SUPPLEMENT  TO 
March  9,  1899.  JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER.  191 
GAKDEN  INSECTkS  AS  WEATHER  PROPHETS. 
Just  at  this  important  season,  when  winter  is  losinp;  its  grip  of  the 
land,  and  signs  of  spring  are  appearing,  a  sight  rather  familiar  to 
us  is  that  of  a  host  of  midges,  or  small  gnats,  disporting  over  some 
garden  walk.  I  have  also  noticed  them  by  thousands  along  a  road, 
having  evidently  descended  from  sloping  fields  above,  attracted  by 
the  sunshine.  Of  course  there  cannot  be  a  fre.sh  batch  of  these  Hies 
every  time  we  see  them,  so  that  at  intervals  they  must  hide  amongst 
grass  or  in  shrubs.  They  do  not  seem  to  be  vocal,  like  others  of  the 
tribe,  so  how  the  signal  to  assemble  is  given  we  cannot  tell.  Curious  to 
note,  the  flies  will  execute  now  and  then  a  double  movement,  rotating 
in  the  air  regularly,  while  they  are  also  moving  as  a  body  towards 
some  direction.  People  sometimes  hesitate  to  pass  through  a  swarm  of 
them,  lest  they  should  be  stung,  but  I  believe  the  insects  are  harmless, 
though  stinging  gnats  may  occur  in  parties  near  streams.  What  is 
specially  interesting  about  them  is  that  their  dances  are  thought  to 
betoken  an  improvement  of  the  weather.  I  suspect  their  indications 
are  deceptive,  for  I  have  known  a  wet  morning  to  follow  a  turn-out  of 
midges  at  dusk;  this  may  be  true,  that  when  they  appear  on  a  rainy 
day,  the  sky  will  clear  shortly. 
Newspapers  occasionally  narrate  the  appearance  of  butterflies  on 
the  wing  in  January  and  February,  the  conclusion  being  drawn  that 
they  are  signs  of  an  early  spring;  but  that  does  not  follow.  Brimstone 
and  tortoiseshell  butterflies  hybernate  in  nooks  and  corners;  a  fine 
winter’s  day  sometimes  rouses  them,  and  out  they  come,  probably  to 
fall  victims  to  a  hungry  bird  ;  they  may  also  be  dislodged  by  the 
clearing  of  a  barn  or  the  cutting  up  of  a  woodstack.  Nor  can  the 
emergence  of  such  moths  as  come  forth  at  the  beginning  of  the  year, 
should  it  occur  about  the  usual  date,  surprise  the  naturalist ;  it  is 
their  season,  if  to  the  ordinary  jierson  they  appear  unexpected  objects. 
Those  of  the  Hybernias  that  emerge  between  November  and  March  do 
not  vary  much  Avith  the  weather,  yet  in  a  sense  such  moths  may  be 
called  prophets — one,  indeed,  common  everywhere,  bears  the  name  of 
the  Spring  Usher.  These  are  slim-bodied  insects,  with  wingless 
females,  some  of  which  are  too  well  known  as  parents  of  broods  of 
caterpillars  which  strip  the  foliage. 
Every  gardener  wishes  to  have  a  calm  and  genial  spring,  and  many 
caterpillars  might  join  him  in  the  desire,  and  it  is  one  consolation  while 
keen  east  Avinds  blow,  that  they  are  destroying  hosts  of  his  juvenih' 
enemies  who  have  quitted  the  eggshell  rather  soon.  Spring  rouses 
the  hybernating  caterpillars  by  degrees,  some  venture  out  early, 
others  refuse  to  move  if  the  warm  days  are  few.  Should  a  gardens 
see  by  the  Avayside  on  Chickweed  or  Nettle  the  shaggy  caterpillar  of 
the  tiger,  it  is  a  hopeful  sign,  indicating  that  the  season  is  making 
progress  towards  warmer  nights.  Again,  should  he  detect  upon 
Gooseberry  or  Currant  the  spotted  caterpillar  of  the  cmrant  or  magpie 
moth  stretching  itself  after  its  long  nap,  he  may  conclude  the  in>ect  is 
aware  that  the  buds  are  just  expanding,  and  it  is  a  warning  to  look 
after  those  of  the  brotherhood. 
Good  old  Moses  Harris  tells  his  readers  that,  from  his  experience, 
the  flight  of  the  small  white  butterfly  early  in  the  morning  seldon. 
fails  to  foretell  a  fine  day.  Spiders,  too,  are  natural  barometers  ;  if 
heavy  rains  have  damaged  their  webs  during  the  night  they  bestir 
themselves  the  next  morning  should  the  sky  be  likely  to  clear,  bn ' 
Avhen  more  rain  is  approaching  they  coil  up  under  a  leaf  and  wait  for 
better  days.  On  those  dull  days  of  May  when  an  east  wind  bloAvs 
yet  the  air  is  rather  still,  the  migration  of  aphis  in  the  winged  form 
occurs.  In  some  way  unknown  to  us  these  tiny  insects  perceive  the 
approach  of  the  time  when  they  may  safely  fly,  and  by  watching  we 
may  see  them  preparing  for  the  weather  that  country  folks  call  a 
“  blight.” — J.  R.  S.  Clifford. 
WHAT  IS  IT? 
