HARD WICKE'S S CIENCE- G OSSIF. 



31 



RECOLLECTIONS OF AUSTRALIAN 

 ENTOMOLOGY. 



By W. T. Greene, M.D., F.Z.S., Author of 

 "Parrots in Captivity," &c. &c. 



IF Australia has occasionally been spoken of in a 

 more or less disparaging manner, because of the 

 paucity in actual numbers as well as in species, of 

 its Mammalia, and in a less degree of its birds, the 

 same cannot be said of its insects ; whose tribes, 

 flying, crawling, and swimming, absolutely defy com- 

 putation ; as anyone who has ever resided in, or 

 travelled for a couple of days through, the '* bush," is 

 but too well aware. 



I say " too well," because they are unpleasant, some 

 of these insects — exceedingly so, in fact, to every sense. 

 Some are positively terrifying, so strange and weird, 

 not to say unnatural, are their forms, while others are 

 dangerous in the highest degree, bearing, as they do, 

 almost certain destruction to their adversaries in their 

 heads or tails. Others, again, are interesting from 

 their habits, 'others from the periodicity that marks 

 their appearance and disappearance ; others from their 

 peculiar forms, which^simulate twigs, grass, or leaves ; 

 others from the gorgeous livery they wear, and others 

 again from all the above peculiarities combined. 



I propose, in this article, to consider briefly a few 

 of the more remarkable species of insects with which 

 I became acquainted during a sojourn of some years 

 in the great southern land, beginning with that 

 widely diffused persecutor of " new chums," the 

 mosquito. 



I remember some years ago, reading a story that 

 went the round of the papers at the time, to the effect 

 that a colonist sent one of these pests home in a letter 

 to a friend in England, and that the friend while 

 reading the missive, which informed him of the nature 

 of its enclosure, felt a sudden sharp prick on the back 

 of his hand, and glancing at the injured part, per- 

 ceived a small golden fly that immediately flew away 

 and escaped. 



It is unnecessary for me to dilate upon the impro- 

 bability of the story. Of course, it was utterly 

 impossible for the insect — a particularly fragile 

 creature — to have survived the pressure to which it 

 must necessarily have been subjected in the mail-bag, 

 and unfortunately for the narrative, the mosquito, far 

 from being a "golden fly," is very plainly dressed, 

 being, in point of fact, neither more nor less than a first 

 cousin to the well-known gnat, so familiar of an even- 

 ing to the rambler through the green lanes of old 

 England, where it may be seen disporting itself in 

 myriads, beneath the shade of the overhanging trees 

 and hedges ; the only difference being that our native 

 mosquito seldom bites, while its Australian congener 

 is one of the most bloodthirsty little abominations in 

 existence. 



During the great heat of the day, at our antipodes, 

 the mosquito wisely keeps himself under cover ; but 

 once the sun has disappeared beneath the horizon, 

 out he comes from his retirement with keenest 

 appetite, and pounces with unerring aim upon his 

 prey. You may shut up your tent as closely as you 

 please, you cannot keep him out ; you may hang 

 mosquito curtains round your bed and fancy yourself 

 free from his attacks ; pooh ! he laughs at your vain 

 precautions, and no sooner have you extinguished 

 your candle and settled yourself down — as you, think — 

 for a comfortable sleep, than " bizz ! " the awe- 

 inspiring sound is heard in painful proximity to your 

 ear, and presently a sharp prick, possibly on the end 

 of your nose, announces that war has actually begun. 

 You have nothing for it but to relight your candle, 

 and hunt your foe to death ; unless you prefer allowing 

 him to sate himself uninterrupted with your blood ; 

 which done he will retire to rest, and be found next 

 morning clinging to your curtain, a bloated little 

 vampire, too heavy to fly, when he will fall an easy 

 prey to your avenging fingers. There is one draw- 

 back, however, to this course of proceeding ; the 

 longer the mosquito sucks, the larger and more painful 

 will be the tumour that arises round the puncture he 

 has made ; so, as I remarked before, you must declare 

 war, and war to the knife at once, with your tiny but 

 implacable foe. 



The mosquito neither bites during the middle of 

 the day, nor the middle of the night, but just before and 

 after sunrise and sunset he is on the alert, and posi- 

 tively ubiquitous. The deepest shaft at Ballarat or 

 the closest room in Melbourne are alike familiar with 

 his presence ; the margins of rivers and creeks, and 

 clumps of bush, fifty or more miles distant from water, 

 he frequents them all alike ; town and country are the 

 same to him ; mountain or valley, wooded plain, or 

 table-land, he has no more predilection for the one 

 than the other ; nay, he has even been met with ten 

 miles out at sea ! If he cannot get at you by any 

 other means, he will be down upon you through the 

 chimney ; and if that is stuffed up, which can scarcely 

 be done without placing you in some danger of suffo- 

 cation, it will go hard with him if he cannot find an 

 entrance somewhere, for a pin-hole will afford him 

 ample scope for ingress where there is English blood 

 to be sucked, or French either, for that matter, for 

 he is not hard to please. 



The "old hands" declare that he only bites 

 "new chums," as they term the recent arrivals in 

 the colonies. All I can say is that he feasted upon me 

 as eagerly at the close as he did at the beginning of 

 a six years' residence ; but I suppose that lapse of 

 time did not entitle me to consider myself an old 

 hand ; the mosquitoes at least, did not seem to think 

 it did. 



Another almost insupportable pest are the flies, 

 which are so numerous and troublesome that one 

 could imagine the fourth plague of the old Egyptians 



