ORPHEUS AT THE ZOO.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] SIR,—In your article, "Orpheus at the Zoo," in the Spectator of October 3rd, the tarantula's non-appreciation of music is contrasted with the scorpion's very sensitive ear for the violin. I have studied the habits of the scorpion for many years, and have often noticed how very sensitive scorpions are to the most delicate sound, musical or otherwise. Under the thorax -the scorpion has two comb-like appendages, which are the antennae (pectinatm). It is pretty well settled by physiologists and entomologists that in insects the antennw represent the organs of hearing. These delicate structures are easily affected by the vibrations of sound, and there can be no doubt -whatever that they are also affected by sounds quite inaudible -to the human ear. The slightest vibration of the atmosphere, from any cause whatever, at once puts in motion the delicate structures which compose the antennte, to which organs insects owe the power of protecting themselves against danger, as well as the means of recognising the approach of one another. Spiders have wonderful eyesight, but I am quite sure that the scorpion's vision, notwithstanding his six eyes, is far from being acute. It is very difficult to catch a spider with a pair of forceps, but a scorpion can be easily captured, if no noise is made. Spiders see their prey before they are caught in the web ; but the scorpion makes no movement whatever to seize flies or cockroaches until they indicate their whereabouts by movements. This being the case, it can readily be understood how easily the scorpion may be roused into motion by the vibrations of musk, as described in the article alluded to. If a tuning-fork be sounded on the table on which I keep my caged scorpion, he at once becomes agitated, and strikes out viciously with his sting. On touching him with the vibrating tuning-fork, he stings it, and then coils himself up, as scorpions do when hedged in. In Jamaica, the Negroes believe that scorpions
know their name ; so they never call out, "See, a scorpion, when they meet with one on the ground or wall, for fear of his escaping. They thus indirectly recognise the scorpion's delicate appreciation of sound ; but if you wish to stop a scorpion in his flight, blow air on him from the mouth, and he at once coils himself up. I have repeatedly done this ; but with a spider it has a contrary effect. Music charms a snake into silence, as the experiments at the Zoo and elsewhere prove ; but the agitated contortions and writhings of the scorpions when roused by the sound of the violin only prove that they are roused by the vibrations of sound caused by music, and this would happen if they were disturbed by the discordant sounds of a penny-trumpet, or any other unmusical
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