THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

C=C T [ K £ £ t, E

THE

MINSTRELSY OF THE WOODS ;

SKETCHES AND SONGS

CONNECTED WITH THE

NATURAL HISTORY

SOME OF THE MOST INTERESTING BRITISH AND FOREIGN

BIRDS.

[ .£•' frw^j

BY THE AUTHOR OF " THE WILD GARLAND," &C.

HARVEY AND DARTON,

GUACECHURCH STREET.
1832.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY JOSEPH RICKBRBT,
SHERBOURN LANE.

TO

THE BELOVED YOUNG RELATIVES,

FOR WHOSE AMUSEMENT THESE

SKETCHES OF NATURAL HISTORY

WERE COMMENCED,

THE COMPLETED WO11K

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED,

THE AUTHOR.

M366S70 -

TO

MY BROTHER'S CHILDREN.

YOUNG wanderers by the mountain-streams,
Whose days are all like sunny dreams,
To you, from woodlands far away,
I come, with legend and with lay :
Songs of many a tuneful bird,
Amid your own green vallies heard ;
Warblers whose strains are full of glee,
Blythe as your own blythe songs can be ;
And tale, and sketch, and song I bring,
Of birds who wave the glossy wing,
And sing their tiny broods to rest,
In the deep forests of the west.

Of other songsters too I tell,
Who in fair eastern gardens dwell,
Sipping the dews from Indian flowers,
And nestling in the spicy bowers.

A3

vi TO MY BROTHER'S CHILDREN.

Young dwellers in Glamorgan's vale,
Who listen to my woodland tale,
For you, where'er your footsteps rove,
O'er moor or mountain, mead or grove,
May some sweet wild bird hovering near,
Your course with gentle music cheer !
Nor listen ye with thankless heart,
But in their raptures bear a part ;
And when the skylark's early song
Is heard your pleasant fields among,
Out-pouring on the morning sky
His rapture-breathing melody,
Gaze on him, as afar he flies,
And let your thoughts to heaven arise ;
Reminded, by his joyous lays,
What fervent prayer, what ardent praise,
Are hourly due to Him, whose voice
Calls on all nature to rejoice.
Sustained by His almighty power,
And crown'cl with blessings ev'ry hour;
Unworthy of the least of these,
Like the good patriarch, on our knees,
Let us, with humbled hearts, confess
His love and our unworthiness.
Unnumber'd mercies from his hand,
Our daily, hourly praise demand.

TO MY BROTHER'S CHILDREN. vii

When morning dawns with radiant light,
Chasing the shadows of the night,
Waking to life each warbling bird,
Then let our cheerful hymns be heard;
When evening comes with soften'd beam,
Let praise be still our grateful theme.

In yon bright world, th' angelic throng
Sing, day and night, their heavenly song ;
From earth let feebler notes arise,
To join the chorus of the skies.

WYARDS,
November, 1831.

CONTENTS.

Page

INTRODUCTION .....

CHAPTER I.
FIRST ORDER.

ACCIPITRES.

The Eagle . . 12

The Falcon . . 22

The Tawny Owl • 27

The Virginian Owl . .30

SECOND ORDER.

PASSERES.

The Bell-bird (C0*+~$*&**£W^. . 33

The Thrush ... 36

The Mocking Thrush . .40

The Oriole, or Golden Thrush . • 43

The Robin Redbreast . . . 45

The Nightingale . .53

The Black-Cap f$Ut#4U&) • • 62

The Golden-crested Wren . .65

The Willow- Wren . . . . 68

X CONTENTS.

The Furze-Wren, or Dartford Warbler . 71

The Wagtail ... -76

The Swallow . . . ... 81

The Fern-Owl . . . . . 85

The Whip-poor- Will ... .94

The Skylark 104

The Woodlark . . . . , . . 109

The Sparrow ,111

The Java Sparrow . . . . .118

The Goldfinch . . . . . 122

The Bullfinch . .. . .128

The Raven . . . , . 138

The Rook . . . .144

The Nuthatch . . . ... 149

The Humming-Bird . . <•' v • . .156

The Kingfisher . . . . » . 161

CHAPTER II.
THIRD ORDER.

SCANSORES.

The Green Woodpecker . . . . . . 164

The Cuckoo . .168

The Honey Cuckoo . 1 72

CHAPTER III.
FOURTH ORDER.

GALLING.

The Ring-Dove . . ~. . 176

The Wood-Grouse .(C^€^^f^ . . 181

The Ptarmigan . . . .185

CONTENTS. XI

CHAPTER IV.
FIFTH ORDER.

GRALL^E.

The Sandpiper . .191

The White Stork , . . , .194

CHAPTER V.
SIXTH ORDER,

PALMIPEDES.

The Gull ... .205

The Stormy Petrel . . . 206

ADDITIONAL NOTICES . » , 221

THE

MINSTRELSY OF THE WOODS.

INTRODUCTION.

" Their little lives are free from care,

From bush to brake they fly,
Filling the rich ambrosial air
Of summer's painted sky :
They flit about the fragrant wood;
Elisha's God provides them food,
^ And hears them when they cry.
For ever blithe and blest are they,
Their sinless course a summer's day."

BLACKWOOD.

EVERY study, the pursuit of which leads the
young student out into the fields and woods, to
observe, in minute detail, the wonderful works
of the Author of nature, and learn how " in
wisdom he hath made them all," — every such
study is alike healthful to body and mind. The
botanist, with his fragrant wild-flowers and
wreathed garlands; the entomologist, with his
insect train, and all their wonderful transforma-

B

2 INTRODUCTION.

tions and beautiful forms; the mineralogist, with
his no less astonishing and interesting details —
all have their respective claims on our notice.
But who comes on the field with more attractive
trophies than the ornithologist? Who is there,
that has not watched the swift-flying birds with
delight, and listened with charmed ear to their
thousand, thousand songs? The unpaid choris-
ters of the groves are they — the musicians of all
times and places. Roaming in the woods or
fields, playing in the garden, climbing the moun-
tain, or lingering by the side of the river or the
sea-shore — at home, or abroad, have you not
aften marked with delight, the rapid flight of
the various birds passing swiftly through the
air? Have you ever considered how it is that
they can fly, while you can only walk and run?
Perhaps you will say, because they have wings,
and we have not. But this is not the only rea-
son. Though you have no wings, you have
arms and hands to supply their place, but with
these you cannot fly. It would be of no use to
you to possess the power, and therefore the
great Author of nature has not given it you.
Your business is on the earth; but the necessi-
ties of birds require that they should be able to
move freely through the air. To enable them
to do this, they are very differently formed from

INTRODUCTION.

man and other animals. If it were possible for
you to run as swiftly as the birds can fly, in a
few minutes you would become almost breathless,
and quite exhausted with the exertion. In order
that they may be able to sustain the great efforts
they make in flight, and the wonderful speed
with which they move, they are formed in such
a manner as to have a store of breath provided
for their great necessities. To secure this ad-
vantage, there are air-vessels, or little cavities
for the reception of air, almost all over their
bodies; even in their bones, where air often sup-
plies the place of marrow, as you may observe
in the bones of a chicken, which have a much
smaller proportion of marrow in them than the
bones of quadrupeds. This singular provision
of nature, besides enabling them to breathe more
freely, increases their bulk without adding to
their weight, and by that means gives a larger
space for the muscles to act on, and so pro-
motes the facility of their flight in another way
This extension of the air-vessels, also effects more
speedily the changes in the blood, and thus fits it
for a more rapid circulation ; by this means greatly
increasing the heat of their little bodies, and ena-
bling them to meet, without injury, all the changes
of temperature to which they are subject in their
passage through the air. The better to fit them

B 2

4 INTRODUCTION.

for these changes, the bountiful hand that form-
ed them has prepared a species of clothing unlike
that of all other creatures. First, a covering of
soft down is scattered over the skin; then, to
prevent so light a substance from being blown
about, a complete covering is provided of small
feathers laid closely one over another, forming a
sort of close under garment. Then comes ano-
ther covering of larger feathers, laid on so nicely,
that every part is covered, each feather being
fitted exactly to the curve of the body where it
is placed: this is its upper garment. Besides
this, there are the long wing and tail-feathers,
which assist it in its flight. Thus clad in a
garb of the warmest, and, at the same time, of
the lightest materials, it is singularly fitted to
take its course through an element in which it
must often encounter the extremes of cold, such
as would injure, and perhaps destroy, either man
or beast. The distances these winged tra-
vellers can go in a few hours is truly wonderful.
The great naturalist, Buffon, has observed, that
though the stag, the rein-deer, and the elk, can
go forty leagues in a single day, and the camel
three hundred leagues in eight days, the birds
much exceed them all in swiftness. If we were to
fix our eyes on a large bird, such as a kite or eagle,
when about to take its flight, in less than three

INTRODUCTION. 5

minutes it would fly to so great a distance as
to be entirely out of our sight. These birds
are said to traverse a space of four thousand five
hundred feet in a minute; they may therefore,
without difficulty, perform a journey of four
hundred leagues in a day, if they were on the
wing ten hours out of the twenty-four, which
would allow them quite time enough for rest and
feeding. That many birds can, and do take
such long flights in a short period, has been
proved by the observations of travellers and
naturalists. Swallows have been seen and caught
on the coast of Senegal on the 9th of October,
that is to say, eight or nine days after their de-
parture from Europe. There is a well-known
story of a falcon belonging to Henry the Second
of France, which, pursuing with eagerness a
small bustard at Fontainbleau, strayed away
from the royal party to which it belonged,
and was taken the following day at Malta, the
ring which she bore on her foot marking her out
as the same bird. A falcon from the Canary
Isles, sent to the Duke of Lerma, flew back to
the Isle of Teneriffe in sixteen hours, which is a
passage of two hundred and fifty leagues. Sea-
gulls are said to go a distance of more than two
hundred miles, and return the same day.

Another remarkable peculiarity in birds is

6 INTRODUCTION.

their strong and piercing sight. They penetrate
with a glance the depth of the forest, and see the
fruits and insects necessary for their support, at
a distance at which no other creature could per-
ceive them. With a clearness of vision yet more
wonderful, they discern, from an amazing height
in the air, the minutest objects on the earth. It
is said that a hawk, hovering in the air, sees
from his station a little lark on a clod of earth
in the fields, at twenty times the distance at
which a man or a dog can perceive it. The kite
too, who soars so high over our heads, when at
such a height in the air that we can no longer
discern his form, can see the small lizards, field-
mice, and birds, in the fields and woods so far
beneath him, and selects which he chooses for
his prey.

Many are the wonders connected with the
history of birds which remain to be told. How
beautiful are their nests, so curiously construct-
ed, each bird suiting its dwelling to the wants
and habits peculiar to its race ! The yapous o"
South America suspend their nests from the
branches of trees, like so many little lamps. The
little dabchick makes her nest like a tiny boat,
and launches it on the stream or still water,
having first securely fixed it to the reeds ; and
there it rides, like a fairy shallop safely moored.

INTRODUCTION. 7

How astonishing is the instinct which induces
these little creatures to emigrate to other coun-
tries, when the season approaches in which the
food they require is no longer to be found in the
land where they have built their nests, and reared
their young, and sung their sweetest songs!
How amazing the skill with which they pursue
their distant journies to precisely those countries
which are the best furnished with means for
their support! Equally wonderful is their re-
turn, at stated periods, to the shores they have
quitted. Well may we exclaim, with the de-
lightful naturalist of Selborne,

" Whence your return by such nice instinct led,
When spring, soft season, lifts her bloomy head ?
Such baffled searches mock man's prying pride —
The God of nature is your secret guide."

We cannot willingly close this little sketch
without quoting the appropriate and elegantly
written observations of a naturalist of the present
day. " Birds, generally speaking, appear to
belong more to the air than to the earth: they
constitute moving republics, which traverse the
atmosphere at stated periods in large bodies.
These bodies perform their aerial evolutions like
an army, crowd into close column, form into
triangle, extend in line of battle, or disperse in

8 INTRODUCTION.

light squadrons. The bird knows, by an ad-
mirable instinct, the winds and weather which
are favourable to his voyage. He can long
foresee the approaches of frost, or the return of
spring. He needs no compass to direct his cours
through the empire of the cloud, the thunder,
and the tempest; and, while man and beast are
creeping on the earth, he breathes the pure air
of heaven, and soars upward nearer to the spring
of day. He arrives at the term of his voyage,
and touches the hospitable land of his destina-
tion. He finds there a subsistence prepared by
the hand of Providence, and a safe asylum in
the grove, the forest, or the mountain, where he
revisits the habitation he had tenanted before,
the scene of his former delights, the cradle of
his infancy. The stork resumes his ancient
tower, the nightingale the solitary thicket, the
swallow his old window, and the redbreast the
mossy trunk of the same oak in which he for-
merly nestled."*

In conclusion, we must beg to appropriate to
our use another interesting passage from the
same writer, on the touching exhibitions of pa-
rental tenderness displayed by the feathered race,
in the patient hatching of their eggs, and the

* See Griffith's Cuvier.

INTRODUCTION. 9

care and defence of their young ones, as long as
they require their attention. " The mother,
seated the livelong day upon her eggs, forgets
all the necessities of nature. Her natural cha-
racter undergoes a complete change, and fling-
ing off the timidity which usually characterises
her, she braves every danger, and dares the
most unequal conflicts for the safety of her
young. Some birds never quit their nests with-
out plucking feathers from their own breasts to
cover their eggs; others cover them with dry
leaves; and among some species, the male
hatches in his turn, or brings food to the female.
So much tenderness and trouble, lavished with-
out compensation; such a sublime and generous
self-devotion in the most urgent dangers, proves
that this natural and amiable sentiment is
not the result of any mechanical connexion of
ideas and sensations, but of a law altogether
divine. The swallow, precipitating itself into an
edifice in flames to rescue its young; the hen,
which hesitates not to brave death in defence of
her chickens; the timid lark, presenting herself
to the fowler, to divert him from her nest ; in
fine, all these touching evidences of affection
for the helpless, in animals so light and volatile,
clearly indicate the sacred impulse communicated
to all that breathe, by the Mighty Being who

10 INTRODUCTION.

has willed the perpetuity and support of every
species. Here, indeed, we recognise the work-
manship of the Divinity, in all its admirable
wisdom and surpassing benevolence. The finger
of God is here! "

[Much of the information contained in this
little book, is drawn either from the entertaining
volumes of Bewick, or from the more scientific
pages of " The Animal Kingdom of Cuvier,
with additional Descriptions and Original Mat-
ter, by Ed. Griffith, F.L.S. and others."]

11

NATURALISTS have arranged birds under six
orders. In each of these orders there are again
sub-divisions ; but, as we do not pretend to enter
into the minutiae of ornithology, we shall only no-
tice the six grand divisions, as forming the broad
outlines of the science. They are as follow : —

First Order Accipitres, or birds of prey.

Second do. ~~~Passeres, including most of our birds of

song, and many others.
Third do. ~ — Scansores, or Climbers.
Fourth do. ~~~Gallinse, or such as resemble our domestic

fowls.

Fifth do. Grallse, or Waders.

Sixth do. Palmipedes, or Swimmers.

THE FIRST ORDER OF BIRDS.

BIRDS OF PREY. ACCIPITRES. LINN.

Are known by their bent beak and crooked talons ; very
powerful arms, by means of which they pursue other
birds, and even weak quadrupeds and reptiles. They
are among the birds, what the carnivora are among
quadrupeds. They form two families, the Diurnal and
Nocturnal — Cnvier.

12 THE EAGLE.

ORDER ACCIPITRES.

The Golden or Royal Eagle. — Ring-tailed Eagle.
Falco chrysaetos.— LINV. Aquila chrysaetos. — CUVIER.

FROM amongst the diurnal birds of prey, we shall
select the most powerful and courageous of their
tribes, the eagles. They have strong beaks,
straight at the base, and bent only at the point.
Their legs are clothed with feathers: their wings
are as long as their tails. Their flight is both
high and rapid, and their courage exceeds that
of other birds. Such is Cuvier's description of
the eagles, properly so called.

The eagle has often been called the king of
birds, and is, among the feathered race, what
the lion is among quadrupeds. Distinguish-
ed as he is by his lofty mien, his piercing eye,
and the air of commanding dignity which per-
vades his whole appearance, he may well be
termed a splendid bird. In fact, he has ever
been considered as a fit emblem of all that is
noble, magnificent, and powerful. Poets of all
ages have availed themselves of the striking
attributes of the eagle, and none more beautifully

THE EAGLE. 13

than the inspired bards of the sacred page. We
might give many instances, but we will only
select the following admirable passage from the
graphic pen of the patriarch Job: "Doth the
eagle mount up at thy command, and make her
nest on high ? She dwelleth and abideth on the
rock, upon the crag of the rock, and the strong
place. From thence she seeketh the prey, and
her eyes behold afar off. Her young ones also suck
up blood ; and where the slain are, there is she."
The strength of wing which enables these noble
birds to mount on high, and make their dwelling
in the rock, also gives them power to traverse
league after league, to an immense extent, in
pursuit of their needful food, which is often to
be sought in some remote valley or forest glade,
or on some distant shore. Soaring along on
wide-extended wings, the eagle darts a piercing
glance over the vast tracts of country spread far
beneath, and beholds the prey afar off: then
down he sweeps through the pure aether with
the speed of an arrow, fastens on his helpless
victim, and carries it off in his talons, unless its
weight is unusually great. In this case, he re-
mains on the spot to satisfy his hunger, and
leaves the remnants of his feast to any bird or
beast that may chance to be attracted by it. He
himself never returns a second time to feed on a

14 THE EAGLE

carcase, nor will he partake of any animal which
he has not himself taken in the chase; in this
respect, as in many others, resembling the lion,
which is said to turn with disgust from a lifeless
body. Among the eagles, and all other birds of
prey, the female is larger than the male, and
appears to possess greater courage and skill in
seizing the prey. The male and female are
generally seen near each other, as if pursuing
the chase in company, except when the female is
detained in her nest by her eggs or her little
ones. This bird can support life for a very
long period without food, which is accounted
for by the capacity of his crop to receive an
immense quantity more than the bird can di-
gest at the time, and thus he carries about a
supply for the wants of many days. Buffon
says he knew one of these birds, in a state
of captivity, live forty days without food, and
that it showed no symptoms of exhaustion till
within the last eight days, at the end of which it
was killed. This was evidently one of those
inhuman experiments, which men are sometimes
tempted to make, in the eagerness of their pur-
suit after scientific knowledge — deeds of cruelty
which no discoveries can justify. The eagle
can quench his thirst in the blood of his victims,
and therefore can pass many days without water.

THE GOLDEN EAGLE. 15

This circumstance has led people to suppose that
the eagle never drinks, an idea which has been
proved to be wholly unfounded. If water is
offered to him in a state of captivity, he will
both drink it and bathe in it, like other birds.
Deserts and mountains are the favourite haunts
of the eagle tribe.

The golden eagle dwells in solitary state in
the mountainous regions of Europe; likewise in
various parts of Asia. It is also found in Africa,
on the chain of Mount Atlas. In this kingdom,
it is to be met with only in the mountainous
parts of Ireland, and more rarely on the moun-
tains of Scotland. As these birds require a vast
quantity of food to sustain them, it is necessary
that they should have a wide circuit to range in
search of prey. For this reason, only a single
pair of eagles are ever found in one district.
There they dwell, amid their mountain fast-
nesses, the monarchs of a wide domain, and ap-
parently as little disposed to permit a rival on
the throne, as any of the princes of our nobler
race. In the grandeur of their dwelling-places
they have certainly an advantage over the kings
of the earth. The mountains and the rocks fur-
nish them with mighty palaces and towers of
strength, such as no mortal hand hath ever
builded. It is, indeed, in the midst of a noble

16 THE GOLDEN EAGLE.

heritage, that these royal birds take up their
abode. Here they build their nest, which is to last
through the whole of a life almost patriarchal in
its length, as they are known to live above a
century. This nest, which is called an eyrie,
is usually built in a cleft of the rock. It is formed
of sticks, five or six feet in length, crossed by
pliant branches, and then covered with rushes
and weeds, and it has no other shelter than that
which is afforded it by a projection of the rock,
or an overhanging crag. Here the female deposits
every year two or three eggs; but it is said that
rarely more than one of them is hatched. The
quantity of food required by the young bird
must be very great; and it has been imagined
that, weary of the labour of procuring it, the
'female soon chases the young eaglet from the
nest, and leaves it to provide for itself. This,
later naturalists have decided to be a false state-
ment. It is well known, that when a moun-
taineer has discovered an eagle's nest, he has no
difficulty in securing a good supply of provisions
for himself for a considerable time, by robbing
the young birds of part of their supply, at a time
when the parents are absent from the nest. A
poor man in the county of Kerry, some years
ago, obtained food in abundance for his family
for a whole year, by thus seizing on a share of

THE GOLDEN EAGLE. 17

the young eaglets' daily portion. In order to
prolong the attention of the parent birds to their
voracious young ones beyond the usual period,
he dipt the wings of the eaglets, and thus pre-
vented their departure from the nest. As soon
as they have sufficient strength of wing to go in
search of prey and provide for their own wants,
the old birds have fulfilled all the parental duties
which nature requires of them, and dismiss their
eaglets to seek their fortunes on some distant
mountain, where they too may " make their nest
on high, and abide on the crag of the rock."

" High from the summit of a craggy cliff1,
Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns
On utmost KiloVs shore, whose lonely race
Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds,
The royal eagle draws his vigorous young,
Strong pounced, and ardent with paternal fire.
Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own,
He drives them from his fort, the towering seat
For ages of his empire; which, in peace,
Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea
He wings his course, and preys in distant isles."

THOMSON.

Many anecdotes are related of the rapacity of
this bird, in seizing, and carrying to his nest
in triumph, young children left unguarded in the
neighbourhood of his haunts. These are so well
known, that we are disposed to pass them by,
and give our readers, in their place, a narrative

18 THE GOLDEN EAGLE.

of a more unusual nature, which exibits the
eagle not as the agressor and the conqueror, but
as the victim and the prey of an enemy, who
seems little fitted by nature to gain an advan-
tage over him. We are indebted for the follow-
in w particulars, to a writer in the Magazine of
Natural History.

"A group of hay-makers, while busy at their
work on Chapel-hope meadow, at the upper end
of St. Mary's Loch in Selkirkshire, saw an eagle
rising above the steep mountains that enclose
the narrow valley. The eagle himself was, in-
deed, no unusual sight: but there is something
so imposing and majestic in the flight of this
noble bird while he soars upwards in spiral cir-
cles, that it fascinates the attention of most
people. In general, the motion of his wings is
hardly perceptible : an impetus is given, but
the stroke is far between, and he seems impelled
by some invisible power. The spectators were
soon aware of something peculiar in the flight of
the bird they were observing : he used his wings
violently, and the strokes were often repeated, as
if he had been alarmed and hurried by unusual
agitation. They noticed, at the same time, that
he wheeled in circles that seemed constantly de-
creasing, while his ascent was proportionably
rapid. The now idle hay-makers drew together

THE GOLDEN EAGLE. 19

in close consultation on the singular case, and
continued to keep their eyes on the seemingly
distressed eagle, until he was nearly out of sight,
rising still higher and higher in the air. In a
short while, however, they were all convinced
that he was again seeking the earth, evidently
not as he ascended, in spiral curves : it was like
something falling, and with great rapidity. As
he approached the ground, they clearly saw he
was trembling in his fall like a shot bird. The
convulsive fluttering of his wings stopped the de-
scent but very little, until he fell at a small dis-
tance from the men and boys of the party, who
had naturally run forward, highly excited by
this strange occurrence. A large black-tailed
weasel or stoat, ran from under the body as they
came near, turned with the usual nonchalance
and impudence of the tribe, stood up upon its
hind legs, crossed its fore-paws over its nose,
surveyed its enemy a moment or two, (as they
often do when no dog is near,) and bounded
into a saugh bush. The king of the air was
dead ; and what was more surprising, he was
covered with his own blood. Upon further
examination, they found his throat cut ; and the
stoat has been suspected as the regicide unto
this day. This singular story I always looked
upon as too good to be true, until lately a friend

20 THE GOLDEN EAGLE.

mentioned the following fact, which came under
his own observation. A light snow covered the
ground, and he, having walked out to an ad-
joining hill to meet one of his shepherds, fell in
with the track of one of these weasels, which is
easily to be distinguished from that of the smaller
species, by the larger foot print and length of the
spring, among the snow. He followed the track
for some time, for his amusement, along the side
of the hill, until he came to the marks where a
pair of grouse had been sitting, when he lost all
traces of the weasel. As there was no appear-
ance of a hole, he was much surprised, and pay-
ing close attention to the track of the animal, he
came to be convinced that it had sprung upon
one of the birds, which had flown away with it.
As he is a person of uncommonly acute observa-
tion and strong sense, I have the utmost confi-
dence in the correctness of his judgment. The
conclusion is, that the stoat knew quite well what
it was about, and would keep its hold until it
came to the ground again, under similar circum-
stances with the eagle. The matchless agility
and comparative strength of this bold little crea-
ture, would enable it to save itself during its
falls: before which took place, it had probably,
as in the former instance, destroyed the life of
its more harmless prey."

THE GOLDEN EAGLE. 21

Trained up as we have been, in the ardent
love of liberty, and a reverence for its name, we
were early taught to extend our abhorrence of
captivity to the poor birds and other animals,
which children are often permitted to cage and
fetter at their will. The consequence is, that
even now we have little charity for bird-catchers,
and little sympathy with bird-keepers; but of
all the imprisoned birds we have ever seen, none
have appeared to us so forlorn and melancholy
as a caged eagle — a monarch in captivity.

THE IMPRISONED EAGLE.

Oh ! 'twas a mean and dastard thing
To bind the mountain-eagle's wing :
A tyrant's forge the fetters framed,
And tyranny the deed proclaimed!
My spirit sickens when I see
That noble bird in his misery.

Break, break, the kingly eagle's chain.

And give him to the skies again.

His powerful wing that nature gave,
Sublime o'er mountain tops to wave,
Far sailing round the loftiest peak,
The home of princely sires to seek ;
That powerful wing now drooping low,
Folds round him like a robe of woe.
O break the kingly eagle's chain,
And give him to the skies again.

THE PEREGRINE FALCON.

Once he loved on the sun to gaze,
But now he shuns the dazzling blaze ;
His eye is dimmed, and a feebler light
Suits best the captive eagle's sight.
Oh ! were he free, his glance would dare
The vivid lightning's fervid glare.

Break, break, the kingly eagle's chain,
And give him to the skies again.

'Twas the thought of a dastard mind,
The eagle's free-born wing to bind ;
Freeman, if freedom's honoured name,
The homage of thy heart can claim,
Unclose the prisoner's grated door,
And let him far and freely soar.

Break, break, the kingly eagle's chain,
And give him to the skies again.

ORDER ACCIPITRES.

The Common, Peregrine, or Passerine Falcon.
Falco communis, — GMEL. F. Peregrinus. — LINN.

THE falcons, properly so called, have been
commonly distinguished as the noble birds of
prey. They are thus named, because they have
been trained by man to follow the chase; which it
was the fashion of the time, when falconry was in
use, to call a noble sport, since it was a game

THE PEREGRINE FALCON. 23

confined to nobles and men of high station.
"The peregrine falcon," says Cuvier, "is the
celebrated species which has given its name to
falconry. It inhabits all the north of the globe,
and builds in the steepest rocks. Its flight is
so rapid, that there is scarcely any part of the
world it does not visit. It pounces on its prey
vertically, as if it fell from the clouds.1' The
male is used against magpies, and other small
birds; the female against pheasants, and even
hares. The female is usually one third larger
than the male, which is therefore, in the language
of falconry, called a tercel. This beautiful bird
is rendered familiar to our thoughts, by the fre-
quent references to it in those chronicles and
tales of other times, which bring before us the
picturesque sport of falconry, now an amusement
rarely heard of. Time was, when princes and
chieftains looked on it as the noblest of their
recreations in the "piping time of peace.1' Gay
and gallant was the train that issued forth from
palace, and castle, and ancient hall — the dwell-
ings of our fore-fathers — in pursuit of this anima-
ting amusement. Much of evil was there min-
gled in those festive scenes ; and we do not wish
to recall them to a new existence, but rather to
look back on them as picturesque memorials of
the past, as we dwell on other traces of the feudal

'&1* THE PEREGRINE FALCON.

times — the ruined tower, and the castle moat.
There have been repeated attempts to revive the
sport, but with very limited success. A few
years ago, a young officer might be seen driving
round the neighbourhood of Blackheath, in a
fashionable tilbury, with a number of falcons
perched about on the edge of his carriage : and
occasionally you might see him practising them
in flight according to the falconer's art. But it
seems to have been an ephemeral fancy, which
soon passed away, and found few followers. The
falcon, the jer-falcon, the kestril, merlin, hobby,
and some others of the same family, were trained
for this sport. They were taken early from the
nest, and gradually trained to obey the voice of
man ; to fly at his command in pursuit of game,
and return at his call. In order to render them
tame and docile, they were kept in darkness by
having their eyes covered with a hood, which
could be removed at the pleasure of the keeper.
Bands of soft supple leather were passed round
their legs, to which a ring and cord were at-
tached. By this cord they were fastened to a
tether, and when taken out by the falconer, the
cord was held in his hand. The leather bands
were called jesses. When taken out into the
fields for the purpose of hawking, every falcon
rode on the hand of the falconer or his attend-

I ^ THE BELL-BIRD. 35

/^almost the whole of animated nature, the cam-
panero still cheers the forest. You hear his
toll, and then a pause for a minute ; then an-
other toll, and then a pause again ; and then a
toll, and again a pause. Then he is silent for
six or eight minutes, and then another toll, and
so on. Acteon would stop in mid chase, Maria
would defer her evening song, and Orpheus
himself would drop his lute, to listen to him — so
sweet, so novel, and romantic, is the toll of the
pretty snow-white campanero."*

THE CAMPANERO, OR BELL-BIRD.

