CURIOSITIES RESPECTING BIRDS.—(Continued.)

The Cuckoo.—We shall introduce this curious bird, with the following well-known beautiful piece of poetry:—

Hail, beauteous stranger of the wood,
Attendant on the spring!
Now heav’n repairs thy rural seat,
And woods thy welcome sing.
Soon as the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear:
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year?
Delightful visitant! with thee
I hail the time of flow’rs,
When heaven is fill’d with music sweet
Of birds among the bow’rs.
The school-boy, wand’ring in the wood,
To pull the flow’rs so gay,
Starts, thy curious voice to hear,
And imitates thy lay.
Soon as the pea puts on the bloom,
Thou fly’st thy vocal vale,
An annual guest, in other lands,
Another spring to hail.
Sweet bird! thy bow’r is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year!
O could I fly, I’d fly with thee;
We’d make, with social wing
Our annual visit o’er the globe,
Companions of the spring.

This bird is described, in natural history, as a genus of the order of PicÆ. Generic character: bill smooth, somewhat bending and weak; nostrils surrounded by a small rim; tongue short and arrowed; toes, two forward and two backward; tail wedge-formed, of ten soft feathers. Gmelin enumerates fifty-five species, and Latham forty-six. The following are the most general characteristics of the Cuckoo:—

This bird is about fourteen inches long. It is found in Europe, Asia, and Africa. Its food consists of insects and the larvÆ of moths, but when domesticated, which it may be without much difficulty, it will eat bread, fruits, eggs, and even flesh. When fattened, it is said to be excellent for the table. It is in this country a bird of passage, appearing first about the middle of April, and cheering the vicinity of its habitation with that well-known note, with which so many exquisite ideas and feelings are associated. This note is used only by the male bird, and this is the intimation of love. It has been heard, (though very rarely,) like the song of the nightingale, in the middle of the night. About the close of June this note ceases, but the cuckoo remains in England till towards the end of September. It is imagined sometimes to continue in the country for the whole of the year, as it has occasionally been seen here so early as February. Cuckoos are supposed to winter in Africa, as they are seen twice a year in the island of Malta.

With the history of these birds have been blended much fable and superstition; their manners, however, are unquestionably very curious; and fable in this, as in many other cases, is in a great degree connected with fact. It is almost universally agreed by naturalists, that the cuckoo does not hatch its own eggs, but deposits them in the nest of some other bird. Buffon mentions the names of twenty birds, or more, on which the cuckoo passes this fraud. Those most frequently duped by it, however, in this manner, are the yellow-hammer, the water-wagtail, and the hedge-sparrow; and of these three, by far more than the other two, the hedge-sparrow. The most minute and attentive examiner into this extraordinary peculiarity, is Mr. Edward Jenner; from whose observations on this interesting subject we shall select a few of the most important.

He states, that the hedge-sparrow is generally four or five days in completing her number of eggs, during which time the cuckoo finds an opportunity of introducing one of its own into the nest, leaving the future management of it to the hedge-sparrow; and that, though it frequently occurs that the latter is much discomposed by this intrusion, and several of the eggs are injured by her, and obliged to be removed from the nest, yet the egg of the cuckoo is never of this number. When the usual time of incubation is completed, and the young sparrows and cuckoo are disengaged from the eggs, the former are ejected from the nest, and the stranger obtains exclusive possession. A nest, built in a situation extremely convenient for minute observation, fell under the particular examination of this gentleman, and was found on the first day to contain a cuckoo’s and three hedge-sparrows’ eggs. On the day following, he observed a young cuckoo and a hedge-sparrow, and as he could distinctly perceive every thing passing, he was resolved to watch the events which might take place. He soon, with extreme surprise, saw the young cuckoo, hatched only the day before, exerting itself with its rump and wings to take the young sparrow on its back, which it actually accomplished, and then climbed backwards with its burden to the verge of the nest, from which, with a sudden jerk, it clearly threw off its load; after which it dropped back into the nest, having first, however, felt about with the extremities of its wings, as if to ascertain whether the clearance were completely effected. Several eggs were afterwards put in to the young usurper, which were all similarly disposed of.—He observes, that in another instance, two cuckoos and a hedge-sparrow were hatched in the same nest, and one hedge-sparrow’s egg remained unhatched. Within a few hours, a conflict began between the two cuckoos for the possession of the nest, which was conducted with extreme spirit and vigour, and in which each appeared occasionally to have the advantage, lifting its adversary to the very brink of the nest, and then, from exhaustion of strength, sinking with it again to the bottom. These vicissitudes of success were repeated and reiterated; but towards the close of the following day, the contest was decided by one of them, which was rather the larger of the two, completely expelling his rival; after which, the egg and the young hedge-sparrow were dislodged with extreme facility. The infant conqueror was brought up by the step-mother with the most assiduous affection. The sagacity of the female cuckoo appears not inconsiderable, in her introducing her egg into the nests of birds whose young are inferior in size and strength to the young cuckoo, and which the latter is consequently able to exclude without difficulty from its usurped dominions.

