_ AG if a Cre ay Hf ‘ tt ig GGpes iL We) ’ Neer Tiree | ‘ ‘ et) ; [his fol ¥ wy a hae ew ti) fe MR nee hie , oe | f i we | we ; : MY BIRDS IN FREEDOM & CAPTIVITY Quam magnificata sunt opera tua, Domine ; Nimis profunde facte sunt cogitationes tua. ar yi ; bie ea} Srlie oR ah =a [rw puvk PYp Ue? Wh: B Catan his music. A ‘“‘ hedge-sparrow’s” mossy nest, hidden low down in some evergreen shrub or ivy stump, is a real joy to find, with its complement of brilliant tur- quoise eggs. One wonders at so sombre and retiring a bird being able to thus decorate its nest with such vividly coloured shells. The hedge-sparrows do not hop about the lawns with the boldness of thrushes, blackbirds, and robins; but generally keeping nearer to the bushes, seem to apologise for their presence, and quickly disappear. Chaffinches are very bold, half walking and half hopping with nodding heads in front of the windows, even in summer time, and then flitting off with white- banded wings, uttering their call note of “Pink, Pink,” The cock bird is very handsome with his blue- grey head, his breast of dull pink, his greenish back, and white conspicuously marked wings and tail. Could anything in bird architecture be more lovely than a chafhinch’s nest. A perfect lichen-covered cup of moss, bound tightly to the twigs of some over- hanging branch; the eggs within, thickly spangled with chocolate spots and specks, upon a creamy ground. There are many other birds less conspicuous and more timid, usually to be seen or heard in our English gardens. Late in March, if the spring has entered with mild still days, and the month is going out like a lamb, the monotonous but pleasing notes of the chiff- chaff are heard everywhere. It is one of the several Houses & Gardens Is small migratory warblers whose presence, except for his call, is unnoticed by the majority of people. A little slender billed greenish-yellow bird with pale underparts, which flits noiselessly from tree to tree, peering industriously for its insect food. How such frail little fellows such as the chiffchaff, the willow and garden warblers, the sedge and reed warblers, are able to make their long spring and autumn aérial journeys, is all but a mystery. When settled in their summer quarters, they seem to cling to the shelter of woods, meadows, and shrubberied gardens, as if they would not trust themselves in places where a flight of any great length were necessary. In the case of the minute and beautiful golden- crested wrens, a migration across the waves of the sea is still more a matter of marvel ; but that they do so is only true, and at times pass over certain well- known landmarks, such as the island of Heligoland, in countless thousands. The jolly little nut-brown cock-tailed “Jenny” wren, seems to be a resident all the year round. He cheers one’s ear with his bright hurried song, even in the depth of winter, if the weather is not too severe and the sun sends forth his rays, however feebly. In winter time, too, wrens will visit the house, tripping nimbly, but with due caution, along the window sills ; sometimes venturing into a room, and often into a conservatory. A dish of meal-worms, from which the worms cannot escape, may attract them and provide them with a good dinner, when other insect food may be Scarce. 16 Birds that come to our In their building arrangements, wrens vary indi- vidually. Occasionally one finds a nest which is discovered at first glance, it may be in some crevice of the seamed trunk of an ancient yew, tightly wedged. Another is so completely concealed under the ivy that has clasped a wall or a tree trunk, that only the flight of the little brown wren from her nest, as you happen to brush up against it, betrays its whereabouts. Even then an inexperienced eye would not detect it. There is: nothing to: attract) attention, ‘Inue, there (isgae collection of last year’s leaves, but no nest. Look again where the leaves are closely gathered. Stoop a bit. Now don’t you see that neatly framed entrance, with the threshold of moss so marvellously compacted ? May you feel inside? Well, if you own a fairly long finger; only -one/ at, a time) mind! You /can# eer the eggs out? No! and a good job too. Seven you can count? I daresay so. But come away now, or our dear wrens will desert. In another three weeks the young ones will be fairly sitting on the top of one another, and if you put your finger tn then, out they all will flutter, for they will be just ready to fly. They wiil hide away in the long grass or the bushes, or squeeze themselves into the minutest holes and crannies of the rockery, close ‘by the tree under whose shadow they saw the light. Another bird that so brightens our gardens with