Part 11

The most wonderful thing in the construction of these nests is the method to which the little bird has recourse to keep united the living leaves of which it is composed. The sole in the weaving, more or less delicate, of the materials, forms the principle adopted by other birds to bind together the walls of their nests; but this sylvia is no weaver, for the leaves of the sedges or reeds are united by real stitches. In the edge of each leaf she makes, probably with her beak, minute apertures, through which she contrives to pass, perhaps by means of the same organ, one or more cords formed of spiders' web, particularly that of their egg-pouches. Those threads are not very long, and are sufficient to pass two or three times from one leaf to another. They are of unequal thickness, and have knots here and there, which, in some places, divide into two or three branches.

This is the manner in which the exterior of the nest is formed: the interior consists mainly of down, chiefly from plants, a little spiders' web being intermixed, which helps to keep the other substances together. The upper part and sides of the nest, that is, the external and internal, are in immediate contact; but in the lower part a greater space intervenes, filled with the slender foliage of grasses, and other materials, which render soft and warm the bed on which the eggs are to repose. This little bird feeds on insects. Its flight is rectilinear, but consists of many curves, with the concavity upwards. These curves equal in number the strokes of the wing, and at every stroke its whistle is heard, the intervals of which correspond with the rapidity of its flight.

The Australian Bower-bird, as its name implies, builds its nest like an arbour or bower, with twigs: in the British Museum are two specimens, each decorated--one with bones and fresh-water shells, and the other with feathers and land-shells; remarkable instances of taste for ornament already referred to in a preceding page. The Satin or Bower-bird is described by settlers in Australia as "a very troublesome rascal," which besets gardens; if once allowed to make a lodgment there it is very troublesome to get rid of him; he signalizes his arrival by pulling up, in his restless fussy way, everything in the garden that he can tug out of the ground, even to the little sticks to mark the site of seeds. A settler had formed a garden in the bush; there was no enclosure of the kind for miles in any direction: a flock of Bower-birds came; he got his gun and shot two or three; the flock went off, and he never saw another bird of the kind.

The Cape Swallows build nests which show extraordinary instinct allied to reason. A pair of these built their nest on the outside of a house at Cape Town against the angle formed by the wall and the board which supported the eaves. The whole of this nest was covered in, and it was furnished with a long neck or passage, through which the birds passed in and out. It resembled a longitudinal section of a Florence oil flask. This nest having crumbled away after the young birds had quitted it, the same pair, or another of the same species, built on the old foundation again. But this time an improvement was observable in the plan of it that can hardly be referred to the dictates of mere instinct. The body of the nest was of the same shape as before, but instead of a single passage it was furnished with one at each side, running along the angle of the roof; and on watching the birds, they were seen invariably to go in at one passage and come out at the other. Besides saving themselves the trouble of turning in the nest and disturbing, perhaps, its interior arrangement, they were guarded by this contrivance against a surprise by serpents, which frequently creep up along the wall, or descend from the thatch, and devour both the mother and her brood.

Dr. Livingstone relates a very curious instance of "Bird Confinement" under very strange circumstances. In passing through Mopane country, in South Africa, his men caught a great number of the birds called _Korwé_ in their breeding-places, which were holes in the mopane trees. They passed the nest of a Korwé just ready for the female to enter; the orifice was plastered on both sides, but a space was left of a heart shape, and exactly the size of the bird's body. The hole in the tree was in every case found to be prolonged some distance upwards above the opening, and thither the Korwé always fled to escape being caught. In another nest that was found, one white egg, much like that of a pigeon, was laid, and the bird dropped another when captured: she had four besides in the ovarium. Dr. Livingstone first saw this bird at Kolenbeng in the forest: he saw a slit only, about half an inch wide and three or four inches long, in a slight hollow of a tree; a native broke the clay which surrounded the slit, put his arm into the hole, and brought out a red-beaked Hornbill, which he killed. He told Dr. Livingstone that when the female enters her nest she submits to a real confinement. The male plasters up the entrance, leaving only a narrow slit by which to feed his mate, and which exactly suits the form of his beak. The female makes a nest of her own feathers, lays her eggs, hatches them, and remains with the young till they are fully fledged. During all this time, which is stated to be two or three months, the male continues to feed her and the young family. The prisoner generally becomes quite fat, and is esteemed a very dainty morsel by the natives; while the poor slave of a husband gets so lean that, on the sudden lowering of the temperature, which sometimes happens after a fall of rain, he is benumbed, falls down, and dies.

