British Country Life in Autumn and Winter: The Book of the Open Air

By Edward Thomas

Contained within this book is a collection of essays, field notes, and diary excerpts from numerous naturalists relating to British country life in Autumn and Winter. These fascinating and highly-readable articles will appeal to those with an interest in the British countryside and naturalism in general. Contents include: "Open-air Diary for October", "Open-air Diary for November", "Open-air Diary for December", "Open-air Diary for January", "Open-air Diary for February", "Open-air Diary for March", "Flowers of the Shore", "A Surrey Plateau", "Day-flying Moths", "The Sphinx Moth", "Humours of Insect Life in October", "The Makers of Gossamer", etc. Many vintage books such as this are becoming increasingly scarce and expensive. We are republishing this volume now in a modern, high-quality edition complete with a specially commissioned new biography of Edward Thomas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A Thousand Fields
• Release date: Oct 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781473343702

Edward Thomas

Edward Thomas was born near Uxbridge in 1943 and grew up mainly in Hackney, east London in the 1950s. His teaching career took him to cental Africa and the Middle East. Early retirement from the profession enabled him to concentrate on writing. Along with authorship of half a dozen books, he has contributed regular columns to several journals.

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I

FLOWERS OF THE SHORE

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;

There is a rapture on the lonely shore;

There is society where none intrudes

By the deep sea, and music in its roar."

—BYRON.

OUR maritime flora continues much later in the season than that of the woods and hedgerows and other inland localities. In the month of September, when but few flowers will be found on the open downs, and when most of the bog plants are gone to seed, many interesting species are still in blossom by the seashore. The salt marshes which stretch for miles along the east coast are now aglow with the purple of the sea-lavender: on the rocky cliffs of Cornwall and South Wales the sea mallow is not yet past flowering; while on the short sandy turf—from early spring a favourite haunt of sea-loving species—numbers of wild flowers continue in bloom.

Among the most stately plants that grace our sea cliffs on certain parts of the coast must undoubtedly be reckoned the tree mallow (Lavatera arborea, L.). It is a tall and picturesque species, often six feet in height, with soft downy angular leaves, and abundance of glossy purple flowers. Parkinson, in the year 1640, notes it as growing about the cottages neere Hurst Castle, over against the Ile of Wight. A few years later Merrett states that Mr. Morgan received it from the Isle of Wight; and John Ray says, I have observed it in many places by the seaside, as at Hurst Castle over against the Isle of Wight; in Portland Island; and on the rocks of Caldey Island. It has now disappeared on the Hampshire coast and in the Isle of Wight, except here and there as an escape from cottage gardens; but on the rocks of Caldey Island, over against Tenby in South Pembrokeshire, it is as abundant as when, in 1662, Ray and Willughby visited the enchanting spot. Indeed our tree mallow, as the early writers called it, is a conspicuous feature in the flora of the district. Magnificent plants, many of them still in flower, were to be seen last September, not only on Caldey Island, but also on the rocks at Tenby, in company with the wild sea-cabbage (Brassica oleracea, L.), the origin of our cultivated varieties, and fennel, samphire, wild sea-radish, and a rare kind of sea-lavender (Statice occidentalis, Lloyd) which prefers the hard precipitous rocks to the muddy stretches of marshland which is the home of the commoner species.

At Giltar Head, some two miles from Tenby, over against St. Margaret’s Island, the golden samphire (Inula crithmoides, L.) was also in full flower last September. This conspicuous member of the Compositæ with narrow succulent leaves and large bright yellow flowers, must not be confused with the samphire immortalized by Shakespeare (Crithmum maritimum), the gathering of which, for purposes of pickling, was in his day regularly carried on by the hardy fishermen of the coast. The passage in King Lear is well known where above the white chalk cliffs of Dover, Edgar says to the Earl of Gloucester:

"Come on, sir, here’s the place; stand still.

How fearful

And dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low!

The crows and choughs that wing the midway air Show scarce so gross as beetles; half-way down

Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head."

