Part 25

"This bird is always extremely timid, when its own interest or safety is solely concerned; but no sooner does its hungry brood clamour for supply, than it loses all its wary character, and becomes a bold and impudent thief. At this period it will visit our gardens, which it rarely approaches at other times, plunder them of every raspberry, cherry, or bean, that it can obtain, and will not cease from rapine as long as any of the brood or the crop remains. We see all the nestlings approach, and, settling near some meditated scene of plunder, quietly await a summons to commence. A parent bird from some tree, surveys the ground, then descends upon the cherry, or into the rows, immediately announces a discovery, by a low but particular call, and all the family flock into the banquet, which having finished by repeated visits, the old birds return to the woods, with all their chattering children, and become the same wild, cautious creatures they were before."

The Blue Jay.

Wilson gives the following description of the Blue Jay: "This elegant bird, peculiar to North America, is distinguished as a kind of beau among the feathered tenants of the woods, by the brilliancy of his dress; and like most other coxcombs, makes himself still more conspicuous by his loquacity, and the oddness of his tones and gestures. Of all birds he is the most bitter enemy to the owl. No sooner has he discovered the retreat of one of these, than he calls the whole feathered fraternity to his assistance, who surround the glimmering recluse, and attack him from all sides, raising such a shout as may be heard on a still day more than half a mile off. The owl at length, forced to betake himself to flight, is followed by his whole train of persecutors, until driven beyond the boundaries of their jurisdiction. But the blue jay himself is not guiltless of similar depredations as the owl and becomes in his turn the very tyrant he detested, and he is sometimes attacked with such spirit as to be under the necessity of making a speedy retreat. The blue jay is not only bold and vociferous, but possesses a considerable talent for mimicry, and seems to enjoy great satisfaction in mocking and teasing other birds, particularly the little hawk, imitating his cry whenever he sees him, and squeaking out as if caught; this soon brings a number of his own tribe around him, who all join in the frolic, darting about the hawk, and feigning the cries of a bird sorely wounded, and already in the clutches of its devourer; while others lie concealed in bushes, ready to second their associates in the attack. But this ludicrous farce often terminates tragically. The hawk, singling out one of the most insolent and provoking, swoops upon him in an unguarded moment, and offers him up a sacrifice to his hunger and resentment. In an instant the tune is changed, all their buffoonery vanishes, and loud and incessant screams proclaim their disaster. Whenever the jay has had the advantage of education from man, he has not only shown himself an apt scholar, but his suavity of manners seems equalled only by his art and contrivances, though it must be confessed that his itch for thieving keeps pace with all his other acquirements."

The Magpie.

The Magpie is an ancient bird and is mentioned by Plutarch and other early writers. It is indigenous in England and shows great industry and ingenuity in the construction of its nest, which it lines with mud plaster and covers with thorns, building upon high trees and in secluded spots. It feeds upon both animal and vegetable food, attacking birds, young ducks and chickens, as well as mice and even rats, and regaling itself on both fruit and grain. It attains to a length of about eighteen inches and is a handsome bird, though captivity does not improve its appearance.

The Magpie's Mischief.