The morning light is round me spread,
And I must quit my forest bed.
A thousand strains of varied song
Are floating forth these shades among,
Arid seem as hymns of praise, to rise
In one full chorus to the skies.
And hark ! a welcome sound I hear,
The matin-bell is chiming clear —
Ah ! I hear it toll again —
It is the campanero's strain,

From the lofty mora tree,

Tolling loud and solemnly.

It stirs the pilgrim's heart to rise,
And yield his morning sacrifice
To Him who kept him thro' the night,
And brings again the morning light.

* See Waterton's Wanderings.

36 THE THRUSH.

On the green turf I kneel and pray,
That he would bless my onward way ;
That wheresoe'er my path is found,
Heaven's gracious dews may fall around.
And then the pilgrim's prayers ascend
For every dear and distant friend :
And while beneath the forest glade,
His lonely orisons are made,
The campanero solemnly
Is tolling from the mora tree.

And when the daylight dies away,
And evening brings her tempered ray,
The campanero's solemn strain
Falls on his listening ear again.
Sweet as the chime of vesper bell,
It seems of evening prayers to tell :
He thinks of friends, far, far away,
Who for the lonely wanderer pray.
That thought has banished half his care,
He joins with theirs his fervent prayer,
And seems, amid the twilight dim,
To hear them chaunt the vesper hymn ;
While from the lofty mora tree,
That forest-bell tolls solemnly.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Throstle, Thrush, or Mains.
Turdus Musicus. — LINN.

CONFINING ourselves, as we have done, to nar-
row limits, it will be necessary to leave some of
our sweetest song-birds unnoticed. But we

THE THRUSH. 37

would not willingly pass by the thrush — that
joyous herald of the joyous spring. In the
very dawn of spring he pours forth his sweet
and varied strains from the tops of the highest
trees. Before the primroses have unfolded their
pale blossoms, or the bursting buds begun to
tinge the woods with a shade of green, we hear
his full clear notes. To us, the continued and
far heard song of the early thrush, is associated
with our earliest enjoyment of the pure air and
sunshine, on the pleasant mornings of spring. In
those cheering hours of brightness, which break
on us after the clouds and darkness of the winter,
fraught with hopeful anticipations and images of
coming joy, who is there that has not welcomed
the thrush's song with delight? As his animated
strains resound through the valley, he seems to
call on the other warblers of the grove to rouse
from their lethargy, and join their notes of re-
joicing with his.

There are four species of thrush in this coun-
try. The song-thrush, the missel-thrush, the red-
wing, or wind-thrush, and the fieldfare. The song-
thrush is the most common species, both in this
country and in France, where it commits great
havoc in the vineyards on the approach of the
vintage season, by feeding on the ripe grapes.
In France it is certainly a migratory bird, quit-

38 THE THRUSH.

ting that country immediately after the vintage
is over ; but with us this does not seem to be
the case. It is said, there are no birds for which
more snares are set, than thrushes ; and this not
merely to secure them as singing birds, but also
as articles of food. They are considered a deli-
cacy when in good condition.

With us, the thrush is heard as early as Feb-
ruary, and continues to sing till the end of July,
or beginning of August. And here we cannot
but confess the chagrin we feel at being com-
pelled to relinquish a delightful anecdote of the
thrush which we had extracted from the Maga-
zine of Natural History, and prepared for our
own especial purpose. But, lo ! the writer of
the Architecture of Birds, has forestalled us, and
appropriated the story to his own use. We are
half inclined to quarrel with him for this, much
as we are disposed to commend his book. Alas !
for us, in the present day of endless scribbling
and countless authorship, every ill-fated writer is
in danger of treading on the heels of another,
and feels himself forced either to keep content-
edly in the back-ground, or push his fellow-tra-
veller uncivilly from the pavement. Eh bien !
of the two evils the first mentioned is, in our es-
timation, the least. So, adieu to the thrush story
for us ! Our readers will find it in the Magazine

THE PEREGRINE FALCON. 25

ants, hooded. When the prey was seen, the
falconer removed the hood, and at his cry of
leurre, the noble bird sprung into the air, and
discerning, amid the birds, the species he had
been trained to hunt, he selected his victim, pur-
sued with rapid wing, struck it to the ground,
and then returned at his master's call, to resume
his station on his hand.

The falcon can be trained in fifteen days or
a month for the chase, when taken from the
nest. The merlins, however, are by far the
most familiar and docile of the race. They do
not require to be hooded, and are easily trained
to hunt larks, .blackbirds, quails, and partridges.
This bird was particularly appropriated to the
use of the ladies ; and when the fair huntress
rode forth on her palfrey, amid the gallant train
from her father's hall, the merlin sat on her wrist,
while the less gentle species obeyed the call, and
rested on the glove of the knight, who rode at
her side. This sport was the chosen amusement
of our kings and princes, from the time of Alfred,
to the reign of king John. But it especially pre-
vailed in this country, from the days of that
mighty hunter, William the Conqueror, down to
the time of the last-mentioned monarch. " The
figure of a hawk upon the left hand," says Henry,
the historian, " was the mark by which painters

c

26

THE PEREGRINE FALCON.

in those times, distinguished persons of high
rank, of both sexes, from their inferiors ; which is
a sufficient proof that their fondness for, and
frequent use of that bird, was universally known.
So great a value did the princes and nobility of
Europe, in that period, set upon their hawks,
that they constantly carried them with them in
all their journies, and sometimes into battle; and
would not part with them, even to procure their
own liberty when they were taken prisoners.
The truth is, to resign his hawk was one of the
most dishonourable actions of which a nobleman
could be guilty, and was considered a voluntary
resignation of his nobility."*

THE SONG OF THE FALCON.

Time was, when fettered with jesses and hood,

Compelled to share in the sports of men,
In the presence of princes and warriors I stood,
And they called rne the noble falcon then.

With ladies and knights I followed the chase,
And they deemed that mine was a noble race.

Where the monarch lived in his royal towers,

Where the chieftain dwelt with his warlike crew,
Where the fair ladies sat in their courtly bowers,
There ever the falcon and merlin flew.

With the brave and the lovely I followed the chase,
And they said that mine was a noble race.

Henry's History of Great Britain.

THE TAWNY OWL. 27

On the slender wrist of the high-born dame,

The well trimmed merlin rested then ;
At the chieftain's call the falcon came,
And knew his voice 'mid a thousand men.

With horse and hound I followed the chase,
And they lauded the falcon's noble race.

But I'm nobler now, that far and free,

Unfettered by toils and trammels like these ;
I sail abroad over land and sea,
And follow the chase wherever I please.

No bell on my foot, no hood on my brow,
I am truly the noble falcon now.

ORDER ACCIPITRES.

Wood Owl. Tawny Owl. Brown Owl.
Strix Stridula.— LINN.

THE tawny owl is found in England, and many
other parts of Europe. It inhabits woods, and
usually builds its nest in hollow trees. It is this
species of owl that utters the cry, so well imitated
by the syllables tee-whit or too-wliit, and the
hollow shuddering kind of note too-whoo, of
which the syllables are lengthened by a tremu-
lous prolongation, th#t seems expressive of fear or
horror.

28 THE TAWNY OWL.

While the eagle and falcon seek their food,
and pursue their chase of the smaller animals, in
the broad light of day, the owl, who is also a bird
of prey, does not come forth in search of his, till
the approach of night : he is therefore called a
nocturnal bird of prey. In the day he shelters
himself in a hollow tree, a barn, a ruinous
tower, or any other quiet hiding-place he can
find ; for his eyes are so formed, that he cannot
bear the full light of day. Unlike the eagle, who
gazes on the noontide sun, the owl can only see
to search its prey in the dim twilight, or when
the landscape is lighted up by the soft radiance
of the moonbeams. Even then his sight is far
from being piercing, like the eagle's. But to
supply this deficiency, he is so formed, that instead
of descending on loud winnowing wings on his
prey, which might give them time to escape from
him in the dimmer distance, he moves on noise-
less pinions. His wings are so peculiarly light
and downy, that they make scarcely any sound
in passing through the air. He glides silently
round the house, or skims along the meadows,
pouncing on his prey, and rapidly devouring the
little birds, mice, &c. which he encounters in his
circuit.

There is a large white owl, the snowy owl,
found in many of the northern parts of Europe,

THE SNOWY OWL. 29

and sometimes, though rarely, seen in England
and Scotland. This bird the Tartars hold in
great reverence, in consequence of an adventure
which they say befell their great leader Jenghis
Khan. That prince, with a small army, was sur-
prised and put to flight by his enemies. He
concealed himself from his pursuers in a wood.
They followed him into his retreat, and would,
in all probability, have discovered him, had not
an owl settled on the bush under which he was
hidden. It was supposed impossible that so shy
a bird would perch close to a place where a
human being was concealed. No search was
made under the spot where the owl settled,
and thus the prince escaped from the hands of
his enemies. From that day his countrymen
held the bird sacred, and every one wore a plume
of the feathers of the white owl on his head. To
this day, the Kalmucs continue the custom on
all great festivals ; and some tribes have an idol
in the form of an owl, to which they fasten the
legs of the real bird.

SONG OF THE OWL.

In hollow trees, or ivy bowers,

I love to pass the sultry hours,

But when the flowers are bathed in dew,

I come forth and cry, too-whit, too-whoo.

THE GREAT HORNED OWL.

When the sun hath set in the west,
When the thrush is gone to his nest,
When woodland sounds are faint and few
I come forth and cry, too-whit, too-zvhoo.

What time the bat comes forth to play,
I sail abroad on pinions grey ;
I come my needful work to do,
And cry as I fly, too-ivhit, too-whoo.

Then I skim round the barn and house,
Then I hunt the little field-mouse ;
Then I chase the frog through the dew,
And cry as I fly, too-wMt^ too-whoo.

ORDER ACCIPITRES.

The Great Horned Owl.
Strix Virginia— WILSON.

THIS is a very large species of owl, found in
Virginia, and various other parts of North Ame-
rica. It feeds on young rabbits, squirrels, rats,
mice, partridges, and small birds of various kinds.
Its deep boding notes, heard in the night amid
the woods, fall on the ear of the traveller with
solemn and appalling cadence. Wilson, the
most interesting of all our writers on ornithology,
who had himself often travelled companionless
through the solitudes of North America, gives

THE VIRGINIAN OWL. 31

the following animated description of the habits
of this bird of the wilderness : — " His favourite
residence is in the dark solitudes of deep swamps,
covered with a growth of gigantic timber. Here,
as soon as evening draws on, and mankind retire
to rest, he sends forth such sounds, as seem
scarcely to belong to this world, startling the so-
litary pilgrim as he slumbers by his forest fire,
4 making night hideous." Along the mountainous
shores of the Ohio, and amidst the deep forests
of Indiana, alone, and reposing in the woods,
this ghostly watchman has frequently warned me
of the approach of morning, and amused me with
his singular exclamations. Sometimes sweeping
down and around my fire, uttering a loud and
sudden Waugh O! WaughO! sufficient to have
startled a whole garrison. He has other noctur-
nal solos no less melodious ; one of which very
strikingly resembles the half-suppressed screams
of a person suffocating, and cannot fail of being
exceeding entertaining to a lonely, benighted
traveller, in the midst of an Indian wilderness."

THE VIRGINIAN OWL.

When wand'ring afar in the woods of the west,
The traveller pauses at night-fall to rest,

32 THE VIRGINIAN OWL.

He kindles his fire, and the evening breeze
Sends the flickering light 'mid the forest-trees,
Cheered by the genial warmth it has shed,
He lies down to rest on his leafy bed ;
And sweetly he sleeps, till a sudden scream
Breaks on his slumber, and chases his dream.
Pie wakes, and the note of the night-flying bird,
Waugh O ! Waugh O ! round his watch-fire is heard,
And he knows that the forest-warder is he,

Keeping his guard round the traveller's tree.

'Watchman, what of the night ?" he cries,
And closes again his wearied eyes.

Children of luxury, come hither and see,
How the pilgrim can rest by the forest-tree ;
Though the night-falling dews descend on his brows,
Yet sweetly he sleeps beneath the green boughs.
Calmly he rests, till the night-bird again,
Rouses him up with his far sounding strain.
Notes of deep omen, that well might affright,
The wanderer that rests by that lonely light.
He wakes, and the voice of the night-flying bird,
Waugh O ! Waugh O ! round his watch-fire, is heard.
But he knows that the forest-warder is he,
Keeping his guard round the traveller's tree.
" Watchman, what of the night ?" he cries,
And closes again his wearied eyes.

33

THE SECOND ORDER.

PASSEKES.

The order Passeres is the most numerous of the entire
class. It embraces all the birds which are neither swim-
mers, nor waders, nor climbers, nor rapacious, nor galli-
naceous. The Passeres have neither the violent cha-
racter of the birds of prey, nor the fixed regimen of the
Gallinacea, or of the water-fowl. Their food consists of
insects, fruits, and grains. It is more exclusively gra-
niverous in proportion to the thickness of the bill ; and
more exclusively insectivorous as the latter is more at-
tenuated. Some, which possess a very strong bill, are
even found to pursue small birds.— Cuvier.

[It will be observed, that in arranging the Passeres, we
have followed the order of the French naturalist, though it
has not been thought necessary to notice his numerous di-
visions of genus and sub-genus.]

ORDER PASSERES.

The Bell-Bird. Campanero.
Ampelis Carunculata.

THIS is another of the beautiful and curious
birds found in the forests of South America ;
and rarely seen or heard, save by those

c 5

34 THE BELL-BIRD.

travellers whose wanderings have led them into
the deep recesses of the transatlantic wilderness.
One such wanderer has given to the world an
animated narrative of his singular and interesting
pilgrimage : and we quote from his amusing
work the following account of the campanero.

" The celebrated campanero of the Spaniards,
is called Dara by the Indians, and Bell-bird by
the English. He is about the size of a jay. His
plumage is as white as snow. On his forehead
rises a spiral tube, nearly three inches long. It
is jet black, dotted all over with small white fea-
thers. It has a communication with the palate,
and when filled with air, looks like a spire ; when
empty, it becomes pendulous. His note is loud
and clear, like the sound of a bell, and may be
heard at the distance of three miles.

" In the midst of the extensive wilds, generally
on the dried top of an aged mora, almost out of
gun-reach, you will see the campanero. No
sound or song from any of the winged inha-
bitants of the forest, not even the clearly pro-
nounced, "Whip -poor- Will,'1 from the goat-
sucker, cause such astonishment as the toll of
the campanero. With many of the feathered
race he pays the common tribute of a morning
and an evening song : and even when the meri-
dian sun has shut in silence the mouths of

if THE THRUSH. 39

of Natural History, for May, 1830 ; and in the
Architecture of Birds.

THE SONG OF THE THRUSH.

Ere the morning light

Had chased the night,
Oh ! did ye not hear a wild trilling song,
Floating the op'ning vallies among ?

From dawn of day,

That warbling lay
Seem'd as though it would charm the darkness away

Hark, how the air rings !

'Tis the mavis sings ;
And merrily, merrily sounds her voice,
Calling on vallies and hills to rejoice ;

For winter is past,

And the stormy blast
Is hastening away to the northward at last.

Awake ! land and sea,

And rejoice with me ;

Awake ! she cries, from your winter's repose,
Awake ! for the south wind softly blows ;

Wake, birds of the bowers,

The moments are ours,
Wake! wake ! and welcome the season of flowers.

Awake ! and sing,

For the joyous spring,

Is hanging green wreaths on the forest-trees,
And shedding sweet odours on every breeze.

Wake, birds of song !

Why linger so long ?
Wake ! wake ! and rejoice with our merry throng.

40 THE MOCKING-BIRD.

ORDER PASSERES.

Mocking Bird. Mocking Thrush.
Turdus polyglottus.

THIS amusing inhabitant of the American woods
is called, by the Mexicans, " the bird of four
hundred languages." It derives its name from
the talent it possesses of imitating the songs of
other birds. Its own natural song is sweet and
varied, but to this it adds the notes of almost all
the other birds it hears in the extensive forests
and savannahs of America. Its imitations do
not merit the name of mocking, since it does not
caricature the songs of other birds, but copies
them with much skill and taste, throwing in
notes of his own at intervals, and giving to the
borrowed strain added grace and harmony.

Waterton, who had many opportunities of
observing this bird in its native haunts, thus de-
scribes it: " The cassique, or mocking-bird, is
larger than the starling. He courts the society
of man, but disdains to live by his labours.
When nature calls for support, he repairs to the
neighbouring forest, and there partakes of the

THE MOCKING-BIRD. 41

fruits and seeds which she has produced in abun-
dance for her aerial tribes. When his repast is
over, he returns to man, and pays the little tri-
bute which he owes him for his protection: he
takes his station close to his house, and there,
for hours together, pours forth a succession of
imitative notes. His own song is sweet, but
very short. If a toucan be yelping in the neigh-
bourhood, he drops it, and imitates him. Then
he will amuse his protector with the cries of the
different species of the woodpecker ; and when the
sheep bleat, he will distinctly answer them. Then
comes his own song again, and if a puppy-dog,
or a guinea-fowl, interrupt him, he takes them
off admirably, and by his different gestures dur-
ing the time, you would conclude that he enjoys
the sport. The cassique is gregarious, and imi-
tates any sound he hears with such exactness,
that he goes by no other name than that of
mocking-bird amongst the colonists. At breed-
ing time, a number of these pretty choristers
resort to a tree near the planter's house, and
from its outside branches weave their pendulous
nests. So conscious do they seem that they
never give offence, and so little suspicious are
they of receiving any injury from man, that they
will choose a tree within forty yards from his
house, and occupy the branches so low down,

42 THE MOCKING-BIRD.

that he may peep into the nests. The cassique
may be said to be a model of symmetry in orni-
thology, the proportions are so fine. On each
wing he has a bright yellow spot, and his rump,
belly, and half the tail, are of the same colour:
all the rest of the body is black. His beak is
the colour of sulphur, but it fades in death."*

This bird defends its eggs and young, with
singular courage, from the attacks of its enemies,
whether birds of prey or reptiles. In Audubon's
magnificent work on the birds of America, is a
beautiful picture of mocking-birds, defending
their nest from a rattlesnake. Mr. A. has been
studying the habits of the birds of his country,
in the midst of their native haunts, for twenty-
five years, it is said ; and his animated sketches
are made from the life, and tell their own story
to the eye of the spectator.

THE MOCKING-BIRD.

Beneath the mighty forest oak,
Unshaken by the woodman's stroke,
With heat and weariness oppress'd,
The western traveller sinks to rest,

And listens, from his sheltering tree,
Bird of a thousand songs, to thee.

* See Waterton's Wanderings, p. 117-

IT M IE CJ @> OC .

THE ORIOLE. 43

Notes that to other birds belong,

Thou minglest with thy own sweet song;

Harps that the wayward breezes sweep,

Alone such varying music keep.

Whence is the changeful harmony,

That flows, sweet western bird, from thee?

Thou dost not mock, but copiest well
The warblers that around thee dwell;
And when the traveller near thee strays,
Thou giv'st him freely all thy lays;

For this, a pilgrim's blessing be,

Bird of a thousand songs, on thee !

ORDER PASSERES.

The Oriole Loriot, or Golden Thrush.

Oriolus Galbula.

THIS bird is a little larger than a blackbird. It
passes the autumn and winter in the warm cli-
mate of Africa, and comes into Europe in the
spring. It is not often seen in England, but in
France it is very abundant. It arrives there
about the middle of spring, and stays all the
summer. At first it feeds on caterpillars and
insects, completely clearing the trees on which it
alights of these destructive little creatures ; but
as soon as the figs and cherries are ripe, it at-

44 THE ORIOLE.

tacks them most voraciously, and often does as
much mischief in the cherry-orchards by devour-
ing the fruit, as it did good by freeing the trees
from insects. It has a singular cry, which has
been supposed to resemble the word oriole, or
loriot, from whence its name is derived. Some
persons in France have imagined that the notes
of its song sound like the words, " Louisat bonne
merises." Others have persuaded themselves
that it articulates

" C'est le compere loriot,
Qui mange les cerises, et laisse le noyau."

The nest of this beautiful bird is singularly
pretty : it is made of straw, flax, wool, and moss,
and lined with the softest materials, wool, spi-
ders' webs, the silky nest of caterpillars, and
feathers. This nest is fastened firmly to the
branch of a tree, from which it hangs suspend-
ed like pendent fruit.

THE ORIOLE'S SONG.

Where the Garonne pours its stream,
Where the Seine's broad waters gleam,
Where the Loire's sweet river flows,
Where the dark green olive grows,
There the golden oriole flies,
And " Louisat bonne merises," he cries.

THE REDBREAST. 45

Once the minstrel boy was seen,

Wandering through these valleys green :

Silent is the minstrel's lay,

The minstrel race have pass'd away ;
But still the golden oriole flies,
And " Louisat bonne metises" he cries.

'Tis a pleasant life he leads,

In the orchards, groves, and meads ; «

Richly does the oriole fare,

On the fruits he gathers there ;

While far on golden wing he flies,
And " Louisat bonne menses," he cries.

When the winter strips the meads,

Unto milder climes he speeds :

With the balmy gales of spring,

Back he comes on golden wing,

Then through the land again he flies,
And " Louisat bonne metises" he cries.

ORDER PASSERES.

Robin Redbreast.
Motacilla rubecula. — LINN. Sylvia rubecula.— LATHAM.

THIS little bird, so well known, and so universal
a favourite, needs no description. In summer
he is seldom seen, but when winter has stripped
the woods of their foliage, and the fields of their
flowers, then he makes his appearance, and cheers

46 THE REDBREAST.

us with his pleasant songs. The nightingale,
the blackcap, and many other warblers, migrate
to warmer climates before the winter sets in,
but the robin remains as our winter friend. He
too is in some degree a migratory bird, but he
is not a distant voyager ; and the change of resi-
dence he makes at this season, only brings him
into closer contact with man. In summer, he
makes his home in the woods and forests : there
he sings and builds, and passes the fine season
with his mate, busily assisting her in the care of
her feathered family. When winter approaches
he quits the woods, which can no longer supply
him with food, and establishes himself in our
shrubberies and gardens, feeding on the late
autumnal berries, and such insects as he can
still find. As the cold becomes more severe,
and he finds it more and more difficult to pro-
cure food, he approaches nearer to our abodes.
Rendered tame by his necessities, he comes
fearlessly to our very thresholds, to pick up the
crumbs thrown out to feed him ; and even taps
at the window with his bill, to petition for a
fresh supply. Often he advances still further,
enters our dwellings, and takes shelter beneath
the friendly roof. Here he will remain, a con-
tented guest,- until the return of spring: then he
flutters his wings, and is in haste to be gone, to

THE REDBREAST. 4<7

seek his summer pleasures in the woods. Some-
times he has been known in the winter to glide
in at the partially-opened window of the sick
chamber, and make his familiar abode near the
resting-place of the invalid. One such instance
we well remember, which occurred in the year
1826, to a gentleman in the principality of
Wales, who was at that time confined to his
chamber by a severe illness. It was at the com-
mencement of winter, and a robin had begun to
frequent the garden and shrubbery, and nestle
near the dwelling-house. Every morning, as
soon as the door was opened, he entered the
house, and flew up stairs towards the chamber of
the invalid, gaining admittance at the first op-
portunity. Once within the apartment, he esta-
blished himself on the top of a wardrobe, con-
cealing his little person behind the moulding.
Here he remained until all stir and movement
in the room had ceased, and the sick man was
left alone, with his breakfast placed before him
on a bed-table. Then was the time for robin to
show himself; and quitting his hiding-place, he
came hovering at the bed-side, glancing his
bright eye in at the opening of the curtains, as
if to ascertain that his friend was alone. Having
satisfied himself, apparently, by this scrutiny, he
flew within the curtains, alighted on the bed-

48 THE REDBREAST.

table, and commenced a brisk attack on the
bread and butter, or toast, bringing to the meal
an excellent appetite, which the invalid might
well envy him. Nothing could exceed the per-
fect ease and unfettered enjoyment of the little bird.
He seemed to feel himself on the footing of com-
plete intimacy and companionship with his en-
tertainer. He ate his fill, plumed his wing, and
sung his pleasant song, evidently fearing no evil
while no other person was in the room ; but the
moment a step was heard, he flew away to his
hiding-place and remained unseen, until the
dinner-hour found the invalid once more alone.
Then he came forth again, making his ap-
proaches in the same interesting manner as at
breakfast. It happened that a part of the sick
man^s daily food at that time was ground rice
pudding. Of this the bird was particularly fond,
and never failed to have a portion allotted to him.
But he did not confine himself to the pudding.
He would perch on a slice of bread, and feed
heartily on it, digging a large hole in it with his
bill. Then he would hop on to the edge of a
water-glass, and deliberately sip the clear liquid,
thus pledging his host with all the ease of abidden
guest. His meal ended, he would fly to the back
of a chair near the fire : there he would remain,
enjoying the warmth, dressing his feathers, and

THE REDBREAST. 49

warbling his " wood notes wild," as gaily as if he
sat in summer bowers, till the approach of
another person drove him back to his retreat,
It was expected, that when the weather became
colder, he would establish himself there for the
winter. Indeed, he had already repeatedly passed
the night in the apartment, taking up his lodging
on the top of the wardrobe. For the present,
however, he was usually only a day visitor. As
night approached, he generally found oppor-
tunity to flit away, and seek his old roosting
place in barn or shed. The morning saw him
again, an attendant on the sick couch. Again he
shared the breakfast and the dinner, and repaid
his entertainer by his cheering strains. He did
not always remain stationary in the room, but
occasionally made an excursion into the nursery.
There he was at all times a welcome guest, and
seemed to be as much at ease as in the invalid's
chamber ; feeding fearlessly on the crumbs that
fell from the children's table. This pleasant inter-
course with the little bird had been going on for
some time, when all at once poor robin's visits
ceased, and it is feared that in one of his excursions
to the nursery, he fell a prey to the pet cat, which
was also accustomed to share the children's bounty.
There is something particularly calculated to
awaken kindly feelings for the little bird, in the

D

50 THE REDBREAST.

perfect confidence he reposes in us; so that he is
safe, even when within the reach of man. There
is too an additional security for the robin, arising
out of the various proverbs and legends, which
in some sort cast a charm around him, and seem,
as by a powerful spell, to protect him from injury.
Perhaps no one thing has tended more to produce
this effect, than the pathetic ballad of the " Babes
in the Wood;" that touching story, which has
called forth more tears of tender pity in childhood,
than any other nursery tale in our language. Cer-
tain it is, that this little bird is held sacred by all.
The school-boy who ventures to do him violence,
must be a hardy fellow. Such a deed of un-
wonted cruelty would mark him with a brand
of disgrace in the eyes of his companions. His
sociability with man has acquired for him, in
many countries, some familiar name : with us,
he is Robin Redbreast ; in Sweden he is Tomi
Liden ; in Germany he is Thomas Gierdet ;
while the Norwegian peasant gives him the name,
Peter Ronsmad. Except in the summer, when
he shares his home in the wood with his mate
and his young, he is always seen alone.

Robins are never met with in flocks under any
circumstances. They are found all over Europe,
from Spain and Italy, to Sweden. They make
their nest generally near the ground, in the roots

THE REDBREAST. 51

of trees, tufts of ivy or thick bushes, concealing
it carefully from observation. They are some-
times known to cover it completely with leaves,
leaving only an entrance in an oblique direction,
and stopping it up with a leaf when they go out.
They rear two or three broods in the year. The
hen deposits from five to seven eggs in the nest,
and her companion shares with her in the trouble
of hatching them, sitting on them in the middle
of the day, when she goes in search of food.

We are compelled to admit, that robin, with all
his attractions, and all his amiable qualities, is not
celebrated for exhibiting a spirit of love and for-
bearance towards his brethren of the ruby breast.
Heis, in fact, one of themostpugnaciousandquar-
relsome of birds. Few persons can have observed
his habits, without discerning him many times en-
gaged in desperate battles. We well remember
seeing a most dexterous mouser and bird-catcher
of the feline race, rush in at the open door of a
dining-room, where a family party was assembled,
and run under the table with two robins, which
she had just pounced upon in the garden, while
in the act of fighting. So earnestly were they
engaged in the contest, that they did not per-
ceive her approach ; and she actually seized them
both by their necks at one gripe, their heads
sticking out at either side of her mouth. A ladv

D 2

52 THE REDBREAST.

seized Grimalkin as she rushed under the table,
and compelled her to relinquish her hold before
the robins were materially injured, and they in-
stantly flew off as if nothing had happened.
Whether they had courage to renew the combat
after an event so alarming to both parties, is not
known.

The robin has some notes quite distinct from
his cheerful song. One cry, which is often re-
peated in the evening and morning, can be heard
at a considerable distance, and is loud and
abrupt. He has another, which is a sort of chirp.
It seems to be a note of call, and may be so well
imitated by sucking the finger, as to assemble
all the redbreasts in the neighbourhood.

THE ROBIN.

Pretty bird, with thy ruby breast,
Thou art not of a gentle race,

And yet, to all a welcome guest,

Thou hast a high and honour'd place.

There is a tale the peasants tell,

Which round thee casts a guardian spell.

Who does not love thee, pretty bird ?

The story told in earliest years,
The legend in our childhood heard,

Unlocking all our infant tears :
That mournful story, lov'd so well.
Around thee casts a sacred spell.

THE NIGHTINGALE. 53

Who does not love the birds that flew
Round the poor babes' cold forest bed,

With leaves their lifeless limbs to strew,
And sing a requiem o'er the dead ?

Though but a tale the nurses tell,

It guards thee with a sacred spell.

Robin, thou art a welcome guest :

When winter comes with chilling gale,

Then in thy ruby corset drest,
Thee as a winter friend we hail.

Then fondly on the tale we dwell,

That round thee casts its guardian spell.

Now thou hast pour'd thy parting song

Amid the leafless forest bow'rs ;
A dirge o'er summer's dying throng.

Of falling leaves and faded flow'rs.
And having sung thy sweet farewell,
Art come thy pleasant tale to tell ;
And in the peasant's cottage dwell,
While winter reigns o'er flood and fell.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Nightingale.
Motacilla Luscinia.

