates that their stomachs, like ours, are apt to be disturbed before change of weather. It is also said to be a sign of change of weather when Dogs howl and bark much in the night. Dogs also dig in the earth with their feet before rain, and often make deep holes in the ground.

_Ducks._--The loud and clamorous quacking of Ducks, Geese, and other water-fowl, is a sign of rain; as also when they wash themselves, and flutter about in the water more than usual. Virgil has well described all these habits of aquatic birds.

_Fieldfares_, when they arrive early, and in great numbers, in autumn, foreshow a hard winter, which has probably set in in the regions from which they have come.

_Fishes_, when they bite more readily, and gambol near the surface of streams or pools, foreshow rain.

_Flies_, and various sorts of insects, become more troublesome, and sting and bite more than usual, before, as well as in the intervals of rainy weather, particularly in autumn.

_Frogs_, by their clamorous croaking, indicate rainy weather, as does likewise their coming about in great numbers in the evening; but this last sign applies more obviously to toads.

_Geese_ washing, or taking wing with a clamorous noise, and flying to the water, portend rain.

_Gnats_ afford several indications. When they fly in a vortex in the beams of the setting sun they forebode fair weather; when they frisk about more widely in the open air at eventide they foreshow heat; and when they assemble under trees, and bite more than usual, they indicate rain.

_Hogs_, when they shake the stalks of corn, and spoil them, often indicate rain. When they run squeaking about, and jerk up their heads, windy weather is about to commence; hence the Wiltshire proverb, that "Pigs can see the wind."

_Horses_ foretel the coming of rain by starting more than ordinarily, and by restlessness on the road.

_Jackdaws_ are unusually clamorous before rain, as are also _Starlings_. Sometimes before change of weather the daws make a great noise in the chamber wherein they build.

_Kine_ (cattle) are said to foreshow rain when they lick their fore-feet, or lie on their right side. Some say oxen licking themselves against the hair is a sign of wet.

_Kites_, when they soar very high in the air, denote fair weather, as do also _Larks_.

_Magpies_, in windy weather, often fly in small flocks of three or four together, uttering a strong harsh cry.

_Mice_ when they squeak much, and gambol in the house, foretel a change of weather, and often rain.

_Owls._--When an owl hoots or screeches, sitting on the top of a house, or by the side of a window, it is said to foretel death. "The fact," says Forster, "seems to be this: the Owl, as Virgil justly observes, is more noisy at the change of weather, and as it often happens that patients with lingering diseases die at the change of weather, so the Owl seems, by a mistaken association of ideas, to forebode the calamity."

_Peacocks_ squalling by night often foretel a rainy day. Forster adds, "This prognostic does not often fail; and the indication is made more certain by the crowing of Cocks all day, the braying of the Donkey, the low flight of Swallows, the aching of rheumatic persons, and by the frequent appearance of spiders on the walls of the house."

_Pigeons._--It is a sign of rain when Pigeons return slowly to the dove-houses before the usual time of day.

_Ravens_, when observed early in the morning, at a great height in the air, soaring round and round, and uttering a hoarse, croaking sound, indicate that the day will be fine. On the contrary, this bird affords us a sign of coming rain by another sort of cry; the difference between these two voices being more easily learned from nature than described. The Raven frequenting the shore and dipping himself in the water is also a sign of rain.

_Redbreasts_, when they, with more than usual familiarity, lodge on our window-frames, and peck against the glass with their bills, indicate severe weather, of which they have a presentiment, which brings them nearer to the habitations of man.

_Rooks_ gathering together, and returning home from their pastures early, and at unwonted hours, forebode rain. When Rooks whirl round in the air rapidly, and come down in small flocks, making a roaring noise with their wings, rough weather invariably follows. On the contrary, when Rooks are very noisy about their trees, and fly about as if rejoicing, Virgil assures us they foresee a return of fine weather, and an end of the showers.

_Spiders_, when seen crawling on the walls more than usual, indicate rain. "This prognostic," says Forster, "seldom fails, I have noticed it for many years, particularly in winter, but more or less at all times of the year. In summer the quantity of webs of the garden spiders denote fair weather."