Gerarde, a contemporary of Shakespeare, who calls this plant Rocke Samfier, states that it grows upon the rocky clifts at Dover, about Southampton, the Isle of Wight, and most rocks about the west and north parts of England. He speaks of its spicie taste, with a certain saltnesse, and as beeing of smell delightfull and pleasant, and adds that it makes the pleasantest sauce, most familiar, and best agreeing with man’s body. The custom of gathering samphire for pickling has now almost entirely ceased, but a hundred years ago it was a lucrative business in the Isle of Wight. Great quantities of it, wrote in 1799 the Rev. Thomas Garnier, a distinguished botanist, who afterwards became Dean of Winchester, are annually gathered for a pickle of the most exquisite flavour; it may be had by being ordered at the public-house, Freshwater Gate, from whence I have been constantly supplied; and where I have often seen, as Shakespeare literally describes it, a man gathering it midway on the perpendicular cliffs, suspended by a rope fastened on the top, and sitting on a short piece of wood with a basket slung to his shoulders, somewhat as colliers descend a coalpit, and as in that case, accidents have been known to happen in this. In consequence of the risk involved it appears that some little fraud was often practised in palming off other plants as the true samphire. Among these the golden samphire was a common substitute, and indeed it resembles the genuine kind in being compassed about with a multitude of long fat leaves, and to a certain extent in its aromatic qualities. Moreover, it could be gathered with little trouble and no danger in the marshes of this district, especially at Newtown, where now as then it is abundant. Its favourite haunt is mostly on the muddy banks of estuaries, although sometimes it is found on rocks. Ray noticed it not only in the Essex marshes, but also on the rocks at Llandywn in Anglesea; and at Giltar Head it flourishes in inaccessible places on the magnificent cliffs.

The dunes or sandhills and the short springy turf which on many parts of the coast borders the sea are sometimes famous places for rare and interesting plants. In addition to such generally distributed species as the beautiful sea-convolvulus with its large rose-coloured flowers striped with red, the yellow horned poppy with its cylindrical curved pod sometimes a foot long, the prickly saltwort, the scurvy-grass, once a famous remedy for scorbutic diseases and not without its virtue, the sea purslane, and sundry kinds of trefoils, choicer plants may sometimes be met with. On the coast of Suffolk between Lowestoft and Yarmouth the tall and stately lyme-grass (Elymus arenarius, L.) lends distinction to the sandy dens; and not far from the ruined church of Dunwich the sand cat’s-tail grass (Phleum arenarium, L.) is plentiful. Here and there on the Hampshire shore, but very sparingly, the delicate little pink, Dianthus prolifer, is found; and once the philosopher John Stuart Mill met with a single specimen of the purple spurge (Euphorbia peplis, L.) in San-down bay. This latter plant, at once distinguished by the purple hue of its stem and leaves, has now become very rare, and like the seaside cotton-weed (Diotis maritima) frequently recorded by early botanists, has doubtless become extinct in many of its former haunts. Another most interesting species, to be seen in a few localities on the shores of Cornwall and Wales, is the wild asparagus. It still exists near the Lizard Point, where Ray found it in the year 1667, and only last autumn I noticed it on the stretch of sandy burrow which curiously enough crowns the lofty headland of Giltar in South Pembrokeshire already alluded to. The lovely little burnet rose (R. spinosissima), then conspicuous with its black globular fruit, was trailing all over the ground, an uncommon form of felwort or autumn gentian (Gentiana Germanica) and the rare sea-spurge (Euphorbia Portlandica) were plentiful, and a few plants of Thalictrum minus were to be seen; but the choicest plant was the asparagus, known in old days as sparagus or sperage, corrupted, says Ray, into sparrow-grass. It was, beyond question, truly wild on this lofty, wind-swept elevation, which in spring-time is starred with the exquisite blue flowers of Scilla verna.

In the Isle of Wight, justly celebrated for the richness of its flora, there are several sandy spits or necks of land which will amply repay a botanical visit. The most famous of these is St. Helen’s Spit at the mouth of Brading harbour. It is a small piece of ground, not exceeding fifty acres, and yet it is said to support over two hundred and fifty species of flowering plants. In this respect it is perhaps unequalled by any area of like extent in the United Kingdom. Formerly the Dover at Ryde vied with it in the number and variety of its botanical treasures, but the Dover is no longer a haunt of wild flowers, and the only locality in the island now to be compared with it is Norton Spit near Freshwater. At Norton, it is true, the rare grass Phleum arenarium may also be found, and a few plants of asparagus which, although hardly indigenous, have been known to exist there for a long number of years. But the sandy tract near the early English tower of the now ruined church of St. Helen’s can show greater rarities than these. One plant calls for special mention. Unknown on the mainland of Hampshire, unknown in the neighbouring counties of Wilts, Dorset, Sussex, and Berkshire, unknown elsewhere in the Isle of Wight, at St. Helen’s Spit the autumnal squill (Scilla autumnalis) may be seen in extraordinary profusion. All over the sandy ground it puts forth its lovely little pale blue star-like flowers every August and September. Gerarde calls the plant the small Autumne Jacinth, and Ray the lesser Autumnal Star-Hyacinth, and the names are well chosen. How long the beautiful little jacinth has flourished at St. Helen’s there is no means of telling, for the island flora received but little attention from the early botanists. But there is no reason to doubt that it is truly indigenous. It seems to have been first recorded about the year 1823, and then it was as abundant as it is to-day, lending additional charm to this favoured spot.

