You quit your old cloak at the Swallow’s behest,
In assurance of summer, and purchase a vest”[204].
Similar time-determinations from natural phenomena are still not entirely neglected by the modern peasant. In Bohuslän (W. Sweden) the sowing-time was at hand when the swallow had come, it was the right sowing-time when the juniper flowered. In northern Scania (S. Sweden) the barley was to be sown when the hawthorn was in bloom. Older people could not give their birthdays but only knew that they were born e. g. at the rye- or potato-harvest, when the cattle were first driven out to pasture (in the spring), etc. My father knew quite well that his birthday was the fifth of September, but when anyone asked him when he was born he would generally answer: ‘When they pick hops’. The Eskimos said that such and such a person was born when eggs were collected or seals caught[205]. From modern Palestine a bond is quoted in which a sum of money was to be paid when next the fakûs (a kind of cucumber) was ripe[206].
We return to the primitive peoples and give first a few examples in which a natural phenomenon serves as the sign of the beginning of one of the longer divisions of the year or of some occupation, generally agriculture. Of the Bushmen we are told that they paid particular attention to the time at which the first thunder-storm broke. They hailed it with great joy since they counted it a sure sign that summer had commenced. In the midst of their excessive rejoicing they tore in pieces their garments of skins, threw them into the air, and danced for several nights in succession. The Garieb Bushmen made great outcries accompanied with dancing and playing upon their drums[207]. The Banyankole of Uganda used the euphorbia trees to guide them as to the nearness of the rainy season: when these trees began to shoot out new growth they knew that the rains were near[208]. The Indians of the Orinoco took great pains to determine the approach of the rainy season, as Gilij relates in a chapter entitled: De segni, che precedon l’inverno[209]. The signs were:—The scream of the Araguato monkeys at midnight or at the approach of day; the sudden bursting into blossom of certain trees; the swelling of the brooks, which almost dry up in summer but swell a few days before the rainy season; the yams which in summer have lost their leaves suddenly grow green again when the rainy season is at hand; finally the heliacal setting of the Pleiades. The tribe of the Bigambul in S. E. Australia reckon the seasons from the blossoming of certain trees. Yerra, for example, is the name of a tree that blossoms in September: this time of the year is therefore called yerrabinda. The apple-tree blossoms at Christmas time, which is called nigabinda. The iron-bark tree blossoms about the end of January, and this time is called wobinda. The height of summer however is named by them ‘the time when the ground burns the feet’: at this time no trees blossom[210]. The natives of New Britain (Bismarck Archipelago) determine the planting-season from the buds of certain trees and from the position of certain stars[211]. In Alu (Solomon Islands) one division of the year is determined from the bloom on the almond, another from the Pleiades[212]. The time for the sun-dance of the Kiowa Indians is determined by the whitening of the down on the cotton-plant[213]. One of the annual festivals of the Society Islands is regulated by the blossoming of the reed[214].
Instances are numerous in which phenomena like those mentioned by Hesiod serve as signs for agricultural labour. The Indians of Pennsylvania say that when the leaf of the white oak, which comes out in spring, is as large as a mouse’s ear it is time to plant maize: they note that the whippoorwill has come by then, and is constantly fluttering round them calling out his Indian name wekolis in order to remind them of planting-time, just as if he were saying ‘hacki heck’, ‘go and plant maize’[215]. Among the Thonga the period in July when the warm weather begins is called shimunu, ‘the little heat’: the mahogany and sala trees become covered with leaves, certain flowers blossom. Winter has passed away, soon the summer will come. When the Thonga woman notes these signs she picks up her hoe and sets off for the hills or the marshes to make the fields ready. In January comes nwebo, the time for the first ears of maize to ripen[216]. Among the Ba-Ronga January is nuebo, the time of the first ripe ears: great pains are taken to keep away the birds from the sorgho fields, and therefore one period is known as ‘the time when the birds are driven away’[217]. When a certain mushroom named kulat bantilong appears in large quantities the Dyaks of S. E. Borneo regard it as a sign that the time for rice-planting has come[218]; among the Malgassi the blossoming of the shrub Vernonia appendiculata in November is regarded in the same way[219]. In New Zealand plants and birds which appear at regular seasons give signs of the approach of the time to begin agricultural labours. Two kinds of migratory cuckoo, Cuculus piperatus and nitens, which appear at Christmas-time on the coasts, mark the period of the first potato-harvest. The flowering of the beautiful Clematis albida reminds the people to dig over the soil for the planting of potatoes, which is done in October[220]. According to the communication of a native, the Basutos reckon time by the changing of the seasons, the birth-times of animals, the annual variation and growth of plants, but also by the stars and the moon[221]. The most curious method is one common among the Hidatsa Indians, who reckon from the development of the buffalo calf in utero[222]. Such signs may also serve to mark off the longer seasons: the Tunguses begin summer with the time when the grayling spawns, and winter with the time when the first good squirrel is caught[223].
The examples hitherto given are only single instances intended to make clear the manner and signification of this method of indicating time. Similar starting-points for reckoning are afforded the whole year through, and as their times are fixed in regard to each other, they may form a sort of calendar. The statements made for the extremely primitive Andamanese give a very characteristic circle of occupations throughout the year, though here we have to do not with names of seasons but with the phenomena and business of the year, which our authority gives according to the European calendar. January: much honey; two kinds of wild fruit ripen and are gathered. February: two other kinds of wild fruit, also a tuber; the inhabitants of the coastal districts catch the dujong and also a few turtles; the older folk make out of bark turtle-nets, cables, and lines for harpoons. March: still another two kinds of wild fruit ripen, wild honey is abundant. April: many visits of neighbouring tribes; fruit is scanty, there is only one kind ripe, the honey is finished, the bread-fruit has not yet ripened. From May to August the ripe bread-fruit forms the principal food. In June many cases of death occur since the men in their boar-hunting expeditions in the forest sleep without shelter. In August certain white caterpillars which live in the decaying tree-trunks are a favourite dish. From August to October boats are built. In November the people are particularly merry. The turtle-catch is productive, the weather is pleasantly cool, there is little rain, and shelter is not necessary. Different tribes visit one another and feast and dance together[224].
How upon such a foundation a number of seasons may be built up is shewn by a comparison with an instructive account referring to the Eskimos of the Ungava district of Labrador. The seasons have distinctive names and are again sub-divided into a great number of shorter seasons. There are more of these during the warmer weather than in winter. The reason is obviously that the summer offers so many changes, and the winter so few. The chief events are the return of the sun, always a sign of joy to the people, the lengthening of the day, the warm weather in March when the sun has attained sufficient height, the melting of the snow, the breaking up of the ice, the open water, the time of birth of various seals, the advent of exotic birds, the nesting of gulls, eider, and other native birds, the arrival of white whales and the whaling season, salmon fishing, the ripening of salmon-berries and other species of edibles, the time of reindeer crossing the river, the trapping of fur-bearing animals, and hunting on land and water for food. Each of these periods has its special name applied to it, although several may overlap each other. The appearance of mosquitoes, sandflies, and horseflies is marked by dates anticipated with considerable apprehension of annoyance[225]. The Eskimos of Greenland reckon from the winter solstice five moons until the time when the nights become so bright that it is impossible to reckon any longer from the moon. Then they reckon by the increasing size of the young of the eider-duck and by the ripening of berries, or along the sea-coast by the departure of the tern and the fatness of the seals; when the reindeer shed the velvet from their horns they know that it is time to move into the winter houses[226].
These smaller seasons have seldom developed into an annual cycle otherwise than among some agricultural peoples[227], unless they have been fitted into the larger seasons. This is the case with the western tribes of the Torres Straits, who also determine the seasons from the stars. In the counting of the seasons they commonly begin with surlal (mid-October to the end of November). This name is given to the turtles when copulating: while in this state they float on the sea and are readily caught. The constellation known as the Shark arises. Everything is dried up, the yams are ripe. The sounding of the first thunder is the sign for planting yams. Raz (December to February) is described as ‘the time of death’, i. e. the season when the leaves die down. The first part of this season is called in Mabuiag duau-urma, ‘the falling of the cashew nuts’. There is an interval of fine weather and the wind is shifty: this coincides with Christmas-time. This is the time when the yams which have been planted begin to sprout. In Muralug this period is called malgui, which is the exact equivalent of our word ‘spring’. The next division is called dob, ‘the last of growing things’, or kusikuki, ‘medusae of the north-west’, the latter name being due to the large numbers of jelly-fish that float on the sea. The runners of the yams now grow. The time immediately after this is called purimugo, in Muralug apagap or keme. The longer season following raz is kuki, (March to May), the time when strong winds blow intermittently from the north-west, accompanied by deluges of rain, and the time of the damp heat. The appearance of the constellation dogai kukilaig (Altair, together with β, γ aquilae) heralded the beginning of this season. It has the sub-divisions kuki, kupa kuki, and gugad arai. The dry season, aibaud, forms the remaining part of the year. The south-west wind, waur, blows steadily: for this reason the first part of this period is known as waur and perhaps merits a distinctive name as much as raz. It is marked by the appearance of the constellation magi Dogai (Vega with β, γ lyrae). Food is abundant and festivals are celebrated. The divisions of aibaud are sasiwaur (‘child’, i. e. lesser south-east), piepe, tati waur (‘father’, i. e. greater south-east), and birubiru, a bird which at this time migrates from New Guinea to Australia[228].
The Kiwai Papuans who dwell on the opposite coast of New Guinea have the same star myths as the inhabitants of the Torres Straits Islands: for them, however, no smaller but only two greater seasons are mentioned[229]; on the other hand they have months[230]. The smaller seasons have clashed with the reckoning by moons, and have surrendered their names to describe the latter. They have therefore in great measure become merged in the counting of the months, which will be dealt with later. The greater seasons on the other hand, on account of their length, could not be merged in the reckoning by months, and these have therefore everywhere remained. The number of the longer seasons varies considerably, and is of course connected not only with the climatic conditions but also with the fundamental phenomena which for one reason or another attract attention; a larger season may also be divided into two or three smaller ones.
It may be taken for granted that all peoples outside the tropics, even where it has not been thought necessary expressly to mention the fact, know the two larger divisions of the year, the warmer and colder seasons. Where the plants die in winter and the trees lose their leaves, or where the snow covers the ground, this great difference becomes especially pronounced and determines the whole mode of life: but even in the sub-tropical regions it is obvious enough. To it corresponds in many parts of the tropics and sub-tropical zones the natural division into a dry and a rainy season. For the division into the summer period of vegetation and winter with its snow and ice it is superfluous to give examples: the above-quoted description of the year of the Labrador Eskimos is a typical instance. Swanton and Boas state that certain Indian tribes of N. W. America divide the year into two equal parts of six months each, summer extending from April to September, and winter from October to March[231]. The Comanches reckon by the cold and the warm seasons[232]. I give a few instances from districts in which a winter of this nature does not exist. Among the Hopi of Arizona the year has two divisions—there seems to be no equivalent to our four seasons—which may be termed the periods of the named and the nameless months: the former is the cold period, the latter is the warm. They may also be called the greater and the lesser periods, since the former begins in August and ends in March[233]. The Zuñi of western New Mexico also divide the year into two periods of six months each[234]. The Chocktaw of Louisiana have the same number of seasons[235]. The natives of Central Australia have names for summer and winter[236].