1802 .] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
199 
Influence of the Moon on Vegetation. 
Superstitions die hard. Men have a natural 
love of the marvellous. The simple truth don’t 
satisfy. We like to be imposed upon, and not 
content with this, we impose upon ourselves. 
An instance of this appears in the various no¬ 
tions in vogue respecting the influence of the 
moon. Here are a few of themThe rays of 
the full moon falling upon a pan of milk will 
turn it sour. The light of the moon produces a 
chill. Purgatives for children operate only in 
the first quarter of the moon. Pork will shrink 
badly, if killed in the wrong quarter. Peas 
planted in the first quarter will run to vines. 
Hemlock bark peels easily in the new, but not in 
the old of the moon, in August and September! 
We have read of a man who '•'■knew that hickory 
cut in the new of the moon was safe forever 
from worms, for he had tried it” ; “ Saf e forever, 
for he had tried it.” Venerable old man! you 
have plucked the honors from Methuselah. 
The moon, so the astronomers show us, is at 
a mean distance from our planet of 240,000 
miles—sometimes a little farther off (apogee), 
and sometimes a little nearer (perigee). It re¬ 
volves around the earth once in twenty-seven 
days, but, on account of the daily revolution of 
the earth on its own axis, the moon appears to 
go round us once in about twenty-five hours. It 
appears larger at one time than another, but this 
is only because the sun then shines upon more 
of that portion of the surface which we see. 
The same quantity of matter revolves around 
us at the first quarter of the moon as at the full 
moon, only we do not see it. 
Does the moon, then, affect us by attraction ? 
This acts on all matter alike, and it diminishes 
inversely as the square of the distance. The in¬ 
fluence of the moon’s attraction must be nearly 
uniform and constant, not dependent on the 
mere fact of its givinglight or not. As it passes 
over us every day of the year, at nearly the same 
distance, why should not its attracting power be 
about equal every day ? Yet people never think 
of the moon’s power when it is not visible. 
Consider, too, its comparatively small bulk— 
only about one seventieth the quantity of mat¬ 
ter of our globe—and its immense distance from 
us. Is it supposable that its attracting power 
can influence the rise and fall of the sap in veg¬ 
etables, or the flow of blood in animals ? 
Still, it can not be denied that the moon pro¬ 
duces mechanical effects on our globe. Its in¬ 
fluence to a great extent causes the tides of the 
ocean. Yet it does not sensibly affect the sur¬ 
face of our lakes and rivers; and if it does not 
influence those great inland seas, is it likely that 
it affects the juices in the stalks of peas, or the 
sap in hemlocks ? 
But how about the influence of its light ? It 
has no light of its own, but merely reflects that 
of the sun; so it is sun-light after all. How 
powerful is it ? There is, according to M. Bor- 
guer, a French philosopher, only 1-300,000th 
part of the illuminating force in it that there is in 
the sun. Surely, only a little effect can be pro¬ 
duced by that. Yet, as stated by Dr. Lindley, 
(see last edition of his “Theory of Horticulture,”) 
a very slight effect has been detected by a French 
naturalist, on the delicate leaves of the Mimosa 
ciliata, M. pudica , and the Desmodium gyrans , the 
first being raised four-tenths of an inch, the sec- 
end about an inch, and the last exhibiting slight 
vibrations. These plants are very delicate and 
sensitive in their organization, and it would, not 
be wholly impertinent to suggest that possibly 
these effects were produced, accidentally, by the 
artificial heat or lights of the green-house in 
which the experiments were performed, or by 
the bodily warmth of the operator, or by cur¬ 
rents of air from open doors or windows. But, 
at most, the effect of the moon’s ray is so slight 
on ordinary plants as to be entirely impercepti¬ 
ble, and of no practical account. An astronom¬ 
ical professor at our elbow observes that the re¬ 
flection of light from a white cloud by day is 
stronger than that from the full moon. 
As to the heat of the lunar ray, no great claim 
will be set up for it by any body. Indeed, our 
friend was about right when he affirmed that 
the moonlight chilled him. Experiments have 
been tried with the most delicate thermometers, 
and not the least impression was produced. 
On the whole, we can not find that these 
moon-struck people have much beside moon¬ 
shine in their theories. Those with whom we 
have happened to talk, seemed about as serious 
and wise as the farmer who gravely said: “ And 
I allers took notice, in layin’ stun-wall, par¬ 
ticularly in the full o’ the moon, that the foun¬ 
dation stun allers cum next to the ground!” * 
For the American Agriculturist. 
Spare the Birds! 
A certain New-Hampsliire poet is hard upon 
bird-shooters. He declares: “You have lived 
too long already. Instead of marble, you de¬ 
serve a white birch slab, with this epitaph: 
Here lies at rest, a worthless pest, 
Who had no soul to lose or save ; 
And these four words- He killed the birds, 
Proclaim his worth who fills this grave.” 
Well, I have myself said similar things in 
the days of my inexperience, but just now, 
smarting under many sufferings, beg to sing a 
different song. What thieves some of the birds 
have proved to be ! Having won our affections 
they took great liberties with our property. 
Our strawberry beds, filled with the choicest 
new varieties, and just coming into bearing, 
were their first plunder. Whistling at them, and 
shoo! shoo-ing, did no permanent good. They 
thought it only one of our amusements. We 
then set up all sorts of scare-crows, old coats, 
hats and bonnets of former generations, rattling 
wind-mills, pieces of glittering tin, and such like 
terrific things. They answered well for a day 
or two; but after that the robins came and 
perched on the scare-crows, and revelled.among 
the berries again! We next tried throwing sticks 
and stones, until we were all tired and our 
patience clean gone entirely. 
Well, tenderness of heart and sentiment ruled, 
and the robins were allowed to take the better 
part of our strawberries. Next came the rasp¬ 
berries, and the robins likewise, and very hun¬ 
gry. We scolded, and threw sticks and stones, 
but to little purpose. The birds got most of the 
ripe fruit. We couldn’t hurt the sweet songsters. 
Last of all, came our grape-crop. Robins like 
good grapes. They coincide with the critics, 
that Delawares and Rebeccas are our best grapes, 
very toothsome, easily digested, maybe eaten in 
large quantities without disagreeable results, 
etc., etc. An occasional stick or stone flying 
about their heads is a very trifling affair. Loud 
talking, and all attempts at frightening them, 
do not disturb their serenity. The writer of this, 
in a moment of passion, last Fall, loaded his 
gun and shot two robins from his vines, and 
hung their mangled bodies across the top of the 
trellis as an awful example to others. In ten 
minutes after, several robins came and sat by 
the side of their dead companions, digesting 
their grapes and pluming their feathers as though 
nothing special had happened! Day after day 
the voracious birds came in flocks, and soon 
stripped our vines. The money loss, indeed, 
was not irreparable, but the disappointment and 
vexation—the loss of specimen clusters from 
many new varieties which I had watched for 
several years, and were just coming into bear¬ 
ing; lost, too, in such a cool, unappreciative 
way—was more than I could patiently bear. 
Henceforth, I shall keep my shooting-iron 
in order, and loaded; and the first robin that 
touches our strawberries, and the last that de¬ 
vours our grapes, shall feel the cold lead. In 
all other parts of our garden, orchard and lawn, 
all birds shall be welcome, but in the places 
afore-named we shall not be responsible for 
their lives. Fowler. 
[The argument of brute force is effectual, but 
should be used only as a last resort. We think 
birds that have the liberty of the lawn and or¬ 
chard, will not be likely to fear the cold lead 
that awaits them in the strawberry patch. They 
will fear a cat, either caged or stuffed. You can 
not put pussy to a better service than to guard 
the berries. She may be confined by a string 
in the strawberry patch, or in a large bird-cage 
among the raspberries and blackberries. A skin 
neatly stuffed, in the cherry tree, will frighten 
them away. Their instinct teaches them to 
shun certain natural enemies. Keep these in 
sight and your fruit is safe. What boy would 
steal pears with a fierce bull dog under the tree ? 
A bird’s instinct is as good as a boy’s.—E d.] 
Use of Toads in Agriculture. 
Our ugly friend affects gardens as much as 
the lord of creation. You will find him in a 
hole in the wall, in the strawberry patch, under 
the squash vines, or among the cucumbers. He 
is not handsome, but serene and dignified as a 
judge. He executes judgment upon all bugs, 
worms, snails, and pests of the garden, in the 
most summary way. See what a capacious 
maw he has, occupying the whole space from 
his fore legs to his haunches. He is the very 
incarnation of stomach, and his gastronomic 
feats would do credit to an Alderman. He tucks 
away bugs and all kindred flesh as an epicure 
would turtle and pudding. He is never full. 
That maw stretches like caoutchouc, and he is 
nearer having an endless gullet than any reptile. 
He is altogether too useful to be without ene¬ 
mies. All the serpent tribe hate him and devour 
him when they can. Even man slanders him. He 
misses a few strawberries from his patch, and 
lays it to the toad, who stands like a sentinel 
guarding his treasures. It was the snail who 
did the mischief before the toad took up his sta¬ 
tion; fortunately he is now where he will spoil no 
more ruddy fruit. Or it was the robin who slyly 
snapped up the berries and flew off into the neigh¬ 
boring tree, leaving the poor toad to bear his 
sins. But you see by the look of his honest 
face, that he is guiltless. Those lustrous eyes are 
above stealing. One fat bug would give him 
more pleasure than all the fruit in your garden. 
Cultivate the friendship of toads, for they take 
the insects that the birds are apt to overlook. 
They inspect the ground closely, peer under 
the leaves of strawberries, under the growing 
vines, and nab every creeping thing in sight. 
They are as easily domesticated as birds, never 
sing when you do not want them to, are quiet 
and unobtrusive; and if not worth five hundred 
dollars a piece, are still profitable pets and fel¬ 
low-helpers. Birch the boy that teases toads. 
