AUTUMN: March and April.—It will be understood from what has been previously stated as to the divisions of the seasons in the Imèrina province that, as with the seasons in England, there is some variety in different years in the times when they commence and finish. Generally, both crops of rice—the earlier and the later—are all cut by the end of April, although in the northern parts of the province it is usually five or six weeks after that date. But if the rains are late, and should happen to be scanty in February and March, harvest work is still going on at the end of May. In fact, owing to there being these two crops of rice, with no very exactly marked division between the two, autumn, in the sense of rice harvest, is going on for about four months, and sometimes longer, as just mentioned, and extends over the later months of summer as well as the two months of autumn or Fàraràno (March and April). In January those portions of the great rice-plain which lie north-west of the capital, as well as many of the lesser plains and valleys, become golden-yellow in hue, very much indeed like the colour of an English wheat-field in harvest-time; and after a few days patches of water-covered field may be noticed in different places, showing where the crop has been cut, and the few inches of water in which it was growing show conspicuously in the prospect. As the weeks advance, this water-covered area extends over larger portions of the rice-plain, until the whole of the early crop has been gathered in, so that in many directions there appear to be extensive sheets of water. I well remember, when once at Ambòhimanàrina, a large village to the north-west of Antanànarìvo, how strange it appeared to see people setting out to cross what seemed a considerable lake. But of course there was no danger, as the water was only a few inches deep.

As there are channels to conduct water to every rice-field, small canoes are largely used to bring the rice, both before and after it has been threshed, to the margin of the higher grounds and nearer to the roads. At the village just mentioned, which is like a large island surrounded by a sea of rice-plain, there is one point where a number of these channels meet and form quite a port; and a very animated scene it presents at harvest-time, as canoe after canoe, piled up with heaps of rice in the husk, or with sheaves of it still unthreshed, comes up to the landing-place to discharge its cargo.

In a very few weeks’ time the watery covering of the plain is hidden by another green crop, but not of so bright and vivid a tint as the fresh-planted and growing rice. This is the kòlikòly, or after-crop, which sprouts from the roots of the old plants. This is much shorter in stalk and smaller in ear than the first crop, and is often worth very little; but if the rains are late, so that there is plenty of moisture, it sometimes yields a fair quantity, but it is said to be rather bitter in taste.

In cutting the rice the Malagasy use a straight-bladed knife; and, as the work proceeds, the stalks are laid in long curving narrow lines along the field, the heads of one sheaf being covered over by the cut ends of the stalks of the next sheaf. This is done to prevent the ears drying too quickly and the grain falling out before it reaches the threshing-floor. This last-named accessory to rice-culture is simply a square or circle of the hard red earth, kept clear from grass and weeds, sometimes plastered with mud, and generally on the sloping side of the rising ground close to the rice-field. Here the sheaves are piled round the threshing-floor like a low breastwork. (Occasionally the rice is threshed in a space in the centre of the rice-field, mats being spread over the stubble to prevent loss of the grain.) No flail is used, but handfuls of the rice-stalks are beaten on a stone fixed in the ground, until all the grain is separated from the straw. The unhusked rice is then carried in baskets to the owner’s compound and is usually stored in large round pits with a circular opening dug in the hard red soil. These are lined with straw, and the mouth is covered with a flat stone, which is again covered over with earth; and in these receptacles it is generally kept dry and uninjured for a considerable time.

In most years the end of April and the beginning of May are very busy times with the Malagasy; almost all other work must give way to the getting in of the harvest; the fields are everywhere dotted over with people reaping; most of the poorer people we meet are carrying loads of freshly cut grain on their heads, or baskets filled with the unhusked rice, and large quantities are spilt along the roads and paths. Some of the chief embankments swarm with rats and mice, which must pick up a very good living at this time of the year. Other creatures also take toll from the harvest, especially the Fòdy, or cardinal-bird, the bright scarlet plumage of the cock-bird making a very noticeable feature of the avi-fauna during the warmer months. This colour is not seen on the wings, which are sober brown, but is brilliant on head, breast and back; it fades away in the winter months, returning again as the breeding-time comes round. The white egret, which we saw on the coast, is equally in evidence in Imèrina, and sometimes flocks of two or three hundred of them may be seen in the rice-fields and marshes. When living at Ambòhimànga we used to notice that in the winter months a large number of the Vòrompòtsy were accustomed to assemble on the open down towards sunset; and on a signal apparently given by one of them the whole flock rose and flew slowly away to roost in the large trees to the north-west of the town. The white-necked crow is also plentiful, and is perhaps the most commonly seen bird in Imèrina. On one occasion when walking with a friend near Ambòhimànga, he had his gun and shot one of a small flock of crows near us. For a few seconds there was a dead silence, and then all the others filled the air with hoarse cries and came dashing round us so closely that I feared they would injure our eyes, so angry did they seem with those who had killed their companion. One of the most beautiful birds to be seen is the Vintsy, or kingfisher, of lovely purplish-blue, with yellow and buff breast and belly. With short blunt tail and long beak, it may be seen perched on the rushes or other aquatic plants, or darting over the streams and marshes, flying in a curious jerking manner, like a flash of purple light, pursuing the insects which form its food.

