CERTAIN birds are known to utter strange sounds, the origin of which has much puzzled the ornithologists. The Brown Owl which hoots, is hence called the Screech Owl: a musical friend of Gilbert White tried all the Owls that were his near neighbours with a pitch-pipe set at a concert pitch, and found they all hooted in B flat; and he subsequently found that neither Owls nor Cuckoos keep to one note. The Whidah Bird, one of the most costly of cage-birds, rattles its tail-feathers with a noise somewhat resembling that made by the rattle-snake. The Chinese Starling, in China called Longuoy, in captivity is very teachable, imitating words, and even whistling tunes: we all remember Sterne's Starling. The Piping Crow, to be seen in troops in the Blue Mountains, is named from its ready mimicry of other birds: its imitation of the chucking and cackling of a hen and the crowing of a cock, as well as its whistling of tunes, are described as very perfect: its native note is said to be a loud whistle. The Blue Jay turns his imitative faculty to treacherous account: he so closely imitates the St. Domingo Falcon as to deceive even those acquainted with both birds; and the Falcon no sooner appears in their neighbourhood than the jays swarm around him and insult him with their imitative cries; for which they frequently fall victims to his appetite. The Bullfinch, according to Blumenbach, learns to whistle tunes, to sing in parts, and even to pronounce words. The note of the Crowned Crane has been compared by Buffon to the hoarseness of a trumpet; it also clucks like a hen. Mr. Wallace, in his "Travels on the Amazon," saw a bird about the size and colour of the Raven, which uttered a loud, hoarse cry, like some deep musical instrument, whence its Indian name, Ueramioube, Trumpet Bird: it inhabits the flooded islands of the Rio Negro and the Solimoes, never appearing on the mainland. [12] The only sound produced by Storks is by snapping their bills. The Night Heron is called the Qua Bird; from its note Qua.

The Bittern, the English provincial names of which are the Mire-drum, Bull of the Bog, &c., is so called for the bellowing or drumming noise or booming for which the bird is so famous. This deep note of the "hollow-sounding Bittern" is exerted on the ground at the breeding season, about February or March. As the day declines he leaves his haunt, and, rising spirally, soars to a great height in the twilight. Willughby says that it performs this last-mentioned feat in the autumn, "making a singular kind of noise, nothing like to lowing." Bewick says that it soars as above described when it changes its haunts. Ordinarily it flies heavily, like the Heron, uttering from time to time a resounding cry, not bellowing; and then Willughby, who well describes the bellowing noise of the breeding season, supposes it to be the Night Raven, at whose "deadly voice" the superstitious wayfarer of the night turned pale and trembled. "This, without doubt," writes Willughby, "is that bird our common people call the Night Raven, and have such a dread of, imagining its cry portends no less than their death or the death of some of their near relations; for it flies in the night, answers their description of being like a flagging collar, and hath such a kind of hooping cry as they talk of." Others, with some reason, consider the Qua Bird already mentioned (which utters a loud and most disagreeable noise when on the wing, conveying the idea of the agonies of a person attempting to vomit) to be the true Night Raven. The Bittern was well known to the ancients, and Aristotle mentions the fable of its origin from staves metamorphosed into birds. The long claw of the hind toe is much prized as a toothpick, and in the olden times it was thought to have the property of preserving the teeth.

The Greater-billed Butcher Bird, from New Holland, has extraordinary powers of voice: it is trained for catching small birds, and it is said to imitate the notes of some other birds by way of decoying them to their destruction.

The mere imitative sounds of Parrots are of little interest compared with the instances of instinct, apparently allied to reason, which are related of individuals. Of this tribe the distinguishing characteristics are a hooked bill, the upper mandible of which is moveable as well as the lower, and not in one piece with the skull, as in most other birds, but joined to the head by a strong membrane, with which the bird lifts it or lets it fall at pleasure. The bill is also round on the outside and hollow within, and has, in some degree, the capacity of a mouth, allowing the tongue, which is thick and fleshy, to play freely; while the sound, striking against the circular border of the lower mandible, reflects it like a palate: hence the animal does not utter a whistling sound, but a full articulation. The tongue, which modulates all sounds, is proportionally larger than in man.

