Natural history -- Outdoor books; Nature; Nature study; Paris (France) -- Description and travel
specialised power of hearing he is still circumscribed and limited to
the groove of the brook. The birds fly from field to field, from valley
to mountain, and across the sea. Their experience extends to whole
countries, and their opportunities are constant. How much more
fortunate in this respect than the jack! A small display of
intelligence by the fish is equivalent to a large display by the bird.
When the jack has been much disturbed no one can do more than obtain a
view of him, however skilfully he may conceal himself. The least sign
of further proceedings will send the jack away; sometimes the mere
appearance of the human form is sufficient. If less suspicious, the rod
with the wire attached--or if you wish to make experiments, the rod
without the wire--can be placed in the water, and moved how you choose.
SPORT AND SCIENCE
Kingfisher Corner was the first place I made for when, as a lad, I
started from home with my gun. The dew of September lies long on the
grass, and by the gateway I often noticed wasps that had spent the
night in the bunches, numbed and chilled, crawling up the blades bent
into an arch by the weight of the drops. Thence they got on the gate,
where, too, the flies congregated at that time in the morning; for
while it was still cool at the surface on the ground, the dry wood soon
absorbed the heat of the sun. This warmth brought them to life again,
and after getting well charged with it, the insects flew off to any
apples they could discover. These heavy dews, as the summer declines,
keep the grass fresh and green, and maintain the leaves on hedge and
tree; yet they do not reach the earth, which remains dry. It is a
different dew to the spring dew, or acts in another manner: the spring
dews moisten the earth, and from the arable lands as the sun shines
forth you may see the vapour rise and drift along the surface, like the
smoke of a gun on a damp day. The mottled geometrical giant spiders
find their webs thick with this September dew, which seems as if a
little unctuous. Stepping through the gateway with the morning sun
behind me, I saw at each step a fresh circle of dewdrops gleam, some
ruby, some emerald, some brightly white, at the same distance in front.
The angle of refraction advanced as I moved; there was a point at which
the dewdrop shot back a brilliant ray, and then became invisible, or
appeared a mere drop of dull water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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