Dr. Livingstone, on passing the same tree at Kolenbeng about eight days afterwards, found the hole plastered up again, as if, in the short time that had elapsed, the disconsolate bird-husband had procured another wife. Dr. L. saw a nest with the plastering not quite finished, and others completed; he also received elsewhere, besides Kolobeng, the same account that the bird comes forth when the young are fully-fledged, at the period when the corn is ripe; indeed, her appearance abroad with her young is one of the signs they have for knowing when it ought to be so: the time is between two and three months. She is said sometimes to hatch two eggs, and, when the young of these are full-fledged, the other two are just out of the egg-shells: she then leaves the nest with the two elder, the orifice is again plastered up, and both male and female attend to the wants of the young.

There is a specimen of a nest in the Gardens of the Zoological Society, which merits description, besides that of the Bower-bird. Such is the nest of the Brush Turkey, which appears more like a small haystack than an ordinary nest, and the methodical manner in which it is constructed is thus described:--Tracing a circle of considerable radius, the birds begin to travel round it, continually grasping with their huge feet the leaves and grasses and dead twigs which are lying about, and flinging them inwards towards the centre. Each time that they complete their round, they narrow their circle, so that in a short time they clear away a circular belt, having in its centre a low irregular mass. By repeating the same process, however, they decrease the diameter of the mound as they increase its height, and at last a large and rudely conical mound is formed.

In this nest as many as a bushel of eggs are deposited, at regular intervals, long end downwards. The leaves form a fermenting mass, which relieves the mother of the necessity of setting upon them. The male, however, has to regulate the temperature of the mass, which would otherwise get too hot. This he does by making a central ventilating shaft, which carries off the superfluous heat; and, lest the temperature should fall too low, he is constantly engaged in covering and uncovering the eggs in order to hit the exact temperature to be applied until the egg is warmed into life.

FOOTNOTE:

[10] Abridged from the "Saturday Review."

THE EPICURE'S ORTOLAN.

We have allotted this bird to the epicure, because it is rarely heard of but in association with his luxurious table. Mr. Beckford describes the Ortolans among the delicacies which he saw in the kitchen of the monastery of Batalha as "lumps of celestial fatness."

Ortolan is the French and English names for a species of _Fringillidæ_ (Finches). It is the _Hortulanus_ of Gesner and other naturalists; _Miliaria pinguescens_ of Frisch; _Emberiza Hortulana_ of Linnæus; _Ortolano_ of the Italians generally; _Tordino Berluccio_ of the Venetians; _Garton Ammer_ and _Fetammer_ of the Germans; and _Gerste Keneu_ of the Netherlanders. This wide dispersion on the Continent bespeaks the pet character of the bird. Montagu terms it the Green-headed Bunting.

The French have a fanciful derivation of the name: they say it is from the Italian word for gardener, which is from the Latin _hortus_, garden; because, according to Menage, in Italy, where the bird is common, it is quite at home in the hedges of gardens.

The male bird has the throat, circle round the eyes, and a narrow band springing from the angle of the bill, yellow; head and neck grey, with a tinge of olive, and small brown spots; feathers black, edged with red; breast, belly, and abdomen, reddish grey, the feathers terminated with ash-colour; tail blackish, two external feathers, in part white; length rather more than six inches. There are, also, varieties marked white, green, blackish, and entirely black. The nest, which is constructed of fibres of plants and leaves, is frequently found on the ground in corn-fields, and sometimes in hedges and bushes.

