120 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
[April, 
FLYING FOXES OF CEYLON. 
The Editor with His Young Readers. 
Our young Mends are doubtless familiar with 
the appearance of the common bat. It may be seen 
on almost any summer evening flitting about in 
pursuit of insects, sometimes entering dwellings. 
They are friends to man, and none but uninformed 
persons would think of killing them. They destroy 
multitudes of millers and other insects, which 
would otherwise spoil fruits and vegetables. The 
curious creatures represented in the engraving are 
of the bat family. They are so large that they 
have been named flying foxes. Specimens of them 
were brought to London a few years since, from 
which our sketch was made. A writer says of them: 
“ There are more singular inhabitants of Ceylon 
trees than monkeys. The flying foxes hang from 
them like fruit. The flight of these creatures is 
directed by means of a membrane attached to the 
Inner side of each of the hind legs, and kept dis¬ 
tended at the lower extremity by a projecting bone, 
just as a fore-and-aft sail is distended by a ‘ gaff.’ 
Over the entire surface of the thin membrane of 
which they are formed, sentient nerves of the ut¬ 
most delicacy are distributed, by means of which 
the animal is enabled during the darkness to direct 
its motions with security, avoiding objects against 
contact with which, at such times, its eyes and oth¬ 
er senses would be insufficient to protect it. By 
day they suspend themselves from the highest 
branches of the silk-cotton trees, hanging by the 
claws of the hind legs, with the head turned up¬ 
ward, and pressing the chin against the breast. At 
sunset, taking wing, they hover with a murmuring 
sound, occasioned by the beating of their broad, 
membraneous wings, around the fruit trees, on 
which they feed until morning, when they resume 
their pensile attitude as before. They hang in such 
prodigious numbers that the branches often give 
way beneath their accumulated weight. They fly 
in clouds as thick as bees or midges. When at 
rest or asleep, the disposition of the limbs of the 
flying fox is most curious. At such times it sus¬ 
pends itselt by one foot only, bringing the other 1 
close to its side, and thus it is enabled to wrap it¬ 
self in the ample folds of its wings, which envelope 
it like a mantle, leaving only its upturned head un¬ 
covered. Its fur is thus protected from damp and 
rain, and, to some extent, its body is sheltered from 
the sun. As it collects its food by means of its 
mouth, either when on the wing or when suspend¬ 
ed within reach of it, the flying-fox is always more 
or less liable to have the spoil wrested from it by 
its intrusive companions, before it can make good 
its way to some secure retreat in which to devour 
it unmolested. In such conflicts they bite viciously, 
tear each other with their hooks, and scream inces¬ 
santly, until, taking to flight, the persecuted one 
reaches some place of safety, where he hangs by 
one foot, and grasping the fruit he has secured in 
the claws and opposable thumb of the other, he 
hastily reduces it to lumps, with which he stuffs 
his cheek-pouches uutil they become distended like 
those of a monkey; then, suspending in safety, he 
commences to chew and suck the juices, rejecting 
the refuse with his tongue.” 
A^owt IBJoie ISirtls. 
A correspondent, “A. H. G.,” Rondout, N. Y., writes 
for the boys and girls of the American Agriculturist the 
following interesting facts : 11 1 am not aware whether it 
is generally known, that our useful and beautiful blue 
bird is more or less lacking in that instinct that belongs 
to other members of the feathered tribe. They are do¬ 
mestic little creatures, and disposed to build as near as 
possible to the habitations of man. Like the wren—with 
whom they are never on good terms—the bird house, or 
wood shed, or hollow apple tree, in the door yard, are 
their favorite haunts. But when these are not available 
their ignorance in selecting a place, is somewhat remark¬ 
able. They appear to have but little idea of the space 
that they require for their nesting operations, and many 
hundreds must yearly fall victims to this singular igno¬ 
rance. The first instance of this that came under my 
notice was several years ago. A neighbor was standing 
upon his piazza, in early Spring, when he heard some¬ 
thing flattering, apparently inside the pillar against which 
he was leaning. It was one of those hollow posts—put 
np more for ornament than use—about five inches square 
upon the inside. On examining the post he found a 
large knot hole just under the eave of the piazza. This 
immediately led him to saw off one side of the pillar about 
eight inches above the floor, and having pried off the 
piece, imagine his surprise to see a blue bird fly out, and 
to find within two only recently dead, with the skeletons 
of more than a dozen others—the accumulation of sever¬ 
al years, Another instance of a similar character, oc¬ 
curred in the stove pipe of a small country church. The 
pipe was raised about eight or ten feet above the roof and 
covered w-ith a ‘smokejack.’ In the Fall of the year when 
the Sexton came to examine the flue, preparatory to put¬ 
ting up the stove, he counted seven blue birds, that were 
found just where it joined the pipe. So emaciated had 
they become before dying, that scarcely a feather except 
those of the wings was ruffled. They had dried with 
almost as much perfection as though prepared by the tax¬ 
idermist. One other instance, only not attended with so 
great fatality, occurred in a wood-shed.—A piece of pipe 
several feet in length was standing on the stove, in a cor¬ 
ner of the building, near an open window. When the 
stove came into requisition, here again, we found a blue 
biidin the flue in a state of almost perfect preservation. 
The ends of the wings in every instance were the only 
parts that had suffered. They were worn quite up into 
the shaft of the feathers—a proof of the efforts that the 
little creatures had made to rise, and failed from want of 
sufficient room to spread their wings. Care should be 
taken to prevent such occurrences, by providing houses 
of larger dimensions than ‘ wren’s nests,’ where the blue 
bird can find a place of comfort and security to build. 
They are worth preserving in a garden. The insects that 
they destroy as well as the beauty of their color and the 
domestic character of their lives and song, should place 
them among the farmer’s especial favorites.” 
C’oiiflaiiiiiig- 15ird.s—S®IeasiMg’ fliccltlent. 
J. E. Hardisty, Jerusalem Mills, Harford County, Mary¬ 
land, writes to the American Agriculturist as follows : 
“ Last Summer, about the 1st of August, a pair of the 
wren family, called here the ‘woods wren,’ w r ere ob¬ 
served near our kitchen door, upon an apple-tree, 
making an unusual noise, seemingly in great distress. 
The cause was soon discovered: one of their young 
ones had just fallen a prey to the cat. Two or three 
days after, apparently the same birds were frequently 
seen flying in and out of the second-story windows, and, 
to our surprise, we found that they had gathered a wad 
of dried grass as large as a child’s head, upon the top of 
the wardrobe, where was a space about six inches high. 
The nest was neatly formed, and lined with feathers, but 
not so carefully as is done by common house wrens. At 
first the birds were a little shy of us, but soon learned to 
disregard our presence. Our little folks, four in number, 
were successively lifted up to see, first, the nest; 
secondly, the bird on the nest; thirdly, the ypung birds, 
two in number. Nothing could exceed the joy of the 
children as they gazed again and again upon the con¬ 
fiding little creatures, nor was our own pleasure much 
less. About the 1st of September, my wife on going up 
stairs found the young birds hopping about the room; 
one of them flew up and clung to her breast, and re¬ 
mained there for some time, looking about and up into 
her face with the greatest confidence, while she moved 
about from room to room attending to her duties. By 
night they had disappeared, and have not since been 
seen, though we now and then hear their pleasant notes; 
• Te-heaugh-heaugh, Te-heaugh-Teaugh, Te-heuit,’— 
which in the Winter, for they remain with us all Win¬ 
ter, is changed to ‘ Tittle-lu, Tittle-lu, Tittle-lu.’ They 
warble other notes which our language cannot express. 
They are a little larger than the common house wren, 
with long tail, comparatively large broad head, with a 
whitish streak curved over the eyes ; back, light brown ; 
breast, bluish w'hite. Their movements are very similar 
to those of the house wren.” 
A Mysterious BSlack: Cat. 
A lady of the writer’s acquaintance was one evening 
sitting alone in a room from which a door opened into a 
long dark hall. As she chanced to look in that direction, 
she was somewhat startled to see what appeared to be a 
large black cat sitting upon the hall stairs. There were 
two brightly gleaming eyes glaring upon her in a manner 
that made her feel rather uncomfortable, especially as 
she owned no cat, and it must be a strange animal. 
“ Scat,” she exclaimed, stamping on the floor. It did not 
move. “ Scat,” once more, with a louder stamp. But 
still it remained. She drew off her shoe, and with anoth¬ 
er “scat” threw it directly at the object, but there it sat 
as before. Though somewhat startled, the lady was no 
coward, and taking the lamp she went directly to the mys¬ 
terious animal and found she had been trying to drive 
away the ends of two bright brass stair rods, from which 
the light had been reflected, presenting the appearance 
of two glittering eyes : the shadow of the stair to an ex¬ 
cited imagination might easily represent the body of a 
black cat.—How many ghost-scares originate similarly. 
