Adventures of a Young Naturalist
is cultivated, in order to extract from it the coloring matter commonly
known under the name of _indigo_.
"But how do they manage," asked Lucien, "to obtain from a plant those
dark-blue stones that I have seen sold in the market?"
"About the month of March," I answered, "are gathered the fresh leaves
of the indigo-plant, which is one of the leguminous family, and pound
them in mortars made out of the trunks of trees. The sap which results
from these leaves, when subjected to a heavy pressure, is of a greenish
tinge, and sometimes even colorless; it does not become blue until after
fermentation in the open air. The Indians then boil it in an immense
copper, and, the water evaporating, the indigo is left in the form of a
soft and gelatinous paste, which is subsequently dried in the sun."
On approaching the foot of the mountain, I found that it would be
impossible for us to climb it the next day, the slope being too steep. I
sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, when I detected a very decided
smell of roses. Under the bark of a log _esquina_ Lucien had discovered
five or six beautiful insects of an azure-blue color, with red feet;
these insects are very common in the sandy soils of Tehuacan, and are
used by the ladies of that district to perfume their linen. Delighted at
this discovery, Lucien continued his search, hoping to find some more
specimens which he intended to take to his mother. He was kneeling down
and working energetically, when he pointed out to me an enormous
caterpillar.
It was of an emerald-green color, and had on its back a row of little
projections like small trees, symmetrically arranged. These were of a
brilliant red, terminating in shoots the same color as the animal's
body.
"What a curious creature!" cried Lucien; "it looks as if it carried a
garden on its back; what use are all these bushes?"
"It is not known, and it is a curious fact that the butterfly which
springs from the caterpillar shows no trace of all this
strangely-arranged hair."
"Will a butterfly come from this caterpillar?"
"Yes, certainly; all butterflies lay eggs, from which proceed
caterpillars, which generally destroy the plants on which they are
hatched. When arrived at maturity, the caterpillar spins a cocoon of
silk, more or less fine, in the centre of which it incloses itself. It
is then called a _chrysalis_. In this cocoon the butterfly is formed,
either white or black, yellow or green, and there it remains inactive
and imprisoned, like a baby in swadding-clothes. In spring it perforates
its silken prison, and soon makes its escape a splendid butterfly,
subsisting upon the juices of the flowers obtained through its
proboscis. Surely you were not ignorant of all these transformations?"
"I thought that they only took place in silk-worms."
"Well, now you are undeceived; all caterpillars and all butterflies are
subject to them; but there are few caterpillars which spin so valuable a
cocoon as the silk-worm. Moreover, some bury themselves in the earth;
while others hide in the middle of a leaf, the edges of which they curl
round so as to form a kind of bag, in which they are protected from the
beaks of birds; again, some hollow out a shelter in the trunk of a tree,
and line their abode with silk more or less fine. Thus, in every case,
the chrysalis waits patiently for the time when it will change from a
worm into a butterfly, painted with the richest colors."
The subject was really an inexhaustible one, so I deferred the rest of
my explanations to another day. Besides, l'Encuerado was loudly calling
for us.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SENSITIVE-PLANT.--GRINGALET AND THE PORCUPINE.--THE MEXICAN
CHAMELEON.--THE KITE AND THE FALCON.--AN AMPHISBAENA SNAKE.--A COUNCIL OF
TURKEYS.
Lucien, seated on the grass, amused himself with touching all the plants
within reach of his travelling staff; suddenly he noticed that the
branches and leaves of a small shrub shut up when he brushed them with
his stick, just like the ribs of a parasol, moved by some invisible
spring--it was a _sensitive-plant_.
He called to us to ask for an explanation of this phenomenon, so we
assembled round the shrub, which was about three feet high; its leaves
finely cut and of a delicate green color, with pink flowers in tufts
half hidden among them. The leaves, touched by the stick, shrank up
close to the parent stem, and the oval, slender, and delicate ones,
rising on their stalks, pressed against one another. In about five
minutes the leaves which had been rubbed again spread out, as if they
had recovered from their fright.
It was, however, only for a short time; for Lucien amused himself by
rubbing his fingers over the leaves, which immediately doubled up, as if
offended by the slight touch. The Indians call it the "Bashful Plant." A
blow struck on the principal stem is sufficient to make all the branches
close, as if animated by a kind of modest feeling. When the sun sets,
the sensitive plant spontaneously shuts up its delicate foliage, which
does not open again freely until the return of day.
Lucien's first idea, at waking, was to run towards the shrubs which
interested him the day before. They were covered with dew, and looked as
if they were asleep, until the first rays of the sun fell upon them.
Before we started, the young naturalist again tested the delicate
sensibility of the plant, which Sumichrast told him was allied to the
tree which produces gum-arabic.
L'Encuerado's cheek was less swollen, and Sumichrast could use his hand,
although it still pained him. The mountain in front of us, which was too
steep to climb, caused us some perplexity.
"Let us slant off to the left, over this moist ground, carpeted with
turf," said Sumichrast, plunging into the thicket.