THE nightingale, the most celebrated of all
our birds, is about six inches in length. Cuvier
observes : " Every body knows this songster of
the night, and the melodious and varied sounds
with which it charms the forest.11 Here, how-
ever, the naturalist errs. Many people do not

54 THE NIGHTINGALE.

live within reach of its melody ; and there are
multitudes, even in this country, who have never
heard the liquid notes of the nightingale, poured
forth from woods and thickets in those calm,
sweet evenings we sometimes enjoy in the latter
part of April and May. Though well known
to the inhabitants of the southern, eastern, and
midland counties of England, it is rarely seen
in the northern parts of the island, nor so far
west as Devonshire and Cornwall Neither is
it met with in many parts of the Principality of
Wales. Even the fertile and richly wooded
Glamorganshire, which seems to abound in such
retreats as the nightingale would select, is rarely
visited by this most accomplished melodist of
the groves.

The nightingale is a bird of passage. It
comes to us about the middle of April, and re-
mains till the autumn, when the coldness of the
atmosphere, and deficiency of food, warn it to
take its flight to other countries. It then passes
over to Africa. Some nightingales retire into
Barbary ; others take up their winter abode in
Lower Egypt. Sonnini has seen several during
the winter, feeding in the fertile plains of the
Delta; and has also been eye-witness of their
passage through some of the Islands of the
Archipelago. So powerfully is the impulse to

THE NIGHTINGALE. 55

emigrate felt by these birds, that even such as
are retained in captivity, and whose habits must
be much changed, evince great uneasiness, and
are evidently much agitated as the season for
emigration approaches. Unlike the swallows,
and many others, this bird does not wait to con-
sult with his companions, or to hold council with
the assembled families of his tribe, before he
fixes the time for his departure on his long and
perilous journey. Naturally shy and solitary,
as soon as the changing season warns him
that the time of scarcity approaches, the de-
fenceless little creature sets forth alone on his
travels, and steers his unerring course to the
distant shores. By a wonderful instinct he is
aware that a softer atmosphere and abundance
of food, will repay the labour of his voyage.
Arrived at the point at which he aimed, he re-
joices in the provisions made for his simple
wants, until another change of season reminds
him that the period for his return to Europe is
arrived. Again he sets forth alone, crosses
deserts and oceans, and comes back a solitary
visitant to his old retreats. At first, he shelters
himself in hedges on the borders of gardens and
cultivated lands, where he finds the most abun-
dant supply of food : but as soon as the verdure
of the woods and forests begins to thicken, he

56 THE NIGHTINGALE.

retreats to their shade, and shrouds himself in
their foliage. The favourite haunt of the night-
ingale is on a sheltered hill-side ; and it is said
evidently to prefer the spot where there is an
echo, and more especially where there is a run-
ning stream. In this last respect, its taste is
similar to that of many others of the feathered
race; a circumstance to which the royal psalmist
thus beautifully alludes : " He sendeth springs
into the valleys which run among the hills. By
them shall the fowls of the heavens have their
habitation, which sing amongst the branches."
In such a spot it is that he makes his summer
abode, after having selected a mate from those
who, like himself, have returned singly and
alone to the country wherein they build their
nests and rear their young. Once mated, he
rarely strays very far from his chosen home.
He has always two or three favourite trees on
which he chiefly delights to sing, and on which
he gives out all the compass of his delightful
and harmonious voice. The tree nearest the
nest is the one he especially prefers. The nest
itself is made with little art, and is much less
curious and beautiful than the nests of many
other birds. It is composed of coarse weeds,
dried leaves, and hair, and is so slightly bound
together, that it falls to pieces as soon as it is

THE NIGHTINGALE.

moved. It is usually placed near the ground,
and contains four or five eggs, of a greenish-
brown colour. While the hen-bird sits, her
mate continues near her, brings her food in his
bill, or keeps watch by her side, and sings her
sweet songs from the neighbouring tree. As
soon as the young birds have burst the shell, the
nightingale ceases to sing, and both parents
take equal care of them, feeding them with
small worms, caterpillars, and the eggs of ants
and other insects. They quit the nest before x
they are able to fly, and are then seen to follow
their parents, jumping from branch to branch.
As soon as they can flutter, the male bird re-
lieves the female from all further care of them,
and completes their education himself, till he
can dismiss them from his charge as accom-
plished nightingales, to seek their own food, and
add their sweet songs to the harmonies of the
grove. Meanwhile, the hen-bird is engaged in
preparing another nest, in which she rears a se-
cond brood before the summer is over, and some-
times, though rarely, a third. Such is the na-
tural history of this little bird, which has been
the theme of the poet's song in almost all ages,
and the delight of all who love sweet sounds and
touching symphonies. After its season of song
is over, its change of note is as wonderful as it is

D 5

58 THE NIGHTINGALE.

unatractive. " In calm weather, in the fine
nights of spring," says a writer, from whom we
have before quoted — the editor of Cuvier —
" when its voice is heard alone, undisturbed
by any other sound, nothing can be more ra-
vishing and delightful. Then it developes, in
their utmost plenitude, all the resources of its
incomparable organ. But from the setting in of
the summer solstice, it grows more sparing of its
song. It is seldom heard, and when it is, there
is neither animation nor constancy in its tones.
In a few days, at this time, the song ceases alto-
gether, and we hear nothing but hoarse cries,
and a croaking sound, in which we should in
vain endeavour to recognise the melodious Phi-
lomela.1'

Bird-fanciers have sometimes eagerly debated
the comparative merits of the Surrey and Mid-
dlesex nightingales. It is said, the London
bird-catchers give the preference to Surrey. We
take it for granted, however, that the imagina-
tive and delightful Isaac Walton, heard the
Middlesex birds, and drew from them that ad-
mirable portraiture of their strains, which
breathes the very soul of poetry. " He that at
midnight, when the very labourer sleeps se-
curely, should hear, as I have often done, the
clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising

THE NIGHTINGALE. 59

and falling, the doubling and redoubling of the
nightingale's voice, might well be lifted above
earth, and say, ' Lord, what music hast thou
provided for saints in heaven, since thou af-
fordest bad men such music on earth ?'"
However favourable the banks of the Thames
may be to the music of the nightingales, we
could say much of their harmonious songs in the
beautiful beech-woods and tangled thickets of
Hampshire, and in other song-abounding districts.
But perhaps there are few places where they are
heard more charmingly, or to greater advantage,
than on the banks of the Avon, amidst the
wooded recesses of St. Vincent's rocks, between
Clifton and the mouth of the Severn. There
are few persons familiar with that fine forest-
like tract on the left bank of the river,
known under the general denomination of Leigh
Woods, who are not also acquainted with the
sweet embowered ravine, running up from the
very shore of the stream, to nearly the summit of
the hill which has received, and well deserves,
the name of Nightingale Valley. It is at all
times a lovely spot; and we could scarcely wish
our young friends a greater treat, amid the scenes
of nature, than to visit this valley on one of
those calm moonlight nights, when it resounds
with the songs of the nightingales which have

60 THE NIGHTINGALE.

taken up their abode amidst its green recesses.
They are, indeed, to be heard all along that fine
range of wood-covered rock.

Some years since, an American gentleman, ar-
riving in England for the first time, entered it
by the port of Bristol. It was evening before
the vessel left the mouth of the Severn, to pro-
ceed up the river to the harbour. Worn out
with the fatigue of a long and harassing voyage,
he felt all the powers of mind and body ex-
hausted, and the interest and excitement natu-
rally caused by the first sight of a new country,
seemed almost chased from his mind by his worn
and jaded condition. The vessel advanced
towards the river. The moon rose, it was the
season of nightingales ; and they poured forth their
matchless strains on the ears of the delighted
stranger, as he gazed with wonder and extacy
on the beautiful scenery lighted up by the
moonbeams. It was like a fabled scene of en-
chantment to him. His fatigue vanished. He
forgot his toils, and his perils, and his weariness,
and thought only what a land of sweet song and
bright vision he was entering. On reaching
the city the scene changed indeed. His feelings
of exhaustion returned, and he sunk, almost as
soon as landed, into the torpid rest of over-wea-
ried nature. But never did he lose the delight-

THE NIGHTINGALE. 61

fill impression of his moon-lighted entrance, and
the ravishing song of birds whose notes he had
never before heard ; for America, among all her
birds of bright plumage and varied melody, can-
not boast our unrivalled nightingale.

THE NIGHTINGALE,

Beautiful nightingale, who shall recall
Thy exquisite strains, on the ear as they fall !
Gently as night-dews descend on the green,
Their source like the night-falling dews all unseen.
And every note has a cadence as sweet
As sounds that gush out where the calm waters meet ;
Soul-thrilling tones in deep solitude heard,
When by light breezes the waters were stirr'd.
Thy home is the wood on the echoing hill,
Or the verdant banks of the forest rill:
And soft as the south-wind the branches among,
Thy plaintive lament goes floating along.

Beautiful nightingale, who shall pourtray

All the varying turns of thy flowing lay !

And where is the lyxe, whose chords shall reply,

To the notes of thy changeful melody !

We may linger indeed, and listen to thee,

But the linked chain of thy harmony

It is not for mortal hand to unbind,

Nor the clue of thy mazy music to find.

Thy home is the wood on the echoing hill,
Or the verdant banks of the forest rill,
And soft as the south-wind the branches among,
Thy plaintive lament goes floating along.

62 THE BLACK-CAP.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Black-Cap.

Sylvia Atricapilla.— LATH. La Fauvette a tete noire.—
BUFF.

THIS blythe little bird visits us in the early days
of April, and makes our gardens resound with
its notes. So sweetly does it sing, that it has
sometimes been called the mock nightingale.
White describes it as having a full, sweet, deep,
loud, and wild pipe, when flitting about from
tree to tree ; but he says it is, when calmly seated,
heard to the greatest advantage. When pouring
forth its full tide of song, it gives out strains of
sweet, but inward melody, full of soft and gentle
modulations, rivalled only by the nightingale.
This tasteful observer of nature adds, that the
wild sweetness of the black-cap's note, always
brought to his recollection these lines in one of
Shakespear^s songs:

" And tune his merry throat,
Unto the wild bird's note."

The female black-caps do not arrive till a
week or two after the male birds. As soon as

THE BLACK-CAP. 63

they make their appearance, the male selects his
mate, and looks about for a suitable place in
which to build the nest. Having found a spot
which pleases him, he appears to announce it to
the female, by one of his sweetest and tenderest
songs. The place chosen, is usually in the
small bushes of eglantine, or hawthorn, or among
the branches of the woodbine. The nest is
slightly made of the dried stems and curled roots
of grass, with a little hair, bound together with
the cotton of plants. The eggs, five in number,
are of a reddish-brown colour, with spots of deep
morone. The black-cap is a bird of a most amia-
ble and affectionate temper : not only does he
most assiduously share in the labours of the hen-
bird in a state of freedom, but when taken cap-
tive with his family, he continues to feed the
young ones and the female ; even forcing the
latter to eat, when the misery she experiences
from her loss of freedom, would lead her to re-
fuse all sustenance. In time, he becomes also
much attached to the person who takes care of
him. He will call his attendant with a particular
note, and when he sees him approach, his tones
become more expressive of affection. Like the
nightingale, the fauvette, within the walls of its
prison, seems as sensible to the approach of the
season of emigration, as when flying, with unfet-

64 THE BLACK-CAP.

tered wing, among his mates of the field. So
greatly are they agitated during the autumnal
nights, that many of them actually die in conse-
quence. This unsettlement continues among
the poor little captives until the month of No-
vember, when they become tranquil again, and
continue so until the return of another season.

THE BLACK-CAP, OR FAUVETTE

Oh! fair befall thee, gay fauvette,
With trilling song and crown of jet ;
Thy pleasant notes with joy I hail,
Floating on the vernal gale.
Far hast thou flown on downy wing,
To be our guest in early spring :
In that first dawning of the year,
Pouring a strain as rich and clear
As is the blackbird's mellow lay,
In later hours of flowery May.

While April skies to grove and field,
Alternate shade and sunshine yield,
I hear thy wild and joyous strain,
And give thee welcome once again.
Come build within my hawthorn bower,
And shade thy nurslings with its flower ;
Or where my wreathed woodbines twine,
Make there a home for thee and thine.
Now fair befall thee, gay fauvette,
With trilling song and crown of jet !

©OIL® EM

THE GOLDEN-CRESTED WREN. 65

To thee a song of praise is due,

For thou art faithful, fond, and true .

Affection warm and firm as thine,

Which knows no varying nor decline,

The false and fleeting love might shame,

Of those who bear a nobler name ;

And lordly man might learn from thee,

A lesson of fidelity.

Oh ! fair befall thee, gay fauvette,

With trilling song and cap of jet !

ORDER PASSERES

The Golden-crested Wren,
Motacilla Regulus.— LINN.

THE golden-crested wren is the smallest of all
the British birds, and has sometimes been called
the English humming bird. When stripped of
its feathers, its body is about an inch long : with
its feathers, it is a little more than three inches
in length, and weighs only about seventy-six
grains. It is so small that it can pass through
the meshes of the nets, commonly used for catch-
ing small birds, and easily escapes from all cages.
A leaf is sufficient to conceal it from the most
piercing sight ; which is probably the reason why
they are so rarely seen in summer, when, no

66 THE GOLDEN-CRESTED WREN.

doubt, there are abundance in the tall trees of
our woods. Screened from observation by the
thick foliage, we perceive them not ; but as soon
as the leaves fall, they are found in tolerable
numbers, and are seen flying about, in small
troops of from ten to twelve, in company with
tit-mice and other little birds. This bird re-
mains with us all the winter, and is a constant
resident, even so far north as the Orkney Islands.
It seems able to bear great extremes of tempera-
ture, as it is found all over Europe, and has also
been met with in Asia and America. It feeds
chiefly on small insects, in search of which it
glides about with great swiftness, climbing ra-
pidly from branch to branch, and holding itself
with perfect ease in every position. Often you
may see it, head downwards, suspended by its
feet from the bough of a tree. It frequents
oaks, elms, pines, firs, and willows. Its nest is
principally composed of moss, and lined with the
softest down ; and it is curiously suspended from
the branch of a tree, by means of a sort of cordage,
formed of the same materials as the nest. There it
hangs, a soft cradle for its young ones, rocked by
the wind as it passes through the branches. In
this nest there are six or eight little eggs, not
larger than a pea. While the lady-wren sits on
them, her mate, as is the case with so many other

THE GOLDEN-CHESTED WREN. 67

birds, kindly sits by her side, and sings her his
sweetest songs. When she is obliged to quit
the nest in search of food, he takes her place, and
keeps the eggs warm till her return.

THE GOLDEN-CRESTED WREN.

Gem-like bird, with thy golden crest,
Like lovely visions rarely seen,

Seldom we find thy place of rest,
Shrouded beneath the foliage green.

'Mid the dark groves of fir and pine,
Where chiefly thou lovest to d well*

Sweet is that fairy note o f thine,
As the chime of a silver bell ;

That gently tells in a season of flowers,

Of the rapid flight of the pleasant hours ;

And a single leaf of the forest tree,

Will serve as a sheltering screen for thee ;

Concealing thee safely from every eye,

Until danger and fear have pass'd thee by.

Small as thou art, thou gem-like biid,

Yet thou hast made thy nest on high ;
And there thy warbling voice is heard,

Singing thy children's lullaby.
Lovely bird, with thy golden crown,

A kind and tender nurse art thou,
Making thy nest of moss and down,

And hanging it on the bending bough.

68 THE WILLOW-WREN.

There, rocked by the wave of the Zephyr's wings,
Amid the green branches it lightly swings ;
And a few clustering leaves of the forest-tree,
Will serve to shelter thy cradle and thee ;
Concealing thee safely from every eye,
Until danger and fear have pass'd thee by.

ORDER PASSERES.

Willow- Wren.

Motacilla Trochilus.

THIS is a very delicately formed, and beautiful
little bird, not so small as the golden-crested
wren, but still of fairy dimensions. Its move-
ments are graceful and rapid ; and it is in search
of its insect prey, that, like the golden-crested
wren, it exhibits the greatest agility. It fre-
quents hedges and shrubberies. Should you have
the good fortune to possess a retired garden, sur-
rounded by fields and woods, you have a still
better chance of seeing these fairy birds in your
domains ; and may amuse yourselves, as we have
often done, with watching them as they glide
swiftly about from tree to tree, and from flower
to flower. A very pretty sight it is, to see them
running rapidly up the trunks of the trees, and
the stems of the smaller plants, in search of

I
V

\

THE WILLOW-WREN.

69

insects, lightly stirring the leaves, and shaking
the flower-bells as they pass along. The willow-
wren does not build its nest in the trees, but on
the ground. It is composed of moss and dried
grass, and lined with hair and feathers. If you
should discover a nest before the young birds
are hatched, you will find in it six white eggs,
beautifully spotted with red. But do not put
your finger on either the nest or eggs, for so
keen is the sensibility of this little bird, that if the
nest has been touched in her absence, she dis-
covers it, and immediately deserts it, to build
another: fearful, it should seem, that he who
has visited her nest to examine her eggs, may
come again when they are hatched, to destroy
her young ones, or carry them into captivity.

To the scientific friend from whom we have ob-
tained the details of the furze-wren, we are in-
debted for the following note on the varieties of
the willow-wren : —

" Bewick mentions three sorts of willow-wrens,
and White (in his History of Selborne) gives
interesting descriptions of these birds, but I think
it requires further investigation. I have taken
much pains' to ascertain the fact, and cannot de-
cide quite on there being three sorts. The yel-
low willow-wren is properly enough described :
it is larger, and much yellower in colour, than the

70 THE WILLOW WREN.

common, and White describes the distinction of
the smaller one by the noise, chif-chaf, chif-chaf,
loud, and often repeated. I contend, both large
and smaller, if not the yellow one also, make
that noise. It is true, some willow-wrens ap-
pear rather smaller than the common sort, but I
never have found any with black legs, as mention-
ed by that clever naturalist ; and their difference
in size is very trifling. " — W. K.

THE WILLOW. WREN.

Thou fair)' bird, how I love to trace

The rapid flight of thy tiny race ;

I look from my lattice the branches among,

And see thee flit like a shadow along.

For the wild bee does not wave his wing
More lightly than thine, thou fairy thing.

Now thou art seen in the woodbine bower,
Gracefully gliding from flower to flower ;
Now climbing the stem of the asphodel,
Or the tall campanula's snowy bell.

And the wild bee does not wave his wing
More lightly than thine, thou fairy thing.

Come, fairy bird, with the glancing eye,
And graceful form, to my garden fly :
Thou com'st not to steal the nectar away,
But to search the stems for thy insect prey.
And the wild bee does not wave his wing,
More lightly than thine, thou fairy thing.

y

THE FURZE-WREN.

Come, fairy bird, and my sheltering trees
Shall shield thy wing from the ruffling breeze :
Come, merrily flit through the fragrant bed,
And visit each flower by the summer dew fed.

Hail ! sylph-like bird, on thy airy wing ;

Fly hither, fly hither, thou fairy thing.

ORDER PASSERES.
The Furze- Wren, or Dartford Warbler.

IVIotacilla Provincialis.— LINN. Le Pitchou de Provence.
—Burr.

»

THIS elegant little bird, though abundant in
many parts of England, has hitherto been so
little known to ornithologists, that even Bewick
was unable to give more than a very meagre
account of it. It has the colours of the robin,
with a more graceful form. It is about five
inches in length, of which the tail is about one
half.*

We are indebted to the kindness of the orni-
thological friend before referred to, for the fol-
lowing detailed account of its habits, which we
give in his own words.

" This is a very interesting bird, and far from

See Bewick, vol. i. page 234.

THE FURZE-WREN.

being generally known. I have occasionally
met with clever ornithologists, who have never
seen it : the more extraordinary, as it is a fre-
quenter of almost every district where furze-
bushes grow. Bewick places it next the night-
ingale, from which I infer, he thought its habits
similar to that bird; they are, however, very dif-
ferent. I have paid considerable attention to
these little warblers, and consider them decidedly
a species of wren. Their manner of flight, gene-
ral motions, and great propensity for concealment,
are all indicative of their relation to that family,
but they do not flirt their tails quite so much as
the wrens. They are so dark in colour, as to
appear almost black when flying. The Dartford
warbler, or furze-wren, as I would willingly call
it, is so peculiar in evading sight, that although
common in this neighbourhood, (the Sussex bor-
der of Surrey,) I have often been in pursuit of
them for many successive months, without get-
ting sight of a single bird; yet I have seldom
been disappointed of seeing them, when hunting
the furze for rabbits with beagles. These little
dogs disturb them more than anything else. I
have often tried beating the furze with a large
stick, when I knew they were in the bushes, but
could scarcely ever get them out that way. On
the Brighton downs, where the groups of furze in

THE FURZE-WREN. 3

some places arc thin and far apart, when these
birds have taken shelter in a small patch of them,
boys have been known to drive them from bush
to bush, until they have tired them out, and
fairly run them down. I have procured several
that have fallen a sacrifice in that way. They
seem quite out of their element when they cannot
hide. I have known them caught by the hand
in a single furze-bush, rather than quit it.
Their last resource is to creep to the lowest
part of the furze, and close to the ground ; in
which case I have known instances of their being
trampled upon, the bush, a solitary one, being
trodden all over in order to make them start from
it. Bewick says they are supposed sometimes to
winter with us : I am convinced they always
winter with us. They are the least likely of any
of the motacillas to be birds of passage, because,
as I before observed, they live almost entirely in
the thickest furze, which would, throughout the
winter, afforcj them an ample supply of food,
(insects of course,) and shelter from the bitterest
storms. Early in the spring, the male birds are
seen sitting on the tops of the furze, and singing
sweetly. Their notes are somewhat similar to
the common wren; more varied and length-
ened, but not half so powerful, and rather plain-
tive.

74 THE FURZE-WREN.

" All I can say of the eggs and nests of the
furze-wrens, must be surmise only. Some eggs
brought me by boys, I have supposed might be-
long to these birds ; but those of the willow and
common wrens, also the tit-mice, assimilate so
nearly, it is difficult to ascertain them separately,
unless the birds and nests are watched. I cannot
suppose the nest to be oval, nor does it follow it
should be shaped thus like the nests of other
wrens, because I think it would be an unneces-
sary provision, if placed in the thick furze, and
that I have no doubt is the situation usually
chosen for it. This is nearly all I know about
these birds, except that, after long enquiry, I
have found that they are known by men and boys
where the furze is abundant, by the name of
red eyes. You cannot do better than copy
Bewick's description as to the size and colour of
the birds in question.""

W. K.

THE FURZE-WREN.

THE FURZE-WREN.

Birdj)f_the desert, thy home may not be
In groves of Arabian spicery :
No dwelling hast thou in the fertile vale
Where clustering roses have scented the gale ;
The waste places are thine, sweet warbling bird,
Thy notes of joy in the desert are heard.
My spirit is glad while I listen to thee ;
There are songs in the wilderness also for me.

In the lonely wild thou hast made thy nest,
And the thorny gorse is thy place of rest,
Yet dost thou sit on its branches and sing,
Making the waste with thy melody ring.
Bird of the desert, who cheerest my way,
There's a lesson for me in thy joyous lay.
There are golden flowers on the thorny tree;
There are songs of the wilderness also for me.

Bird of the desert, I too have a song,
A hymn'of joy, as I travel along :
The fairest flowers that my pathway adorn,
Spring up in the shade of some rankling thorn.
Strains of thanksgiving and praise be mine,
For blessings more lofty and lasting than thine.
My spirit is glad while I listen to thee ;
There are songs in the wilderness also for me.

76 THE YELLOW WAGTAIL.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Yellow Wagtail.

Motacilla Flava.— LINK. La Eergeronette de Printems.

Black-and- White Water- Wagtail.

Motacilla Alba. La Lavandiere.

THIS sprightly race of birds, so common in all
parts of the country, Bewick observes, may be
easily distinguished by their brisk and lively
movements, and by the great length of their
tails, which they jerk up and down continually,
deriving their name from this peculiarity in va-
rious European countries.

We have three species in England — the two
mentioned above, and the grey wagtail, Mota-
cilla Boarula. Of these, the yellow, is the most
attractive to the eye, and deservedly ranks as
one of the most elegant of our birds. The yel-
low wagtail is an early spring visitant to our
meadows and corn-fields, where it frequently
nestles. In the winter, it is said, by Bewick, to
haunt the sides of brooks and streams, which do
not freeze ; yet some other ornithologists speak

f

THE YELLOW WAGTAIL. 77

of it decidedly as migrating from northern coun-
tries at the approach of winter.

The M. Boarula, on the contrary, makes his
appearance amongst us at that season, and de-
parts when the other wagtails come to us in the
spring. Unlike the Motacilla Provincialis, from
which we have just parted, the yellow wag-
tail does not make his abode in the lonely
waste, or unfrequented heath. Guided by the
unerring instinct implanted in their breasts by
the great Author of Nature, these little birds
fly to the cultivated lands best adapted to sup-
ply them with food, and follow in the tracks of
flocks and herds, where the flies and other in-
sects they seek may be the most abundantly
found. It is from their thus frequenting the
paths of the shepherd and the herdsman, that
the French have given them the name of Berge-
ronette, adding to it that of Print ems, from their
early appearance in spring.

The Motacilla Alba or black-and-white water-
wagtail, is more universally known, and is indeed
more familiar with the human race. It is seen
continually near our habitations during the spring
and summer months, either flying and sporting
in the air, or running nimbly along the ground,
and leaping up after flies and other insects. Its
ebon and ivory plumage, jet black and pure

78 THE YELLOW WAGTAIL.

white, greets our eyes in the field, by the way-
side, on the village common, and the borders of
ponds and streams. Little distrustful of man,
it enters our gardens, running rapidly over the
lawn, seeking for food. While yet the dew is
on the grass, and the insect race have scarcely
roused them from their slumbers, we see the
sprightly bird scudding over the green turf
in all directions. He flies fearlessly in the
path of the labourer, and is not disturbed by
the noisy merriment and gay sports of the chil-
dren, tripping lightly in their neighbourhood
while they play, as if he would willingly join in
their gambols. Its favourite haunts are the
shallow margins of running waters. In France
it often approaches the washer-women while en-
gaged in their labours on the banks of the
streams, and seems, by the motion of its tail, to
imitate their beating of the linen, from whence
the French have given it the name of la lavan-
ditre. They make their nests on the ground,
and lay five or six eggs of a bluish white, spotted
with brown. Nothing can exceed their attention
to their young, in which the male bird takes his
share with the female. They defend them cou-
rageously when attacked, and like the lapwing
and some other birds, will meet the enemy, fly
around him, and seek by every means to mislead

BLACK-AND-WHITE WATER- WAGTAIL.

him and withdraw his steps from the nest, which
they often succeed in doing. If the nest and its
cherished inmates should be captured, despite
all their efforts, they are seen flying round the
head of the spoiler, uttering piercing cries, as if
to move him to compassion.

So careful are they to guard against the possi-
bility of such an event, that they most scrupu-
lously remove everything from the neighbourhood
of the nest, which could serve to point out its
situation. So particular are they in this respect,
that they have been known to carry away paper
or straw, which has been laid as a mark to trace
out the hiding-place. The principal part of
these birds migrate in October ; a few only re-
maining in this country. During the season in
which they are absent from us, they are found
in great numbers in Egypt, and likewise in
Senegal, but they pass away from those coun-
tries in the spring, and return to our climate
about the end of March.* In a book which aims
rather to be a popular introduction to ornitho-
logy, than a work of scientific pretension, we
have not thought it necessary to give minute de-
tails of the form and colouring of this lively little
bird, so familiar to all; nor is it needful that we

* See Griffith's Cuvier.

80 BLACK-AND-WHITE WATER-WAGTAIL.

should say much to recommend it to the favour
of our readers, for it comes to us with the prim-
roses and violets, and is one of the many plea-
sant harbingers of the season of sunshine and
flowers.

THE BLACK-AND-WHITE WATER- WAGTAIL

The children's shouts of glee

Were heard on the daisied green,
When the ebony and ivory

Of thy glossy plumes were seen.

Like thine their joyous bound,
And the bright, quick glancing eye,

And bird-like voices, of silver sound,
Were hailing thee merrily.

Still, gently as breeze-borne flowers,

Thou art flitting across the lawn ;
But the playmates of former hours,

Where are they with their light steps gone ?

Thou art here, the same gay creature,
But they, on the wide world thrown,

Are changed in form and feature,
And with voices of deeper tone.

Still thy visits their bright looks bring,

And our prayers ascend the while,
That the Guide of thy feeble wing,

On the children's path may smile .

L.

THE SWALLOW. 81

ORDER PASSERES.

The Common Chimney-Swallow.
Hirundo Rustica.

OF the swallow and its habits so much has
been said and written, that it seems scarcely ne-
cessary to do more than mention its name, to
bring before our readers the remembrance of its
peculiarities. Its social habits in building within
the walls of our chimnies, its summer sojourn
in our island, the autumnal congregating of its
tribes, holding council on the approaching
voyage, and the distant journies over pathless
wastes and wide-extended waters, that follow,
all these particulars are well known. It is no
longer a matter of debate whether they emigrate
from this country ;

"• Or if, as colder breezes blow,

Prophetic of the waning year,
They hide, tho' none know where or how,
In the cliff's excavated brow,
And linger torpid there.

Or if, by instinct taught to know

Approaching dearth of insect food,
To isles and willowy aits thy go,
And bending on the pliant bough,

Sink in the dimpling flood."*

* Charlotte Smith.