The Wild Swan has a very loud call, and utters a melancholy cry when one of the flock is killed; hence it was said by the poets to sing its own dying dirge. Such was the popular belief in olden times; and, looking to the anatomical characteristics of the species, it was, in some degree, supported by the more inflated wind-pipe of the wild when compared with that of the tame species. The Song of the Swan is, however, irreconcileable with sober belief, the only noise of the Wild Swan of our times being unmelodious, and an unpleasing monotony.

The Laughing Goose is named from its note having some resemblance to the laugh of man; and not, as Wilson supposes, from the grinning appearance of its mandibles. The Indians imitate its cry by moving the hand quickly against the lips, whilst they repeat the syllable wah.

The Cuckoo may be said to have done much for musical science, because from that bird has been derived the minor scale, the origin of which has puzzled so many; the Cuckoo's couplet being the minor third sung downwards.

The Germans are the finest appreciators of the Nightingale; and it is a fact, that when the Prussian authorities, under pecuniary pressure, were about to cut down certain trees near Cologne, which were frequented by Nightingales, the alarmed citizens purchased the trees in order to save the birds and keep their music. Yet one would think the music hardly worth having, if it really sounded as it looks upon paper, transcribed thus by Bechstein, from whom it is quoted by Broderip:—

M. Wichterich, of Bonn, remarks:—"It is a vulgar error to suppose that the song of the Nightingale is melancholy, and that it only sings by night. There are two varieties of the Nightingale; one which sings both in the night and the day, and one which sings in the day only."

In the year 1858, Mr. Leigh Sotheby, in a letter to Dr. Gray, of the British Museum, described a marvellous little specimen of the feathered tribe—a Talking Canary. Its parents had previously and successfully reared many young ones, but three years before they hatched only one out of four eggs, the which they immediately neglected, by commencing the rebuilding of a nest on the top of it. Upon this discovery, the unfledged and forsaken bird, all but dead, was taken away and placed in flannel by the fire, when, after much attention, it was restored, and then brought up by hand. Thus treated, and away from all other birds, it became familiarised only with those who fed it; consequently, its first singing notes were of a character totally different to those usual with the Canary.

Constantly being talked to, the bird, when about three months old, astonished its mistress by repeating the endearing terms used in talking to it, such as "Kissie, kissie," with its significant sounds. This went on, and from time to time the little bird repeated other words; and then, for hours together, except during the moulting season, it astonished by ringing the changes, according to its own fancy, and as plainly as any human voice could articulate them, on the several words, "Dear sweet Titchie" (its name), "kiss Minnie," "Kiss me, then, dear Minnie." "Sweet pretty little Titchie," "Kissie, kissie, kissie." "Dear Titchie," "Titchie wee, gee, gee, gee, Titchie. Titchie."

The usual singing-notes of the bird were more of the character of the Nightingale, mingled occasionally with the sound of the dog-whistle used about the house. It is hardly necessary to add, that the bird was by nature remarkably tame.

In 1839, a Canary-bird, capable of distinct articulation, was exhibited in Regent-street. The following were some of its sentences:—"Sweet pretty dear," "Sweet pretty dear Dicky," "Mary," "Sweet pretty little Dicky dear;" and often in the course of the day, "Sweet pretty Queen." The bird also imitated the jarring of a wire, the ringing of a bell; it was three years old, and was reared by a lady who never allowed it to be in the company of other birds. This Canary died in October, 1839; it was, it is believed, the only other talking instance publicly known.

We read of some experiments made in the rearing of birds at Kendal by a bird-fancier, the result of which was, that upwards of 20 birds—Canaries. Greenfinches, Linnets, Chaffinches, Titlarks, and Whitethroats—were reared in one cage by a pair of Canaries. The experiments were continued until the extraordinary number of thirty-eight birds had been brought up within two months by the Canaries. It may be worth while to enumerate them.