About midday, just as l'Encuerado was declaring, in a grumbling tone,
that we ought to have inclined towards the right, our little troop
entered the wood. An undulating slope led us to a summit not more than
twenty yards across, and in less than half an hour the opposite descent
brought us into a delicious glen.
"Hallo! Master 'Sunbeam,'" cried Sumichrast, while helping me to
construct our hut, "don't you recollect you are the one to provide the
fire?"
"All right," replied Lucien, who seemed to be lost in the contemplation
of a dead branch; "I want to get hold of an insect which appears to be
making, like us, natural-history collections, for I have just found in
its nest a quantity of spiders, flies, and small worms."
"It is one of the _Hymenoptera_," said Sumichrast; "it collects all
round its eggs the food the young will eat when they are hatched; the
insect is therefore full of forethought--a good example for us to
imitate."
When the fire was ready, we started off in light marching order to
explore the vicinity of our bivouac. Our position was commanded by
mountains on all sides, and the glen was scarcely a quarter of a league
in length. The pleasant coolness, and the presence of numerous birds,
led us to hope that we should meet with a spring, which was all that was
needed to convert this remote corner of the world into a perfect
paradise. But our exploring only led to the discovery of a greenish
pool, sheltered by an enormous rock, and which the dry season would soon
evaporate.
Gringalet's barking attracted our attention towards the forest, and I
perceived a porcupine on a tree. The animal, sitting up on its hind
feet, was looking at us with astonishment. Leaving it undisturbed, it
appeared to forget us, and tearing off with its claws a piece of bark,
it licked the inner side, which was doubtless covered with insects.
Having repeated this operation several times, the animal advanced to the
end of a branch, and seizing it with its prehensile tail, let itself
down to the ground. Its large black eyes, of unusual mildness, were
widely opened, and its nose slit like hares and rabbits. It was just
about to stretch itself, when, to our great regret, l'Encuerado shot it;
the poor beast fell over on the ground, and placing its hand-shaped
paws on the wound, rolled itself up into a ball at the foot of a tree.
Gringalet darted forward to seize it, and then immediately retreated,
howling with pain; he came back to us with his muzzle bristling with the
porcupine's quills, which were about two inches long and finely pointed.
The unfortunate dog rubbed his nose against the ground in order to get
relief, but, of course, this only increased his pain. Lucien ran to help
him, and at last succeeded in extracting them.
"Have you lost your senses?" asked l'Encuerado of the dog, while washing
the poor beast's nose and mouth. "The idea of trying to bite a
_huitzttacuatzin_! Upon my word, I thought you knew better than that. No
doubt it's a good thing to be brave, but you must manage to be less
stupid when you are in the forests of the _Terre-Chaude_, unless you
want to be devoured by a tiger, or scratched to pieces by an ant-eater."
After listening to l'Encuerado's speech, Lucien scolded him for firing
at the poor animal, and then joined us, close to the porcupine, which
was dying. It was about the size of a fox, and its fore paws were
furnished with four toes armed with claws. This animal, which is slow of
pace and entirely inoffensive, spreads round it a sickening musky odor.
It lives on fruit, roots, and insects, and, aided by its prehensile
tail, climbs trees with great skill. It but rarely tries to make its
escape at the approach of the hunter, who, moreover, utterly despises
such worthless game.
L'Encuerado reminded us that we had now been travelling twelve days, and
that it was the first Sunday in May. We should have devoted it to rest
if our morning's hunting had been successful; but, unless we contented
ourselves with a dinner composed only of rice, we were obliged to shoot
some eatable bird or animal to fill our stew-pot. We heard some doves
cooing, and l'Encuerado went off alone in the direction of the sound,
for these birds are difficult of approach. Gringalet, notwithstanding
our calls, ran after the Indian.
Lucien climbed the rock which hung over the pool, and made signs for me
to come to him, saying, in a low voice,
"Papa, come and look at this strange animal."
I also climbed up, and found lying on the top a Mexican chameleon, a
kind of round-shaped lizard, with a brown skin dotted over with yellow
spots, which seemed to change color in the light. Lucien tried to catch
the graceful reptile, which, however, glided between his fingers and
disappeared behind the rock.
The Mexican chameleon lives only in the woods and among the rocks. It
chiefly delights in the oak forests, where the dark color of its body
blends with the hue of the dry leaves, and enables it to lie
successfully in ambush for the insects on which it feeds. Sumichrast,
who had succeeded in taming a chameleon, told us that the reptile's
throat, which was white during the daytime, assumed during the night a
dark hue; also, that it liked to be caressed, and became familiar enough
to take from his hand the flies which were offered it. The Indians, who
hold the animal in great dread when alive, are in the habit of wearing
its dried body as an amulet against the "evil eye."
From our lofty observatory we were looking at the beautiful birds which
occasionally flew across the plain, when Sumichrast suddenly fired. He
had caught sight of a fine magpie, of an ashy-blue color, with its head
crowned by a tuft; its throat appeared as if it were bound round with
black velvet, a peculiarity which has obtained for it from the Indians
the name of the "commander bird." Lucien came down from the rock to go