82 THE SWALLOW.

So difficult, however, has it proved to ascertain
the fact of their emigration, that even the acute
and observant White, who is so rarely mistaken
in a point of this sort, was led, by various cir-
cumstances which fell under his own notice, to
favour the opinions alluded to in the preceding
stanzas, which we have quoted from the pages of
a writer cotemporary with the naturalist of Sel-
borne. The investigations of succeeding natu-
ralists have put the matter beyond a doubt ; and
it is now universally admitted, that, though
some individuals may remain in this country,
the great body of swallows migrate. As the
flight takes place in the night, when the pre-
vailing darkness protects them from many dan-
gers to which they would be exposed by day, we
can only watch the preparatory movements.
These are truly curious and interesting; and
from no spot, with which we are acquainted, can
they be seen to greater advantage than in that
pleasant woodland village of Selborne, where the
amiable historian of his native valley was wont
to observe their movements, watching their de-
parture and return with the enquiring eye of the
philosopher, and the enthusiasm of the poet.
But in all places it is delightful to go forth
while the woods are still arrayed in the varied
livery of autumn, leaves of all hues, and watch

THE SWALLOW. 83

the assembling of these wonderful birds, flitting
over our heads in airy circles and countless num-
bers. The migration of the swallow seems to
have been noticedin almost all ages and countries.
It is alluded to by the prophet Jeremiah : " the
turtle and the crane and the swallow, observe
the time of their coming." The poets of Greece
and Rome have celebrated the arrival of this so-
cial bird in melodious strains, blending with its
natural history many an imaginary circumstance
and fanciful legend. The purity of its ap-
pearance, its graceful and rapid flight, its con-
tinuing long on the wing, and never resting on
earth, has invested it with a character which
speaks to the reflecting mind of a purer world ;
and renders it a fit emblem of the life of a Chris-
tian not chained to earth, though seeking on its
surface the daily supply of daily wants.

We have spoken of its departure, which fore-
tells approaching glooms and stormy skies ; but
the time of its re-appearance is a season of joy
and rejoicing. When the trees are unfolding
their leaves, and the endless profusion of wild-
flowers begins again to gladden our eyes in the
woods and fields, then do we look out for the swal-
low ; especially from about the eighth or tenth of
April, to the fourteenth or sixteenth, we are
making enquiry after the expected visitant. If we

84 THE SWALLOW.

see her not ourselves, we are at least anxious to
learn if others have been more fortunate ; and
when at length she flies before us, we hail her
as the sure herald of brighter days, and forget
for a moment the sage adage, so often dealt
out to us by the wise and prudent, that " one
swallow does not make a summer." It is a
sober truth which we may not deny, yet doth
the first swallow, come she early or late, bring
fair summer promises, which we hope ever to
welcome with delight. The physician carries
the intelligence of her arrival to the chamber of
the invalid, as the cheering presage of a more
genial season ; the aged man rests on his staff,
and watches with pleasure the swift flight of the
new-comer, as she sweeps over the valley ; the
little child tells the news to his mates of the
nursery and the school-room, and they rejoice in
the pleasant tidings.

" The welcome guest of settled spring,

The swallow too is come at last !
Just at sunset, when thrushes sing,
I saw her dash with rapid wing,

And hail'd her as she past."*

Charlotte Smith.

THE SWALLOW. 85

THE SWALLOW.

What joy, welcome herald, thou bringest
To our homes o'er the sun-bright sea !

What glad lays of summer thou singest,
When she visits our shores with thee.

But she flies, and the warm spell is broken
That bound thy swift wing so long :

Sweet bird, to our hearts thou hast spoken,
In the notes of that farewell song.

Still thy soft hymns of praise art thou pouring ;

Still on heaven's gentle airs dost thou fly ;
So above should our spirits be soaring,

To bask in a brighter sky.

Oh ! the path of the worldling is chilling,
He knows but the winter of time ;

While the soul of the Christian is thrilling,
In the light of a purer clime.

ORDER PASSERES.

Goat-sucker. Fern-Owl. Night- Jar. Churn-Owl.
Caprimulgus Europaeus.

OF this curious and interesting race of birds,
Cuvier observes that they have the same light
and soft plumage, shaded with grey and brown,

THE FERN-OWL.

as the nocturnal birds. In fact, they may be
said to be half night-birds, or rather twilight-
birds, flying abroad only in the twilight, or in
fine nights. They have an enormous mouth, still
more deeply cleft than the swallow : this is fur-
nished with strong mustachios, called by natural-
ists, vibrissce, and is capable of receiving the larg-
est insects ; such as chaffers, night-beetles, and
moths. When once within his extended beak,
this bird is said to have no occasion to close it
to secure his prey from escape ; nature has fur-
nished him with a gluey secretion, which falling
on the insects, effectually detains them. The
fern-owl, of which we have given the figure, is
the only species found in Europe. It has re-
ceived several popular names beside those men-
tioned above, such as square-tailed swallow, night-
raven, night-hawk, dor-hawk, puckeridge, &c.

White, of Selborne, seems to have been the
first English naturalist who paid much attention
to the habits of this bird. To him it was a
source of great amusement, as he watched it
darting about on rapid wing in the summer twi-
light, or listened to its jarring note, which he
compared to the clattering of castanets.* He

* " The Fern-Owl," says this naturalist, " from the dusk-
till day-break, serenades his mate with the clattering of
castanets."

THE FERN-OWL. 87

mentions it, among other sources of interest, in
the Naturalist's Summer Evening Walk, in an
elegantly written little poem, bearing that title.

u While deepening shades obscure the face of day,

To yonder bench, leaf- sheltered, let us stray,

To hear the drowsy dor come brushing by

With buzzing wing, or the shrill cricket cry;

To see the feeding bat glance through the wood,

To catch the distant falling of the flood ;

While o'er the cliff th' awakened churn-owl hung,

Through the still gloom portracts his chattering song."

This bird passes only a small part of the year
with us ; it is found in every part of the old con-
tinent, from Siberia to Greece, Africa, and India.
It arrives in* England about the end of May,
and quits it again about the middle of August.
During this period, it may be seen wheeling
about in mild still evenings, when its peculiar
note may be heard to a considerable distance.
This bird is solitary in its habits, two being
rarely seen together. It frequents wood-covered
hills, heathy plains, and especially spots where
the fern plant abounds. It is said to make no
nest, but merely to deposit its eggs in a hole at
the foot of a tree or rock, or even on the plain
ground : two or three eggs is the usual number.
They are rather larger than those of a blackbird,
oblong, shaded and marbled with brown on a
white ground : the female is said to hatch the

88 THE FERN-OWL.

eggs with the greatest solicitude. If she has
reason to think they have been observed, she
has been known to change their situation, push-
ing them forward very dexterously with her wing
till she has conveyed them to a safe spot, and
sometimes even carrying them there in her bill.
Its manner of perching is peculiar, placing itself
longitudinally on the branch, which it seems to
tread in the manner of the domestic cock. When
in this situation, it is very difficult to discern it,
the colours of its plumage so nearly resembling
the bark of a tree, that it cannot be detected
without the closest scrutiny. It is when thus
placed, that it utters its peculiar cry, which is a
sort of croak; the sound it makes in flying is
quite different, but not less peculiar. This is
the humming, whirring noise, which some have
compared to a spinning-wheel, and which White
has described as resembling the ringing of casta-
nets : it is in its rapid, airy, excursive flight after
its prey, which it takes on the wing, that this
sound is produced. Some have supposed it to
be occasioned by the vast volume of air it en-
gulphs in its capacious throat, as it flies about
with its mouth open, while others consider it
merely a variety in its note. The accurate
White was of that opinion, as will be seen in the
following extracts from his correspondence with

THE FERN-OWL. 89

Mr. Markwich, which will serve to bring both the
naturalist and the bird before you in an inter-
esting point of view.

" There is no bird, I believe, whose manners
I have studied more than that of the caprimul-
gus, as it is a wonderful and curious creature.
I have always found, that though sometimes it
may chatter as it flies, as I know it does, yet in
general it utters its jarring note sitting on a
bough. I have for many a half-hour watched
it as it sat, with its under mandible quivering,
and particularly this summer. It perches usually
on a bare twig, with its head lower than its tail.
This bird is most punctual in beginning its song
exactly at the close of day : so exactly, that I
have known it strike up, more than once or
twice, just at the report of the Portsmouth even-
ing gun, which we can hear when the weather is
still. It appears to me past all doubt, that its
notes are formed by organic impulse — by the
powers of the parts of its wind-pipe, formed for
sound, just as cats purr. You will credit me, I
hope, when I assure you, that as my neighbours
were assembled in an hermitage by the side of a
steep hill, where we drink tea, one of the churn-
owls came and settled on the cross of that little
straw edifice, and began to clatter, and continued
his notes for many minutes. We were all struck

90 THE FERN-OWL.

with wonder, to find that the organs of that
little animal when put in motion, gave a sensible
vibration to the whole building. This bird also
sometimes makes a small squeak, repeated four
or five times." In another letter, written also
from his pleasant Selborne, he says : " On the
12th of July, I had a fair opportunity of con-
templating the motions of the fern-owl, as it
was playing round a large oak that swarmed with
fern- chaffers. The powers of its wing were
wonderful, exceeding, if possible, the various
evolutions and quick turns of the swallow genus.
But the circumstance that pleased me most was,
that I saw it distinctly, more than once, put out
its short leg while on the wing, and, by a bend
of the head, deliver something into its mouth.
If -it takes any part of its prey with its foot, as
I have now the greatest reason to suppose it
does these chaffers, I no longer wonder at the
use of its middle toe, which is curiously fur-
nished with a serrated claw."

TKis last opinion of White's has been much
controverted: some have supposed that the
movement of the foot towards the mouth of the
bird, was merely to enable it to comb out the
hairs of its mustachio, when ruffled by catching
its prey. A very probable solution of this diffi-
culty may be found in the following suggestion

THE FERN-OWL. 91

of a writer in the Magazine of Natural History ;
viz. that the singular claw of the fern-owl is
formed for the purpose of detaching the short
hooked claws of the beetles or chaffers, which are
occasionally fixed to the side of the mouth, and
must impede the birds swallowing them.

White seems to have been, as we before observ-
ed, the first English naturalist who accurately
noted the peculiarities of this bird. In the
green recesses of his own beloved village, he lin-
gered, ift many a calm summer evening, to watch
the flight of the fern-owl, chasing its insect prey
amid the trees, and producing the singular sound
which he compares to the clattering of castanets.
To those who, dwelling in the neighbourhood of
Selborne, have been reared from childhood in
enthusiastic admiration for that picturesque vil-
lage, and an almost affectionate interest for every
thing connected with the memory of the natu-
ralist, the sight and sound of this bird will ever
recall Selborne to their recollection with vivid
feelings of delight. Were we to meet with it
at the farthest ends of the earth, we should in a
moment be transported to Selborne, and live
over again some of the sunniest days of our
lives, when, in the society of those dearest to us,
we made our summer pilgrimages to the village,
and paid our devoirs at the shrine of the amiable

92 THE FERN-OWL.

and unaspiring naturalist, pausing at every
spot which more especially recalled him to our
remembrance. His name, as a naturalist, has
gone abroad to the world, and gathered fame he
never sought. Perhaps, could he have foreseen
the future, this fame would have been less grate-
ful to his gentle and benevolent spirit, than the
knowledge that he would leave a memorial in
the hearts of his neighbours, which should de-
scend through successive generations, and the
children's children of those whom he knew,
should look on their excursions to the scene of
his scientific labours, as bright eras in their days
of enjoyment. That the man who wins golden
opinions abroad, is without honour in his own
country, is too often true ; but we know of at
least one happy exception to the rule in White,
the naturalist of Selborne.

THE FERN-OWL.

Hark ! hark ! within the beechen shade,
The clattering castanets I hear ;

'Tis the fern-owl's serenade,
In his circuit hovering near.

That whirring sound is dear to me

As strains of gentler melody.

THE FERN-OWL. 93

I've heard it when, in by -gone hours,

With friends beloved I wandered far,
Or rested in sweet woodbine bowers,

Till evening sent her silver star.
And then we hailed the gem of night,
And walked with joy beneath its light.

How often have we silent stood,

To listen, chattering bird, to thee ;
And lingering, paused beside the wood,

To catch thy rugged symphony ;
And thought that in that tranquil shade,
The fern-owl pleasant music made.

With nature's genial love inspired,

Wandering within his green domains,
Thee, Selborne's tuneful sage admired,

And praised thy rude and jarring strains.
And loved at summer's closing day,
To watch thee in the twilight grey.

Within those verdant precincts still,
When summer nights are soft and balm,

Thy note on Selborne's wood-crowned hill,
Is heard in twilight's hour of calm :

But Selborne's sage no more is seen,

Pacing amid the alleys green.

Yet lives he in his pleasant page,

And every fossil, bird and flower,
Around the ruined hermitage,

Or in his own deserted bower,
Becomes a relic rich and rare,
Because it stands recorded there.

He sought, with unambitious aim,

Lone Nature's secret steps to trace ;
Nor knew the charm his honoured name

Would cast around his native place ;
Till distant travellers thither bound,
Deem that they tread on classic ground.

94 THE WHIP-POOR-WILL.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Whip-poor-Will.
Caprimulgus Vocif'erus.

WE follow the account of our own caprimulgus,
with a sketch of the habits of another singular
bird of the same tribe, found in North and South
America. For this purpose, we shall have
recourse to the volumes of Wilson, the American
ornithologist, who thus records the result of his
own personal observation of the peculiarity of the
Caprimulgus Vociferus : —

" This is a singular and very celebrated species,
universally noted over the greater part of the
United States, for the loud reiterations of his fa-
vourite call in spring ; and yet, personally, he is
but little known, most people being unable to
distinguish this from the other species ; and
some insisting that they are the same.

On or about the twenty-fifth of April, if the
season be not uncommonly cold, the whip-poor-
will is first heard in Pennsylvania, in the even-
ing, as the dusk of twilight commences, or in the
morning, as soon as dawn has broken. The

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 95

notes of this solitary bird, from the ideas which
are naturally associated with them, seem like the
voice of an old friend, and are listened to by
almost all with great interest. At first they
issue from some retired part of the woods, the
glen, or mountain ; in a few evenings, perhaps,
we hear them from the adjoining coppice, the
garden-fence, the road before the door, and
even from the roof of the dwelling-house, long
after the family have retired to rest. Some of
the more ignorant and superstitious, consider
this near approach as foreboding to the family
nothing less than misfortune, sickness, or death
to some of its members ; these visits, however,
occur so often without any bad consequences,
that this superstitious dread seems rather on the
decline.

He is now a regular acquaintance. Every
morning and evening his shrill and rapid repeti-
tions are heard from the adjoining woods ; and
when two or more are calling out at the same
time, as is often the case in the pairing season,
and at no great distance from each other, the
noise, mingling with the echoes from the moun-
tains, is really surprising. Strangers, in parts
of the country where these birds are numerous,
find it almost impossible for some time to sleep ;

96 THE WHIP-POOR-WILL.

while to those long acquainted with them, the
sound often serves as a lullaby to assist repose.
These notes seem pretty plainly to articulate the
words which have been generally applied to
them, whip-poor-will, the first and last syllable
being uttered with great emphasis, and the
whole in about a second to each repetition; but
when two or more males meet, their whip-poor-
will altercations become much more rapid and
incessant, as if each were straining to overpower
or silence the other. When near, you often
hear an introductory cluck between the notes.
At these times, as well as at almost all others,
they fly low, not more than a few feet from the
surface, skimming about the house, and before
the door, alighting on the wood-piles, or settling
on the roof. Towards midnight, they generally
become silent, unless in clear moonlight, when
they are heard with little intermissioti till morn-
ing. During the day, they sit in the most re-
tired, solitary, and deep-shaded parts of the
woods, generally on high grouua, where they re-
pose in silence. When disturbed, they rise
within a few feet, sail low and slowly through
the woods, for thirty or forty yards, and gene-
rally settle on a low branch, or on the ground.
Their sight appears deficient during the day,

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 9?

as, like owls, they seem then to want that viva-
city for which they are distinguished in the
morning and evening twilight.

The whip-poor-will is nine inches and a half
long, and nineteen inches in extent. The bill is
blackish, a full quarter of an inch long, much
stronger than that of the night-hawk, and bent
a little at the point. The under mandible arched
a little upwards, following the curvation of the
upper. The nostrils are prominent and tubular,
their openings directed forwards. The mouth is
extravagantly large, of a pale flesh-colour within,
and beset along the sides with a number of long,
thick, elastic bristles, the longest of which ex-
tends more than half an inch beyond the point
of the bill, and curves inwards. These seem to
serve as feelers, to prevent the escape of their
prey. The eyes are very large, full, and bluish-
black. The plumage is variegated with black,
pale cream-brown, and rust colour, sprinkled in
such minute <=treaks and spots, as to defy de-
cription. The 1>ack is dark, and finely streaked
with black."

We cannot close our account of the whip-
poor-will, without giving an amusing extract
from the pages of Waterton, which will introduce
to your notice some other species of this singular
and interesting race of birds. " When the sun

F

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL.

has sunk in the western woods," says Waterton,
" when you can only see a straggler or two of
the feathered tribe, hastening to join his mate,
already at its roosting-place ; then it is that the
goat-sucker comes out of the forest, where it has
sat all day long in slumbering ease, unmindful
of the gay and busy scenes around it. Its eyes
are too delicately formed to bear the light, and
thus it is forced to shun the flaming face of day,
and wait in patience, till night invites him to
partake of the pleasures her dusky presence
brings. The harmless, unoffending goat-sucker,
from the time of Aristotle to the present day,
has been in disgrace with man. Father has
handed down to son, and author to author, that
this nocturnal thief subsists by milking the
flocks. Poor, injured little bird of night, how
sadly hast thou suffered, and how foul a stain
has inattention to facts put upon thy character !
Thou hast never robbed any man of any part of
his property, nor deprived the kid of a drop of
milk. When the moon shines bright, you may
have a fair opportunity of examining the goat-
sucker. You will see it close by the cows,
goats, and sheep. Approach a little nearer — he
is not shy :

" He fears no danger, for he knows no sin."

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. \)\)

See how the nocturnal flies are tormenting the
herd, and with what dexterity he springs up and
catches them, as fast as they alight on the
animals. Observe how quiet they stand, and
how sensible they seem of his good offices, for
they neither strike at him, nor tread on him,
nor try to drive him away as an uncivil intruder.
Were you to dissect him, and inspect his
stomach, you would find no milk there. It is
full of the flies which have been annoying the
herd. The prettily mottled plumage of the
goat-sucker, like the owl, wants the lustre which
is observed in the feathers of the birds of day.
This at once marks him as a lover of the pale
moon^s nightly beams. There are nine species
here, (in the woods of South America.) The
largest appears nearly the size of the English
wood-owl. Its cry is so remarkable, that having
once heard it, you will never forget it. When
night reigns over these immeasurable wilds,
whilst lying in your hammock, you will hear the
goat-sucker lamenting like one in deep distress.
A stranger would never conceive it to be the cry
of a bird. He would say it was the departing
voice of a midnight murdered victim, or the
last wailing of Niobe for her poor children.
Suppose yourself in hopeless sorrow ; begin with
a high loud note, and pronounce " ha, ha, ha,

F 2

100 THE WHIP-POOR-WILL.

ha, ha, ha, ha,"" each note lower and lower, till
the last is scarcely heard, pausing a moment or
two betwixt every note; and you will have some
idea of the moaning of the largest goat-sucker
in Demerara. Four other species articulate
some words so distinctly, that they have re-
ceived their names from the sentences they
utter ; and absolutely bewilder the stranger on
his arrival in these parts. The most common
one sits close by your door, and flies, and alights
three or four yards before you, as you walk
along the road, crying " who-are-you? who-who-
who-are-you ?" Another bids you " work-away,
work-work-work-away." A third cries mourn-
fully, " willy-come-go, willy-willy-willy-come-
go." And high up in the country a fourth,
tells you to " whip-poor-will, whip-whip-whip-
poor-will." You will never persuade the negro
to destroy these birds, or get the Indian to let
fly his arrow at them ; they are considered birds
of omen and reverential dread. Jumbo, the demon
of Africa, has them under his command, and they
are equally supposed to obey the Yabahou, or
Demerara Indian devil. They are the receptacles
of departed souls, who come back to earth again,
unable to rest for crimes done in their days of
nature ; or they are expressly sent by Jumbo
or Yabahou, to haunt cruel and hard-hearted

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 101

masters, and retaliate injuries received from
them. If the largest goat-sucker chances to
cry near the white man's door, sorrow and grief
will soon be inside ; and they expect to see the
master waste away with a slow consuming sick-
ness. If he be heard close to the Indian's or
negro's hut, from that night misfortune sits
brooding over it, and they await the event in
terrible suspense. You will forgive the poor
Indian of Guiana, for this : he knows no better,
he has no one to teach him."*

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL.

In the wide-spreading woods of the distant west,
When the song-birds of day are gone to their rest,
A wild mournful sound at nightfall is heard,
The wailing cry of a night-flying bird.
And whip-poor-will, whip-whip-whip-poor-will,
Is the cry of the wandering night-bird still.

The traveller starts when he hears the sound,
And pauses, and listens, and looks around ;
He deems it the voice of some mourning child,
Who has gone astray in the lonely wild.
And whip-poor-will, whip-whip-whip-poor-will,
Is the cry of the wandering night-bird still.

Sometimes to the skirts of the forest he comes,
Flies through our gardens, and visits our homes,

* See Waterton's Wanderings.

102 THE WHIP-POOR-WILL.

Sits on the roof-top, or rests on the trees,
And fills with strange accents the evening breeze.
And whip-poor-will, whip- whip- whip-poor-will,
Is the cry of the wandering night-bird still.

SONG OF THE WHO-ARE-YOU GOATSUCKER.

"Who-are-you ? who-who-who-are-you ?

That come to rest by the cabin-door ;
Are you a faithful friend and true ?

1 never have seen your face before.
How can I tell what honours are due,
Who-are-you ? who-who-who-are-you ?

Who-are-you ? who-who-who-are-you ?

Since my roaster's roof must shield your head ;
Foes are many, and friends are few,

What claim have you to the pilgrim's bed ?
How can I tell what honours are due ?
Who-are-you ? who-who-who-are you ?

SONG OF THE WILLY-COME-GO GOAT-SUCKER.

Willy-willy- willy-come-go,

I can no longer linger here ;
The evening breezes softly blow,

The tranquil hour of night is near.
Where the crystal waters flow,
Where the lofty pine-trees grow,
"Willy-come-go, willy-willy- willy-come-go.

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 103

Oh ! listen to my plaintive cry

And let us thro' the forest roam,
From the Indian's cabin fly,

And from the whiteman's prouder home :
Each may prove a bitter foe,
Safety here we cannot know,
Willy-come-go, willy-willy-willy-come-go.

SONG OF HE WORK-AWAY GOAT-SUCKER.

Work-away, work- work-work- away,
To the tawny Indian boy I say ;
He places his hand on his ready bow,
And looks fiercely round for his hidden foe.
And swiftly the fatal arrow would fly,
But I catch the glance of his kindling eye.

He slackens the string of his bow again,
And feels he has pointed the shaft in vain ;
That Indian boy will do me no wrong,
For he scorns to silence my idle song,
And calmly he smiles as he hears me say,
Work-away, work-work-work-away.

104 THE SKYLABK.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Skylark, or Lavrock.
Alauda Arvensis. — LINN.

NATURE, varied in all her works, has no mono-
tonous uniformity to weary us, whatever quarter
of her kingdom we examine. How diversified
are the forms, the habits, and the songs of our
birds — how various the haunts in which we find
them ! We penetrate into the depths of the
forest to detect the shy woodpecker, or listen to
the plaintive notes of the ring-dove: — we loiter in
the stately avenue to mark the busy stir of the
congregated rooks: — we roam on ocean's shore
to watch the wheeling flight, and hear the wild
cry of the sea-bird : — and we linger in the bosky
dingle, to listen to the strains of the enamoured
nightingale : — we go to the mountain heights in
search of the eagle and the ptarmigan ; and we
descend to the well-watered vallies to look on the
radiant wing of the halcyon, gleaming like a
sapphire on the surface of the tranquil waters.
The plover, the sand-piper, and the booming bit-
tern, lead us to the humid marsh. We roam

THE SKYLARK. 105

over the heathy waste, unredeemed by the toil
of man, in search of the grouse and the moor-
cock : — we rest within the cultured bound of the
garden and shrubbery, to listen to the song of
the goldfinch or the black-cap, or to watch the
tiny willow-wren, gliding from flower to flower,
lightly and noiselessly, as the airy creation of a
dream. And now we invite you, not to the
mountain or the forest, but to the open corn-
fields, and the cultivated enclosure, to observe
the skylark, pouring forth in mid air such sweet,
earnest melody, as though he would expend his
little life in the song, and you almost expect to
see him descend powerless and lifeless to the
earth : but his strength fails not ; he mounts
yet higher and higher still, and pours forth in
his ascending flight, strains so full of harmony,
that we are ready to imagine he hears and
answers the music of an unseen world. He pur-
sues his heaven-ward course, and his swelling
notes reach us still, while we gaze from earth,
till the little breeze-borne warbler becomes a dim
speck in the distance. He has reached his
highest point, but he cannot tarry there; his
strain is heard again approaching earth, his song
is still sweet, but it becomes less and less pow-
erful as he descends, and when he reaches the
ground it ceases altogether. He has no note

F 5

106 THE SKYLARK.

for earth — he has left his music in the skies :
again and again does the lark spring from his
lowly resting-place, and soar into the clouds,
renewing every time all his wondrous harmony.
His matin song is heard in the early morning
hour, and again he has pleasant vespers for the
calm decline of day. He is heard too in the
morning of the year, and his song cheers us
almost to its conclusion : he begins so early as
the middle of January, and sings on till Novem-
ber.* If he emigrates, it must be for a very
short period. Perhaps the fact may be that with
this, as well as with some other birds, emigra-
tion is only partial, and many individuals remain
in this country through the winter ; it is proba-
bly from these residents that we hear the late
and early songs, rather than from the emigra-
tors. That some do emigrate, is proved by the
circumstance of their having been met at sea, cross-
ing the Mediterranean; repeated instances have
occurred of their dropping on the decks of ships,
exhausted by their flight. In their passage from
this country, they are said first to pause and re-
pose themselves in Malta, and other eastern
islands of the Mediterranean. They afterwards

* For remarks on the notes of this and some other of our
song birds, see additional notices at the end of the book.

THE SKYLARK. 107

pursue their course to Syria and Egypt, from
whence, it is asserted, they spread into Nubia
and Abyssinia. The lark has been called the
chief musician of the fields, as the nightingale
is of the woods. The matin song of the lark was
the established signal for the reapers in ancient
Greece to begin their labours.

" The lark," says Bewick, " is diffused almost
universally throughout Europe ; it is every
where extremely prolific. It makes its nest on
the ground between two clods of earth, and lines
it with dried grass and roots. The female lays
four or five eggs, of a greyish brown, marked
with darker spots : she has generally two broods
in the year, and sits only about fifteen days.
As soon as the young have escaped from the
nest, the attachment of the parent seems to in-
crease ; she flutters over their heads, directs all
their motions, and is ever ready to screen them
from danger."

THE SKYLARK.

Gay bird of the sky

Ascending on high,

And singing sweet songs in the morning hour,
While the dew still rests on the opening flower,
And thy wing is wet by the summer shower.

108 THE SKYLARK.

So sweet is th j lay

Heard far, far away,

While the swelling notes to the clouds aspire,
As though they were caught from an angel's lyre,
And echoed the strains of the heavenly choir.

I have watched thy descent

When weary and spent,

But not long on the earth didst thou lingering remain
Thou wert soon on thy airy track again,
And filling the sky with thy joyous strain.

Tho' the fetters of clay

My flight would delay,
Tho' heavy griefs to my spirit may cling,
Like thee I would spread forth the feeble wing,
And songs of thanksgiving and gratitude sing.

When weary and worn

To earth I am borne,
Not long would my fluttering spirit delay,
But soaring again on my heaven-Avard way,
I would hasten my flight to the portals of day.

And the choral hymn
Through the distance dim,
Should lure me along on my heavenly flight,
Ascending through glorious regions of light,
To gaze on the vision unspeakably bright.

THE WOODLARK. 109

ORDER PASSERES.

The Woodlark.
Alauda Lulu. — CUVIER. Alauda Arborea. — LINN.

WHILE the skylarks delight in the open fields,
and fear not that the winds of heaven will visit
them too roughly, the woodlarks, on the con-
trary, seek the pleasant shelter of the wood-side,
and pour forth their songs from beneath its
shade ; they often sing also on the wing like the
skylark. It is not only during the bright hours
of day that their strains resound ; at set of sun,
and even far into the night, in hot summer wea-
ther, they are heard singing in the air.

" What time the timorous hare limps forth to feed,
When the scared owl skims round the grassy mead ;
Then high in air, and poised upon his wings,
Unseen the soft enamoured woodlark sings."

These birds are found in Siberia, Poland,
Germany, Holland, Italy, parts of France and
Spain, and in England. Early in the spring
we hear them warbling together in great num-
bers ; as the season advances, their songs become
more full and sweet, and they pair, and separate,

110 THE WOODLARK.

and build their nests. Then it is that the
woodlark, seated on a tree near his mate, pours
forth his most delightful songs. As soon as the
young ones come out of the shell, he engages
busily with the mother-bird in providing for
their wants. The nest is made on the ground,
in furrows, covered with grass and brambles,
and usually on the borders of a wood. But it
is only in spring, summer, and autumn, that
the woodlarks are to be found in these retreats.
At the close of Autumn, they quit these summer
haunts, and retire into the open stoney fields ; here
they assemble in flocks of from thirty to fifty in
number, never mingling with any other species.
Their summer songs are then no longer heard,
and they utter only a plaintive sort of cry, re-
sembling the syllables lu-lu, from whence they
derive the name given them by the French na-
turalists.

THE WOODLARK.

Dost thou love to hear the song-birds of spring ?

Are their notes as voices of joy to thee ? —
Then fly to the grove where the woodlarks sing,

Rejoicing once more in their vernal glee.
The spring time is come, the winter is past,

And the \voo;llarks' songs are cheerful once more :

THE SPARROW. Ill

Their sorrows have fled with the wintry blast,

And soft-flowing lays through the woodlands they pour ;
Forgetful how lately the winter wind blew,
And they sung the sad notes of their plaintive lu-lu.

With kindred and clan they mingle the strain,

And love by the birds of their race to abide ;
And they come to their forest haunts again,

To build their low nests by the green hill side.
When the stormy winds unroof their retreat,

And wither the wreaths of their summer bowers,
Then afar in the valley the wanderers meet,

And seek to beguile the sad wintry hours.

