Part 13

Sir Thomas Browne hints at the probability of the Pelican occasionally nibbling or biting itself on the itching part of its breast, upon fulness or acrimony of blood, so as to tinge the feathers in that part. Such an instance is recorded by Mr. G. Bennett of a Pelican living at Dulwich, which wounded itself just above the breast; but no such act has been observed among the Pelicans kept in the menagerie of the Zoological Society or elsewhere; and the instance just recorded was probably caused by local irritation.

Of the same genus as the _Pelican_ is the _Cormorant_, an inhabitant of Europe generally and of America. It swims very deep in the water; even in the sea very little more than the neck and head are visible above the surface. It is a most expert diver, pursuing the fish which forms its food with great activity under water; it is said to be very fond of eels. It perches on trees, where it occasionally builds its nests, but it mostly selects rocky shores and islands. Upon the Fern Islands its nest is composed of a mass of sea-weed, frequently heaped up to the height of two feet. The species is easily domesticated; and its docility is shown by the use often made of Cormorants in fishing. Willughby, quoting Faber, says:--"They are wont in England to train up Cormorants to fishing. When they carry them out of the room where they are kept they take off their hoods, and having tied a leather thong round the lower part of their necks, that they may not swallow down the fish they catch, they throw them into the river. They presently dive under water, and there for a long time, with wonderful swiftness, pursue the fish, and when they have caught them they arise presently to the top of the water, and pressing the fish tightly with the bills, they swallow them, till each bird hath after this manner devoured five or six fishes. Then their keepers call them to the fish, to which they readily fly, and little by little, one after another, vomit up all the fish, a little bruised with the nip they gave them with their bills." When they have done fishing they loosen the string from the birds' necks, and for their reward they throw them part of the prey they have caught, to each, perchance, one or two fishes, which they catch most dexterously in their mouths as they are falling in the air. Pennant quotes Whitelock, who said that he had a cast of them, manned like hawks, and which would come to hand. He took much pleasure in them, and relates that the best he had was one presented him by Mr. Wood, master of the corvorants (as the older name was) to Charles I. Pennant adds, it is well known that the Chinese make great use of a congenerous sort in fishing, and that not for amusement but profit.

Sir George Staunton, in his account of his Embassy to China, describes the place where the _Leu-tze_, or famed fishing-bird of China, is bred and instructed in the art and practice of supplying his owner with fish in great abundance. The bird, a Cormorant, is figured in Sir George's work, with two Chinese fishermen carrying their light boat, around the gunnel of which their Cormorants are perched by a pole resting on their shoulders between them. On a large lake are thousands of small boats and rafts built entirely for this species of fishery. On each boat or raft are ten or a dozen birds, which, on a signal from the owner, plunge into the water; and it is astonishing to see the enormous size of fish with which they return grasped between their bills. They appeared to be so well trained that it did not require either ring or cord about their throats to prevent them from swallowing any portion of their prey except what the master was pleased to return to them for encouragement and food. The boat used by these fishermen is remarkably light, and is often carried to the lake, together with the fishing-birds, by the men who are there to be supported by it.

Belon gives an amusing account of the chase of this bird during calms, especially in the neighbourhood of Venice: the hunt is carried on in very light boats, each of which being rowed by five or six men, darts along the sea like the bolt from an arbalest, till the poor Cormorant, who is shot at with bows as soon as he puts his head above water, and cannot take flight after diving to suffocation, is taken quite tired out by his pursuers.

Cormorant fishing has occasionally been reintroduced upon our rivers. In 1848 there were brought from Holland four tame Cormorants, which had been trained to the Chinese mode of fishing. Upon one occasion they fished three miles on a river, and caught a pannier-full of trout and eels. A ring placed round their necks to prevent them from swallowing large fish, but which leaves them at liberty to gulp down anything not exceeding the size of a gudgeon. The birds on these occasions are put into such parts of the river as are known to be favourite haunts of fish; and their activity under water in pursuit of fish can be compared to nothing so appropriate as a swallow darting after a fly.

Blumenbach tells us the Cormorant occasionally increases in a few years to many thousands on coasts where it was previously unknown. It varies much both in size and colour. The late Joshua Brookes, the surgeon, possessed a Cormorant, which he presented to the Zoological Society.

The Cormorant has a small sabre-shaped bone at the back of its vertex; which bone may serve as a lever in throwing back the head, when the animal tosses the fishes into the air and catches them in its open mouth. The same motion is, however, performed by some piscivorous birds, which are not provided with this particular bone.

Aubrey, in his "Natural History of Wilts," quotes the following weather presage from May's "Virgil's Georgics":--

"The seas are ill to sailors evermore When Cormorants fly crying to the shore."

TALKING BIRDS, ETC.

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:--

Zozozozozozozozozozozozo zirrhading Hezezezezezezezezezezezezezezeze cowar ho dze hoi Higaigaigaigaigaigaigaigaigaigai, guaiagai coricor dzio dzio pi.[13]

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:--

The peculiar form of the tail-feathers in some foreign species nearly allied to our Snipe encouraged the notion that the tail conduced to the production of the sound. M. Meves found the tail-feathers of our common Snipe, in the first feather especially, very peculiarly constructed; the shaft uncommonly stiff and sabre-shaped; the rays of the web strongly bound together and very long, the longest reaching nearly three-fourths of the whole length of the web, these rays lying along or spanning from end to end of the curve of the shaft, _like the strings of a musical instrument_. If you blow from the outer side upon the broad web, it comes into vibration, and a sound is heard, which, though fainter, resembles very closely the well-known _neighing_.

But to convince yourself fully that it is the first feather which produces the peculiar sound, it is only necessary carefully to pluck out such an one, to fasten its shaft with fine thread to a piece of steel wire a tenth of an inch in diameter, and a foot long, and then to fix this at the end of a four-foot stick. If now you draw the feather, with this outer side forward, sharply through the air, at the same time making some short movements or shakings of the arm, so as to represent the shivering motion of the wings during flight, you produce the neighing sound with the most astonishing exactness.

If you wish to hear the humming of both feathers at once, as must be the case from the flying bird, this also can be managed by a simple contrivance. Take a small stick, and fasten at the side of the smaller end a piece of burnt steel wire in the form of a fork; bind to each point a side tail-feather; bend the wire so that the feathers receive the same direction which they do in the spreading of the tail as the bird sinks itself in flight; and then, with this apparatus, draw the feathers through the air as before. Such a sound, but in another tone, is produced when we experiment with the tail-feathers of other kinds of Snipe.

Since in both sexes these feathers have the same form, it is clear that both can produce the same humming noise; but as the feathers of the hen are generally less than those of the cock-bird, the noise made by them is not so deep as in the other case.

Besides the significance which these tail-feathers have as a kind of musical instrument, their form may give a weighty character in the determination of a species standing very near one another, which have been looked upon as varieties.

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."