ae eek) : al Bick : : a f [alae SF Bi; B84 1f70 le hy v isio® Samed HE Rive MEMORIAL POULTRY LIBRARY CORNELL Be UNIVERSITY Orne THE GIFT oF RAYMOND PATNO ornell Universit "Tina Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924003004870 CARRIER, FANTAIL, AND FANCY PIGEONS. BEETON’S BOOK OF POULTRY AND DOMESTIC ANIMALS: SHOWING HOW TO REAR AND MANAGE THEM IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH. Aemerous Allnstrations, LONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO. WARWICK HOUSE, ‘DORSET BUILDINGS, oo SQUARE, E.C. Lf SF T/ B4 1870 20364? PREFACE. +o T is an aphorism of Brillat Savarin, the intelligent writer on the pleasures of the palate, that in inviting a person to your house, his comfort and happiness are in your hands so long as he remains under your roof. No Englishman, unless he is undeserving of the hospitable character our nation pos- sesses, will hesitate to indorse the Frenchman’s precept, and carry out with all earnestness the duties of a generous host. The admission made, that we ought to care for the well-being of our vguais who are with us as visitors only, and for a short space of time, it will easily be allowed that to the humbler creatures who are to pass their lives with us, we are bound to be so much the more attentive, kind, and induigent. For no one, upon whose cranium the bump of benevolence asserts itself ever so modestly, will deny that we should be at least as watchful to supply the wants of the little chirping chicken, or the blind kitten, as to see that our human guest has his hot water and slippers at the proper moment. Believing that an acquaintance with the characters of those you entertain is necessary to your fulfilling, with the happiest effect, your devoir as host or keeper, we have, in this volume, not contented ourselves with writing bare instructions as to the practical treatment of the moulting hen or distempered iv VYREFACE. dog. Whilst we have consulted our own. experience, and searched the best authorities on the diseases vf the animals wa have described, we have at the same time given, so to speak, biographical sketches of our furred and feathered friends them selves, with a view of discovering to the keepers of “ Pets” those peculiar instincts which have been noted as characteristio of the genera and species of those creatures which we include amongst our domestic animals, A knowledge of the nature of your pet may often enable you to prevent disease from visiting it, and lengthen the term of life of a faithful and endeared companion. To provide clean and pleasant cottages for the poor is properly considered an object of great importance. Inferior, perhaps, but akin to that subject, is the consicleration of the wise and fit manner to manage the houses and the feeding of the live stock of the hutch, the dormer, the hon bouse, the kennel, the beehive, the equarinz. ANALYSIS OF CONTENTS. THE AQUARIUM. The freshwater, 769; directions for making, 770; Plants for, 772; live stock for, 775; the marine, 789. BEES. The foundress, 707; arrangement of cells, 708; the queen-bee, 709 ; management of, 713; natural ene- mies of, 715; structure of, 718; the humble, 727. THE CAT. Tho wild, 641 ; antiquity of as a home pet, 646 ; origin of the domes- tic, 651; varieties of, 654; stories of remarkable, 657 ; diseases of, and their cure, 669. DOGS. Origin of, 545; varieties of, 553 ; the wild dog, 355; the hunting, 554 ; the Dhole, and the Buansuah, 556 ; the Esquimaux, 559 ; the domestic, 560; Thibet mastiff, 564; Cuban mastiff, 567; English mastiff, 569 ; the bloodhound, 570 ; the staghound, 572; the foxhound, 573; the boar- hound, 574; the Newfoundland, 575 ; the greyhound, 577 ; the harrier, 579 ; the beagle and water spaniel, 580 ; the Labrador spaniel, and Peeler, the dog of the Police, 582; the setter, 584 ; the retriever, 586; the pointer, 587; the King Charles spaniel, 589; the terrier, 590; thr poodle, 593; stories of intelligent dogs, 595; management of puppies, 615 ; how to feed, 617 ; dog-washing, 621; parasites, 622; diseases of, 624; hydrophobia, 626; fits, 628; indigestron, 630; paralysis, 635 ; distemper, 636; laws respecting dogs and dogkeeping, 639. DOMESTIC POULTRY. Their structure, 417 ; their origin in Britain, 420; varieties: their choice and management, 429 ; Ban- tams and Dorkings, 431; black Spanish, and Hamburgs,. 433; Po- lands, and Cochin Chinas, 435; Malays, and Bramahpootras, 487 ; sultans, 439 ; feeding and fattening, 440; a night with the chickens, 445; concerning eggs and chicks, 446; the turkey, 449; the duck,— call-ducks, 457; Aylesbury, 463; Rouen and Buenos Ayres, 464 ; eider duck, 465; geese, 467; diseases of poultry and their cure, 475; swans, 478. DOVES. The turtle, 413 ; the ring, 415; the stock, 416. vi ANALYSIS OF CONTENTS, THE GUINEA PIG. Cage of, 699. THE HARE, Description of, 525; varieties of, 529. THE HEDGEHOG. Character of, 534; habitat of, 538; anecdote of, 540; food of, 542. THE MOUSE, The dormouse, 684 ; the harvest, 689 ; mouse stories, 691; pet mice and their cages, 696. PIGEONS. Structure of birds in relation to their flight, 353; foreign pigeons, 357; the aromatic vinago pigeon, 359 ; the bronze-wing, 361; gather- ing a ‘pigeon crop,” 363; prodi- gious flocks of, 365; the carrier, 367 ; Antwerp carrier, 368; the dove- house, 370; the blue rock, 371; the tumbler, 373; ‘‘short-faced ” tumblers, 376 ; rules for training a flight of, 377 ; the pouter, 379; the runt, 381; the trumpeter, 382; the ‘nun, 383; the archangel, 385; the fantail and jacobite, 387 ; the turbit, 388; the barb, 389; the spot and the helmet, 890; the magpie and Mahomet, 39; ; the laugher, and owl, 392 ; how to train pigeons to fly, 393; the sport of pigeon-flying, ancient and modern, 394; catching in the Pyrenees, 398 ; pigeon-houses, 399; how to stock the, 403; pair- ing and breeding, 404 ; feeding, 408 ; pigeon parasites, 410; diseases of, 411, PONIES, DONKEYS, AND GOATS. The pony, 787; history of, 789; management of, 749; how to tel? the age of, 747 ; shying, 752; the ass, 757 ; anecdote of, 757; food of, 761; the goat, 763; Anecdotes of, 765. THE RABBIT. Description of, 481 ; concerning the hutches, 497 ; varieties of, 504 ; how to stock the hutches, 509: feeding, 519 ; diseases of, and how to cure them, 522; killing, 524, laws respecting rabbit-snaring, 524 THE SILKWORM, ‘Origin of, 730; directions te: keeping, 732. THE SQUIRREL, History of, 673; food of, 67%, THE TORTOISE, Description of, 702, LIST OF COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS, FROM DESIGNS BY HARRISON WEIR, R. HUITULA, AND F, W. KEYL.. PRINTED FACSIMILE BY C. LEIGHTON AND W, DICKES, COMMON, ANGORA, AND LOP-EARED RABBITS .......s.cssssesveveeee Lage 481 PET PONIES, A SKETCH FROM NATURE,......csscesccsessenseeceeeneeneenens . 737 SKYE TERRIER, FRENCH POODLE, SPANIELS, ITALIAN GREYHOUND, AND PUG DOGS ...... que ve eMousasenoudeunaamses priseachdesaenesstiaeesecae DAD . WHITE DORKING, GAME BANTAM, DECOY DUCK, AND SILVER-LACED seavee 417 BANTAM ...... YELLOW TURBIT, RED JACOBINE, CARRIER, AND FANTAIL PIGEONS 353 LIST OF WOODCUTS, FROM DESIGNS BY HARRISON WEIR, BR. HUTTULA, AND OTHBE EMINENT ARTISTS. ENGRAVED BY H, N. WOODS AND W. M. RB. QUICK, ——tOt-uen ANGORA RABBIT, THE ..secs ee cecceeccceccccscncssesesee Page 508 ARRANGEMENT OF CELLS IN BEN-HIVE.... cc cc secs cesceecesees 108 AYLESBURY DUCKS .. 2... ce cc cece ee eee cette ee ee ee ec etcn es 463 BARB PIGEONS 4 sccssscseneweniarewswaseis asevowurerweecan 890) BURIAIVES awa rides daccinescde snide seins saan ne Kel Mkwaaswsues wae ALL BELLIGERENT GAT, THE sxvcvawe vane oe ie uy Oa te eae big oe eee O71 BLACK (BANTAM) ceiucssssrs wiwoaeaata se danger in ti Meas OE seis Sew, AOE BLACK SPANISH FOWLS sw xesesnaeae se $0 ia02 199485 esd sadeoe S80 BLOODHOUND), DHE is.:52i:'sie sie oie.'sinig ie sn elo ay ve Deapeeis ee ckae DIO BLUE ‘ROCK PICHON i. 303.0 06.6% wide occcecuiee salen se aenvievecene OFL BOATMAN, THE .5cccccccscoscenes cece rcetssesseeseeeserares LOO BOW- BILL) DUOKS eeiciesin sis oie Sic eeciw ie vie ede nee slewsseeieganee ELF BUENOS AYRES DUCKS.....csccossscencreccscossccscsssseves 464 BULL-DOG, THE... cc cccccc cece cece cc ceseesssceeteseesverse SOR GALL: DUCES: sjaccramscgaressaieariuiluveurecesiueiankerrariiens comeneearew seee BOT CARRIER PIGEON, THE... cc cece necce sete cect tree eeeeteeseees SOG OAT, THE ve ue resi es anes desea aeed or eb sk es Vokes eee SS. «. 641 CAT PREPARING TO FIGHT ..cceeae cece et cree ce sete atet cece «. 657 CHAMOIS. Give Se ox dese vee Oe wh eee Gee Tee Cee ete deed ec ee FES COCHIN: CHINAS 6's e'siu5te sedianoe Moka e Tea ee eeenwetea caate ama AEF COMBAT BETWEEN WASP AND SPIDER ....ce cece ee eeeeeceeeees G19 TUNG aie pees abc od Gta ase ae closet ete Rate See oes rere ere ore prateereeendepa dig OO CROWNED GOURA PIGEON... ceceescesecsecesseesvctsceeesssees B00 OVGNET 4 Scie a WE 00 ow sw6 8 06 dee sae diva die se Oe Oe a Oe ey ew ATE DALMATIAN DOG, THE cece ccancccccecrccsccncvessvevescveses Gad x LIST OF WOODOUTS ' DINGO, THE 2.0... cece scence ccceenececeserencscnessces Page 558 DOGS: AD BUA. cords ) shehiciais aye, shares oy siasehareiarstiv Acosareiere: tO oveuraa@e nse OO DOG SCENTING GAME scsiwcecsvawseccasewsvawevevecteasease O17 DOG ssp cineca besathce hintaie feisralsip nels tales ete soe eee rare we eG IOSD DOMESTIO2D0G;, WHE... oaccc-0d fea wb. eRO WR ow eee ede ee BOL DOMESTIC POULTRY ..cesceseesecesceereseeesccesesseesscese 417 DORKINGS, giwis dive vis Wan eddie weoasiod aAaaaweieassane tasaeenma SOL DOVES .....06. sNistlanetaaetels/ahe fale, Ge ein Ma whee ate SES wesce B18 see 469 oe. 569 ana OOD. «.. 887 we. 447 sae. FOF .. 513 . 573 . 787 . 429 CODE SiGh is as av a8 ee drew ans ~ F69 GREYHOUND; MER. ceux wewnsaxvaeye vexeeoudwexemwnsrs vie “BIT GROUND PLAN OF RABBIT-PIT 489 GROUP OF DOGS ........ 0.68. P ctirenyaaiaera nue aiat . 545 QUINEA-FOWLS ...... Beans varsgeeacegy 280 QUINEA-PIG, THE ....... boc - 698 HARMLESS WATER-BEETLE, THE.......- singaenny TOd HEDGEHOG’S CHOICEST PREY, THE....... .. 544 WRU BOMBER. cc daqevu paseren ducsleucs «. 787 HIMALAYA RABBIT ....eeeeeeeee Pee eee en eee - 518 ‘HINDER LEG OF WORKING BEE, MAGNIFIED.............eeeeee5 721 HORSES FRIGHTENED BY FIRE 2.0... ..eeceeeeeescecuceccvces 737 HORSE-HUNTING, IN THE WILDERNESS ...... jomouminncccen 138 HUBER BRACELET, THE ...... see ee en eens Ananbergpavarnlinaneuneie SOLS HUBER, THE BLIND NATURALIST ........0.5 iivoterewenss £05 HUMBLE BEE, THE 2... ce ccecceneeceeaees a auibianavauahaneawigleiee “FOS HUNTER AND H@UND, THE............ cieccasce 614 JACOBIN PIGEONS........ ERs sees 888 KING CHARLES SPANIEL . siwaconas O89 PEUTUGH). DEB sic gi Ga ea eieiscsos doe: irene ie al Winns nana atoratoganlnieah pater De EMDEN GEESE ....seeeeeees ENGLISH MASTIFF, THE ..... ESQUIMAUX DOG, THE... FANTAIL PIGEONS .. wees cece svccace FEATHER-LEGGED BANTAMS ....... FOUNDRESS BEE, THE ......-. ee ees FOX AND RABBIT....... FOXHOUND, THE ...... FRESH-WATER WHELK, THE GAMES FOWLS.. cece ce we eene List oF WooDoUTS, xi LOP-EARED RABBIT ......cecceccseeceeeseesoeoesr ais « Page BNG MAGNIFIOENT PIGEON, THE...... cesses ee cseesceensote ss cee, BBE MAGNIFIED STING OF BEB ...... ce cess econ es ee ccue sen sees 120 MALTBSE DOG). THE os sé 6 oe cs cease nee ce eeae secirents caer 628 MARINE AQUARIUM, THE .... csc ceseseencececvccgeseranre ss 189 MESS 54.6 vase aan oe wea dle sha See Mts Sie oe Bede ad Goes epimeceny S94 MICH cia ciicieaiad steer ewe wee Rea Ge wnreipasine wae areveie aw Se wie OOD MOUNT ST, BERNARD MASTIFF, THE ......e0-eseeessceceeesese 609 MULBERRY, THE .........05 ayaa ay Grav aversretethiaja aha. dia. aie teelewiow ees POO, NEWFOUNDLAND DOG, THE .. cs ce ceccacscsceececcscesee + O01, 575 NON (BIGHONS igs yaloseu are are nave ones Yakasraeaeahinadntie pee ged O84 OLD-FASHIONED RABBIT-HUTCH .. OWL PIGEONS .... OYSTER, THE...--....00- cece PENCILLED HAMBURGS........-0s0005 PIGEON-CATCHING IN THE PYRENEES ...... POET'S PETS, THE. ..........- Udita tis auerdieiniese winauamagieeienearees DAD POINTER: TE) «5.6 giesareisui ar svate aavseanias aomentus cmnsuetewl@ erage Seigisiediaey OST POMERANIAN DOG, THE ..yccseccccecsecasecaccecvoasecoress Oi POODLE), THE ccs seam eomergee i tatiiae oe sioweisenss DOS POUTER PIGEON, THE ...c cece eves cccccceccsecascsserensedas OID PUPPIES po sist siahash a isi ipa es ried oats mieaiieebieseayeceg ONG QUEEN BER; THE) ic eiecidie sees Seew de WER Oe wiaek Minas eee 00 BABBITS........ naa as Yous ta titerdo te ywlanté wiTELa TOONS Wieia end wieledesieayeness “LOK BING-DOVE, THE wc. .cccceccencsceventnsa rtasceccseccccesee 415 ROUEN DUCKS ........es00-- BRUNT PIGEONS 2... cc ccceceneceece SEBRIGHT BANTAMS .. rr PEPPERS THE sce sian aes igiaseie. gs siavete ie SHEEP-DOG, THE ...... 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SQUIRREL, THE se ee cece eens ce cees cece senesceseeseeseses Page 673 BTAGHOUND, THE .. cc ce sc ccccceeceeccenseceesseceeeaveseees OTA SULTANS wincisavconasianenoaneoe nese GeeeSF iv ee terere ene ene ABD SYPHON) PHE disinsiision aoses seeteeedereeasuenracaiasacce JOS TENCH,, THE cess caewtnccasiavise eee 6 8Ss a0 40 T8 7&8 TERRIER, THE sa cosaweas veins sees de sees eee s ee 591 TOP OF RABBIT-PIT ......0eeceseneceeees 496 TORTOISE, THE .... 000005 700 TRUMPETER PIGEONS ... 384 TRUMPET-SNAIL, THE ... 784 TUMBLER PIGEONS ..ccccscecsececncecacceenssescsccsaverse Old TURBIT PIGEONS: v4 id sa ch dev aeewe eee ernwedsavederereneseces BBE PUREBY, THEA. ss os goec ste hae 40 5 SG cewaesdadewsaasnaewane te EE WATER-BEETLE, THE... .. sees eseeee seer ccerscecsescssereces 104 WATER-SPANIEL, THE oo cecececscceeteesescceceesscncssscecs 58] WATER-SPIDER, THE.........005 VELA cite. on gsbitas er aia vie gts: CAN RAG SRY os te sane wia. Oe sal Stole ioarere awe: OBE WILD DUCKS s secs se ivei ve sdiwiwaawe eae ce ea ew eeoe voles sees 4D WILD HORSES AND WILD RIDERS .. 75( WILD RABBITS oe. Se Oasis ewe ee 50: BERRAS ......... 76: THE CROWNED GOURA PIGEON. PIGEONS. 10 STRUCTURE OF BIRDS IN RELATION TO THEIR FLIGHT, It may not be out of place here to offer a few remarks on the wonderful mechanism which enables birds to wing their course so rapidly through the air. The feathers are so placed as to overlap each other, like the slates or the tiles on the roof of a house. They are also arranged from the fore-part back- wards; by which the animals are enabled the more conve- niently to cut their way through the air. Their bones are tubular or hollow, and extremely light compared with those of terrestrial animals. This greatly facilitates their rising from the earth, whilst their heads, being comparatively small, their bills shaped like a wedge, their bodies slender, sharp below, and round above,—all these present a union-of conditions, favourable, in every way, to cutting a passage through the aérial element, to which they are considered as more peculiarly to belong. With all these conditions, however, birds could not fly without wings. These, therefore, are the instru- ments by which they have the power of rapid locomotion, and 1 PIGEONS. are constructed in such a manner as to be capable of great expansion when struck in a downward direction. If we except, in this action, the slight hollow which takes place on the under-side, they become almost two planes. In order that the downward action may be accomplished to the necessary extent, the muscles which move the wings have been made exceedingly large; so large, indeed, that, in some instances, they have been estimated at not less than a sixth of the weight of the whole body. Therefore, when a bird is on the ground and intends to fly, it takes a leap, and immediately stretching its wings, strikes them out with great force. By this act these are brought into an oblique direction, being turned partly upwards and partly horizontally forwards. That part of the force which has the upward tendency is neutralized by the weight of the bird, whilst the horizontal force serves to carry it forward. The stroke being completed, it moves upon its wings, which, being contracted and having their edges turned. upwards, obviate, in a great measure, the resistance of the air. When it is sufficiently elevated, it makes a second stroke downwards, and the impulse of the air again moves it for- ward. These successive strokes may be regarded as so many leaps taken in the air. When the bird desires to direct its course to the right or the left, it strikes strongly with the opposite wing, which impels it to the proper side. In the motions of the animal, too, the tail takes a prominent part, and acts like the rudder of a ship, except that, instead of sideways, it moves upwards and downwards. If the bird wishes to rise, it raises its tail; and if to fall, it depresses it; and, whilst in a horizontal position, it keeps it steady. There are few who have not observed a pigeon or a crow preserve, for some time, a horizontal flight without any apparent motion of the wings. This is accomplished by the bird having already acquired sufficient velocity, and its wings being parallel to the horizon, meeting, with but small resistance from the atmo- sphere. If it begins to fall, it can easily steer itself upward by means of its tail, till the motion it had acquired is nearly spent, when it must be renewed by a few more strokes of the wings. On alighting, a bird expands its wings and tail fully against the air, as a ship, in tacking round, backs her sails, in order thati they may meet with all the resistance possible. “ The anterior extremities of birds,” says Macegillivray, “ are modified so as to render them subservient to aérial progression. ‘They are converted into wings by having appended to them a STRUCTURE OF BIRDS. series of long stiff feathers, variously proportioned, according to the kind of flight required by the species. This adaptation of the form and structure of birds to flying, or progression in the air, is obvious and intelligible. Their body is oval, with the larger end forwards, and the more powerful muscles placed on the breast, so that when the horizontal direction is assumed, the centre of gravity comes between the wings, and is kept near the lower part by the weight of the pectoral muscles, The length and flexibility of the neck enable the bird to make the necessary changes in the centre of gravity, while the solidity of the dorsal spine gives advantage to the action of the muscles ; the head is terminated by a pointed bill, which aids in cleaving the air; the feet, when short, are drawn up and concealed under the feathers; when long, stretched out beneath or beyond the tail, which is more or less expanded, and helps to support the body in the air, as well as, by acting in the manner of a rudder, to change its direction, or, by being stretched out, to break its descent. In proportion to their bulk, birds are also much lighter than other vertebrate animals, and their lightness is produced by the introduction of air into their tissue, and even into the bones, as well as by the great bulk of the feathers, which, in those having a very buoyant flight, as owls and gulls, is much greater than that of the body. “ When a bird intends to fly, it loosens its wings from their ordinary position, throws its body forward, and gives it a sudden impulse by means of the legs, which would merely produce a leap, but the wings, being in the meantime spread out and elevated, they are again brought down with force, so that their points generally strike against the ground.’ Whether or not, they act as levers, and, by repeated strokes, carry the bird upwards. Were its ascent vertical, the rapid action of the wings in the same plane would suffice to raise it, provided the downward stroke “were much more powerful than the upward, the wing, moreover, being drawn in during the latter, and stretched out during the former. But, for progression in a horizontal direction, it is necessary that the downward stroke should be modified by the elevation, in a certain degree, of the free extremities of the quills, and that the pinion should be pulled backwards. The best subject in which to study the motions of the wings during flight is one of the larger gulls, in which the wings being very long and the flight remarkably buoyant, and performed by slow beats, one may inace their ’ PIGEONS. alternations with ease, provided he be near enough; the wings are never extended to their full length, the elbow-joint bemg always more or less bent, and the hand or pinion always inclined backwards.” Of a feather’s lightness, we may form some idea, when we find that the largest quill of a golden eagle weighs only sixty- five grains, and that seven such quills barely turn the beam against a copper penny. The feathers of a common fowl, weighing more than two pounds, weigh only two ounces; and the whole of an owl’s plumage weighs but one ounce and a half. “ Meant, as they are,” says Bishop Stanley, “ some for covering and some for strength, we shall find them, on exami- nation, very differently put together. The light downy part, when examined through a microscope, will be found to bear little resemblance to the flat part, or blade of the quill. IEf it. were not so, a bird would scarcely be able to fly at all; for when the flat of the wing was pressed down, the air would pass through it, yielding little or no resistance. The fibres of the downy parts have, we see, little connection with each other; they have short and loose side shoots, just sufficient ‘to meet them together when pressed close to the skin; whereas the side shoots of the quill-feather hook and grapple with one another, so as to make one firm and united surface. It is clear, that if water could soak into the soft feathery covering of a bird, every shower of rain would be the death of thou- sands; inasmuch as it would increase their weight considerably, and at the same time, by destroying the fine elastic nature of the feathers, entirely disable them from flying, and they must remain in a helpless state upon the ground, either to perish through hunger or become the prey to men or animals, who would catch them without trouble.” The air bones in young birds are described as being filled with marrow, which becomes gradually absorbed, to make room for the admission of air. This gradual expansion of the air-cells and absorption of the marrow can nowhere be observed so well as in young tame geese, when killed in different periods of the autumn and winter. The limits to the air-cells may be clearly seen without, from the transparency of the bony walls. From week to week the marrow disappears, and the air-vessels increase in size, till, towards the close of the season, they become transparent. “To give some idea of the duration and continuity of motion in birds,” says an English naturalist, “ and likewise t FOREIGN PIGEONS. of the proportion of time and space which their courses occupy, their swiftness has been often compared with that of quadru- peds in their great progressions, whether natural or forced. The stag, the reindeer, and the elk, can traverse forty leagues in a single day; the reindeer, harnessed to a sledge, can make a journey of thirty leagues, and can continue so for many days in succes- sion; the camel can travel three, hundred leagues in eight days; the horse, trained for the race, and chosen from among the lightest and most vigorous, can perform a league in six or seven minutes; but his speed soon relaxes, and he would be incapable of supporting a longer career with the spirit and celerity with which he set out. But the swiftness of birds is considerably greater than that of such animals. In less than three minutes we lose sight of a large bird; of a kite, for example, which proceeds horizontally, or an eagle, which flies vertically, and the diameter of whose extent on the wing is more than four feet. From this we may infer that the bird traverses more than a space of four thousand five hundred feet in a minute, and that he can fly twenty leagues in an hour. Pietro della Valle says, that in Persia the carrier pigeon makes greater way in one day than the swiftest human runner can in six,” ; FOREIGN PIGEONS. The Columbide, or pigeon family, are distinguished from the poultry and the gallinaceous birds in general by the pos- session of certain peculiarities, of which the following may be said to be the chief:—Bill arched towards the tip, and with a convex swelling at the base, caused by a sort of gristly patch, which covers the nostrils, and which, in some species, is curi- ously developed. Again, nearly all the gallinaceous birds are polygamous, and lay a great number of eggs each time they incubate, which, in the temperate zones, is rarely more than twice a year, while the true pigeons lay only two eggs each time and incubate frequently during the year. Finally, in the yallinaceous birds, the hind toe is articulated on the tarsus higher than the others, and only touches the ground with its claws; whereas, the pigeons possess a ‘posterior toe, upon the same plan as the anterior toe, touching the ground throughout its length in walking and embracing the perch when the bird is at roost. The distribution of the pigeon family is very SmrennaYES the PIGEONS. form recurring, indeed, almost all over the world, except. within the frigid zones. We will open the list with the largest and most unpigeon-like of the tribe, the Crowned Goura Pigeon, found in the Indian archipelago and most of the Mollucca Islands. From head to tail, this bird measures nearly two and a half feet. Its beak, which is two inches long, is black, and its head surmounted by a large semicircular compressed crest of narrow straight feathers, of a delicate light blue colour. Light blue, or rather grey-blue, marks the under part of the bird’s plumage. The feathers of the back, scapulars, and smaller wing-coverts, black at the base, and rich purple-brown at the tips; greater coverts of the same colour, but barred with white in the centre, so that, when the wings are closed, a single transverse band appears across them. It builds its nest in trees, lays two eggs, and feeds chiefly on berries and seeds. Its flesh ig said to be of excellent flavour. Speaking of the splendid specimens of this bird to be seen in the Zoological Gardens, J. G. Wood says, “ Their walk is quite of a royal character—stately and majestic, and well according with the beautiful feathered crown they wear on their heads. The crest seems to be always held expanded. They have a quaint habit of sunning themselves upon the hot pavement of their prison, by lying on one side, laying the head flat on the ground, tucking the lower wing over them, and ‘spreading the other over their bodies, so as to form a very shallow tent, each quill feather being separated from its neigh- bour and radiating round the body. Sometimes the bird varies this attitude, by stretching the other wing to its full extent, and holding it from the ground at an angle of 20 degrees or so, as if to take advantage of every sunbeam and every waft of air. While lying in this unique attitude, it might easily pass, at a little distance, for a moss-covered stone, a heap of withered leaves, or a ragged tree-stump, with one broken branch pro- jecting to the side.” They are easily tamed, and in the Hast Indies are fre- quently kept in the farmyard, among the ducks and geese. They have all the habits of the common little pigeon, and bill and coo like the most ordinary “runt.” The cooing, however, is a trifle more violent than that of the English species. Indeed, M. Bougainville relates that his sailors were greatly alarmed on hearing it, for the first time, in the wild and unfrequented spots of some of the islands visitéd by him, apprehending that the mysterious sounds proceeded from tribes THE AROMATIC VINAGO PIGEON. of lurking savages lying in ambush, presently to fall on and devour them. Although of smaller size, the Nicobar pigeon is equally curious, and worthy of description as the stately Goura, king of pigeons, by virtue of his crown as well as his bulk. The Nicobar is a native of the island of that name, as well as of the isles of Java and Sumatra. It is about fifteen inches in length, its beak about an inch and a quarter in length, and slightly bent downward at the tip. Its head is slaty blue, with a purplish cast, and adorning its neck and breast are a profusion of long pointed feathers, glowing with resplendent green, bronze, and slaty blue. These long feathers are much like the hackles of the game-cock; and as the light falls on them, their colours. come and go, and glow with orange and copper colour and gorgeous purple in a way impossible to describe. The back of the bird, indeed the whole of its upper surface, is glowing green, with bronze and steel-blue reflections ; the tail is short and square, and pure white. Authors differ about the habits of this bird. Some assert that its nest is placed on the ground, and that the female lays several eggs, the young running as soon as hatched; but Mr. Bennet, who saw some in an aviary at Macao, says ‘that they were usually seen perched on trees, even upon the loftiest branches; and adds, that they build their rude nests and rear their young upon trees, similar to all the pigeon tribe. ‘We will next describe a beautiful member of this family, known by the somewhat singular title of Aromatic Vinago. It is an inhabitant of India, Java, and other adjacent islands. It is a bird of mild and timid disposition, and is generally seen in large companies, except during the period of reproduction, when they pair, and retire to the depths of the forest. The back of the aromatic vinago and a part of the lesser wing- coverts are of a rich brownish-red, “ shot,” as the modern term is, with purple; the forehead is of a bright siskin green, the crown greenish grey, the throat rich yellow, and the under parts faint green. The greater wing-coverts and secondary quills are greenish black, with a vivid yellow edging through- out their entire length; the tail is a blending of blue-grey and brown, and white and green. In Selby’s description of this bird we read :—‘ This beautiful bird has brilliant red eyes, the feet are something like the parrot’s, and it climbs in the same way as that bird. It is very difficult to find; for, although a flock is marked into a tree, yet its colour is so similar to the leaf of 359 PIGEONS. the banyan (on the small red fig of which it feeds), that if a bird does not move you may look for many minutes before you see one, although there may be fifty in the tree.” There is a pigeon found in the Mollucca and Pacific Islands, which, though not of very splendid appearance, has attractions of a far more substantial nature. Jt is the Carunculated Ground Pigeon, or the “ Oceanic Fruit Pigeon,” as it is sometimes called. In size it about equals the-common turtle, but is a bulkier bird. ‘The base of the bill and forehead is covered with a naked red skin, and the chin bears a good-sized wattle, which turns upwards on each side towards the ears. The head, cheeks, neck, and breast, are of a purplish grey, and the remainder of the plumage dingy grey, margined with white. In a natural history of birds, of some repute, we find the following singular notice of the ground pigeon :—* These birds inhabit the forests of the Molluccas, Celebes, Australia, and the Pacific islands. Their food consists of fruit and berries. That of the precious nutmeg, or rather of its soft covering, known to us by the name of mace, affords, at certain seasons, a favourable repast to some species; and upon this luxurious diet they become so loaded with fat, as frequently, when shot, to burst asunder when they fall to the ground. And here we may observe the remarkable provision nature has made for the propagation as well as dissemination of this valuable spice; for the: nutmeg itself, which is generally swallowed with the whole of its pulpy covering, passes uninjured through the digestive organs of the birds, and is thus dispersed through the group of the Molluccas and other islands of the East. Indeed, from repeated experiments, it appears that an artificial prepa- ration, analogous to that which it undergoes in its passage through the bird, is necessary to insure the growth and fertility of the nut; and it was not till after many unsuccessful attempts had been made, that a lixivium of lime, in which the nuts were steeped for a certain time, was found to have the wished-for effect, and to induce the germinating tendency.” The Topknot Pigeon is another of the handsome Columbide. It isa native of Southern and Eastern Australia, and is most plentifully found in the bushes of the Ilawarra and Hunter rivers. It is about seventeen inches long, and, as its powerful feet and general structure betoken, is a tree dweller, and of the loftiest pretensions; for it is seldom or never seen to make its nest except in the topmost branches. Its prevailing colour is silver-grey; its eyes are orange colour, ringed with crimson ; 360 THE BRONZE-WING PIGEON, the base of its bill is blue, and the tip red; its feet are purple. Its wings, which are long and powerful, are edged with black, and its tail has a broad black band crossing its centra, and the extremities of the feathers marked with the same colour. Its chief characteristic, however, is a curious crest that surmounts its head. The possession of an occipital crest is nothing uncommon; but this bird has, in addition, a fore- head-crest, composed of long soft feathers, of a silver-grey colour, while the crest on the back of the head is russet. The Bronze-wing Pigeon of Australia is another “ foreigner ” worthy of special mention. It is about fifteen inches long. In colour, the forehead is buff, the head is dark brown, changing to deep plum colour at the sides; the sides of the neck are grey, and there is a white waved line under the eye, and running partly down the chin; the upper surface is dark brown; the coverts are marked with bronze-green spots, and the tertiaries have a large oblong shining green spot, edged with buff; the two central feathers are brown, and the rest grey, banded with black near the tip; the breast is purple-brown, fading into grey on the abdomen; the eyes are reddish-brown, and the legs and feet crimson. The bronze-wing is a great water-drinker, and, by reason of this, is often of incalculable service to the Australian traveller, in showing’ the way to springs and water- holes. Mr. Gould says, “ With a knowledge of the habits of this bird, the weary traveller may always perceive when he is in the vicinity of water; and, however arid the appearance of the country may be, if he observes the bronze-wing wending its way from all quarters to a given point, he may be certain to procure a supply of food and water. When rain has fallen in abundance, and the rivers and lagoons are filled, not only to the brim, but overflowing and spread over the surface of the surround- ing country, the case is materially altered; then the bronze- wing and many other birds are not so easily procured, the abundant supply of the element so requisite to their existence rendering it no longer necessary that they should brave every danger in procuring it.” ‘The same clever and interesting author and naturalist relates, that in the droughty summer of 1839-40, when encamped at the northern extremity of the Brezi range, his tent was pitched near a sort of natural basin in the rock, and which still contained a scanty quantity of water from last season’s rains; this water, the natives assured Mr. Gould, was the only supply for several miles round, and so the traveller speedily found; for in the evening, and despite PIGEONS. the presence of a body of men with their clamour and cooking- fires and undisguised hostile intentions, flocks of timid birds, including the bronze-wing, came boldty to the water, all their natural apprehensions blunted by torturing thirst. The Magnificent Pigeon is deserving of his name. Whatdo my readers think of a pigeon of the following description :— “In size it equals or rather surpasses the common ring-pigeon ; the tail being longer in proportion. The bill, which is rather slen- der, has the soft or membranous part of a brownish orange; the horny top, which is yellowish white, is slightly arched, but hard and compressed. ‘The head,,the cheeks, and the upper part of the neck are of a fine pale bluish grey, which passes into pale green towards the lower part of the neck and back. The upper parts of the body are of a rich golden green, assuming various shades of intensity as viewed in different lights; the wing- coverts are spotted with rich king’s yellow, forming an oblique bar across the wings. The quills and tail are of the richest shining green, changing in effect with every motion of the bird. From the chin downwards proceeds a streak of the finest aricula purple (the base of the feathers being of a deep sapphire green) ; this line gradually expands as it descends, and covers the whole breast and abdomen. The lower belly, thighs, and under wing- coverts are of the richest king’s yellow. The feet are bluish black, the tarse short, and clothed with yellow feathers half way down their front and sides.” The Magnificent pigeon is found only in Australia, where it lives in trees, and subsists on fruit and seeds. We now come to a “foreigner” more resembling in shape, size, and colour that with which we are acquainted than any other —the Passenger-pigeon of North America. Through- out those regions it is enormously abundant, and is remark- able for its migration in immense flocks from one part of the United States to another. Their arrival at their roosting- places is eagerly watched for by the inhabitants, who anxiously look out for their coming; and no wonder, as the following ha of the gathering of a “:pigeon-crop,” by Wilson, will shOW :— “As soon as the young were fully grown, and before they left the nest, numerous parties of the inhabitants from all parts of the adjacent country came with waggons, axes, beds, and cooking utensils; many of them accompanied by the greater part of their families, and encamped for several days at this immense DUEBErY. Several of them stated that the noise was . GATHERING OF 4 “ PIGEON-CROP.” so. great as to terrify their horses, and that it was difficult for any .person to hear another speak withont bawling in his ear. The ground was strewed with broken limbs of trees, eggs, and young squab pigeons, which had been precipitated from above, and on which herds of hogs were fattening. Hawks, buzzards, and eagles were sailing about and seizing the squabs from the nests at pleasure; while from twenty feet upward to the top of the trees the view through the woods presented a perpetual tumult of crowding and fluttering multitudes of pigeons, their wings roaring like thunder, mingled with the frequent crash of falling timber; for now the axemen were at work cutting down those trees that seemed to be most crowded with nests, and contriving to fell them in such a manner that in their descent they might bring down several others; by which means the falling one large tree sometimes produced two hundred squabs little inferior in size to the old ones, and almost one heap of fat. On some single trees upwards of one hundred nests were found, each containing one squab only. It was dangerous to walk under these flying and fluttering millions, from the frequent fall of large branches, broken down by the weight of the multitudes above, and which in their descent often destroyed numbers of the birds themselves ;. whilst the clothes of those engaged in traversing the woods were completely covered with the excrements of the pigeons.” Audubon gives the following animated description of one of these nocturnal battwes :—“'The sun,” he says, “was lost to our view, yet nota pigeon had arrived; but, suddenly, there burst forth a general cry of, ‘Here they come!’ The noise which they made, though yet distant, reminded me of a hard gale at sea passing through the rigging of a close-reefed vessel. As the birds arrived and passed over me, I felt a current of air that surprised me. Thousands were soon knocked down by the men provided with poles. The current of birds, how- ever, kept still increasing. The fires were lighted, and a most magnificent, as well as a wonderful and terrifying sight, pre- sented itself. The pigeons, coming in by thousands, alighted everywhere, one above another, until solid masses of them, resembling hanging swarms of bees, as large as hogsheads, were formed on every tree, in all directions. Here and there the perches gave way under the weight with a crash, and, fall- ing to the ground, destroyed hundreds of birds beneath, forcing down the dense groups with which every stick was loaded. It was a scene of uproar and confusion. I found it ate useless PIGEONS. to speak, or even to shout, to those persons nearest me. The reports even of the nearest guns were seldom heard, and I knew only of the firing by seeing the shooters reloading. No person dared venture within the line of devastation; the hogs had been penned up in due time, the picking up of the dead and wounded being left for the next morning’s employment. Still the pigeons were constantly coming, and it was past midnight before I perceived a decrease in the number of those that arrived. The. uproar continued, however, the whole night; and, as I was anxious to know to what distance the sound reached, I sent off a man accustomed to perambulate the forest, who, returning two hours afterwards, informed me he had heard it distinctly when three miles from the spot.” Towards daybreak, according to the same authority, the pigeons again move off, and various nocturnal beasts of prey are seen sneaking away from the ground, where they have ~found a plentiful and accessible meal; the human devastators then go in to collect their share of the plunder, and when they have selected all that they have occasion for, the hogs are let loose to feed upon the remainder. “Tt is extremely interesting,” says the above quoted author- ity, “to see flock after flock performing exactly the same evo- lutions which had been traced in the air, as it were, by a preceding flock. Thus, should a hawk have charged on a group at a certain spot, the angles, curves, and undulations that have been described by the birds in their efforts to escape from the dreaded talons of the plunderer, are undeviatingly followed by the next group that comes up.” The accounts of the prodigious numbers in which these pigeons assemble would be open to doubt were they not made by naturalists of the highest note. For instance, if less an authority than Wilson narrated the following it would cer- tainly have been voted an “Americanism.” “I passed for several miles through the same breeding place, where every tree was spotted with nests, the remains of those above de- scribed. In many instances, I counted upwards of ninety nests on a single tree; but the pigeons had abandoned this place for another, sixty or eighty miles off, toward Green River, where they were said at that time to be equally nume- rous. From the great numbers that were constantly passing over our heads to and from that quarter, I had no doubt of the truth of this statement. The mast had been chiefly consumed in Kentnoky ; and the pigeons every morning a little before PRODIGIOUS FLOCKS OF PIGEONS. sunrise set out for the Indiana territory, the nearest part of which was about sixty miles distant. Many of these returned before ten o’clock, and the great body generally appeared on their return a little after noon. I had left the public road to visit the remains of the breeding-place near Shelbyville, and was traversing the woods with my gun on my way to Frank- fort, when, about ten o’clock, the pigeons which I had observed flying the greater part of the morning northerly, began to return in such immense numbers as I never before had wit- nessed. “ Coming to an opening by the side of a creek called the Benson, where I had a more uninterrupted view, I was astonished at their appearance; they were flying with great steadiness and rapidity, at a height beyond gun-shot, in several strata deep, and so close together that, could shot have reached them, one discharge could not have failed of bringing down several individuals. From right to left, as far as the eye could reach, the breadth of this vast procession extended, seeming everywhere equally crowded. Curious to determine how long this appearance would continue, I took out my watch to note the time, and sat down to observe them. It was then half- past one; I sat for more than an hour, but, instead of a dimi- nution of this prodigious procession, it seemed rather to increase both in numbers and rapidity ; and anxious to reach Frankfort before night, I rose and went on. About four o’clock in the afternoon I crossed Kentucky river, at the town of Frankfort, at which time the living torrent above my head seemed as numerous and asextensive as ever. Long after this I observed them in large bodies, that continued to pass for six or eight minutes, and these again were followed by other detached bodies, all moving in the same south-east direction till after six in the evening. The great breadth of front which this mighty multitude preserved, would seem to intimate a corre- sponding breadth of their breeding-place, which, by several gentlemen, who had lately passed through part of it, was stated to me at several miles.” Wilson then enters into a rough calculation of the numbers of this mass, and he comes to the conclusion, that its whole length was 240 miles, and that the numbers composing it amounted to 2,280,272,000 pigeons, observing, that this is probably far below the actual amount. He adds, that allowing each pigeon to consume half a pint of food daily, the whole quantity would equal 17,424,000 bushels daily. Audubon confirms Wilson in 36! PIGEONS. every point, excepting when he states that a smgle egg only is laid. Audubon insists, that the bird lays two eggs of a pure white, and that each brood generally consists of a male and female. DOMESTIC PIGEONS. THE CARRIER. The carrier pigeon occupies, as he ought, the highest place among the domestic columbide. With the exception, perhaps, of the “blue rack,” or, more properly, the dove-house pigeon, no domestic fowl can be traced to such antiquity. Long before Rome became a mighty city the carrier was a “home pet;” and at the celebration of the Olym- pian games this bird was fre- quently employed to carry to CARRIER PIGEON. distant parts the names of the victors. During the “ Holy War,” when Acre was besieged by King Richard, Saladin habitually corresponded with the besieged by means of carrier pigeons. A shaft from an English crossbow, however, happened to bring one of these feathered messengers to the ground, and the stratagem being discovered and the designs of the mighty pagan monarch revealed, the tables were turned and Acre was in the hands of the besiegers before the wily Saladin dreamed of such a thing. The carrier is rather larger than the general run of pigeons, Most writers consider them as descendants from the Persian or Turkish variety. Their form is, however, much altered from those birds, and it is believed to be owing to an admixture with the Egyptian variety known as Bagdads, Scandaroons, or Horsemen, and from which cross they, in all probability, obtain the long beak considered so great a point in this breed, while the true Turkish or Persian is not remarkable for the length of this member; that the Turkish and Egyptian varieties have ‘been much confused; and that from their mixture, with careful oe this breed has been produced, there can he little oubt. To be thorough-bred the carrier should possess the “twelve THE CARRIER PIGEON. points,” as it is termed, viz., three of the head, three of the beak, three of the wattle, and three of the eye. The head should be long and straight, and flat on the top; the beak should be straight, and long, and thick; the wattle should be broad at the base, short from the head ie the bill, and leaning forward ; and the eye should be large, and round, and uniform. A bird possessing all these qualifications, and being only of one colour, and that dark blue, may be esteemed a, first-class bird, that is, taking a “fancier’s” view of the subject. Dun- coloured birds, “cinnamons,” are the least valued, though, without doubt, they possess as much sagacity and power of flight as any. Firmness of: feather is an unerring sign of a good constitution, and a long wing of speed and endurance. As the carrier grows old he loses his lithe, active appearance, and his wattle increases in bulk. By these tokens you may judge of a bird’s age. Their genuine plumage is black, and the feathers set remarkably close to the body. These lacks occa- sionally throw a dun, which duns are thought generally to have the best heads. Other colours are sometimes to be met with, but are rarely so good, and have almost invariably the great blemish of black eyes. They should be trained while young, and afterwards kept in exercise, or they become fat and idle, and their organ of “locality,” or whatever it may be that enables them so marvellously to track their way, becomes weakened from want of use. They are shy, rather unfriendly birds, and excellent breeders and nurses, if kept in a natural ‘state, but if allowed to become too fat they are less careful of their offspring. The way of sending a despatch, or attaching the letter, is simply to write that which it is desired to communicate on a small piece of light paper,—say about three or four ‘inches square. This is rolled up about the size of a goose-quill, and laid between two of the tail feathers, where it is secured by means of a -piece of fine binding wire, which is pushed into one or both the shafts of the feathers. Their vanes are then wrapped about the paper by twisting the wire round and round, so thatthe pigeon carries it without being in the least inconvenienced in its flight. Some persons, I believe, wind the paper round the shank of the foot, or leg, and fasten it with worsted. The Belgians have always been remarkable for their fond- ness of pigeon sports. It is recorded that in the year 1825, “The Society of Amateurs,” at Antwerp, sent ninety Carriers PIGEONS. to fly for a prize. They were started from the French capital at seven o’clock in the morning, and by noon of the same day thirteen of them had reached home. The first arrived at half- past eleven o’clock. The true Antwerp carrier is comparatively a rare bird. It is 36t supposed to be indigenous to the country where ié is found, but to be simply the descendant of tame pigeons who have lost their homes, and betaking themselves to such se- cluded and airy sites as the ancient towers and steeples the city of Antwerp affords, have there increased and multiplied. The size of the Antwerp carrier is nearly that of our familiar blue rock; its plumage is mostly mealy, with bright brown bars across the wings, and the neck of a reddish tint. The beak is slender and dove-shaped; the eye full and glittering, like two pink-tinted pearls. The forehead is rather full and round. As already mentioned, this bird is seldom met with. Says Mr. Brent, “so choice are the few persons that keep them that they rarely can be induced to part with them, and so wild and restless are the birds in a strange place that it would be a rare occurrence for them to breed there ; their wild nature and the indomitable desire to return to their native home cause them to be ever on the alert to escape; and should they be confined securely for a year, or even more, they will frequently at the expiration of that time, from their shy, restless disposi- tion, be found willing and capable of returning to their old abode, though the journey may be one or two hundred miles.” The Liege, or “ short-faced Antwerp,” although not quite so clever as his cousin, who owns the proud title of “ the true,” is more desirable, inasmuch as it will sooner get reconciled to a new home. It is supposed to be a cross between the owl and the turbit, two sorts of pigeon very common in the Low Countries, where the Liege is more prevalent than elsewhere. It is very sober in plumage, chiefly whole coloured, mealy blue, or blue chequered. In July, 1828, fifty-six carriers, brought to London from Liege, were flown in the neighbourhood of Al- dersgate-street, at thirty-four minutes pest four o’clock, a.m. One of them reached its destination, a distance of about three hundred miles, at twenty-four minutes past ten o’clock the same morning, having thus accomplished its journey in five hours and fifty minutes. The other pigeons followed in suc- cession, and all of them reached Liege at noon. In July, 1829, in a fight “ against time,” forty-one birds were loosed at ae THE CARRIER PIGEON. Maestricht, and to show what speed was expected of the little aérial travellers, the foremost one lost, although its speed had averaged more than forty-five miles an hour. Among other given purposes for which this bird of speedy fight has been used, is that of assisting in the capture of smugglers. Captain Gouland who, some years ago, was won- derfully successtul in arresting the contrabandists trading in the vicinity of Dover, kept a large flight, and had agents on the continent, who despatched, his birds with the intelligence when cargoes of contraband goods might be expected. This having been practised for some time, the smugglers procured hawks to kill the pigeons when let off, thus destroying many of the captain’s winged scouts. “The carrier pigeon fancy,” says good “old English” Mowbray, writing thirty years ago, “has never since been so prevalent in this country as it was sixty years ago. Men’s minds have assumed a direction entirely opposite to that of sportive amusements; political reform and the re- dress of ancient grievances are now the popular substitute for pigeon flying.” It is, of course, like my impertinence to question the sentiments of a writer who so wrote about the period of my weaning; but, with all due respect to Mr. Mow- bray, I must think that reform and the redress of national grievances is no mean substitute for pigeon flying. My advice to the amateur pigeon-keeper is, that he had better take to politics or even worse, than meddle with “carriers.” Be careful in your dealings with the “swift messenger,” or even with his immediate cross-bred progeny. Carriers are not the most prolific breeders, and certainly not the most affectionate’ parents. They will frequently turn their eggs out of the nest, ar wantonly break them, rather than be troubled with the cares of hatching. If, however, the amateur is bent on keep- ing carriers, the best course he can pursue is, first to discover that rara avis, a trustworthy bird-dealer, and then to purchase of him some newly-laid carrier’s eggs. These he may place under a she “ dragon,” who, belying her name, is the most careful of pigeon-mothers. By all means avoid the purchase of old carriers; he who is sc rash may depend he has seen the last of them the very first time he lets them loose. I have a valuable bit of advice to give respecting breeding generally, and it may as well be given here as elsewhere. Never breed “im and im.” That is, never attempt to stock your dormer from a single pair. If you do attempt it, the 24 PIGEONS. resalt will be a vace of weak, pigmy birds, always ailing, and not worth the food they consume. There is really no reason why you should, as any pigeon keeper will exchange equals of the same breed with you. THE DOVE-HOUSE PIGEON. This is the commonest of all the varieties of pigeon, and is widely spread through this country, as well as in other parts of Europe and Asia. They are often found in a state of nature, haunting rocks and cliffs like the blue rock, and are mistaken for that pigeon, but their difference in plumage and greater susceptibility of domestication mark them as distinct. The dove-house pigeon is the sort most usually used for shooting-matches, and are better known to cockney sportsmen as “blue rocks,” “ duffers,” and “ rockies.” They are too well known, however, to require a minute description. They may be taken as the standard size of pigeons generally, most of the same kinds being rather larger. Their beaks are thin, dark horn coloured, and dove shaped; their eyes gravelly red; the feet smooth, scaled, and deep red coloured, though the young ones have the scales of the feet of a blackish shade. The general colour of their plumage is a blackish slate colour, the greater wing coverts being tipped with bluish slate, so as to give them the mottled aspect from which they derive their name. The necks are glossed with green and purple reflections, the rump slate coloured, the tail barred with black, the external feather on each side has a bluish white mark on the outer web. They are very prolific, and will rear, if well cared for, as many as eight, and even ten, broods in the year. If the young are brought up by hand they can be made exceedingly tame With the exception of the tumbler, no kind is capable of being made so docile. In an untutored state, moreover, they are exceedingly wild and shy, which, combined with their quickness and great power of wing, causes them to be favourites with pigeon-shooters. “ Although, if much disturbed in their lodging,” says a modern pigeon authority, “or their abode becomes wuncomfort- able from some other cause, they will occasionally desert it (but such occurrences are rare), these houseless pigeons fre- quently jom a neighbouring dovecot, where they feel more at ease ; or, joined by any pigeons that may have lost their home (probably some brought from a distance, and let out by some oe pigeon-keeper before they have become acqnainted THE RUUE ROCK PIGEON. & with their new dwelling), they betake themselves to some ruin, tower, or steeple, or even to the eaves and cornices of some publ building, where birds of this description may frequently be met with; or, in mountainous districts, they will betake themselves to the rocks, and join any colony of wild birds that may happen to be there. Although a naturally timid bird, the dove-house pigeon does not, like the blue rock, shun the abode of man.” Respecting the theory that the entire family of British pigeons claim as their progenitors the dove-house pigeon, the same authority observes :—‘ I believe that the blue rock is a distinct species from the dove-house. I have not, however, had any op- portunity of trying to what ex- tent the two will breed together, or if their produce would be pro- ductive inter se, as I have never been able to procure the blue rock pigeon in all its purity; but its wild unreclaimable nature, and its shunning so completely the abodes or neighbourhood of man, lead me to suspect that such is the case. “ The dove-house pigeon is, on the other hand, a bird eminently susceptible of domestication—is everywhere found in that state ; and a great many of the varieties of toys, or the lower class fancy pigeons, are evidently of this sort, little or nothing changed except in the colour of their plumage, while many others appear to be derived from the same source, but crossed with the other fancy kinds, or showing, more or less, the effect of careful breeding and selection. Thus far I am willing to admit of their descent from one original stock, viz. the chequered dove-house pigeon, Columba agrestis —Columba afinis of some. But when we come to examine the varied forms and distinct properties of many of the higher class fancy pigeons, I feel a great disinclination to assign them one com- mon origin; nor do I think that even the admission of the blue rock (supposing that pigeon will produce fertile offspring with the dove-house pigeon) is sufficient to account for the many varied and marked peculiarities, or that domestication could so alter the form, and even nature, of the different breeds which continue to present the same peculiarities through so many geverations. Of course, I do not deny the Possibility BLUE ROCK PIGEON. PIGEONS. of such a thing, but I think it very improbable, and I cannot divest my mind of the idea, that at least some of the so-called varieties are something more. I allude to the wattled pigeons, the fantails, the trumpeters, the jacobins, the croppers, and the tumblers. These birds have all certain peculiarities by which they may be known and distinguished, under whatever circum- stances of form or colour they may be bred. These properties are fixed, and do not appear among other varieties; nor are they liable to be lost, unless cross-breeding is resorted to. Neither have I ever heard of their appearing suddenly, or from any particular plan of breeding, which we might expect if they were, as some suppose, owing to taking advantage of some freak of nature or accidental malformation. I should incline to the belief that the various fancy pigeons owe their origin, oot to one particular stock, but to the domestication and mingling of some five or six varieties, or uearly-allied species. These original families have long since become lost and obliterated, while from their mixture our present numerous varieties arise, the result of long domestication, and careful selection and breeding.” THE TUMBLER PIGEON. This aérial acrobat is one of the most favoured of the pigeon tribes. He deserves to be. Whether spinning about among the clouds, turning back summersaults, unsurpassed for neatness by anything ever attempted in that line at Astley’s, or sitting at hand, his plump little body firmly set on his sturdy little legs, and his intelligent-looking head well set on his handsome neck, a more desirable pigeon cannot be found. Moreover, they are among the most prolific of their kind. There are several varieties of the tumbler breed: the old English tumbler, the German feather-footed breed, the common flying tumbler, and several others. The old English variety is nearly extinct. They are smaller than the ordinary sort, with short beaks and round heads, and are extremely high flyers. The ordinary colour of this breed is blue. The German feather- footed are large, handsome birds, and good breeders. The general plumage of these birds is black, while the feather festoons about their feet (slippers they are called) are white. “T once,” says an experienced pigeon fancier, “ kept a considerable flight of them, and can speak from experience that, notwithstanding their size, they would soar and tumble as well as the English birds; but, though they flew lightiy THE TUMBLER PIGEON. and remained long up, yet their flight is not swift, and eonse- quently they are frequently taken by hawks. They are most remarkable for the quantity and length of feathers on the feet. I have had some with feathers six inches long, which stuck out almost like a small pair of wings when the birds flew.” The variety best known, however, is the common flying tumbler; and of the sub-varieties of this kind there is scarcely a colour common io the domestic pigeon that may not be found among the “ common fliers.” Of the “whole” coloured ones, ; there are blacks, blues, checquers, ( silvers, duns, kites, reds, yellows, oF A buffs, drabs,ash-colours, and mealys. There is a white sort, but these are aa rare. In the mixed coloured birds, however, nearly all of them show TUMBLER PIGEONS, some of the rare plumage. These variegated birds are variously known. A mottled is a whole- coloured pigeon, barring white feathers sprinkled over the head, neck, and shoulders; and according to the colour, so is it called a black, red, or mealy mottled. A gay mottle is one that re- verses this order, except in tail and flight, which must be dark; the remainder of the plumage white, with a few dark feathers interspersed. These, when regularly mottled, are sometimes called ermine tumblers. A grizzle is one in which in each feather is a mixture of white with some other colour, and is termed a blue grizzle or black grizzle, according to the “ pround.” Red grizzle and strawberry are synonymous. A haggle is a bird whose colours are between those of a mottle and a grizzle. A splashed is something similar—between a mottled and a pied. A pied is a pigeon whose colour is divided into patches, which give rise to distinctive names. There is the beard pied, or blue-beard, or black-beard, &c., according to the ground colour. “To be accurate in marking, the under mandible should be light, with a white patch under the beak, reaching from the corners of the mouth to the eyes, and being nearly a fnger’s breadth under the bill, and gradually dwindling to a point at the eyes, so as to give the appearance of a white beard, from which the name is derived. From seven to ten extreme pinion or flight feathers must be white on each side, as also the whole tail, upper and uvrder tail coverts, and the feathers 272 PIGEONS. on the rump, vent, and thighs, the rest of the body being of ane colour; blues and silvers, however, having black bars on their wings. On the accuracy and evenness tf their marking does their proportionate value consist. If dark feathers occur on the thighs, they are termed foul-thighed. If too much white down the neck, it is said to be slobbered. “ The piebald, or bald-headed tumbler, called for shortness a baldpate, resembles the preceding except the head, which is all white. The line passes a little below the beak and eye, and must be straight and even all round the head, when it is said to be clean cut; if otherwise, slobbered or foul-headed, and| accordingly depreciated in value. Flight, tail, rump, vent, and thighs, white, like the beards. Both must have clear pearl eyes. Indeed, this is essential for all tumblers.” One of the most favourite among the “ short-faced” tumblers is the “ almond.” To be perfect it should be tri- coloured, yellow, black, and white, every feather partaking of the three tints. Yellow, however, should predominate. If you are desirous of founding a breed of almond tumblers, you must match a black with a yellow bird, and they should be as near four years old as possible, as then they are in their prime. If it is your intention to purchase almond tumblers in their squeakerhood, your best plan will be first to see the squeakers’ parents, and let their appearance guide your purchase, as little can be judged from the squeakers’ plumage previous to its first moult. You will find it murky and dingy as un- polished gold, and indeed it is not till the bird has reached his third year that he attains his true colours. As a rule, if the parents are perfect in colour, you may venture to purchase the progeny. For my part, however, I see little sense in breeding birds as fantastically coloured as parrots, whose proper province is the clear blue heavens. Where is the use of it? What becomes of the pretty colour it has cost you so much time and patience to cultivate when the birds are properly disporting half a mile above your headP They are simply clay-coloured. A flock of “ silvers,” or “‘ magpies” even, look ten times as handsome. It only becomes worth while to breed variegated pigeons when you possess sufficient cruelty to immure them in cages, like canaries, and keep them for exhibition. Besides, the artificial colouring won’t stand. As the bird grows old, Nature asserts her right, the gay plumage gradually fades, the yellow blends with the black, and becomes dirty grey, and finally the over- THE TUMBLER PIGEON. taxed feathers assume the natural black or cmnamon, and the handsome “ almond” becomes a common “ kite.” Therefore, good reader, set not your heart on “ perfect almonds.” If you want variety, match blachs with cream- colour, and breed magpies; or cinnamon w.th black, and produce cinnamon-splash. Let your first aim, however, be to procure well-shaped birds. The breast should be full, the body short, the neck slender, the eye pearly, and the beak as straight as a goldfinch’s. Tumblers are specially addicted to making a loud clapping noise with their wings on rising into the air; indeed, the better “ clappers ” they are, the better they are liked. There is little doubt that this peculiarity earned for this pigeon the ancient appellation of Smiter. Speaking of them, quaint old Willughby says:—“ I take these to be those which the forementioned Hollander told Aldrovandus that his countrymen called Draiiers. These do not only shake their wings as they fly, but also, flying round about in a ring, especially over their females, clap them so strongly, that they make a greater sound than two battledores or other boards struck one against another. Whence it comes to pass that their quill-feathers are almost wholly broken and shattered, and sometimes so bad that they cannot fly.” Smiters, or something very like them, must have been known and kept so long back even as Pliny’s time; for we find him writing about some variety of pigeon as follows: —“ You would think they were conscious of their own colours, and the variety with which they are disposed; nay, they even attempt to make their flight a means of clapping in the air, and tracing various courses in it. By which ostentation they are betrayed to the power of the hawk, as if bound, their feathers being entangled in the action of making the noise, which is produced only by the actual shoulders of their wings.” Never let your tumbler fly with other pigeons. They will not be able to fly near so high as he, and he, being a sociable bird, will descend and fly with them for the sake of company ; consequently his flight will be spoiled. A well-behaved bird never tumbles, except while ascending or when coming down to pitch. You may judge of the health of your birds by their aérial performance. Ii the bird is not perfectly well, he will not tumble at all. To break in young tumblers to a good flight, they should be let out as soon after sunrise as possible, in company of two or PIGEONS. three experienced birds, and very curious it is to see the young novices endeavouring to imitate the manceuvres of their elders. Let them stay out for a couple of hours, and then recall them by strewing their board (which, as before mentioned, must be painted a bright white) with canary-seed. Never let them out on foggy or very windy days, as they are very apt to lose themselves under such circumstances. Respecting “short-faced ” tumblers, a variety high in favour with fanciers, no more need be said, than that it matters little what their colour may be, so that, like a satisfied Chartist, they possess the “ five points.” These points are, one of the eye, one of the beak, one of the head, one of feather, and one of carriage. The head should be round, broad, and high; that is| to say, having a full forehead, rising abruptly, and rather overhanging the beak, so as to form an acute angle where the head and beak join, or, as the fanciers say, have a good stop. Fanciers resort occasionally to the shameful practice of breaking the beak or nose, when young, to improve the “ stop;” but this often gives the birds an up-beaked appear- ance. The wattle must be very fine and narrow, so as to leave but little space between the beak and the feathers of the head, which should show a sudden rise from the base of the beak. The beak should not exceed five-eighths of an inch, measured trom the iris of the eye to the end of the quick of the beak, but the shorter the better, straight, and fine, and it has been com- pared to that of a goldfinch. Paring or cutting the beak is resorted to by some dishonest persons; but it is generally easily to be detected by practised eyes, and spoils the appear- ance. Ifthe young are reared by too coarse nurses, they often have their backs wrenched or twisted, which makes them unsightly or parrot-beaked. The eye should be of a bright clear pearly white, the fuller and more prominent the better; and there must be no naked skin or cere round it. “n the best-headed birds the eye often appears rather Lelow the centre of the head. A broken or muddy eye spoils the pret- tiest face. The form of the bird should be small and compact, short thin ne2k, full chest, short back, tail and pinion feathers also short, and feet small, the carriage mincing, or, as it is vulgarly but expressively termed, * gingerly,” head well thrown back, neck curved, chest up, pinions sweeping below the tail, the bird 376 THE TUMBLER PIGEON. strutting on its toes as if it were walking tiptoe to make the most of itself. As regardls feather, the same rules apply to the short-faced as to the other sorts. For the following directions as to the way in which a “ flight ” of tumblers should be trained, we are indebted to Mr. B. P. Brent, published by that gentleman in his admirable little “ pigeon-book ” :— “ Procure, if possible, a few high-flying birds, to train the young ones to rise high when out. ‘This is of much import- ance, and will save much trouble. The flying tumblers should be kept in a roomy loft by themselves. A trap, or area, as I have before described, is indispensable, in order to manage the pigeons successfully. Once a day they should be turned out to fly; the fore part of the day is the best, as, when the sun shines too hot, they do not fly so willingly. When in practice they will mount at once high into the sky, occasionally clapping their wings, and turning over backwards till they rise to their fall height or “ pitch,” often going quite out of sight, but keeping pretty much over their abode. They will thus con- tinue on the wing for two or three hours; when they begin to descend, they tumble very much. When down they should be entived in, and kept confined for the rest of the day, and not allowed to loiter about outside, or associate with other pigeons. Their loft should be made as comfortable as possible, and be provided with everything they require,—such as clean wster, a bath, the well-filled hopper, a salt-cat, grits, green foou, and materials for nesting, so as to prevent any desire to roam about, when out, to obtain these enjoyments; if not, it will soon be found that, instead of flying off at once, and mounting high in the air, they will make for some roof, or other spot, where they can find that for which they are longing ; therefore, it is of great importance to remove any temptation, by supply- ing all their rants im their own loft. By this means, they will at once soar when let out, though, perhaps, at first it may be necessary to drive them up, by waving a flag, or otherwise frightening them. A few used to high-flying assist much in teaching the young ones, as they become strong on the wing, to soa; but it is very difficult, or almost impossible, to teach those that have long been accustomed to fly about at random, to fly high regularly. The best way to proceed with such is, after they are accustomed to the place, to send them off by a servant to the distance of half a mile or so, while the othera are out; they will then most likely rise very high and join ee PIGEONS. them. By continuing this for some weeks, they will get accus tomed to fly. Any that are determined not to rise need not be let out with the flight, or even at all. “When in full practice, they will start off from the trap directly it is opened; and, after rising high, and flying a good time, according to the state of the air, will descend and sit on the roof, gradually going in through tipping holes and bolt- wires, as the trap ought to be closed, and not opened till the next day.” Should your tumblers be troubled with scouring, give them whole rice, mixed with their ordinary food; or should the scouring be obstinate, give them a pill three times a day, composed of powdered chalk kneaded with syrup of poppies. THE POUTER. This is also a very favourite pigeon, and, without doubt, the most curious of his species. He is a tall, strong bird, as he had need be, to carry about his great inflated crop, frequently as large and as round as a middling-sized turnip. A perfect pouter seen on a windy day is certainly a ludicrous