his song is the blackcap. About the second week of April you will hear his loud warbling notes. Often he will commence soffo voce, to break out into forte and fortissimo. Before the leaves have grown, . SGU) a CMe, f= oa Houses &? Gardens It7 when for the most part nothing but buds, purple or green, are glistening in the sunshine after a sharp thunder-shower, the male blackcap can easily be seen, hopping about amongst the sycamores, thorn bushes, and laburnums of the garden shrubbery. Don’t mistake for him an ox-eye or a coal-titmouse, both of which have black heads. The blackcap is a true “warbler,” with upper parts of olive-grey, and under parts of delicate pearl colour. His lady’s head has a cap of bright brown, in the place of his glossy black one. Where the mock-orange bushes grow in the wild garden, or the foxgloves and tall campanulas spring up in a tangle of flowering grasses and perhaps nettles, there the blackcap’s nest is concealed ; nor is it easily found, for if the bird flies from it when you are quite close by, she will flit away so silently and un- observantly, that you may never notice her departure ; a frail nest of dried grasses, compacted with spider’s webbing and lined sparingly with a little horsehair, built, as a rule, within three or four feet of the ground. ° Blackcaps never venture away from the thick recesses of the wild garden ; yet even if those hiding-places are bounded by walls and buildings, such as are many of the gardens of the Oxford Colleges, they will take up their abode there spring after spring. Then, too, the garden warbler, a gracefully formed little bird, with unpretentious grey-brown plumage and a very sweet though not particularly noticeable song, is fairly abundant, as is also the willow wren, a small person which builds a semi-domed nest of grass lined with feathers on the ground amongst ivy B 18 Birds that come to our or tangles of herbage. In appearance he is much of a muchness with the chiffchaff, delicately made. The ubiquitous greenfinch, to my mind a plebeian bird, with his stout bill and his sparrow-like form, builds here, there, and everywhere, generally on a level with one’s head, or a foot or two above it. Young greenfinches are very clamorous and rowdy. But the plumage of the adult male is certainly hand- some, the bright yellow in the wings and tail showing up well against the general dull green of the body. For real beauty amongst the finches, nothing beats our old and intimate friend the bullfinch, beloved as a cage-bird, but detested by gardeners. I remember how my grandmother, on entering the potting shed of the kitchen-garden, beheld to her chagrin a row of slaughtered “ bullies” lying on a shelf, and how, on remonstrating with the head-gardener —an old character from Norfolk—she was placed on the horns of a dilemma by being asked, ‘* Which dew your ladyship want, them there birds or gooseberries ? for yeou can’t have both on ’em, that’s sartin sure.” After all, gooseberries are not a joy for ever ; indeed my recollections of boyish raids amongst their bushes, with the consequences thereof, are vivid of anything but joy ; and yet what fun it was, especially enhanced by the fact that the old gardener looked upon one as an enemy to his fruit, and as great a thief, as he did upon the bullfinches. It was a high-walled garden, and one day when the old jailor seemed less vigilant than usual, so that we boys had managed to have our fill, we found to our consternation that all the doors Houses &¥ Gardens 19 were firmly locked and our egress barred. Once bit, twice shy! The old fellow had often tried chasing us off, only to see us disappearing round the corner, to pelt him with plum-stones if he attempted to round it in our pursuit. This time his tactics of war were changed. Ex- perience had made him crafty. As we stood within the prison walls, steps were heard, and voices too! The voices of those in highest authority ! He had locked us in, and hastened to the house to fetch the ‘‘ Missus.” Since we had been forbidden to eat the fruit according to our own judgment and responsibility, we felt proportionately guilty. Like our first parents, we hid, but we were unearthed. I believe I took refuge in the stoke-hole, only to increase my punishment by reason of my brown hol- lands, clean on that morning, being somewhat sweep- like ! Lying in a deck-chair under a splendid group of primeval yew-trees, whose giant stems vie with the cedars, I look up through the sombre tracery of the overhanging branches to the stars above, which are twinkling and shining with the brilliancy and lustre of a night in the tropics ; yet it is the sky of cloudy, misty England, but one of those somewhat rare nights in August when the air is soft and warm after a day of 78° in the shade. The garden is redolent with the delicious scent of the Nicotiana affinis, which is grouped in the long herbaceous border on the outskirts of the lawn, their snowy blossoms gleaming in the darkness, 20 Birds that come to our The birds of the garden and parks are still to the fore, although it is just upon 10 p.M., when the owls have begun to send forth sonorous and mellow notes. Quite close by in the avenue of elms, an old female tawny owl has commenced to call to her family with a shrill plover-like scream (or is it a young bird ?), and is immediately answered by her mate with his Hoo !