19 minute read
Nature
‘Duetto Buffo di Due Gatti’ is a humorous performance piece often sang as part of a concert encore A Nightingale pours forth his liquid song. One of the most evocative sounds in Nature
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Sergei Prokofiev, in an unusually relaxed pose, in about 1920, 15 years before he wrote "Peter and the Wolf"
A Nightingale pours forth his liquid song. One of the most evocative sounds in Nature.
A European Skylark prepares to soar aloft to sing his love-song
Music of the Spheres
MUSIC EVENTS WILL BE HAPPENING OVER FRANCE THIS SUMMER (FINGERS CROSSED!). JUST THE TIME FOR A LOOK AT WHAT INFLUENCE THE WORLD OF NATURE HAS HAD ON THE WORLD OF MUSIC
By Mike George
Mike George is our regular contributor on wildlife and the countryside in France. He is a geologist and naturalist, living in the Jurassic area of the Charente
When my Editor suggested that I wrote about nature in music, I gulped, but, of course, agreed. Who can resist a challenge? The fact that I have Van Gogh’s ear for music is not going to help. However, I have taken up the Sisyphean task, and can only hope that the rock will not roll back to crush me! Part of my problem is that, for me, music stopped in about 1950. Between then and Sergeant Pepper I have no comment; after Sergeant Pepper there is nothing to comment about, so I shall confine myself to (what is sometimes dismissively called) “Classical Music”.
Birds of every feather
The first subject that springs to mind is birds. They are themselves (for the most part) considered musical, so what more natural than that their songs should feature in music? The odd thing is, they hardly ever do. Admittedly the odd cuckoo note turns up, but generally it is the distinctive note-pair rather than any attempt at actual imitation. Delius had more sense than to issue bird-callers to his hapless woodwind artists to enable them to depict “The First Cuckoo of Spring” - he uses the Oboe and the Clarinet. Ottorino Respighi tried a bit harder with his "Gli Ucelli” (The Birds) in 1927. Here he orchestrated five older piano and harpsichord pieces that had been inspired by birds. The Dove, the Hen the Nightingale and, of course, the Cuckoo, get an outing, with their songs and characters drawn at length. The composer who tried the hardest was Olivier Messiaen. He had always been passionately interested in birdsongs, and is known to have spent hours in solitude in rural places in order to note the songs down accurately, even sleeping in old barns to be sure to be early enough for a good display. During the 1950s he wrote several concerti for piano and a small orchestra of eighteen players. It is an unusual orchestra, for it eliminates all strings and instead consists of eight woodwinds (piccolo, flute, oboe, E-flat clarinet, two B-flat clarinets, bass clarinet, and bassoon), three brass (trumpet and two horns), plus glockenspiel, xylophone, and percussion. His first attempt was Le Merle noir (“The Blackbird,” 1952). Among other pieces he wrote were Réveil des oiseaux (“Wakening of Birds,” 1953), Oiseaux exotiques (“Exotic Birds,” 1956), and Catalogue d'oiseaux (“Catalog of Birds,” 1958). An American music critic wrote of these pieces, “This music is full of the joyful sound of birds, and audiences will do best not to look for this score’s formal structure but to enjoy the many birdsongs, to listen for the brilliance of the colours, and to ride along the waves of its complex rhythms. This music makes virtuoso demands on its performers, particularly on the pianist, who has five brief cadenzas along the way, each of these scrupulously based on the call of a particular bird. Bird-lovers may take particular pleasure in identifying the calls of specific birds, but all audiences are caught up in the colour, the energy, and the joy of this music.” One gains the impression that the critic considered the pieces as an early attempt to produce a birdsong identification exercise rather than as music! (As is the case with all genres of music, these pieces might not be to everyone’s taste!)
What about the Lark?
When the subject of birds in music is raised, most people’s first thought will be “The Lark Ascending” by Ralph Vaughan Williams. This was written in 1914, inspired by a poem of the same title by George Meredith, and the soaring violin makes everyone think of the freedom of the lark, soaring over open country and singing for all he is worth. However, if you actually stand in the country where the larks are singing, the song you hear is really a rather complex twittering. Very evocative and charming, but to my untutored ear, quite far from the sounds that Vaughan Williams puts into his music. But unquestionably the music does make one think of the lark when one hears it. Is it the suggestion implanted by the title? Partly, perhaps, but in fact I think what affects the listener is the liquid flow of the music conjuring up the freedom of the soaring bird. What the lark is actually doing, of course, is demonstrating his stamina to any listening female lark; the longer he sings, the stronger he is. He is on something of a treadmill dictated by his hormones. But that is the sad thing about the science of nature – it takes all the romance out of the situation.
