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to their existence (Pl. XIII.). Still higher, approaching the
climatic limit of vegetable life, the struggle for existence is
mainly carried on by the æsthetic rivalry of lowly but
conspicuous blossoms.
As regards the conditions of insect life in the higher alps, it
came to my notice in a very striking manner that vast numbers of
such bees and butterflies as venture up perish in the cold of
night time. It appears as if at the approach of dusk these are
attracted by the gleam of the snow, and quitting the pastures,
lose themselves upon the glaciers and firns, there to die in
hundreds. Thus in an ascent of the Tödi from the Fridolinshüte we
counted in the early dawn sixty-seven frozen bees, twenty-nine
dead butterflies, and some half-dozen moths on the Biferten
Glacier and Firn. These numbers, it is to be remembered, only
included those lying to either side of our way over the snow, so
that the number must have mounted up to thousands when integrated
over the entire glacier and firn. Approaching the summit none
were found. The bees resembled our hive bee in appearance, the
butterflies resembled the small white variety common in our
gardens, which has yellow and black upon its wings. One large
moth, striped across the abdomen, and measuring nearly two inches
in length of body, was found. Upon our return, long after the
sun's rays had grown strong, we observed some of the butterflies
showed signs of reanimation. We descended so quickly to avoid the
inconvenience of the soft snow that we had time for no
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close observation on the frozen bees. But dead bees are common
objects upon the snows of the alps.
These remarks I noted down roughly while at Linthal last summer,
but quite recently I read in Natural Science[1] the following
note:
"Late Flowering Plants.—While we write, the ivy is in flower, and
bees, wasps, and flies are jostling each other and struggling to
find standing-room on the sweet-smelling plant. How great must be
the advantage obtained by this plant through its exceptional
habit of flowering in the late autumn, and ripening its fruit in
the spring. To anyone who has watched the struggle to approach
the ivy-blossom at a time when nearly all other plants are bare,
it is evident that, as far as transport of pollen and
cross-fertilization go, the plant could not flower at a more
suitable time. The season is so late that most other plants are
out of flower, but yet it is not too late for many insects to be
brought out by each sunny day, and each insect, judging by its
behaviour, must be exceptionally hungry.
"Not only has the ivy the world to itself during its flowering
season, but it delays to ripen its seed till the spring, a time
when most other plants have shed their seed, and most edible
fruits have been picked by the birds. Thus birds wanting fruit in
the spring can obtain little but ivy, and how they appreciate the
ivy berry is evident
[1] For December, 1892, vol. i., p. 730.
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