Tropic Days | Page 8

trees overhang the fence, the top
wire is used as a highway. When a gate is opened traffic is suspended.
In a minute or two of a busy day there will be considerable gatherings
on the latch-style, and if the intervening space is narrowed by the swing
of the gate the impatient insects begin to make a living bridge across
the perilous gap. At one particular gate, which is opened and shut many
times a day, it has been noticed that the ants never seem to resent
interruptions or to be vexed by them. If they happen to get on the hands
or fingers, they submit to be restored to the gate; but go to the
formicary on the mango-tree half a dozen yards away and offer a
friendly finger, and you will find dozens of pugnacious individuals
ready to defend their home. Do they recognise that they are but
pilgrims of the fence, enjoying certain rights on sufferance, that it is a
path of peace on which belligerents must not intrude, a neutral tract
under the custody of the law of nations, which ants, as well as men,
must respect? Whatsoever the reason, the deportment of the truculent
ant on the highway is that of an upholder of peace at any price. It is to
be doubted if the animal world holds more illustrious examples of
heroism than a green tree-ants' nest. Two or three individuals may be

despised as long as their assaults are confined to the less sensitive parts
of the body; but let a huge colony up among the branches of an
orange-tree be disturbed, and the first army corps instantly mobilised,
and it will not be cowardly hastily to retreat. So eager for the fray are
the warriors, so well organised, so completely devoted to the
self-sacrificing duty of protecting the community, that two distinct
methods of advance and attack are exercised forthwith in the midst of
what appears to be calamitous confusion. Swarming on the extremity of
the branches among which the formicary is constructed, the defenders,
projecting their terminal segments as far into space as possible, eject
formic acid in the direction of the enemy. Like shrapnel from machine
guns, the liquid missile sweeps a considerable area. Against the
sunlight it appears as a continuous spray, and should one infinitesimal
drop descend into the eye the stoutest mortal will blink. Attacks are
made singly and in detachments. Heroes actually hurl themselves from
the branches, and, failing to reach the enemy, run along the ground and,
scaling his legs, inflict punishment on the first convenient patch of
unprotected skin. Detachments muster in blobs, fall in a mass to the
ground, and charge. If one of these forlorn hopes happens to be
successful, the observant man will retire with little of his dignity
remaining.
It is interesting to note how readily birds acquire tastes for the sweet
fruits which man cultivates. One of the honey-eaters, the diet of which
ranges from nectar to the juice of one of the native cucumbers, as bitter
as colocynth, has become an ardent advocate for the thorough ripening
of bananas. While on the plant the fruit is not appreciated, but after the
bunch has been hung for a week or so and the first fruits are changing
colour the bird is enthusiastic. Formerly bunches were ripened in a
thatched building for the the most part open, and the bird got the very
best of the bunch. Now the process takes place where the bird has to
venture through wire-netting. It has no fear, entering without ceremony,
loudly complaining when inadvertently disturbed, and flying to other
parts of the house to express remonstrance when the supply is
exhausted.
Scarcity of surface-water sharpens the powers of observation of some
birds and increases the trustfulness of certain species towards human
beings in a region wherein they are held to have rights on equality with

those of their superiors in the animal world. For years, during the few
weeks which generally intervene between the disappearance of
accustomed water reserves and the beginning of the wet season, with its
super-abundance, the metallic starlings have been wont to obtain
refreshment from a hollow far up a huge tea-tree, the supply in which
seemed to be inexhaustible. The tyrant's plea, necessity, ordained the
destruction of the never-failing tree, and now the starlings descend by
the hundred into the deep and shady ravine whence water is pumped,
and drink also from the cattle-trough and bathe therein with noise and
excitement of happy children on the beach. It is quite within the mark
to compute the starlings by the hundred. The trough is edged nearly all
day long by thirsty or dirty birds, while scores sit round among the
shrubs waiting turn and commenting on the frolics and splashings of