Another striking species, not indeed rare and delicate like the vernal and autumnal squills, but characteristic of the loose sandhills of the coast, is the handsome sea-holly (Eryngium maritinum). This stout and prickly plant, not unlike a thistle in general appearance, but of a pale glaucous hue, and bearing dense heads or knops of glistering blew flowers of the bignesse of a wallnut, is often a conspicuous object on the seashore. In former days the long creeping roots, of the bignesse of a man’s finger and so very long as that it cannot be plucked up but very seldome, were highly esteemed when candied as a sweetmeat which was supposed to possess great virtues. It was known as Eringoes, and under this name Shakespeare refers to it in The Merry Wives of Windsor. In his list of rare Essex plants which Ray drew up for Gibson’s edition of Camden’s Britannia, published in 1695, the great botanist includes the sea-holly or eryngo, but adds: "This being a plant common enough on sandy shores I should not have mentioned, but that Colchester is noted for the first inventing or practising the candying or conditing of its roots, the manner whereof may be seen in Gerarde’s Herbal. It is interesting to know that in the Chamberlain’s accounts for the borough in the reign of James I there are several entries with reference to the purchase of eryngo roots. The trade was then in the hands of one Robert Buxton, an apothecary and alderman of the town, who in the time of the Civil War, after the famous siege of Colchester, was expelled from the Corporation for his political opinions. It was afterwards carried on by his apprentice, Samuel Great, or de Groot, a member of one of the refugee houses, in whose family the secret of the candying remained till the close of the eighteenth century. For a long period Great’s Candied Eryngo" was held in high repute, and a box of it was regarded as a present not unworthy for a queen. Indeed, when Princess Charlotte, on her arrival in England to be married to George III, passed through the town, she was duly presented with a box of the precious sweetmeat. The trade appears to have continued till about the middle of the last century when, owing, it is said, to the difficulty of obtaining roots, it gradually declined. This doubtless is the explanation of the comparative scarceness of Eryngium maritinum on the Essex coast. It is clear from Ray’s statement that it was formerly abundant: it cannot be called abundant now, but plants may be found at Clacton and Harwich, on the shores of Mersea Island, and where old Gerarde noticed it in the sixteenth century, at Landamer lading.

II

A SURREY PLATEAU

"The tribes who then lived on her breast,

 Her vigorous primitive sons."

—MATTHEW ARNOLD.

THE fastidious young man of Miss May Kendall’s poem who owned the scenery was grand, but objected to the cliffs because they were Laurentian and not Pleistocene might, it is possible to think, find scenery and deposits to his liking on a certain plateau near the escarpment of the North Downs. There he could inspect thick beds of gravel, the flints much rolled and often of considerable size, reputed to be of either pre-glacial or early Pleistocene age, while scattered over the surface in other parts may be traced the old Southern Drift containing, with the rolled and subangular flints, pieces of chert from the Lower Green-sand beds which are now separated from the Chalk by a valley 300 feet deep, the gravels having been deposited before the vast intervening hollow was formed. It would not be necessary to conduct this imaginary youth to the edge of the Chalk escarpment and point out the physical features of the country, due chiefly to the action of rain and rivers acting on the Greensands and the Gault, or to explain that his favourite Pleistocene rocks are comparatively recent accumulations, often of great thickness, and, where fossiliferous, contain shells belonging to existing species and remains of mammals, many of which are extinct or now resident in colder and warmer countries.—One small section here displayed contains the characteristic molluscan fauna of late Pleistocene age—land and freshwater shells, some of which are now rare or extinct in the neighbourhood. But these somewhat recent beds are limited in area, and the newest are on the edges of a depression which in prehistoric times was probably a diminutive lake which existed when the rounded pebbles were deposited by some temporary torrential stream in their present position. The present-day ponds, though small and shallow, never run dry even during the occurrence of a season like the rainless summer of 1906.

"We have no waters to delight

Our broad and brookless vales—

Only the dewpond on the height

Unfed, that never fails."

In the spring they are white with the pretty little flowers of the Ranunculus or Water Crowfoot, and later their borders are bright with Forget-me-not and Persicaria and adorned with the bold lance-shaped leaves of the Water Plantain. Certain species of small molluscs, such as the Limnœa, with graceful sharp-pointed spire and wide mouth, and the flat and coiled Planorbis, flourish at the bottom; while the Water Boatman and Skater and other curious creatures disport themselves in coolness and security on the surface.

The chief deposits lying on the most interesting portion of this plateau—a pleasant undulating wind-swept heath of 3,000 acres in area—are a puzzling mixture of sands and clays from what are termed the Lower London Tertiaries, perhaps from the Thanet Sands and Blackheath Pebble beds, which, though originally in position seem to have been disturbed and rearranged unequally over the surface of the eroded chalk. In some small pits are beds of thick red clay capped with small pebbles, and in other sections the sands prevail. Near the chalk outcrop where the Tertiaries are thinner may be seen beds of clay-with-flints, the flints in their original fantastic shapes but with their beautiful combination of lustrous black and sober white altered and discoloured by the solution of the chalk and contact with clay into dirty brown and sooty shades. In a few places white sands are exposed, and from a distance with their background of brown heather almost seem to suggest the familiar image of Snow upon the dusty desert’s face. At one corner of the heath is a small coombe widened and deepened by excavations for flints, which when obtained are sorted and stacked in large rectangular heaps and finally sold as road material. It is pleasant to sit on the edge of this valley and watch the rabbits scamper and tumble to and from their sandy subterranean lairs, in numbers rivalling those at the antipodes, while occasionally the stoat, their chief enemy next to man, with uplifted head peeps round suspiciously and then with leisured pace continues his relentless pursuit of fur and feather. It seems an ideal spot for snakes and adders, but they appear to be rarely seen, though the slow worm, vulgarly classed with them, is common, and its skin and skeleton may often be seen bleaching in the sun. The little lizards with convenient tails may be detected by a quick and accustomed eye as frequently as Grant Allen could find them on his favourite Hindhead. Below on the piled stones wagtails flit, and at their appointed season build soft nests between the crevices and thus secure an original and safe retreat. The old poet in pre-migration days thus sang of the swallow:

"In thy undiscovered nest

Thou dost all the winter rest,"

and most of these nests are as undiscoverable as the swallow’s mythical winter residence or as those of the stonechats and wheatears on the common. In the gorse one can sometimes find the nest and blue eggs of the hedge sparrow, and, rarely, among dark nettles the whitethroat’s thin hairy nest is found, but only the keen eye and untiring enthusiasm of youth could hope to be successful here. The nests of most of the heather-loving birds are hidden too carefully by art and nature amid the thick vegetation, and the eggs of the goatsucker or nightjar are equally well concealed although laid on the bare ground among the small rounded Blackheath pebbles.

Down in the hollow small pinnacles of chalk are visible between masses of brick earth and gravel, and at the deep end on the northern slope is a good exposure of this pure limestone belonging to a zone of the Upper Chalk named after the familiar Echinoderm, Micraster cor-anguinum.

"What is it? A learned man

Could give it a clumsy name."

The characteristic fossils of this zone have been found here, many of course in a fragmentary condition, but others beautifully preserved. The fossil which gives its name to the zone is not rare, the useful guide Echinoconus conicus is scarce, but the most important fossil at this horizon (for it should be stated that the Micraster cor-anguinum is also found in higher zones), namely, the special form of Echinocorys is fairly common and the other associated fossils have yielded to patient search and vigorous hammering. It is obvious that many fine specimens still remain sealed within the iron hills. Around this end of the valley, equidistant from the opposite clumps of sand-grown pines and limestone beeches are traces of the chalk flora such as the bright blue Viper’s Bugloss and Deadly Nightshade which are abundant on the near escarpment. One refuse heap in an old excavation is the local habitat of the rarer and curious Henbane with its peculiar bell or funnel-shaped corolla of dingy yellow prettily pencilled with purple brown veins. It is a sinister-looking plant and plainly suggests its evil nature. The delicate yellow of the Rock Rose and the pink flowers of a few straggling plants of Centaury are reminiscent of the wealth and beauty of these rather neglected flowers in their favourite soils. Except the gorse, which is proverbially ever in bloom, the earliest spring flower here is the leafless Coltsfoot, and a little later the Wood Anemones, continuous as the stars that shine, whiten the spaces between the heather. The tiny Hair Moss (Polytrichum) is common, and still more abundant and beautiful is the Scarlet Cup moss or Cladonia with pale tube-like stems and bright scarlet fruit. Near the open road the Traveller’s Joy scrambles over the hawthorn hedges, its small summer flowers of greenish white developing later on into those feathery sprays of lengthened styles so conspicuous on bare hedge-rows in the winter and likened by the rustics to Old Man’s Beard. But the real victor in the plant struggle for existence is the Heather-Ling (Calluna vulgaris), which keeps the bracken at bay, and confident in its strength and success allows the fine-leaved Heath (Erica Cinerea) to share at intervals a portion of the soil and sunlight.

If this wide and beautiful stretch of country consists of sands, gravels, and clays sufficient to provide the geologist with physiographical and other problems for winter evenings, and he, unlike a certain famous statesman, usually has a weakness for recreation combined with instruction, it also possesses in or near its surface numerous relics of a bygone age over which philosophers may be compelled to ponder for many a century. These relics are the flint implements which under the old classification are styled Neolithic, left by the vanished peoples on the surface of the ground, with the result that in many cases hungry generations tread them down or crush them with the heavy agricultural tools of an iron and industrial age. Here they fell on stony but benevolent ground, to be at once covered by sand and loam and protected for many a thousand years by the slow accumulation of peaty soil. A few years ago we found on the small bare patches left by local turf cutters in the borders of the heath—a veritable Celtic fringe as subsequent proceedings showed—and on the excavated valley slopes, a number of flakes, a delicate saw of white flint, some well worked scrapers and a celt or axehead of unusual type. Every exposure was searched, but as is too frequently the case in likely situations, turf, heather and bracken enjoyed uninterrupted possession of the land. It was known that Roman remains had been previously discovered and the outline of several small camps could be dimly traced, but with regard to the possibility of making additional finds it seemed, in the words of Thomas Hardy, that no sod had been turned since the days of the Cæsars. The narrow paths and trackways of soft short grass looked, at a distance, like green bands between acres of dark interrupted heather. At last, when further search was nearly abandoned, on one budding morrow in our midnight of failure a small body of rough-jacketed genial workmen, doomed to labour and the mattock-hardened hand, suddenly descended on the heath and with welcome energy razed wide strips of the small jungle, ploughed up the tangled mass of roots, and harrowed and cleared the soil. The phrase ploughing the sands is often employed by political humorists to describe unsuccessful attempts at legislation and unremunerative experiments in general of their opponents, but here the saying, like many another of similar origin or appropriation, had little meaning. The plough turned out from the fresh loam numerous implements, which had already lain for centuries just beneath the turf when the Roman legions first tramped along Ermyn Street or pushed over the Downs from Noviomagus. These strenuous semi-agricultural operations were due to the remarkable revival and development of an ancient and royal pastime now enthusiastically followed, even in the absence of anything to kill, by an ever-increasing number of persons who apparently belong to the prosperous classes. The archæologist in anticipation of a bountiful harvest was scarcely in the humour to join in any cry of spoiling the common. Wild nature near London is still something more than a phrase, and many acres of undiscovered country still remain for the nature lover—but good implements in some districts are scarce. The work, conducted with care and skill, unavoidably destroyed the primitive appearance of several hut circles, dug out by the Neolithic people. They have been restored after the manner of certain fine old churches and now possess, no doubt, a peculiar attraction for the golfer or his balls. With this exception very little damage has been done, and but for the making of the links the unwritten history of this area might never have been read. One cannot help being reminded, though, of the recent picturesque remarks by Sir Frederick Treves on the desecration of the ancient Dorset earthwork, Buzbury Rings. The rampart that the Britons built up so laboriously with their horn picks had thus degenerated into a bunker, while into the fosse there drops in place of the stone headed arrow an American golf ball.

Here was an opportunity, which was not missed, of following the plough literally along the freshly turned mould to examine the released flints and rescue the numerous and precious prehistoric trifles for them to rest once more in the possession of men, perhaps of a degenerate race, capable of appreciating their good points. Many specimens were found of the usual types pictured on the pages of the classic Stone Implements or resting on the ill-lighted shelves of museums, and in the convenient cabinets of friends. Scrapers, as usual, were common and of most of the shapes and sizes and colours, rounded, duckbill and horseshoe. Worked flakes or knives lay in company with the numerous untrimmed flakes and cores or nodules from the sides of which they had been probably detached. The instruments employed in this ancient industry, such as hammer-stones, fabricators, and small pointed tools lay scattered around. Several interesting celts were found and a dozen good arrowheads. No polished celts—the implements of the late Neolithic and the Bronze periods—were discovered, but one or two of the chipped celts showed signs of careful work. The majority were extremely rough, merely rude sharp-pointed picks, especially those near the recent valley excavations. The arrowheads were of the usualleaf-shaped, triangular, double barbed and winger varieties, the double-barbed specimen being a particularly fine weapon of light brown flint. Perhaps the rarest and most valuable was one of thin black flint with the ripple-marked working characteristic of the Scandinavian type of implement.

Of man in the earliest period, according to the old classification, no trace has been found on this plateau, i.e., neither ovoid nor pear-shaped implements with any resemblance to the relics of early Palæolithic man of river drift age. To which succeeding period the recorded discoveries belong, is, in our present state of knowledge, a problem not easy of solution. Many of the celts, as we have seen, are very rough; but as the best authorities have so frequently maintained, mere roughness of form unsupported by any other evidence, is no guarantee of antiquity. When found in tumuli, in the vicinity of megalithic monuments, or in caves with associated contemporary fauna there is less difficulty in determining age; but when found alone on or immediately beneath the surface, the only evidence would appear to be form and workmanship. As we are tempted to suggest that a certain proportion of the implements from this district differ from the usual Neolithic types and should be classed with the tools of the later Cave men, we must remember the cautious words of General Pitt-Rivers: Flints found on the surface of the soil cannot be legitimately disconnected from flints of the surface period except by form; and form alone is not conclusive in determining date.

III

DAY-FLYING MOTHS

"But she, God love her! feared to brush

The dust from off its wings."

—WORDSWORTH.

MENTION will first be made of a few kinds that are distinctly sun lovers—Burnets and Foresters, Clearwings, day-flying Hawk Moths, etc.

The most generally distributed kind of Burnet is that known as the Six-spotted, and this is perhaps most abundant near the coast, where it may be found in large colonies in favourable hollows on cliffs, downs, and sandhills. In its inland homes on sheltered hillsides, meadows, and railway banks, it is not much less common. The moth, which has the forewings glossy, deep bluish-green and the six spots thereon of the same crimson colour as the hindwings, flies about somewhat in the manner of a bee. It is fond of settling on thistles and other composite flowers, and sometimes quite a number may be seen resting together. When the sun is obscured they become inactive and may then be easily captured, but directly the sun appears again they are quickly on the alert. The caterpillar, which is a flabby and sluggish sort of creature, is greenish in colour and is marked with black and yellow; it feeds upon clover and bird’s-foot trefoil. The cocoon is most conspicuous, fixed as it usually is about half-way up a grass stem. It is a shuttle-shaped affair, more or less white as regards colour, and of a glistening, papery texture. If one of these cocoons is opened a shining black chrysalis will be found within, or it may happen that the maker of the domicile will then be exposed still in its caterpillar state.

The female moth lays eggs of a yellowish colour in batches, and in large numbers. The caterpillars hibernate and many doubtless perish or fall victims to some foe. Those that survive until the spring are then subject to the attacks of parasitical flies, and the numbers destroyed in this way is sometimes, in hot seasons especially, very large. Even when the chrysalis state is attained without mishap, all danger is not over, as the contents of these cocoons appear to be to the taste of sundry birds, and even mice seem to have cultivated a liking for them. It is perhaps surprising that they escape complete annihilation. They come near such a catastrophe in some years.

Two nearly allied, but rather local, kinds of Burnet Moth have only five crimson spots on the forewings. These are the Broad-bordered and the Narrow-bordered. The former is found in marshes and meadows, and the latter in and around woods.

Three other species are very local. One is the New Forest Burnet and is like a small specimen of the Broad-border. In England it is confined to certain limited areas, of a somewhat marshy character, in the district from which it receives its name. Another species is the Transparent Burnet which is found in localities near the coast in some parts of Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. It was first noticed in Ireland, and was therefore called the Irish Burnet. The third of these very local kinds is the Scotch Burnet, which seems to be peculiar to the Aberdeenshire mountains.

Of the Foresters only three species are known