sight. His feathered legs have the appearance of white trousers; his tapering tail looks like a swallow-tail coat; his head is en- tirely concealed by his immense windy protruberance, and altogether he reminds you of a little “ swell” of a past cen- tury, staggering under a bale of linen. A great pigeon authority says of the pouter, that to be reckoned a handsome bird, it should possess the following qualifications :— “ His tail should be spread out, and not touch the ground, nor droop close to or between his legs, and, above all, he must not rest upon his rump, which is called rumping, and a very great fault. The shoulders of his wings should be kept close to his body, and rather high up towards his neck; he should also show the lower ends of the wings removed from the tail, and keep his feet near together, walking chiefly on his toes. He should measure eighteen inches from the point of the beak to the tip of the tail, and the body of the bird should slope off taper fram the shoulders. The yellow-pied pouter should be m-rked as follows:—The front and higher part of the crop should be white, encircled with a shining green, mixed with the colours with which he is pied, but the white should not reach the back of. the head, for then he is called “ ring-headed,” there being a patch, in the shape of a half-moon, falling upon THE POUTER PIGEON. the side of the neck of the same colour with which he is pied; when this is wanting, he is called swallow-throated. The head, neck, back, and tail, should be uniform. A blue-pied pigeon should have two black streaks or bars, near the end of both wings; if these be of a brown colour, the bird is not worth nearly as much, and he is termed kite-barred. When the pinion of the wing is speckled with white, in the form of a rose, it is called a rose-pinion, and is highly esteemed; when the pinion has a large dash of white on the outer edge of the wing, he is said to be bishoped, or lawn-sleeved. They should not be naked about the thighs nor spindle-shanked, but the legs and thighs ought to be stout, straight, and well covered with white, soft, downy feathers; if the feathers of these parts be of any other colour, the bird is much _ less valuable. The nine larger wing- feathers ought also to be white; if not, he is called foul-flighted; and if only some of them are white, he is called sword-flighted.” The pouter is not a prolitic breeder, is a bad nurse, and more likely to degenerate, if not repeatedly crossed and recrossed with fresh stock, than any other pigeon; never- theless, it is a useful bird to keep, especially if you are founding a new colony, as it is much attached to its home, and little apt to stray; consequently, it is calculated to induce more restless birds to settle down, and make themselves comfortable. If you wish to breed pouters, you cannot do worse than entrust them with their own eggs. They should be set under a dragon; but you must be sure to supply the hen-pouter with other eggs, or she will go on repeatedly laying, and so weaken her constitu- tion as to kill herself in a very short time. The most common pouters are the blues, buffs, and whites, or an intermixture of all these various colours, I never saw the experiment tried, but it is asserted, on good authority, that if you pair a chestnut-coloured cock with a blr.e hen, the result will be a chestnut hen and a blue cock; and if this coupie are again paired, the progeny will each take the colour of their respective grand-parents. If the pouter is kept too long from grain, the chances are that, the first time he has the opportunity, he will so gorge his crop with it that some will mildew and decay hefore he hay Se POUTER PIGEON. PIGEONS. time to consume it. If this state of things is not altered, the greedy pouter will certainly die. The following, however, is an old-fashioned and good remedy :— : Put the bird, feet downwards, into a worsted stocking, and stroke the crop upwards. Then hang up the stocking, and do no more than supply the imprisoned pouter with water, in moderation, till he has digested the contents of his crop. When you release them, however, don’t give them their liberty, or their empty bellies may tempt them to surfeit themselves again. Put them under a coop, and feed them for two or three days sparingly. The hen-pouter has not so extensive a crop as the cock, nor is she so upright in her gait. A certain sign of the pouter’s being out of health is the hanging of his crop, like an empty bag. It is customary to keep them separate during the most severe winter months. The apartment devoted to each bird should be at least two feet high, else the bird will contract an ugly habit of stooping. As one of the greatest defects a pouter can possess is in- ability to control his inflated crop, it may be as well, before you purchase an old bird, to see the wind-bag filled, and to observe how the bird then behaves. This the bird-dealer will do for you, or if you like you can do it yourself. Take the pigeon in your hands, and hold his wings to his sides; then take his beak into your mouth, and blow gently. So far from objecting to the operation, the pouter will enjoy it, and close his eyes in a satisfied manner while his crop is puffed out for him like a balloon. Then stand him on the ground; if he walks steadily, and evinces no disposition to totter while the crop rema'ns fully distended, you may safely buy the bird, and be under n> apprehension that he will one day come to an untimely end, by toppling down a chimney or plumping into the jaws of a cat. THE RUNT. Despite all that has ,een written to the contrary, experience warrants me in strongly recommending runts to the amateur pigeon-keeper; indeed, one circumstance alone entitles them to be considered the “ boy’s first pigeons,” and that is, that they are almost as unlikely to fly away as are your chickens. They are very heavy birds, and when well fed will find it difficult to mount, even as high as a house. They require no loft or d weoot, and, if properly tended, would thrive as well THE RUNT PIGEON. in a rabbit-hutch as anywhere. They are capital birds to breed for the table, being very prolific. I have known as many as fifteen young ones produced in a year by a single pair; and I have dined off many a plump squeaker runt, whose flavour has been exquisite, and whose weight, when ready for the spit, has exceeded a pound and a quarter. There are several varieties of runts,—the Roman, the Leg- horn, the Spanish, and the Friesland, being among the number. The Roman is the largest, and easiest to manage of any. The Leghorn comes next, and is one of the most favoured by fanciers. It is shaped much like the tumbler, but im size and habit is very different. It is remarkably short from the base of the back of the neck to the root of the tail, and very full and broad bosomed. It has a round head and sunken eyes, surrounded by a tough skin. A small wattle surrounds the base of the beak, which is slightly hooked. The most favourite colours with the “ fancy” are dark slate and red. If they be bred specially for the table, however, I should recommend that the lighter colours be chosen,—white, mottled, or pure white; for the general rule of colour affecting quality in the flesh holds good in tame pigeons. The black and dark feathered are proportionally dark or brown fleshed, of high flavour, inclining to the game bitter of the wild pigeon. The light colour of the feathers denotes light and delicate flesh. The Spanish runt is the smallest, with a long body and very short tail and neck. The most curious runt of RUNT PIGEONS, all is he of Friesland, his fea- thers being all set the contrary way; so that if you wish to smooth and caress him, you must begin at his tail and bring your hand forward towards his neck. This peculiarity greatly interferes with the bird’s flight ; and whereas every other pigeon, when at large, roosts with his face to the wind, so that his plumage may not be ruffled, the Friesland runt, for the same reason, turns his tail to the breeze. The “ frill-back ” is another favourite, though rather scarce variety. He is invariably white or cream-coloured, and the peculiarity of plumage, from which its name is derived, con- PIGEONS. sists of all its feathers curling upwards, so that the point of each stands out, and the whole has the appearance of a plaited frill. The runt is rather more subject than any other pigeon to the disease known as “ wet roup;” when this is the case, give him a pepper-corn every day till he is better. THE TRUMPETER. This should be a favourite, either in the dovecot, or loft, as it possesses almost every quality desirable in a pigeon. It is hardy, a good breeder, a moderate flyer, has an uncommon and attractive appearance, fattens easily, and eats very tender. He may be known by the moustache that decorates the upper half of his beak, by his “ runty” shape, by his legs being thickly feathered to the very heels, and by a little bunch of curled feathers on the summit of his head. All birds of this species, however, have not this latter peculiarity, and when they have they are specially known as crested trumpeters. Yellowish white is the trumpeter’s most ordinary colour, though they may not unfrequently be found beautifully speckled black and white. From a “ fancier’s” point of view, the trumpeter should possess a big round head—the bigger and rounder the better; a full and bushy moustache, too, is especially stipulated for, and paid for, too, handsomely. For my part, however, I should always be content to see my birds moderately mous- tached, and not over big-headed, and to pay eighteenpence or a couple of shillings each for them, instead of a guinea, as I otherwise should. It is said that the bird derives its name from the fact of its emitting a sound like the blowing of a trumpet. However, like many other things that are “ said,” this seems to me an exaggera- tion. The bird in question coos rather more sonorously than most of his brethren, and that, as far as my experience goes, is all. Says Mr. Brent, “ The TRUMPETER PIGEONS, trumpeter is regarded by naturalists as one of the purest varieties of our domestic pigeons, and they affirm, THE NUN PIGEON, that if once crossed, the breed cannot be bred back again; hence, these cross-bred birds are always deficient in some point—either the voice or one of the turns is wanting. As a case in point, my father, many years back, was very desirous of obtaining some trumpeter pigeons, and could then only procure one cock, and his half-bred daughter, from which he bred, matching the cock again with his daughters of the second and third generations, without obtaining one young bird with the tuft over the beak. At the fourth generation he reared a hanasume, black-mottled yousg cock with the desired tuft; but, to his great disappointment, he did not trumpet, although he was fifteen-sixteenths pure bred, and breeding so close stopped reproduction. Surely such experi- ments go far to prove the distinctness of what are sometimes called mere varieties.” THE NUN. This is an extremely pretty little bird. In shape it is some- thing like the tumbler, and, like the latter bird, it has a tuft of feathers rising from the back of the head. “ To be perfect,” says a writer who has made this bird his peculiar study, “ the head, flight-feathers, and tail, should be of some dark colour, either yellow, red, or black. The breast, belly, upper part of the wings, back, and neck, should be pure white, and there should be a frill of white feathers over the head. According to the colour of the head, it is called the red, black, or yellow- headed nun. If the bird have foul feathers, that is, if he have white or speckled feathers, where they should be one of these colours, whether it be on the wings, head, or tail, it is called foul-feathered, and the value of the bird is much less than it would have been if the feathers were pure in colour. He should have a small head and beak, and the larger the tuft or hood is the handsomer does the bird appear, and the more valuable it is reckoned by the fancy.” On the continent there are two sub-varieties of the nun, the one called the beard pigeon, both in France and Germany; but it differs only in having white flights, the head and tail being the only coloured part; the other having the tail also white, the head only coloured. By the French amateurs, this is called the death’s-head pigeon. “The most beautiful specimens of nuns,” says Temminck, -* are those which are black, but have the quill-feathers and the head white: they are called Nonnains Mourins.” The most PIGEONS. useful sort, however—and excesdingly charming birds they are —are what Buffon styles Coquille Hollandaise, or Dutch shell- pigeons, “ because they have, at the back of their head, re- versed feathers, which form a sort of shell. They are also of short stature. They have the head black, the tail and the ends of the wings also black, and all the rest cf the body white. This black-headed variety so strongly resembles the Tern (hirondelle de mer), that some persons have given it that name.” Several otner fanciful names have been bestowed upon it, but none appears so appropriate as that of Nun, especially in the black-headed variety. The best-marked birds will sometimes throw out a few foul feathers; from such birds, bowever, though not so much valued in themselves, can often de obtained as clean-feathered birds as those that are not, THE MAGNIFICENT. PIGEONS.—PART IT. = DOMESTIC PIGEONS. THE ARCHANGEL. No bird is more rich and unique in its colouring than this. It is a steady breeder and a handsome flyer; but from some oversight the stock is so little cultivated, that first-rate arch- angels will fetch almost enough money to stock a dove-cot with tumblers, or other of the commoner sorts. The head of the archangel (his name would bespeak him a Russian) is decorated with a little plume much like that of the crested trumpeter; his head—indeed the whole fore part of his body—is copper-coloured ; the tail, wings, and hinder parts of the body, of a dark blue; the iris orange-red, and the feet crimson. Altogether the archangel is a bird whose acquaint- ance is desirable. A person accustomed to pigeons can tell almost to a certainty which are the cocks and which are the hens. The cock has a thicker neck, a stouter bill, and is fuller about the cheeks. The hen looks milder; has a more timid expression of face; is thinner about the neck, base of the beak, and cheeks. The age of pigeons is more difficult to determine than their sex. Young birds that have. not yet moulted may be 3 385 PIGEONS. imown by their duller plumage, owing to the nest feathers of dark birds being edged with brown. Their wing-pinion fea- thers are also smaller, more pointed, and frequently brown- ish at the tip. Even if they have moulted, these, the se- condary wing-feathers, are usually retained till the next sum- mer, and appear smaller, dingier, and of less substantial fabric to what they assume afterwards. Old age shows itself in the wrinkling of the nostril covers, the sunken eye, the rough and thickened appearance of the eyelids, and the rough feet. It will, however, be found more difficult to discriminate between the sexes among fancy pigeons than among the com- mon dove-cot stock, where all the birds are of a certain stamp. It will be, therefore, as well—as regards fancy pigeons espe- cially, considering the extra pecuniary loss a mistake in selection may involve—to lay down more explicit directions to tell a cock from a hen bird, whatever may be the breed. The following are the rules observed by one of the most successful of modern pigeon breeders, and laid down by. him for the benefit of his kind :— “The cock’s breastbone is longer than the hen’s; her vent bones are set wider apart; but this, also, varies with age. The coo of the cock is also louder, and more sonorous, than that of the hen, which is shorter, and somewhat hurried in manner; neither does the hen generally coo so much as the cock. Lastly, their gestures are the most certain signs. Place the doubtful bird in the matching-pen, away from all others, for a few days, till it gets tolerably used to its new abode, which will much depend upon the bird’s being wild or tame. Secrete yourself where you may not be noticed, if the bird is wild, but where you can see its manners and movements; then introduce @ merry cock, who will at once play up to the stranger, and, if a hen, she will acknowledge his advances by the twinkling of her eyes, nodding her head, an action of the throat as if swal- lowing, slightly fluttering her wings, and, as she moves before him, making a curtsey, at the same time raising the shoulders of the wings, and slightly spreading her tail. On the other hand, if a cock, a battle will most likely be the result, from which the later-introduced bird generally tries to escape. In this case, remove him, and put in a hen, to which, if he is at all inclined to mate, he will at once play up in a merry tone, bowing his head, sweeping the ground with his spread tail, and. Boneiehinies spinning round and round, or jumping after her.” THE FANTAIL AND JACOBITE PIGEONS. THE FANTAIL. Like the runt, this beautiful bird will be better suited in a house a few feet from the ground, than in one perched at a great height. In my opinion, it is the most elegant of all pigeons. It is most commonly pure white, has a long and delicately-curved neck, and altogether much resembles the ‘swan, both in its formation and gait. To approach perfection, the fantail should possess a tapering neck, and so long, that at times -~y the bird’s head will nestle amongst the tail-feathers;the breastshould be very full and prominent, and _ the tail should be always erect. A(i The tail should never number less **- = than twenty-four, or more than * ~sS*& thirty-six feathers; otherwise, from sheer weight, the tail will FANTAIL PIGEONS. droop, and the beauty of the bird be considerably marred. The fantail is likewise called, by writers, the “ broad-tailed shaker. Willughby calls it so. ‘ They are called shakers,” says he, “ because they do almost constantly shake or wag their heads up and down; broad-tailed, from the great number of feathers they have in their tails; they say not fewer than twenty-six. When they walk up and down, they do for the most part hold their tails erect like a hen or turkey-cock.” If you breed the fantail with another Species of pigeons, the fantail will, either wholly or in part, disappear ; if only in part, then it is called a “ half fantail,” or “ narrow-tailed shaker.” It is possible, however, to restore the true breed by matching an entire fantail with a “ narrow-tailed shaker.” ; THE JACOBITE. This bird is variously known as the “ jack,” the “ ruff,” and the “ capuchin,” as well as by its proper title. Its chief pecu- larity is a frill of inverted feathers, the back of the head resembling, to a fanciful imagination, the cowl of a monk, whence its name. ‘This frill is called the “ hood,” and the closer and more compact it grows the greater the bird is prized. The lower part of the hood-feathers is called the chain, and they should be of such length as to admit of their being lapped over in front of the bird. ee PIGEONS. “ Jacobines,’ says Willughby, “are called by the Low Dutch cappers, because, on the hinder part of the head, or nape of the neck, certain feathers reflected upwards encompass the head behind, almost after the fashion of a monk’s hood, when he puts it back to uncover his head. These are called. Cyprus pigeons by Aldrovandus, and some of them are rough- footed. Aldrovandus hath set forth three or four either species or accidental varieties of this kind. Their bill is short; the jrides of their eyes of a pearl-colour, and the head in all white.” They are variously coloured: white and blue, and white te and black,and mottled. Whatever colour they may be, however, to ‘be considered handsome, they ~_ should have a white head, a white tail, and white flight-feathers. The head, should be very small, and the beak short and spindled. The feet of some jacobites are feathered to the toes, while those of others are bare; this, however, JACOBIN PIGEONS. is of little consequence. A good authority says, “ The ruff is a pigeon very much like the jacobite, and one which is often sold for it; but the true ruff is altogether a larger bird. It has a larger head and longer beak; the chain of feathers does not flow down so near to its shoulders, but it is longer, and not so thick. The capu- chin may be considered as merely a variety of the same breed. The capuchin is larger than the jacobite, and has a longer beak; it has a ruff, or hood, but the feathers do not come down in the same manner, and form a chain, as in the other varieties.” THE TURBIT. The turbit in shape much resembles the jacobite; but it has not the head-covering that distinguishes the latter bird. It is not, however, without finery, and may boast of a finely-frilled shirt-front. This is occasioned by the breast-feather leaning contrary ways and standing straight out. Turbits are classed according to the colour of their shoulders, much in the same way as nuns are from the colour of their heads. There is the blue and blue and yellow shouldered turbit. aos these, there are birds of this species all of THE TURBIT AND BARB PIGEONS, one colour. A turbit’s chief points of goodness are a short bill, a full frill, and a small round head. “ Wholly white turbits,” says a recent authority, “ have been also written of, but I have ww never seen any that might not be ESS with as much propriety called = owls; for the distinction between -the owl and turbit consists in the head, beak, gullet, and frill, and though slight and scarcely ob- servable to an uninitiated eye, yet there is sufficient difference to constitute them separate varieties independently of colour. The beak of the owl is more hooked, the upper mandible bending over the lower, which, combined with their shy and wild nature and their prominent-looking eyes, has given rise to their English name of owl pigeon. The eye, too, is of a pearl or gravel colour, very different from the turbit’s, the head is rounder, and the frill rarely so long. The old writers describe it as opening and reflecting both ways like a rose, which could not be said of the turbit’s frill. “The points of the owl may be enumerated as follows :— Beak short and hooked; head round; eye pearl-coloured and bolting ; gullet well developed; frill rose-shaped; size small; general appearance wild; colour blue or silver; with black bars across the wings, and a light powdery cast of colour about the neck. I am not aware that this variety is known in France, though. they have a white variety of turbit, Pigeon Cravate Blane.” is TURBIT PIGEONS. THE BARB. As its name implies, this bird is originally a native of Barbary. It is a pretty little creature, a fertile breeder, and a good nurse. Seen at a short distance, it is easily mistaken for the carrier. It has a short back and a small wattle. Its chief feature, however, is a spongy pinky skin round the eyes, which increases in size till the bird is three or four years old. In young birds, this wrinkled skin round the eyes is hardly perceived, : The best colour for barbs is an entire black. In such, the prismatic shadings of the neck are particularly beautiful, and the scarlet circle round the eye forms a very handsome con- trast.’ Dun-coloured barbs are also met with occasionally, 389 PIGEONS. Pied, mottled, or fowl-feathered, are of the commonest. The mahomet, or | aharemet pigeon; as it is called, is probably nothing but a white or cream- coloured barb, with a cross of the turbit in many instances. Aldrovandus says that the eyes . should be crocus-coloured, but yee << English fanciers prefer them = pearl, surrounded by a broad : cere of naked, red skin—the broader, evener, and redder it is, the more are the birds esteemed ; the neck long and thin; the chest full; the body long; the feet rather stout, and the pinion-feathers very long. BARB PIGEONS. THE SPOT. The spot, one of our oldest-established “ toy ” pigeons, is supposed to have been first introduced into this country from Holland. The name is derived from a coloured spot on the head. In size, form, and manners, they resemble the common dove-house pigeons. They are pretty, very productive, and well adapted to find their living in the fields. They are sometimes turn-crowned, though generally smooth-headed, and clean-footed; the eye is dark, as is the upper mandible, and the lower is white; on the front of the head, above the beak, is an oval-coloured spot, from which they derive their name ; and the tail is also coloured; the rest of the plumage is a clear white. Spot and tail are of the same colour, either black, blue, red, or yellow. They are designated black, blue, or red spots, accordingly. ° THE HELMET. This bird, at one time very common in this country, is now but seldom seen. The upper mandible is dark, the lower light ; the top of the head, in a line from the corners of the mouth across the eyes, is coloured, giving the bird the appearance of wearing a cap or helmet; the tail is also coloured, the rest of the body being white, except in‘those that are feather- footed, in which the feathers on the feet, from the heels or hocks down the toes, are coloured like the head and tail; the irides are often black, though very frequently broken or half. coloured. an THE MAGPIE AND MAHOMET PIGEONS. Moore, in his “ Columbarium,” in describing this variety of toy pigeon, says, “ This pigeon is much about the size of a nun, or somewhat bigger. The head, tail, and flight- feathers of the wings, are always of one colour, as black, red, or yellow; and I have been informed there are some blue, and all the rest of the body white, so that the chief difference between them and the nun is, that they haye no hood on the hinder part of the head, and are gravel-eyed.” He further re- marks, “ They are called helmets, from their heads being coveréd. with a plumage which is distinct in colour from the body, and appears somewhat like a helmet to cover the head.” THE MAGPIE, This pigeon, a descendant of the once celebrated German magpie-tumbler, has been of late years so neglected as to have lost all pretension to gymnastic’ ability, and has altogether sunk to the insignificant level of a “ toy.” The head, neck, crop, the scapular feathers, and the tail, are coloured,—as black, blue, red, yellow, &. . The wings, the lower part of the breast and thighs, are white; and in the accuracy of their marking their value consists. The scapular feathers, being dark, overlay the upper part of the wings, which cause them to appear somewhat narrow. They are called, according to colour, Black Magpies or Red Magpies. THE MAHOMET. In a treatise on Pigeons published in 1795, this old fashioned member of the pigeon family is described as “ nearly of a cream colour, with bars across the wings as black as ebony, the feathers very particular, being of two colours: the upper part or surface of them appearing of a cream, and underneath a kind of sooty colour, nearly approaching to black, as are, likewise, the flue feathers, and even the skin, which I never observed in any other pigeons but these; its size much like ‘that of a turbit, with a fine gullet, and in lieu of a frill the fea- thers appear like a seam; the head is short, and inclined to be thick, hath an orange eye, and a small, naked circle of black flesh round the same, and a beak something resembling a bull- finch’s, with a small black wattle on it.” Naturalists are, it would seem, not at all agreed as to the classification of this pigeon. There is in Germany a breed of pigeons between the Turkish and the Scandaroon, and, accord- ing to Bechstien, when these “ are of a particular pleckmottled, PIGEONS. they are called Mahomets.” In France again, a cross between the Barb and Scandaroon is called after the infidel prophet, into whose ear—so the heathenish legend runs—a white pigeon whispered the heavenly orders it had just received. Sceptics accuse Mahomet of enticing the pigeon by filling his ears with peas. . THE LAUGHER. “ This pigeon,” wrote Moore, nearly seventy years ago, “is about the size of a middling runt, and much of the same make, and-I am informed has a very bright pearl eye, almost white. As for its feather, it is red mottled, and some tell me they have seen blues. They are said to come from'the Holy Land, near Jerusalem. "When the cock plays to his hen he has a hoarse coo, not unlike the gurgling of a bottle of water when poured out, and then makes a noise which very much imitates a soft laughter, and from thence this bird has its name.” For many years after the above was written, this peculiar breed was allowed to die out. Recently, however, a few have been introduced into this country from Mecca, where they are much esteemed. In form they closely resemble the dovehouse pigeon, with the addition of a tiny feathery peak surmounting the crown of its head. In colour they are a light “ haggle,” that is, something between a grey motile and a grizzle. “The great peculiarity of this variety of domestic pigeon,” says a modern authority, “ consists in their strange voice, which baffles description. It is prolonged, broken, and gurg- ling in utterance, not so sonorous as that of the trumpeter, but more varied, sometimes resembling what we might i imagine an almond tumbler to say if he stammered, and, again, rather resembling the purring coo of the turtle dove. It is, too, often interrupted by one or more inspiratory ‘ahs,’ from which, perhaps, they obtain the name of Laughers.” THE OWL. As noe mentioned, this bird closely resembles the Turbit, and should have the same short round head and stunted beak. According to Mr. Brent, al- though blue and silver are the ==> chief and best colours for the owl pigeon, yet other colours, >,.> as white, black, or even yellow, S are sometimes met with, and I OWL PIGEONS. have seen some recently in Lon- HOW TO TRAIN PIGEONS To “ FLy.” don white with black tails. It has been recommended that the breeding-places for these birds should be private and se- cluded, as from their wild nature they are liable to be dis- turbed. HOW TO TRAIN PIGEONS TO “ FLY.” Having selected the sort of pigeons you wish to train, your first aim must be to not only instil in them a fondness for their home, but to make them familiar with the appearance of its exterior, a8 well as of the surrounding neighbourhood generally. By-the-by, it should have been mentioned that it is almost useless to attempt to train adult pigeons to the flying business. Pigeons have curiously tenacious memories, and if it should happen, even a year after they come into your possession, that they, in the course of a journey, catch sight of their old abode, or even of a “flight” with which they were once familiar, it’is a chance if you ever see them again. To return, however, to the subject of training. After keeping your pigeon well fed in the loft for about a fortnight, during which time you will have paired him with a sober and thoroughly settled hen bird of your establishment, you may allow him, under her charge, to go into the trap or area, and look about him. After a few days more you may let him fly at his will. When he-seems to fly “ strong,” he may be carried out on a bright day to a distance of, say a mile, to essay his first “homing.” It should be borne in mind that the earlier the bird is taught to rely on his own “ homing” instincts, the greater proficient he is likely to become. The box or basket in which pigeons are carried out to be let off or “ tossed ” should be constructed with a view to the bird’s ease during the journey. If your box is large enough to con- tain more than one bird, it should be divided into compart- ments. “It may be from six to eight inches deep, and ten or twelve inches broad; the length will depend on the number of compartments. These may be five inches broad in front, and may either be made straight, or the partitions may be put in obliquely, leaving only one inch width at the tail end, the wide end of the open spaces coming alternately. Thus the pigeons are placed in it alternately head to tail, side by side, by which arrangement much space is economized. The lid is made in pieces, or so jointed that only one bird is let out at atime. A stout leather strap passes over all, and is secured by a buckle or padlock. The boxes should have an air-hole above the head of each pigeon, as well as in the front end of each compartment. PIGEONS. The bottom of the box or basket should be strewn with chaff, to keep their flights and tails clean and dry. Carrying in the hand cramps the birds, and causes diarrhoea; crowding in a bag or basket soils their tails and wings, while the pocket is equally objectionable.” In training the young pigeon to fly, care should be taken that he is neither too full nor too empty. In the first case the weight of his crop will make the bird heavy and lazy, and induce him, perhaps, to settle at the least excuse; and, in the second case, he may be compelled to halt in his flight through sheer faint- ness and exhaustion. The time most favoured by professional flyers to fly their birds is in the case of a hen when she has very young squabs at home, and with the cock when he is “ driving to nest.” \ An able writer on this subject asserts that a high range of hills, or a fog or mist, intervening between a pigeon and its home, will so confuse the bird as to cause it to swerve from its true course, so much even as to cause it to be lost. This, however, is open to question, as London pigeons seldom or never have a chance of a clear day for a fly. Besides, if the birds were so dependent on their visual organs, how is it that night matches are so frequently and successfully flown P Finally, “Great care is necessary to keep them in continual practice, as also in good flying condition—strong, healthy, and clean—by means of good food and plenty of exercise; otherwise they may one day bé missing, although they may have per- formed the same distance often before.” THE SPORT OF PIGEON-FLYING—-ANCIENT AND MODERN. In nothing does man display so much ingenuity as in pro- viding himself with amusement, or, what is infinitely worse, with an excuse for indulging in that pernicious passion, gambling. THe has called on nearly every animal on earth to pay him toll in this respect. Horses run races for him; dogs fight bulls, or bears, or badgers, or cats, or rats, or, lacking other material, each other, for his delectation. From time -immemorial donkeys have been pressed into the service, and even the harmless pig must not be excluded because of the fun that may be manufactured by greasing his tail, letting him loose, and then endeavouring to recapture him by that unhandy appendage. Cock-fighting dates from the period when that bird first became subject to man’s dominion, and for want of larger game, the Asiaties pit quails against each other. THE SPORT OF PIGEON-FLYING. Pigeons are not excepted from the rule, and pigeon-flying has been a British sport from time immemorial. Up to the close of the last century it was an ordinary occurrence for men to stake hundreds of pounds on the result of a “ prize flight.” Carriers of the best breed were brought in hundreds from France and Germany, and then released in one great flock to find their way back across ‘the sea. As late as 1828, we read that, “ fifty-six carriers brought to London from Lege were flown in the neighbourhood of Alders- gate-street, at thirty-four minutes past four am. One of them called Napoleon reached its destination—a distance of three hundred miles—at twenty-four minutes past ten the same morning, having thus accomplished its journey in five hours and fifty minutes, being at the rate of forty-five miles an hour.” About the same period “Mr. Atwood made a bet of one hundred pounds that he would fly six pigeons from the high ground near Crostwick, in Norfolk, one hundred and fourteen miles, and that one should arrive at his loft im the Sanctuary, St. George’s Fields, within four hours and a‘ half.” Folks of the present generation, however, are too wise to cast hundreds of pounds to the mercy of the winds—at least as regards pigeons. It is seldom now that they are made the subjects of wholesale wagering, though a briskish business is still carried on in low neighbourhoods, the stakes ranging from half-a-crown to five pounds. Bethnal Green is the head-quarters of the London “ Fancy.” There is a long straggling street there known as Hare-street, and it is no exaggeration to say that the roofs of at least two- thirds of the houses are decorated with a dormer, and equally true that, protruding from almost every trap-door appertaining thereto, is the shock-head and the ragged shoulders of some dirty idle scamp whistling through his fingers, or “ hishing” and shouting while he waves a long wand with a rag tied to the end. The pigeons most favourite for match-flying among the vulgar “fancy” are known by the uneuphonious name of “ skin- nems,” and are a cross-breed between the dragon and the tumbler. The “skinnem” is not a respectable-looking bird. With the litheness of the carrier, he possesses none of that graceful bird’s gentle—not to say aristocratic—mien ; he looks like the disreputable member of a highly respectable ‘family, addicted to pot-houses and evil company, and altogether gone to the bad. 395 PIGEONS. Nor is the “ skinnem’s” a solitary instance of how the brute creution may be influenced, their very natures and complexions perverted, by low human associations. Take the St. Gies’s dog. Is he for a moment to be compared with the dog of St. James’s? Isn’t he a rakish-looking brute, with an insolent curl of the upper lip and an unpleasant scowl? Isn’t he a gutter prowler and a worrier of sheep? Then, again, the costermonger’s dopkey; is he anything like the sleek and decent suburban. animal who draws invalid chaises? It may be argued that stripes and bruises are not calculated to im- prove the personal appearance; but I maintain that stripes and bruises alone would never give to the costermonger’s donkey the air of dissipation, the short pipe and beery ex- pression so peculiar‘to him. Look at the fowl—the cocks and hens of our rookeries! Isn’t the cock always an untidy little wretch, with a ragged comb and spurs broken to splinters ?P How is it possible to believe that a bird of this sort rises and crows at daybreak? Then the hens, the slovenly creatures, with their tail feathers all mud-bedraggled; it may be, cer- tainly, that they are driven to recklessness by their husbands’ misbehaviour, but there is no denying that they one and all look ¢apable of larcenously disposing: of their own eggs and buying barley with the proceeds. So it is with all sorts of song-birds that are trained to sing against each other (espe- cially the chaffinch) for the benefit of their blackguardly mas- ters. And lastly, but by no means least, so it is with the low- neighbourhood sparrows. To my certain knowledge—but, there, everybody knows the saucy scamp the London sparrow is! To return, however, to the subject of pigeon-flying and pigeon-flyers. I had lost some pigeons of a valuable sort from my dormer, and while I was still disconsolate for the same, the postman brought me the following missive :— “Str,—Seein’ the reward as you have offered for some pigins as flowed away from your dormer, I rite to tell you as you might get aint about *em if you cum and brought the reward with you to the Bald Pye Public ’ouse, Bethnal Green, on Sunday night at 8. “Pea Es, Arks for Mr. Stickle.” As requested, I repaired to the “Bald Pye,” and there, through Mr. Stickle’s instrumentality, obtained my strayed pets. I suppose I paid rather more for their recovery than was expected, for Mr. Stickle became suddenly extremely goodnavited, offered to show me his stock, and, finally, in- THE SPORT OF PIGEON-FLYING. formed me that if I took any interest in flying matches, a “ first-rate ” one was coming off in the morning, and that if I liked to come up to his house I was welcome to a seat on the roof thereof to witness the start and the return. The start was a tame affair, and consisted merely of the owners of the pigeons setting out from the “Bald Pye” with their birds, attended by a troop of tattered bird-gamesters, From Highgate-hill home were the terms of the match— “home” being a dormer adjoining Mr. Stickle’s. One of the contending birds belonged to a gentleman named Tinker, the other to “Phil.” Phil what, didn’t transpire. As the time approached at which the birds were expected to return, Mr. Stickle and I mounted his dormer. Presently a triumphant shout from the man on the opposite roof an- nounced the coming of at least one of the birds. “ Here he comes!” roared Mr. Tinker; “ I knows him; here he comes, and the other ain’t no-wheres !” Yes, there he came, fair and promising enough, till he got within a few yards of his home, and then in the coolest and most aggravating way, he settled on a neighbouring chimney stack. “The appearance of Mr. Tinker’s face at this moment was terrible. He fairly champed his teeth together, and wagged his head at the refractory ‘skinnem’ till his hair was like a trundled mop. He clenched his great fists, and sparred at the little pigeon, as though it werea man. Finally, as the shout- ing of Phil’s friends smote his ears, ‘ Here comes Phil’s ! Phew- phew-whew-whew! here she comes!’ he caught up a brick that was lying handy, and flung it at the ‘skinnem’ with all his might. “The cruel act was more successful in its results than he deserved it should have been. The ‘skinnem’ rose to avoid the missile, wheeled round, and then settled within a foot of My. Tinker’s head. “ Grabbing at it eagerly, that gentleman disappeared down the trap ; and the next moment, peeping over the coping of the house, we saw him skimming down the street, the pigeon in his cap, and the cap in his mouth, and his long coat tail spread abroad like wings. At the same moment, Philip, with his cap in his hand, dodged out of a side street. Tinker, however, had the advantage, and spurred to his utmost speed by the sight of his approaching rival, he dashed over the threshold of the Bald Pye, winning the match by rather more than two seconds.” 397 PIGEONS. PIGEON CATCHING IN THE PYRENEES. Once, while the late Angus B. Reach was travelling in the south of France, he had an opportunity of witnessing, if not the actual performance of pigeon-catching by the professional catchers, a clear insight into the way in which the business was managed. He thus describes it :— “Stretching manfully uphill, by a path like the bed of a muddy torrent, I was rewarded by a watery blink of sunshine. Then the wind began to blow, and vast rolling masses of mist to move before it. At length, however, I reached the Palombiére, situated upon the ridge of the hill, which cost a good hour and a half’s climb. Here grow a long row of fine old trees, and on the northern side rise two or three very high, mast-like poles of liberty, notched so as to allow a boy, as supple and as sure- footed as a monkey, to climb to the top, and ensconce himself in a sort of cage, like the ‘crow’s nest’ which whalers carry at their mast heads for the look-out. “T found the fowlers gathered in a hovel at the foot of a tree; they said the wind was too high for the pigeons to be abroad; but for a couple of francs they offered to make believe that a flock was coming, and show me the process of catching. The bargain made, away went one of the urchins up the bending pole into the crow’s nest, a feat which I have a great notion the smartest topman in all her Majesty’s navy would have shirked, considering that there were neither foot-ropes nor man- ropes to hold on by. ‘Then, on certain cords being pulled, a whole screen of net rose from tree to tree, so that all passage through the row was blocked. “** Now,’ said the chief pigeon catcher, ‘the birds at this season come flying from the north to go to Spain, and they keep near the tops of the hills. Well, suppose a flock coming now; they see the trees, and will fly over them—if it wasn’t for the pigeoneer’ (pigeonier). «The pigeoneer ! what is that P’ “«We're going to show you,’ and he shouted to the boy in the crow’s nest, ‘Now, Jacques!’ “Up immediately sprang the urchin, shouting like a pos- sessed person, waving his arms, and at length launching into the air a missile which made an odd series of eccentric flights, like a bird in a fit. “That is the pigeoneer,’ said the fowler; ‘it breaks the flight of = birds, and they sweep down and dash between the THE PIGEON-HOUSE, trees—so.’ He gave a tug to a short cord, and immediately the wall of nets, which was balanced with great stones, fell in a mass to the F ground. “* Monsieur will be good enough to imagine that the birds are fiut- tering in the meshes.’ ” THE PIGEON-HOUSE. If the number of pigeons you intend keeping be but few, say ten or a dozen, a very good habitation may be constructed by securely fixing a light flour barrel on the end of a stout pole You can hardly have the pole too high, but very good shift may be made with one measuring twenty-five feet, which will allow of six or seven feet of the stout end being sunk in the ground. Stout rails of beeth should be nailed at intervals of nine inches to the summit of the pole, projecting six inches on either side so asto formaladder. Securely fixed to’ the top of the pole, and pendant on either side of it to the ground, should bea substantial ropeto make ascent and descent more easy. A much more secure and easy way, however, and one less likely to lead to awkward tumbling, is to have a capacious tube, say a sufficient length of ironing-stove pipe run through the length of the barrel, so that it will slide easily up and down the sup- porting pole. Across the top of the pole should be screwed a cross piece, to each end of which must be attached a pulley. A rope passes over each pulley and is attached to each side of the barrel by a staple. By this means the barrel may be easily hauled up or lowered at pleasure. 300 PIGEONS Every pigeon, male and female, must have a separate apart- ment. Without this precaution your pigeon tower will be a very tower of Babel, rife with anarchy and confusion. Hggs will be smashed and infant “ squeakers” (as baby pigeons are called) trodden under foot. So that if your pigeon-house is| designed for twelve lodgers, it must be divided into twelve com- partments. It is as well to fix a small tin hood above the doorway of each chamber as a security against inclement wea- ther. The barrel should stand on a platform eighteen inches wide, and the whole should be painted white. This is especi- ally important, because you thus provide your young and inexperienced birds with a conspicuous mark to direct their homeward flight. Even your old birds may be glad of such a beacon should they happen to be out in one of those sudden glooms which sometimes precede violent stotms. The white of zinc paint is the most durable and brilliant. Once a month at least the separate chambers should be lime-washed. If it is your intention to keep a large number of pigeons (and it is a well-known fact, that he who has a large number is much more likely to keep them than he who possesses but a few) the space afforded by a barrel will be of little use. You will require a loft, or a house specially built for the purpose. The attic of a lofty house makes a capital pigeon-loft, especi- ally if the window be in the roof, or if in the side wall opening towards the south. Even in this case you must not forget the necessity of a beacon,—the nearest gable or chimney-stack should be frequently whitewashed. Bear in mind, likewise, that much light is not vitally important to pigeons, it being their nature to prefer gloomy and solitary places. Outside the window, and hinged to the window ledge, you should have a moveable flap capable of covering the aperture (made by opening the window, or taking it out altogether) when it is pulled up, and of forming a platform parallel with the window ledge when it is let down. This flap should be painted white. The trap-string attached to the outer edge of the trap, should pass through the top of the window frame into the room. Inside the chamber, and covering half the window,—that is, covering the space created by raising the lower half of the sash,—a square box should be fixed. At the back of the box are two or three holes to admit the pigeons into the chamber, and each hole is so covered on the outer side by a hinged lath as to easily yield to the bird’s endeavours to join his minute in the chamber, but to entirely prevent him THE PIGEON-HOUSE. passing out of the window again without his master’s assist- dance. For your guidance as to the proper arrangement of the pigeon-loft for breeding purposes, I will give you the opinion of a sound and experienced writer on the subject. “You may erect shelves of about twenty inches broad for breeding-places, allowing eighteen inches’ between shelf and shelf, that pouters may not be under the necessity of stooping for want of height; for in that case they would contract a habit of playing low, which spoils their carriage. In these shelves partitions should be fixed at about three feet distance, making a blind by a board nailed against the front on each side of every partition, which will make two nests in the extent of every three feet; and the pigeons will not be liable to be dis- turbed, as they will then sit in private. Some fix a low parti- tion between each nest, which prevents the young ones from running to the hen sitting at the other end, and thereby cooling her eggs; for in breeding-time, when the young ones are about a fortnight or three weeks old, the hen, if a good breeder, will lay again, and leave the care of the young ones to the cock. Others let them breed in partitions entirely open in front, for the greater convenience of cleaning out their nests. I find by experience that nests made on the floor are much more conve- nient than otherwise, if the loft will admit of it, for it prevents the young ones from failing out of their nests,—which sometimes breaks a leg, and very often lames them,—and gives them a chance of being fed by other pigeons as well as their parents, which frequently happens. “In every nest there should be placed a straw basket or earthen pan that has not been glazed, which prevents the straw from slipping about. The size of the pan must be in propor- tion to the pigeons you breed. For instance, a pan fit for a tumbler or other small pigeon should be about three inches high and eight inches over the top, and sloping to the bottom like a washhand-basin, and that in proportion for other larger pigeons, remembering to put a brick close to the pan, that they may with greater safety get upon their eggs; and by means of this pan the eggs are not only prevented from rolling out of the nest, but your young pigeons from being handled when you choose to look at them, which often puts them into a scouring.” Extreme cleanliness is absolutely necessary to the health— aay to the very existence of the pigeons. They possess remark- able warmth of body, so that, if you allow dirt of any kind to 26 i PIGEONS. accumulate on or near them, sickness will be the inevitable result. Sweep out their house every morning, an‘ at least twice a week garnish the floor with some bright sifted gravel. Don’t forget that first essential in all households—ciean water ! Let them have a broad shallow pan full of it, and let the pan be replenished every morning. In the hottest summer months twice a day will not be a bit too frequent. This will entail some little trouble, of course, but the pigeon keeper will find himself amply compensated if he will take the pains to watch through a chink, and see the grateful little creatures washing and pluming and plunging about in their refreshing bath. Besides this, they will require a constant supply to drink, and to guard against its becoming fouled by their excrement (as would speedily be the case if the water was contained in an uncovered vessel) a little ingenuity is necessary. No end of elaborate and expensive vessels have been invented, but the following will be found more thoroughly effective than any one of them, and certainly least expensive. Procure a big bottle with a longish neck, and an ordinary garden-pot saucer of a small size; fill the bottle to the brim, cork it up, and then suspend it in a convenient corner, mouth downwards, and with the nozzle of the bottle in the saucer, and within an inch of the bottom of it, half fill the saucer with water, and take the cork out of the bottle; you will find, that, replenished from the bottle, the saucer will be always full, but will never run over. Mr. B. P. Brent gives the following instructions for the con- struction of an excellent pigeon-house for common pigeons and toys :— The end of the roof of a barn, stable, granary, or dwell- ing-house, is equally available for the purpose. The entrance for the pigeons should be towards the south, south-west, or south-east ; and, whether situated on the roof, or at the end of the building, must be well secnred against the inroads of cats or rats. 1t should have some device by which the pigeons can be shut in when necessary ; for instance, when the entrance is through a number of pigeon-holes, then a wired, or latticed frame, should let down in front, on hinges, by a string and pulley. If it is through a window, or opening in the wall or roof, a small platform, or alighting board, should be placed outside, and a lattice-door may be made to pull up, and close the space, so as to secure all the pigeons in the loft and yet admit light. The floor of the loft must be well secured, to prevent rats or mice getting in; and a door, well fitted, for the same reason, is SeCReeae y to enter the loft to inspect the birds or HOW TO STOCK THE PIGEON-HOUSE, take the young ones. Nest places may be arranged all round, against the upright walls, by nailing up boards eight or nine inches wide, like shelves, fifteen inches above each other, and dividing these by partitions at every three feet, and nailing a board up in front at each end of these divisions, so as to form a recess at each end for the nests. A small slip of wood, running from back to front, completes the nests, which are thus divided into pairs; or, failing the upright walls, boards may be nailed along the rafters, like shelves, one over the other. Small pieces of board should be nailed in behind, between the rafters, and a long slip in front of the board; thus converting the shelf into a sort of trough, which can be divided into nests ele nailing an upright piece of board against each r Sid A bag-net, on a short pole, something like a landing-net, is also very useful for catching the pigeons, if their loft is large. HOW TO STOCK THE PIGEON-HOUSE. In the first place, avoid purchasing old birds. They may be more immediately valuable on the score of breeding, but as a set off to this advantage it is almost ten to one that their first flight from your dormer will be their last. True, by plucking out their larger quill feathers they may be induced to “ haunt,” or accommodate themselves to their new abode, on much the same principle as that you may induce the most wrong-headed dog to stay with you if you chop one of his legs off! Such barbarity, however, is not to my taste, aud, I am quite sure, not to the tastes of my readers. Besides, I much doubt if this wing-maiming process is at all conducive to security. Beyond a doubt, the pigeon is possessed of at least average sagacity, and it is only natural to conclude that its horror of the perpetrator of the outrage will survive even after its ill effects have ceased, and that the first work of the pigeon’s healed wings will be to carry him far away from the torture- house. Apart from the humane view of the subject, wing clipping is otherwise objectionable. You reduce him at once from a handsome bird to a scare-crow. Nor is this all. You will discover when the moulting period arrives, that the ugly stumps will cling with unnatural tenacity to the skin, and if not im- mediately observed and rectified, inflammation, mortification, and death will rapidly follow each other. 3 PIGEONS, It is advisable, therefore, to purchase “squeakers,” that is, pigeons that are from a month to five or six weeks old, ‘be- fore which latter time they will have attained but little strength of wing. They begin to peck for themselves when they are five or six weeks old, and the sooner after that they come into your keeping the greater will be your chance of keeping them. Until, however, you are sure the pairs have really mated—un- til, indeed, they have laid their first eggs, it would be unsafe to trust them abroad. They would almost surely be inveigled away by the knowing old pigeons of the neighbourhood. To distinguish the sexes during squeakerhood is rather a difficult matter to a new hand. In half a dozen birds, of the same age, the cocks may be known by their superior size, and the female squeaker has a more prolonged squeak than her male companion. The sorts to be selected entirely depends on the taste of the keeper. If amusement be his only aim, then he should pur- chase tumblers. If he be determined to have none but highly respectable and graceful birds about his premises, he should buy archangels, or nuns, or owls. If profit be the sole consi- deration, then, I unhesitatingly, recommend runts. They are neither handsome nor good flyers, but they are wonderfully prolific, and substantial fellows for the spit or pie. They, how- ever, are careless of their eggs, so that it is as well to turn their embryo progeny over to a careful nurse—the dragoon for instance. But there can be no doubt that to start with the cheapest and commonest sorts is the best plan. If they abscond, the loss will be but trifling, and if they stay with you a month or so, not only will you have a better chance of retaining any of the more valuable sorts you may afterwards introduce, but the old lodgers will be useful as egg hatchers to their aristocratic neigh- bours should such service be required. The best time to begin to found a colony is about July, as pigeons are then cheapest. PAIRING AND BREEDING. When your squeakers have reached six months, you may “put them up for breeding;” that is, you must enclose the pair—the cock and hen—in a cage, out of sight of any other pigeon. At the expiration of two days you may give them their liberty again. For a few days after this, the newly-married couple will give their quinds solely to enjoyment, keeping always together, PAIRING AND BREEDING. end disporting themselves according to their natures. Pre- sently, however, they will grow more sedate, and the hen will set about egg-laying. First she lays one, which she keeps faithful guard over, and next day she lays the other—always two, never more nor less. At this period no husband is more faithful than the he- pigeon. He feeds his hen while she is sitting; he fills his crop with water, and from it she quenches her thirst. Towarda the middle of the day she goes abroad for necessary air and exercise, while he contentedly cuddles the promising eggs be- neath him. If, indeed, she should prove so callous a mother as to think more of taking her pleasure than hatching her eggs, father pigeon will meekly keep his seat, and comfort the eggs till the shells burst and the chicks emerge. This will occur at the expiration of seventeen days from the laying of the second egg. On this point, as well as on another equally important, writers of pigeon books seem agreed to countenance a delusion. One author, whose information in all other particulars is tolerably correct, confidently asserts that the hatching will take place on the twentieth day from the laying of the second egg. Several others, with equal gravity, tell us that exactly nineteen days must transpire between the second laying and the birth, whereas the truth is—and every- body that has kept as few as half-a-dozen pigeons must be aware of it—that seventeen days, within a few hours, is the invariable time consumed by incubation. Again, trusting entirely to information and instruction de- rived from writers whom, we presume, to be perfect masters of the subject, the amateur is subject to great disappointment as regards the number of hatchings he may reasonably expect in the course of a year. He is told that by proper management “ he may raise as many as twelve broods in a single year.” With all due deference to those who make the assertion, I declare that they are utterly mistaken. With proper management, if you are very lucky, you may count on a hatching once in every six weeks through the year, which will give you nime hatchings in the twelve months. Even this, however, is the exception and not the rule, and I should advise my readers to rest contented if they are enabled to raise seven broods in the time. The writers in question would have been nearer truth if they had declared that a hatching or two more than usual might be obtained by improper management, that is, by stuffing the poor birds during the chilly months with hemp-seed. They certainly PIGEONS. may breed the faster for this treatment, and if the pigeon: keeper does not object to see his birds afflicted with unsightly skin disease, and liable to sudden death, I will guarantee them at least two more broods a year than their neighbours. One chick will be hatched six or eight hours before the other. I know of nothing so perfectly helpless as a baby pigeon. They have just sufficient instinct to hold up their ttle naked heads and wave it about feebly in search of the mother’s bill, and that is all. During the last few days of sitting, the crops of both male and female pigeon gradually fill with “soft meat,” or, as it might with propriety be termed, milk—pigeon’s milk! Al- though not a marketable commodity, we have the authority of Doctor Hunter that there really is such a liquid as pigeon’s milk. The learned doctor says, “I have, in my inquiries concerning the various modes in which young animals are nourished, discovered that all the dove-kind are endowed with a similar power. The young pigeon, like the young quad- ruped, till it is capable of digesting the common food of its kind, is fed with a substance, secreted for that purpose, by the parent animal; not as in the mammalia, by the female alone, but also by the male, which, perhaps, furnishes the nourish- ment in a degree more abundant. It is a common property of birds, that both male and female are equally employed in hatching and feeding their young im the second stage; but this mode of nourishment, by means of a substance secreted in their own bodies, is peculiar to certain kinds, and is carried on in the crop. Whatever may be the consistence of this substance when just secreted, it must probably soon be coagu- lated into a granulated white curd, for in such a form I have always found it in the crop; and if an old pigeon is killed, just as the young ones are hatched, the crop will be found as above described, and in its cavity pieces of white curd mixed with some of the common food of the pigeon. If we allow either of the parents to feed the young, its crop, when examined, will be discovered to contain the same curdled sub-j stance, which passes thence into the stomach, where it is to be digested. “The young pigeon is fed for some time with this substance alone, and about the third day, some of the common food is found mitigled with it; and as the pigeon grows older, the proportion of common food is increased; so that by the time it is seven, . eight, or nine days old, the secretion of the curd PAIRING AND BREEDING. ceases in the old ones. It is a curious fact, that the parent pigeon has at first the power to throw up this curd without any mixture of common food, although afterwards both are thrown up according to the proportion required for the young ones. I have called this substance curd, not as being literally so, but as resembling that more than anything I know. It may, however, have a greater resemblance to curd than we are, perhaps, aware of; for neither this secretion, nor the curd from which the whey has been pressed, seems to contain any sugar, and does not run into acetous fermentation. The pro- perty of coagulating is confined to the substance itself, as it produces no such effect when mixed with milk.” It is to be hoped, after this explanation, that big stupids will, in future, cease to send little stupids on that venerable first-of-April errand, “a pen’orth of pigeon’s milk.” Inserting their own beaks into those of their infants, the parent pigeons proceed to pacify the hungry little maws with this nourishment ;—pure, for the first five or six days, and then gradually amalgamated with hard food, until their stomachs grow strong enough to digest whole grains. If the chicks, from some unhappy accident, should be left orphans, you may—if you are not over-delicate—rear them by hand, or rather by mouth! This may be done by manu- facturing a pap of beans or corn by grinding it up with your teeth, and then taking the squab’s beak between your lips and letting him feed. I don’t know what my readers will think of this, but my deliberate opinion is that it is extremely nasty, and I would see the most valuable squab, that ever was born, dead, and buried in a pasty, before I would wet-nurse him in the way above described. If the squab should die, it will be necessary to provide the old birds with, at least, one belonging to a neighbour, other- wise, the nourishment in their crops will turn sour and make them ill. If, however, a strange squab is not at hand, the next best thing is to keep the bereaved parents on the wing as much as possible, supply them, when at home, with a mix- ture of bread crumbs and salt, and strew their house with good sharp gravel, Sometimes the new-born bird will not have sufficient strength to break entirely from the shell: you may, in such a case, gently assist him with some convenient instrument—say the blade of an ivory paper-knife. Should both parents chance to desert their eggs, you may throw them away cle the expi- PIGEONS. ration of thirty hours, as by that time they will certainly have become spoiled. Tf from any accident or caprice, the hen should one day fly off and not return to her mate, you had best not let more than two days elapse before you supply the bereaved husband with a fresh spouse; otherwise he will set off in search of his lost partner, and, probably, never return. If it is the cock-bird who mysteriously vanishes, you need not be so much alarmed ; the mourning of the widowed pigeon will be but of short duration ; she will lay wait for the first flock that comes along, make love to some good-looking single male, and at once in- vite him home. Instances are on record, of wild male-pigeons being enticed into bondage after this fashion. FEEDING. The staple of their food should be gray peas. They will, however, thrive well on wheat, or oats, or barley, separately or mixed. The smallest of beans, known as pigeon’s beans, may also be given, but I should prefer to mix it with some milder grain. Care should be taken that the pigeon- beans are not newer than a year old, or they will scour the birds. Seeds are sometimes given as stimulants, and many use hemp-seed for the purpose. Rape-seed is, however, far preferable. Hemp-seed is of an exceedingly heating nature, and apt to induce skin disease. Equal care should be taken that whatever food you give them is not decayed, and full of mites. If you have the least doubt on the subject, bake the suspected grain for half an hour. Mites swallowed alive and vemaining alive in the stomach have destroyed many a bird. On this subject of pigeon diet, a reliable authority states, “Green food may be provided for pigeons, that do not have their liberty, in the form of lettuce; or salad may be sown in troughs, or boxes, for them to peck off; any smooth-leaved greens will be relished, but it requires to be fast or fixed, to enable them to pick little pieces out. Cress, rape-seed, or any of the cabbage tribe, may thus be sown for the pigeons. The dovehouse pigeons are usually fed in the poultry-yard; and the fancy pigeons, that are not to fly out, are fed from the hopper in their aviary, to which they always have free accoss. The same plan is usually adopted in lofts; but where other kinds are kept in pigeon-houses, or lockers, it is usual to call them by a whistle, or some other known signal, to be fed at game quiet apot t near at hand; and on account of the fondness FEEDING. of the birds for a young salad, not so much as food, but simply as a relish, I would advise the amateur not to entice them into the kitchen garden, or they may cause annoyance among the young crops. “There is hardly any kind of grain or corn which pigeons will refuse, but their preference seems to be given to bsmp- seed over every other ; yet too much of it is injurious to them ; and it has been found, in Germany, that, after the linseed harvest, pigeons are frequently ill, and die of diarrhcea.. “ Although pigeons are granivorous birds, yet they will eat, and apparently enjoy, an occasional change of boiled potatoes, soaked bread, and bacon or ham fat, cut in small pieces; and there is a particular grub, or larva, which they find in old pastures, and eat when other food is scarce.” Pigeons are wonderfully fond of powerful odours, and, pro- vided it is powerful, they are by no means particular as to its quality. Sprinkle their floor with lavender or assafcetida, and they will appreciate one equally with the other. It is reckoned a good plan to scent a pigeon-house previous to stocking it. I am aware it will be accounted rank heresy amongst the “ fancy,” but I really cannot help speaking my mind concerning that abomination, the “salt cat.’ Ask nine-tenths of the most experienced pigeon-keepers, and they will tell you that without the “cat” luck will not abide in the dormer. Does the reader know how a “ cat” is manufactured ? I will tell him. You take half a peck each of brick-rubbish, gravel, and stiff clay, and add a quarter of a pound of anise-seed, and as much salt- petre. You put this mixture into a tub, and add sufficient stale chamber-ley to work it into mortar. This odoriferous compound you put into old pots and kettles, and stick about your loft! Ignorant and nasty fanciers will tell you that a better “cat” still is, a goat’s head, stuffed with salt and hemp-seed and anise, and boiled in urine! The simple fact is, it is necessary to the pigeon’s health that he should be well supplied with lime and salt, and it is on these ingredients alone that the entire “ cat.” rests its claim for admittance into the pigeon loft. For all practical purposes, it will be sufficient to have in one corner a box containing old mortar, and in another corner a pan filled with nine parts common salt and one part saltpetre. It does not always do to follow “ good old customs.” In the time of our grandfather’s father, the salt cat was a real cat, baked with salt and various Bpices ! P 400 PIGEONS. To fatten young pigeons, the reader cannot do better than follow the following advice, given by a clever naturalist. “When the squabs are about eighteen or nineteen days old, and their wing-feathers begin to sprout, take them out of the dove-house and place them in a nest in another room, covering them with an inverted hamper, which will keep out the light, and yet leave a free passage for the air. It is well known that all animals which are to be fattened artificially ought to be kept in the dark. Have ready a quantity of ‘maize, which has been steeped in water four-and-twenty hours; twice a day, namely, early in the morning, and in the evening before night- fall, take each squeaker out of the nest, open its bill dex- terously, and at each meal cause it to swallow, according to its breed and size, from fifty to eighty and even a hundred grains of steeped maize. Continue this treatment for ten days or a fortnight, and you will have pigeons as fat as the very best poultry. The only difference will be in their colour.” PIGEON PARASITES. Unless the most scrupulous cleanliness be observed there will be bred among your birds’ plumage a host of unpleasant in- sects, of the tick, mite, and flea orders. The most troublesome and common of these pests is the mite. It is the smallest of the pigeons’ parasites, being no larger than grains of poppy- seed, of a black colour, with white streaks over their bodies. It does not seem to be their nabit to infest the bodies of the pigeons constantly, but to hide in the chinks and dark nooks of the nesting-places, and when the unlucky birds retire for the night, then to issue out in myriads and commence their depre- dations, and continue them until they assume a totally different complexion to that worn at starting—being, in fact, red, instead of black and white. Squabs suffer much more than old birds from these predatory little creatures. They get into the ears of squabs, making them lean and miserable, and not unfre- quently causing thew death. Lime wash they defy; mercurial ointment they seem rather to relish. There seems to be no means of killing them, or of stopping their increase, when once they effect a substantial footing. One of the pigeon-wise men I know is compelled to confess that he scarcely knows how to treat them. “Iam not sure,” he says, “that I can offer a perfect cure for their attacks; but a drop of oil on the ears, under the wings, or anywhere else they may appear, will pre- vent their annoying the young ones. Powdered sulphur strewn PIGEON PARASITES in the nests, and dusted among the feathers of the old birds, is the best plan I know of. As a preventive means I would advise cleanliness; stop all cracks and chinks; let the wood- work be planed and painted, and do not give the pigeons hay for nests. Heath and birch-twigs are the best. Washing the walls, painting the woodwork so as to stop all cracks, however minute, and perhaps the addition of powdered sulphur in the lime-wash, may be a good precaution.” Ticks, to my thinking, are even more objectionable than mites, although they are not nearly so plentiful. They grow some- times as large as tares, so that the bird’s depth of feather is insufficient to hide them. They are very quick in their move- ments. They generally infest the head and back of the pigeon. Cleanliness and powdered sulphur are the only effective weapons against them. Feather-lice frequently swarm beneath the vanes of the pigeon’s feathers. They, however, do not seem to cause the bird much inconvenience. Indeed, the theory has been ven- tured, that, so far from being inimical to the bird’s well-doing, they are positive conducers to its comfort. ‘Their food being the down at the quill end of the feathers,” say the advocates of this doctrine, “it seems almost as if they were intended to reduce the warmth of the bird’s covering in summer; for their numbers must be very much decreased at moulting-time by the quantity cast off with the old feathers, and not until spring can they increase sufficiently to thin the warm under-covering of down which in summer is not so necessary for the pigeons as in the cold months of winter.” It is pretty well ascertained, how- ever, that their numbers may at least be thinned by a strict observance of cleanliness; and as cleanliness was never yet proved to be erroneous, the theory is in a slight degree shaken by that fact. DISEASES OF PIGEONS. If properly fed and cleansed and cared for, few birds are less liable to disease thun the pigeon. Their chief ailment is “ canker,” a very ugly disease, attack- ing the head, and causing cheesy-looking and evil-smelling swellings. The disease is attributed to various