Ramble along Nature's Highway

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 175, 25 July 1936, Page 6 (Supplement)

Ramble along Nature's Highway

as ill a well-rowed boat," and carrying each stroke to its end with ease. I thought that it flew very differently from the familiar seagulls. The rook (Corvus frugilegus) is the only member, of the crow family which we have in New Zealand. The members of this family, which includes the rook's near relatives (the carrion crow, the hooded or grey crow, the raven and the jackdaw) are generally agreed to be the cleverest birds. Furthermore, the rooks have well-marked social habits, just as men have on such a great scale. The Australian magpies and the New Zealand wattled' crows both belong to families quite closely allied to that of the rooks. Also we have found in New Zealand the remains, of an extinct crow which long ago lived here.

In one paddock I saw six or seven rooks . walking about and making quite a lot of short flights with twisting, diving descents. Further on was a flock of 25 or 30 doing the same among some sheep. When we stopped they flew up with the "caw, caw" about which we had often read. Any other birds would not have been suspicious of the stopping of a ear.

They were jet black, with a greenish sheen on their plumage, and had a White face because of a bare patch round the bill.

Rooks nest together in rookeries, but for most of the year spend the night at a rooeting-place, which is quite apart from the other. There is one well-known rookery near Christchurch, around which I saw rooks once again. No place can be more interesting, particularly since there you hear the rook "words," that is to say, different sounds with particular' meanings'. One word is uttered when the watcher moves suddenly, another when a bird goes too near a neighbour's nest, and so forth. There is most talking, however, at the roosting-place when the business of the summer is over.

A BOTANIST ABROAD. INTO BAVARIA.

By L. M. CRANWELL, M.A.

Botanist, Auckland Museum. IT is a long hop from the mouth of the Rhine to the headwaters of the Danube or Donau. twisting through the pleasant hill country of Bavaria. But let us go, for we are hungry for the mountain air after the flatness of Holland. For hundreds of miles we follow the Rhine—the powerful Rhine, with its reminders of the might of Caesar's legions, the mellow Rhine of song and ripening grapes,.for it is autumn now. We alight at Munich (called Muenehen there, so one naturally adopts that name out of courtesy) glowing with southern warmth. This city by the sparkling Isar is famous for its music, but we are looking for its fine gardens, museums and the wild life of the glacial lakes and the beautiful Benedictine range. I was lucky there, because I picked up several Amsterdam acquaintances —an American, a Canadian, several

Germans, and a particularly delightful man, Dr. Helmut Gams, of Innsbruck, over the border. They were all botanists, of course, but in Europe a.t least that does not suggest narrow interests. These people knew more than I could tell of architecture, paintings, music—and the amber Muenchen beer. Gams was guide and friend to me there, and I never tired of listening to his vivid descriptions of events over thousands of years in this Central Europe setting. I wish such a man could but speak to you, for then history would come to life for you; mountain passes and barriers, rivers and lakes would then be pregnant with meaning for you. as they have always been in the movements of peoples, wild animals and plants. This man spoke 19 languages, yet was gracious and simple withal. His name you should remember, because he is one of the greatest of living botanists, and he may come here one day.

Our first expedition is to the hills, of course, within sight of snowy Tugspitze towering behind Oberamniergau. We run parallel to the shallow snow-waters of fhe lsar, then through patched of beech forest (the German "Daverwald" or "hardwood forest." which in a warmer period Lad also much oak, lime or linden,

and ash), and recent spruce plantations to the great Starnherger Lake, a thing of exquisite beauty. Women do much of the work. They whip up .their animals, smile at us, and always .offer pleasant greetings. They do not think it strange that we should want to wade after water plants (water lilies, "brandy bottles" and the like), or just kneel and look at masses of purple heather on the acid bogs, blue and purple gentians on tall everywhere, white "Grass of Parnassus," waving reedmace and carpets' of autumn crocus. Thej' belong to the land, too, and they love everything on it.

. It is a joy, to know Bavaria a little, to have memories of the people, the white chu' Aes with their black domes, the ever-tinkling bells, the brown and white houses,, the trees and the flowers, but oh, especially the flowers! The grass is simply thronged with these autumnflowering gentians and crocuses. How can I tell you of their beauty? The photograph will at least give some idea of themauve crocus, the meadow saffron, whose' seeds and conns (swollen stem bases) are used as a cure for gout.

In a flower petals and sepals together form the perianth, or attractive part: in this crocus they are joined to form a long, slender tube, on which the golden stamens are inserted. The pistil runs the whole length, however, and the ovary, where the seeds develop, is hidden right inside the young part of the conn. There they are protected from frost and winter rains, but in the spring the ripe capsule scoots above the ground, and then the seeds are scattered. Is this not a remarkable adaptation to ensure the safety of the precious seeds? Although these plants are as abundant there as stars in our southern sky, yet they do not like to be transplanted. A friend who moved them from Switto his garden in Sweden wrote to me: "They smiled a kind of 'pale' smile and refused to live with me." '