Adorable furry animals
If we leave the birds and their songs, we are on shakier ground. Most animals do not make a lot of noise, or if they do, it is something one cannot easily portray in music. One glaring exception, of course, is the mew of a cat. Gioachino Rossini is generally credited with writing “Duetto Buffo di Due Gatti” (The Cats’ Duet), although the music was actually drawn from his 1817 opera "Otello" and repurposed as a duet for two sopranos (though other combinations of voices have sung it). The best recording is undoubtedly that by Elisabeth Schwartzkopf and Victoria de Los Angeles, with Gerald Moore at the piano, first issued in 1969 and reissued in 2003. It consists entirely of the one word, “Miau”, repeated on pitch. One cannot listen to the glorious, drawn-out caterwauling of these two singers, who are so obviously enjoying themselves, without seeing two pampered Persians stretched lazily on cushions in the sun and disputing gently. (If you haven’t heard it before, I do suggest you listen to it, there are recordings on YouTube, this one is easily my favourite.)
Composer Camille SaintSaëns, with some of the characters he depicted in his "Carnival of the Animals"
But with most other animals, it is the their motion (kangaroos, fish, wild characteristics – size, status, peculiarity of donkeys) or the impression they make on movement - that the music must convey. the watcher. The cleverest movement, to Consider Sergei Prokofiev’s “Peter and the my (geologist’s) heart, is “Fossils”. Here, Wolf”. Here we have a whole range of Saint-Saëns takes his own, chilling “Danse animals – a bird, a cat, a duck, a wolf, Macabre” (remember the theme music to Grandad, Peter and the Hunters – none of ‘Jonathan Creek’?), speeds it up whose voices are used, but whose status as considerably and has it played on a predator, victim, timid onlooker, avenger xylophone, giving the impression of etc. are laid out in music, together with a skeletons running about and rattling. One strong suggestion of section depicts fish their styles of movement – slinking, Film composer swimming in an aquarium, and the film waddling, skulking, John Williams admitted composer John Williams skipping and so on. that this music inspired his admitted that this music Sadly, the music is often overshadowed by the narration, when “Hedwig’s Theme” for the Harry Potter movie inspired his “Hedwig’s Theme” for the Harry Potter movie. the speaker has been known to show off rather to the detriment of the piece. The purpose of the piece is similar to Benjamin Brittan's “Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra”. Prokofiev was commissioned in 1936 to write a symphony for children introducing the various instruments from the orchestra, but also to have a good Communist message about the triumph of Soviet Man (Peter) conquering Nature (the Wolf) despite the objections of the Older Generation (Grandpa). It is now the most performed of all Prokofiev's works, but to my mind Brittan’s piece appeals more on both the teaching and the entertainment fronts.Perhaps the champion depiction of a whole range of creatures is Camille SaintThe most familiar movement is “The Swan", a glorious depiction of a stately creature on moving water, brilliantly depicted. You can even visualise the paddling feet! Sadly, this has been literally done to death as a result of having been used by Anna Pavlova, the Russian ballerina, for her depiction of the “Dying Swan, which has also imparted a rather grim feeling to the movement. Interestingly, this was the only movement that Saint-Saëns would permit to be performed in his lifetime. He was a most serious musician, and he had created the “Carnival” in 1886 for his own amusement. He feared that his reputation would be harmed if it become public property. Saëns' “Carnival of the Animals” (“Le Incidentally, the clever little poems that are Carnaval des Animaux,”). This consists of often spoken by a narrator before each 14 movements, each intended to depict an movement are a later addition by the animal or group of animals. Sometimes American poet Ogden Nash. While, as a there is a suggestion of the animal’s lover of the English Language and those vocalisation (the growl of a lion, the that use it with consummate skill, I will crowing of a rooster, a donkey’s bray) but hear no word against Ogden Nash, I feel mostly it is the character of the animals, or the “Carnival” is actually better unadorned.
Music without backbone
You would expect invertebrates to be lacking completely from this list. In fact, a few make it through, but only just! In the field of “popular” music there is a lovely little piece written in 1933 called “Butterflies in the Rain”. Of course, it is the evocation of the dancing insects and the raindrops that enliven the music, and there is even a verse of song, but today it is mostly played as a light orchestral piece. You will have heard it many times! In the world of more serious music lies Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee”. This in fact comes from his opera “The Tale of Tsar Saltan”, and depicts the moment when a character is turned into a bumblebee so that he can visit his father to prove that he is still alive. It is usually played today as an exhibition piece, since when performed at full tempo it is fiendishly difficult to play. Ralph Vaughan Williams re-appears at last to supply us with a rather surprising piece, “The Wasps”. This seems at first sight to be an invocation of the true insects, and in quantity, as the strings at the start of the five-movement work hum and buzz on a rising and falling sequence which is eerily evocative of the sound of a swarm of wasps or bees. However, the music then explores other themes, and never returns to the insects. In fact, the music was composed in 1909 as incidental music for a Cambridge University performance of the Greek playwright Aristophanes’ comedy “The Wasps”, which has nothing beyond its title to do with insects, and is in fact a satire on Greek law and lawyers, who are the wasps in question.