Yes,  what  is  it  ?  There  is  something  in  the  air — the  sky  is  full  ol 
portents — great  events  are  at  hand,  and  we  all  are  standing  and  watching 
with  breathless  expectancy. 
What  do  we  want  ?  what  do  we  desire  ?  Life  new  life  in  our 
veins — life  which  makes  the  old  young  again — life  which  makes  the 
young  intoxicated  with  joyous  hope  and  passion.  The  new  life  breaks 
slowly  at  first,  we  are  not  quite  sure  if  the  awakening  has  begun  in 
earnest ;  there  is  a  stir,  a  gentle  rustle  among  the  dry  haves,  and  then 
all  subsides  into  winter  stillness  again.  But  the  movements  are  ofteuer 
repeated,  the  rustlings  are  not  so  subdued,  and  a  harbinger  of  life 
appears  here,  there — ^just  forerunners  of  the  great  revival. 
The  purling  stream,  with  its  gentle  murmur,  wakes  the  first  note,  to 
he  quickly  taken  up  by  the  starling  and  the  blackbird,  two  such 
busy  individuals,  careering  over  the  lawn  intent  on  worms,  big  or 
little.  Indeed,  no  worm  seems  too  big,  and  a  tussle  between  the  bird 
and  its  most  unwilling  victim,  is  one  of  the  pleasant  sights  1  witness 
from  my  window. 
The  voice  of  the  dry  searching  wind  forms  an  orchestra  of  its  own  ; 
E.  by  N.E.  it  comes  tingling  and  smarting,  fairly  beating  us  into* 
action.  No  time  for  loitering  now,”  the  wind  says :  “  I  havt  dried  the 
damp  soil  and  made  the  highways  smooth  and  clean.  Oh,  son  of  man,. 
I  have  done  my  part,  now  do  yours.  Give  old  Mother  Earth  her 
wonted  tribute  of  seed,  and  plant  and  leave  her  to  nourish  and  bring 
up  children.”  The  days  of  winter  idleness  are  over,  the  days  of  h'  alth  - 
ful  outdoor  work  begin,  and  he  is  but  a  laggard  who  folds  his  hands 
and  will  not  face  the  sharp  sting  of  the  morning  air. 
The  flower  beds  appear  eruptive  ;  the  upper  crust  of  the  earth  is 
broken,  and  a  night’s  rain  and  a  day’s  sun  serve  to  discover  littl& 
bayonet  points  of  green.  We  shall  have  a  quick  succession  now. 
Fresh  and  tender  green,  the  harbingers  of  our  precious  floral  gems. 
Our  winter  flower,  the  saucy  Aconite,  is  ovei  ;  the  Fair  Maid  of 
February  treads  quickly  on  his  heels,  only  to  be  followed  b\  the  clusteis 
of  Crocus,  gold  and  imperial  purple,  which  in  their  turn  yield  the  sceptre 
to  the  myriad  hosts  of  Daffodil  and  Narcissi,  and  who  dispute  with 
Hyacinth  and  Tulip  place  and  homage.  We  are  wondering  what 
damage  King  Winter  may  have  done  to  our  Queen  ;  it  is  too  early  yet 
to  arrive  at  a  just  estimate,  but  all  signs  are  hopeful.  The  late  and 
warm  autumn  proved  a  grand  ripener  of  wood,  and  the  bark  looks^ 
healthy  and  vigorous.  Do  not  be  led,  my  friend,  into  the  error  of  too 
early  pruning,  the  frost  King  may  yet  have  surprises  for  us,  and  ours 
is  but  a  treacherous  clime. 
The  early  Violets  have  been  for  some  time  in  bloom  under  the  shelter 
of  the  old  Avail ;  we  shall  soon  be  searching  bank  and  dell.  Do  you 
know  where  the  first  Primrose  is  found  ?  Ah,  yes,  the  secret  is  mine. 
You  shall  have  a  share  of  my  spoil,  but  you  shall  not  know  my  happy 
hunting-ground.  Nature  reveals  her  secrets  to  her  lovers  ;  site  is  no 
coy  shy  beauty,  but  she  wants  no  bal  -hearted  admirers — all  the  heart 
or  none,  she  cries. 
It  were  folly  to  say  the  trees  and  hedgerows  are  as  dead ;  see  hoAV' 
Pia.  44. — Mr.  j.  R.  S.  Clifford. 
all  the  leaf  buds  swell  and  shine,  and  in  the  Pine  woods  is  incense¬ 
worthy  the  dwelling  of  the  Most  High.  The  natural  world  is  brimlul  of 
delic'hts ;  there  is  no  corner  too  mi  an,  no  plant  too  humble  to  be  left 
outTn  this  great  regeneration.  There  is  the  Fern-like  Corydalis  at  the 
window,  the  springing  roots  all  around  every  inch  of  the  dear  garden 
bearing  its  own  peculiar  treasure,  the  accumulation  of  over  twenty 
years,  each  with  iis  own  history,  each  with  its  memory  of  glan  days  or 
sorrowful  days,  and  they  all  are  passing  into  the  bands  of  strangers. 
The  last  good-bye  is  said,  and  the  happy  country  life  is  exchanged  (oh, 
sorry  exchange)  for  a  lile  of  mere  existence  in  the  murkv  town. 
— The  Missus. 