In the month of June the Canaries—the male green, and the female piebald—were caged for the purpose of breeding. The female laid five eggs, and while she was sitting a Greenfinch egg was introduced into the nest. All of these were hatched, and the day after incubation was completed five Grey Linnets, also newly hatched, were put into the cage, in their own nest. Next day a newly-hatched nest of four Chaffinches was also introduced; and afterwards five different nests, consisting of six Titlarks, six Whitethroats, three Skylarks, three Winchars, and three Blackcaps. While rearing the last of these nests, the female Canary again laid and hatched four eggs, thus making thirty-eight young birds brought up by the pair of Canaries. It will be noticed that most of these birds are soft-billed, whose natural food is small insects; but they took quite kindly to the seeds upon which they were fed by their step-parents. The pair of Canaries fed at one time twenty-one young birds, and never had less than sixteen making demands upon their care; and while the female was hatching her second nest she continued to feed the birds that occupied the other nest.

Of the origin of the neighing sound which accompanies the single Snipe's play-flight during pairing-time, opinions are various. Bechstein thought it was produced by means of the beak; Naumann and others, again, that it originated in powerful strokes of the wing. Pratt, in Hanover, observing that the bird makes heard its well-known song or cry, which he expresses with the words, "gick jack, gick jack!" at the same time with the neighing sound, it seemed to be settled that the latter is not produced through the throat. In the meantime, M. Meves, of Stockholm, remarked with surprise, that the humming sound could never be observed whilst the bird was flying upwards, at which time the tail is closed; but only when it was casting itself downwards in a slanting direction, with the tail strongly spread out.

M. Meves has written for the Zoological Society a paper upon the origin of this sound, which all the field-naturalists and sportsmen of England and other countries had, for the previous century, been trying to make out, but had failed to discover. Of this paper the following is an abstract:—

This interesting discovery was first announced by M. Meves in an account of the birds observed by himself during a visit to the Island of Gottland, in the summer of the year 1856, which narrative was published at Stockholm in the following winter. In the succeeding summer, M. Meves showed his experiments to Mr. Wolley, whose services to Ornithology we have already noticed. The mysterious noise of the wilderness was reproduced in a little room in the middle of Stockholm: first, the deep bleat, now shown to proceed from the male Snipe, and then the fainter bleat of the female, both most strikingly true to nature, neither producible with any other feathers than the outer ones of the tail.

Mr. Wolley inquired of Mr. Meves how, issuing forth from the town on a summer ramble, he came to discover what had puzzled the wits and strained the eyes of so many observers. He freely explained how, in a number of "Naumannia," an accidental misprint of the word representing tail-feathers instead of wing-feathers,—a mistake which another author ridiculed—first led him to think on the subject. He subsequently examined in the Museum at Stockholm the tail-feathers of various species of Snipe, remarked their structure, and reasoned upon it. Then he blew upon them, and fixed them on levers that he might wave them with greater force through the air; and at the same time he made more careful observation than he had hitherto done in the living birds. In short, in him the obscure hint was thrown upon fruitful ground, whilst in a hundred other minds it had failed to come to light.

Dr. Walsh saw at Constantinople a Woodpecker, about the size of a Thrush, which was very active in devouring flies, and tapped woodwork with his bill with a noise as loud as that of a hammer, to disturb the insects concealed therein, so as to seize upon them when they appeared.

Among remarkable bird services should not be forgotten those of the Trochilos to the Crocodile. "When the Crocodile," says Herodotus, "feeds in the Nile, the inside of his mouth is always covered with bdella (a term which the translators have rendered by that of leech). All birds, except one, fly from the Crocodile; but this one bird, the Trochilos, on the contrary, flies towards him with the greatest eagerness, and renders him a very great service; for every time that the Crocodile comes to the land to sleep, and when he lies stretched out with his jaws open, the Trochilos enters and establishes himself in his mouth, and frees him from the bdella which he finds there. The Crocodile is grateful, and never does any harm to the little bird who performs for him this office."