While chilled by the night wind, and bathed by the dew,
They chaunt in soft concert their plaintive lu-lu.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Sparrow.
Fringilla domestica. — LINN.

THE most bold and mischievous of the feathered
tribe in this country, is the sparrow. Invited
or uninvited he heeds not, but freely takes his
station in our fields, our gardens, our yards,
and under the eaves of our houses. Sometimes
he even dislodges the martin from his clay
cottage, built with so much labour, coolly
taking up his abode in the usurped tenement,
and rearing there his young, as if it had de-
scended to him by hereditary right, and been

112 THE SPARROW.

the home of his fathers, and the cradle of his
infancy. In the winter, when we scatter crumbs
for robins and other woodland favourites, whose
usual resources have failed them in their hour of
need, the sparrows come unbidden to the ban-
quet, and too often possess themselves of the
greater portion of the feast spread for others. At
all seasons they are ever at hand. In the fields
they devour the grain ; in the gardens and orchards
they attack the fruit ; in the farm-yard they rob
the wheat-rick, and share the provisions of the
poultry. At the same time, there is in their air
and carriage an appearance of audacity, which is
sometimes almost provoking, and at other times
exceedingly amusing. To give them their due
portion of praise, they certainly do benefit us by
destroying an immense number of caterpillars;
but on the other hand they devour grain in such
enormous quantities, as seems far more than an
equivalent for the service they do us in the de-
struction of insects. A French writer on rural
economy, has calculated that the grain con-
sumed by sparrows in France annually, is worth
ten millions of franks. We cannot therefore
wonder that farmers and gardeners wage perpe-
tual warfare with these pilferers. Indeed, there
are few persons who are disposed to grant them
protection, for while they render themselves ob-

THE SPAKROW. 113

noxious by their depredations, they have no
sweet voice of song to plead in their behalf, as
many of the fringilla tribe have, especially the
goldfinch. The sparrow has only a short chirping
note, which is not sufficiently musical to recom-
mend him to our notice. Yet he is not without
some beauty of plumage, when his colours are
not dimmed by the smoke and dirt of the city,
where he seems as happily and as easily to make
his home, as in the country ; he has, too, some-
thing better than mere appearance to claim our
attention. Notwithstanding all the evil we
have said of him, he is quite a model of parental
tenderness, as the following interesting anecdote
will prove. We shall relate the story in the
words of Mr. Smellic, under whose observation
the circumstances it details occurred.

" When I was a boy," says that gentleman,
" I carried off a nest of young sparrows, about a
mile from my place of residence. After the
nest was completely moved, and while I was
marching home with them in triumph, I per-
ceived, with some degree of astonishment, both
the parents following me at some distance, and
observing all my motions in perfect silence. A
thought then struck me that they might follow
me home, and feed the young according to their
usual manner. When just entering the door

THE SPARROW.

I held up the nest, and made the young ones
utter the cry which is expressive of the desire of
food. I immediately put the nest and the young
in the corner of a wire cage, and placed it on the
outside of a window. I chose a situation in a
room, where I could perceive all that should hap-
pen, without being myself seen. The young
animals soon cried for food. In a short time
both parents, having their bills filled with small
caterpillars, came to the cage, and after chatting
a little, as we should do with a friend, through
the lattice of a prison, gave a small worm to
each. This parental intercourse continued regu-
larly for some time, till the young ones were
completely fledged, and had acquired a consider-
able degree of strength. I then took one of the
strongest of them and placed him on the outside
of the cage, in order to observe the conduct of
the parents, after one of their offspring was
emancipated. In a few minutes both parents
arrived as usual, loaded with food. They no
sooner perceived that one of their children had
escaped from prison, than they fluttered about,
and made a thousand noisy demonstrations of
joy, both with their wings and voices. These
tumultuous expressions of unexpected happi-
ness, at last gave place to a more calm and
soothing conversation. By their voices and

THE SPARROW. 115

their movements, it was evident that they earn-
estly entreated him to follow and to fly from
his present dangerous state. He seemed to be
impatient to obey their mandates ; but by his
gestures and feeble sounds, he plainly ex-
pressed that he was afraid to try an exertion
he had never before attempted. They, how-
ever, incessantly repeated their solicitations : by
flying, alternately, from the cage to a neigh-
bouring chimney-top, they endeavoured to
show how easily the journey was to be accom-
plished. He at last committed himself to the
air, and alighted in safety. On his arrival,
another scene of clamorous and active joy was
exhibited. Next day, I repeated the experi-
ment, by exposing another of the young ones on
the top of the cage. I observed the same con-
duct with the remainder of the brood, which
consisted of four. I need hardly add, that not
one, either of the parents or children, ever
again revisited the execrated cage.11

Sparrows are found in almost every variety
of climate, but only in cultivated countries.
Deserts and wildernesses they ever avoid. They
are found throughout Greece, and in Northern
Africa, in China and the East Indies, and also
as far north as Siberia. On the western coast
of Africa they are never seen ; not because of

116 THE SPARROW.

the heat, since they can support that of Egypt,
but because of the absence of that kind of food
which they require. It is only where corn and
other similar plants are cultivated that they are
seen.

It is a singular thing, that neither sparrows
nor pies are seen further north than the banks
of the Pelledoui, a river of Siberia, which is the
most remote tract in that quarter, in which corn
is cultivated. It is also asserted, that they
were never seen on that spot, until a few years
since, when the grain in question was first sown
there. How surprising is the instinct which
leads these little wanderers to the precise place
where their food is to be found, and to no other !
It does indeed forcibly remind us of the provi-
dential care of the great Author of nature, of
whom the psalmist says, u these all wait upon
thee that thou mayest give them their meat in
due season. That thou givest them they
gather." Nor less, of the beautiful and touch-
ing reference to the security of their daily pro-
vision, by which our blessed Saviour taught his
followers to dismiss all useless and despond-
ing anxiety for the future. " Behold the fowls
of the air ; for they sow not, neither do they
reap, nor gather into barns ; yet your heavenly
Father feedeth them." The sparrows in par-

THE SPARROW.

ticular, worthless as we esteem them, and of little
value as they were then considered, are espe-
cially pointed out in another place as not be-
neath the protecting care of Him who hath
formed them.

The sparrow has been, by some naturalists,
supposed to be a short liver : while others say
his existence is prolonged to the period of eight-
een or twenty years. This, however, is a point
by no means clearly ascertained; but if they live
thus long, as well as multiply with rapidity, it
is no wonder we are surrounded by such count-
less multitudes.

TO THE SPARROW.

They say thou'rt a bold^and a thievish bird,

And thy mischievous ways I have known full well;
But none are so wholly bad, I have heard,
But there's some good thing we may find to tell.
And so, saucy sparrow, I'll try and see,
If any good thing may be told of thee.

Yes, I see thee there, with thy short, thick beak,

And the saucy glance of thy roguish eye ;
'Tis as tho' my favour thou wouldst bespeak,
Or ask, in thy pertness, the reason why
I never have searched thy hist'ry. to see
How many good things may be told of thee.

118 THE JAVA SPARROW.

I will do thee justice, thou saucy one:

I have turn'd to my book — thy name is here ;
I see there are some good things thou hast done ;
Thou hast held thy wife and thy children dear.
As the sire of thy feather'd family
There is some good thing to be told of thee.

With unwearied tenderness, day by day,

Thou hast nursed them well, and their wants supplied
And even when borne as captives away,

The prison-grate scared thee not from their side.
Thou fed'st them still as if they were free ;
Sing bravo ! that this can be told of thee.

Dost linger here still, with thy saucy face ?
IVe no more praise for thee, roguish elf;
For even thy tenderly cherished race,

I fear, will be train'd up thieves like thyself!
'Tis well, bold sparrow, there ever should be,
Even one good deed recorded of thee.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Java Sparrow.

THE habits of this bird seem little known, except
as they are exhibited in a state of captivity. He
is often brought to our coasts from the spicy
islands of the east, and pent in a cage, passes
his life as an exile and a prisoner. He is a tract-

THE JAVA SPARROW. 119

able, teachable little creature, and advantage is
too often taken of his docility, to train him to the
performance of many absurd tricks, the execution
of which must, at first, have been difficult and
painful, though use may have rendered them
comparatively easy.

The individual Java Sparrow with which we
chance to be the best acquainted, happens, much
to our satisfaction, to be free from any of these
accomplishments. He is a gentlemanly bird,
unskilled in any art which would fit him for
stage exhibition at a country fair. For some
years he has found a tranquil home in the quiet
retreat wherein he now dwells : stationed, during
the winter, in a sunny window, or, in severe
weather, in the warmest corner of the apartment,
he passes the cold season pleasantly away, often
cheering his mistress by a short, sweet song,
almost as soft and low as the faintest notes of an
^Eolian harp. When summer comes, the cage of
the little eastern captive is still seen in the win-
dow, then embowered with flowering shrubs. He
seems aware of the presence of his mistress,
answering her call by a gentle chirp. She has
often said, that she believed her little favourite
was quite insensible to the charms of music. On
one occasion, however, he evinced a lively inter-
est in it. A wandering musician one day paused

120 THE JAVA SPARROW.

at the window where he hung, and played a
sweet Italian air; in an instant the bird roused
himself, and appeared to feel all his energies
awakened : he assumed an attitude of attention
so marked as to attract the notice of his mistress,
and evidently listened eagerly as if his ear drank
in the sounds with delight. The music ceased,
and with it the animation of the little captive,
who relapsed into his usual contemplative mood;
leaving his mistress to question, in vain, what
dream of the past the strain of the wandering
minstrel had recalled; whether it carried him to
the spicy groves of his native land, and the songs
of birds he was wont to hear there; or, what is
perhaps more probable, whether it might not
bring back the remembrance of some favourite
air of a former owner, often played in his pre-
sence.

We must not fail to mention another particu-
lar of the pretty Javanese. When he first came
to his present home, he had a fair companion who
shared his cage with him : the lady-sparrow in a
few weeks sickened and died; her mate soon after
moulted, when the white spots on the side of his
head became black, and remained so till the
next moulting season: he then laid aside
his mourning garb, and resumed his former
appearance.

THE JAVA SPARROW. 121

SONG OF THE JAVA SPARROW.

In the Library at D Cottage.

You ask me, lady, why the hours

Fleet gaily in this home of mine —
This sunny home, where fragrant flowers

Above their marble base entwine; —

If sage's lore or poet's lay

Have power to charm my listening ear ;
Or tales of countries far away.

Or attic wit that sparkles here ?

Nor lore, nor lay, nor wit I prize ;

Nor tale, nor converse sweet, beguile
My ev'ning hours, though gazing eyes

Admire my graceful form the while.

'Tis cordial kindness, fond and true,

Still makes my life one summer day,
And brightens ev'ry joy for you,

That glows in friendship's genial ray.

Oh ! take your lyre, and while my song

In dulcet notes is warbled low,
Your strains of gratitude prolong

For blessings I can never know.

Free as the birds that float in air,
Your course no narrow precincts bounds ;

Go, soften woe and lighten care,
And spread the balm of kindness round.

122 THE GOLDFINCH.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Goldfinch.
,# Fringilla carduelis.

THIS is one of the most elegant of our English
birds; graceful in form, and arrayed in much
more brilliant colours than the birds of this cli-
mate usually exhibit. It has also a sweet and
cheerful song, which is heard from the earliest
days of spring; but it is in the month of May that
it gives us its sweetest and fullest strains : perched
on a tree it will pour forth its notes from early
morning till set of sun, and make the orchard re-
sound with its music. It continues to sing till
the month of August, except during the period
at which it is rearing its young; then all its
time and attention are devoted to parental duties.
The male bird, though very attentive to his pretty
mate, does not assist her in building the nest;
but he is constantly watching over her, either
close by her side, or perched on the nearest tree ;
and this he does, both when she is seeking her
food, and while engaged in preparing the abode

THE GOLDFINCH. 123

for her future progeny. The nest is composed
of roots, fine moss, the down of plants, and
lichens, and it is lined with horse-hair, wool,
and downy feathers. Here the hen bird deposits
five or six white eggs, spotted with brown to-
wards the thick end. While she is hatching, her
companion never leaves her except to procure
food; but sits on a neighbouring tree and cheers
her with his song. If disturbed, he flies away ;
but it is only as a feint to prevent the nest from
being discovered, and he soon returns. On her
part, she devotes herself with the utmost pa-
tience and constancy to her maternal cares. As
the time approaches when the young ones will
make their appearance, she is evidently increas-
ingly interested in their preservation, and will
brave every thing to defend them from injury :
the stormiest gales of wind, the drenching rain,
or the pelting hail-storm, do not drive her from
her nest; there she remains, and her faithful
mate continues in attendance on her. At last,
the little birds pierce the shell, and faint cries
proclaim their wants to their parents; then
there is full employment to procure food suffi-
cient to supply five or six craving little creatures.
The tender seeds of groundsel, lettuce, and
other plants, are its favourite food ; but especially

G 2

THE GOLDFINCH.

the thistle-seed ; from its fondness for this plant
it is sometimes called thistle-finch in England,
and chardonneret in France.

The young goldfinches cannot provide their
own food wholly, even when they have quitted
the nest : it is therefore long before they cease
to require the attendance of the parent birds,
and yet they contrive to raise three broods in a
year. The goldfinch is easily reconciled to loss
of freedom, and may be taught a variety of tricks,
and rendered very familiar with its attendant.
It is said to be so fond of the society of its own
species, that even the resemblance of another
goldfinch is sufficient to console it in captivity.
If a glass is placed near the cage, it is evidently
pleased to look at its own image reflected in it,
and is often seen to take its hemp-seed, grain by
grain, and go and eat before the mirror, thinking,
no doubt, that it is feeding in company. Poor
little bird ! how much more delightful to see it
flying gaily among its feathered mates of the
field and the orchard, than thus cheated with
the semblance of society. Among the black-
caps the male, as we have noticed, selects the
spot for the summer residence ; with the gold-
finches, on the contrary, it should appear that
this is the business of the lady, though the gen-
tleman decides the point at last by his casting

THE GOLDFINCH. 125

vote, which, it must be admitted, is perfectly
proper and correct.

Early in the spring of 1827, it happened that a
bird had been lost from a cage, at the residence
of a gentleman in Exmouth. The cage was
still left hanging up, with its door open, in the
passage entrance to a back court, and the seed
left by the late inhabitant still remained in the
trough. One morning, it seems that a female
goldfinch, looking out for a nestling place, saw
and admired the little wire-bound mansion hang-
ing between earth and sky : she entered it and
fed freely on the seeds: the door was closed on
her ; but as it was perceived she was a hen bird,
she was afterwards liberated. She then flew away,
and the owner of the cage had no idea of ever
seeing her again: in about two hours, however,
she returned, again entered the cage, and fed
as freely as before, was again shut in, and again
liberated. These visits she repeated daily for a
considerable time ; she was then missing for se-
veral days, and her entertainers began to think
she had taken her final leave of the cage. At
length she once more made her appearance, ac-
companied by a male bird ; she entered as usual,
fed on the seeds, and seemed to invite her com-
panion to enter also ; but he was of a less con-
fiding nature, and warily declined the invitation.

126 THE GOLDFINCH.

Perched on the outside of the cage, he inspected
it through the grating, and the examination
evidently confirmed him in his suspicions, as he
finally flew off to a neighbouring tree, and waited
there till his lady companion chose to rejoin him ;
they then disappeared together, and were thought
of no more. Nearly two months had passed away
when the hen goldfinch again made her appear-
ance. During that lapse of time she had been
busily employed, had built her nest, laid her
eggs, and hatched and reared her young. These
particulars of her history were fairly surmised
from the prese^ state of her affairs : now she
came, not attended by a male bird, but by four
young birds, evidently her own brood. She
entered the cage as before, and fed on the seeds,
inviting her companions, by her example, to do
the same ; but they had inherited the wary temper
of their sire, and prudently kept on the safe side
of the airy pavilion. The mother bird continued
to feed awhile on the seeds ; but finding she
could not induce her young ones to share her
chosen mansion with her, she eventually aban-
doned it, and took her flight to return no more :
doubtless she cast

" Many a longing, lingering look behind."
Whether so blithe a creature could breathe a
sigh of regret as she relinquished her fondly-

THE GOLDFINCH. 127

cherished wish, we do not undertake to deter-
mine.

The song of the goldfinch has been fancifully
supposed to resemble the words, " Take me
with you if you please," chaunted in recitative,
with a strong emphasis on the first and fifth
words in the sentence.

THE SONG OF THE GOLDFINCH.

Take me with you if you please,

I'm a merry little bird ;
I love the* orchard's sheltering trees,

And there my cheerful note is heard.

. Softly blows the summer breeze ;
Take me with you if you please.

I love the woods and meadows too,

Where other small birds gaily sing ;
I sip with them the morning dew,
And with them prune my glossy wing.
Softly blows the summer breeze;
Take me with you if you please.

128 THE BULLFINCH.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Bullfinch.
Loxia pyrrhula. — LINN.

THIS little bird, whose figure and colouring is too
well known to require description, is one of the
brightest plumaged natives of our woods. A
fine bullfinch, in full feather, is really a very
handsome little creature ; and in addition to his
attractive appearance, he has a teachable nature,
which makes him but too desirable a prize for
the bird-catcher. His native note is very sim-
ple; but he may be taught to whistle a variety
of tunes. Bewick says, that these birds are fre-
quently imported into this country from Ger-
many, where they are taught to articulate several
words with great distinctness.

The bullfinch, like the robin, only migrates
in winter from his summer haunts in wood and
thicket, to approach nearer to the habitations of
man, and feed on the seeds and berries he finds
on cultivated ground. In the spring he may be
seen busily pecking at the buds of our fruit-trees ;
and multitudes are destroyed by the gardener.

THE BULLFINCH. 129

who deems them his inveterate enemies. On the
other hand, naturalists assert that they assail no
buds, save those in which the destructive worm
is embedded ; and that far from destroying the
embryo plum or cherry, they protect our gar-
dens and orchards from much more destructive
enemies of the insect race.

This bird sometimes changes its plumage, and
becomes wholly black when in confinement. This
has been observed to be especially the case when
it is fed with hempseed. We well recollect an
instance in which such a change occurred, appa-
rently from another cause. A pair of bullfinches
had long lived together in captivity, and ap-
peared to have become quite reconciled to their
loss of freedom, and to sojourn happily in their
little wire-bound dwelling. At length the female
bullfinch sickened and died. Her mate seemed
to feel her loss deeply. From that time his
plumage lost its brightness, and he was soon
most appropriately clothed in a mourning suit,
which he retained till his death, about two years
after. Perhaps the unhappiness occasioned by
the death of his companion affected his health,
and by this means the change of colour was pro-
duced.

We have yet another bullfinch to introduce
to your notice, who exhibited a degree of intelli-

G 5

130 THE BULLFINCH.

gence so extraordinary as, at times, almost to
appear the result of reason, rather than of in-
stinct. A few years since, we were accustomed
to see the cage of a tame bullfinch hanging in
the midst of wreathing clematis and roses, which
clustered over the windows of an elegant cottage-
ornee in the west of England. It was a pleasant
home ; and could the bird have enjoyed, as we
did, the verdant lawn, the thick shrubbery, and
the pretty root-house, with its stained window,
looking out on the beautiful ravine, rich in rock
and wood, it would have been a paradise to him.
He was one of the many pets of the gay young
creatures who dwelt beneath the roof of that
tasteful residence, and probably was happy as a
captive bird could be. His history was this :
" Caught and caged," we know not when nor
where, about ten years ago he came accidentally
into the possession of an elderly lady in Lanca-
shire. He did not, at that time, appear to be a
young bird : he was very tame, and had been
taught to pipe a tune. Age and infirmity for-
bade his venerable mistress to wander abroad in
fields and woods. Perhaps her ear had grown
dull to the voice of singing men and singing wo-
men; but the song of the bird was pleasant mu-
sic, and recalled the calm and simple pleasures
which, in earlier years, had been her portion

THE BULLFINCH. 131

amid the scenes of nature. Perhaps, too, the
gentle trilling of her little captive, pouring out
his songs of praise to his mistress, fell on her
heart as in sweet accordance with her own aspi-
rations of grateful thanksgiving for all the mercies
of her lengthened way. With this lady he lived
four peaceful years. The period passed under her
roof was chiefly characterised by that quietude
and tranquil repose which is so well suited to de-
clining years, and exhibited little variety from
day to day. His aged mistress and himself
passed hours in each other's society, and their
mutual fondness was displayed in various ways.
She reserved for her little favourite all the apple-
pips and crumbs of cake, which were considered
by him as the greatest dainties ; and he appeared
to do every thing in his power to cheer her soli-
tude, by piping the notes of his pretty song,
which was a very plaintive air ; and by all those
little endearments by which he so well knew how
to express his regard. The door of his cage was
usually left open ; and he would fly out, perch
on the arm of his mistress's chair, and take food
from her mouth. To some of her visitors he
showed a decided preference, which he testified
by sitting on the shoulder or head of the chosen
friend, and singing the few notes he remembered
of his little song. To others who approached

132 THE BULLFINCH.

his cage, his open beak and threatening attitude
plainly proved that he considered them unwel-
come intruders.

When his kind mistress died, he was taken
by her daughter, Mrs. F. to her distant resi-
dence in the west of England, to which we have
before alluded. He soon selected Mrs. F. and
her youngest daughter Mary for his peculiar fa-
vourites : to the other members of the family
he seemed, for some time, perfectly indiiferent.
Mary scarcely knew, at first, how to manage with
all her pets. Her little dog, and her demure tor-
toiseshell cat, (a most accomplished bird-catcher,)
had long been established as inmates of the par-
lour, and would not patiently brook the indignity
of being discarded for a new friend. But how
could the feathered favourite be permitted to
have the free range of the apartment, while his
natural enemies were in the room ? This dif-
ficulty, however, was soon overcome ; for it was
not long before they became so well acquainted,
as to take little notice of each other ; and the cat
and bird have been accidentally left together,
without any disastrous consequences.

It is impossible for those who never saw this
interesting bird, to imagine the discriminating
fondness he displayed for those who were the
objects of his affection. The reasons which

THE BULLFINCH. 133

guided his choice were not always apparent ; and
his dislike, which in some instances was as strik-
ing as his partiality in others, seemed to have no
better foundation than his own wayward fancy.
Still his prepossessions were generally constant,
and did not, at any rate, seem to be the mere
caprice of the moment. His fondness for Mrs.
F. was uniform, until about a year after he came
into her possession, when he became very ill,
during the moulting season. After that time he
did not discover any particular fondness for her,
though no cause of offence could be remembered.
The person on whom he fixed as the object of
his most active hostility, was Mrs. F.'s eldest
daughter. Though she was not so fond of
animals as her younger sister, and had never
taken so much notice of him, still she frequently
offered him his favourite apple-pips, and had
never, in any way that she knew of, either vexed
or hurt him. He at length wrought up his little
spirit to such animosity against her, that when
he was hopping about the table after dinner,
partaking of the fruit, he would occasionally fly
at Anne's face, and try to peck her ; and once
he actually suspended himself by his beak fast-
ened to her lip. After having exhausted him-
self by these assaults, he would fly across the
table to Mary, and in a moment assume a dif-

134 THE BULLFINCH.

ferent character. He would begin his little song,
his head and tail keeping a sidelong motion to
the tune : he would sit on her shoulder, and rub
himself against her neck or face, as if he scarce-
ly knew how to show all the fondness he felt for
her. Sometimes the mere sound of Anne's voice
would impel him to renew his hostile attacks on
her; and leaving Mary, he would fly again to
Anne, and bite her like a little fury.

Many attempts were made to deceive him by
the sisters changing seats, but he quickly disco-
vered the imposition. The only thing which
ever deceived him, was when Mary threw a hand-
kerchief over her head : he then, for a moment,
mistook her for a stranger.

From some cause, perhaps from his leading a
life unsuited to his nature, his claws were very
much diseased. They became more so at every
moulting season ; so that at last all the claws on
one leg were entirely gone, and those on the
other so much mutilated that he could no longer
grasp his perch. He was therefore obliged to
remain on the floor of his cage, a situation which
could not fail to be uncomfortable to him. Still,
in other respects, he appeared to be in perfect
health ; and the beautiful state of his plumage,
always bright and smooth, not a single feather
ruffled, was a proof of this. In all probability

THE BULLFINCH. 135

he would have lived much longer, had it not
been for the inconsiderate deed of some little
boys, who were visiting Mrs. F. in the summer
of 1829. They had often been warned not to
touch or frighten the bullfinch. One day, when
he had quitted his cage, and was enjoying the
free range of the sitting-room, these little boys,
seized by one of those sudden impulses which
often hurry lively children into thoughtless acts
of disobedience, sprung from their seats, and
before any one could stop them, chased the poor
bird violently round the room, till he dropped
down quite exhausted. He was immediately
taken up, and his feet put into warm water, in
the hope of restoring him — but in vain. His
delicate frame could not sustain so rude a shock,
and the pet bullfinch was no more. Every one
lamented that his last moments should have been
rendered so unhappy. It will readily be be-
lieved Jthat the death of so interesting a bird was
sincerely regretted. Tears were shed for his
loss, and an honourable place of sepulchre ap-
pointed for him, at the foot of a cedar on the
lawn.

136 THE BULLFINCH.

THE SONG OF THE CAPTIVE BULLFINCH.

I dwelt with one whose soul was love,

Patient and gentle as the dove ;

And now that she hath passed away,

And hears no 'more my grateful lay,

Oh ! do not think I mourn her not,

Who sweetly soothed my lonely lot.

Did she not feed and cherish me,

And make me blest as bird could be,

Until my captive state seemed sweet,

My prison-home a loved retreat ?

When summer skies were clear and bright,

She hailed my strains with fond delight ;

And when I sung in wintry days,

She gave my music double praise ;

And while my plaintive notes she heard,

She call'd herself a captive bird,

And said that age, with heavy hand,

Had bound her with his iron band,

A nd bade her feet no longer roam

Beyond her calm sequester'd home,

And hung before her eyes a veil,

And bade her flagging spirits fail.

And then I heard her lips declare

There was a land of purer air —

A land unswept by stormy gale,

Unsaddened by the captive's wail.

I loved those words of gentle tone,
Though half their meaning was unknown ;
And when I heard her voice no more,
I deemed her captive state was o'er ;
And, freed from every fettering band,
She sought and found that lovely land.

THE BULLFINCH. 137

Oh ! do not think I mourn her not,
Who sweetly soothed my lonely lot.
Her sainted form no more I see :
I know not what my fate may be.
But ye who loved my mistress dear,
Will still her feathered favourite cheer,
And hang my cage in verdant bowers,
And wreathe its wires with fragrant flowers.

And thou, whose form of youthful grace
Is hovering round my resting-place,
With glossy hair, and sparkling eye,
And voice that sounds so cheerily;
For thee my plaintive song I'll sing,
Till ruffled plumes and drooping wing
Proclaim my little life is fled,
And I am number'd with the dead;
No more with softly warbled trill,
To tell thee that I love thee still.

Then, Mary, let thy bird be laid
Beneath the cedar's pleasant shade;
Nor let thy heart in after days
Lose all remembrance of my lays,
But listen to thy captive's prayer;
And when some wanderer of the air
Pours on thy ear his sweetest strain,
Think of thy feathered friend again.

138 THE RAVEN.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Raven.

Corvus corax.

" THIS bird," says Cuvier, " is the largest of
the Passerine Order found in Europe, being as
big as a cock : its plumage is entirely black, the
tail round, the back of the upper mandible
arched forward. It lives more retired than the
other species, flies well and high, scents carcases
at the distance of a league, and feeds, moreover,
on all sorts of fruit and small animals. It will
even carry off the tenants of the poultry-yard.
It builds singly on high trees and sharp rocks.
Its flight is easy and elevated. It seems to be
found in all parts of the world."

To this sketch we may add, that the ravens
are a fearless race, defending themselves suc-
cessfully from the attacks of cats and dogs, and
even rendering themselves formidable to men,
whose legs they will peck at with so much fury,
as to inflict very considerable wounds.

They are said to be greatly attached to each

THE RAVEN. 139

other, living the whole year round in pairs. It
is asserted, that the same pairs remain together
for years, and probably for the whole of their
lives. They build a very capacious nest, and
in it the female deposits, about March, five or
six pale blueish and greenish eggs, lined and
spotted with a neutral tint. In twenty days the
young ones are hatched, and are ready to fly about
May. As long as they are not fully able to pro-
cure their own food, the parent birds continue to
bring them a daily supply. Long after they are
able to fly, the nest continues to be their place of
refuge and of rest : here the whole of the dark-
plumed family assemble in the evening, and pass
the night together ; this they do till quite the
end of the summer, which has led some persons
to entertain the erroneous idea that they rear two
broods in a season.

When they are at length considered able to
provide for themselves, the old birds drive them
from the nest, to seek their fortunes elsewhere.
Unenlightened and superstitious people look on
the raven as a bird of ill omen, giving warning of
approaching evil by its sullen croak.

" The raven ominous, (as Gentiles hold,)
What time she croaketh hoarsely a la tnorte."

Its love of solitude, and the habit it has of fre-
quenting lonely, deserted ruins, has added to the

140 THE RAVEN.

gloomy character of the bird : yet there are many
interesting recollections connected with its name,
not at all of a mournful nature. The raven sent
forth by Noah is familiar to us from our child-
hood ; the first of all the voluntary prisoners in
the ark of gopher-wood, which escaped from its
temporary prison, and flew over the ruined world
with unfettered wing. Still more familiar, and
endeared to our feelings, is the touching and
beautiful story of the persecuted prophet ; hidden
from his enemies by the secret brook Cherith,
and daily fed, in time of famine, by the ravens,
who brought him bread and meat every morning
and every evening, commissioned to sustain the
man of God, by Him who heareth the young
ravens when they cry. Neither can we forget
the beautiful allusion to this bird, in the dis-
courses of our blessed Saviour, as related by St.
Luke* There is also, in the Book of Job, ano-
ther mention of the raven, which has made a
deep and lasting impression on many a youthful
heart, connected as it is with a fearful threat-
ening. That animated and delightful writer,
Dr. E. D. Clarke, gives the following striking
narrative as an instance of the literal fulfilment
of the passage to which we allude. It was in
travelling through the forests of Scandinavia,
that the circumstance fell under his notice.