Working on a larger scale
Two celebrated orchestral pieces deserve mention. Beethoven (who else) decided to portray nature on a grand scale in his "Pastoral Symphony". Anyone who has seen Disney's Fantasia, with its storms, adorable creatures from legend and surging trees married to the sublime music, will never forget the experience. Richard Wagner, never a composer to shy away from a challenge, wrote for his opera "Siegfried", third part of the Ring Cycle of operas, the great pastoral evocation “Waldweben” (Forest Murmurs), where Siegfried the hero, waiting outside the cave of the dragon Fafnir for a showdown, lies back and listens to the sounds of the forest and the song of the bird above him. It is a strangely evocative and pleasing piece from a composer more usually noted for Sturm und Drang.
Coda
Again, I am not a musician, so I hope those who are, or whose knowledge of music is far deeper than mine, will forgive anything I have omitted or misrepresented. But I do hope you have enjoyed reading it, as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Swallowtail Butterf lies
(Summer must be here!)
I OFTEN WRITE ABOUT BUTTERFLIES, MAINLY BECAUSE I LOVE THEM AND FIND THEM ENDLESSLY FASCINATING, BUT ALSO BECAUSE I GET ASKED ABOUT THEM MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE.
However, reviewing things I have and that particular stretch of the Norfolk written about lately, I discovered that Broads was the only suitable place. Even I haven’t said much about my very there it has to be cosseted and nurtured. favourite butterflies, so I plan to The French version, of course, suffers indulge myself! from no such inhibition. Very upper-class butterflies As you will see from our illustrations, the In April two very superior-looking butterflies make their appearance - the two species of butterfly look strangely similar yet distinctly different. The Swallowtail and the Scarce Swallowtail (in French, le Machaon or Grand porte-queue and le Flambé respectively). Strangely, despite their English names, the Scarce Swallowtail is marginally the commoner of the two here in France; its name refers to its occurrence in Machaon is marginally the larger on average with a quoted wingspan of 55-90 mm; the Flambé ranges from 50-85 mm. As usual, males tend to be smaller than females. Both are marked with brown on a yellowish background. The Machaon has a regular netted pattern of markings, while the The scientists finally worked out that the male’s mating apparatus would only work in situations of high humidity and moderate temperature purpose – it mimics the antennae at the other end of the butterfly. This effect is enhanced by the presence of a colourful spot at the base of each tail, mimicking an eye. Several people have asked me what the strange butterfly is that flies backwards, so the mimicry can even fool a human! Of course, the purpose is to save the butterfly’s life. The insect is big, and no England, which is Flambé has markings bird is going to miss seeing it fly past. In virtually zero. There was a native British that are more streaks parallel to the body. such a case, a bird will aim for the head of version of the Swallowtail, but for the last It looks as though someone has played an the butterfly, as this is the surest way to century at least it has been restricted to a uneven flame over its wings, hence its subdue it. However, the tails with their small corner of the Norfolk Broads. Not French name – the burned one. eyespot look like a large head, and the bird for any particular crime that it had committed; it just didn’t like living Why the strange wings? will attack that end instead. Its beak will not get a good grip, the wing will tear, and anywhere else. The scientists finally There is another characteristic that marks the butterfly can escape. The back-end of worked out that the male’s mating them out. Both have the trailing corner of the wings can take quite a lot of such apparatus would only work in situations of the hind-wings drawn out into a punishment and the insect will still be able high humidity and moderate temperature, prominent tail. This has a very practical to fly relatively unhampered.