The Ortolan is not famed for its song, which is, however, soft and sweet. Like the Nightingale, to which it has other points of resemblance, the Ortolan sings after, as well as before sunset. It was this bird that Varro, the lyric poet, called his companion by night and day.

The south of Europe may be considered the summer and autumnal head-quarters of the Ortolan, though it is a summer visitor in the central and northern parts. In Italy it is said to be common by Temminck and others. The Prince of Musignano states it to be found in the Sabine mountains; adding that it rarely flies in the plains of Rome, but is frequent in Tuscany. Lapland, Russia, Denmark. Sweden, and Norway, are among the countries visited by it. In the British Isles it seems only entitled to rank as an autumnal visitor, but it may occur more frequently than is generally supposed; for, especially to an unpractised eye, it might be mistaken for the Yellow Hammer, and in some states of plumage for other Buntings. It has been taken in the neighbourhood of London. In 1837 there was a live specimen in an aviary of the Zoological Society in Regent's-park; and many Ortolans are sent alive to the London market from Prussia. There is, however, some consolation for the rarity of the Ortolan in England. It is approached in delicacy by our Wheatear, which is termed the _English Ortolan_. Hence it has been pursued as a delicate morsel throughout all its island haunts. Bewick captured it at sea, off the coast of Yorkshire, in May, 1822. Every spring and autumn it may be observed at Gibraltar, on its migration. Mr. Strickland saw it at Smyrna in April. North Africa is its winter residence. Colonel Sykes notes it in his catalogue of the birds of the Deccan.

Ortolans are solitary birds; they fly in pairs, rarely three together, and never in flocks. They are taken in traps from March or April to September, when they are often poor and thin; but if fed with plenty of millet-seed and other grain, they become sheer lumps of fat, and delicious morsels. They are fattened thus in large establishments in the south of Europe; Mr. Gould states this to be effected in Italy, and the south of France, in dark rooms; and the Prince of Musignano, having described the process, adds the relishing words. "Carne exquisita."

The fattening process in Italy is one of great refinement in the manner of feeding. It is the fat of the Ortolan which is so delicious; but it has a peculiar habit of feeding which is opposed to the rapid fattening, this is, it feeds only at the rising of the sun. Yet this peculiarity has not proved an insurmountable obstacle to the Italian gourmands. The Ortolans are placed in a dark chamber, perfectly dark, with only one aperture in the wall. The food is scattered over the floor of the chamber. At a certain hour in the morning the keeper of the birds places a lantern in the orifice of the wall; when the dim light thrown from the lantern on the floor of the apartment induces the Ortolans to believe that the sun is about to rise, and they greedily consume the food upon the floor. More food is now scattered over it, and the lantern is withdrawn.

The Ortolans, rather surprised at the shortness of the day, think it their duty to fall asleep, as night has spread her sable mantle round them. During sleep, little of the food being expended in the production of force, most of it goes to the formation of muscle and fat. After they have been allowed to repose for one or two hours, in order to complete the digestion of the food taken, their keeper again exhibits the lantern through the aperture. The "rising sun" a second time illumines the apartment, and the birds, awaking from their slumber, apply themselves voraciously to the food on the floor; after having discussed which, they are again enveloped in darkness. Thus the sun is made to shed its rising rays into the chamber floor four or five times every day, and as many nights following. The Ortolans thus treated become like little balls of fat in a few days. This not uninteresting process has been detailed by Dr. Lyon Playfair to the Royal Agricultural Society. It may, probably, be applied to purposes with less luxurious objects than fattening Ortolans.

Notwithstanding its delicacy, the Ortolan fattens very fast; and it is this lump of fatness that is its merit, and has sometimes caused it to be preferred to the Becafico. According to Buffon, the Greeks and Romans understood fattening the Ortolan upon millet. But a lively French commentator doubts this statement: he maintains that had the ancients known the Ortolan, they would have deified it, and built altars to it upon Mount Hymettus and the Saniculum; adding, did they not deify the horse of Caligula, which was certainly not worth an Ortolan? and Caligula himself, who was not worth so much as his horse? However, this dispute belongs to the "classics of the table."