We shall now call the reader’s attention to The Cormorant.—This bird, which is nearly as large as a goose, is found in many places both of the old and the new world; it is to be met with in the northern parts of this island, and one of them, not very long since, was shot while perched on the castle of Carlisle. These birds are shy and crafty, but frequently eat to so great an excess, as to induce a species of lethargy, in which they are caught by nets thrown over them without their making an effort to escape. They are trained by the Chinese to fish for them. By a ring placed round their necks, they are prevented from swallowing what they take, and, when their pouches are filled, they unload them, and at the command of their owners, renew their divings. Two will sometimes be seen combining their efforts to secure a fish too large for the management of one only. When their work is finished to the employer’s satisfaction, the birds have a full allotment of the spoil, for their reward and encouragement. In Macao, also, these birds are thus domesticated, taking extreme delight in the exercise, and constituting a source of very considerable profit to their owners. They were formerly trained, and used in the same manner in England; and Charles I. had an officer of his household, called master of the cormorants.

The next curiosity among birds which we shall introduce, is, The Great Bustard.—This bird is found in the plains of Europe, Asia, and Africa, but it has never been observed in the New Continent. In England, it is occasionally met with on Salisbury Plain, and on the wolds of Yorkshire, and formerly it was not uncommonly seen in flocks of forty or fifty. It is the largest of British land birds, weighing often twenty-five or thirty pounds. It runs with great rapidity, so as to escape the pursuit of common dogs, but falls speedily a victim to the greyhound, which often overtakes it before it has power to commence its flight, the preparation for which, in this bird, is slow and laborious. The female lays her eggs on the bare ground, never more than two in number, in a hole scratched by her for the purpose, and if these are touched or soiled during her occasional absence, she immediately abandons them. The male is distinguished by a large pouch, beginning under the tongue, and reaching to the breast, capable of holding, according to LinnÆus, seven quarts of water. This is sometimes useful to the female during incubation, and to the young before they quit their nest; and it has been observed to be eminently advantageous to the male bird himself, who, on being attacked by birds of prey, has often discomfited his enemies by the sudden and violent discharge of water upon them. These birds are solitary and shy, and feed principally upon grasses, worms, and grain. They were formerly much hunted with dogs, and considered as supplying no uninteresting diversion. They swallow stones, pieces of metal, and other hard substances. Buffon states, that one was opened by the academicians of France, which contained in its stomach ninety doubloons, and various stones, all highly smoothed by the attrition of the stomach.

The following deserves to be ranked among the curiosities of the feathered tribe; The Alarm-Bird.—Near the Coppermine River, which falls into Hudson’s Bay, live a tribe of Indians, who traverse the immense and dreary solitudes that surround them, in pursuit of deer or other game, from which they derive their only subsistence. The animals, however, taught by experience to shun the haunts of men, and instinctively led to conceal themselves in the most sequestered spots, would with difficulty be discovered, were it not for one of the winged tribe of the owl genus, called the alarm-bird.

No sooner does this bird descry man or beast, than it directs its flight towards them, and, hovering over them, forms gyrations round their head. Should two objects at once arrest its attention, it flies from one to the other alternately, with a loud screaming, resembling the crying of a child; and in this manner it will follow travellers, or attend a herd of deer, for the space of a day.

By means of this guide, whose qualities so well correspond with its name, the Copper Indians are apprised of the approach of strangers, or directed to the herds of deer and musk-oxen, which otherwise they would frequently miss. Is it to be wondered at, then, that they hold the alarm-bird in the highest veneration? It seems, indeed, to have been intended by Providence for the solace and friend of the miserable inhabitants of those wild and sterile regions; and will furnish a new evidence of that superintending care which watches over all.