— Hoo, Hoo, Hoo, Hoo! Apparently a rival has in- truded upon his beat, for quite a chorus ensues ; there are certainly three or four: all in close (proximity Perhaps they are early-hatched birds of the year, for some of the hoots are hoarser than others and not so perfect in intonation, like young cocks learning to crow. But nothing can better that splendid mellow bari- tone of the old owl as it rings out through the still- ness of the beautiful starry night. And there! yes! I can hear a brood of barn-owls snoring in an old elm- tree in the park, where they have been hatched in a hollow caused by one of last winter’s storms, which be- headed the old tree and left it splintered and decrepid. I believe the owls would be attracted to build near one’s house if, in the event of natural nesting-places being scarce, large boxes were nailed up in certain trees. They must be covered in, with a hole in one side near the top, and a platform at the entrance for the birds to settle on. Short-eared owls, which it must be remembered are not garden birds—for they frequent wild moorland—can be delightful as pets, if taken from the nest and reared by hand. An old Oxford acquaintance—an eminent ornithologist—once most kindly sent me one from Cumberland. They Houses & Gardens 21 have beautiful yellow eyes, and can see quite comfort- ably in the daylight, so that one had not to turn night into day in order to enjoy his company. My owl would sit on the hearth-rug, playing with one corner like a puppy with a slipper ; or he would take up his position on the back of a chair, from which he would fly so noiselessly across the room to some other perch, that one would be unaware that he had moved unless one happened to be watching. He would let me stroke his downy head and back, and always uttered a soft chattering noise when I did so. Those miniature owls, to be seen from time to time in Leadenhall Market, have been turned loose by bird-lovers, such as the late Lord Lilford and Mr. Walter Rothschild. Dear little fellows are these pigmy owls, and worthy of a snug home in an old garden or park tree, rather than a stuffy and cramped captivity in the heart of the City! Moths form a large proportion of their diet, I am told, and mice also, I imagine. As to the larger owls, no small amount of the abuse heaped on their round heads is unnecessary and mischievous. Individual birds may be guilty of a partiality for baby pheasants, but that the rats and the mice disappear by the dozen in the owl’s talons there can be no doubt. Those horrible, sneaking, grab-all rats have worked into your aviary and slaughtered half your birds. ‘There is no getting _ rid of them. But go first to the gamekeeper and ask him what happens to the owls; tell him you w7// have a percentage spared, and then see whether the rats are as numerous. I expect not ! 22 Birds that come to our They are the best ratters in the world; and rats are, without exception, the biggest pests. But I don’t want to write about them! They are too ugly and destructive, and have well-nigh extermi- nated their smaller black cousins, who are (or were) so far superior. If you have a pond or a lake on the verge of the lawn, so much the better, for then you can enjoy the com- panionship of birds that are aquatic or semi-aquatic. Sprightly moorhens—which I have already men- tioned en passant—uttering their musical croak, will trip about on the grass, or push their way amongst the water-lily leaves, followed by an active family of black puffballs with scarlet-sheafed bills. Most fascinating little nigger boys, now scrambling over the broad leaves on abnormally large feet, now sheltering be- neath them, or searching there for insects. And if no gun is ever fired near by, if the pond or the lake is kept as a sanctuary, the moorhens, dab- chicks, and kingfishers will soon take advantage of the protection afforded them by becoming familiar deni- zens of a spot that without them would be lacking in late: There, too, the sedge and reed warblers may take up their summer