The Ortolan is considered sufficiently fat when it is a handful, and is judged by feeling it, and not by appearance. It should not be killed with violence, like other birds; this might crush and bruise the delicate flesh, and spoil the _coup-d'oeil_, to avoid which it is recommended to plunge the head of the Ortolan into a glass of brandy. The culinary instruction is as follows: having picked the bird of its feathers, singe it with the flame of paper or spirits of wine; cut off the beak and ends of the feet; do not draw it; put it into a paper case soaked in olive oil, and broil it over a slow fire of slack cinders, like that required for a pigeon _à la crapaudine_; in a few minutes the Ortolan will swim in its own fat, and will be cooked. Some gourmands wrap each bird in a vine-leaf.

A gourmand will take an Ortolan by the legs and craunch it in delicious mouthfuls, so as absolutely to lose none of it. More delicate feeders cut the bird into quarters, and lay aside the gizzard; the rest may be eaten, even to the bones, which are sufficiently tender for the most delicate mouth to masticate without inconvenience.

On the Continent, Ortolans are packed in tin boxes for exportation. They may be bought in London for half-a-crown a-piece. A few poulterers import Ortolans in considerable numbers, and some have acquired the art of fattening these birds.[11] Alexis Soyer put into the hundred guinea dish which he prepared for the royal table at the grand banquet at York, in 1850, five pounds worth of Ortolans, which were obtained from Belgium.

FOOTNOTE:

[11] The Ortolan figures in a curious anecdote of individual epicurism in the last century. A gentleman of Gloucestershire had one son, whom he sent abroad to make the grand tour of the Continent, where he paid more attention to the cookery of nations, and luxurious living, than anything else. Before his return his father died and left him a large fortune. He now looked over his note-book to discover where the most exquisite dishes were to be had, and the best cooks obtained. Every servant in his house was a cook; his butler, footman, coachman, and grooms--all were cooks. He had also three Italian cooks--one from Florence, another from Vienna, and another from Viterbo--for dressing one Florentine dish. He had a messenger constantly on the road between Brittany and London to bring the eggs of a certain kind of plover found in the former country. This prodigal was known to eat a single dinner at the expense of 70_l._, though there were but two dishes. In nine years he found himself getting poor, and this made him melancholy. When totally ruined, having spent 150,000_l._, a friend one day gave him a guinea to keep him from starving, and he was found in a garret next day _broiling an Ortolan_, for which he had paid a portion of the alms.

TALK ABOUT TOUCANS.

The Toucans, a family of climbing-birds of tropical America, appear to have been known in Europe by the length and great size of their bills, long before the birds themselves found their way to England. Belon, in 1555, described the bill of one of the family as half a foot long, large as a child's arm, pointed, and black at the tip, white elsewhere, notched on the edges, hollow within, and so finely delicate as to be transparent and thin as parchment; and its beauty caused it to be kept in the cabinets of the curious. For more than a century after Belon's work, the birds themselves had not been seen in England; for, in the _Museum Tradescantianum_, the standard collection of the time, and which, from the list of contributors, appears to have been the great receptacle for all curiosities, we read of an "Azacari (or Toucan) of Brazil; has his beak four inches long, almost two thick, like a Turk's sword" (A.D. 1656). From this description Tradescant knew the nature of the bird, if he had not seen it.

Mr. Swainson states, that the enormous bills give to these birds a most singular and uncouth appearance. Their feet are formed like those of the parrot, more for grasping than climbing; and as they live among trees, and proceed by hopping from branch to branch, their grasping feature is particularly adapted for such habits. They live retired in the deep forests, mostly in small companies. Their flight is strait and laborious, but not graceful; while their movements, as they glide rather than hop from branch to branch, are elegant.