The Cuculus Indicator, so celebrated in the warmer climates for detecting the treasures of the bees, in the deep recesses of the woods, within the hollow trunks of trees, has, or may be thought to have, a view and an object in its services. It feels the want of human assistance, to enable it to enjoy the fruits of its discoveries, and therefore instinctively calls for it, in hopes of being recompensed with a share of the honey, which, we are told, the natives readily allow it; but the alarm-bird appears perfectly disinterested in its labours, it answers no purpose of its own, and therefore may be considered as one of the bounties of Heaven, to a people and a country almost shut out from the participation of the common blessings of life. It confers benefits without the prospect of a reward; and, for this reason, is entitled to the greater regard.

To contemplate the various animals that are dispersed over the globe, and the various blessings and advantages of different climates, will naturally lead us to the Source and Dispenser of all; and though some parts of the works of Creation are more conspicuously beneficial, and cannot escape the most common observer, yet we may, from analogy and reason, conceive that nothing was made in vain.

A subject of great curiosity, and pleasing admiration, is, The Carrier, or, Courier Pigeon.—These birds, though carried, hoodwinked, twenty, thirty, or even a hundred miles, will find their way in a very little time to the place where they were bred. They are trained to this service in Turkey and Persia; and are carried first, while young, short flights of half a mile, afterwards more, till at length they will return from the farthest part of the kingdom. Every bashaw has a basket of these pigeons bred in the seraglio, which from a distance, upon any emergent occasion, (as an insurrection, or the like,) he dispatches, with letters braced under their wings, to the seraglio; which proves a more speedy method, as well as a more safe one, than any other: he sends out more than one pigeon, however, for fear of accidents. Lithgow assures us, that one of these birds will carry a letter from Babylon to Aleppo, which is thirty days’ journey, in forty-eight hours. This practice is very ancient: Hirtius and Brutus, at the siege of Modena, held a correspondence by pigeons; and Ovid tells us, that Taurosthenes, by a pigeon stained with purple, gave notice to his father of his victory at the Olympic games, sending it to him at Ægina. In modern times, the most noted were the pigeons of Aleppo, which served as couriers at Alexandretta and Bagdad. But this use of them has been laid aside for the last thirty or forty years, because the Curd robbers killed the pigeons. The manner of sending advice by them, was this: they took pairs which had young ones, and carried them on horseback to the place whence they wished them to return, taking care to let them have a full view. When the news arrived, the correspondent tied a billet to the pigeon’s foot, and let her loose. The bird, impatient to see its young, flew off like lightning, and arrived at Aleppo in ten hours from Alexandretta, and in two days from Bagdad. It was easy for them to find their way back, as Aleppo may be discovered at an immense distance. This pigeon has nothing peculiar in its form, except its nostrils, which, instead of being smooth and even, are swelled and rough.

It is presumed it will not be out of place to insert the following curious particulars respecting the Multiplying Power of the Wild Pigeon.—The following account is extracted from Janson’s Stranger in America. Mr. Richard Hazen, a land-surveyor, who, in 1741, drew the line which divides Massachusetts from Vermont, gives an interesting account of the multiplying power of nature in the wild pigeon: “For three miles together, (says he,) the pigeons’ nests were so thick, that five hundred might be reckoned on beech-trees at one time, and, could they have been counted on the hemlocks as well, he did not doubt that five thousand might be seen at one turn round. Twenty-five nests were frequently found in one beech-tree, in New England. The earth was covered with these trees and with hemlocks, thus loaded with the nests of pigeons. For one hundred acres together, the ground was covered with their dung, to the depth of two inches. Their noise in the evening was extremely troublesome, and so great, that the traveller could not get any sleep where their nests abounded. About an hour before sun-rise they rose in such quantities as to darken the air. When the young pigeons were grown to a proper size, it was common for the first settlers to cut down the trees, and gather a horse-load in a few minutes. The markets at this season, even at Philadelphia, are often overstocked with them; a score of them have lately been purchased for sixpence. But as the land becomes settled, they retire into the back forests, where they are at this day in equal numbers! In North Carolina, wild pigeons or doves pass over the country in such numbers as to darken the air, devouring all kinds of grain in their progress. A large musket, loaded with small shot, fired among them, has killed scores; and boys knock them down with sticks and stones. I did not see this destructive phenomenon; but was credibly informed at Edenton, that it occurs once in seven, and sometimes in ten years. During my residence in that state, I cut holes in the top of my barn, and, by placing food on the roof, soon enticed about half a dozen from the adjacent woods. In a short time they became domesticated, and fed with the fowl, affording a constant and an agreeable food. When I left my residence, they had, notwithstanding the use I made of the young ones, increased to many scores. They grew so familiar, that they would watch my appearance in the morning, and perch upon me, in hopes of obtaining food, with which it was my practice to supply them. They distinguished me from my domestics, whom they would not suffer to approach them. They would permit me to go into their dovecot, without retreating; but the dam would often oppose my taking her young ones.”