_Swallows_, in fine and settled weather, fly higher in the air than they do just before or during a showery or rainy time. Then, also, Swallows flying low, and skimming over the surface of a meadow where there is tolerably long grass, frequently stop, and hang about the blades, as if they were gathering insects lodged there.

_Swans_, when they fly against the wind, portend rain, a sign frequently fulfilled.

_Toads_, when they come from their holes in an unusual number in the evening, although the ground be still dry, foreshow the coming rain, which will generally fall more or less during the night.

_Urchins of the Sea_, a sort of fish, when they thrust themselves into the mud, and try to cover their bodies with sand, foreshow a storm.

_Vultures_, when they scent carrion at a great distance, indicate that state of the atmosphere which is favourable to the perception of smells, and this often forebodes rain.

_Willow Wrens_ are frequently seen, in mild and still rainy weather, flitting about the willows, pines, and other trees, in quest of insects.

_Woodcocks_ appear in autumn earlier, and in greater numbers, previous to severe winters; as do Snipes and other winter birds.

_Worms_ come forth more abundantly before rain, as do snails, slugs, and almost all limaceous animals.

Some birds build their nests weather-proof, as ascertained by careful observation of Mr. M. W. B. Thomas, of Cincinnati, Ohio. Thus, when a pair of migratory birds have arrived in the spring, they prepare to build their nest, making a careful reconnaissance of the place, and observing the character of the season. If it be a windy one, they thatch the straw and leaves on the inside of the nest, between the twigs and the lining; if it be very windy, they get pliant twigs, and bind the nest firmly to the limb of the tree, securing all the small twigs with their saliva. If they fear the approach of a rainy season, they build their nests so as to be sheltered from the weather; but if a pleasant one, they build in a fair open place, without taking any of these extra precautions.

Of all writers, Dr. Darwin has given us the most correct account of the "Signs of Rain," in a poetical description of the approach of foul weather, as follows. This passage has been often quoted, but, perhaps, never exceeded in the accuracy of its phenomenal observation:--

"The hollow winds begin to blow; The clouds look black, the glass is low; The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep; And spiders from their cobwebs peep. Last night the sun went pale to bed; The moon in haloes hid her head; The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, For, see, a rainbow spans the sky. The walls are damp, the ditches smell, Clos'd is the light red pimpernel. Hark! how the chairs and tables crack, Old Betty's joints are on the rack; Her corns with shooting pains torment her, And to her bed untimely send her. Loud quack the ducks, the sea-fowls cry, The distant hills are looking nigh. How restless are the snorting swine! The busy flies disturb the kine. Low o'er the grass the swallow wings, The cricket, too, how sharp he sings! Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws, Sits wiping o'er her whisker'd jaws. The smoke from chimneys right ascends; Then spreading back, to earth it bends. The wind unsteady veers around, Or settling in the South is found. Through the clear stream the fishes rise, And nimbly catch th' incautious flies. The glowworms num'rous, clear, and bright, Illum'd the dewy hill last night. At dusk, the squalid toad was seen, Like quadruped, stalk o'er the green. The whirling wind the dust obeys, And in the rapid eddy plays. The frog has chang'd his yellow vest, And in a russet coat is drest. The sky is green, the air is still, The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill. The dog, so altered is his taste, Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast. Behold the rooks, how odd their flight, They imitate the gliding kite, And seem precipitate to fall, As if they felt the piercing ball. The tender colts on banks do lie, Nor heed the traveller passing by. In fiery red the sun doth rise, Then wades through clouds to mount the skies. ''Twill surely rain, we see 't with sorrow, No working in the fields to-morrow.'"

The Shepherd of Banbury says:--"The surest and most certain sign of rain is taken from Bees, which are more incommoded by rain than almost any other creatures; and, therefore, as soon as the air begins to grow heavy, and the vapours to condense, they will not fly from their hives, but either remain in them all day, or else fly but to a small distance." Yet Bees are not always right in their prognostics, for Réaumur witnessed a swarm which, after leaving the hive at half-past one o'clock, were overtaken by a heavy shower at three.

FISH-TALK.

"Man favours wonders;" and this delight is almost endlessly exemplified in the stories of strange Fishes--of preternatural size and odd forms, which are to be found in their early history. In our present Talk we do not aim at re-assembling these olden tales, but propose rather to glance at recent accessions to our acquaintance with the study of Fish-life, and a few modern instances of the class of wonders.

Fishes, like all other animals, have a very delicate sense of the equilibrial position of their bodies. They endeavour to counteract all change in their position by means of movements partly voluntary and partly instinctive. These latter appear in a very remarkable manner in the eye; and they are so constant and evident in fishes while alive, that their absence is sufficient to indicate the death of the animal. The equilibrium of the fish, its horizontal position, with the back upwards, depends solely on the action of the fins, and principally that of the vertical fins. The swimming-bladder may enable a fish to increase or diminish its specific gravity. By compressing the air contained in it, the fish descends in the water; it rises by releasing the muscles which produced the compression. By compressing more or less the posterior or anterior portion of the bladder, the animal, at pleasure, can make the anterior or posterior half of its body lighter; it can also assume an oblique position, which permits an ascending or descending movement in the water.

There is a small fish found in the rivers of the Burmese Empire, which, on being taken out of the water, has the power of blowing itself up to the shape of a small round ball, but its original shape is resumed as soon as it is returned to the river.

Mr. St. John, in his "Tour in Eastern Lanarkshire," gives some curious instances of fish changing colour, which takes place with surprising rapidity. Put a living black burn Trout into a white basin of water, and it becomes, within half an hour, of a light colour. Keep the fish living in a white jar for some days, and it becomes absolutely white; but put it into a dark-coloured or black vessel, and although on first being placed there the white-coloured fish shows most conspicuously on the black ground, in a quarter of an hour it becomes as dark-coloured as the bottom of the jar, and consequently difficult to be seen. No doubt this facility of adapting its colour to the bottom of the water in which it lives, is of the greatest service to the fish in protecting it from its numerous enemies. All anglers must have observed, that in every stream the Trout are very much of the same colour as the gravel or sand on which they live: whether this change of colour is a voluntary or involuntary act on the part of the fish, the scientific must determine.

Anglers of our time have proved that Tench croak like frogs; Herrings cry like mice; Gurnards grunt like hogs; and some say the Gurnard makes a noise like a cuckoo, from which he takes one of his country names. The Maigre, a large sea-fish, when swimming in shoals, utters a grunting or piercing noise, that may be heard from a depth of twenty fathoms.

M. Dufossé asserts that facts prove that nature has not refused to all fishes the power of expressing their instinctive sensations by sounds, but has not conferred on them the unity of mechanism in the formation of sonorous vibrations as in other classes of vertebrated animals. Some fishes, he says, are able to emit musical tones, engendered by a mechanism in which the muscular vibration is the principal motive power; others possess the faculty of making blowing sounds, like those of certain reptiles; and others can produce the creaking noise resembling that of many insects. These phenomena M. Dufossé has named "Fish-noise."

The River Plate swarms with fish, and is the _habitat_ of one possessed of a very sonorous voice, like that found in the River Borneo--the account of which is quoted by Dr. Buist from the Journal of the Samarang; and there is similar testimony of a loud piscatory chorus being heard on board H.M.S. Eagle, anchored, in 1845-6, about three miles from Monte Video, during the night.

That fishes hear has been doubted, although John Hunter was of this opinion, and has been followed by many observers. When standing beside a person angling, how often is the request made not to make a noise, as that would _alarm_ the fish. On the other hand, the Chinese drive the fish up to that part of the river where their nets are ready to capture them by loud yells and shouts, and the sound of gongs; but old Æsop writes of a fisherman who caught no fish because he alarmed them by playing on his flute while fishing. In Germany the Shad is taken by means of nets, to which bows of wood, hung with a number of little bells, are attached in such a manner as to chime in harmony when the nets are moved. The Shad, when once attracted by the sound, will not attempt to escape while the bells continue to ring. Ælian says the Shad is allured by castanets. Macdiarmid, who declares that fishes hear as well as see, relates that an old Codfish, the patriarch of the celebrated fish-pond at Logan, "answered to his name; and not only drew near, but turned up his snout most beseechingly when he heard the monosyllable 'Tom;' and that he evidently could distinguish the voice of the fisherman who superintended the pond, and fed the fish, from that of any other fisherman." In the "Kaleidoscope" mention is made of three Trout in a pond near the powder-mills at Faversham, who were so tame as to come at the call of the person accustomed to feed them. Izaak Walton tells of a Carp coming to a certain part of a pond to be fed "at the ringing of a bell, or the beating of a drum;" and Sir John Hawkins was assured by a clergyman, a friend of his, that at the Abbey of St. Bernard, near Antwerp, he saw a Carp come to the edge of the water to be fed, at the whistle of the person who fed it. The Carp at Fontainebleau, inhabiting the lake adjoining the Imperial Palace, are of great size, and manifest a curious instinct. A Correspondent of the "Athenæum" remarks:--

"Enjoying entire immunity from all angling arts and lures, the Fontainebleau Carp live a life of great enjoyment, marred only, we imagine, by their immense numbers causing the supply of food to be somewhat below their requirements. It is not, however, very easy to define what a Carp's requirements in the form of pabulum are, as he is a voracious member of the ichthyological family, eating whenever he has an opportunity until absolutely surfeited. His favourite food consists of vegetable substances masticated by means of flat striated teeth, which work with a millstone kind of motion against a singular process of the lower part of the skull covered with horny plates. When this fish obtains an abundant supply of food it grows to an enormous size. Several continental rivers and lakes are very congenial to Carp, and especially the Oder, where this fish occasionally attains the enormous weight of 60 lb. It is not probable that any Carp in the lake at Fontainebleau are so large as this; but there are certainly many weighing 50 lb., patriarchs of their kind, which, though olive-hued in their tender years, are now white with age. That the great size of these fish is due to ample feeding is, we think, evident, and, as we shall see presently, it is the large fish that are the best fed. During many years the feeding of the Carp at Fontainebleau has been a favourite Court pastime. But it is from the visitors who frequent Fontainebleau during a great part of the year that the Carp receive their most bountiful rations. For big Carp have an enormous swallow, soft penny rolls being mere mouthfuls, bolted with ostrich-like celerity. So to prevent the immediate disappearance of these _bonnes bouches_, bread, in the form of larger balls than the most capacious Carp can take into his gullet, is baked until it becomes as hard as biscuit, and with these balls the Carp are regailed. Throw one into the lake, and you will quickly have an idea of the enormous Carp population it contains. For no sooner does the bread touch the water than it is surrounded by hundreds of these fish, which dart to it from all sides. And now, if you look attentively, you will witness a curious display of instinct, which might almost take a higher name. Conscious, apparently, of their inability to crush these extremely hard balls, the Carp combine with surprising unanimity to push them to that part of the lake with their noses where it is bounded by a wall, and when there they butt at them, until at last their repeated blows and the softening effect of the water causes them to yield and open. And now you will see another curious sight. While shoals of Carp have been pounding away at the bread-balls, preparing them for being swallowed, some dozen monsters hover round, indifferent, apparently, to what is passing. But not so, for no sooner is the bread ready for eating, than two or three of these giants, but more generally one--the tyrant, probably, of the lake--rush to the prize, cleaving the shoals of smaller Carp, and shouldering them to the right and left, seize the bread with open jaws, between which it quickly disappears."

Some of the finest and oldest Carp are found in the windings of the Spree, in the tavern-gardens of Charlottenburg, the great resort of strollers from Berlin. Visitors are in the habit of feeding them with bread, and collect them together by ringing a bell, at the sound of which shoals of the fish may be seen popping their noses upwards from the water.