Mr. Gould, in his grand Monograph of the Toucans, or _Ramphastidæ_, remarks, that it was only within a few years of the time of Linnæus that actual specimens of the Toucan had been received in Europe. The beaks, however, of these birds, regarded as curiosities, had occasionally found their way to our shores, and had occasioned some curious conjectures. The earliest shape resembled a Turkish scimitar.

The Toucans (a word derived from their Brazilian name, _Taca, Tucà_) received from Linnæus the title of _Ramphastos_, in allusion to the great volume of the beak ([Greek: ramphos]--Ramphos), a family (_Ramphastidæ_). In some respects, indeed, they resemble the Hornbills in the development of the beak. The Toucans may be said to represent in America the Hornbills in India and Africa. Large as is the beak of the Toucan compared with the size of the body, it is in reality very light. Its outer sheathing is somewhat elastic, very thin, smooth, and semi-transparent; and the interior consists of a maze of delicate cells, throughout which the olfactory nerves are multitudinously distributed. The nostrils are basal, the edges of each mandible are serrated, and the colouring of the whole beak is bright, rich, and often relieved by contrasted markings. But these tints begin to fade after death, and become ultimately dissipated. The eyes are surrounded by a considerable space of naked skin, often very richly tinted. The tongue is very long, slender, horizontally flattened, pointed, and, except at its base, horny; it is fringed or feathered along each side. The wings are short, concave, and comparatively feeble.

The tail is variable, equal and squared; it is remarkable for the facility with which it can be retroverted or turned up, so as to lie upon the back. This peculiarity results from a modification of structure in the caudal vertebræ, which enables the tail to turn with a jerk by the action of certain muscles, as if it were fixed on a hinge put into action by means of a spring. When the retroversion is accomplished, the muscles which caused it become passive, and offer no resistance to their antagonists, which restore the tail to its ordinary direction. When they sleep they puff out their plumage, they retrovert the tail over the back, draw the head between the shoulders; the bill begins to turn over the right shoulder, and becomes at last buried in the plumage of the back; at the same time the pinions of the wings droop, and conceal the feet. The bird now resembles an oval ball of puffed-up feathers, and is well protected against the cold.

Toucans utter, from time to time, harsh, clattering, and discordant cries. "Some," says Mr. Gould, "frequent the humid woods of the temperate regions, while others resort to comparatively colder districts, and dwell at an elevation of from six to ten thousand feet. Those inhabiting the lofty regions are generically different from those residing in the low lands, and are clothed in a more thick and sombre-coloured plumage. All the members of the Hill-Toucans are distinguished by their bills being strong, heavy, and hard, when compared with those of the true Toucans and Araçaris, all of which have their bills of a more delicate structure, and in several species so thin and elastic on the sides as to be compressible between the fingers." Their food in a state of nature consists of fruit, eggs, and nestling birds; to which, in domestication, are added small birds, mice, caterpillars, and raw flesh. They incubate in the hollows of gigantic trees.

Faber was told by Fryer, Alaysa, and other Spaniards who had lived long in America, and also by the Indians, that the Toucan even hews out holes in trees, in which to nidify; and Oviedo adds, that it is from this habit of chipping the trees that the bird is called by the Spaniards _Carpintero_, and by the Brazilians _Tacataca_, in imitation, apparently, of the sound it thus makes.

The larger feed upon bananas and other succulent plants; the smaller upon the smaller fruits and berries. Prince Maximilian de Wied states, that in Brazil he found only the remains of fruits in their stomachs, and adds, that they make sad havoc among plantations of fruit-trees. He was informed, however, that they steal and eat birds, but never himself saw them in the act. They abound in the vast forests, and are killed in great number in the cooler season in the year for the purposes of the table. In their manners the Toucans resemble the Crow tribe, and especially the Magpies: like them, they are very troublesome to the birds of prey, particularly to the Owls, which they surround, making a great noise, all the while jerking their tails upwards and downwards. Their feathers, especially from their yellow breasts, are used by the Indians for personal decoration.