The following account of a singular Bird inhabiting a Volcano in Guadaloupe, is taken from a respectable source.

Father Dutertre, in his Description of Guadaloupe, the best and most beautiful, in his opinion, of all the Leeward islands, speaks of an extraordinary bird which inhabits its volcanic mountain, called La Souffriere. This creature, called the Devil by the inhabitants, on account of its deformity, is both a night and sea bird. During the day, its vision appears to be indistinct, and it takes refuge near the top of the mountain, where it has its nest in the ground, and where it hatches its eggs. During the night, it flies about, and goes to prey on fish. Its flesh is so delicate, (adds Father Dutertre,) that no huntsman returns from the Souffriere without ardently desiring to have a dozen of these birds suspended at his neck. Labat, the colleague of Dutertre, confirms and adds to the account of the latter. “The bird called the Devil, of La Souffriere, has (he says) membranes at his feet like a duck, and claws like a bird of prey, a sharp and curved beak, large eyes, which cannot bear the light of day, or discern almost any object, so that when surprised in the day-time, at a distance from his nest, he runs against every thing in his way, and falls to the ground; but during the night he is active in extracting his prey from the sea.” He adds, that “he is a bird of passage, and is considered a kind of petrel. I have taken pleasure in occasionally observing fishermen catch fish during the night by the light of a straw torch; but here we have a sea-bird of much greater ingenuity, which fishes by the light of a volcano, and hatches his eggs by the warmth of its sulphureous discharge.”

The following story is recorded in history as a fact, under the title of A curious Adventure of an Owl.

In a council held at Rome by Pope John XXIII. at the first session, happened the Adventure of the Owl.—“After the mass of the Holy Ghost, all being seated, and John sitting on his throne, suddenly a frightful owl came screaming out of his hole, and placed himself just before the pope, staring earnestly upon him. The arrival of this nocturnal bird in the day-time, caused many speculations: some took it for an ill omen, and were terrified; others smiled, and whispered to each other. As to the Pope, he blushed, was in a sweat, arose, and brake up the assembly. But at the next session, the owl took his place again, fixing his eyes upon John; who was more dismayed than before, and ordered the bird to be driven away. A pleasant sight it was, to behold the prelates occupied in hunting him, for he would not decamp! At last they killed him, as an incorrigible heretic, by throwing their canes at him.”—Jortin’s Ecclesiastical History, vol. v. p. 485, 486.

We shall next record some Curious Facts in Natural History.—We often meet in our aviaries with what are called mule canary birds, that is, the offspring of the gray linnet and the canary. “In the country, where the domestic fowls are accustomed to wander to a considerable distance from the farm-yard, I believe it is no uncommon occurrence for a chicken to make its appearance, that is evidently the offspring of the partridge and common hen. Indeed, I am inclined to think that the breed between fowls of the same genus are oftener crossed than we are aware of.”

It is a common practice in the country, to set a hen, as it is called, with ducks’ eggs; and the agony which she suffers, when she sees her young charge first take to their natural element, the water, has often been observed with sympathy. The following anecdote may be relied upon, as the circumstance was observed by a gentleman of science:—

A hen, which was employed to hatch some ducks’ eggs in the neighbourhood of a dyer’s mill, where there was a small pond, was observed to exhibit the usual symptoms of terror and alarm when the ducklings first took to the water; but by degrees she became quite reconciled to their habits, and was accustomed to enjoy herself, in great quietness, on the banks, while they gamboled in the pool. For two or three years she uniformly brought out ducklings, and at last, as regularly led them to the water as their natural dam would have done.

In the course of time, however, she brought out a brood of chickens. These she immediately led to the side of the pool also; but, on finding they did not enter the water, she became quite uneasy, invited them close to it, made every motion for them to enter it, flew over the pond, and then called them to follow, but all to no purpose. When she found that nothing would entice them to enter the water, she actually seized upon one or two of them, and threw them into it; and, if she had not been prevented, it is believed she would have drowned her whole progeny. This shews how much the native habits, even of fowls, may be changed by circumstances; and proves, in some degree, the existence of memory without judgment in the feathered tribes.