From what has been already said about rice-culture it may be easily understood that it occupies a large amount of the time and attention of the Malagasy. The digging and preparation of the ground; the sowing in the kètsa plots; the uprooting of the young plants; the planting, by the women, of these again in the soft mud of the rice-fields; the bringing of water, often from a long distance, to the fields, and the repairing of the water-courses; the weeding of the rice-fields; and, finally, the cutting, the threshing, the bringing home, and the drying and storing of the rice—all this bulks largely in their daily life through a good deal of the year. Rice is the staff of life to the Malagasy, and they cannot understand how Europeans can make a proper meal without it. Mihìnam-bàry, “to eat rice,” is the native equivalent for the Eastern phrase, “to eat bread”; they eat other things of course—manioc root, a little meat or fish, and various vegetables, but these are only laoka or accompaniments to the staple food.

The Malagasy have a saying, when speaking of things which are inseparable, that they are “like rice and water.” And when we remember that rice is sown on water, that it is transplanted in water, that it grows still in water, that it is reaped in water, that it is usually carried by water, in canoes, that it is boiled in water, and that water is generally the only beverage with which it is eaten, it will be seen that there is much force in the comparison.

Besides the above-mentioned additions to rice, the people eat as a relish with it other things, many of them very repulsive to our European notions—for instance, snails, locusts, certain kinds of caterpillars, moths, and even, so it is said, some species of spiders! But I never realised so distinctly what queer things they will eat as when taking a ride one afternoon to the north of Ambòhimànga. Passing along one of the long rice-valleys, we saw some girls dredging for fish in the shallow water; and thinking we might perhaps buy some to take home, we called to them to bring the basket for us to see. They immediately complied, but, on inspecting the contents, we found no fish, but a heap of brown, crawling, wriggling, slimy creatures, really very disgusting in appearance, considered as possible articles of food. This mass of creeping animal life consisted of shrimps, water-beetles, tadpoles, and the larvæ of many kind of insects. It is needless to say that we did not make a purchase of these tempting delicacies; but I believe they would all go into the pot in some Malagasy house that evening and give a relish to the rice of some of our native friends.

The rivers of the interior are singularly deficient in fish of any size; but in the shallow water of the rice-fields numbers of minute shrimps are caught, as well as small fish of the kinds called Tòho and Tròndro, but they are very bony and poor in flavour: somewhat larger kinds, called Màrakèly and Tòhovòkoka, are, however, very good eating, but are not plentiful. Very large and fine eels are caught in the rivers, as well as crayfish, of a kind peculiar to Madagascar. On the water of the streams many kinds of water-beetles and water-boatmen may be seen darting about in mazy circles; one of these, called Tsingàla, causes death if swallowed by cattle or human beings, oxen dying in less than twenty-four hours, unless a remedy is promptly given. The Rev. H. T. Johnson wrote thus about this insect:

No one can pass along the little narrow banks and paths which divide the rice-fields without noticing the large dragonflies which dart over the water. Their colours are very various. A rich crimson, steely-blue and old gold are some of these. They are voracious creatures, as their name implies, and I saw one, one day, deliberately, and audibly, crunching up a smaller one. At another time, however, I noticed a fair-sized one being devoured by a spider, which was barred with lines like a zebra.

