Wednesday, 31 August 2011
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Selbourne, September 2 1774.
At first we attempted to dig them out with a spade, but without any great success; for either we could not get to the bottom of the hole, which often terminated under a great stone; or else, in breaking up the ground, we inadvertently squeezed the poor insect to death. Out of one so bruised we took a multitude of eggs, which were long and narrow, of a yellow colour, and covered with a very tough skin. By this accident we learned to distinguish the male from the female; the former of which is shining black, with a golden stripe across his shoulders; the latter is more dusky, more capacious about the abdomen, and carries a long sword-shaped weapon at her tail, which probably is the instrument with which she deposits her eggs in crannies and safe receptacles.
Where violent methods will not avail, more gentle means will often succeed; and so it proved in the present case; for, though a spade be too boisterous and rough an implement, a pliant stalk of glass, gently insinuated not the caverns, will probe their windings to the bottom, and quickly bring out the inhabitant; and thus the humane inquirer may gratify his curiosity without injuring the object of it. It is remarkable that, though these insects are furnished with long legs behind, and brawny thighs for leaping, like grasshoppers; yet when driven from their holes they show no activity, but crawl along in a shiftless manner, so as easily to be taken: and again, though provided with a curious apparatus of wings, yet they never exert them when there seems to be the greatest occasion. The males only make that shrilling noise perhaps out of rivalry and emulation, as is the case with many animals which exert some sprightly note during their breeding time: it is raised by a brisk friction of one wing against the other. They are solitary beings, living singly male or female, each as it may happen: but there must be a time when the sexes have some intercourse, and then the wings may be useful perhaps during the hours of night. When the males meet they will fight fiercely, as I found by some which I put into the crevices of a dry stone wall, where I should have been glad to have made them settle. For though they seemed distressed by being taken out of their knowledge, yet the first that got possession of the chinks would seize upon any that were obtruded upon them with a vast row of serrated fangs. With their strong jaws, toothed like the shears of a lobster's claws, they perforate and round their curious regular cells, having no fore-claws to dig, like the mole-cricket. When taken in hand I could not but wonder that they never offered to defend themselves, though armed with such formidable weapons. Of such herbs as grow before the mouths of their burrows they eat indiscriminately; and on a little platform, which they make just by, they drop their dung; and never, in the day-time, seem to stir more than two or three inches from home. Sitting in the entrance of their caverns they chirp all night as well as day from the middle of the month of May to the middle of July; and in hot weather, when they are most vigorous, they make the hills echo; and in the stiller hours of the season, their notes are more faint and inward; but becoming louder as the summer advances, and so die away by degrees.
Sounds do not always give us pleasure according to their sweetness and melody; nor do harsh sounds always displease. We are more apt to be captivated or disgusted with the associations which they promote, than with the notes themselves. Thus the shrilling of the field-cricket, though sharp and stridulous, yet marvelously delights some hearers, filling their minds with a train of summer ideas of everything that is rural, verdurous, and joyous.
About the tenth of March the crickets appear at the mouths of their cells, which they then open and bore, and shape very elegantly. All that ever I have seen at that season were in their pupa state, and had only the rudiments of wings, lying under a skin or coat, which must be cast before the insect can arrive at its perfect state (We have observed that they cast these skins in April, which are then seen lying at the mouths of their holes.) From whence I should suppose that the old ones of last year do not always survive the winter. In August their holes begin to be obliterated, and the insects are seen no more till spring.
Not many summers ago I endeavored to transplant a colony to the terrace in my garden, by boring deep holes in the sloping turf. The new inhabitants stayed some time, and fed and sung; but wandered away by degrees, and were heard at a further distance every morning; so that it appears that on this emergency they made use of their wings in attempting to return to the spot from which they were taken.
One of these crickets, when confined in a paper cage and set in the sun, and supplied with plants moistened with water, will feed and thrive, and become so merry and loud as to be irksome in the same room where a person is sitting: if the plants are not wetted it will die.
Source: Gilbert White. The Natural History of Selbourne, 1788.
Post script: The Natural History Museum says that this is now one of the rarest insects in the British Isles and it was restricted to only one site (Near Coates Castle) by 1988. However a captive breeding programme at the London Zoo had been successful in establishing two more separate populations by 1990, and I think I read somewhere that there are now a total of five populations.
Friday, 26 August 2011
Thursday, 25 August 2011
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Monday, 22 August 2011
Sunday, 21 August 2011
Saturday, 20 August 2011
Friday, 19 August 2011
Thursday, 18 August 2011
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
Saturday, 13 August 2011
Monday, 8 August 2011
Extremes touch each other. Since the Cretan Epimenides said: 'All Cretans are liars,' philosophers have built a discipline out of such paradoxes. In trying to resolve this particular one Bertrand Russell said he was reduced to 'wandering the common at night and staring at a blank sheet of paper by day'. I don't know what he concluded but Samuel Butler decided one one thing was certain, which was that nothing is certain. Including that it is not certain, that nothing is certain. When I was in my thirties I knew so much as to be sure of nothing anymore and could hardly express an opinion of any sort for a decade. The same ambiguities apply to the visual paradox. Now you see it, now you don't. Possibilities are shown to be impossible, and impossibilities probable. Although some of us find conundrums exceedingly irritating, this could be because they pose an unwelcome challenge to our perceptual apparatus - they are not unimportant. They remind us forcibly that things are not necessarily what they seem. "Art is a lie,' Picasso slyly explained, 'that makes us realise the truth.'
Sunday, 7 August 2011
Sometimes our attention becomes focussed on not an object but its shadow.
I came into the lounge one sunny morning recently and the low light angle striking a model beetle I'd made, suddenly helped me see not it, but its cast shadow. This in turn made me remember this photo by André Kertész I'd seen once.
Friday, 5 August 2011
Thursday, 4 August 2011
Booking reference: --
Regarding bookings 0412707-11C1-ROAHAS
Hello Naked Bus. I cannot make the journey Rotorua - Hastings - Rotorua this week and want to change it to the same days of the week in SIX WEEKS time: that is: September 7th Rotorua to Hastings, and back September 11th Hastings to Rotorua.
But, frustratingly I cannot make the booking change because the booking page will not load , and when I try to phone the call will not go through either. I guess this might have something to do with all the snow...?
Unfortunately in less than two hours my 24 hours before the journey will expire and I am very concerned to get this changed before then as obviously I don\'t want to lose out on my money.
This is by way of ensuring there i s a record that I\'ve tried to do this. Please respond to my email address. Thanks.