Some years ago, a farmer in the lower district of Annandale, took it into his head to rob a wild duck of her eggs, and to place them under one of his tame ducks, that was sitting at that time. The young brood (twelve in number) came into the world at the usual period, but one only continued with her stepdame. This extraordinary bird, however, never perfectly acquired the habits or dispositions of her new sisterhood: she never would associate with the tame drakes, but every spring left the farm-yard, and proceeded to the wilds in quest of mates; and, what was remarkably singular, she seemed to have a malicious pleasure in leading them into a snare, and was at great pains to draw them into such situations as admitted of their being easily shot, or otherwise destroyed. She always hatched her young in a peat moss, at some distance from the house, but never failed to bring them to the farm-yard, as soon as they were able to follow her. When this duck was about four years old, the owner was visited by a kinsman from Fife, who was so much taken up with her, that he begged for, and obtained her, as a present. She was put into a cage, and by him conveyed to his house near Kinross. She was kept in confinement for a night and a day; when, seeming perfectly contented, she was let out into the yard, where she set about adjusting herself for some time; she then suddenly took wing, and in the course of a few hours was among her old companions in Annandale. She was a second time conveyed to Fife, and her wings clipped.

She continued perfectly happy, to appearance, till her feathers grew, when she again bade her new friends farewell. She was shot in the neighbourhood of Biggar, by a gentleman, who communicated the circumstance to the owner, whose name he learned from the collar that was found about her neck, containing his name and place of abode.

Formation of the Chick in the Egg.—Scarcely has the hen sat upon the eggs twelve hours, before some lineaments of the head and body of the chick are discernible in the embryo; at the end of the second day, the heart begins to beat, but no blood is to be seen. In forty-eight hours we may distinguish two vesicles with blood, the pulsation of which is evident; one of them is the left ventricle, the other, the root of the great artery; soon after, one of the auricles of the heart is perceptible, in which pulsation may be remarked as well as in the ventricle. So early as the seventh hour, the wings may be distinguished, and on the head two globules for the brain, one for the beak, and two others for the front and hind part of the head. Towards the end of the fourth day, the two auricles, now distinctly visible, approach nearer the heart than they did before. About the fifth day the liver may be perceived; at the end of one hundred and thirty-eight hours, the lungs and stomach become visible; and in a few hours more, the intestines, veins, and upper jaw. On the seventh day, the brain begins to assume a more consistent form. One hundred and ninety hours after incubation, the beak opens, and flesh appears on the breast. In two hundred and ten, the ribs are formed, and the gall bladder is visible. The bile, in a few hours more, is seen of a green colour; and if the chick be separated from its coverings, it will be seen to move. The feathers begin to shoot towards the two hundred and fortieth hour, and at the same time the skull becomes cartilaginous; in twenty-four hours more, the eyes appear; at the two hundred and eighty-eighth, the ribs are perfected; and at the three hundred and thirty-first, the lungs, the stomach, and the breast, assume their natural appearance. On the eighteenth day of incubation, the first faint piping of the chick is heard. It then continually increases in size and in strength till it emerges from its prison.

By so many different gradations does the adorable wisdom of God conduct these creatures into life; all their progressive evolutions are arranged with order, and there are none without sufficient cause. If the liver is always formed on the fifth day, it is from the preceding state of the chick. No part of its body could appear sooner or later, without some injury to the embryo, and each of its members appears at the most convenient moment. The wise and invariable order in the production of this little body, is evidently the work of supernal power; and we shall be more convinced of it, if we consider the manner in which the chick is formed from the parts which compose the egg.

How admirable is that principle of life, the source of a new being, contained in the egg; all the parts of the animal being invisible till they become developed by warmth! What a wonderful order and regularity is observed in this amazing process,—the same evolutions taking place at once in twenty eggs! Neither does changing the position of the egg at all injure the embryo, or retard the formation of the chick; which, at the time when it breaks the shell, is found to be heavier than the whole egg was at first. These, however admirable, are far from being all the wonders displayed in the progress of incubation. The microscope, and the penetrating investigations of the curious, have only discovered what comes more immediately under the observation of our senses; whilst the discovery of many things remains for those who are to follow us, or perhaps they may never be known in this state of our existence. Much might be asked concerning the mystery connected with the formation of animal bodies, which at present is impenetrable to our researches; but let not this discourage us; let us only endeavour to improve, and make a good use of, the little knowledge we are permitted to acquire, and we shall have a sufficiency to discover at every step the wisdom and power of God, and enough to employ for the benefit of our fellow-creatures.