THE RAVEN. 141

" Just before we reached Oljochi, an open
space in the forest, cleared for the purpose, ex-
hibited upon three wheels, the mangled carcase
of a miscreant Finn, who, in a fit of intoxication,
had cut off a woman's head with an axe. His
head was placed upon one wheel, his right hand
upon another, and his body, dressed in the habit
of his nation, upon the third, between the other
two. The punishment of criminals for capital
offences, in Sweden, requires that the right hand
be struck off before the culprit is beheaded. We
halted for a few moments, to make a sketch of
this fearful spectacle. Amidst the gloom and
solitude of the forest, where the silence was that
of death itself, it was indeed a sight that spoke
terrible things. The body of a human creature,
thus exposed to the birds of prey, by the side of a
public road, cannot fail of affecting the mind of
every passenger. The enormity of the crime
itself is almost absorbed in a feeling of pity, call-
ed forth by the exemplary nature of the punish-
ment. And this poor Finn, it is said, had a
father and a mother, ' who watched, and toiled,
and prayed' for him ; whose good counsels were
disregarded, until the awful moment arrived,
when, faithful in its threatenings, the warning
voice of Scripture was fulfilled: 'The eye that
mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his

142 THE RAVEN.

mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out,
and the young eagles shall eat it.' "

Turning aside from this appalling scene of
crime, and its punishment, we will call your at-
tention once more to the peculiar habits of the
bird, as exhibited in its determined adherence to
the spot it has chosen for its abiding place. The
naturalist of Selborne, to whose pages we al-
ways refer with pleasure, has furnished us with
a story, which exhibits this propensity in the ut-
most perfection, and on which the following little
poem is founded.

THE RAVEN TREE.

Wouldst thou the strong hold of the raven see?

Go, mark where she sits on her ancient tree ;

There long she hath dwelt, the queen of the wood,

Where the lofty oaks for ages have stood.

There hath she sat, when the summer's bright beam.

To her glossy wings gave a purple gleam ;

And there hath she dwelt, when the winter sky

Sent the blast of the tempest howling by.

'Tis her own beloved abiding place,

And a tower of strength to her infant race ;

And a living rampart girds it around,

For nature hath cast up the swelling mound:

Nor man nor beast can the barrier clear,

And she nestles there safely from year to year.

There she sits, and the raven's croak.

Is nightly heard from the lofty oak.

THE RAVEN. 143

'Tis the raven tree, and its leafy screen
Hath ever her covert and fortress been ;
But the woodman conies, and the ancient oak
Is trembling beneath his powerful stroke :
She deems it the gust of the stormy breeze,
As it bends the boughs of the forest-trees.
Again the strong column shakes to its base,
But the raven is still in her resting-place :
The tall tree trembles, and totters, and swings,
And still she is seen with her out-spread wings ;
Till with thundering crash to the ground it falls,
And scatters in ruins her castle walls :
That thundering crash was her funeral knell,
To earth, with her nest, the poor raven fell,
And never more was her solemn croak
Heard from the boughs of the lofty oak.

THE RAVEN.

" Hide thyself by the brook Cherith, which is before
Jordan, and it shall be that thou shalt drink of the brook,

and I have commanded the ravens to feed thee there."

1 KINGS, xvii. 3,4.

Dark raven, when thy note I hear,
Why should it fill my heart with fear ?
I'll look upon thy sable wing,
And think of Cherith's secret spring,
And of the prophet's wond'rous fare,
Who sought the hidden waters there.

Thy rushing wing, dark-mantled bird,

The holy seer with gladness heard,

When famine raged on ev'ry side,

And founts and flowing streams were dried $

But still, in Cherith's quiet vale,

The crystal waters did not fail.

144 THE ROOK.

From fields uncheered by rain or dew,
To Cherith's brook the ravens flew,
Morning and eve, on pinions fleet,
Hov'ring around the lone retreat ;
By secret impulse thither led,
To bring the exile daily bread.

Dark-mantled bird, I'll welcome thee,
Thou hast no omens dire for me.
Recorded on the sacred page,
That tale descends from age to age,
And still the raven's sable plumes,
As with a glorious light illumes.

I turn with fond delight to trace
The story of thy ancient race,
And think, how in their hour of need,
God can his faithful children feed.
There may be want, there may be woe,
But still the hidden stream will flow.
There may be deep, heart-withering care,
But Cherith's brook forbids despair.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Rook.
Corvus frugilegus. — LINN.

OUR readers will not require from us any very
elaborate description of this well-known bird ; he
is, in truth, an every-day acquaintance, crossing

THE ROOK.

our path, flying over our heads, feeding in our
fields, and cawing round our dwellings. Who
is there who is not familiar with the stately
avenue, the tall group of trees, or the sheltered
grove where these amusing birds take up their
abode ? Who has not watched them clamouring
and quarrelling over every stick and straw in
their nests, as if it were a gem of value, a dia-
mond of the first water?

" Rooks," says Bewick, " are often accused
of feeding on the corn just after it has been sown;
but, in our estimation, the advantages derived
from the destruction which they make among
grubs, larvae, worms, and noxious insects,
greatly overpay the injury done, by the small
quantity of corn they may destroy in searching
after their favourite food. They live together in
large societies, and build close to each other in
trees, frequently in the midst of large and popu-
lous towns. These rookeries are often the scenes
of bitter contests ; the new comers are frequently
driven away by the old inhabitants, their nests
torn in pieces, and the unfortunate couple forced
to begin their work anew in some more undis-
turbed situation."

It is singular, that birds living in such large
communities, should be so quarrelsome; it seems
as if such a propensity would peculiarly disqua-

H

146 THE ROOK.

lify them for social life, and make it more de-
sirable that each pair should retire into solitude,
and lead the same recluse life as the raven. But
this is not their choice ; they will dwell in the
midst of their brethren if possible, though they
are sure to be in a continual state of warfare
during the building time, robbing and pulling to
pieces each other's nests whenever an opportunity
offers. Some unfortunate pairs are not permit-
ted to finish a nest till the rest have all com-
pleted theirs. No sooner have they collected a
few sticks, and laid the foundation, than in rush
the marauders, tear the unfinished dwelling to
pieces, and seize on the materials for their own
use. When the nests are once fairly completed,
a more peaceful state of affairs ensues ; but noisy
and clamorous they still remain. Perhaps it is
then rather

" The clash of argument and jar of words,"

since the great source of contest, the materials
for building, no longer excite their cabals. One
thing is certain — were they less clamorous they
would be less amusing.

Common as these birds are, and freely as they
colonize in some places, they are, nevertheless,
a very independent race, and will come at no
man's bidding. We might sometimes fancy they

THE ROOK. 147

have a perverse pleasure in absenting themselves
from the spots where their presence would be
the most welcome. There is a delightful country
residence, which we were accustomed to frequent
some years since : it abounded in rural sights
and sounds, and seemed to us to possess almost
all the pleasant appendages of a country abode,
except a rookery. The owner of the mansion,
in common with every true lover of nature, co-
veted the society of the cawing race ; but never
could these wayward birds be lured into the
neighbourhood, till a large dairy was established
on the outskirts of the estate, on the borders of
a fine range of pasture-ground. The dairy, and
its picturesque accompaniments, attracted many
visitors, and among others the rooks ; a colony
of these amusing birds soon established them-
selves on the loftiest trees in the adjoining cop-
pice. There they have dwelt ever since, cawing
and croaking; quarrelling and nest building;
rearing their young ; destroying the grubs in
winter and spring, and devouring the corn in
harvest, with all the characteristic energy of the
tribe.

We cannot persuade ourselves to finish this
chapter on rooks, without quoting from our fa-
vourite White, his animated sketch of their even-
ing manoeuvres, as he was wont to observe them

H2

148 THE BOOK.

in his beloved village home. " The evening
proceedings of the rooks are curious and amusing
in the autumn. Just before dusk they return in
a long string, from the foraging of the day, and
rendezvous, by thousands, over Selborne Down,
where they wheel round in the air, and sport and
dive in a playful manner, all the while exerting
their voices, and making a loud cawing, which
being blended and softened by the distance that
we at the village are below them, becomes a
confused noise, or chiding ; or, rather, a pleasing
murmur, very engaging to the imagination, and
not unlike the cry of a pack of hounds in hollow,
echoing woods, or the rushing of the wind in tall
trees, or the tumbling of the tide upon a pebbly
shore. When this ceremony is over, with the
last gloom of day, they retire for the night to
the deep beechen woods of Tisted and Ropley.
We remember a little girl, who, as she was going
to bed, used to remark on such an occurrence,
in the true spirit of physico-theology, that the
rooks were saying their prayers ; and yet this
child was much too young to be aware that the
Scriptures have said of the Deity, that f He
feedeth the ravens who call upon him.1 "*

* White's Natural History of Selborne.

THE ROOK. 149

THE ROOK.

Social bird, thy harsh notes I love :
In the cheerful spring they tell

Of farm, and field, and grove,
And tall trees o'er the shelter'd dell.

Abroad in the dawning light,

Thou art soaring o'er hill and vale,

Till they fade in the shadows of night,
Then homeward thy dark wings sail.

There's a charm in those ceaseless caws

That mark thy active way;
There is scarcely an idle pause

In thy busy and useful day.

Let us learn, as we listen to thee,
And gaze on thy rapid flight,

What the Christian's life should be,
As he labours in gladness and light.

ORDER PASSERES.

The Common Nuthatch. Nut-jobber. Wood-cracker.
Sitta Europoea.

THE nuthatch is an inhabitant of the woods of
this country, particularly of the southern parts.

150 THE COMMON NUTHATCH.

It resembles the woodpecker in some of its habits,
and indeed it is, by some, called the blue wood-
pecker, though incorrectly. It feeds on nuts,
seeds, and various kinds of insects : it is in pur-
suit of this part of its food, that it climbs the
stems of trees, and taps them with its bill like
the woodpecker. In the winter it is sometimes
seen in orchards and gardens ; but its habitual
dwelling is in the woods : here it makes its nest
in the hollow of a tree. The hen bird is said
never to quit the eggs, and will allow herself to
be taken rather than abandon them. During
the time she is sitting, she is said to be wholly
dependent on the male bird for her food ; and he,
on his part, is singularly attentive to his little
companion. As soon as the young ones can do
without the assistance of a parent, they all sepa-
rate, and each bird lives a hermit life the rest of
the year. The hollow trees which furnish these
birds with sheltered places for rearing their young,
serve also for their nightly resting-places at other
seasons : here, too, they store up their hoards of
provision for winter food.

The nuthatch, remaining with us all the year,
prudently prepares for the approach of a season
when the fruits of the earth will be gathered in,
and the insect tribes safely secured in their win-
ter hiding-places. , In the autumn this thrifty

THE COMMON NUTHATCH. 151

little bird is seen collecting its stores of nuts and
grains, such as hemp-seed, &c. and secreting them
in the garners nature has provided for them in
the midst of the woods. Nothing is more re-
markable in the habits of this clever and active
little creature, than the manner in which it gets
at the kernel of the nut. Having placed a nut
firmly in the crack of a tree, he takes his station
a little above it, and striking it with all his force,
pierces the shell and takes out the kernel. If
he happens to be disturbed at his work, he re-
moves the nut instantly, and flies away with it.

A touching anecdote of this bird is related by
a writer in the Magazine of Natural History.
Having slightly wounded a nuthatch, he suc-
ceeded in capturing it, and carried it home, with
the hope of watching its habits more closely.
The poor bird, however, could ill brook his cap-
tivity, and at the end of two days died ; having
kept up, during that time, an almost incessant
and laborious tapping at the wood-work of his
cage, which bears lasting marks of the energy
with which he toiled to force his way to freedom.
Some of those who watched the untiring efforts
of the little prisoner, observed that he was nail-
ing his own coffin, and so it seemed : his labours
ceased but with his life. For the details of the
anecdote, we refer our readers to the Magazine

152 THE COMMON NUTHATCH.

of Natural History, Nov. 1828. The following
lament is founded on this circumstance.

THE LAMENT OF THE CAPTIVE NUTHATCH.

From my native haunts in the forest glade,
From my pleasant home in its waving shade,
They've borne me away to the captive's cell,
And they thought I might there in comfort dwell ;
And the spoiler stands by my prison grate,
And with wonder looks on my restless state.

" Rest, rest," cries the spoiler, " O rest thee now,
Thou art safe as beneath the forest bough ;
Oh ! rest, little captive, I pray thee, rest,
Though far, far away from thy woodland nest:"
But vainly the voice of the spoiler is heard,
Inviting to slumber, his captive bird.

" Rest, rest thee," he cries ; but I cannot rest,
So far, far away from my woodland nest —
From the loved ones I left in the forest bowers,
And the freedom and joy that once were ours.
A captive, and wounded, say, can there be,
Peace or repose in this prison for me ?

I prepare my tomb for the coming hour,

When death shall set bounds to the spoiler's power ;

If I pause for a moment, sorrow and pain

Summon me back to my labour again.

My loved ones are lost, my freedom is flown,

I have only to make my dying moan.

Unceasing the toil of that captive one,
From the dawn of day to the set of sun :
When the shadows of night around him fell,
There was silence and peace in his lonely cell ;
For the pns'ner's weary toil was o'er,
And the requiem strain was heard no more.

THE COMMON NUTHATCH. 153

Dost weep for the captive ? — weep freely then :
But knowst thou, my child, there are captive men ?
Oh ! canst thou not hear how their plaintive wail
Is borne from afar on the ocean gale ?
Weep, weep for the captive, on land and sea,
And pray for the hour when the slave shall be free.

The nuthatch is of so shy and timid a charac-
ter, that it is not very often seen. Its flight is gen-
tle, and its movements easy and graceful. While
it is climbing about the trees, it utters its cry of
ti, ti, ti, ti, ti, with great rapidity : besides this
cry, and the noise it makes in tapping the bark,
it produces a singular sound, either by putting
its bill into chinks, or rubbing it against the dry,
hollow branches — this can be heard to a consi-
derable distance. The notes of this bird cannot
be said to be in themselves harmonious, and yet
there is a charm in such sounds, heard amid the
forests, with all the delightful accompaniments of
woodland scenery, and what Evelyn terms " the
innocent felicity of gardens and groves." And
thus the simple note of the nuthatch, or the laugh
of the woodpecker, becomes as attractive to the
lover of nature, as more perfect strains of melody.
So lovely, in truth, is Nature even now, marred
as her beauty is by sin and sorrow, and so strong-
ly does she still bear the impress of her high and
holy origin, that we doubt not many of our young
readers are ready to exclaim with the poet —

H 5

154 THE COMMON NUTHATCH.

" Oh! Nature, how in every charm supreme,
Thy votaries feast in glories ever new :
Oh ! for the voice and fire of seraphim,
To sing thy glories with devotion due."

We quote from the notes of the ornithological
friend, our obligations to whom we have before
acknowledged, a few additional remarks on the
peculiarities of this bird. " The nuthatch is
quicker in its movements than the woodpecker,
and is peculiar in its descent. I have observed
that the green woodpecker mostly alights on the
lower parts of the branches of trees to ascend ;
the nuthatch more frequently on higher parts
to descend ; and this he does often perpendicu-
larly, but sometimes making evolutions. I do
not know that this coming down head foremost
is worth alluding to — but it has often amused
me. The eggs. Sec. of this bird are well de-
scribed by Bewick. You will also see in his
work, p. 114, the character Buffon gives of the
climbing birds, an erroneous one, I think.

" Wilson, in his American Ornithology, gives a
very different account: he compares them to in-
dustrious workmen, and considers them very
happy. I am of his opinion — I can fancy them
the happiest of mechanics. Wilson adds, that
these birds, the whole woodpecker race, are most
useful in pointing out the trees which are begin-
ning to decay ; it is only such they assail, for

THE COMMON NUTHATCH. 155

they do not attack sound trees, because insects do
not abound in them as they do in the trunks and
limbs of those less vigorous and healthy. — W. K."

SONG OF THE NUTHATCH.

Lone forest-bird, in thee I find,
Meet emblem of the cultured mind,
That passes on from day to day,
Still gath'ring treasures on its way,
And heaping up a precious store
From nature's gifts, and bookmen's lore ;
Sweet flowers that do not fade with time,
And fruits that still retain their prime
Through all the wint'ry hours of age,
As in our earlier pilgrimage.

Lone bird, who lov'st the forest shrine,
Creatures more blest than thee and thine,
With gladness hail the welcome hours,
That lead them to the forest bowers ;
And there are minds of loftier tone,
Souls that a purer influence own,
Who seek and find, while yet on earth,
Pleasures that claim celestial birth,
And in some calm retirement love
To plume their wings and soar above.

Oh ! worldly spirits cannot tell
How sweet it is with these to dwell ;
All their supplies unfailing are,
Their table spread with angels' fare ;
On food the world knows not they feed,
Still richest in their hour of need.
Gifts from the promised land are theirs,
Fruits that the vine of Eschol bears,
And heaven's own dews descending bless,
Their sojourn in the wilderness.

156 HUMMING-BIRDS.

ORDER PASSERES.

Humming-Bird.
Trochilus.

THESE beautiful little creatures are the most di-
minutive of all the feathered race. They are
found only in America, and most abundantly in
the hottest parts of South America, between
the tropics. There are birds which very much
resemble them, found both in Asia and Africa ;
but they differ in some respects, and naturalists
now call them by other names, and confine that
of humming-bird to these little gems of the Ame-
rican forest. The brightness of their colours, and
the elegance of their forms, can only be imagined
by those who have seen them. When flying in
the sun, they look as if they were covered with
gems and gold. The native American Indians,
struck with the splendour of their hues, have
called them "the hairs of the sun." The smallest
humming-bird is of a grey violet colour, and the
size of a bee. There are others, three or four
inches long ; and one, called the giant hum-

HUMMING-BIRDS. 157

ming-bird, is about the size of the common martin.
Little idea of the brilliancy of their colouring can
be conveyed by description, as we have before
observed ; and yet the very reading of such ex-
quisite hues excites the imagination, and makes
a bright vision of these gleaming creatures float
before our eyes. Here is one, the amethyst
humming-bird: " throat and part of the neck
brilliant amethyst, changing into purple brown."
Here is the Surinam humming-bird : " green
gold above, beneath greyish white ; crescent of
red on the breast." Here is another from Nootka
Sound : " head rich variable green and gold,
ruby-coloured ruff round the neck." Now look
at the superb humming-bird : " crown of head
sky-blue ; throat brilliant scarlet ; back, wings,
and tail, gold green ; pale beneath." Some of
these beautiful creatures have splendid tufts on
their heads. One has a crest of emerald green :
another, of the brightest glossy blue : another, a
large cluster of violet plumes : another has a
gold tuft over each eye. Are not your eyes
dazzled by these brilliant colours ? Truly we
could fancy ours are while we write of them.

The flight of these little birds is so rapid, that
the motion of the wings cannot be perceived ;
and when the bird is hovering in the air, it ap-
pears to be quite immoveable. The quick motion

158 HUMMING-BIRDS.

of the wings produces the humming sound from
which the bird derives its name.

This little creature has a very long tongue,
curiously formed, so as to enable it to suck up
the nectar from the bells of flowers. This nectar
is its chief, if not its only food. It is seen to
pause for a few instants before a flower, with its
long tongue inserted into it. Then it darts like an
arrow to another, plunging its tongue into the bo-
som of every flower it visits, in search of its sweet
food. These birds are never seen on the ground :
they pass the night and the heat of the day
among the branches of the trees. They are not
birds of song : were they, it must be the music
of fairy-land. But though they cannot be said
to sing, they utter a short cry, as they fly from
one flowering plant to another : this cry is de-
scribed as resembling the syllables te-re, more or
less sharp and strong.

It was long supposed impossible to bring the
humming-bird alive to this country ; but one in-
stance has occurred, as the following well-authen-
ticated anecdote, related by Dr. Latham, will
show.

" A young man, a few days before he departed
from Jamaica, surprised a female humming-bird
while she was hatching. Having caught it, and
desiring to procure the nest without injuring it,

HUMMING-BIRDS. 159

he cut the branch on which it was, and carried
the whole on ship-board. The bird became suf-
ficiently tame to suffer herself to be fed with
honey and water during the passage ; and hatch-
ed two young ones. The mother, however, did
not long survive ; but the young ones were
brought to England, and continued some time
in the possession of Lady Hammond. These
little creatures readily took honey from the lips
of her ladyship with their bills. One of them
did not live long, but the other survived at least
two months after their arrival."

It is difficult to keep these lovely and delicate
creatures alive in a state of captivity, even in a
climate much more favourable to their preserva-
tion than ours. Dr. Latham mentions, as a rare
occurrence, the success of general Davis, who
kept several ruby humming-birds alive for some
months. He fed them with honey and syrup,
which he dropped into the tubes of artificial
flowers ; so that the little creatures might suck it
out with their long tongues, as they did from the
natural flowers in a state of freedom. In the
centre of each of these artificial flowers, a tube,
formed of a piece of tobacco-pipe, was fixed ; and
this became the receptacle of the honey. It was
a very elegant device, to make the drinking ves-
sels of the little captives resemble those natural

160 HUMMING-BIRDS.

vases, out of which they were wont to sip their
daily portion in the flowery fields where they
first fluttered their brilliant wings, with other gay
creatures of their kind. But, happily, even with
the most ingenious contrivances, they cannot
long be kept alive when deprived of freedom ;
and therefore few are caught for that purpose.

THE HUMMING-BIRDS.

Bright birds of the sun, how has every hue
Of the sky and the rainbow been lavished on you !
What are the robes that a monarch enfold,
Compared with your feathers of silver and gold ?
Ye are richly arrayed, without toil and care,
And the flower-bells furnish your daily fare :
A feast every morning before you is spread ;
Ye are gloriously clothed, and luxuriously fed.
And ye drink the pure nectar, and cry tc-re,
As ye fly from the flower to the blossoming tree.

Swift as an arrow ye hasten along :
Now ye are gleaming the lilies among;
Now through the gardens of roses you speed ;
Now on the lofty magnolias you feed.
Gay birds of the sun ! your plumes are as bright,
As if you had bathed in his fountain of light.
It is lovely indeed your wings to behold,
All gleaming and glistening with azure and gold,
While ye drink the pure nectar, and cry te-re,
As ye fly from the flower to the blossoming tree.

THE KINGFISHER. 161

ORDER PASSERES.

The Kingfisher. Halcyon.
Alcedo Ispida.

THE ancients had many superstitions connected
with these birds ; and to the present day they
are held in great veneration in some parts of the
world. The Greeks called the common species
Alcyon, from Alcyone, the wife of Ceyx. Ceyx
being accidentally drowned, Alcyone, as " the
fabling poets fein," threw herself into the sea,
and they were both transformed into kingfishers.
One strange legend universally credited was,
that these birds hatched their eggs on the waves ;
and that, on certain days in the year, they might
be seen floating tranquilly over the waters, thus
occupied. During this season, it was believed
that the tempests were charmed to rest, and no
chilling breeze had permission to ruffle the azure
wing of the halcyon, as she glided peacefully
along ; until, having hatched her young, she
quitted the waters, and left the imprisoned winds
at liberty to lift up their stormy voices again, and

162

THE KINGFISHER.

renew their eternal warfare with the billows. It
is to this Milton alludes in the following quaint
but beautiful lines, from his unrivalled Ode on
the Nativity.

" The winds witK wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kist,

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While birds of calm sit brooding o'er the charmed wave."

The flight of the kingfisher is extremely rapid.
Destined to live by destroying other creatures,
its leading characteristics are patience, persever-
ance, and courage. Perched on a slight branch
overhanging a stream, it will remain a great
length of time waiting the passage of its prey
beneath. Sometimes moving rapidly along the
banks, it detects the fish with its keen glance,
and seizes them with the utmost dexterity. The
eagerness with which it darts into the water after
its prey, is quite extraordinary. At other times
it will skim swiftly over the surface of the water,
uttering a sharp cry, and seizing such fish as
may come within its reach.

Cuvier thus describes the bird : " The Eu-
ropean kingfisher is as large as a sparrow : green-
ish above, waved with black : a broad band of the
finest aqua-marine blue prevails along the back.

THE KINGFISHER.

163

The under part, and a band on each side the
neck are reddish.11

This, however, is not an accurate description
of the kingfisher which frequents our streams,
and which has no black on any part of its
plumage.

THE KINGFISHER.

Did you never the royal kingfisher see,
Resting himself on the willow tree ?
Lightly he sits on the bending spray,
And watches the course of his finny prey ;
Then swiftly he skims o'er the crystal stream.
And his wings with azure and emerald gleam.

The king of the fishing tribe is he,

And he is clad right royally.

The emerald shines on his kingly head,
And his corset is of ruby red :
An emerald mantle is on his back,
Varied with waves of ebon black ;
And a lovely band of the brightest blue,
Gives to the whole a glorious hue.

The king of the fishing tribe is he,

And he is clad right royally.

Perhaps you love, with your rod in hand,
By the flowing stream to take your stand ;
Perhaps you have long an angler been,
As well as the bird in azure and green :
But whether your craft be old or new,
He will have better sport than you.

The king of the fishing tribe is he,

And he can fish right royally.

164

n.

THE THIRD ORDER.

SCANSORES OB CLIMBERS.

This order is composed of birds whose external toe is di-
rected backwards, like the thumb, whereby they have a
more solid support, of which some of the genera avail
themselves, by hanging and climbing on the trunks of
trees. Hence they have been named, in common,
climbers, (scansores ;) although, strictly speaking, the
term does not apply to them all ; and many birds climb
without belonging to this order, by the arrangement of
the toes, as the creepers and nuthatches.

The birds proper to this order build, in general, in holes
of old trees. Their flight is middling. Their food, like
that of the Passeres, consists of insects and fruits, accord-
ing as their bill is more or less strong. Some, as the
woodpeckers, have peculiar means of obtaining their
food.— Cuvier.

ORDER SCANSORES.

The Green Woodpecker.
Picus Viridis.

THIS is one of those shy birds which is not very
often seen, except by those whose business or

THE GREEN WOODPECKER. 165

pleasure leads them into the depths of the woods
and forests, where it delights to dwell. It feeds
on insects and larva ; and its hard tongue is ter-
minated by a horny point, which particularly fits
it for seizing its prey. There is also a very sin-
gular mechanism connected with the tongue of
this bird, which enables it to shoot it out to an
astonishing length, in seizing the insects on which
it feeds. It climbs trees generally in a spiral di-
rection, and has the power of running along the
branches with its head downwards, like a fly on
the ceiling.

The green woodpecker is the most common of
the European species. It utters a piercing cry,
resembling the words tiacacan, tiacacan ; with
which it makes the woods resound. It has also
another cry, occasionally heard, which is like a
noisy burst of laughter, repeated thirty or forty
times in succession. It has likewise a plaintive
note, which it uses on the approach of rain ;
whence it is sometimes called the rain-fowl. But
the sounds for which the woodpeckers are gene-
rally the most remarked, is their loud tapping
on the barks of trees, which they strike with
their strong bills, in order to rouse the insects,
and drive them from their retreats. In spring
and summer, the green woodpecker is sometimes
found on the ground, in search of ants, which he

166

THE GREEN WOODPECKER.

esteems a great delicacy. He will watch for
them in the neighbourhood of an ant-hill, resting
his long tongue on the ground, to receive them
in their passage to and from the nest ; and when
his tongue is covered, he retires to eat them.
Sometimes he makes a violent attack on the ant-
hill itself, and makes the little creatures and
their eggs alike his prey. At other times he is
continually climbing trees, and striking them in
the manner before described, with his bill. The
noise may be heard to a considerable distance,
and the strokes counted.

The woodpecker's nest is made in the hollow of
a decayed tree. Tapping with his bill, he easily
discovers the part where the trunk is hollow
within ; and he and his mate work alternately to
open a way to the centre, by piercing the sound
part of the wood with their bills. In doing this,
they carefully throw out the chips. They often
make a hole so deep in the tree, and penetrate by
such a sloping passage, that the light of day can
scarcely enter. Here they make a nest of moss
and wood. The eggs are from four to six in
number : they are quite white. During the time
of hatching, the male and female rarely quit each
other. They retire early in the evening to their
hole, where they remain till daylight.

THE GREEN WOODPECKER. 167

THE WOODPECKER.

Hail to thee, woodpecker, clothed in green !
How thy verdant mantle concealeth thee ;
'Mid the waving foliage scarcely seen,
As thou climbest the boughs of the forest-tree.
The theme of the villager's song art thou,
The woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-bough.

Throughout all the land that song has been heard*

Yet thousands there are, who but for the song
Would never have known the name of the bird,
Or thought of its habits the woods among.
The theme of the villager's song is he,
The woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree.

The shepherd that rests in the beechen shade,
While his flocks in the level pastures graze :
The woodman at work in the forest-glade,

Or the sportsman threading the woody maze :
All these the green bird of the ballad may see,
The woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree.

Though I've marked the note of many a bird,
Wandering alone in the field or the wood,
The woodpecker's tapping but once have I heard,
As under the green boughs I silently stood ;
For a shy and a timid bird is he,
The woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree.

168 THE CUCKOO.

ORDER SCANSORES.

The Cuckoo.

Cuculus Canorus.

THE cuckoo is supposed to pass the winter in
Africa, and usually comes to us in the month of
April, when we hear its monotonous but pleasant
cry of cuckoo, which seems to proclaim to us that
winter is gone, and the time of flowers is coming.
Arrived in England, it generally betakes itself to
the woods, and appears especially to delight in
those which are situated on hills and mountains ;
from whence we may hear its simple, oft-repeated
song, through the day, and to a late hour of the
night. It feeds on insects, caterpillars, &c. and is
said also to eat the eggs of small birds.

