116 CHAPTERS ON THE NATURAL HISTORY 



are rarely seen, but as the sun approaches the zenith, and the 

 recesses of the forest begin to be thoroughly warmed, these little 

 fellows may be observed descending the trunks of the trees to 

 engage in their favorite hunting expeditions, about the gnarled 

 roots that are exposed above the ground at their bases. Here 

 they capture all manners of insects, which constitute their food, 

 and it is during these feeding times that we have the opportunity 

 to behold some of their quaintest movements. I was so fortu- 

 nate, not long ago, as to catch one in the act, the instant after he 

 had made a successful spring upon rather a large butterfly. The 

 body of the insect was in his mouth, while the wings were vio- 

 lently napping at the side of the lizard's face. The reptile would 

 clinch his jaws together spasmodically two or three times, shut- 

 ting his eyes with a very tight squeeze each time he did so. At 

 last his prey was silent, when with a few energetic kicks he tore 

 off the creature's wings, and disposed of his body sans ceremonie. 



Anolis principalis no doubt renders, by its constant destruction 

 of these insects which infest the trees of our Southern cities, a 

 great service, and that, too, in a very modest and unassuming 

 way. In this respect how much better they are than that miser- 

 able and noisy little foreigner, the so-called English sparrow, 

 that we have taken so much pains to introduce and foster; a bird 

 now found in every city of our Union, from Boston to New Or- 

 leans, in alarming numbers; T say alarming, because I know, full 

 well, as every ornithologist in the land knows, that the day is 

 sure to come when we shall have seen enough of his dappled 

 brown coat, so constantly and impertinently intruded upon us, 

 at the expense of our own avian favorites, and we shall learn to 

 regard him, perhaps only when it is too late, as one of the agri- 

 cultural pests of the United States. 



The season approaches when Louisiana, recovering from the 

 temporary shock caused by her mock winter, again puts forth the 

 natural jewels of her animal and vegetable kingdoms, again pre- 

 sents us with fresh flowers and fresh fields, after so short a re- 

 lapse. Birds once more stream northward, mammals throw oil' 

 their semi-torpidity and resume their usual avocations. In the 

 overflown bayous, rendered almost unendurable by an atmos- 

 phere charged with the aromatic odors of a budding Southern 

 spring, we at this time, too, see (he gaudy representatives of the 

 reptilian world gradually make their several appearances. Frogs 

 croak, hylas peep, and in some sunny nook the deadly moccasin 