residence, chattering musically amongst the reeds and border plants of the water. When once a place has been peopled with bird life, the blank that its absence causes is markedly noticeable. When I had to shift to another home, despatching a small colony of gulls, storks, cranes, and herons beforehand, the lawn of the old home Houses stor Gardens - 23 became a howling wilderness ; it was like one’s pet room with all the furniture gone, and only the carpet left behind: so much so, that even neighbours not exactly keen upon birds at once noticed the differ- ence, and said that the lawn looked quite deserted. The absence of my birds to me was as severe a trial as empty bookshelves to a bookworm, almost as great a one as empty chairs vacated by friends one has loved to welcome and deplored to part with. LITTLE CRAKE CHAPTERS th WILD AND TAME HOOPOES «“ Now Holbein paints men gloriously, but never looks at birds.” OOPOES seem to be tamer in a wild state in Eastern countries than in Western. In Africa, India, and China they are in certain parts familiar and fearless birds, but those that migrate for the spring and summer months to Europe prefer more secluded meadow lands and woods; yet, if this most lovely bird were suffered to remain at peace as an English migrant, there is little doubt that in time we should look for hoopoes in our gardens in the spring, as we do for cuckoos and nightingales, and the rest. Not a year goes by without specimens of these birds being shot, so that it is impossible for them to make a start in establishing themselves as regular visitors. In 24 Wild & Tame Hoopoes 25 the Scilly Isles, every April brings with it three or four hoopoes, but passing whither, no one knows ; for they arrive only to spend a week or two and are gone again, yet their passage in the vernal migration is an annual event. In the water-meadows and rich low-lying pastures of some parts of England, hoopoes would undoubtedly find an abundance of insect food, and would also be extremely useful in digging out with their long slender bills certain grubs destructive to farming and garden- ing, which many birds with shorter bills may be unable to reach beneath the surface of the earth. Any one who has voyaged up the Nile, has not left Cairo far behind before the hoopoes are evident to the most unnoticing persons. He is a bird of such striking appearance, with his wonderful coronet uplifted on his head, the long, slender, and slightly curved bill, and the beautiful broad butterfly-like wings, banded conspicuously with black and white. Walking through the Egyptian villages, it is an ordinary thing to see one or two hoopoes running quickly over the dried Nile mud, either on the edge of some canal or pool, or else prodding with their bills amongst the refuse that lingers lovingly but unsweetly about the mud hovels of the Arabs. In Egypt there is an abundance of beetles, which probably make up a considerable portion of the hoopoe’s menu, but to judge by.the appalling effluvia that surrounds the nest and young birds, they cannot be altogether nice feeders. Like some people, their sense of taste must be either 26 Wild & ‘Tame Hoopoes absent or else somewhat depraved. ‘They remind me in this respect of a luncheon party I was once at. It was extremely hot summer weather and in London. There was dressed crab, amongst other delectable dishes! One lady guest seemed to be enjoying it so much, that when it came to my turn, I too helped myself. One mouthful was not only quite enough, but too much. I looked round the table; three other guests appeared aghast, portions of the crab untouched upon their plates. ““Isn’t the crab good?” said the hostess. Asaap one else spoke, I ventured to say, ‘‘ Well, I think crabs are very difficult to keep quite fresh in this sort of weather, and fishmongers are not always to be depended upon.” My hostess at once turned to the lady whose appreciation of decaying crab had beguiled me .into tasting it, and said, “ Pray don’t eat it.” But she was too late, for, like the walrus and the carpenter with the oysters, she’d eaten every bit, and (perhaps with due consistence) stuck to it that Aer helping was quzfe good ; yet it was all part of the same old crab ! As with people, so with birds ; there are some who prefer freshly killed food ; there are others who don’t object to its being decidedly tainted, and hoopoes are perhaps to be numbered among the latter. I hold to this because, when a brood of young hoopoes was brought to me by an Arab boy at Assouan, that brood nearly knocked me backwards. But in three days’ time, after they had been fed on clean and fresh food, this disgusting smell had all but faded away, and all young hoopoes that I have ever Miki, Pame Hoopoes 27 come across have equally affected the olfactory nerves. When our dahabeah was moored opposite Assouan, below the first cataract of the Nile, to a sandbank in close proximity to the island of Elephantina, I had ample opportunity for observing the hoopoes. In the early morning, before one was properly awake, two of these birds used to settle on the dahabeah just above one’s cabin window, where they would utter continually their love-song—Hoo, Hoo, Hoo—Hoo, Hoo, Hoo; partly dove and partly cuckoo-like in sound. Mo see the male birds sparmng at each other is extremely pretty, dancing in the air one over the other, like two large butterflies. After I had managed to pick up a smattering of Arabic, I used to endeavour to make known to various Egyptian boys the fact that I was very anxious to obtain a brood of young hoopoes, having been able to utter with what I thought extreme glibness the words “‘Katakit hidadid,” which, being interpreted, means a brood of hoopoes; but whether these youths mis- took my meaning, or else considered that a brood of any birds would suit me equally well, I know not ; at any rate, for a week I was brought nothing but young sparrows, varying in age from three days to ten. It was not in vain, however, that I used to shake my head and say, “‘ La! la! Hidhid, mafish baksheesh,” by which I meant, “ No, no, not that, but hoopoes ; you shall have no present.” Consequently the very next morning—it was early in March—as I was sitting 28 Wild & Tame Hoopoes on the upper deck of the dahabeah under the awning, there came to my ears the sound of much splashing and yelling from the neighbouring island. ‘Through the shallow water that divided it from our sandbank, three of my copper-skinned Arab boys were racing, one of them holding his white robe above his knees out of the water’s reach in one hand, whilst in the other were three struggling ungainly-looking bird forms, which even at some little distance I saw were at any rate not sparrows. “‘Shoof! shoof! hidadid!” (“Look ! look ! hoo- poes!””) cried all the boys simultaneously, and I thought the poor little birds would have been then and there torn to pieces, for each boy tried his best to be the one to hand them over to me, with the usual Arab- like clamour, impetuosity, and excitement. Yes ! sure enough, they were unmistakably hoopoes, easily recognisable even at the age of perhaps a week old. Their crests were already well developed, and the quills that covered their odoriferous bodies showed the black and white bars of the wings and the russet- brown of the general plumage. After having duly rewarded the young Arabs, I placed my hoopoes in a covered basket lined with hay, where at first they huddled into the farthest corner, nearly turning head over heels in their endeavours to escape from my sight, their hind-quarters up in the air, and their heads, with the double row of crest quills widely separated, nearly doubled beneath them. _ And their smell! Well, smell isn’t the word ! At that age hoopoes’ bills are of course not nearly so Wild & Tame Hoopoes 29 long as in the adult bird, and the gape of mouth, with the large yellow edging, is enormous. The only sound at first emitted was a frightened hiss ; but after a few hours, first one and then another began to feed, when they uttered a jarring note, which lasted as long as they stretched up their necks and opened their mouths, with the lovely interior colour of orange-red. They were fed on small pieces of fresh raw meat, mixed with an insectivorous food, brought for the purpose in tins from England. Hoopoes nest very early in Egypt, as early as blackbirds do in England. The first nest | came across was at the end of February, when we were voyaging between the first and second cataract of the Nile, at Kalabsheh, famous for the remains of what must have been one of the most magnificent temples -of Egypt, but now in ruins from the ravages of some great earthquake, aided by Time. Landing at Kalabsheh, and surrounded by the natives of the place, I at once pursued my search for young hoopoes, for I had not yet received the brood just described. It was fast growing dark, and we should be leaving at early dawn on the following morning, so that it was a case of “now or never.” On hearing my inquiries in broken Arabic, a good-look- ing young man stepped out of the crowd and said, “* Aiwa, henna!” (“ Yes, here!’’) pointing with a grace- ful wave of a brown arm and hand towards some rocks at the back of the village. As usually happened, the whole assembly of some thirty or forty men and boys immediately commenced to gesticulate and shout at 3 Wild & Tame Hoopoes me and each other, until I was forced