A Machaon displaying its underside; the colours are slightly paler than the upper side, but the pattern is much the same
By Mike George
Mike George is our regular contributor on wildlife and the countryside in France. He is a geologist and naturalist, living in the Jurassic area of the Charente
A superb, fresh Flambé on a buddleia flower, showing the effect of the eyespots as a deterrent camouflage
A stately Machaon feeding on cherry blossom. The red eyespots act both as a distraction and a deterrent to predators
The caterpillars of the Flambé (left) and the Machaon (right) look quite different
Twins
The similar appearance of the two species is what led to their peculiar scientific names. When Linnaeus first named them, he gave them both the generic name Papilio, which is Latin for butterfly, then looked for twins in classical mythology for the specific names. He chose Machaon and Podalirius, who were the twin sons of Asclepius, the founder of Greek medicine (you can find them in Homer’s Iliad). Subsequently, some meddling taxonomist has decided that they are not close enough to be considered exactly the same genus, and the Flambé now has the generic name Iphiclides. I don’t know who Iphiclides may have been. Please don’t get me onto the subject of taxonomists! As large butterflies, their flight is often described as strong or rapid. This does not do it justice. The flight of the Swallowtail butterflies in better described as “kiting”. They both seem to float like paper aeroplanes. A few gentle flaps, then an insouciant glide for some distance before another sustaining flap. It is very restful to watch. However, when male and female involve each other is a kiss-chase, things can get considerably more exciting. I have seen a male and female Flambé chase each other the length and breadth of my garden, then flop down into the grass and lie side-by-side getting their breath back!
The caterpillar – nothing like the end-product
The tastes of the caterpillars of the two butterflies are quite different. The Machaon lays its eggs on fennel, dill, parsley and rue, or other plants of these families. On the other hand, the Flambé prefers trees of the Prunus family, including plum, Mirabelle, cherry and even apple and sloe-trees. The caterpillars are, unsurprisingly, large. The Machaon caterpillar, in its final stage, is 5 cm long and green with prominent red and black markings. It is active by day. The Flambé caterpillar also eats by day, but is more usually active after dark. It is flatter in appearance than that of the Machaon, 4 cm long and predominantly green. The caterpillars of all the Swallowtail butterflies have one curious distinguishing feature: just behind the head, in all stages, is a y-shaped orange organ, the osmaterium, which is normally hidden in the caterpillar’s body but which the larva can erect, and which emits an unpleasant odour to deter ants, spiders and even mantids. To humans the odour is not offensive. Both caterpillars pupate on the stem of the foodplant. The chrysalis is held in place by a silk band around the middle. During winter the butterfly survives as a chrysalis, in summer, the butterfly will normally emerge two months after pupating. In the north of the range of these butterflies, one brood per year is the norm. Throughout most of the range, however (which included our part of France), two broods per year is usual. The first appearance is usually in April, and the last in September. May and July are the two peak periods during which these butterflies are often seen, but you may catch sight of the odd specimen any time during summer.
The photography challenge
Photographing these butterflies can be fun. The two species seem, in my experience, to have opposite attitudes to the camera. The Machaon is shy, and if it sees you approaching with your camera will behave like Greta Garbo. It will hide behind the flower, it will dart away at just the wrong moment, in fact the only way I have had any success is with a long lens and trying to pretend I’m not interested. The Flambé, however, will act like Madonna. Many times, one has spread itself on a stone wall, or perched on a plant, and displayed its wings ideally for the camera. Your best chance of capturing them on film is, in fact, when they are feeding. They both love buddleia and other nectar plants, though the Machaon will visit almost any flower that is large enough to support it. Take plenty of time and lurk near a well-flowering buddleia bush, especially if it is a pale lilac colour – these seem to be more attractive than dark purple or white flowers. And get in as close as you can – although, as I say, with a Machaon this can be difficult.
A medical end-piece
One other strange story is linked to the Swallowtail butterfly. In the mid-20th century, a professional medical geneticist and amateur lepidopterist was indulging his passion for lepidoptery by breeding swallowtail butterflies in his home in England. His name was Dr Cyril Clarke. He and his wife had perfected a technique for “hand-mating” the butterflies by placing their abdomens together and then letting them do their thing. This meant that they could be certain which butterfly had mated with which, as the females do not tend to be promiscuous (unlike the males!). This meant that one could do genetic studies on them, and he drew some very useful conclusions on the way genetic information was passed. To fund his hobby, he sold excess pupae to other lepidopterists, and in this way met another medical geneticist, Dr Philip Sheppard. The two became friends, and pursued both their hobby and their professional studies together. The knowledge they had gained and the genetic studies they had made enabled them to work out a system for dealing with a serious medical problem in humans –Rhesus Haemolytic Disease. In this disease, a woman whose blood is Rhnegative, if she carries a Rh-positive baby, can often be sensitised to the Rh-factor. If she then becomes pregnant with another Rh-positive baby, the antibodies she has built up can have a serious, even fatal, effect on the foetus she carries. Drs Clarke and Sheppard devised a treatment for this condition which saw the death-rate of such children fall dramatically, until in developed countries it sank to negligible levels. So when you see a Swallowtail butterfly insouciantly kiting through your garden, spare a thought for thousands of children who made it into the world as a result of an unlikely friendship, sparked by a butterfly.