The most curious circumstance in the history
of this bird is, that it never builds a nest itself,
but lays its eggs in the nests of other birds. The
nests she chooses for this purpose are usually
those of birds smaller than herself; and she takes
the precaution to deposit only one in a nest,
though she lays from four to six in a season ;

THE CUCKOO. 169

evidently aware that there will not be room for
more than one of her great children to be cradled
in so confined an abode. It has been often ask-
ed in what manner the female cuckoo introduces
her eggs into nests which are either so small in
their dimensions, or so contracted in their en-
trance, that she cannot possibly get into them.
It now seems ascertained that the mode she
adopts is to carry an egg in her bill, and drop it
into the nest she has chosen. The young cuckoo,
soon after it is hatched, usually turns out of the
nest the eggs or young birds of its foster-mother.
But though the cuckoo thus puts out her chil-
dren to be nursed, she by no means deserts them,
or ceases to feel a parental interest in her pro-
geny. She has been seen to hover round the
tree where the young bird is lodged, singing near
it, and evidently answering its cries with her
song ; as if willing to visit and pay it kind atten-
tions, though she cannot take the trouble of nurs-
ing. We must not blame the poor cuckoo for
this peculiarity, but should rather regard the
circumstance as a singular instance of the pro-
vision made by the great Author of Nature for
every living creature.

The cuckoo does not seem fitted, like other
birds, to undertake the charge of hatching and
rearing her young ; but she is directed, by the

170 THE CUCKOO.

unfailing instinct implanted in her nature, where
to seek a supply of her wants ; and the bird whose
nest she selects is, by a similar wonderful instinct,
inclined to feed and cherish the stranger thus in-
truded upon her.

Cuckoos may be heard from April to the end of
June, when they generally cease to sing; but they
do not leave this country till the beginning or
middle of September. The early cold, and the
scarcity of insects and soft fruits, drive them to
seek refuge in warmer climates. They take their
flight at this season to the fruitful islands of the
Grecian Archipelago, and into Africa; from
whence they come back to us in the spring, and
again cheer us with their well-known song.

Cuckoos are not usually seen in numbers, but
such congregations sometimes occur. A friend
of ours had, for many years, an aged apple-tree
in his orchard, which he was wont to call the
cuckoo-tree. Every spring this particular tree
was visited, not by a solitary bird, but by per-
fect flocks of cuckoos, who flew around it or
rested on its branches, making an extraordinary
uproar; mixing with their well-known cuckoo
notes various strange cries and croakings, and
altogether producing a very uncommon sort of
concert. Day after day, for about a week after
their arrival in England, they visited the apple-

THE CUCKOO.

tree, and after amusing themselves in this way,
flew off to their various haunts.

The tree so completely acquired the name of
the bird, that the fruit it bore came to be distin-
guished from the other produce of the orchard,
as apples from the cuckoo-tree. At length the
fall of the venerable tree was decreed. It was
cut down a few years since ; and from that time,
no such flocks of cuckoos have congregated there.
The cuckoo-note is still heard in the orchard,
and the birds have evidently not deserted the
neighbourhood ; but the fall of their tristing-tree
seems to have broken the charm which gathered
them to one spot.

THE CUCKOO'S SONG.

Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! I cry :

I come to tell that the paths are dry :

I come to tell that the frost is gone,

And a cheerful time is coming on ;

For the wint'ry storms are heard no more,

And the smiling spring stands at the door ;

And radiant skies, and balmy showers,

Will cover the fields with leaves and flowers.

Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo! I sing;
And welcome news to the land I bring.
I have flown afar, over earth and sea,
In England's pleasant vallies to be,

i 2

172 THE HONEY-CUCKOO.

When the daisy decks the village-green,
And the early primrose-flowers are seen ;
When the forest-buds begin to swell,
And the violets spring in the sheltered dell.

Cu ckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! I cry,
And the children hear me joyfully ;
As with laugh and bound they hasten out,
The valley rings with their merry shout.
Gleeful and gladly they frolic along,
And cheerily mock the cuckoo's song.
Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! they cry :
They are light of heart, and so am I.

ORDER SCANSORES.

Honey- Cuckoo.
Cuculus Indicator.

THE indicators are species of cuckoo found in
Africa, and celebrated for feeding on honey.
They serve as guides in the discovery of the
hives of wild honey. Among these, one of whose
habits the most minute details have been given,
is the honey-cuckoo. This bird is found in
various parts of Africa ; and its favourite food is
honey, and the larvae of bees. On these delica-
cies, however, it cannot regale; until the bee's-

THE HONEY-CUCKOO. 173

nest has been opened, either by man or some
animal stronger than itself. Nature has endow-
ed it with so keen a scent for honey, that it can
discover the nests of the wild bees, however care-
fully they may be concealed. Thus gifted, the
indicator threads the mazes of the forest, and
traces the wild bee to its home; acting as a guide
both to man and a quadruped called the ratel,
leading them with the utmost accuracy to the
spot where the nectareous hoard is deposited.
Its mode of communicating the discovery it has
made, as related by Vaillant, is truly wonderful.
Morning and evening are its principal meal-
times. It is then that it usually comes forth,
and uttering its cry of cheer, cheer, cheer, seems
to invite the honey-hunters to follow him through
the pathless wilderness. This signal is gladly
hailed by the natives, or colonists, who may
chance to hear it; and some person usually re-
pairs to the spot whence the sound proceeds.
The bird watches the approach of the hunter,
and then flies slowly towards the quarter where
the bee's-nest is to be found, continually repeating
his cry of cheer, cheer, cheer. The hunter care-
fully follows his little guide, occasionally answer-
ing his call by a low, gentle whistle. As they
draw nearer to the nest, the bird reiterates his
cry with greater earnestness and frequency, as if

174 THE HONEY-CUCKOO.

impatient of delay. Sometimes, in his eagerness
to reach the point of attraction, he outstrips the
speed' of the hunters, and leaves them far be-
hind : then turning back, he flies to meet them,
and seems, by his redoubled cries, as if he would
upbraid them for the tardiness of their move-
ments, and urge them to proceed with greater
rapidity. Arrived at the nest, the little bird
stays his flight, and pausing, with outspread
wing, hovers over the spot for a few seconds,
long enough to indicate it to his followers : then
flying to a neighbouring tree or bush, he con-
ceals himself in the foliage, and patiently waits
for his share of the booty, which the hunters do
not fail to leave for one who has proved himself
so much their benefactor.

These birds are considered so valuable by the
inhabitants, that they will not permit any of them
to be destroyed.

THE HONEY-BIRD'S SONG.

Give heed, give heed to the honey-bird's song,
With my cheer, cheer, cheer, the wild woods among ;
Tho' far in the forest perchance I may fly,
The hunter of honey must follow my cry,
Till in clefted rocks, or in hollow trees,
I find out the stores of the forest-bees.
Give heed to my notes, so shrill and clear :
Come follow the honey -bird, cheer, cheer, cheer.

THE HONEY-CUCKOO.

Oh ! linger not, hunters, the way is long ;
Come follow me swiftly the woods among :
Wherever the golden honey is stored,
I will guide your steps to the secret hoard ;
For the wild bee's path through the sky I can trace,
And I follow the flight of their airy race.
Give heed to my notes, so shrill and clear :
Come follow the honey -bird, cheer, cheer, cheer.

And now let the foot of the hunter rest,
For we pause at last by the wild bee's nest.
Lo ! here is honey enough and to spare :
Then refuse not your winged guide his share.
So the signal cry of your herald-bird,
Morning and evening shall duly be heard.
Give heed to my note, so shrill and clear :
Come follow the hone}'-bird, cheer, cheer, cheer.

176

THE FOURTH ORDER.

GALLING.

The Gallinaceous birds are so named from their affinity to
the domestic cock.

This order is composed chiefly of a very natural family, re-
markable for having furnished us with the most part of our
domestic poultry, and with some excellent game. — Cuvier.

ORDER GALLING.

The Ring-dove. Cushat.

Columba Palumbus.

THIS is the largest of the pigeon, or dove tribe.
It is seventeen inches in length. It inhabits
woods and forests, and selects the highest trees
for its abode. It is so shy and retired a bird,

THE RING-DOVE. 177

that we rarely see it, though its soft, gentle coo,
may be heard in fine mild weather, by those
who dwell in the neighbourhood of woods, or
wander beneath their shade ; and we know no
sound more expressive of tranquil enjoyment
than this soft wood-note, coming out of the depths
of the grove or the forest, when the air is calm
and the skies are blue, and the fields are arrayed
in their summer loveliness. The greater part
of the ring-doves are supposed to leave England
in November : they pass over to the continents of
Asia and Africa, and do not return till March.
The cones of the pine, the fir, and the larch,
furnish their favourite food ; they likewise feed
on beech-nuts, acorns, herbs, wild fruits and
grains. In countries where the myrtle abounds,
myrtle-berries seem their chosen dainties ; and
when thus fed, their flesh is said to acquire a par-
ticularly fine flavour. The ring-dove builds its
nest on the tops of the highest trees. It rears
two broods in the year, the first in April, the
second in July. The eggs are rarely more than
two. The male and female birds divide the la-
bour of hatching them, and in sixteen or eighteen
days the young birds make their appearance.
This bird is found in most of the countries of
Europe.

We need scarcely refer to the emblematic use

i 5

178 THE RING-DOVE.

made of the clove by writers of every age, as a
symbol of purity, gentleness, fidelity, &c. She
is, indeed, surrounded by a bright halo of hal-
lowed associations, some of which are of too sa-
cred a nature to be lightly alluded to. We can
never cease to turn with delight to that interest-
ing page in the history of the world, in which
the dove is first introduced to our notice, as one
of the many inmates of the ark. From early in-
fancy our attention is rivetted by the beautiful
and touching narrative of the inspired historian,
who describes the gentle bird going forth from
her place of shelter, and returning thither again
and again, until the overflowing waters, re-
strained once more within appointed limits, left
the earth a fit dwelling-place for man, and bird,
and beast.

Doves have been long held in the highest ve-
neration by the Eastern nations. They were
classed by Moses as clean birds, and might be
offered in sacrifice by those who were too poor to
bring a more costly oblation.

Names derived from that of the dove, in va-
rious oriental languages, seem to have been used
as descriptive of loveliness, and were especially
applied to beautiful women. The celebrated
queen Semiramis is said to have derived her
name from semir^jemamah^ the brown or moun-

THE RING-DOVE. 179

tain-dove ; and in honour of her, the dove was
used by the Syrians and Assyrians as a military
ensign.

THE DOVE.

The dove hath left her safe retreat,
And flown abroad on pinions fleet ;
O'er vale and mountain hath she sped,
And hath not where to rest her head.
No woodland nest, no shelt'ring tree,
No forest home her eye can see ;
No place of rest her foot can find,
Save in the ark she left behind.

Forsaken ark ! thy safe retreat

Fain would the weary wand'rer greet ;

With flagging wing and feeble frame,

She seeks the home from whence she came.

And will the door unclose again,

Or shall the exile plead in vain ?

Oh! not in vain her plaintive cry ;

For there is One whose wakeful eye,

Still watching in the failing light,

Beholds from far her homeward flight,

Opens again the closed door,

And takes the wand'rer in once more.

Oh ! rest thee now, thou wand'ring dove,
Bound by the silken cord of love;
Within that sacred ark remain,
Nor tempt the faithless world again.

180 THE RING-DOVE.

THE CUSHAT, OR RING-DOVE.

When the flowers of May are seen,
And fields and woods again are green ;
When summer skies are softly blue,
We hear the ring-dove's gentle coo.
That peaceful sound to me is dear,
I love that soft coo, coo, to hear.

It seems with sweet and gentle voice,
In nature's bounties to rejoice :
It seems to say, what home so blest,
So tranquil as the cushat's nest ?
That soft coo, coo, to me is dear,
I love the peaceful sound to hear,

Wand' ring at eve the woods among,
I love to hear the ring-dove's song ;
Or at the noon-tide's sultry hour,
Reposing in the sylvan bower.
That peaceful sound is ever dear,
I love that soft coo, coo, to hear.

Let me hear that gentle strain,
Soft cooing cushat, once again ;
To my list'ning ear it seems
Like peaceful music heard in dreams.
That gentle sound is ever dear,
I love that soft coo, coo, to hear.

THE WOOD-GROUSE. 181

ORDER GALLING.

The Wood-Grouse. Cock of the Wood, or Capercaile.

Tetrao Urogallus.

THIS beautiful bird, once abundant in the High-
lands of Scotland, is now become rare. Its
length is nearly three feet, and the extent of its
wings nearly four. It is about the month of
March or April, when the buds of the beech-
tree begin to unfold, that the wood-grouse is to
be seen in his summer retreats, among his native
wooded mountains.

In a fanciful mood we might be almost in*
clined to give this bird the credit of being a lover
of the picturesque. His chosen resort is said,
generally, to be some mountain declivity, ex-
posed to the earliest beams of the rising sun, in
the neighbourhood of a torrent, and where the
lofty pine-trees grow, furnishing him at once
with a resting-place by night, and a tower of ob-
servation by day. On one of these pines the
male bird may be found uttering the cry peculiar
to his species, at the sound of which the females

182 THE WOOD-GROUSE.

assemble on the ground around the tree. With
eyes sparkling, the feathers of the head and neck
erect, the wings extended, the tail spread out and
raised, the lordly bird paces over the thick
branches, or parades along the trunk of a fallen
tree, making the solitude resound with its cries:
these may be heard from two o'clock in the
morning till day-break ; he then descends from
the tree, and accompanies the birds assembled
around him, often to the number of six or eight,
in search of food. In the evening he returns to
his post, and resumes his station on the lofty tree.
The capercaile is so wary a bird, that though
the sportsman may be acquainted with his haunts,
and may invade them, on murderous thoughts
intent, it is not easy to compass his destruc-
tion. It is impossible to get within gun-shot of
him, except while he is uttering the cries we
have described. If the fowler is still resolved to
make him his prey, he should remain immoveable
from the moment the bird is silent. It is said
that the least motion will drive him away, and
that the crackling of the leaves, or even an in-
considerate movement of the eyes, will put him
on his guard; and when once he has discovered
his danger, he is no longer approachable. The
peculiar cry of which the fowler must take ad-
vantage, may be expressed by the syllables he-

THE WOOD-GROUSE. 183

de-he-de-he , frequently reiterated. But the bird
has another cry, during the utterance of which
it is useless to attempt getting near him, for he
is then alive to the slightest sound, and can de-
tect the gentlest movement ; this cry we are told
is something like dod, uttered several times, and
then do-del, do-del, dodelder, repeated with
astonishing rapidity. The organs of sight and
hearing, in this species, appear to be perfect in
an almost inconceivable degree.*

The capercaile was once to be met with in the
mountainous parts of Ireland, as well as Scotland;
but seems now to be nearly, if not quite extinct
there. It is found in the vast forests of Ger-
many, and is common in Sweden, Norway, and
all the north of Russia. During the severe
weather of the last winter, a novel scene was one
day exhibited in London. A man, seated near
the Exchange, had a table before him covered
with some hundreds of the beautiful snow-white
ptarmigan described in the next article, inter-
mingled with some magnificent capercailes : they
were dead, and frozen to stony hardness, and in
this state had been brought over from Denmark
as an adventure. They were speedily sold, and

* See Griffith's Cuvier, Supplement to the Order Galling.

184 THE WOOD-GROUSE.

some were sent to a gentleman near Bristol, who
presented a fine pair of each to the Philosophical
Institution in that city, as a valuable addition to
the treasures of the museum, where they may
now be seen.

THE SONG OF THE WOOD-GROUSE.

You must look for me

On my mountain tree,
Where the hardy pine uncultured grows,
Where the foaming torrent wildly flows $

There look for me,

On my mountain tree,
With my clarion note he-de-he-de-hc.

Where the sun's bright ray,

Doth earliest play,

Flinging his beams on the mountain side ;
There in my chosen retreat I abide :

And the rocks reply

To my gathering cry,
As I sound my clarion notes on high.

From the twilight grey,

To the break of day,

The woodland and cliffs to my notes resound,
While I call my companions to gather around.

Then gaily I lead,

Where safely they feed,
And my gathering cry no longer they need.

THE PTARMIGAN-GROUSE. 185

Your hour is gone by,

To the forest I fly,
When once my clarion notes are o'er,
The wariest sportsman sees me no more.

You must look for me

On my mountain tree,
If ever the bonny wood-grouse you would see.

ORDER GALLINJE.

The Ptarmigan-Grouse.

Tetrao Lagopus.

THE greater part of the gallinaceous tribes are
inhabitants of warm or mild climates, and enjoy
all the advantages of serene skies and fertile
soils, rich in the productions of nature, abundantly
supplying all their wants. There are, however,
some species to whom the cold and cheerless
wastes of the north are allotted : there they dwell,
in the midst of snow-covered mountains, and
wild scenes of desolate grandeur, sharing the do-
minions of these frozen regions with the few
hardy animals who are, like themselves, fitted to
endure the intensity of cold. Of all the species
of gallinse, the ptarmigan is the only one which
is capable of braving the severity of these icy

186 THE PTARMIGAN-GROUSE.

climes. He who alone maketh us to differ, and
whose wisdom adapts every creature to its ap-
pointed station, has singularly suited the ptar-
migan to his alpine home. The fur-clad nobles
of Russia are not provided with so complete a de-
fence from the wintry blast, as these wild tenants
of the snow-covered mountains. Like the house-
hold of Solomon's good wife, they need not fear
the snow, for they are clad in double garments.
Every part of their bodies is clothed with a thick
down, and this again is covered by so close and
massive a plumage, that the snow and rain can-
not penetrate it, nor the icy gale pierce through
it. Their feet and toes, instead of being naked,
like others of their tribe, are furnished, like their
legs, with downy feathers, very long and close,
and far more abundant in winter than in summer.

Their food consists of berries, heath, alpine
grasses, and the buds of mountain plants and
shrubs. In winter they are said to feed chiefly
on the buds of the rhododendron and pine ;
these being completely, and often very deeply
covered with the snow, they could not reach
them but for another gift of nature, which
enables them to open these store-chambers
wherein their winter's provision is so bountifully
laid up for their use. Strong claws of a very
peculiar structure, long and broad, enable them

THE PTARMIGAN-GROUSE. 187

to penetrate the snow to a great depth, in search
of their hidden food. Nor is this all that is
worthy of notice as fitting them for their
wild abiding place : living in the midst of
snows, if they had the bright colours of many of
their race, they would have little chance of con-
cealing themselves from their enemies ; to afford
them this security, a snow-white covering has
been given them, which serves, in great measure,
to hide them from the piercing glance of birds
of prey, as it is very difficult to distinguish their
silvery plumage from the gleaming whiteness of
surrounding snows. They are found in the
most northern parts of Europe, Asia, and Ame-
rica, where perpetual winter reigns, and on lofty
mountains in the central parts of these continents.
The most common species is the ptarmigan-
grouse, the lagopus of the ancients. This bird
is found in various countries of central Europe
and Asia, and also in North America. In this
country it is only to be met with on the summits
of some of our highest hills, chiefly in the high-
lands of Scotland, the Hebrides, the Orkneys,
and sometimes, though but rarely, on the lofty
hills of Cumberland, and the mountains of the
Principality. Fitted to inhabit frozen regions,
it dreads the influence of the sun, and is seldom
found on the southern sides of mountains. In

188 THE PTARMIGAN-GROUSE.

the summer, these birds select spots which are
sheltered from both sun and wind ; as it seems
wind is ungenial to them, though they delight in
cold.

When the snowy season is past, they are no
longer clothed in white, but their feathers as-
sume a light brown, or ashen colour, which so
closely resembles the hue of the rocks, in the
midst of which they dwell, that the keen eye of
their watchful enemy, the kite, cannot without
difficulty detect their retreat. They make their
summer abode amid the rocks, and on the moun-
tainous platforms which are found at various
stages of the alpine regions, above the wooded
tracts that cover their base. During the heat of
the day they conceal themselves beneath the
tufts of rhododendrons and other shrubs, and are
neither seen nor heard by the traveller until his
foot almost touches them ; then they suddenly
escape, with a loud whirring noise of the wings,
perfectly startling to the solitary wanderer. In
the winter they descend somewhat lower ; but
never appear in the plains unless the season is
unusually severe. When the mountains are
wrapped in mist, and the heavy atmosphere in-
dicates the approach of snow or rain, the shrill
cries of the ptarmigans are incessantly heard. But
when the air is light and pure, and the sky se-

THE PTARMIGAN-GROUSE. 189

rene, then they sail about in tranquil enjoyment,
and pursue their flight in perfect silence.

The female lays from eight to fifteen eggs, of
an oblong form and an ashen red colour, with spots
of blackish brown. The ptarmigan is so wary a
bird, that it can rarely be lured into snares of
any kind, and is therefore usually pursued with
a fowling-piece. All attempts to hatch and rear
it, in a domestic state, have been unsuccessful.
Fitted to live in the pure air of mountainous
elevations, it is scarcely likely that it should
thrive amid the heavier atmosphere of the plains.
In fact, it would seem almost as much out of its
element in the warm and fertile vallies of the
south, as does the camel from the deserts of
Arabia contending with the cold climate and
stony soil of the northern regions.

SONG OF THE PTARMIGAN.

'Mid eternal snows

I love to repose :

When the waters in icy fetters are bound,
In the chambers of snow my portion is found.

I lay up no store,

'Mid the mountains hoar,
I have but to open their marble door.

190 THE PTARMIGAN-GROUSE.

I delight to sail

In the icy gale ;

But the gentle breeze of the balmy spring
Would weaken the force of my snowy wing.

Where the mountains rise

To the azure skies,
Amid the pure ether the ptarmigan flies.

Tho' the birds that feed

In the grove or mead,

May rejoice in the range of their lower flight;
Yet the snowy crags of the Alpine height,

And the mountain air,

So free and rare,
I would not exchange for their valleys fair.

Oh ! bid me not roam

From my mountain home ;
The rich harvests that load the fertile plain,
With the luscious fruits and the golden grain,

Are less to my mind

Than the berries I find,
Waving on high in the keen mountain wind.

'Mid eternal snows

I love to repose ;

I build not my nest in the shelter'd vale,
For my wing would flag in the southern gale.

To the Alpine height

I take my flight,
' And there I dwell in a world of light.

191

THE FIFTH ORDER.

WADERS, OB GRALL.E,

Are named from their habits. They may be known by the
nudity of the lower part of the legs, and, in general, by
the height of their tarsi, circumstances which enable them
to walk to a certain depth in the water without wetting
their feathers, and thus to fish by means of their neck and
bill, which are in general proportioned to the length of the
legs. Those which have a strong bill, feed on fish and rep-
tiles ; those whose bill is weak, on worms and insects. A
very small number of them feed partially on grains and
herbs, and these alone live at a distance from the water.
Almost all these birds, if we except the ostriches and the
cassowary, have long wings, and are good flyers; they
stretch their legs behind them in flight, contrary to other
birds, who fold them up.— Cuvier.

ORDER GRALLJE.

The Common Sandpiper.
Tringa Hypoleucos.

THE common sandpiper is not numerous in Eng-
land, but it is often seen during the summer

192 THE COMMON SANDPIPER.

months, seeking its insect prey on the pebbly
margin of our lakes and rivers. It leaves us in
the autumn ; but to what place it wings its flight
has not, we believe, been noticed. There is some-
thing peculiarly sweet and musical in the clear
piping cry of this elegant little bird, as it skims
along the shores of some of the northern lakes ;
the sound, on a still summer night, breaking at
intervals on the ear, then dying away in the
distance. These notes are rendered still more
pleasing, by the circumstance of their being con-
sidered as certain indications of the continuance
of fine weather, by the inhabitants of those dis-
tricts in which the sandpiper takes up its sum-
mer abode.

In our island climate, it is always " a pleasant
thing to behold the sun," and those sights and
sounds of nature, which from their more frequent
occurrence in warm and genial seasons, are sup-
posed to foretel fine weather, are welcomed with
cheerful, sometimes with almost affectionate feel-
ings, by those whose amusements or employ-
ments lead them much into the open air.

The pretty scarlet pimpernel, with its appro-
priate name, the shepherd's weather-glass, though
it brings not, like the song of the sandpiper, the
hope of settled fine weather, is said only to ex-
pand its blossom in the morning, when no rain

THE COMMON SANDPIPER. 193

falls during the day. Those who in childhood,
at the commencement of an excursion in the
country, have watched with anxiety for its beau-
tiful, salver-shaped blossom and purple eye, will
seldom pass it in their walks, without feeling as
if they had been gladdened by the face of a kind
and cheerful friend, wishing them a pleasant
ramble, and promising the enjoyment of dry foot-
paths and sun-lighted prospects. The voice of
such a friend, is that of the little sandpiper, to
those who wander amidst the mountains of
Westmoreland and Cumberland, or sail on their
silver lakes.

THE SANDPIPER.

Gay little bird of the lake's green shores,
Thy sweet wild notes the wanderer hails,

In the ling'ring pauses of homeward oars,
Or the slow dull flapping of idle sails.

Night is hastening on ; but we hear thy song,
And the deep'ning shadows no more we see ;

With light hearts now we are gliding along,
For the syren Hope, h?s sung with thee.

There is music that tells, in that piping cry,
Of joy and beauty a thousand tales,

Of glorious suns in the clear, bright sky,

That will gild our path among hill and vales.

K

194 THE WHITE STORK.

When thou trillest thy song, summer's balmy wing
Chases mists and clouds from the mountain's brow ;

More sweetly the birds of the grove may sing,
But none are so welcome and gay as thou.

L.

ORDER GRALL^E.

The White Stork.
Ardea Ciconia.

THE white storks, though now rare visitants, are
still occasionally found in this country. One was
shot in the county of Suffolk last year. They
are birds of such pleasing and interesting habits,
that if we knew by what means they might be
induced to colonize in our island, we should cer-
tainly attempt to lure them hither. Unlike the
black stork, who selects as its favourite haunts
the lonely desert and the desolate morass, and
builds its nest in the depths of the forest, the
white stork seeks the neighbourhood of mankind,
and fixes its abode in populous cities. Every
where it is the welcome and confiding guest of
man, building its nest on the roof of his house,

THE WHITE STORK. 195

and seeking its prey in his fields and gardens.
It is peculiarly protected in Holland, where it
makes itself very valuable to the inhabitants, by
clearing the marshes and humid valleys from the
lizards, serpents, frogs, and other reptiles with
which they are infested. The Vaudois honour
it for the same cause, and will not suffer it to be
molested. The Oriental nations generally regard
it as a sacred bird, and prohibit its destruction.
The Arab looks on its presence as a pledge of
the welfare of his family, and would deem it a
crime to violate the rights of hospitality due to
his winged guest. The Mahomedans call it bel-
arje ; and consider it nearly as sacred as the an-
cient Egyptians did the ibis. To disturb them
would be thought a profanation, much more to
kill them. In ancient Thessaly it was so highly
prized for its services, in clearing the country of
serpents, that its destruction was forbidden under
pain of death. The Moors look on it as sacri-
lege to kill one of these birds ; and in the valley
of Monkazem, in Barbary, it is reported they
are more numerous than the inhabitants.

Nor is it only on account of its usefulness
that the stork is thus highly esteemed by man ;
much of the honour it receives, arises from its
being considered emblematic of high moral qua-
lities, of which we shall speak hereafter. It is

K 2

196 THE WHITE STORK.

time we should refer more minutely to its habits.
The disposition of this bird is gentle and con-
fiding ; it is easily tamed, and has been known
to mingle with the sports of children, yielding
itself to their playfulness, as if willing to con-
tribute to their amusement. The stork is a most
devoted parent, feeding her young for a long
period, and aiding them with the tenderest care,
in their first feeble attempts to fly, carrying
them on her wings, and defending them in dan-
ger with the utmost courage ; and when to save
them is impossible, she will perish with them
rather than abandon them in their extremity.

An incident which occurred in the conflagra-
tion of the city of Delft, has often been men-
tioned. " A stork was observed to make extra-
ordinary efforts to carry off her helpless brood to
a place of safety. Her attempts were unsuc-
cessful ; but though she had failed to rescue
them from the threatened destruction, she would
not desert them in their peril. She remained
with them in the midst of the flames, and shared
their fate, being thus consumed in the same fu-
neral pile with her beloved family."

In maternal tenderness, however, the storks are
not unequalled by other birds ; but they exceed
them all in the filial affection the young evince to-
wards their parents. "We have been interested by

THE WHITE STORK. 197

observing the regard some of the gallinae race,
particularly the Guinea fowls, show for the fos-
ter-parent, usually a common hen, under whose
wing they have been reared. However nume-
rous the inmates of the poultry-yard, the Guinea-
fowls never fail to recognise their former pro-
tectress, for many months after they have ceased
to be her charge, greeting her apparently with a
few kindly words, whenever they chance to meet,
and often walking by her side for some time, as
if to prolong the conversation. We have been
struck by this as a very pleasing instance, in
which the birds of the air might read a lesson to
ungrateful man. But the gentle stork goes much
further than our acquaintance of the poultry-
yard. Reared and foptered with the tenderest
care by the parent birds, they return in a later
day all the kindness they have received, bestow-
ing on them the most affectionate attentions
when they are old and feeble : they bring them
food when languishing under sickness and debi-
lity, and in their long migratory flights they are
said to assist these aged parents by carrying
them on their backs.

Sir John Hill quotes, from a Danish writer,
an account of the manner in which the storks
return to that country in the spring. " At this
time it is not uncommon to see several of the old

198 THE WHITE STORK.

birds, who are tired and feeble with their long
flight, supported at times on the backs of the
young; and the peasants speak of it as a cer-
tainty, that many of these are, when they return
to their home, laid carefully in the old nests, and
cherished by the young ones, which they reared
with so much care the spring before. If the ac-
count this gentleman gives (says Sir John) be
singular, it is in no part unnatural. We see in-
numerable instances of what we call instinct, and
who shall say that this is too great for credit?
Who shall lay down laws to determine where the
gifts of a Creator to his creatures shall stop, or
how they shall be limited."