This passage was long looked upon as a pleasant story, and nothing more; until M. Geoffroy St. Hilaire, during his long residence in Egypt, ascertained the story of Herodotus to be correct in substance, but inexact in details. It is perfectly true that a little bird does exist, which flies incessantly from place to place, searching everywhere, even in the Crocodile's mouth, for the insects which form the principal part of its nourishment. This bird is seen everywhere on the banks of the Nile, and M. Geoffroy has proved it to be of a species already described by Hasselquist, and very like the small winged Plover. If the Trochilos be in reality the little Plover, the bdella cannot be leeches, (which do not exist in the running waters of the Nile) but the small insects known as gnats in Europe. Myriads of these insects dance upon the Nile: they attack the Crocodile upon the inner surface of his palate, and sting the orifice of the glands, which are numerous in the Crocodile's mouth. Then the little Plover, who follows him everywhere, delivers him from these troublesome enemies; and that without any danger to himself, for the Crocodile is always careful, when he is going to shut his mouth, to make some motion which warns the little bird to fly away. At St. Domingo there is a Crocodile which very nearly resembles that of Egypt. This Crocodile is attacked by gnats, from which he would have no means of delivering himself (his tongue, like that of the Crocodile, being fixed) if a bird of a particular species did not give him the same assistance that the Crocodile of the Nile receives from the little Plover. These facts explain the passage in Herodotus, and demonstrate that the animal, there called bdella, is not a leech, but a flying insect similar to our gnat.

Exemplifications of instinct, intelligence, and reason in Birds are by no means rare, but this distinction must be made: instinctive actions are dependent on the nerves, intelligence on the brain; but that which constitutes peculiar qualities of the mind in man has no material organ. The Rev. Mr. Statham has referred to the theory of the facial angle as indicative of the amount of sagacity observable in the animal race, but has expressed his opinion that the theory is utterly at fault in the case of Birds; many of these having a very acute facial angle being considerably more intelligent than others having scarcely any facial angle at all. Size also seems to present another anomaly between the two races of Beasts and Birds; for while the Elephant and the Horse are among the most distinguished of quadrupeds for sagacity and instinct, the larger Birds seem scarcely comparable to the smaller ones in the possession of these attributes. The writer instances this by comparing the Ostrich and the Goose with the Wren, the Robin, the Canary, the Pigeon, and the Crow; and amusingly alludes to the holding of parliaments or convocations of birds of the last species, while the Ostrich is characterised in Scripture as the type of folly.

The author then refers to the poisoning of two young Blackbirds by the parent birds, when they found that they could neither liberate them nor permanently share their captivity. The two fledglings had been taken from a Blackbirds' nest in Surrey-square, and had been placed in a room looking over a garden, in a wicker cage. For some time the old birds attended to their wants, visited them regularly, and fed them with appropriate food; but, at last, getting wearied of the task, or despairing of effecting their liberation, they appear to have poisoned them. They were both found suddenly dead one morning, shortly after having been seen in good health; and on opening their bodies a small leaf, supposed to be that of Solanum Nigrum, was found in the stomach of each. The old birds immediately deserted the spot, as though aware of the nefarious deed befitting their name.

As an exemplification of instinct Dr. Horner states that Rooks built on the Infirmary trees at Hull, but never over the street. One year, however, a young couple ventured to build here: for eight mornings in succession the old Rooks proceeded to destroy the nest, when at last the young ones chose a more fitting place.

Mr. A. Strickland, having referred to the tendency of birds to build their nests of materials of a colour resembling that around such nests, relates an instance in which the Fly-catcher built in a red brick wall, and used for the nest mahogany shavings. Referring to the meeting of Rooks for judicial purposes. Mr. Strickland states that he once saw a Rook tried in this way, and ultimately killed by the rest.

SONGS OF BIRDS AND SEASONS OF THE DAY.

Although nearly half a century has elapsed since the following observations were communicated to the Royal Society by Dr. Jenner, their expressive character is as charming as ever, and their accuracy as valuable:—

FOOTNOTES: