The Regency Library
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Naturalist Files The Naturalist’s Diary for January & February 1826 From Times Telescope, January 1826 at 24-30; February pages 56-58 The green leaves are now withered and decayed, and the bare branches are hung with icycles, and bent down under the weight of accumulated snows. ‘Hideous Winter’ stalks abroad, and spreads desolation around him; the flowers and the birds of Spring, the insect-myriads of Summer, and the luscious fruits of Autumn, are no more; all have fled at the cold touch of icy Hyems. Numerous animals are now retired to their winter sleep, and many of the feathered tribe have sought a warmer and more genial clime. The wrathful Winter hast’ning on apace, With blust’ring blasts had all ybar’d the treen, And old Saturnus with his frosty face With chilling cold had pierced the tender green; The mantles rent wherein enwrapped been The gladsome groves, that now lay overthrown, The tappets torn, and ev’ry tree down blown. The soil that erst so seemingly was seen, Was all despoiled of her beauty’s hue, And stole fresh flow’rs (wherewith the Summer’s queen Had clad the earth) now Boreas blasts down blew, And small fowls flocking, in their song did rew The winter’s wrath, wherewith each thing defaced, In woful wise bewailed the summer past. Hawthorn had lost his motley livery; The naked twigs were shiv’ring all for cold, And dropping down the tears abundantly; Each thing (methought) with weeping eye me told The cruel season, bidding me withhold Myself within, for I was gotten out Into the fields.----Earl of Dorset.Not so, however the inquisitive Naturalist; he neither regards the keen wind, nor the falling snow; he passes by no opportunity of enlarging his knowledge of the beauties and the wonders of creation. The Entomologist, in particular, will be amply repaid, in this and the succeeding month, by a walk through the fields and woods; and although they may be covered with the fleecy mantle of winter, the industrious collector will readily find objects of sufficient interest to reward his assiduity. ‘Often (observes Mr. Samouelle), in the month of January, have I repaired to the woods, and, though much snow lay on the ground, have taken great numbers of insects from under the bark of trees, moss, &c. and of species which have been scarce even in the summer months. At this season, the Entomologist should not omit to collect a quantity of moss from the roots of trees, which may be carried home in a pocket handkerchief and examined by shaking it over a sheet of paper, upon which the insects will fall, and are easily discovered. At this period also, if the weather be mild, the Entomologist should dig at the roots of trees for the pupae of Lepidoptera; for this purpose the digger is used, or a small trowel; the principal places worthy attention are the roots of oaks, elms, lime-trees, &c., or beneath the underwood, opening the earth close to the tree, and searching to the depth of several inches. Such pupae as penetrate into the wood require more care, lest they be destroyed when the attempt is made to extricate them; sound on the bark with the digger, and the hollows will soon be discovered where no external sign is visible; tear off the bark (and carefully examine it, for minute Coleoptera are frequently found adhering to it), and with a knife cut away the wood that surrounds the orifice of the cavity, to enlarge it and take out the pupae as carefully as possible.”—See Mr. Samouelle’s Introduction to the Knowledge of British Insects, (p. 314) an indispensable text book to every student n this delightful and highly popular branch of Natural History. This work exhibits the fruits of much labour and scientific research into a very attractive department of knowledge, and is presented to the public in a style of minute elegance and accuracy, highly worthy the interest of the subject which it illustrates. It does infinite credit to the author’s industry and acquirements as a Naturalist, and we feel a sincere pleasure in earnestly recommending it to the notice of our readers. The Throstle is now seen under sunny hedges and southern walls in pursuit of snails, which he destroys in abundance, particularly in hard winters; he delights also in chrysalids and worms. Other birds now quit their retreats in search of food. The nut-hatch is heard and larks congregate and fly to the warm stubble for shelter. The shell-less snail or slug makes its appearance, and commences its depredations on garden plants and green wheat. The hedge-sparrow and the thrush now begin to sing. The wren also ‘pipes her perennial lay,’ even among the flakes of snow. The blackbird whistles; the titmouse pulls straw out of the thatch, in search of insects; and linnets congregate. Pullets begin to lay; young lambs are dropped now. The field-fares, red-wings, skylarks, and titlarks, resort to watered meadows for food, and are, in part supported by the gnats which are on the snow, near the water. The tops of tender turnips and ivy-berries afford food for the graminivorous birds, as the ring-dove, &c. The house-sparrow chirps, and the bat is now seen. The garden presents scarcely any object of attraction during this month: in December there are still some lingering signs of vegetation; some annuals coming into flower, and some change to be observed in a few culinary plants, as the savoy and the leek. Now, however, almost every thing is at a stand, and so it must remain, whelmed in cold, till the first or second week of February gives relief, when the gooseberry bush and the elder will afford signs of the sap’s motion. From that time, the lover of plants dates his delight in watching their progress, till (beginning with the sloe) the whole round of fruit trees have come into blossom. In the absence of garden-flowers, however, the golden saxifrage and the stonecrop afford their little aid to give life and beauty to the wintry scene. The bramble still retains its leaves, and gives a thin scattering of green in the otherwise leafless hedges; while the berries of the hawthorn, the wild rose, and the spindle-tree, afford their brilliant touches of red. The twigs of red dog-wood, too, give a richness amid the general brown of the other shrubs. Ivy, ‘which kills the thing it loves,’ now casts its leaves. The Christmas rose shows its pretty flowers at this season, and, towards the close of the month, the Snowdrop blooms. The flowers of the rosemary, an emblem of fidelity among lovers, now begin to open. The pleasures and gratifications which flow from the fire-side of an English January may be considered almost peculiar to these islands. ‘In warmer climates’ (says a popular writer) ‘the aid of fire is demanded for little else than culinary purposes; whilst in the northern regions of continental Europe, the gloomy and unsocial stove forms, in general, the only medium through which the rigours of their intense winter are mitigated. To the enlivening blaze and the clean-swept hearth, and to all the numerous comforts which, in this county, so usually wait upon their junction, they are perfect strangers.’ February This month frequently presents a most wintry appearance; the ground is covered with snow; all Nature is wrapped in a robe of dazzling whiteness; and the ‘bitter-biting cold’ showers of sleet, and sudden gusts of wind, drive us to our homes for shelter, against the inclemency of the season. They sudden thaws, also, which take place in February, --the return of frost and snow—and the change again to rain and sleet, contribute to render this month particularly unfavourable to the pedestrian and the lover of out-of-door exercise and amusements. Yet there are some intervals of clear, frosty weather, and these should not be suffered to pass away without a daily enjoyment of them in pleasant and healthful walks. Although the deciduous trees are stripped of their gay dress, the evergreens present an attractive variety, and are doubly endeared to us, from the agreeable contrast they offer to the forlorn and barren scenery by which they are surrounded. Of late years, February has been remarkable for mild and open weather; such a state of the season is, however, not to be desired; for although the eye may be gratified by the premature appearance of the unfolding vegetation, our plants will be found to suffer greatly by the reduction in temperature which generally takes place in March. About the beginning of the month, the woodlark, one of our earliest and sweetest songsters, renews his note. The thrush now commences his song, and tom-tits are seen hanging on the eaves of barns and thatched out-houses, particularly if the weather be snowy and severe. Rooks revisit their breeding trees, and arrange the stations of their future nests. The harsh, loud voice of the missel thrush is now heard. The yellow hammer and chaffinch are heard towards the end of the month.—About this time also, or the beginning of March, if the weather be mild, the hedge-sparrow commences its chirping note, as indicative of the approach of the pairing season. Turkey-cocks now strut and gobble. Partridges begin to pair; the house-pigeon has young; field-crickets open their holes; and wood-owls hoot; gnats play about, and insects swarm under sunny hedges; the stone-curlew clamours; and frogs croak. By the end of February, the raven has generally laid its eggs, and begun to sit. Moles commence their subterraneous operations. About this time, the green woodpecker is heard in the woods making a loud noise. If the weather be mild, a walk in the garden will discovery to us many pleasing objects; among these, the botanist and the admirer of Nature’s beauties will not consider the modest snowdrop beneath his passing notice,--and will watch its gradual protrusion from the bosom of the all nourishing earth, and the final expansion of its beautifully white corollas, with no common interest. The bloom-buds of the fruit trees may be seen to swell every day, and imagination already pictures the garden one sheet of fragrant blossom. The laurustinus is still in blossom, and so is the China-rose. The buds of the lilac tree are very forward, and only wait the signal to burst their prison-house. Mosses now occupy the attention of the botanist, and much amusement may be derived from observing the various species that may be seen in this month, and much pleasure will be derived from a morning visit to its inmates; among these, not the least curious is the ice-plant. |
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