This filial devotion of the stork has long been
marked by man, and justly admired. When
the ancient Greeks passed a law, obliging children
to support their parents, .they gave it a name
which had reference to this bird. " Its very name
in the Hebrew language," says a modern writer,
" signifies mercy, or piety ; and its English
name is taken, if not directly, yet secondarily,
through the Saxon, from the Greek word storge,
which is often used in our language for natural
affection."*

Among the Romans the appearance of a stork

* Harris's.Nat. Hist, of the Bible.

THE WHITE STORK. 199

was considered by their augurs as significant of
union and concord ; while its departure, under
any adverse circumstances was held to be a sure
presage of misfortune.

It is related of Atilla, that when about to
raise the s«^e of Aquileia, wearied out by a pro-
tracted resistance, he changed his plan and con-
tinued the siege, because some storks had been
observed to fly away from the place, bearing
their young with them ; thus, according to the
prevailing opinion, indicating that the fall of the
devoted city was at hand. In the Egyptian
hieroglyphics it was used as a symbol of piety
and beneficence. It was likewise adopted by the
Romans, as an emblem on the medals of such of
their princes as received the appellation of plus.

These birds emigrate from the European
countries they frequent, in the autumn : they pre-
pare for their departure about the end of August,
all the storks in a district assembling on some
plain or open place daily, for some little time be-
fore the important journey is commenced. When
assembled, a great clattering of bills takes place,
and they appear to seek out and recognise each
other, and hold counsel on their approaching
flight. On some occasions these assemblies are
very tumultuous, and from arguments the se-
nators proceed to blows. In due time, however,

200 THE WHITE STORK.

all matters are arranged, the period for their de-
parture is fixed, and all the birds, arising with
one consent, are soon on their way, sailing high
amid the clouds.

It is not frequently that opportunities of ob-
serving their departure occur, as it often takes
place in the night ; and moreover, instead of
flying off with much clamour, after the manner
of the noisy cranes and wild geese, they set forth
in silence, like beings who embark in some high
emprize, with which they are too much occupied
to give it utterance. They have been compared
to well disciplined warriors, proceeding on their
course with the utmost order, and in perfect
silence.

Milton has thus described their flight.

" Part loosely wing the region, part more rise,
In common, ranged in figure, wedge their way.
Intelligent of seasons, and set forth
Their airy caravan, high over seas
Flying, and over lands, with mutual wing
Easing their flight."

The southern countries to which they prin-
cipally migrate for the winter season, are Egypt
and Barbary, where they are found in great
numbers, in the autumn and winter. Most of
these, on the return of spring, fly back to their
old haunts in the northern climates, each couple.

THE WHITE STORK. 201

it is said, repairing with the utmost punctuality
to the nest they had occupied in the previous
season: or if the nest should have been de-
stroyed, building afresh on the site occupied
by their former dwelling. In Alsace, Lorraine,
and Holland, the inhabitants fix boxes on the
roofs of their houses, for the accommodation of
their annual visitors ; who on their part appeared
to be sensible of the kindness of their entertain-
ers, and are said to show marks of attachment to
their hosts.*

The stork is repeatedly mentioned in the
Scriptures. It is, however, evident that the
well-known passage in the Psalms, " As for the
stork, the fir-trees are her house," refers to the
black stork, a bird as fond of solitude as the
white stork is of society; choosing the thick
woods for its abiding-place, and building its nest
in tall trees, especially fir-trees.

There is a passage in the prophet Jeremiah
that applies equally to the black and the white
stork. It is that in which the prophet contrasts
the inconsiderate and forgetful nature of man,
(who neglects to obey the laws of his Maker, and
is not careful to follow the path marked out to
him by the daily course of providential events,)

See Griffith's Cuvier.

K 5

202 THE WHITE STORK.

with the constant and never-failing obedience of
the birds of the air, to the instinct with which
they are endowed. " Yea, the stork in the heaven
knoweth her appointed times ; and the turtle,
and the crane, and the swallow observe the time
of their coming ; but my people know not the
judgment of the Lord."

We could scarcely see the out-spread wings of
the stork extended in flight, without being re-
minded of the descriptive language of Zechariah :
" The wind was in their wings ; for they had
wings, like the wings of a stork."

The beautiful imagery of Scripture is rich
in allusions to various subjects of natural his-
tory, continually elucidating the most important
themes by reference to the visible created beings
of this lower world. And this connexion ap-
pears to us so interesting, that we delight to
trace it ourselves, and to point it out to our
young readers, wherever we can.

THE STORK,

Devoting herself to death, with her offspring, in the conflagration
of a burning City.

The flames are on the city-walls,
Temple, and tower, and palace falls ;
Danger and death are hovering near,
And shrieks of terror wound the ear.

THE WHITE STORK. 203

Look upward at that feeble bird :
From her no cry of woe is heard;
With all a mother's love possest,
She hovers fondly o'er her nest,
And ev'ry tender art she tries,
To bear her children thro' the skies.

Poor bird ! in vain is all thy care :
Thy cherish'd ones must perish there :
Their doom is seal'd, they can but die ;
But thou mayst spread thy wings and fly.
Thy children soon must breathe their last,
Their death-pang will be quickly past.
All that maternal love can do
Has proved thee faithful, fond and true.
Oh ! linger not a moment more,
Thy chance of life will soon be o'er.

Think ye maternal love will cease,
When danger and distress increase ?
Believe it not — stronger than death,
It braves the fierce volcano's breath ;
Undaunted faces every ill,
And bids the tempest work its will :
Lifts to the last the guardian shield,
And cannot fly, and will not yield.
That faithful Jbird heeds not your cry,
She will not spread her wings and fly.

Think not maternal love can tire ;
That nest will be her funeral pyre.
More closely still she spreads her wings
Above those feeble, trembling things.
" Fly, faithful bird, there still is space,
Nor perish with thy helpless race !"
She heeds us not i — the flames ascend,
And all in one wide ruin blend ;
And since their lives she cannot save,
She shares with them one common grave.

204 THE WHITE STORK.

Firm courage that will never quail,
Still strongest in the stormiest gale,
Undaunted zeal wouldst thou behold ?
Oh ! go not to the stern and cold ;
But where the warm affections dwell,
There look thou for its mightiest spell :
For love, e'en in its lowest form,
Hath power the coward heart to warm,
And in its highest, calleth down
The strength that wins the martyr's crown.

205

THE SIXTH ORDER.

PALMIPEDES OR SWIMMERS.

The birds of this order are characterised by their feet and
legs formed for swimming; that is to say, placed far back
on the body, with short and compressed tarsi, and webs
between the toes. A close, shining plumage, moistened
by an oily secretion, and furnished near the skin with a
thick down, protects them from the water, on the surface
of which they live. They are also the only birds in
which the neck is longer, and sometimes considerably so,
than the legs ; because, while swimming on the surface,
they have frequent occasion to seek their food below
it, — Cuvicr.

ORDER PALMIPEDES.

The Herring Gull. Silvery Gull.
Larus Argentatus.

FEW persons can have frequented the shores of
our island, without observing and admiring the

206

THE GULL.

numerous birds of this tribe, which hover over
the rocks, burst screaming from the crags, or
ride, with a composure truly wonderful, on the
foaming wave. We remember to have heard
that some English family bears the gull for its
crest, with the motto, " Composed in the midst
of storms." Such a device must rank as one of
the most tasteful of heraldic decorations. The
notes of the gull are anything but musical; yet
they mingle well with wind and wave, and har-
monize with the scenes in the midst of which
these birds are found. Though devoid of the
charms of song, they have abundant attractions
for the wanderer who watches their movements,
and listens to their wild cries in their favourite
haunts. How beautiful are they, when seen
wheeling their flight over the base of the steep
cliffs at sunset, reflecting the golden light on
their white wings and breasts, till they look like
the dove of the sacred bard, " whose wings are
of silver, and her feathers of wrought gold!"
And what can be so expressive of reposing con-
fidence and self-possession amidst change and
turbulence, as the quiet floating of this pleasant
bird on the swell of the billow, as it rolls onward
to break in foam upon the rocks, leaving the
little swimmer undisturbed on its restless resting-
place ?

THE GULL. 207

Of the gulls in general, Bewick observes:
" The bill is strong and straight, but bent down-
wards at the point; the nostrils pervious, ob-
long and narrow, and placed in the middle. The
lower mandible has an angular prominence on
the under side, which tapers towards, and forms
its tip. The tongue is a little cloven. The
body is clothed with a great quantity of down
and feathers, which, together with the large head
and wings, give these birds an appearance of
bulk without a proportionate weight. The legs
are small, naked above the knees: feet webbed,
and the back toe detached, and very small."

Gulls are found in every quarter of the world,
and various species frequent our native shores.
They are said to be a voracious race, feeding on
either flesh or fish in any state in which they
can procure it. In consequence of their nature
requiring so large a portion of food, they are
compelled to use constant exertion to obtain a
supply, and are almost continually on the wing,
or breasting -he wave in search of prey. They
fly vast distances, and have been met with more
than a hundred leagues from land. It appears
to be very difficult for them to procure food
amid the violence of tempests and hurricanes,
though they are still seen on the ocean, safe
amid the war of elements. A naturalist at Na-

208 THE GULL.

pies made some interesting observations on these
birds during a tempestuous season. He re-
marked that the gulls, which from time to time
dropped on the sea, were too light to sink be-
neath the surface, and were tossed about like
mere balls of feather. For a few moments they
seemed swallowed up, but presently they were
seen again on the summit of the billow, safe as
the foam which crested it. From this unstable
bed they sprung into the air without difficulty,
notwithstanding the length of their wings. From
this circumstance it has been thought that gulls,
and other birds similarly constituted, when wea-
ried with long-continued flight over the ocean,
repose themselves on the bosom of the waters,
and when rested, spring again into the air and
pursue their course.

The herring-gull, the bird figured above, is so
named from its following and preying on the
shoals of herrings. It makes its nest on the
projecting ledges of rock. Its eggs, three in
number, are of a dull white, spotted with black.
This species is remarkable for its watchful ha-
bits : it is said, indeed, to serve as a sort of sen-
tinel to all the birds, and even the seals within
reach of its signal. The moment a sportsman
is seen with his gun, it is on the alert, and gives
warning of the danger by its loud and clamorous
cries.

THE GULL. 209

THE SEA-GULL.

On the far rolling breaker's snowy breast,
The sea-gull presses her silvery breast :
The wave is a pillow of down to her,
She heeds not the element's stormy stir :
She has peace within, and tranquil repose,
As lightly over the ocean she goes.
Her wing in the billowy surges she laves,
Composed in the tempest, at rest on the waves.

Wild, wild as the wind is the sea-bird's cry,
As far over the ocean-cliffs they fly :
It were discord, if heard in the forest glade,
Where mavis and merle sweet music have made ;
But it mingles well with the breaker's roar,
And the blast that sweeps round the rocky shore,
While the tranquil bird in the billow laves,
Composed in the tempest, at rest on the waves.

Did I wish for the lot of birds of the air,
Or long in their fleeting perfections to share ;
It is not the strength of the strongest wing,
It is not the sweetest songs that they sing,
Nor the sapphire gleam of their gem-like hues —
It is not all these that my heart would choose :
My spirit the sea-bird's serenity craves,
Composed in the tempest, at rest on the waves.

210 THE STORMY PETREL.

ORDER PALMIPEDES.

The Stormy Petrel
Procellaria Pelagica. — LINN.

BEWICK describes this bird as the least of all
the web-footed birds, measuring only about six
inches in length, and thirteen in breadth. The
upper parts of the plumage are black, sleek, and
glossed with bluish reflections ; the brow, cheeks,
and under parts, sooty brown ; some of the fea-
thers on the sides of the tail white; legs slender,
black, and scarcely an inch and three quarters
in length from the knee-joint to the end of the
toes. It resembles the chimney-swallow in its
general appearance, and the swiftness of its
flight. Cuvier mentions, as common to all the
petrels, that they have their bills bent at the
end, their nostrils united in one tube, their feet
with a claw or spur on the heel in the place of a
thumb. The most remarkable circumstance in
the habits of these little birds is their power of

THE STORMY PETREL. 211

walking on the water by means of their wings,
from whence both their French name, petit
pierre, and their English name, Petrel, are de-
rived. These hardy little creatures live almost
entirely on the sea, rarely quitting it, except to
build their nests and rear their young, who are
soon led out on the waters by their parents, and
early established as tenants of the ocean: they
are literally

" Nursed on the rock, and cradled in the storm."

Petrels are met with by navigators in every
part of the ocean, diving, running, or skimming
over the waves of the most tempestuous sea, in
perfect ease and security. The tempest, indeed,
befriends them, by bringing to the surface of the
agitated waters the marine animals on which
they feed. At the approach of a storm, it is
true, they are seen to take refuge in the wake of
a ship, or in the rigging: this is simply because
the wind having great power over their wings,
which are of an unusual extent for the size of
the bird, they sometimes find themselves unable
to resist its violence. But so little do they need
the aid of any common place of refuge from the
tempest, that when a vessel is not at hand, they
are content to shelter themselves in the deep
hollows between two swelling waves, and will

212 THE STORMY PETREL.

remain there some instants, notwithstanding the
rapid rolling of the sea. It is observed that they
run in these ever-changing furrows of the sea,
as larks do in those of the land. Such are the
habits of the Petrels, when on the ocean, which
may be said to be their home; since it is only
during a short season of the year that they visit
the land. Of the place of abode which they
select for rearing their young, a gentleman, who
made an ornithological tour to the Shetland and
Orkney Islands in the summer of 1828, has
given the following interesting description. It
was in the small and rocky island of Foula that
he met with the adventure he recounts ; and it
is necessary to give you his description of the
island, to convey a clear idea of the wild spots
the petrel chooses as the earliest home of her
young brood, before she leads them out on the
waters, to claim their inheritance of wind and
wave.

" Foula," says the traveller, " is a romantic
curiosity, being about three miles in circumfer-
ence. A range of lofty hills traverses it from
south-east 4;o north-west, and the ascent upon
the north-east side is extremely steep ; so much
so, that to attain the top, it is necessary to catch
hold of the dwarf heather at every step. On
the other side they gradually slope away to the

THE STORMY PETREL. 213

sea, and, ending abruptly, present the most
stupendous and awful precipices. The natives
are kind and hospitable, ever willing to lend you
all the assistance possible, to guide you through
the cliffs, scale the rocks, and brave the most
perilous dangers. Nursed from infancy amid
the roar of winds and waves, and the boiling
lash of the foaming surge, they traverse, with
perfect ease, the most towering and splinter-
shaped pinnacles of rock, in quest of wild-fowl
for subsistence. On the southern side of the
island is one of the most stupendous cliffs I ever
beheld. It consists of a lofty mountain, entirely
isolated, resembling a cone split or divided from
its very summit to the sea. Viewed from the
sea in a boat, it strikes the imagination as the
brickwork of a gigantic fortress, being in itself
perfectly mural, with scarcely a broken chasm or
rent observable, so regular and so beautiful is
this bulwark of nature. It is estimated to be
about one thousand five hundred feet above the
level of the sea, and is resorted to by innumer-
able hosts of aquatic birds. The kittiwake and
guillemot occupy the lowest part; above them
the herring-gull, and a few of the black-headed
gull; and higher still the Manks puffin, common
puffin, and stormy petrel; the whole forming a
scene truly delightful to the eye of the ornitho-

214 THE STORMY PETREL.

legist. As the stormy petrel is scarcely ever to
be seen near the land, except in very boisterous
weather, one of the natives, for a trifling remu-
neration, agreed to traverse the face of this rock,
and take me some from out of its fissures. Ac-
cordingly, accoutred with a rope of hemp and
hogs' bristles coiled over his shoulders, he pro-
ceeded to the cliff. Having made one end fast
by means of a stake, he threw the coil over the
face of the rock, and gradually lowered himself
down, but with the utmost caution, carefully
pressing his foot upon the narrow ridges before
he at all loosened his firm grasp of the rope,
which he never abandoned altogether. I had
previously thrown myself upon my chest, to
enable me to have a better view of him, by
looking over the cliffs; and certainly, to see the
dexterity and bravery with which he threw him-
self from one aperture to another was grand.
The Atlantic was foaming many hundred feet
beneath, and dashing its curling surges against
the dark base of the cliff, in sheets of the most
beautiful white; while the herring and black-
headed gulls sweeping past him, so as to be
almost within reach of his arms, threw wildness
into the scene, by the discordant scream of the
former, and the laughing, oft-repeated bark of
the latter. This, however, he appeared entirely

THE STORMY PETREL. 215

to disregard ; and continuing his search, returned
in about half an hour with seven or eight of the
stormy petrels tied up in an old stocking; and a
pair of Manks puffins, together with their eggs.
The birds, he told me, he had no difficulty in
capturing. The eggs of the stormy petrel are
surprisingly large, considering the diminutive
size of the bird, being as large as those of the
thrush. The female lays two eggs of a dingy
white, encircled at the larger end by a ring of
fine rust-coloured freckles. The birds merely
collect a few pieces of dried grass, with a feather
or two, barely sufficient to prevent the eggs from
rolling, or moving on the rock."*

What became of the poor petrels, thus seized
in their rocky fastnesses, and carried away cap-
tive by the hand of the spoiler, the writer does
not say. They were probably destined to enrich
some inland museum, and did not return to tell
the perils of the land to their friends on the
ocean, and rejoice with them in the safety of
rolling billows and foaming surges.

" The stormy petrel," says Wilson, " is found
over the whole Atlantic ocean, from Europe to

* See, Account of an Ornithological Visit to the Islands
of Shetland and Orkney. By R. Drosier, Esq. in Mag. of
Nat. Hist. No. 14,

216

THE STORMY PETREL.

North America, at all distances from land, and in
all weathers ; but is particularly numerous near
vessels immediately preceding and during a gale,
when flocks of them crowd in her wake, seeming
more than usually active in picking up various
matters from the surface of the water. This pre-
sentiment of a change of weather is not peculiar
to the petrels ; but is noted in many others, and
common to all.

They make their nests in the holes and cavi-
ties of the rocks upon the seas, returning to feed
their young during the night, with the super-
abundant oily matter from their stomachs. At
these times they may be heard making a con-
tinual clucking sound during the whole of the
night. In the day they are silent, and wander
widely over the ocean. The rapidity of their
flight is at least equal to the fleetness of our
swallow. One circumstance is worthy of being
noticed, and shows the vast ran^e they take over
the ocean. In firing at these birds, a quill-feather
was broken in each wing of an individual, and
hung fluttering in the wind, which rendered it so
conspicuous among the rest, as to be known to all
on board. This bird continued with us for nearly
a week, during which time we sailed a distance
of more than four hundred miles to the north-
ward.

THE STORMY PETREL. 217

As these birds often come up immediately
under the stern of vessels, one can examine their
form and plumage with nearly as much accuracy
as if they were in the hand. They fly with the
wings forming an almost horizontal straight line
with the body, the legs extended behind, and the
feet partly seen stretching beyond the tail ; their
common note of weet, weet, is scarcely louder
•than that of a young duck of a week old, and
much resembles it. During the whole of a wet
and boisterous night, which I spent on deck,
they flew about the after-rigging, making a sin-
gular hoarse chattering, which in sound resem-
bled the syllables, pa-tut-tu^cuk-cuk-tu-tu, lay-
ing the accent strongly on the second syllable
tut. Now and then I conjectured they alighted
on the rigging, making then a lower whizzing noise.

The most singular peculiarity of this bird is
its faculty of standing, and even running upon
the surface of the water, which it performs with
apparent facility. When any greasy matter is
thrown overboard, these birds instantly collect
around it, facing to windward, with their long
wings expanded, and their webbed feet pat-
ting the water : the lightness of their bodies, and
the action of the wind on their wings, enabling
them to do this with ease. In calm weather
they perform the same manoeuvre by keeping

218 THE STORMY PETREL.

their wings just so much in motion as to prevent
their feet from sinking below the surface."*

We add a short notice from our obliging orni-
thological correspondent, to whom we have al-
ready been so much indebted. — " I am informed
by mariners, that these birds, though formed for
swimming, are mostly on the wing, like our
swallow, feeding on marine insects.

" There are but one or two islands where they
are known to nestle, and where they are seen in a
state of repose. It is peculiar that they are
never seen far at sea but in stormy weather.
These birds are oftener met with inland, in Bri-
tain, than Bewick speaks of; but are driven to
this coast by bad weather." — W. K.

THE SONG OF THE STORMY PETREL.

The lark sings for joy on her own loved land,
In the furrow'd fields, by the breezes fann'd ;

And so revel we,

In the furrow'd sea,
As joyous and glad as the lark can be.

On the placid breast of the inland lake,
The wild duck delights her pastime to take ;

But the petrel braves

The wild ocean waves,
His wing in the foaming billow he laves.

* Wilson's Ornithology.

THE STORMY PETREL. 219

The halcyon loves, in the noontide beam,
To follow his sport on the tranquil stream ;

He fishes at ease

In the summer breeze,
But we go angling in stormiest seas.

No song-note have we but a piping cry,

That blends with the storm, when the winds rise high;

When the land-birds wail

We sport in the gale,
And merrily over the ocean we sail.

THE PETREL.

Bird of the ocean, whose fluttering wing,
Seems ever to touch the brink of the grave,

How can it be that so feeble a thing
Successfully combats the wind and the wave ?

He who hath formed thee, He only could give

Strength 'mid the war of the waters to live.

As the petrel braves the hurricane's gloom,
A bark has flown over the stormy sea ;

We thought that the billow had been its tomb,
But the noble vessel was floating free ;

And ploughing her course through the ocean foam,

She hath brought the sailor in safety home.

Wanderer, thy bark with its beautiful form,
And its graceful sails that bend at thy will,

Who gave it the power to strive with the storm ?
Oh ! remember, it was not thy puny skill.

The issues from death belong not to thee,

But to Him who hath formed the land and the sea.

ADDITIONAL NOTICES.

We persuade ourselves that many of our readers will
be interested with the additional observations,
chiefly on the British Song Birds, which we have
here thrown together ; they are drawn from various
sources.

THE NIGHTINGALE.

** The nightingale unites the talents of all the sing-
ing birds, and succeeds in every style — sixteen differ-
ent burdens may be reckoned in its song, well deter-
mined by the first and last notes. It can sustain the
song uninterrupted during twenty seconds, and the
sphere which its voice can fill is at least a mile in dia-
meter. Song is so peculiarly the attribute of this bird,
that even the female possesses it ; less strong and va-
ri.'^, it is true, than that of the male, but as to the rest
entirely resembling it. Even in its dreaming sleep
the nightingale warbles. What peculiarly constitutes

M2

222 ADDITIONAL NOTICES.

the charm of this bird, is that it never repeats itself
like other birds — it creates at each burden or passage :
and even if it ever resumes the same, it is always with
new accents and added embellishments." — Griffith's
Cuvier.

THE SONG-THRUSH.

" Here we have one of the most musical of British
birds. He is one of the first harbingers of spring;
and his loud and powerful pipe is always hailed with
pleasure. His song is continued for hours together,
and consists of short passages, each repeated two or
three times. Some of these passages are very fine,
and true to the chromatic scale. The song thrush has
more variety in his notes than any other British bird,
the nightingale not excepted." — Main on British Song
Birds, Magazine Natural History, vol. iv. — 1831.

THE BLACKCAP

" Is the contra-alto singer of the woodland choir. The
fine, varied, joyous song of this emigrant is noticed by
the most listless auditor t the strain occupies about three
bars of triple time in the performance, and though
very frequently repeated, is somewhat varied in every
repetition. He begins with two or three short essays
of double notes, gradually crescendo up to a loud and
full swell of varied expression. One passage often
occurs, as truly enunciated as if performed on an oc-
tave flute. The style and key of the song are nearly the
same in all individuals, though some maybe noticed to
vary in style. I knew one bird that frequented the same

ADDITIONAL NOTICES. 223

spot of a wood for three summers, who signalized him-
self by an arrangement of notes, very much excelling
his brethren around. The blackcap is certainly the
finest singer of the whole tribe of warblers, except
the nightingale . ' '«— Ibid.

THE GOLDEN-CRESTED WHEN.

" The song of this little chorister has been aptly
compared to that of a fairy. It is a short strain, repeated
at short intervals, weak, yet agreeable ; sung inwardly,
and in such a manner, that though the tiny warbler
may be in the nearest bush, the notes seem to come
from a considerable distance. It can only be heard
when near, except in very calm weather. It sings
only in the spring months, and is most frequently
seen in that season among the lower branches of the
fir-trees, where it seeks its food, and every now and
then warbles its fairy strain." — Ibid.

THE WILLOW-WREN.

" This is the smallest of the warblers, except only
the common and golden-crested wrens. Their song
is heard in the thick woods soon after their arrival,
about the 20th of April. It is a soft, pleasant strain,
repeated from time to time, with considerable pauses
between; beginning in a pretty high pitch, (forte,)
diminishing, by slurred gradations, down to lower
tones, scarcely audible. As their chaunt is given in
the full chorus of the woods, and among several others
which sing in the same key, it requires an experienced
ear to catch and identify the song." — Ibid.

224 ADDITIONAL NOTICES.

THE COMMON CHIMNEY-SWALLOW.

'* This, though rather low on the scale of vocalists,
few will deny but that it is amusing to hear, twittering
from his clay-built shed; especially at early dawn.
His song consists of a strain about one minute in con-
tinuance, prettily enough modulated, repeated at in-
tervals, and always ended with a shrill note, rapidly
shaken. He also sings on the wing, in fine weather,
when the hen sits ; seldom after the young are hatch-
ed, nor until they are able to fly. When congregat-
ing on fine evenings, they all join in a joyous, twitter-
ing chorus, in which the young assist. The swallow
is one of the most vigilant videttes for the safety of
the feathered race. No sooner does a hawk, or other
bird or beast of prey come in view, than he raises his
shrill note of alarm, chee, chee; and while almost
all other birds fly to covert, the swallow, dauntless,
mounts aloft to face the foe, menacing and attacking
with fury, till he drives the intruder from the neigh-
bourhood. In this attack, the crow only has the cou-
rage to assist. I have often noticed that the swallows,
on returning home from the pursuit, unite in a song
of gratulatory exultation. None of the other hirun-
dines are musical. The house and sand-martlets have
only faint calls of a note or two ; and the shrill swee-
ree of the swift, can hardly be called a song." — Ibid.

THE SKYLARK.

" This is a justly celebrated bird of song. His
joyous matins and heavenward flight Jiave been aptly

ADDITIONAL NOTICES. 225

compared to hymns and acts of adoration and praise.
No bird sings with more method : there is an over-
ture performed, vivace crescendo, while the singer as-
cends ; when at the full height, the song becomes
moderate, and distinctly divided into short passages,
each repeated three or four times over, like & fantasia,
in the same key and time. If there be any wind, he
rises perpendicularly by bounds, and afterwards
poises himself with breast opposed to it. If calm, he
ascends in spiral circles ; in horizontal circles during
the principal part of his song ; and zig-zagly down-
wards during the performance of the finale. Some-
times, after descending about half way, he ceases to
sing, and drops with the velocity of an arrow to the
ground. Those acquainted with the song of the sky-
lark can tell, without looking at them, whether the
birds be ascending or stationary in the air, or on their
descent ; so different is the style of song in each case.
In the first there is an expression of ardent impa-
tience ; in the second, an andante composure, in which
rests of a bar at a time frequently occur ; and in the
last, a gradual sinking of the strains, often touching
the sub-dominant before the final close. The time
and number of the notes often correspond with the
vibrations of the wings ; and though they sometimes
sing while on the ground, as they are seen to do in
cages, their whole frame seems to be agitated by their
musical efforts." — Ibid.

THE WOODLARK.

" This bird, though it mostly lives and breeds on
the ground, often sits on trees ; hence its specific

226 ADDITIONAL NOTICES.

name. Its song is peculiarly soft and pleasing, con-
sisting of a few passages repeated from time to time,
beginning high in double-slurred notes, and descend-
ing plaintively diminuendo. They sing on the wing ;
but neither rise so high as the skylark, nor sing with
half its power. They differ also from the last in con-
tinuing their song sometimes throughout the night,
especially if two or more are singing together, as if
excited by a kind of rivalry." — Ibid.

THE CUCKOO.

On the question, whether the peculiar cry of
cuckoo is uttered by the male or female bird, Mr.
Main makes some ingenious remarks. Alluding to
the circumstance that the titlark is so often seen fol-
lowing the cuckoo, he observes, " That to watch the
motions of the cuckoo, and drive her away from the
neighbourhood of the titlark's nest, in which she is
especially prone to deposit her eggs, is no doubt the
aim of the little bird; for when on the wing, it is
often seen to dart on the cuckoo, as the swallow does
on the sparrow-hawk." He proceeds to say, " If, as
suggested above, the titlark has any instinctive per-
ception of the imposition intended by the cuckoo,
the object of the small bird's attack must be the fe-
male ; and if the female, then I am certain she sings
the peculiar note ; because I have seen her repeatedly
struck at while singing it." In confirmation of this
opinion, we add a notice which has been obligingly
communicated to us by T. Bosvile, Esq. of Raven-
field Park, Yorkshire. " Often as I hear the note of the
cuckoo, I never before recollect having had one in my

ADDITIONAL NOTICES. 227

hand. My gardener shot one the other day, on a
charge (false, I suspect) of destroying partridge's
eggs. He most positively asserts that it was crying
' cuckoo' when he shot it. The bird was opened,
and two eggs found in her."

THE STORMY PETREL.

Whilst this little work has been 'going through the
press, we have received, from a scientific friend, the
following notice of the inland traveller of the Petrel
race.

" On the 16th of December, 1831, a fine specimen
of the fork-tailed petrel, (Bewick,) procellaria leachii,
(Temne,) was caught by some boys in the neighbour-
hood of Alton, Hants, thirty miles from the sea, much
exhausted. It appeared to have been driven inland
by the prevalence of strong southerly gales, which had
banished it from its native element some days, as it
was very thin, and almost destitute of oil, usually so
abundant in these birds. Its weight one ounce, length
seven inches and three quarters, expanse of wing seven-
teen inches and three quarters. In all respects Bewick's
description is perfectly accurate." — WM. CURTIS.

THE END.

Joseph Rickerby, Printer, 3, Sherboum Lane.