causes, to im- pure water, to drinking from a tin vessel, to a bad state of blood, and sometimes to the attacks of mites. An excess of food of a fatty nature will be likely to produce canker. The cure is spare diet, plenty of exercise after the excrescence has PIGEONS. been cut away and the place rubbed with caustic. Tt is gene- rally thought to be contagious, so it will be as well to separate a bird so afflicted from the rest as soon as possible. Some pigeons are afflicted with internal weakness, bringing on a disease known to pigeon-breeders as “ gizzard-falling.” This is nearly incurable, so the sooner you get rid of the poor bird the better. If your pigeon should be affected with atrophy, or wasting of flesh, he should be supplied liberally with his most favourite food. A rusty iron nail placed in his drinking-vessel will strengthen his stomach. Birds afflicted with this complaint have usually a large appetite for green food, and uo less an authority than Bechstien asserts that watercress is a certain cure for atrophy. It will sometimes happen that a pigeon will have a difficulty in moulting his wing-feathers. When this is the case, take the bird in your hand, and see if there are anv feather-stumps still clinging in the sockets. If so, extract them tenderly with a small pair of tweezers. THE DOVES. THE TURTLE DOVE. The old proverb concerning the dog, that if you give that animal an ill name you may as well hang him, for all the chance he has of retrieving his character, is no more true than that dogs and birds and even men frequently acquire fair reputation, how no one particularly knows, or cares to inquire, but, like sheep following the bell-wether, steadfastly uphold it, and all because it is a much easier matter to lend your shoulder to a thing already securely upheld, and safe from falling, than to doubt its stability, and to pull and shake at it with no better reward than presently to bring down on you a burden you can scarce stand under. The Turtle Dove is an example of this, and though it is, undoubtedly, a very nice little bird, and one quite worthy to be made a home-pet, there can be little doubt but that its surpassing virtues are better known to poets than to pigeon- breeders. Indeed, I am bound to say, being at the same time very sorry to have to say, that, from inquiry and personal observation, I am convinced that the turtle dove is no more aa DOVES. deserving the respect of mankind than the veriest runt or “ skinnem ” that ever fluttered on a dormer or flavoured a pie. As to its being the type of matrimonial perfection, we have only to recollect for half a moment, and we recall to mind one of ‘the most savage animals that ever wore fangs or talons— the butcher bird ; and again, the ravening eagle; and, once again, the ominous, croaking raven; each of which, as regards constancy and conjugal affection, will bear comparison with the gentlest turtle that ever coo’d. However, as before stated, the present generation are not responsible for the turtle dove’s fame; we find the bird in question pretty and well-behaved, and these surely are credentials sufficient to ensure, at least, a kindly toleration in this rough-and-tumble world to their possessor. It is the smallest of our native doves, and is found throughout temperate Europe and Asia. They arrive in this country about the beginning of May, breed here,and leave again earlyin autumn. They measure about ten or eleven inches in length, and about eighteen inches in breadth from tip to tip of the expanded wings; the beak is long and thin, measuring about three quarters of an inch, and dark horn-coloured ; the coverings of the nostrils reddish-white ; the irides of the eyes a bright orange-red, and the edges of the eyelids form .a reddish thread- like circle round the eyes; the feet and toes are a deep red, and the nails dull black. The general colour of the plumage is a rufous-brown, having an ashen-grey tinge in the male, and varying in depth of colour in different parts of the body; on each side of the neck is a square black spot, some of the feathers forming it have white tips, which give it a pretty chequered appearance; the covert feathers of the wings, too, are black, bordered with rufous-brown, which also add to their beauty; the pinion feathers are dark; the tail long in propor- tion to the bird, the two centre feathers of a rufous-brown colour, the others of a slaty-black, tapped with white, the outer feathers having a white margin; those large white spots form a half- circle on the spread tail as the bird flies; the belly and under tail coverts are white. The young ones do not have the spots on the neck till the first moult, and are more of a uniform brown colour. The slender neck, round, plump form of body, and large tail, give the turtle dove a very elegant appearance. The food of the turtle dove consists chiefly of seeds, such as corn, peas, and rape. In its wild state, it is an exceedingly shy bird, confining itself to the depths of the forest, where it builds a nest on the forked branch of a tree, usually about ten 414 THE RING DOVE. feet. from the ground. Its eggs can but with difficulty be distinguished from those of the wood pigeon, but they are rather more pointed. It seldom produces more than one brood in the year, or more than two young at a brood. It may not be superfluous to add, that the turtle dove must be regarded strictly as a cage bird. It does not seem to be susceptible of that attachment to its home which distinguishes the common or dovecote pigeon, and will almost certainly take advantage of the door of its cage or aviary being left opex to escape, no more to return. THE RING DOVE. This, the largest of our native doves, is also known as the Ring Pigeon, Cushat, Wood- Queen, and Great Wood Pigeon. It is widely dis- seminated throughout Eu- rope, either as a,permanent resident, or as a periodical visitant. Its general plu- mage is of a dark ashy-grey ; on each side of the neck is a half-moon-shaped white spot that nearly encircles the neck, from which circum- stance they derive the name of Ring Dove; across the middle of the wing there is also a white mark, formed by the covert feathers of that part, which are white, so that when the wing is closed the lower edge appears white; the breast has a violet brown tinge; the neck is glossed on the sides, but not so much as is usual with the house pigeons; the flight feathers are a dull black, having a narrow white edge; the tail is dark slate-coloured, having a black bar at the extremity, with a light, ashy-grey band across the centre, on the under side of the feathers; the belly is dull white; the beak is a little more than an inch long, of the same form, but rather stouter than a common pigeon’s, of a delicate flesh colour, and about the nostrils of a red colour, the coverings of which are white; the irides of the eyes are an opaque white or pearl colour; the feet, or shanks, are short, of a dull red, the feathers covermg about half their length; the toes rather long and well adapted for perching; the nails dark horn- coloured ; from the tip of the beak to the end of the tail they OS RING DOVE. DOVE. measure about seventeen inches, and from tip to tip of the expanded wings twenty-nine inches. . Various attempts have been made to domesticate the ring- dove, but hitherto without much success. Not only do they decline to breed with our common pigeons, but it is very rare that they will produce a brood among themselves. After a few weeks’ confinement they appear to be thoroughly tamed, but should an opportunity occur they cannot resist the invi- tation of liberty, and though they may for awhile hover about your premises, will seldom come close enough to be recaptured. THE STOCK DOVE. It would seem that the name given to this bird, and which is derived from the circumstance of its building its nest in the stocks or stumps of trees, has led to the erroneous idea that it is to this bird that the whole tribe of pigeons owe their origin. In size it is about the same as a common pigeon. The beak is about an inch long, dove-shaped, and of a whitish flesh-colour, having a purplish tinge at the nostrils. In the young the beaks are at first dark horn-coloured, but be- come white as they gain maturity; the forehead is full and rounded ; the iris of the eye dark brown; the neck is shorter and thicker in appearance than the common pigeon’s; the shanks are short and dull red, feathered slightly over the hocks; the toes flexible, and the nails black. There are two black spots on the wings, which do not run across the wings in two distinct bars as in most blue house pigeons; the rump is greyish-blue; the tail barred with black at the extremity; and has the light band across the underside of the feathers like the ring-dove; and the marginal edge of the outer tail feathers is not so white as in the tame pigeons; in other respects they differ much from the house-pigeons. If taken from the nest within a fortnight of being hatched it is possible to tame them, but to tame an adult wild stock-dove would be about as easy as domesticating a water-rat. Placed with other pigeons with whom they have been reared from the nest, they will settle comfortably enough till the autumn, and the season for migrating approaches, and then off and away never to return. THE POULTRY YARD, THE DUCK POND, AND THE PIGEON HOUSE. DOMESTIC POULTRY. —1oe—— THEIR STRUCTURE. Unpver the term Domestic Poultry are included three distinct orders of the class Aves. The first is the rasore, or gallina- ceous birds, the type of which is the common fowl. This order is distinguished by having a rounded, heavy body, covered with loose feathers, which sometimes, on the neck and rump, assume the character of plumes or hackles ; by having the wings short, round, and concave underneath. The latter members are by no means so useful for the purpose of locomotion as the legs; for short distances, rasorial birds fly tolerably swift, but, as a rule, are more at home on terra firma. Indeed, the legs of the fowl are well adapted for constant use, being remarkably strong and firm. The thighs are very powerful, and the tendons of the muscles are of an osseous nature. The tarsi, or shanks, are prolonged and stout, and covered with hard scales. In some species, these are armed with a spur—occasionally a 27 a DOMESTIC POULTRY. double spur occurs; in the females, also, the spar often is considerably developed. Of toes, they possess four, one 2f which is seated high up on the tarsus, and Little used in pro-' gression ; the other three are united, at their base by a short membrane, and covered above with scales, the under part being’ protected by hard granulations. The claws are exireme:, hard, and particularly suited to the bird’s mode of living— enabling it to dig and scratch up the earth in search ot its food, which consists principally of seeds, roots, and insects. It may be imagined, from seeing a fowl at rust, that these claws have considerable grasping powers; but in fact they do not hold very tenaciously. The real secret of the fowl resting so securely consists in the nicely-balanced body, which of course greatly facilitates the bird’s equilibrium. In many of the rasores we find the head furnished with naked membranes, taking the form of a comb; also with wattles on the cheeks or over the eyes. The beak is strong ard stout, the base of which, in some species, is surrounded by a naked mem- brane ; in others, the top of the head is provided with a crest of feathers, and sometimes with an helmet. The digestive organs of the gallinaceous birds are very curious, and worthy of particular observation, as success in rearing poultry de- pends greatly upon proper feeding; and this cannot be cor- rectly understood, unless we are acquainted with the character of the organs which receive the food. Many a fowl is lost through the crop becoming over-gorged with grain, through a lamentable ignorance either of its ailment or the cause. When the fowl receives its food, it passes from the cesophagus or gullet into a more extended cavity, which is called the crop, or inglwies ; this is situated near the breast-bone. It is fur- nished with several glands, which exude the mucous and salivary matter used in softening the food. Sometimes this crop will be over-distended with grain, and in such a case a very simple and speedy remedy may be applied. This is merely to cut it open with a sharp penknife, and thus relieve the poor bird, and perform a kind action for Nature, who will speedily heal the wound which you inflict, as the crop is by no means of a sen- sitive character. From the crop the food passes into a narrower portion, scientifically termed ventriculus succenturiatus, the linmg membrane of which is covered with glandular orifices; these are said to pour out a copious secretion of gastric juice into the food in the gizzard, which immediately succeeds the Ronee succenturiatus. This is the most remarkable of the THEIR STRUCTURE. digestive organs—and, in fact, forms a wonderful grinding- mill, The gizzard is composed of numerous powerful muscles, and is lined with a membrane of a tough, leathery nature. The grinding is performed by two large and thick hemisphe- rical muscles, opposed to each other, and working in the same nanner as two millstones; these reduce the grain to a certain consistency, after which the gastric juices take up the dissolving process and finish the digestion of the food. To assist in the grinding, the birds swallow numerous small stones or pebbles; these are, of course, absolutely essential to the existence of fowls. Sir Everard Home, in his “Comparative Anatomy,” makes the following observations on the gizzard of the turkey :— “ When the external form of this organ is first attentively examined, viewing that side which is anterior in the living bird, and on which the two bellies of the muscle and middle are more distinct, there being no other part to obstruct the view, the belly of the muscle on the left side is seen to be larger than on the right. This appears, on reflection, to be of great advantage in producing the necessary motion; for if the two muscles were of equal strength, they must keep a greater de- gree of exertion than is necessary; while in the present case, the principal effect is produced by that of the left side, and a smaller force is used by that on the right to bring the parts back again. “The two bellies of the muscle, by their alternate action, produce two effects,—the one, a constant friction on the con- tents of the cavity; the other, a pressure on them. This last arises from a swelling of the muscle inwards, which readily ex- plains all the instances which have been given by Spallanzani and others, of the force of the gizzard upon substances intro- duced into it—a force which is found by their experiments always to act in an oblique direction. The internal cavity, when opened in this distended state, is found to be of aw oval form, the long diameter being in the line of the body; its capa- city nearly equal to the size of a pullet’s egg ; and on the sides there are ridges in their horny coat (limmg membrane) in the long direction of the oval. “‘ When the horny coat is examined in its internal structure, the fibres of which it is formed are not found in a direction perpendicular to the ligamentous substance behind it; but in the upper portion of the cavity they have a direction obliquely apwards. “From this form of cavity it is evident that no part of the DOMESTIC POULTRY. sides is ever intended to be brought in contact, and that the food is triturated by being mixed with hard bodies, and acted on by the powerful muscles which form the gizzard.” Numerous experiments, some of them not of the most refined nature, have been made to test the extraordinary solvent powers of the gizzard. Spallanzani, Magallo, and other men of science, have administered bullets, stuck over with needles, by way of rendering them digestible, and they have afterwards been found. broken into pieces and partly ground into powder. Other ingenious naturalists have for a time fed their fowls on glass, and even this has been found smoothed and rounded. A more extravagant theorist gave his hen a louis d’or, who returned it him minus some sixteen grains in weight. The same gentleman (utterly disregarding the moral injunction not to cast pearls before swine), also, on another occasion, tried the effect of a fowl swallowing an onyx, and found, in four days, that the bird’s gizzard had diminished the value of his gem one-fourth. Notwithstanding the success of these experiments, I earnestly advise every owner of poultry not to be deluded into trying their innocent hands in any such unprofitable business. Glass is not nearly so good a diet aa barley ! THE ORIGIN OF DOMESTIC FOWL IN BRITAIN. At what period of the world’s history renowned Chanticleer condescended to quit his native wilds and become gallus domes- ticus, no authority, ancient or modern, pretends to declare. It is certain, however, that hens “ clucked” in ancient Rome, and that the crowing of the cock was familiar to the Athenians. Indeed, when Themistocles, the Athenian king, went to war with the Persians, he took advantage of the fighting of two old chickens attached tothe camp, to harangue his troops, with the view of inspiring them with some of the valour of the too-pugna- cious bantams. I wonder what would be the effect, if Field Marshal the Duke of Cambridge were to choose such a subject for haranguing the Scots Fusileers ! He has been a bird of note from the most remote periods, Several allusions are made to him in the Old Scriptures: a most pertinent one, for instance, in Nehemiah, who lived about four hundred and fifty years before Christ. He says:—‘ Now that which was prepared for me daily was one ox and six choice sheep; also fowls were prepared for me.” The ancient Greeks practised divination through the medium of the cocke 420 THEIR ORIGIN IN BRITAIN bird—the process being curiously similar to that observed in the case of the modern Learned Pig. The letters of the alphabet were arranged in a circle; on these were placed a grain of wheat or barley; and a cock, consecrated or provided for the occasion, was placed within the circle. The required information was obtained by placing together those letters from which the bird had pecked the ears of corn. On one occasion, however, a person inimical to priestly interest, officiously examined the grains, and found that those lying on the letters which were not wanted, were made of wax. It is needless to add that, after this, divination—at least through the medium of cocks and grain—fell out of fashion. Only one degree less cruel than cock-fighting, was the an- cient and popular sport of cock-shying. Thank goodness it is an affair of the past, and as every boy knows, anything in these days to be thrown at with a view to dislodging it, is termed a cock-shy. But there was a time when at fairs, and other joyful congregations, a real live fowl, tied by the leg to a stick, was set up as a mark for brutal bipeds to fling at with sticks and stones. It was “a penny a shy ;” and as the poor fright- ened chicken fluttered considerably, it was by no means an easy matter to hit it. He, however, who was able to accom- plish his laudable intention, and struck the bird dead, received the carcass as his reward; if he merely lamed it—broke a leg or a wing, or staved in a few riks, maybe—he received a groat. Good old times ! The only explanation as to the origin of the pastime is to be found in the works of an old German writer named Cranen- stien. He informs us that while the Danes were masters of England, their behaviour to the natives grew so cruel and outrageous that the oppressed Britons formed a conspiracy, and resolved at one stroke to sever the throats of the tyrants and their own bonds. Shrove Tuesday morning was the time appointed for the execution of the sanguinary design. The town-hall was to be entered by stratagem, the guards surprised and slain, the arms appropriated, and then the carnage was to begin, and to be carried out with the utmost neatness and dispatch. They had reckoned, however, without their host, or rather, without the roost, for while they were stealthily ga- thering in the street preparatory to investing the town-hall, the watchful cocks of the neighbourhood were aroused on their perches, and set up such a crowing as speedily awoke the devoted Danes. Thus was the conspiracy frustrated and the al DOMESTIC POULTRY. conspirators made to suffer for their abortive attempt at whole- sale murder. The brave Britons, however, were not to be entirely baulked of their revenge. They treasured up their spite against their dunghill betrayers till the Danes were, in their turn, beaten and made to flee; and then they inaugurated the institution ever after known as “ cock-shying,” and ever after upheld manfully on the anniversary of the betrayal of the conspiracy. For the sake of ancient English valour and chivalry, I hope that the legend has no sounder foundation than the imagination of the old German writer Cranenstien. As to the origin of the introduction of the domestic cock into Britain, we are unable to fix the precise date. When Julius Cesar invaded the country, he found both the goose and fowl in a state of domestication; and they seem to have been held in some kind of religious reverence, as they were forbidden to be eaten. It is common all over the world; and it is very singular that the common fowl, in every way resembling that of our own country, was found domesticated amongst the South Sea Islanders when first Europeans visited them. The Game Cock we seem to owe to the Romans, as there is no instance on record of cock-fighting being practised by the ancient Britons. It is very probable that while the Romans remained in the conquered country, certain of the game breed were sent over for their amusement, and hence cock-fighting became an institution of the country. Several choice breeds were kept by the ancient Greeks, Medians, and Persians. The anecdote of Themistocles, the Athenian king, who flourished two thousand years ago—already given—shows that they were common amongst the Athenians. What he then remarked of the two fighting-cocks in his camp may at the present time be equally applicable to our own specimens of the species. To this day its courage has not degenerated.’ The bird still preserves his bold and elegant gait, and his sparkling eye, while his wedge- shaped beak and cruel spurs are ever ready to support his defiant crow. It is no wonder that the breed is not plentiful; —first, on account of the few eggs laid by the hen; and secondly, from the incurable pugnacity of the chicks. Half. fledged broods may be found blind as bats from fighting, and only waiting for the least glimmer of sight to be at it again. The fighting of cocks, however, survived the practice of “shying ” at them by many years. No barbarism, ancient or modern, was ever more favourite or more universally patronized. 429 THEIR ORIGIN IN BRITAIN. The vostermonger kept his cock, and fought it for a crown against the one owned by his neighbour the sweep; and Lord Noodle kept his cock, and fought it for fifty pounds against my Lord Boodle’s, in the cock-pit at Westminster. The practice was even defended, or at least excused, by writers who, if they will pardon me, ought to have known better. Even that humane and creditable writer, Bonington Mowbray, goes out of his way to admire the ruffianly “sport.” He suys,— “ Philanthropists are in the habit of declaiming much against the practice of cock-pit battles; but, on reflection, the cruelty of that sport will be found to be among the least wherein the feelings of animals are concerned, since fighting, in the game cock, is a natural and irresistible passion, and can never take place against his will, and since those engaged in combat upon the arena would do so voluntarily, and with equal ardour, did they meet in the desert. Another and a similar mistake is the supposed additional cruelty of arming the heels of the cock with steel, which, on the contrary, conduces to shorten the period of their sufferings.” If the first part of Mr. Mowbray’s argument is sound, why then, for the delectation of folk of sanguinary mind, let us revive bull-baiting and dog-fighting, and the imperial Roman pastime of setting tigers and lions by the ears. They are all “animals of irresistible passions.’ Let us even give our countenance to that remaining relic of ancient barbarism, man-fighting. But the argument is not sound. Will the dog worry the bull if not hounded on by his master? Do bears and lions, in private life, continually give their minds to growl- ing and fighting? No. Inspite of Doctor Watts’s testimony to the contrary, I insist it is not so: no more than Mr. Sayers will enter the prize-ring unless a substantial sum is to be his reward for beating his antagonist to jelly. With regard to the desirability of arming the heels of the birds with steel spikes, “because they conduce to shorten the sufferings” of the poor creatures, comment would be an insult to the reader. I have had some conversation lately with a person whose father was a breeder of game cocks, and he assures me that to prepare a bird for the pit the utmost care was required. He was fed on the richest food, made to take so much exercise each day, his limbs were bathed once a day, and his beak sand- papered to needle-like sharpness. He related that on one occasion he was present at a cock-fight at Birmingham, where one celebrated fighting bird was pitted against five others. They 433 DOMESTIC POULTRY. were let at him one at a time, and one at a tine the valorous bird beat four out of his five antagonists. His great exertions, however, left him in a pitiable condition, so that his fifth and last enemy, on entering the pit, found him lying on his side, quite worn out. His pugnacity, however, was by no means subdued. He allowed the new comer to approach, even to flap his wings and crow over his bloodless victory; and then, still prostrate, he struck out with his terrible steel-tipped heel, piercing the brain of his last adversary. The savage stroke, however, cost him his life, and both birds were taken up dead. He likewise told me the terrible story of John Ardesoif, who, in the spring of 1789, fought his game cock, “ Hercules,” against another. Hercules, however, declined to fight, which so infuriated the wicked Ardesoif that he swore a terrible oath to roast the recreant cock alive. He even proceeded to execute his diabolical threat, and, when interfered with, became a raving madman, and fell down dead ! No one will dispute that for beauty, animation, plumage, and courage, the bantam is entitled to rank next to the game- fowl. The bantam is undoubtedly a descendant of the Banksia Jungle-fowl of Java, to which bird it bears a strong resem- blance. In 1608 the English erected a factory at Bantam in Java, which was our first possession in the Hast Indies. While there, the natives brought, and sold to the British, se- veral specimens of the wild-fowl above-mentioned, which were much admired for their liliputian-like elegance, and were sent to England under the appellation of bantam-towl. They soon became great favourites here, and the name, which was at first exclusively given to these birds was, after a time, given to all domestic and dwarf fowls. The choicest sorts are the buff-co- loured, and those that are entirely black. A year-old bantam cock of pure breed will not weigh more than sixteen ounces. Despite its small size, however, _it is marvellously bold, especially in defence of its progeny. A friend of the writer’s, residing at Kensington, possessed a pair of thorough-bred bantams, that’ were allowed the range of a yard where a fierce bull-terrier was kennelled. The hen had chicks ; and, when about three weeks old, one of them strayed into the dog-kennel. The grim beast withiv 424 BLACK BANTAMS, THEIR ORIGIN IN BRITAIN. took no notice of the tiny fledgeling ; but, when the anxious mother ventured in to fetch out the truant, with a growl the dog woke, and nearly snapped her asunder in his great jaws. The cock bird saw the tragic fate of his partner; but, nothing daunted, flew at the dog with a fierce cry, and pecked savagely at its face. The odds, however, were too great; and, when the terrier had sufficiently recovered from the astonishment caused by the sudden and unexpected attack, he seized the au- dacious bantam, and shook him to death; and, in five minutes, the devoted couple were entombed in Pincher’s capacious maw. There are now several varieties of the bantam fowls, many of which are but slight improvements upon the original; and some have certainly degenerated in the attempt to improve the stock. In the selection of these we shall presently give the reader some useful information. The origin of the Dorking Fowl has been the subject of much discussion and controversy. Some supposed that the Poland fowl could lay claim to its parentage; on the other hand, the men of Sussex stoutly maintained that the bird be- longed to them, and that it was a distinct species; and in proof thereof, produced several birds indigenous to their weald, which possessed all the fine points and peculiarities of the Dorking. It takes its name from that of a town in Surrey, and it is commonly believed that this branch of poultry was found at Dorking as long ago as the Roman era. The Brahma Pootra fowl was, it is said, introduced into England, somewhere about nine or ten years ago. Of its origin little or nothing is positively known. It was brought to this country from America, and to the latter country from India. They were brought to New York by some sailors,and immediately created a great sensation, and fetched large prices. Some have reported them to have come from the neighbourhood of the river in India, from which their name is taken; another au- thority states that he saw the birds in Ceylon. When they were first introduced, it was supposed by some to be only another variety of the Cochin-China fowl, but as there is a total dissimilarity between the two, both in their structure and habits, this ill-founded conclusion has been abandoned. Stilt their origin is as much a matter of doubt as formerly. Perhaps, it suffices that the bird is a hardy, useful fowl, and more easily reared than many others, and that its native home is a matter of little consequence so long as we have obtained so important an addition to our domestic poultry. a DOMESTIC POULTRY. Another im portant member of the poultry-yard is the Spanish fc wl, which, us its name indicates, was imported from Spain. He is a proud, gallant-looking bird, and is generally a favourite. The only drawback in rearing these fowls is the delicacy of the young chicks, which renders it necessary to be very careful in bringing them up. There are several varieties of the Spanish fowl, of which we shall presently treat. Of all the breeds of fowls, none has ever created so great an excitement as the Cochin-China. Its introduction te this country was the signal for a mania more closely resembling what might be rather expected of the landing of a French host than of an over-groewn, ill-shaped specimen of poultry. In the year 1846, the first pair that was brought to this country from Shanghai were presented to the Queen, who exhibited them at the Dublin poultry show. Immediately the “ Cochin” furore commenced. As soon as it was discovered, despite the most strenuous efforts to keep the secret, that a certain dealer was poscessed of a pair of these birds, straightway the avenues to that dealer’s shop were blocked by broughams, chariots, and hack-cabs, until the sly poulterer had been tempted by a suffi- ciently high sum to part with his treasures. Bank notes were exchanged for Cochin chicks, and Cochin eggs were in as great demand as though they had been laid by the fabled golden goose. Philosophers, poets, merchants, and sweeps, had alike partook of the mania, and although the latter could hardly come up to the price of a real “ Cochin,” there were plenty of vagabond dealers about, with counterfeit birds of all kinds, which were advertised to be the genuine article, For to such a pitch did the excitement rise, that they who never kept a fowl in their lives, and would hardly know a bantam from a Dorking, puzzled their shallow brains as to the proper place to keep them, and the proper diet to feed them on. An ac- quaintance of mine related to me an anecdote, connected with the “ Cochin” mania, in which the interest of a whole family were involved, and the nicely-balanced order of the household shockingly disturbed by the entrée of one of these formidable birds. In the year 1846 (he says), he was living at the west end of London, with an uncle, a retired merchant, who had amassed a considerable fortune in the opium trade. He was a man of great shrewdness, and one who prided himself on never being “taken in” all his life. He visited the Dublin poultry show that year, and was, in common with others, greatly fascinated THEIR ORIGIN IN BRITAIN. with the appearance of the Cochin-China visitcrs, and he re- solved to have a pair. He had to pay a large price—some- thing like twenty guineas—but the purchase was, not with- out some difficulty, at last made, and the precious treasures conveyed to his residence in a large wicker-basket. The next day the fowl-house was erected by the carpenter, and taken possession of by the two ungainly birds. Prior to this arrange- ment, however, there was a very animated discussion about the propriety of putting them into a fowl-house at all. One mem- ber of the family suggested that perhaps it was a house-bird, and ought to have a cage like a starling or canary; another small branch thought they were to run about the house as the eat or dog, and what a “ lark,” said he, “ it will be with them and ‘ Tim ’ ”—a favourite canine friend of his. Papa’s decisions ultimately ruled all opposition ; there was no doubt they were fowls, and should be treated accordingly. Such was the last bulletin received by the servants; and forthwith a carpenter was engaged to erect the birds a domicile, The next thing to be decided was, who was going to look after them. This was quite as much a subject of discussion in the kitchen as in the parlour ; indeed, to such a pitch did they arrive in the latter quarter, that the servants, one and all, protested against having anything to do with the “ narsety furrin creatures!” and uttered hurried threats of at once leaving the house if they were requested to so demean themselves. My friend says, that just at this critical time, the subject of engaging an extra hand in the capacity of page, was mooted at the breakfast- table one morning, and was, after some little discussion, agreed to. There seemed to be a tacit understanding between his aunt and uncle about this arrangement; it was not so much that a page was required as some one to look after the “Cochins.” Forthwith, a respectable youth was engaged, and the secret of his employment imparted to him. From the very first morning of his arrival, a visible change took place in the birds ;—whether the livery of their keeper (bright blue, with yellow lace and gold buttons,) was offensive to the Cochins, or the behuviour of the page was not of the most amiable kind, my friend says he cannot determine. They grew morose, sullen, and even spiteful; pecked at his hands while giving tkem their food, and one morning fairly knocked him on his back while engaged in cleaning out their house. At last, things grew so bad, that he was obliged to arm himself with a broom whenever he went near them. They would chase him 427 DOMESTIC POULTRY. round and round the garden, and seemed to enjoy the fan mightily. Poor Thomas was oftentimes nearly driven mad with their obstreperous behaviour ; and, says my unmerciful friend, he has often had a hearty laugh at the poor lad’s expense, for very often he wasso hardly pressed by the birds, that he had nothing to do but to stand with his back to the wall and shove them away with the broom. But one day—the birds being unusually wild, and attacking the page in a most furious man- ner—the poor fellow was so frightened that he jumped over the garden wall, and, unfortunately, alighted on a rusty spade on the other side, bruising himself in a most severe manner. After this little episode, my friend’s uncle—hitherto stoically indifferent to his poor page’s sufferings, and blindly enamoured of the beautiful Cochins—was aroused from his apathy, and determined to sell them at once, which he accordingly did, to the unbounded joy and unfeigned pleasure of the wretched Thomas. GAME FOWLS. VARIETIES: THEIR CHOICE AND MANAGEMENT. In the choice of fowls, no inconsiderable amount of knowe ledge of the characters of the different varieties is necessary to insure success to the amateur breeder. From my own expe- rience, and that of the most eminent poultry-keepers, I have attempted to jot down such information as may be found useful in the selection and management of these really useful and ele- gant pets, and moreover, prevent any honest, but ignorant, person becoming amenable to the laws so rigidly enforced by the “Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” through a lamentable misuse of the creatures under their control. The Game Fowr justly claims notice. All breeders are unanimous in their opinion of this splendid species, and good authority says:—‘ It is not only for its pugnacious qualities that the game fowl is to be noticed. It yields to no breed,— nay, perhaps is superior to most in the whiteness and solidity of its flesh ; the hens are excellent layers, and the eggs, though of moderate size only, are remarkable for the delicacy of their flavour. The game cock is very attentive to his female train, and ever ready to do battle in their defence.” Notwithstanding the game varieties advantage in so many points over the rest of the family, one of its noblest traits—its high spirit—is often a source of great trouble and loss to its possessor. Such an announcement as the following, which I found in an old newspaper, is certainly very discouraging to those who are ambitious of keeping fowls. ‘Mr. Johnson, a farmer in the west riding of Yorkshire, and who has a famous breed of the DOMESTIC POULTRY. game fowl, has had the great misfortune to lose his little son, a boy of three years’ old, who was attacked by a game cock, and so severely injured that he died shortly afterwards.” The writer before quoted says:—“ Size is not a point of merit in the game fowl; the cocks weigh three and a half pounds and upwards, and the hens are in proportion. When in good con- dition, the plumage is hard, crisp, close-fitting, and glossy.” Another well-known breeder gives us the following rules to be observed in the selection of this species. Of these fowl, he gays :— The hen’s head should be long, mandible very strong and fairly set in the head, eyes very prominent, neck long and graceful, square shoulders, broad chest, point of wings almost meeting under the tail,—the latter adornment must be close and compact, not carried too erect or loose over the back,— thigh short and muscular, legs long and free from feather, toes well spread, feathers short and hard. These are the points of a good game hen. We now come to her mate, the game cock. Some breeders fancy cne weight and some another; but I pre- fer my stock-bird of about five or six pounds weight. Choose a bird of bold, defiant carriage, of good cvlour, head long and slender, mandible strong, curved and well set in the head, very stout at the base, full breast, round body, broad between the shoulders, and tapering to the tail. In fact, he must resemble the hen in all points, except in colour.” Since the introduction of the bantam into Europe it has ramified into many varieties, none of which are destitute of elegance, while some, indeed, are remarkably beautiful. All are, or ought to be, of small size, but lively and vigorous, exhibiting in their movements both grace and stateliness. The feather-legged bantam is remarkable for the tarsi, or beams of the legs, being plumed to the toes with stiff, long feathers, which brush the ground. Owing, possibly, to the little care taken to preserve this variety from admixture, it is now not frequently seen. Another variety is often red, with a black breast and single dentated comb. The tarsi are smooth, and of a dusky blue. When this sort of bantam is pure, it yields in courage and spirit to none, and is, in fact, a game-fowl in miniature, being as beautiful and graceful as it is brave. A pure white bantam, possessing all the qualifications just named, is also bred in the royal aviary at Windsor. Above all bantams is placed the celebrated and beautiful breed called Sir John Sebright’s silver bantams. This breed, which Sir J ohn brought to perfection after years of careful a BANTAMS ; DORKINGS. training, is very small, with unfeathered legs, and a rose comb and short hackles. The plumage is gold or silver, spangled, every feather being of a golden orange, or of a silver white, with a glossy jet-black margin; the cocks have the tail folded like that of the hen, with the sickle feathers shortened straight, or nearly so, and broader than usual. The term hen-cacke is, in consequence, often applied to - them; but, although the sickle feathers are thus modified, no bird possesses higher courage, or a more gallant carriage. The attitude of the cock is, in truth, singularly proud; and he is often seen to bear himself so haughtily, that his head, thrown back as if in disdain, nearly touches the two upper feathers—sickles they can scarcely be called—of his tail. Half-bred birds of this kind are not uncommon, but birds of the pure breed are not to be obtained without trouble and expense; indeed, some time ago, it was almost impossible to procure either a fowl or an egg. “The finest we have ever seen,” says the writer whom we have consulted as to this breed, “were in Sir John’s poultry-yard, adjacent to Turnham-Green Common, in the byroad leading to Acton.” We have already alluded to the mystery which enshrouds the origin of the Dorxine fowl; that we do possess so useful a member of the poultry-yard is, perhaps, sufficient to satisfy most people, without diving into musty records to trace the worthy bird’s pedigree, for the purpose of finding what kind of animal his progeni- tor was. It has good claim J to be considered a gennine §N British bird, and displays its nationality by its great love of liberty. Consequently, it is essential that the keepers of Dorkings must provide a good long rum for the chickens, which must be on clay or gravel soil, but never on wooden or brick floors, If this particular is carefully attended to, the chickens will SEBRIGHT BANTAMS. DOME6TIC POULTRY. thrive and grow well; but otherwise, as they are ~ery delicate, no success with this breed can be attained. The constitution of the Dorking is more incidental to disease than many other varieties, more especially is it subject to croup. The remedy usually prescribed in the Jatter case is to mix the fowl’s food with ale or beer, and a small quantity of cayenne pepper. Of this species there are two kinds,—the white Dorking and the coloured. The former is the favourite bird of old fanciers, and a writer in the Poultry Chronicle makes the following remarks on this breed :—“ The old Dorking, the pure Dorking, the only Dorking, is the White Dorking. It is of good size, compact and plump form, with short neck, short white legs, fine toes, a full comb, a large breast, and a plumage of spotless white. The practice of crossing with a game cock was much in vogue with the old breeders, to improve a worn- out stock (which, however, would have been better accom- plished by procuring a fresh bird of the same kind, but not related) ; this cross shows itself in single combs, loss of a claw, or an occasional red feather, but, what is still more objection-| able, in pale yellow legs, and a yellow circle about the beak, which also indicate a yellowish skin: these, then, are faults to be avoided. As regards size, the white Dorking is gene-| rally inferior to the Sussex fowl (or ‘coloured Dorking’), but in this respect it only requires attention and careful breeding.” Another good authority says,—“I find the white Dorkings hardy—quite as prolific as the coloured: they lay well, and are excellent sitters and mothers.” The coloured Dorking is a handsome bird, and in high esteem at all exhibitions of poultry. Of their breed, the writer before quoted (the champion of the white species) remarks,—‘ To the breeders and admirers of the so-called ‘ coloured Dorkings’ I would say, continue to improve the fowl of your choice, but let him be known by his right title; do not support him on another’s fame, nor yet deny that the rose comb or fifth toe is essential to a Dorking, because your favourites are not constant to those points. The absence of the fifth claw to the Dorking would be a great defect, but to the Sussex fowl (erroneously called a ‘ coloured Dorking’) it is my opinion it would be an improvement, provided the leg did not get longer with the loss.” The real Spanish Fows is recognized by its uniformly black colour, burnished with tints of green; its peculiar white face, and the large development of its comb and wattle. The * BLACK SPANISH : HAMBURGS. hens are excellent layers, and their ees are of a very large size. They are, however, bad nurses; consequently their eggs should be placed in the nest of other varieties to be hatched. The Dorking is the most suitable for this purpose, the hensof thisspecies remain- ing longer with their chicks than any other. “In pur- chasing Spanish fowls,” says an authority, “ blue legs, the entire absence of white or coloured feathers in the plumage, and a large white face, with a very large high comb, which should be erect in the cock, though pendent i in the hens, should be insisted on.” The flesh of this fowl is esteemed; but, from the smallness of its body when compared with that of the Dorking, it is not. placed on an equality with it for the table. Otherwise, however, they are profitable birds, and their hand- some carriage, and striking contrast of colour in the comb, face, and plumage, are a high recommendation to them. For a town fowl, they are, perhaps, better adapted than any other variety. The Hamsure Fow1 is a very useful and important denizen of our poultry-yard. The hen lays nearly every day until the moulting season; hence they have obtained the name of “ ever- lasting layers ;” but they very seldom sit. This, in all proba- bility, is owing to their confined condition in this country, for it is said that when the birds have a free woodland range, they frequently set themselves to the task of incubation with as much diligence as other fowls. Mrs. Blair says,—* If not inter- fered with, like the pheasant, in a fine season the hen will rear all her brood, but like her, is quite dependent on weather. If confined to a yard, I have never found the Hamburgsit ; and their range, even if tes, must be wild, to induce a de- sireto perpetuateher species.” Of this fowl we have three varieties. The first is the Pen- UILLED Hampunre, which is of 3 two colours, golden and sil- SanciEt RD HAM URGA: ver, and is very minutely bs 28 BLACK SPANISH, DOMESTIC POULTRY. marked, The hers of both should have the body clearly pen- cilled across with several bars of black, and the hackle in both sexes should be perfectly free from dark marks. The cocks do not exhibit the pencillings, but are white or brown in the golden or silver birds respectively. Their form is compact, and their attitudes graceful and sprightly. In addition to their common appellative, they are also known in different parts of the country, as chitteprats, creoles, or corals, Bolton bays and grays, and, in some parts of Yorkshire, by the wrong name of Corsican fowls. They are imported in large numbers from Holland, but those bred in this country are greatly superior in size. Of the Spzcx zp, or SpancLeD Hamsure, which is a favourite breed with many persons, there are two kinds—the golden- speckled and the silver-speckled. The general colour of the former is golden, or orange-yellow, each feather having a glossy dark brown or black tip, particularly remarkable on the hackles of the cock and the wing-coverts, and also on the darker feathers of the breast. The female is yellow, or orange-brown, the feathers in like manner being margined with black. The silver- speckled variety is distinguished by the ground colour of the plumage being of a silver-white, with perhaps a tinge of straw- yellow, every feather being margined with glossy black. Both of these varieties are extremely beautiful, the hens laymg freely. First-rate birds command a high price. A third variety is the Brack Hamsure, the plumage of which is a beautiful black with metallic lustre. It possesses the twofold advantage of being a noble-looking bird and an exceeding good layer. On the whole the Hamburg is a capital fowl, and one which is deservedly highly valued. To the young poultry-keeper, I especially recommend this bird; it has a good robust constitution, and the purchaser is pretty sure to get his full equivalent of fowl for the price paid. It is true it is an expensive bird, but the purchase once made, it will cost little more, except for food, and the number of eggs it lays will repay the whole. One »f the greatest favourites of the fowl-keepers, especially those who have an eye to profit rather than to amusement, is the Poranp Fowt. The golden and silver Polands are the handsomest varieties of this bird. The plumage of the first is gold and brown, and the other black and white. The common black Poland is a less interesting-looking bird, but is quite as useful. Of this kind the most extremes are those which are without a comb, and POLANDS : COCHIN CHINAS. possessing a perfectly white tuft on the head. Its great value lies in the number of eggs produced, indeed in many parts they are as well known as “everlasting layers” 4s by their proper name. However, the experienced breeder would take good care to send the eggs of his everlasting layers to market, and not use them for home consumption, as, although they may be as large as those laid by other hens, the amount of nutri- ment contained in them is not nearly so great. Mr. Mowbray once kept an ac- count of the number of eggs produced by this prolifie bird, SPANGLED POLANDS. with the following result :-— From the 25th of October to the 25th of the following September five hens laid 503 eggs; the average weight of each egg was one ounce five drachms, and the total weight of the whole, exclusive of the shells, 503 pounds. Taking the weight of the birds at the fair average of five pounds each, we thus see them pro- ducing within a year double their weight of egg alone; and, supposing every egg to contain a chick, and allowing the chick to grow, in less than eighteen months from the laying of the first egg, two thousand fwe hundred pounds of chicken-meat would be the result. The Poland is easily fattened, and its flesh is generally considered juicier and of richer flavour than most others. As regards the Cocuin Curva Fowt, there is little doubt that it has several very - good qualities, and, in fact, is a useful and important member of the poultry-yard. The same fowl—the same in every respect—that ob- tained so large a share of (4 popular favour on its arrival in this country in 1846, is at the present day the sub- a ject of more ignorant ridi- ‘ ‘als than ever poor bird asia had to bear; and why? simply because the creature was 436 DOMESTIC POULTBY. found to be no better than it should, or nature intended it to be. A writer in the Poultry Chronicle says :— These fowls were sent to provide food for man; by many they are not thought good table-fowls, but, when others fail, if you keep them, you shall never want the luxury of a really new-laid egg on your breakfast-table. The snow may fall, the frost may be thick on your window, when you first look out on a December morning, but your Cochin will provide you eggs. “They are fallen in price because they were unnaturally exalted, but their sun is not eclipsed—they have good qualities and valuable. They shall now be within the reach of all, and will make the delight of many by their domestic habits, which will allow them to be kept where others would be an annoyance.” “They have fallen in value as absurdly as they rose,” says Miss Watts; “but they have been bred so completely with an eye to mere fancy qualities, that it is as difficult to get a really good well-formed cock or hen ag when an absurdly high price was a bar to purchasing. A great hue and cry has been raised against them as fowls for the table, but I believe none have bestowed attention on breeding them with a view to this valuable consideration. Square, eompact, short-legged birds have been neglected for a certain colour of feather, and a broad chest was given up for the wedge- form, at the very time that that was pronounced a fault in the fowl. It is said that yellow-legged fowls are yellow also in the skin, and that white skin and white legs accompany each other, but how pertinaciously the yellow leg of the Cochin is adhered 1o; yet all who have bred them will attest that a little careful breeding would perpetuate white-legged Cochins. Exhibitions are generally excellent, but to this fowl I think they have only been injurious by exaggerating useless and fancy qualities at the expense of those which are solid and useful. Who-would favour, or even sanction, a Dorking in which size and shape, and every property we value in them, was sacrificed to an endeavour to breed to a particular colour? and this is what we have been doing with the Cachin-China.” The Cochin is a very hardy bird and a capital layer, giving us eggs when they are most expensive, and indeed, with regard to new-laid eggs, when they are almost impossible to be got at all. The chickens of such healthy fowls are, of course, easy to rear. A good Cochin should be compact'and large and square-built, with a full chest and broad hinder quarters. In the “ Hen- wife,” a lift work purporting to be a correct accoun of the MALAY: BRAHMA POOTRA, habits of domestic fowls, some useful information is given concerning the Cochin-China. ‘“ From her experience of this species,” the “ Henwife” says, “Cochins ldy regularly, and, if not too highly fed, are productive of very fine chickens. The hens are more exemplary in their maternal duties, and from their abundance of soft and downy feather, are peculiarly adapted for the purpose of hatching. They enjoy the honour of maternity ; their love of this task seems their idiosyncrasy. For them a mother’s joys is ‘ blessed with those sweet cares,’ &c.” From asea of poetryour author again emerges intothe poul- try-yard, and continues :—“ This variety is very hardy, and may be kept in a smaller space than almost any other; cockerels, however, must have ample range, if intended to become superior specimens. It is remarkably. free from liability to any disease, if well provided with green food, which is indispensable. “T consider the Cochin a more beautiful bird, and capable of comparison with the most graceful and high-coloured of our poultry; its exquisite feathering and lovely tints, from the palest buff to deep orange, make this bird peculiarly the lady’s own. “ All must appreciate its massive build, small head, rich, full hackle, and majestic carriage—true types of the high-caste Cochin.” A somewhat rare variety is the Matay Fowt, which possesses many good qualities. It is a large, heavy bird, with long legs, which are stout and firm, enabling their owner to stand very erecb; some specimens of this fowl have been known to measure over three feet in height, and weigh more than ten pounds. Crossed with the Spanish fowl, the Malay produces excellent birds for table. Like the game fowl, it is terribly pugnacious, and in its native home is specially trained for fighting. In captivity, it will assault its companions indis- criminately ; and, it is said, that at exhibitions, “Before the show opens, and even before the judges have performed their duties, the committee are called in to keep the peace; the combatants are separated, and, instead of occupying decorated pens, each fowl, perhaps thrust into a spare pigeon-cage, stands in solitary wretchedness, looking as fowls generally do look after they have been fighting.” The same authority informs us that— “I have heard an amateur relate how he has had his window broken by his Malay cock doing battle with his own reflec- tion.” The Brauma-Poorra has not long been introduced into thia DOMESTIC POULTRY. country, and is found to be one of the most useful and hardiest fowls we possess. It is a good layer, a good setter, and a kind, attentive mother. The following directions, with regard to the choice of this bird, are recommended. The Brahma should be a large and weighty fowl, of a free, majestic bearing, alike removed from the waddle of the Cochin- China and the upright carriage of the Malay ; short in the leg and neck, wide and full in the breast, and wide and deep in make. Legs, yellow and well feathered, but not smothered in fea- thers like the most admired specimens of Covhins. Head, with a slight fulness over the eye, which gives a certain breadth to the top of the head. We admire a full pearl eye; but it is far from common. Tail, short, but otherwise full in size and spread; that of the cock opening into a fan. Comb, either a small single comb, or a pea-comb. The latest species introduced into England is the Srrai Taook, or, Fowl of the Sultan. They arrived here in 1854; and Miss Watts, to whom they were consigned, gives their history as follows :— “ They were sent to me by a friend living at Constantinople, in January, 1854. A year before, we had sent him some Cochin-China fowls, with which he was very much pleased ; and when his son soon after came to England, he said he could send from Turkey some fowls with which I should be pleased. Scraps of information about muffs, and divers beauties and decorations, arrived before the fowls, and led to expectations of something much prettier than the pretty ptar- migan, in which I had always noticed a certain uncertainty in tuft and comb. “In January, they arrived in a steamer chiefly manned by Turks. The voyage had been long and rough; and poor fowls so rolled over and glued into one mass with filth were never seen. Months afterwards, with the aid of one of the first fanciers in the country, we spent an hour in trying to ascer tain whether the feathers of the cock were white or striped, and almost concluded that the last was the true state of the case, although they had been described by our friend as bellis- simi galt bianchi, “T at once saw enough to make me very unwilling to be entirely dependent for the breed on the one sad-looking gentle- man with ae tuft heavy with dirt—dirt for a mantle, and his SULTANS, long clogged tail hanging round on one side. I wrote directly for another importation, especially for a cock, and to ask the name they had at home In answer to the first request, I found that good fowls of the kind are difficult to get there; our friends have ever since been trying to get us two or three more, but cannot succeed either in Constantinople, or other parts of Turkey: the first he can meet with will be sent. With regard to the name, he told us they are called ‘ Sarai- Taéook.’ Serai, as is known by every reader of eastern lore, is the name of the Sultan’s palace; Taook is Turkish for fowl; the simplest translation of this is, ‘ Sultan’s fowls,’ or ‘ fowls of the Sultan ;’ a name which has the double advantage of being the nearest to be found to that by which they have been known in their own country, and of designating the country from which they came. “ Time very soon restored the fowls to perfect health and partial cleanliness ; but it was not until after the moulting- season that they showed themselves as the bellissimi galli bianchi described by our Constantinople friend. “ They rather resemble our white Polands, but with more furnishing, and shorter legs, which are vulture-hocked, and feathered to the toes. “In general habits, they are brisk, and happy-tempered ; but not kept in so easily as Cochin-Chinas. They are very good layers; their eggs are large and white: they are non- sitters, and small eaters. A grass run with them will remain green long after the crop would have been cleared by either Brahmas or Cochins; and, with scattered food, they soon become satisfied, and walk away.” DOMESTIC POULTRY. FEEDING AND FATTENING. A year or so ago, that sound-headed, matter-of-fact lady, Miss Harriet Martineau, presented to the world, through the medium of a popular journal, her experiences of farming on two acres. The poultry-yard comes in for a considerable share of the lady-farmer’s attention, and, as the remarks thereto pertaining are of the most valuable kind, we make no scruple of selecting a few of them for the edification and instruction of our readers :-— “Tt becomes,” she truthfully says, “an interesting wonder every year why the rural cottagers of the United Kingdom do not rear fowls almost universally, seeing how little the cost would be and how great the demand. We import many millions of eggs annually. Why should we import any? After passing dozens of cottages on commous or in lanes in England where the children have nothing to do, and would be glad of pets, you meet a man with gold rings in his ears, who asks you in broken English to buy eggs from the Continent. ‘Wherever there is a cottage family living on potatoes or better fare, and grass growing anywhere near them, it would be worth while to nail up a little pent-house, and make nests of clean straw, and go in for a speculation in eggs and chickens. Seeds, worms, and insects go a great way in feeding poultry in such places; and then there are the small and refuse potatoes from the heap, and the outside cabbage-leaves, and the scraps of all sorts. Very small purchases of broken rice (which is extremely cheap), inferior grain, and mixed meal would do all else that is necessary. There would be probably larger losses from ‘vermin’ than in better guarded places; but these could be well afforded as a mere deduction from considerable gains. It is understood that the keeping of poultry is largely on the increase in the country generally, and even among cottagers; but the prevailing idea is of competition as to races and speci- mens for the poultry-yard, rather than of meeting the demand for eggs and fowls for the table.” The chicks most likely to fatten well are those first hatched im the brood, and those with the shortest legs. Long-legged fowls, as a rule, are by far the most difficult to fatten. The most delicate sort are those which are put up to fatten as soon as the hen forsakes them; for, as says an old writer, “then they will be in fine condition, and full of flesh, which flesh is afterwards 3 expended in the exercise of foraging for food, and in FEEDING AND FATTENING. the increase of stature; and it may be a work of some weeks to recover it,—especially with young cocks.” But whether you take them in hand as chicks, or not till they are older, the three prime rules to be observed are, sound and various food, warmth, and cleanliness. There is nothing that a fatting fowl grows so fastidious about as his water. If water any way foul be offered him, he will not drink it, but sulk with his food, and pine, and you all the while wondering the reason why. Keep them separate, allowing to each bird as much space as you can spare; spread the ground with sharp, sandy gravel; and take care that they are not disturbed. In addition to their regular diet of good corn, make them a cake of ground oats or beans, brown sugar, milk, and mutton suet. Let the cake lie till it is stale, then crumble it, and give each bird a gill-measureful morning and evening. No entire grain should be given to fowls during the time they are fattening; indeed, the seeret of success lies in supplying them with the most nutritious food without stint, and in such a form that their digestive mills shall find no difficulty in grinding it. It would, I think, be a difficult matter to find, among the entire fraternity of fowl-keepers, a dozen whose mode of fatten- ing “stock” is the same. Some say that the grand secret is to give them abundance of saccharine food; others say nothing beats heavy corn steeped in milk; while another breeder, cele- brated in his day, and the recipient of a gold medal from a learned society, says, “ The best method is as follows :—The chickens are to be taken from the hen the night after they are hatched, and fed with eggs hardboiled, chopped, and mixed with crumbs of bread, as larks and other small birds are fed, for the first fortnight; after which give them oatmeal and treacle mixed so as to crumble, of which the chickens are very fond, and thrive so fast that, at the end of two months, they will be as large as full-grown fowls.” Others there are who insist that nothing beats oleaginous diet, and cram their birds with ground oats and suet. But, whatever the course of diet favoured, on one point they seem agreed ; and that is, that, while fattening, the fowls should be kept im the dark. Supposing the reader to be a dealer,—a breeder of gross chicken-meat for the market (against which supposition the chances are ten thousand to one), and beset with as few scruples as generally trouble the huckster, the ad- vice is valuable. “ Laugh and grow fat” is a good maxim enough; but “Sleep and grow fat” is, as is wll known to 441 DOMESTIC FOULTRY. folks ot porcine attributes, a better and more easy of accom- plishment. The poor birds, immured in their dark dun- geons, ignorant that there is light and sunshine abroad, tuck their heads under their wings and make a long night of it; while their digestive organs, having no harder work than to pile up fat, have an easy time enough. But, unless we are mistaken, he who breeds poultry for his own eating, bargains for a more substantial reward than the ques- tionable pleasure of burying his carving-knife in chicken-grease. Tender, delicate, and nutritious flesh is the great aim; and these qualities, I can affirm without fear of contradiction, were never attained by a dungeon-fatted chicken; perpetual gloom and darkness is as incompatible with chicken-life as it is with human. If you wish to be convinced of the absurdity of en- deavouring to thwart Nature’s laws, plant a tuft of grass, or a cabbage-plant, in the darkest corner of your coal-cellar. The plant or the tuft may increase in length and breadth, but its colour will be as wan and pale, almost, as would be your own face under the circumstances. The barn-door fowl is in itself a complete refutation of the cramming and dungeon policy of feeding practised by some. This fowl, which has the common run of the farm-yard, living on dairy-scraps and offal from the stable, begins to grow fat at threshing-time. He has his fill of the finest corn: he has his fill of fresh air and.natural exercise; and at last he comes smoking to the table,—a dish for the gods. In the matter of unnaturally stuffing and confining fowls, Mowbray is exactly of our opinion. He says: “The London chicken-butchers, as they are termed, 7. e., poulterers, are said to be, of all others, the most expeditious and dextrous feeders, putting up a coop of fowls, and making them thoroughly fat within the space of a fortnight; usg much grease, and that perhaps not of the most delicate kind, im the food. In this way I have no boasts to make, having always found it neces- sary to allow a considerable number of weeks for the purpose of making fowls fat in coops. In the common way this busi- ness is often badly managed, fowls being huddled together in a small coop, tearing each other to pieces, instead of enjoying that repose which alone can insure the wished-for object ; irre- gularly fed and cleaned, until they become so stenched and poisoned in their own excrement, that their flesh actually smells and tastes of it when smoking upon the table.” Sussex produces the fattest and largest poultry of any county FEEDING AND FATTENING. in England, and the fatting process there most common is to give them a gruel made of pot liquor and bruised oats, with which are mixed hog’s grease, sugar, and milk. The fowls are kept very warm, and crammed morning and night. They are put into the coop, and kept there two or three days before the cramming begins, and then it is continued for a fortnight, and the birds are sent to market. The lady poultry-breeder before-mentioned summarizes, m an admirable manner, the way in which fowls should be kept by those who are not stinted for space, and who are desirous of deriving profit as well as pleasure from their “ fancy,” as the vulgar phrase is. “The most expensive of all food we find to be barley, au naturel. Not only is a considerable proportion thrown about and wasted, but much that is swallowed is never digested. We, therefore, give it as a change and an indulgence; and by no means as the staple of their food. Indian meal is the best staple, according to our experience. It is well scalded, that the swelling may be done before eating, instead of after, thus avoiding various maladies and perils from over-eatmg. Broken rice, well boiled, is good to a certain extent. Malt-dust is a valuable resource. The demand is becoming so great, that probably it will soon cease to be a cheap food; but while it remains so it is a real boon both to the fowls and their owners. They will eat almost anything that is sprinkled with malt-dust; and a 6s. sack of it goes a long way. A certain proportion of green food, and also of animal food, is indispensable. Lettuce- leaves, turnip-tops, cabbage-leaves, celery, should be thrown tothem. They should have access to grass, to pick seeds and insects ; and it is well to put a fresh sod into the poultry-yard whenever such a valuable thing may be spared. All the worms and insects that come in the gardener’s way should be presented to them ; and when insects are scarce, scraps of raw meat, minced as fine as pin’s heads, should be given. Add finely-chopped eggs for infant chicks, and I think the bill of fare is complete. As for the pepper-corn which old wives recommend as the first thing to be swallowed, we reprobate the notion as we should in the case of any other new-born creature. In fact, it irritates the crop very mischievously if it gives out its savour, and it it does not dissolve it is nothing.” In a strictly business point of view, the results of this management were not particularly brilliant; yet we have nut the least doubt that the majority of poultry keepers—into «a DOMESTIC POULTRY. whose calculations, by-the-by, the question of money gain does not enter very considerably—would be well pleased to have their endeavours so kindly seconded by Dame Fortune. How- ever, we will lay the lady’s “statement of accounts” before the reader, assuring him beforehand that he need not fear the least shadow of exaggeration, and let him judge for himself. “In 1857, we paid for food £17 1s. 8d., and for improve- ments in the hen-house £1 15s.—that is, our expenses were £18 16s.8d.; eggs and fowls used and soldwere worth £18 4s. 2d., ten chickens and one young cock in stock, £1 5s. making £19 9s. 2d.; which shows our profits to have been 12s. 6d. In 1858, the cost of food was £16 8s. 2d., and improvements in stock 11s. 9d., together making £16 9s. 11d.; our profits, therefore, being 10s. 7d. London prices would have enriched us mightily, for we had 3,039 eggs, and killed sixty-three fowls (including a few ducks). Within a dozen miles of the General Post-office, our produce would have been worth £30. But it must be remembered that, in regard to our domestic consump- tion, we have the benefit of the country prices. As it is, we have a balance on the right side, instead of on the wrong, after all accidents and misfortunes are accounted for.” “ Aye, aye,” the desponding reader may exclaim, “ it’s all very well for folks who have luck.” ‘We can, however, assure him for his consolation, that Miss Martineau did not have a superabundance of good fortune with her “ feathered friends.” The cocks ate the ivy leaves, and were found dead and cold; ducklings lost themselvee in the tall grass and perished miser- ably; chicks committed suicide by drowning in shallow water- pans; a hawk haunted the neighbourhood and grew fat on the callow broods; and as to cats—as many as eight chickens were snatched off in a single day by freebooting grimalkins. Indeed, so formidable became this last-mentioned grievance, that the good lady was driven to invent a means of conquering the marauders. As it may be useful to our readers we publish it. ‘“ When a cat is seen to catch a chicken, tie it round her neck and make her wear it for two or three days; fasten it securely, for she will make incredible efforts to get rid of it. Be firm for that time and the cat is cured.” It is probable that the celebrated Mrs. Glasse’s axioms may occur to the reader— First catch your cat!” With her heart hardened by tong persecution, however, Miss Martineau is equal to this difficulty. “Wild, homeless, hungry, ragged, savage cats,” says she, “are more difficult to catch; but they are outlaws, A NIGHT WITH THE CHICKENS. and may be shut,. with the certainty that all neighbours will ba thankful.” Not only for the sake of telling a good story, but further to impress on the reader’s mind that our lady poultry-keeper had not quite “all the luck to herself,” and furthermore to illus- trate the advantage of prompt action in sudden difficulties, we will relate, in Miss Martineau’s own language, a most memo- rable “night with the chickens,” endured by herself and her friend M. , . “My entire poultry-yard, except a few old hens on the perches, was in danger of destruction by an accident one sum- mer night, and was saved by what I cannot but consider a remarkable exercise of energy on the part of my companion M. Few persons in the north of England will ever forget the thunder-storm on the night of the 24th of July, 1859. At eleven p.m. the rain came down in one sheet, instantly flooding the level ground to the depth of more than a foot, and the continuous thunder seemed to crack on one’s very skull, while the blue lightning never intermitted for two seconds for above an hour. The heat was almost intolerable. Our maids, how- ever, who kept very early hours, were sleeping through it all; when M. escorted me (very feeble through illness) upstairs, settled me with my book in my easy chair, and bade me good night. “ Presently I drew up a window-blind to see the lightning better from my seat. In the midst of its blue blazes there was more than once a yellow flicker on the window-frame which I could not understand. I went to look out and saw a yellow light whisking about far below, sometimes in the quarry, and then mounting or descending the terrace steps. It was M. saving the fowls. She would not allow the maids, who were striving enough now, to go straight from their beds into the storm; and she knew it was useless to call the maa from the cottage, who was a mere incumbrance on critical uccasions. In fact, he and his wife were at that moment entirely per- suaded that the end of the world was come. It was no form or speech, but their real conviction; and it could not Lave been asked of them to care about ducks and chickens. The maids were lighting a fire in the back kitchen, and strew- ing the floor with straw, while M was out in dress that could not be spoiled, lantern, basket and apron. Some of the hens and chickens were too cramped to move, sitting in the water. Some were taking refuge in the shrubs. Two duck- “5 DOMESTIC POULTRY. lings were dead, and two more died afterwards. M- went again and again, and to both the poultry-yards, and brought up forty fowls—all that were in danger—every one of which would have been dead before morning. Of course she had not a dry thread about her, nor a dry hair on her head; but the wetting was a, trifle in comparison with the bewildering effects of the thunder and lightning im such a midnight. She did not, however, suffer from it more nor less, and our poultry- yard was saved.” CONCERNING EGGS AND CHICKS. Eggs intended for hatching should be removed as soon as laid, and placed in bran in a dry, cool place. Choose those that are near of a size; and, as a rule, avoid those that are equally thick at both ends,—such, probably, contain a double yolk, and will come to no good. Eggs intended for hatching should never be stored longer than a month, as much less the better. Nine eggs may be placed under a Bantam hen, and as many as fifteen under a Dorking. The odd number is considered preferable, as more easily packed. It will be as well to mark the eggs you give the hen to sit on, so that you may know if she lays any more: if she does, you must remove them ; for, if hatched at all, they would be too late for the brood. If during incubation an egg should be broken, remove it, and take out the remainder, and cleanse them in luke-warm water, or it is probable the sticky nature of the contents of the broken egg will make the others cling to the hen’s feathers ; and they, too, may be fractured. Some hens are very capricious as regards sitting ; they will make a great fuss, and keep pining for the nest, and when they are permitted to take to it, they will sit just long enough to addle the eggs, and then they are off again. The safest way to guard against such annoyance, is to supply the hen with some hard boiled eggs;. if she sits on them a reasonable time, and seems steadily inclined, like a good matron, you may theny give her proper eggs, and let her set about the business in earnest, Sometimes the chick within the shell is unable to break away fiom its prison ; for the white of the egg will occasionally harden in the air to the consistence of joiners’ glue, when the poor chick is in a terrible fix. An able writer says: “ Assistance in hatching must not be rendered prematurely, and thence unne- cessarily, bt only in the case of the chick being plainly unable CONCERNING EGGS AND CHICKs, to release itself; then, indeed, an addition may probably be made to the brood, as great numbers are always lost in this way. The chick makes a circular fracture at the big end of the egg, and a section of about one-third of the length of the shell being separated, delivers the prisoner, provided there is no obstruction from adhesion of the body to the membrane which lines the shell. Between the body of the chick and the mem- brane of the shell there exists a viscous fluid, the white of the egg thickened with the intense heat of incubation, until it becomes a positive glue. When this happens, the feathers stick fast to the shell, and the chicks remain confined, and must perish if not released.” The method of assistance to be rendered to chicks which have a difficulty in releasing themselves from the shell, is to take the egg in the hand, and dipping the finger or a piece of linen rag in warm water, to apply it to the fastened parts until they are loosened by the gluey substance becoming dissolved and separated from the feathers. The chick then being re- turned to the nest, will extricate itself,—a mode generally to be observed, since, if violence were used, it would prove fatal. Nevertheless, breaking the shell may sometimes be necessary ; and separating with the fingers, as gently as may be, the membrane from the feathers, which are still to be moistened as mentioned above, to facilitate the operation. The points of small scissors may be useful, and when there is much resist- ance, as also apparent pain to the bird, the process must be conducted in the gentlest manner, and the shell separated into a number of small pieces. The signs of a need of assistance are the egg being partly pecked and chipped, and the chick discontinuing its efforts for five or six hours. Weakness from cold may disable the chicken from commencing the operation of pecking the shell, which must then be artificially performed with a circular fracture, such as is made by the bird itself. The chicks that are first hatched must be taken from the hen, or she may think her task at an end, and leave the re- maining eggs to spoil. As soon as the young birds are taken from the mother, they must be placed in a basket lined with soft wool or hay, and stood in the sun in the summer, or by the fire if the weather be cold. Jt is a common pactice to cram young chicks with food as soon as they are born. This is qaite unnecessary ; they will, so Jong as they be kept warm, come to no harm if they take no food during the twenty-four hours following their birth. Should any of the brood remain ws DOMESTIC POULTRY. anhatched after that time, those that are born may be fed with bread soaked in milk, and the yolk of hard-boiled egg. When the whole brood is hatched it should be placed along with the mother, under a coop, in a warm, dry spot. If you happen to have two hens at brood at the same time, be sure and keep the respective chicks separate, as if they get mixed the hens will probably maim or destroy those that do not belong to them. After being kept snug beneath the coop for a week, the chicks may be turned loose for an hour or so in the warmest part of the day. They must be gradually weaned from the soaked bread and chopped egg, and boiled barley or groats given instead, and in eight or ten days their stomachs will be strong enough to receive bruised barley, and at the end of three weeks, if your chicks be healthy, they will be able to take care of themselves. It will be well, however, to keep your eye on them a week or so longer as the elder chicks may drive them from their food. Great care should be taken that the very young chicks be prevented from running about the wet ground, or on damp grass. Recollect that this is the most prominent and fatal cause of disease. I should have mentioned, that while under the coop with their mother, they should be provided with a shallow pan or plate of water, as they are very liable to drench themselves and to take cold, if provided with no other drinking vessel than the one proper for the parent bird. FEATHER-LEGGED BANTAMS, THE TURKEY. t Roast turkey is one among the many good things for which the world has to thank Columbus; for, prior to the discovery of America, it was a “dainty dish” that had never been set before even the king. Cynics and misanthropes may curve their profound noses at a man who could waste a word about so trifling av affair; but for that I don’t care. To discard turkey, is to knock away one of the prime buttresses of Christ- mas, and to do damage to that venerated institution is, as every Englishman is prepared to vouch, ultra-paganish, and deserving of the stocks at the very least. T'rifling, indeed! To pacify ten thousand hungry bellies, to make twenty thou- sand eyes twinkle again, is a worthy achievement. Were I a descendant of Columbus, I would insist on adding a turkey to my armorial bearings. : The wild American fellow was, however, of more gigantic stature than is meleagius domesticus—the domestic turkey. The former bird measured five feet from his beak to his tail’s tip; when he spread his wings they covered full six feet of ground. In a “Perfect Description of Virginia,” a quaint volume, printed by hands that two hutidred years ago had gone to dust, we are told the colonists of the new world had “wilde turkies, some weighing sixtie pound weight.” Even at; the present day, they abound in great flocks in the vicinity of! the Ohio and Mississippi, though they either have dwindled in 29 " DOMESTIC POULTRY. size, or else the compiler of the “Perfect Description” told dreadful stories, for all modern travellers agree that the “wilde turkie” is never found to exceed thirty-five pounds in weight Speaking of the habits of the wild turkey, a reliable writer says, “ The males associate in parties of from ten toa hundred, and seek their food apart from the females, which either go about singly with their young, at that time aboat two-thirds grown, or form troops with other females and their families, sometimes to the amount of seventy or eighty. These all avoid the old males, who attack and destroy the young whenever they can by reiterated blows on the skull. “But all parties travel in the same direction, and on foot, unless the hunter’s dog, or a river on their line of march, compels them to take wing. When about to cross a river, they select the highest eminences, that their flight may be more sure, and in such positions they sometimes stay for a day or more, as if in consultation. The males on such occasions gobble obstreperously, strutting with extraordinary importance, as if to animate their companions; and the females and young assume much of the pompous air of the males, and spread their tails as they move silently around. “ At length, having mounted to the top of “he highest trees, the assembled multitude, at the signal-note of their leader, wing their way to the opposite shore. The old and fat birds, contrary to what might be expected, cross without difficulty even. when the river is a mile in width; but the wings of the young and meagre, and of course those who are weak, fre- quently fail them before they have completed their passage, when in they drop and are forced to swim for their lives. This they do cleverly enough, spreading their tails for support, closing their wings, stretching out their necks, and striking out quickly and strongly with their feet. All however do not succeed in such attempts, and the weaker often perish.” Mr. Jesse relates, on what he considers good authority, that in the reign of George the Second a flock of wild turkeys, three thousand strong, formed part of the live stock of Richmond Park. The worthy naturalist tells us that in the autumn and winter they fed on acorns, of which they must have had x considerable supply, since the park was then almost en- tirely wooded with oak, with a thick cover of furze; and that stacks of barley were put up in different places in the park for their support. Considering this liberal arrangement, we are not much Surprised to hear that some of the old cock birds THE TURKEY. attained an enormous weight, as much, indeed, as thirty pounds, These wild turkeys of Richmond, says Mr. Jesse, “ were hunted with dogs, and made to take refuge in the trees, where they were frequently shot by George the Second. I have not been able to learn how long they had been there preserved before his reign, but they were totally destroyed towards the latter end of it, in consequence of the dangers to which the keepers were exposed in protecting them from poachers, with whom they had many bloody fights, being frequently overpowered by them.” Besides the American turkey (from which the bird of modern Leadenhall directly descends), there are two smaller sorts,— one peculiar to Honduras, and the other (the Brush Turkey) to New South Wales. One of the most remarkable circum- stances connected with the economy of the latter bird is that, instead of hatching its own eggs, it constructs an artificial incubator. Having laid fifteen or twenty eggs, it collects a quantity of decaying vegetable matter, and piles it over them, trusting to the heat engendered during decomposition for the production of its progeny. According to Gould, the naturalist, “the heap employed for this purpose is collected by the birds during several weeks previous to the period of laying; it varies in size from two to four cartloads, and is of a perfectly pyra- midal form. The construction of the work is not the task of one pair of birds, but is effected by the united labours of several. The same site appears to me, from the great size and the entire decomposition of the lower part, to be resorted to for several years in succession, the birds adding a fresh supply of materials previous to laying. “The mode in which the material composing these mounds is accumulated is equally singular, the bird never using the beak, but always grasping a quantity in its foot, throwing it back- wards to one common centre, and thus clearing the surface of the ground for a considerable distance so completely, that scarcely a leaf or a blade of grass is left. “The heap being accumulated, and time allowed for sufficien* heat to be engendered, the eggs are deposited, not side by side, as is ordinarily the case, but planted at the distance of nine or twelve inches from each other, and buried at nearly an arm’s depth, perfectly upright, and with the large end upward. They are covered up as they are laid, and allowed to remain till they are hatched.” The same indefatigable explorer was informed by the native inhabitants that it was customary with the hen turkeys to 451 DOMESTIC POULTRY. lurk about in the neighbourhood of the egg-heaps, with the view of assisting the chicks out of the shells as soon as they evince an inclination to break cover. Mr. Gould, however, dis- credits this, grounding his disbelief on the fact that he on one occasion, while turning out one of those egg-stores, discovered the remains of a young bird, evidently recently from the shell. With all due deference to so great an authority, I submit that this evidence is not absolutely conclusive. The mother of the precocious chick might not have known that it was out; and the fact of its being found dead rather favours the suppo- sition that the assistance of a friendly beak is necessary to release them from their imprisonment. We will now consider the turkey in its domestic aspect. Before, however, I say a word as to its feeding and breeding, I would impress on my readers that unless they have an ample piece of land attached to their dwelling, they had best not set up as turkey breeders. It is bad enough for fowls to be cribbed up in cockney “ yards” and wash-houses, but to treat turkeys so is worse than useless, inasmuch as it is cruel. The turkey hen must have room to stretch her long legs. Beware, how- ever, of letting her out of your sight, especially when she has a little family. She is partial to taking long walks, and on she will go, mile after mule, with the greatest complacency, never once turning her head to see how her panting chicks are getting on,—not the least affected even when they squat down on the road and implore her plaintively to come back; not she; on she goes, over common and highway and meadow, as long as a single chick has strength to follow her. This, however, arises from sheer heedlessness, and not from want of affection. She will fight for her brood as valiantly as will the pheasant for hers. She, moreover, preserves her instinc- tive dread of birds of prey in a remarkable way. A friend of mine tells me that on one occasion the turkey-hens in his yard exhibited great fright, screaming, and calling their chicks to them frantically. On looking about for the cause, he dis- covered it in a boy’s kite that was floating high over head. Writing on the same subject, a French naturalist says,“ I have heard a turkey-hen, when at the head of her brood, send forth the most hideous screams, without my being able to perceive the cause; her young ones, however, immediately when the warning was given, skulked under the bushes, the grass, or whatever eise seemed to offer shelter and protection. They even stretched themselves, at full-length, upon the ground, "HE TURKEY. and continued motionless, as if dead. In the mean time, the mother with her eyes directed upwards, continued her cries and screaming as before. On looking up in the direction in which she seemed to gaze, I discovered a black spot, just under the clouds, but was unable at first to distinguish what it was; however, it soon proved to be a bird of prey, though at first at too great a distance to be distinguished. I have seen one of these birds continue in this agitated state, and her whole brood pinned down, as it were, to the ground, for hours toge- ther, whilst their formidable foe has taken his circuits and mounted and hovered directly over their heads. At last, on his disappearing the parent changed her note and sent forth another cry, which in an instant gave life to the whole trem- bling tribe, and they all flocked round her with expressions of pleasure as if conscious of their happy escape from danger.” If you have an obliging neighbour, owning a cock-turkey, and living within a reasonable distance, keep nothing but hens, for it very frequently happens that his lordship will quite lose his patience at the length of time his spouse occupies for in- cubation, and will endeavour to eject her from the nest by main force, and the consequence is that the eggs get broken. According to her size, the turkey-hen will cover from nine to fifteen eggs, and while she is sitting it will be necessary to see that she is well provided with food and water, as, rather than quit her precious charge for a moment, she will almost starve. As soon as the chicks are hatched, they must be taken from the nest and placed in a box, snugly lined with wool or flannel. An old and very general practice, is to plunge them into cold water, on the day of their birth, and to give each a pepper- corn, in a little warm milk. The reason assigned for serving them so is, that of all young birds, they are most likely to take cold, and that this early cold-bath and peppering tends to harden their constitutions ; “and, despite even this precaution,” says an old writer, “the young turkey chicks who perish annually may be reckoned by thousands.” It seems to me, however, to be a question whether the mortality would not be lessened were the “ precaution” avoided. I know that farmers’ wives, to a woman, will look on this suggestion as rank heresy; but I cannot banish from my mind the various tor- tures poultry are made to endure at the hands of these well- Meaning but superstitious dames. For example, there are poultry wives who insist that the proper way to Cue hen of DOMESTIC POULTKY. sitting is to plunge her in cold water; others, to force ker to sit, “thrust a feather through her nostrils, give her half a glass of gin, then swing her round until seemingly dead, and confine her in a pot, during a day or two, leaving her only a small breathing hole.” The hen and her brood must be kept under cover for a month if the weather be very fine, but do not hurry them out at an inclement season of the year. The first food should be barley-meal, kneaded into dough with milk, and eggs boiled hard and chopped. When they are two or three weeks old, boiled beef or mutton, pulled to shreds, may be cast about their feeding ground. A fresh turf daily (be sure it is free from snails and slugs) will be gratefully acknowledged. If the turkey chick should evince symptoms of weakness, or if he should take cold, the best medicine is pounded carraway-seeds. The third day from its birth is reckoned a perilous time for the young turkey, as is the period when they throw out what is called the red-head, which happens when they are six or eight weeks old. At this latter period a few old split beans may, with advantage, be mixed with the‘x food. THE WILD DUOK. THE DUCK. THe duck in its wild state is found throughout Europe, Asia, end America. He is a magnificent fellow, and it is as hard to understand how the symmetry of his shape should have so entirely departed, and his gay coat—green and violet and orange and brown—should have faded to such draggle-tail dinginess as distinguishes the domestic duck of the modern poultry market, as it is to believe that the lithe, long-limbed wild ass of the desert and the donkey belonging to Welter the sweep are of the same family. There are several ingenious modes of capturing the wild duck, peculiar to different parts of the world in which it is found; but the most ingenious is that of the Indians who dwell on the great lake of Maracaibo, on the north coast of South America. A number of calabashes, prepared from the rind of some fruit, and resembling an empty gourd, are always kept floating up and down the lake, on which swarm innumerable quantities of wild ducks. From habit, the ducks take no notice of the calabashes, but allow them to drift in and among their flocks without causing any stir. The Indian then prepares a cala- bash, in which he cuts holes for seeing and breathing, and places it over his head; with this, and a kind of belt round his waist, he starts on his duck-catching expedition. He is almost as used to the water as the birds he is in quest of, and easily steals quietly down towards the flock; and when within as DOMESTIC POULTRY. an arm’s length of a duck, catches it by the leg, and before it has time to utter a solitary “ quack,” he whips it under the surface and hangs it to his belt. And in this way, before a half- hour, our duck-catcher has a full belt, and returns to his com- panions. On another part of the coast there is a similar expe- dient practised, only that the head-piece, instead of bemg a calabash, is a kind of cap, made of rushes, which answers the same purpose, a number of them being kept continually float- ing up and down the water: this completely eludes the vigi- lance of the water-fowl, and they are as easily captured as with the above-mentioned trap. The same practice of snaring ducks prevails in China. On the American rivers the modes of capture are various. Sometimes half a dozen artificial birds are fastened to a little raft, which is so weighted that the sham birds squat naturally on the water. This is quite sufficient to attract the attention of the passing flock who descend to cultivate the acquaintance of the isolated few, when the concealed hunter with his fowling- piece scatters a deadly leaden shower amongst them. In the winter, when the water is covered with rubble ice, the fowler of the Delaware paints his canoe entirely white, lies flat in the bottom of it, and floats with the broken ice, from which the aquatic inhabitants fail to distinguish it; so floats the canoe till he within it understands by the quacking and flutter, and whirring of wings, that he is in the midst of a flock, when he i3 up in a moment with the murderous piece, and dying quacks and lamentations rend the still air. The following account of how duck-snaring used to be ma- naged in the fens of Lincolnshire will be found interesting :— “In the lakes to which they resorted, their favourite haunts were observed, and in the most sequestered part of a haunt a pipe or ditch was cut across the entrance, decreasing gradually in width from the entrance to the further end, which was not more than two feet wide. The ditch was of a circular form, but did not bend much for the first ten yards. The banks of the lake, on each side of the ditch, were kept clear from reeds and close herbage, in order that the ducks might get on them to sit and dress themselves. Along the ditch poles were driven into the ground, close to the edge, on each side, and the tops were bent over across the ditch and tied together. “The poles then bent forward at the entrance of the ditch and formed an arch, the top of which was ten feet distant from the surface of the water; the arch was made to decrease THE DUCK. in height as the ditch decreased in. width, so that the remate end was not more than eighteen inches in height. The poles were placed about six feet from each other, and connected by poles laid lengthwise across the arch and tied together Over the whole was thrown a net which was made fast tu a reed fence at the entrance, and nine or ten yards up the ditch, and afterwards strongly pegged to the ground. “ At the end of the ditch furthest from the. entrance, was fixed what was called a ‘tunnel-net,’ of about four yards in length, of a round form, and kept open by.a number of hoops, about eighteen inches in diameter, placed at a small distance from each other to keep it distended. Supposing the circular bend of ° the ditch to be to the right, when one stands with his back to the lake, then on the left hand side, & a number of reed fences were con- structed, called ‘shootings,’ for the purpose of screening the decoy man from observation, and in such a manner that the fowl in the decoy might not be alarmed, while he was driving those that were in the pipe. These shootings, which were ten in number, were about four yards in length, and about six feet high. From the end of the last shooting, a person could not see the lake, owing to the bend of the ditch, and there was then no further occasion for shelter. Were it not for these shootings, the fowls that remained about the mouth of the ditch would have been alarmed if the person driving the fowls, already under the net, should have been exposed, and would have become so shy as entirely to forsake the place. “The first thing the decoy man did, on approaching the ditch, was to take a piece of lighted turf or peat and to hold it near his mouth to prevent the birds from smelling him. He was attended by a dog trained to render him assistance. He walked very silently about half way up the shootings, where a small piece of wood was thrust through the reed-fence, which made an aperture just large enough to enable him to see if there were any fowls within; if not, he walked forwaid to see if any were about the entrance of the ditch. If there were he stopped, made a motion to his dog, and gave him a piece of cheese to eat; when the dog went directly to a hole in the reed-tence, and the birds immediately flew off the bunk into a7 CALL DUCKS. DOMESTIC POULTRY. the water. The dog returned along the bank, between the reed-fences, and came out to his master at another hole. The man then gave the dog something more to encourage him, and the dog repeated his rounds, till the birds were attracted by his motions, and followed him into the’ mouth of the ditch ;— an operation which was called ‘ working them.’ “The man now retreated further back, working the dog at different holes, until the ducks were sufficiently under the net. He then commanded his dog to lie down under the fence, and, going himself forward to the end of the ditch next the lake, he took off his hat, and gave it a wave between the shooting. All the birds that were under the net could then see him, but none that were in the lake could. The former flew forward, and the man then ran to the next shooting and waved his hat, and so on, driving them along until they came to the tunnel- net, into which they crept. When they were all in the man gave the net a twist so as to prevent them getting back. He then took the net off from the end of the ditch and taking out, one by one, the ducks that were in it, dislocated their necks.” Duck shooting is another sport, once a very common and lucrative employment, but of late years almost entirely gone out of fashion. Profitable as the business may have been, the life of a duck-shooter was anything but an enviable one. Only in the winter could it be carried on at all, and then either late at night or very early in the morning, on wet, marshy places, surrounded by the sea. The wild duck is remarkable for the fineness of its scent, in addition to being exceedingly wary and timid, so thatthe duck-shooter could only approach them to leeward, with a piece of burning turf in his hand. He waw obliged to have a pair of huge wooden pattens or he would not be able to proceed a hundred yards without sinking up to his waist. Indeed, so altogether comfortless and tiresome was the sport, that, purely out of charity, many duck-shooters would even deny themselves the company of a dog on their expedition. To show how precarious this sport must have been, an eminent naturalist, some years ago, wrote the following :— On the Cheshire side of the mouth of the river Dee, runs a ridge of three small rocky islands, called Great Helbree, Little Helbree, and, at the southern extremity, at a somewhat greater distance, forming the termination of the ridge, the Little Eye. At low water, the passage between these rocks and the mainland is entirely dry. At this time, therefore, those who were inclined to take the chance of one single shot, for a second loading was ae THE DUCK. out of the question, bent their way to the Little Eye, and took possession of a sort of excavated hovel, where, under cover of a few rough stones piled together, they were prepared to remain till high water; when, if they were fortunate (but this was by no means to be calculated upon with anything like certainty), a floating flock of ducks and other sea-fowl would drift within reach, and a well-directed fire might do prodigious execution.” On the coast of Hampshire this sport is still in vogue. The duck-shooter conceals himself till nightfall, and waits anxiously till a flock has descended to feed. He then gets as near to them as possible, and fires into the midst, and if he has another gun snatches it up and fires again, and then hastens to the spot and gathers up the spoil. One of the most remarkable stories of .duck-shooting ‘is related by Stanley, in his “ History of Birds.” “On one of these expeditions,” says he, “a duck-shooter, in Hampshire, met with a perilous adventure. Mounted on his mud-pattens, he was traversing one of these oozy plains, and being intent only on his game, suddenly found the water rising with the tide. Aware of his danger, he looked round, but his retreat was already cut off; he was surrounded by the flowing sea, and death stared him in the face. But in this desperate situa- tion his presence of mind remained, and an idea struck him which might yet be the means of his preservation. He gazed round to see if any part of the mud-desert was higher than the rest, and observing a small portion still a foot or two above the water, he hastened towards it, and when there, striking the barrel of his long gun deep into the ooze, he resolved to hold fast by it, as a prop to secure himself against the buffet- ings of the waves, which were breaking angrily around him, and had now reached his feet, and, at the same time, as an anchor, to which he might cling, and not, be carried away by the current of the flowing or ebbing tide; or, at all events, that if it was to be his sad fate to perish, his body might be found by those friends who might venture out to search for him. Well acquainted with the usual rise of the tide, he had every reason to suppose that it would not reach above his middle, and that if he could endure the cold of six hours’ immersion, he might be saved. Unfortunately, however, he had not taken into account the state of the wind, or some other causes, which had not only brought the waters up more rapidly than usual, but would also add to their height. Accordingly, having first felt the chill and deadly sensation of ripple after ripple, now ao DOMESTIC POULTRY. covering his feet, then bathing him knee-deep, and then advan- cing beyond his waist, he was horror-struck at finding that, instead of receding, it still crept upwards, and reached his shoulders; the spray lurst over his head; upon another minute’s rise or fall of tide his life depended ; but still, though he gave himself up for lost, he firmly grasped his gun-barrel The mainland. was too far distant to admit of his shouts being heard, and it was equally vain to hope that any looker-out could descry such a speck upon the waves as the head of a human being. In this awful moment of suspense, on looking downwards he thought he saw the wopermost button of his waistcoat beginning to appear! Intensely he watched it, but for some time without any well-founded assurance that. he was right. At length, however, hopes increased to certainty—he saw button after button rising slowly into view—an infalli- ble sign that the height of the tide was over, and that it was now upon the ebb. Though chilled with cold, and almost fainting, this welcome prospect raised his spirits, and acting like a cordial, enabled him to endure the remaining hours of his fearful imprisonment.” There is, however, another adventure related by the same authority, in which the party concerned were placed in the same terrible position, but all, unhappily, perished. “Off the north-west point of the hundred of Wirral, in Cheshire, extends a wide tract of sand, forming a dangerous shoal, called Holyebank, which has proved the grave of many a shipwrecked mariner. To this bank, always dry at low water, the fishermen of the neighbourhood are in the frequent habit of going to collect mussels. One evening, a party having ventured as usual, before separating, agreed upon a particular point where they were to meet again when the tide began to vome in. Dusk came on, and those who first returned to the boat rowed to the point of rendezvous, there to await the arri- val of their comrades; but hour after hour passed, and some were yet missing. The boat-keepers began to fear the worst; the avsentees had either lost their way on the wide desert of sand, and were now wandering about hopelessly in darkness, or they had perished in one of the many quicksands which abounded on the shoal. Still they hung upon the anchor, and waited till, at its appointed hour, the tide had covered the whole bank, and not a doubt could remain as to the fate of their friends. They then returned to reveal the sad tidings to their relatives on shore, and at early dawn repaired once more eo q THE DUCK, w the bank, now dry as when they first landed. One body alone was found, and he, like the duck-shooter, had resorted to the same lost and forlorn hope. He had firmly fixed a boat- hook on the highest ridge of sand, and, having Inshed himself to it with his handkerchief, had determined there to await the rising of the last tide he was ever destined to behold. The bodies of his companions were never seen again, and had probably found a resting-place:in the deep channels of the surrounding sea.” In the poultry-yard, the duck is no mean tenant; and is fond of asserting its supremacy. Many are the skirmishes that take place for a supply of food betwixt it and the fowls, and even Gallus domesticus—stately and terrible as he is—is no match for the impudence and cunning of this homely species of the genus Anas. The Rev. J. G. Wood, in his own clear way, thus vividly portrays a battle of the ducks and fowls as witnessed by him :— “In a farm-yard with which I was once intimately con- nected, there were several ducks who were shut up at night in a very spacious coop, but who were not at all satisfied with the provender given to them, but yearned for some of that given to the fowls. So impatient were they of their imprison- ment that directly they saw any of their acquaintances in the farm-yard, they used to set up a most clamorous quacking, in hopes of being released. There were several grand battles between the ducks and the master-cock of the yard, which invariably terminated in the victory of the ducks. The mode of combat was as follows :—The poultry would be pecking up the grain thrown to them, when in would rush a duck, scoop- ing up with its broad beak more at one sweep than the fowl would take in a dozen pecks. This behaviour naturally in- censes the cock, who accordingly flies at the duck and pecks it. The duck crouches down and makes no resistance, but contrives to get behind the cock, and to give him a very hard geck, at the same time turning round and looking innocent. Round jumps the cock, intent upon vengeance, but seeing nothing to account for the blow that he has just received, he puts it down to the charge of a stray stone, or such other mis- fortune, and returns to his meal. No sooner has uis attention been fixed upon his food, when he receives another hard peck, jumps round, and sees the duck looking innocent as before, This time, however, he suspects something, and, while he pecks at the barley, keeps a look out from the corner ee his eye. DOMESTIC POULTRY. Soon comes another peck; but this time the duck is seen, and aggrieved chanticleer dashes at him with all the anger of three assaults combined. Down flops the duck on the ground, tucking his head under his wing; the cock runs over him in triumph, walking once or twice over his prostrate enemy, and returns to his meal in high spirits. Presently the duck draws out his head, opens first one eye, then: the other, gets up cau- tiously, saunters behind the cock, and salutes him with ano- ther peck. The irritated bird again attacks his foe, again meets with no opposition, again returns to his food, and is again attacked in a similar manner, until he is completely wearied out, and finally takes to flight, pursued by the trium- phant duck, who has won, like Fabius, by delay.” Several anecdotes are related of the attachment of the duck to its young, some of which are rather remarkable and inter- esting. Says a well-known naturalist :—“ A farmer’s wife had a young duck, which by some acvident was deprived of its companions, and from that moment. seemed to concentrate all its affections on her. Wherever she woved, it followed her so closely that she was in constant fear of treading upon and crushing it to death. As it grew older, its affections seemed to strengthen rather than diminish; it laid itself by the fire and basked on the hearth, and when noticed seemed delighted. This continued till some other ducks were procured, when, being constantly driven out of the house, it gradually associated itself with its more natural companions.” The same authority relates a singular instance of a fierce house-dog being greatly attached to a brood of ducks, “ who, notwithstanding his apparently savage disposition, soon became so fond of him, that whenever, from his barking, they appre- hended danger, they would rush towards him for protection, and seek