to put my fingers in my ears and run. This seemed to improve matters ; for the original announcer of the whereabouts of a hoopoe’s nest came after me, and plucking my sleeve, said, “’Taala maaya. Henna ! “henna!” (‘Come withme. (Elere! inertia) as he walked ahead through a grove of date-palms, which towered up above us, and through whose grace- ful branches the stars were beginning to gleam with the brilliancy peculiar to an Eastern sky. Then it suddenly struck him that it was already too dark to find the nest without artificial light; so making me by expressive gestures understand that I was to wait whilst he fetched something, he ran off to the daha- beah, returning in a few minutes with a candle and some matches. Then he led me, followed in the near distance by several boys—to whom I vainly shouted “Emshi ruhh” (“Go away ”)—towards the rocks that skirted the mud houses of the village. Clambering up to a narrow fissure formed by one huge boulder on another, he lighted the candle and peered in, his black eyes glittering near the flame ; whilst I followed, a boy on either side supporting either arm, under the impression that I couldn’t pos- sibly manage the rocky ground without such aid. It was evident that my original guide knew what he was about, for he at once turned to me and pointed into the fissure. With much difficulty, and after nearly frizzling off the tip of my nose, I at last dis- cerned, about four feet in—a hoopoe. The fissure was so narrow that even she could not stand upright. Wild & Tame Hoopoes 31 There was such a flooring of sand and small stones within that it was impossible by the light of one candle, which cast shadows of every shape and form, to see whether there were any eggs or young ones; but when I attempted to state my disbelief in their exist- ence, I was met by a hurricane of denials. ‘‘ Young ones! young ones!” Att first I thought that, with the usual ignorance of the Egyptian (or Nubian) country- man about birds, he was under the impression that the undoubted adult bird was a young one, and conse- quently I vehemently denied his assertion. But no! again he said “‘ Young ones! young ones!” whilst the other boys caught the refrain in chorus. And he was right, for cutting a long and slender palm _ branch, which he inserted into the inmost depths of the fissure, just in front of the poor frightened hoopoe, he gradually, and with much difficulty, scooped towards the opening a poor wretched little bird of a few hours old, which was rolled over and over on the rocky floor- ing, until it was within reach of his arm. It seemed futile to attempt to rear it by hand, and equally so to push it back into the depths of the rocky nest ; so I took it, and kept it alive for twenty-four hours, during which time it fed well, and really collapsed, I believe, from suffocation, having wriggled its poor small pink body into a deep fold of the flannel in which it had been wrapped, so that its wobbly head was bent under its breast. It would have been a triumph to have reared it. At that early age the fluff on the head was largely developed in the form of a crest, but the bill was quite short, as with any other young bird. 32 Wild & ‘Tame Hoopoes I succeeded in bringing to Cairo seven well-grown hoopoes, and, much as I loved them, could I ever go through such a business again? I think never! They had to be fed constantly, and each bird had to be taken out of the cage in turn, so that the food could be placed in its mouth; for otherwise it was thrown about inside the cage, and the birds would have ended in being half starved. As I was staying for two days in Cairo before leaving for England, I used to allow two of the hoopoes, which were particularly tame, to fly about upon the spacious balcony which opened from my sitting-room, and very pretty it was to see them sun- ning themselves on the balustrade, lying down and spreading out their wings, crests, and tails to catch the full heat, until they looked, with their black and white bands and bars, like some puzzle or kaleido- scope. The cage in which they lived was an Egyptian one, made of cane, with a sliding door. With constant opening and shutting, this door slid back extremely easily, so that perhaps my horror may be imagined when, on returning from the bazaars one morning, I found the door pushed back, and all seven hoopoes flitting about in the trees which grew opposite the hotel. Kites and wicked grey crows (the wretches !) were gathering round, eyeing my poor innocent hoopoes, some of which, highly delighted at finding themselves at liberty, were preening their feathers and erecting their crests, and looking generally perky. That I, should ever recover them all agaimy ul