The marshes in Imèrina are not useless to the people, for a variety of useful plants grow there and are also planted in them. Among these are the Hèrana, a sedge which grows to three or four feet in height, and is extensively used for thatching native houses. If the roof is a proper pitch this sedge is very durable, and when cut and trimmed has a very neat appearance. Then there is the Zozòro, a much taller sedge, closely allied to the papyrus, with a triangular stem, and a feathery head of flowers. The strong tough peel is used to make the excellent mats employed for flooring, and also all sorts and sizes of baskets; the pith is used for stuffing pillows and mattresses; and the stems firmly fixed together are used for temporary doors and window shutters, and for beds. A rush, called Hàzondràno, is employed for making baskets and mats.

As the colder weather advances, the mornings are often foggy, at least a thick white mist covers the plains and valleys soon after the sun rises and remains for an hour or two until his increasing power disperses it. Seen from the higher grounds and from the most elevated parts of the capital, this mist often presents a very beautiful appearance; a billowy sea of vapour is brilliantly lit up by the sunlight, and out of this sea the hill-tops rise up like islands. But these misty mornings also reveal many things which cannot be seen, or can only be seen by very close observation, in clear sunshine, especially the webs of various species of spider. There they are all the time, but we are not aware of their presence except on a misty autumn or winter morning, when a very delicate thread and filmy net is marked out by minute drops of moisture which reveal all their wonderful beauty of structure. Many kinds of bush are seen to be almost covered by geometrical webs: one species seems to choose the extremities of the branches of the sòngosòngo Euphorbia, but the most common is a web averaging five or six inches in diameter which is spread horizontally on tufts of grass, and may be seen by thousands, half-a-dozen or so in a square yard. This web has a funnel-shaped hole near the centre, with a little shaft leading down to the ground. Near this, the maker and tenant of the structure—a little greyish-brown spider about half-an-inch long—may often be found, if carefully searched for. As the sun gains power, these numerous webs become almost invisible, but before the moisture is all dried from them, they present a beautiful appearance in the sunshine, for they are exactly like the most delicate gauze, studded with numberless small diamonds, flashing with all the prismatic colours as we pass by and catch the light at varying angles.

The most conspicuous of the many species of spider seen in Madagascar is a large Nephila, a creature about an inch and a half long, with a spread of legs six or seven inches in diameter. It is handsomely marked with red and yellow, and may be noticed by scores in the centre of its geometric web stretching across the branches of trees. From the considerable distances spanned by the main guys and supports of its great net, this spider is called by the Malagasy Mampìta-hàdy, or “fosse-crosser”; and these main lines are strong enough to entangle small birds, for at the mission station at Ambàtoharànana a cardinal-bird and a kingfisher were both caught in these nets. The male spider is only about a quarter the size of the female as just described, and, sad to say, he frequently is caught and devoured by his affectionate spouse, after mating. Attempts have been made, and with some success, to employ the silk made by this spider in the manufacture of a woven fabric; but it is very doubtful whether such silk could be procured in such quantities as to be of commercial value.

Silk from the silkworm moth is produced to a considerable extent, and, as we have seen in speaking of native weaving, is employed in manufacturing a variety of handsome làmbas. The moth is a large and beautiful insect, with shades of buff and brown and yellow, and with a large eye-like spot on the hind wings. The caterpillars are fed on the leaves of the mulberry-trees and also on those of the tapia (Chrysopia sp.) shrub. Another moth, somewhat like the silk-producing one in colouring, has an extraordinary development of the hind wings, which have long delicate tail-like appendages; these have extremely narrow shafts and are enlarged at the ends. Their points have two spiral twists or folds, very graceful in appearance. There are four distinct eye-like spots near the centre of each wing, which are light buff in colour, with lemon-yellow. The insect measures eight and a half inches from shoulder to point of tail, and eight inches across the upper wings. It is allied to Tropæa leto. Some species of moth, very dark brown in colour, and yet beautifully marked, often fly into our houses at night, the female being much larger than the male. The Malagasy are afraid of seeing these almost black-looking insects, which they call lòlom-pàty (“death-moths”), in their houses, as they think them presages of evil and death. Another moth, with death’s-head marking on its thorax, is also often seen. But the most beautiful of the Malagasy lepidoptera is a diurnal moth, which one would always call a butterfly—viz. the Urania riphæa, a large and lovely insect, with golden-green, crimson and black markings, and edged all round its wings and tails with delicate pure white. It is a curious fact that the nearest ally to this Madagascar species is a native of Hayti and Cuba (U. sloana), a remarkable instance of discontinuity of habitat. This fact, however, has a parallel in the family of small insectivorous animals called Centetidæ, which are also confined to Madagascar and some of the West India islands. During 1899 this butterfly was unusually abundant, while in some seasons it is seldom seen. At Isoàvina I noticed a great many flying around the tall blue-gum trees in the dusk of the evening. Great numbers also were seen at Ambòhimànga in the garden there. They appeared to be intoxicated with the strong flavour of the nectar from the loquat-trees, then in flower, so that almost any quantity of them could have been captured in the early morning, while still under the influence of the flowers, which have a powerful scent of prussic acid. The Malagasy call it Andrìandòlo—i.e. “king-butterfly.”

