50 
A NATURALIST ON THE PROWL. 
the Rishi saw the flapping of the Pepul leaves on a sultry 
day, he sat under the shade of the tree and knew he 
was cool. And he blessed the tree that fanned his 
sacred limbs. 
Nevertheless, the shade of the Pepul is a fraud. It 
never has any when you want it. But the leaves of the 
Banian come before the heat, and its shade is a shade 
indeed. And to sit in contemplation under the majesty of 
a noble Banian would make a man a Rishi if he were not 
so before. 
What a world it is in itself, populous with beasts and 
birds and myriads of little things, which, though we call 
them insignificant, are sharers with us in the mystery of 
life and happiness. And how bountifully the tree feeds 
them all. It is literally a land flowing with milk and 
honey. The milk is in the leaves, beloved of goats and 
sought after also by certain beautiful butterflies for the 
nourishment of their young. While they are yet pink and 
tender, the delicately devised Map Butterfly, Cyrestis 
thyodamas , comes flitting round the tree and commits her 
eggs to its care. And before that, while the leaves are 
still packed in sharp-pointed cones, you will find them 
eaten into by a soft, fat grub, like a large green wood 