shelter in his kennel.” Naturalists count nearly a hundred species of the duck genus, scattered over all parts of the world; and there is little doubt that the intending keeper of this profitable bird may take his choice from at least twenty different sorts. No great amount of knowledge neither is necessary in purchasing them, as there is very little difference in the whole family, either as regards hardiness, laying, or hatching, so that the most igno- rant may indulge his fancy without being afraid of making a bad bargain. The white Aylesbury duck is, and deservedly, a universal favourite. Its snowy plumage and comfortable comportment 462 THE DUCK. make it « credit to the poultry-yard, while its broad and deep breast, and its ample back, convey the assurance that your satisfaction will not cease at its death. In parts of Bucking- hamshire, this member of the duck family is bred on an exten- sive scale; not, however, as might be naturally imagined, cn plains and commons, but in the abodes of the cottagers. Round the walls of the living-rooms, and of the bed-rooms even, are fixed rows of wooden boxes, lined with hay ; and it is the busi- ness of the wife and children to nurse and comfort the feathered lodgers, to feed the little ducklings, and to take the old ones out for an airing. Sometimes the “stock” ducks are the cot- tager’s own property, but it more frequently happens that they are intrusted to his care by a wholesale breeder, who pays tim so much per score for all ducklings properly raised. To be perfect, the Aylesbury duck should be plump, pure white, with yellow feet, and a flesh-coloured beak. Every one knows how awkward are the Anatide, waddling along on their unelastic webbed toes, and their short legs, which, being placed consi- derably backward, make the fore part of the body pre- ponderate. Some, however, are formed more adapted to terrestrial habitsthan others, and notably amongst these may be named Dendronessa sponsa, the summer duck of America. This beautiful bird rears her young in the holes of trees, generally overhang- ing the water. When strong enough, the young scramble to the mouth of the hole, launch into the air with their little wings and feet spread out, and drop into their favourite ele- ment. Whenever their birthplace is at some distance from the water, the mother carries them tv it, one by one, in her bill, holding them so as not to injure their yet tender frame. On several occasions, however, when the hole was 30, 40, or more yards from a piece of water, Audubon observed that the mother suffered the young to fall on the grass and dried leaves beneath the tree, and afterwards led them directly to the nearest edge of the next pool or creek. There are some curious varieties of the domestic duck, which only appear interesting from their singularity, for there does not seem to be anything of use or AYLESBURY DUCKS. DOMESTIC POULTBY. value in the unusual characteristics which distinguish them ; thus, the bow-bill duck, as shown in the engraving, called by some writers the hook-bill, is remarkable for the peculiarly strange distortion of its beak, and the tuft on the top of its head. The penguin duck, again, waddles in an upright posi- tion, like the penguin, on account of the unnatural situation of its legs. These odd peculiarities add nothing of value to the various breeds, and would seem to be the result of accidental malformation, transmitted from generation to generation. The Rouen, or Rhone duck, is a large and somewhat hand- some variety, of French extraction. The plumage of the Rouen duck is somewhat sombre; its flesh is also much darker, and, though of higher fla- vour, not near so delicate as that of our own Aylesbury. It is with this latter breed that the Rouen duck is ge- nerally mated; and the re- sult is said to be increase of size and strength. In Nor- mandy and Brittany, these ducks, as well as other sorts, greatly abound; and the “duck-liver pdtés” are there almost as popular as the pdté de foie gras of Strasburg. The Buenos Ayres duck is of East Indian birth, and is 2 chiefly valuable as an ornament ; \\\ se for we suppose one would as soon : think of picking a Chinese teal for luncheon, or a gold fish for breakfast, as to consign the handsome Buenos Ayres to the spit. The prevailing colour of this bird is black, with a me- tallic lustre, and a gleaming of blue steel about its breast and ROUEN DUCES. BUENOS AYRES DUCKS, wings. A valuable species of the duck family is the Hider-duck, which is found in the most dreary and desolate regions of the uorth. Iceland is a favourite resort of these birds during the breeding season; and here, owing to the little interruption on the part of the inhabitants, they are remarkably tame. “On approaching them,” it is said, “the drakes, indeed, often take THE DUCK. alarm, and plunge with great precipitancy into the water; but the ducks generally remain sitting on their nests. or merely fly to the distance of a yard or two, and on an attempt to touch their eggs, return in a rage. Many of them suffer themselves to be handled, and can only be removed by actual force from their nests. In some parts of the island, where they are more particularly attended to, they build their nests on the roofs of the houses, and become quite familiar with the inhabitants.” The nest of the bird, which is carefully made of its own down, is plundered by the natives as soon as the duck has laid its first eggs, which are all taken. This is again repeated once or twice; but generally, if the nest is robbed more than two or three times, the birds leave the spot altogether. It must be a lucrative business for the Icelanders, for the merchants will give from twelve to fourteen shillings a pound for the down, and the eggs are the staple food of many a poor cottager. The down is remarkable for lightness and warmth ; and is princi- pally manufactured into coverings for beds. Thus, many of us lay on the feathers plucked from the back of a living bird; and are covered with the down that is robbed from the nest of another. The way in which the eider-duck initiates her young brood in the art of swimming, is by carrying them out on her back and, suddenly diving, leaves them to their own resources, ap- pearing again a little distance further on, and encouraging them to swim towards her. Light-coloured ducks are always of milder flavour than their darker brethren; and those which are reared exclusively on vegetable diet will have whiter and more delicate flesh than those allowed to feast on animal offal. The flesh of birds fat- tened on animal food will be firmer than the other, and have a gamy flavour. The ancient notion that ducks whose beaks have a tendency to curve upward are better layers than another sort is simply absurd—all ducks are good layers if they are carefully fed and tended. Ducks generally lay in the night or early in the morning. While she is in perfect health she will do this; and one of the surest signs of indisposition among birds of this class is irregularity in laying. The eggs laid will invariably nearly approach the colour of the layer,—light-coloured ducks laying white eggs, and brown ducks greenish-blue eggs. Dark-coloured ducks lay the largest eggs. One time of day the notion was prevalent that a duck would hatch no other eggs than her own; this is not true; 43 30 DOMESTIC POULTRY. nevertheless it will be ay well to match the duck’s own eggs as nearly as possible, for I have known instances where the duck has turned out of the nest and destroyed eggs differing from her own in size and colour. Concerning incubation a practical writer says :— The duck requires a secret and safe place rather than any attendance, and will at Nature’s call cover her eggs and seek her food. On hatching there is not often a necessity for taking away any of the brood; and, having hatched, let the duck retain her young ones upon the nest her own time. On her moving with her brood, prepare a coop upon the short grass if the weather be fine, or under shelter if otherwise, a wide and flat dish of water, often to be renewed, standing at hand; barley, or any other meal, should be the first food. In wet weather particularly, it is needful to clip the tails of the ducklings, or they will otherwise be apt to draggle and weaken the bird. Brood ducks should be cooped some distance from any other.” The period of her confinement to the coop depends on the weather and the strength of the ducklings. A fortnight seems the longest time necessary, and they may sometimes be per- mitted to enjoy the luxury of a swim at the end of a week. If, however, they be allowed to stay too long in the water at first they will be ill, their feathers will go rough, and they will have looseness of the bowels. If this should be the case, coop them close for a few days, and mix bean-meal or oatmeal with their ordinary food. Many duck-keepers give their birds nothing in the shape of food, letting them wander about and pick up a living for themselves. They will even seem to grow fat with this precarious feeding, but unless, besides this chance food, you take care morning and evening to supply them with a liberal feed of solid corn, their flesh will be flabby and insipid. The simple way to fatten ducks is to let them have as much substantial food as they will eat. They will require no cram- ming, as does the turkey and some other poultry,—they will cram themselves to the verge of suffocation; they should, at the same time, be allowed plenty of exercise and clean water. cg oats and pea-meal is the standard fattening food for ducks, GEESE. THE common goose has long been one of our most useful dos mestic animals; so long, indeed, that history is altogether silent on the subject, and fails to record the date when it first became a companion of man in this country. Julius Cesar found the goose as well as the Briton when he visited us; and there is an old legend which relates that one of the former gave him more disquiet than all the hosts of his enemies. One night, while the Romans were encamped in great numbers, and the general was alone in his tent, reading some secret document, which, if perused by any other eye, might have cost him his head, he was suddenly startled by some one at his elbow, and, turning round in the utmost dismay, found a goose gravely conning the traitorous document. Amongst the ancients, the goose was reckoned a sacred bird, and dedicated to that interesting mythological personage, Queen Juno, Pliny makes mention of the goose, and relates an instance of its affection, which is very interesting. A phi- losopher, named Lacydes, possessed one of these birds, which was remarkably attached to him; and when at study, in his own house, the faithful creature was always at his side. If he ventured abroad, to the public disputations or elocutions, the goose followed him, remained near him while delivering his orations, or paying his addresses to his fellow-citizens, and then returned home with him. At last the goose died, much to the sorrow of the unhappy philosopher, who, imagining that this extraordinary devotedness was connected with religious ws DOMESTIC POULTRY. feeling, conceived that his defunct friend was worthy of Chris- tian sepulture, and accordingly caused it to be interred in a magnificent manner, I do not wish to depreciate the bird’s excellent qualities, aud can seriously refer for the hundredth time to the oft-told story of the goose and the Roman capitol,—of the shrewd bird who wanted to save an egg, and did the same service towards acity. At the same time, it is in connection with a greater event than even that, owing to the important part it plays in a famous Christian festival, that we all ought, I think, to re- verence the goose. The former story is but traditional, and, true or false, of little importance to us at the present: time; the latter affords an annual proof of the goose being a public benefactor, and so deserving of acknowledgment. In the time of the crusades, a goose was engraven on the banner at the head of one of the bands proceeding to Palestine to deliver the Holy Land from the dominion of the Saracens. It has been wickedly insinuated that the said banner was emblem- atical of many of the performances of the crusaders; certainly, it brings to one’s mind the story of the fanatic who always walked to church on his hands, instead of his feet. Men’s minds were much puzzled in endeavouring to account for so curious a mode of locomotion. One day, a bystander, who witnessed the pious gymuast performing this feat, mildly suggested as a reason for such extraordinary conduct, that “ perhaps he liked the sensa- tion ;” and probably he was very nigh the truth. The goose family is extensive. There is the Canada goose (the largest, and, according to many eminent naturalists, the most sagacious of the tribe), the Snow goose of Russia, the Laughing goose of North America (the Indians, who hunt this jocular creature, imitate its cry, or laugh, by ejaculating the syllable wah, at the same time slapping the mouth sharply), the common wild goose of Britain, the Bean goose, and the “ Bernicle,” or “ Barnacle” goose. Concerning this last-men- tioned animal a curious belief was once prevalent. ‘ There is,” says Gerard (who lived in the reign of Queen Elizabeth), “a small island in Lancashire called the Pile of Foulders (on the west side of the entrance into Morecombe bay, about fifteen tiles south of Ulverston), wherein are found the broken pieces of old and bruised ships, and also the trunks and bodies, with the branches of old and rotten trees cast up their likeness, whereon is found a certain spume or froth, that in time hard- eneth unto certain shells in shape like those of the muskle but 468 THE GOOSE. sharper pointed and of a whitish color, wherein is contained a thing in form like a lace of silke finely woven as it were toge- ther; one end whereof is fastened into the inside of the shell even as the fish of oisters and muskles are; the other end is made fast into the belly of a rude mass or lump which in time cometh to the shape and form of a bird: when it is per- fectly formed the shell gapeth open and the first thing that appeareth is the aforesaid lace or string, next come the legs of the bird hanging out, and as it groweth greater it openeth the shell by degrees, till at length it is all come forth and hangeth only by the bill. In short space after it cometh to full matu- ritie and falleth into the sea, where it gathereth feathers and groweth to a fowl bigger than a mallard and lesser than a goose, which the people of Lancashire call by no other name than a ‘ tree-goose;’ which place aforesaid and all those parts adjoining do so abound therewith that one of the best is bought for three pence.” Notwithstanding sage Gerard’s emphatic declaration, “ If any doubt, may it please them to repair unto me, and I shall satisfy them by the testimony of good witnesses,” it is to be hoped the “people of Lancashire,” and of every other shire, are no longer guilty of such credulity. The Canada goose is a bird of considerable importance in the United States. In the Hudson’s Bay territories, this animal is periodically anxiously looked for, and the Indian tribes of the neighbourhood call the mouth in which these birds arrive, the goose-moon. Dr. Richardson, in his “ Fauna Boreali Americani,” has the following notice of this bird, the Canada goose, and its migrations :—“ The arrival of this well- known bird is anxiously looked for, and hailed with great joy by the natives of the woody and swampy districts, who depend principally on it for subsistence during the summer. It makes its first appearance in flocks of twenty or thirty, which are readily decoyed within gunshot by the hunters, who conceal themselves and imitate its call. Two, three, or more, are so frequently killed at a shot, that, the usual price of a goose is the single charge of ammunition. One goose, which when fat weighs about nine pounds, is the daily ration of one of the Company’s (Hudson Bay) servants during the season, and is reckoned equivalent to two Snow geese (Anas hyperborea), or three ducks, or eight pounds of buffalo and moose-meat, or two pounds of ptarmigan,—or a pint of maize and four ounces ot suet, 489 DOMESTIC POULTRY. * About three weeks after their first appearance, the Canada geese disperse in pairs throughout the country, between the 50th and 67th parallels, to breed, retiring at the same time from the shore of Hudson’s Bay. They are seldom or never seen on the coasts of the Arctic sea. In July, after the young birds are hatched, the parents moult, and vast numbers are killed in the rivers and lakes, when (from the loss of their quill. feathers) they are unable to fly. When chased by a canoe, and obliged to dive frequently, they soon become fa- tigued, and make for-the shore for the purpose of hiding them- selves, but as they are not fleet, they fall an easy prey to their pursuers. In the autumn they again assemble in flocks, on the shores of Hudson’s Bay, for three weeks or a month previous to their departure southwards.” Many of this species are now domesticated in this country, although not to such an extent as it clearly deserves. It will breed with the common grey goose, and by many it is consi- dered that the hybrid progeny of this cross-breed is far superior in the flavour and quality of the flesh than that of the pure common breed. Buffon, the naturalist, says, that in his time many hundreds of the Canada geese inhabited the great canal at Versailles, where they bred familiarly with the swans. The Canada goose is more of a monogamist in a wild state than he is under domestication; but, as has been truly observed, “this may result from the plan of keeping but few males, and those in association with a flock of females, so that the ordinary results of pairing,—that is, retiring from the rest to a secluded spot, which the mated pair exclusively oc- cupy,—are interfered with.” Still, he does not altogether neglect the respectable example of his progenitors, but usually confines his attention much more to one particular female of the flock than 1o all the rest. A popular writer on poultry has some very judicious remarks on the impropriety of excluding this species of the genus Anser from the poultry-yard, which opinion I can readily. endorse from my own experience. “It is a question worth attention,” says he, “ whether the Canada goose might not with advantage be more extensively kept in our country than it is at present. It is common as an ornament to sheets of water in parks, gardens, and pleasure-grounds, but is too much neglected as a bird of utility ; it is alike valuable for flesh and feathers ; it is not so decided a grazer as is the common goose; the precincts of marshes and ponds which abound in aquatic vegetation, for 470 THE GOOSE. the procuring of which its strong bill and swan-like neck afford it facility, offer the most advantageous sites for its establish- ment, and in such localities we strongly recommend its adop- tidn.” It is decidedly the most interesting and handsome bird of its tribe; its head, greater part of the neck, rump, and tail, are quite black; the beak and.wings brown; and the under- plumage brownish-grey ; its bill and feet are also black. The Canada goose is also remarkable for its extraordinary sagacity, and several anecdotes are related which go a long way to prove its attachment to man. On the whole, I can, with great plea- sure, recommend this bird to the reader as a very important member of the poultry-yard. Lincolnshire has long been noted ‘as a goose-breeding county. In the fens, it is no uncommon circumstance to find breeders‘ owning from five to fifteen thousand geese. Among the poorer inhabitants prevails the curious custom of taking hatching geese to nurse. In every room, not excluding the bed-chambers, there is ranged round the walls, and one above the other, three rows of coarse wicker pens, which are subdivided into little cribs, each large enough to accommodate a goose. Twice a day an individual with a long rag-tipped stick, who calls himself a “ gozzard” (probably a handy abbreviation of goose-herd), calls at the different houses for the feathered patients, takes them to water, and then brings them back again. Were I a believer in apparitions and things supernatural, 1 would for ever eschew the use of a goose-feather bed. I should dread that the many geese that had suffered torture and death that I might lie lazily, would surround my pillow and keep my conscience a quake by quacking to me the anguish they endured for my sake whilst in the flesh; for, be it known to the Michaelmas reveller, be it known to him, who on a winter’s night punches up his pillow and cuddles down cosily, that the creature to whom he is indebted for his gratification led but a wretched life, and that the first act of kindness shown to liim was the wringing of his neck. For why? “ Geese are plucked five times in the year. The first plucking is for quills and fea- thers, and takes place on Lady-day; and between that time and Michaelmas they undergo four more pluckings for feathers only. Six weeks old goslings even are not spared—their tail- feathers are plucked out, to habituate them to what they are to come to. © Sitting -ovn? w a circle, with a hundred or so a geese en- DOMESTIC POULTRY. closed, the pluckers,—each with a coarse apron tied up to her chin,—go at their work as stolidly as though they were picking ‘gooseberries off a bush, rather than feathers from a living creature. The old geese,—their skins having doubtless grown callous from constant plucking,—bear the operation as content- edly as one does having his hair cut; it is the goslings, with their tender baby-flesh, who make the noise: no one, indeed, but an experienced and granite-hearted plucker, could indif- ferently listen to the poor little things’ plaintive ‘ quack, quack’ for mercy. If the season prove cold, the mortality amongst the poor naked things is something alarming.” The only excuse for this barbarity is that feathers plucked from a live bird retain their elasticity, whereas feathers from a dead bird have no more life in them than there is in the carcase from which they are drawn. It is, however, satisfactory to find that the poor geese who thus suffer so much pain at the hands of the myrmidons of the all-potent monarch, Fashion, are not entirely without cham- pions, who, moreover, not only denounce the barbarous custom, but also suggest a remedy. Foremost amongst these may be mentioned a writer, now somewhat old, but whose “ Treatise on Poultry ” is a standard work of reference at the present time; I allude to Bonington Mowbray, who makes the following remarks on the practice of plucking geese: “ A writer in the Monthly Magazine, December, 1832, remarks humanely on the cruelty of plucking the living goose, proposing a remedy which I should rejoice exceedingly to find practicable and effective. He remarks on the additional torture experienced by the poor fowl, from the too frequent unskilfulness and want of dexterity of the operator—generallty a woman. The skin and flesh are sometimes so torn as to occasion the death of the victim; and even when the fowls are plucked in the most careful manner, they lose their flesh and appetite; their eyes become dull, and they languish in a most pitiable state, during a longer or a shorter period. Mortality has also been periodically very ex- tensive in the flocks of geese, from sudden and imprudent exposure of them to the cold, after being stripped, and more especially during severe seasons and sudden atmospheric vicissitudes. There are many instances, in bleak and cold situations, of hundreds being lost in a single night, from neg- lect of the due precaution of comfortable shelter for so long a time as it may appear to be required. The remedy propnsed, on the above authority, is as follows: Feathers are but of a 2 THE GOOSE. year’s growth, and in the moulting season they spontaneously fall off, and are supplied by a fresh fleece; when, therefore, the geese are in full feather, let the plumage be removed, close to the skin, by sharp scissors. The produce would not be much reduced in quantity, whilst the quality would be greatly im- proved, and an indemnification be experienced in the uninjured health of the fowl, and the benefit obtained to the succeeding crop. Labour also would be saved in dressing, since the quilly portion of the feathers, when forcibly detached from the skin, is generally in such a state, as, after all, to require the employ- ment of scissors. After this operation shall have been per- formed, the down from the breast may be removed by the same manner.” Our neighbours, the French, have little appetite for goose. They say it is coarse and unwholesome, and are as much amazed that apple-sauce should be served with the bird, as some of us are that frogs and dandelions should be found agreeable to French palates. They, however, do not object to a wing or a thigh nicely baked in a pasty, and are passionately fond of pdté de foie gras, or fat liver pie. And how do you think the material for this savory pdté is obtained? “The wretched geese are nailed by the feet to a board, placed before a hot fire, crammed with food and supplied with drink; and it is in this dreadful condition, that while fear wastes away their flesh, the liver becomes enormously large!” Bear this in mind, O English visitor to the “most elegant city in the world,” and when in a bill of fare your eyes encoyanter pdté de foie gras, think of the poor brute roasting alive and pass on to the next item. My experience in goose-breeding has been but limited,—it has been successful, however. I have a friend whose dealings in goose-flesh have been extensive, and no less successful than mine own The system we pursue is not original; it is not old—no older indeed, than Bonington Mowbray’s “ Practical Treatise.” To Mr. Mowbray have we stood indebted for many a delicate “green” goose, and many a fine-flavoured full- grown bird; therefore, in this case, I can do the reader no better service than place before him my own lesson. “A gander and five geese comprise a single breeding stock. The goose sits upon her eggs twenty-seven to thirty days, covering from eleven to fifteen eggs. A nest should be pre- pared for her in a secure place, as soon as carrying straw in her bill, and other tokens, declare her readiness to lay. The earliness and warmth of the spring are the general causes of DOMESTIC POULTRY. the early laying of geese, which is of consequence, since there may be time for two broods within the season, not, however, a common occurrence; and which happen successively for two or three seasons, has occasioned some persons formerly to set a high price upon their stock as if a peculiar and more valuable breed than the common. The method to attain this advantage is, to feed breeding-geese high throughout the winter, with solid corn, and on the commencement of the breeding season to allow them boiled barley, malt, fresh grains and fine pollard, mixed up with ale and other stimulants....... With a gander present no mischief can happen to the sitting geese— he sitting sentinel at the chamber-door of his wives. With respect to feeding the goose or duck upon the nest, it may be occasionally required, but is not a thing of much account, since they will generally repair to the water sufficiently often from their natural inclination. ‘The goose will not quit before she has completed her hatch, nor will it be practicable to take any of the goslings from her were it necessary, as she is too strong and resolute, and might kill some in the struggle. “Tt has been formerly recommended to keep the newly- hatched in the house during a week, lest they get cramp from the damp earth, to which they are indeed liable; but we did not find this indoor confinement necessary, penning the goose and her brood between four hurdles, upon a piece of dry grass, well sheltered, putting them out late in the morning, or not at all in severe weather, and even taking them in im the evening. Sometimes we have pitched double the number of hurdles for the convenience of two broods, there being no quarrels among this social and harmless part of the feathered race, so unlike those quarrelsome and murderous fellows the common fowls, We did not even find it necessary to interpose a parting hurdle, which, on occasion, may always conveniently be done. “ The first food, similar to that of the duck, but with some cooling greens, clivers, or the like intermixed,—namely, barley- meal, bruised oats, or fine pollard. “For the first range, a convenient field containing water is to be preferred to an extensive common, over which the gulls of goslings are dragged by the goose, until they become cramped or tired, some of them squatting down and remaining behind. It is also necessary to destroy all the hemlock or deadly nightshade within the range of the young geese, many of which drop off annually from ‘eating that poison when the cauve is not suspected. I know not that the elder geese will 474 THE DUCK. eat hemlock, but I believe that both the young and old have been occasionally killed by swallowing slips of yew. “The young becoming pretty well feathered will also be too large to be contained or brooded beneath the mother’s wings, and will then sleep in groups by her side, and must be supplied with good and renewed straw beds, which they convert into excellent dung. Being now able to frequent the pond, and range the common at large, the young geese will obtain their living, and few people, favourably situated, allow them any- thing more except the vegetable produce of the garden. “It has, however, been my constant practice always to dis- pense a moderate quantity of any solid corn or pulse at hand, both morning and evening, and the going out and returning of the geese, together with such greens as happened to be at command: cabbage, mangold leaves, lucerne, tares, and, occa- sionally, sliced carrots and turnips. By such full-keeping our geese were ever in a fleshy state, and attained a large size. “Geese managed after the above mode will be speedily fattened green, that is, at a month or six weeks old, or after the run of the corn stubble. Two or three weeks after the latter must be sufficient to make them thoroughly fat ; indeed, I prefer a goose fattened entirely in the stubbles, granting it to have been previously in good case, and be full-fed in the field. But when needful to fatten them, the feeding-houses already recommended are most convenient. With clean and re- newed beds of straw, and plenty of clean water ; oats, crushed or otherwise, pea or bean-meal or pollard; the articles mixed up with skimmed milk, where the article can be obtained, will fatten geese pleasantly and speedily. Very little greens of any kind should be given to fattenmg geese as being too laxa- tive, and occasioning them to throw off their corn too quickly ; whence their flesh will prove less substantial and of inferior flavour.’...... It may be added, that oat-meal, or pea-meal mixed with oatmeal, form an excellent feeding article for ducks and geese.” DISEASES OF POULTRY AND THEIR CURE. Amexg the chief diseases to which poultry of all kinds are liable may be mentioned the following :— Inflammation of the rump-gland or rowp.—Let the swelling be opened by a lancet, and the matter gently squeezed out; afterwards foment well with warm water; put the bird upon a diet of oatmeal and green vegetables, and, if necessary, give 475 DOMESTIC POULTRY. J a teaspoonful of castor-oil. Be sure that the roosting-place is clean and well ventilated. Gapes (inflammation of the trachea) is a disease to which all our domestic gallinaceous birds are subject, and which often oceasions great mortality. It is indicated by running at the nostrils, watery eyes, alteration of voice, and loss of appetite and spirits. If the bird dies and the trachea be examined, it will be found replete with narrow worms, about half an inch in length. “This singular worm,” says a recent writer, “is the Syngamus trachealis, or Distoma lineare. It consists of a long and a short body united together; the long body is the female, the short body the male; each, were it not that they are permanently united together, being an animal distinct and perfect in itself. Whether these parasitic worms are the cause or consequence of the disease, we pretend not to say, nor can we tell how they become introduced into the trachea: this, however, seems certain, that their removal is requisite to give the feathered patient a chance of recovery. This can be done by means of a feather, neatly trimmed, which is to be intro- duced into the windpipe, and turned round once or twice, and then drawn out. It will dislodge the worms, and bring back many of them adhering with slime unto it. This plan requires great dexterity, and some knowledge of the anatomy of the parts: a slow, unskilful operator may kill the already half- suffocated bird, instead of curing it. Another mode of de- stroying these worms is, by putting the birds in a box, and making them inhale the fumes of tobacco, thrown into it through the stalk of a tobacco-pipe. Some recommend the forcing of tobacco-smoke down the bird’s throat, and others that the mouth be crammed with snuff; while many place faith in the efficacy of a pinch of salt, introduced into the back part of the mouth. Something like a scientific mode of treat- ment may, however, be suggested. Give a grain of calomel, made up with bread into a pill, or two or three grains of Plum- mer’s pill (pil. hydr. submur. co., London Pharmacopeeia) ; after which let flour of sulphur be administered, with a little ginger, in pultaceous food composed of barley-meal. In the mean time, let the bird be kept in a dry warm shed or room, apart from the rest of the fowls, as the disease may be in- fectious. Let the mouth and beak be washed with a weak solution of chloride of lime.” Asthma.— When fowls are affected with this complaint, it ia evidenced by difficulty of breathing and a wheezing, rattling 6 THEIR DISEASES AND CURE. noise on inspiration. It is the result of a thickening of th bronchial tubes from previous inflammation, often accompanied by an alteration in the structure of the cellular tissue of a portion of the lungs. There is little hope for an asthmatic fowl. Diarrhoea may be generally cured by a change of diet, and a little chalk given in gruel. Constipation of the bowels will yield to castor-oil, and a diet upon oatmeal porridge and green vegetables. Moulting. — This process is natural, and consists in the gradual exchange of old feathers for new ones.. Nevertheless it often happens that birds in a state of domestication have not sufficient vital energy for the accomplishment of the change. They require improved diet, warmth, and good water. Of course their roosting-place must be properly sheltered and ventilated. A grain or two of cayenne pepper, made into a pill with bread, may be given daily with advantage. Saffron is useless; but a nail, or any bit of iron, may be put into the drinking-trough, in order to render the water chalybeate. BOW-BILL DUCKS. THE OYGNET. SWANS. AxrnoveH these handsome birds bear some resemblance to the geese and duck family, they have been by modern naturalists separated from the rest of the genus Anas into a distinct group of their own. There are six varieties of the swan known in England: The Mute Swan, the Whooper ‘or Whistling Swan, the Bewick’s Swan, the Polish Swan, and the Australian and Chilian, or Peruvian Swan. The mute swan is the most com- mon in this country, and it is this bird which is usually seen on park-waters and pleasure-grounds. It is a large bird, measuring four feet and a half in height, and seven feet from the tip of one wing to the other. Its plumage, as is well known, is snowy white. During the first year the feet are black, in the second year they change to leaden-grey, and lastly, reddish-grey. Jesse, in his “Gleanings,” well describes the habitat of the swans on the river Thames, with which birds my readers are no doubt familiar. He says :—‘ Living on the banks of the Thames, I have often been pleased with seeing the care taken of the young swans by the parent birds. Where the stream is strong, the old swan Swill sink herself sufficiently low to bring her back on a level with the water, when cygnets will get upon it, and in this manner are conveyed to the other side of the river, or into stiller water. Hach family of swans on the river has its own district; and if the limits of that district are encroached upon by other swans, a vindication of local rights immediately takes place, and the intruders are driven away. Except in this instance, colonies of swans appear to live in a state of the most perfect harmony. The male is «78 SWANS. very attentive to the female, assists in making the nest, and, when 2 sudden rise of the tide takes place, joins her with great: assiduity in raising the nest sufficiently high to prevent the eggs being chilled by the action of the water, though sometimes its rise is so rapid that the whole nest is washed away and destroyed.” Of its attachment to its young there can be little doubt. I have often, while boating on the Thames, amused myself with attempting 1o get at its nest. The female and male have always combined to resist the seeming attempt at depredation, sailing round and round the boat, and snapping most angrily at the sculls, seeming to know that they were the principle objects of dread. The mute swan builds its nest of rushes, reeds, and various plants; and lays about six or seven eggs. The amount of food that should be given to this bird varies, of course, in propor- tion to its own opportunities of foraging for itself. Says a good authority :— When in a great measure dependent on given food, each will eat the eighth part of a peck of barley daily ; this may be now and then varied with oats.”