In these bare upper highlands of Madagascar butterflies are not found in as great variety as in the warmer regions of the island. Still there are a few species which are common enough, the most plentiful being one which is satiny-blue above and spotted with brown and grey underneath. This is to be seen all the year round, especially hovering over the euphorbia hedges which divide plantations from the roads. Another, also tolerably common, is a large reddish-brown butterfly, the wings edged with black and white. More rare is an insect with four large round white spots on dark chocolate-brown wings; and another, dark brown in colour, with eye-like spots of blue and red. Several small species, yellow, white, or brown, or silvery-grey and blue, are found hovering over, or settling on, damp places; and there are two or three white species, with black spots or lines on the edges of the wings. In the warmer season a handsome large Papilio is rather common in our gardens, with dark green and sulphur-yellow spots and markings. The eggs of some of these are beautiful objects in the microscope, being fluted and sculptured like a Greek vase. My friend, M. Ch. Matthey, who has made large collections of Madagascar insects, tells me that there are a few cases of mimicry and dimorphism, especially the latter, among the butterflies of the interior.

On the open downs, and when the sun is shining, the air is filled with the hum of chirping insect life from the many species of grasshoppers, crickets and small locusts which cover the ground. Every step among the long dry grass disturbs a score of these insects, which leap in all directions from one’s path as we proceed, sometimes dashing on one’s face with a smart blow. The majority of these are of various shades of brown and green, and some of the larger species of grasshopper are remarkable for their protective colouring. Here is one whose legs and wings are exactly like dry grass; the body is like a broad blade of some green plant, the antennæ are two little tufts, like yellow grass, and the eyes are just like two small brown seeds. But, curiously enough, when it flies, a pair of bright scarlet wings make its flight very conspicuous. You pursue it, to catch such a brightly coloured insect, when it settles, and lo! it has vanished, only something resembling green or dry grass remains, which it requires sharp eyes to distinguish from the surrounding herbage. Other grasshoppers are entirely like green grass blades and stalks, and others again resemble, equally closely, dried grass; and unless the insects move under one’s eyes it is almost impossible to detect them. One is puzzled to guess where the vital organs can be placed in such dry-looking little sticks. There is one species of mantis also, which, in the shape and colour of its wings, legs, antennæ and body, presents as close a resemblance to its environment as do the grasshoppers. Their curious heads, however, which turn round and look at one in quite an uncanny manner, and their formidably serrated fore legs or arms, put up in mock pious fashion, give them a distinctly different appearance from the other insects. In the dry and cooler season on almost every square foot of ground is a large brown caterpillar, often many of them close together, feeding on the young blades of grass.

But the most handsome insect one sees on the downs is the Valàlanambòa or dog-locust. This is large and is gorgeously coloured, the body being barred with stripes of yellow and black, while the head and thorax are green and blue and gold, with shades of crimson, and the wings are bright scarlet. It seems a most desirable insect for a cabinet, but it is impossible to keep one, for it has a most abominable smell, and this appears to be its protection, as well as its probable possession of a nauseous taste, so that no bird or other creature feeds upon it. This insect seems therefore a good example of “warning colours”; it has no need of “protective resemblance” lest it should be devoured by enemies; it can flaunt its gay livery without fear, indeed this seems exaggerated in order to say to outsiders, “Hands off!” “Nemo me impune lacessit.” The Malagasy have a proverb which runs thus: “Valàlanambòa: ny tompony aza tsy tia azy”—i.e. “The dog-locust, even its owner dislikes it.”

On the Imèrina downs, and on the outskirts of the forest, there are occasionally seen some enormous earthworms. These are about four times the size, both in length and thickness, of those we see in England; and when I first saw a small group of them they seemed more like small serpents than worms. Darwin’s researches on the part played by earthworms in the renewal of the soil have shown us what a valuable work these humble creatures do for our benefit; and on a morning after a little rain has fallen the grass here in Imèrina is sometimes almost covered by the innumerable little mounds of fresh earth brought up by worms, thus confirming what he has told us about them.

The aspect of vegetation, except in the rice-fields, can hardly be said to change much during the autumn months. A plant with pale yellow flowers may be noticed by thousands in marshy grounds, giving quite a mass of colour in many places. A significant name given to autumn is Ménàhitra—i.e. “the grass is red”—that is, turning brown.

Winter: May, June, July and August.—As already mentioned in the introductory sentences of the previous chapter, winter in central Madagascar is very different from winter in England. We have no snow, nor is there any native word for it, for even the highest peaks of Ankàratra are too low for snow to fall on them; we never see ice (although adventurous foreigners have once or twice seen a thin film of it on pools on the highest hillsides); hoar-frost, however, is not uncommon, and occasionally the leaves of some species of vegetables, as well as those of the banana, turn black with the keen night air. And since there is no rain during our Imèrina winter, the paths are dry, and it is the best time for making long journeys, especially as there is little to be feared from fever when going about at this season of the year. Winter is therefore a pleasant time; the skies are generally clear, the air is fresh and invigorating, and to the cool and bracing temperature of the winter months is doubtless largely due the health and strength which many Europeans enjoy for years together in the central provinces of Madagascar.

The long period without rain at this season naturally dries up the grass, and the hills and downs become parched and brown. Maìntàny—i.e. “the earth is dry”—is one of the native names for this season, and it is very appropriate to the condition of things in general. The rice-fields lie fallow, affording a scanty supply of grass for the cattle; and many short cuts can be made across them in various directions, for the beaten track over embankments, great and small, may be safely left for the dry and level plain.

In travelling about Imèrina, and indeed in the southern central provinces as well, one cannot help noticing the evidences of ancient towns and villages on the summits of a large number of the high hills. These are not picturesque ruins, or remains of buildings, but are the deep fosses cut in the hard red soil, often three or four, one within the other, by which these old villages were defended. These show very conspicuously from a great distance, and are from ten to twenty feet deep; and as they are often of considerable extent they must have required an immense amount of labour to excavate. These elaborate fortifications are memorials of the “feudal period” in central Madagascar, when almost every village had its petty chief or mpanjàka, and when guns and gunpowder were still unknown. These old places are now mostly abandoned for more convenient positions in the plains or on the low rising grounds; and the fosses or hàdy are often capital hunting-grounds for ferns and other wild plants.

Perhaps more noticeable even than the old towns are the old tombs, as well as more modern ones, which meet one’s eye in the neighbourhood of every village. The Hova tombs are mostly constructed of rough stonework, undressed and laid without mortar; they are square in shape, from ten to twenty feet or more each way, and generally of two or three stages of three to four feet high, diminishing in size from the lowest. This superstructure surrounds and surmounts a chamber formed of massive slabs of bluish-grey granitic rock, partly sunk in the ground, and partly above it. In this chamber are stone shelves, on which the corpses, wrapped in a number of silk cloths or làmba, are laid. The tombs of wealthy people, as well as those of high rank, are often costly structures of dressed stonework, with cornices and carving; some are surmounted with an open arcade, and have stone shafts to carry lightning conductors. Within the last few years some large tombs have been made of burnt brick (externally), although no change is made in the ancient style of interior construction, with single stones for walls, roof, door and shelves. Near some villages are a large number of these great family tombs; and at one place, on the highroad from the present to the old capital, a long row of such tombs, from thirty to forty in all, may be seen. In many places a shapeless heap of stones, often overshadowed by a Fàno tree, resembling an acacia, marks a grave of the Vazìmba, the earlier inhabitants of the country. These are still regarded with superstitious dread and veneration by the people, and offerings of rice, sugar-cane and other food are often placed on them. The winter months are a favourite time for the native custom of famadìhana—that is, of wrapping the corpses of their deceased relatives in fresh silk cloths, as well as removing some of them to a new tomb as soon as this is finished. These are quite holiday occasions and times of feasting and, not infrequently, of much that is evil in the way of drinking and licentiousness.