The mischievous habits of the magpie have won for it the name of "the Monkey of the Birds," the Raven as Mr. Wood puts it being "the ornithological baboon." Its mischief is displayed in many ways; in the wanton destruction of articles and in their crafty secretion, as well as in the thievish appropriation of edible dainties. Mr. Wood tells of a Wiltshire magpie which "found a malicious enjoyment in pecking the unprotected ankles of little boys not yet arrived at manly habiliments, and was such a terror to the female servants that they were forced to pass his lurking-place armed with a broom. One of the servants having neglected this precaution, was actually found sitting down on the stones to protect her ankles, the magpie triumphantly pacing round her, until aid was brought, and the bird driven away." Mrs. Bowdich quotes the following from Mr. Ranson: "A magpie, kept by a branch of our family, was noted for his powers of imitation. He could whistle tunes, imitate hens and ducks, and speak very plainly. Seated upon a toll-bar gate, he would shout 'Gate, ahoy!' so distinctly, as to draw out the keeper, who was generally saluted by a loud laugh when he answered the call. When the keeper's wife was making pastry, he would practise the same man[oe]uvre, and if the trick were not detected, and the woman rushed out to open the gate, the magpie darted into the house, and speedily made his exit with his bill full of paste; and he, in great glee, would chatter about it for some time afterwards. He would perch upon the backs of chairs, say he was hungry, or inform the juniors of the family it was time to go to school. He was allowed to run about, but was never out of mischief, and had a constant propensity to pilfer and hide small articles." Of the serious consequences sometimes attending this habit of secreting things, the following story from Lady Morgan's "Italy" is a painful illustration.--"A noble lady of Florence, resided in a house which stands still opposite the lofty Doric column which was raised to commemorate the defeat of Pietro Strozzi, and the taking of Sienna, by the tyrannic conqueror of both. Cosmo, the First, lost a valuable pearl necklace, and one of her waiting-women, (a very young girl) was accused of the theft. Having solemnly denied the fact, she was put to the torture, which was then _a plaisir_ at Florence. Unable to support its terrible infliction, she acknowledged that 'she was guilty,' and, without further trial, was hung. Shortly after, Florence was visited by a tremendous storm; a thunder-bolt fell on the figure of Justice, and split the scales, one of which fell to the earth, and with it fell the ruins of a magpie's nest, containing the pearl necklace. Those scales are still the haunts of birds, and I never saw them hovering round them, without thinking of those 'good old times,' when innocent women could be first tortured, and then hung on suspicion."

The Raven.

The Raven is a large bird, indeed the largest of the British crows, attaining to a length of two feet two inches, and having a stretch of wing of four feet eight inches, in width. It is an historic bird, being mentioned by Pliny who records that a tame one kept in the Temple of Castor, was taught by a tailor whom it used to visit, to pronounce the name of the Emperor Tiberius and of the other members of the Royal family. The fame of the bird brought the tailor riches, but excited the jealousy of his neighbours, one of whom killed the bird. The record states that the offender was punished and the bird accorded a magnificent funeral. The Raven builds its nest in high trees and among inaccessible and precipitous rocks, especially in the Hebrides, and lives on carrion, not disdaining fruit and grain. Like many other birds who afterwards show little concern for their young the Raven is assiduous in its attentions during the period of incubation. The following is from White's "Natural History of Selborne":

"In the centre of a grove near Selborne, there stood an oak, which though shapely and tall on the whole, bulged out into a large excrescence near the middle of the stem. On the tree a pair of ravens had fixed their residence for such a series of years, that the oak was distinguished by the name of the 'raven tree,' Many were the attempts of the neighbouring youths to get at this eyrie; the difficulty whetted their inclinations, and each was ambitious of surmounting the arduous task; but, when they arrived at the swelling, it jutted out so much in their way, and was so far beyond their grasp, that the boldest lads were deterred, and acknowledged the undertaking to be too hazardous. Thus the ravens continued to build nest after nest, in perfect security, till the fatal day arrived on which the wood was to be levelled. This was in the month of February, when these birds usually sit. The saw was applied to the trunk, the wedges were inserted in the opening, the woods echoed to the heavy blows of the beetle or mallet, the tree nodded to its fall; but the dam persisted to sit. At last, when it gave way, the bird was flung from her nest; and though her maternal affection deserved a better fate, was whipped down by the twigs, which brought her dead to the ground." Ravens are said to pair for life and to live for a hundred years.

Unnatural Parents.

Though models of conjugal fidelity, Ravens are said to be very unnatural parents, often showing not only indifference but cruelty to their young. Mr. Morris in his "Anecdotes of Natural History" tells an interesting story of a family of ravens whose mother came to an untimely death. "For a time the surviving parent hovered about the nest, uttering loud and menacing croakings whenever anybody approached. At length, however, he disappeared, and absented himself for two or three days, and then returned with another mate, when a strange scene occurred. The poor half-starved nestlings were attacked without mercy by the step-mother, who, after severely wounding, precipitated them from the nest; two, however, were found at the foot of the tree with signs of life, and with great care and attention reared at the rectory, about half a mile distant, and after being slightly pinioned, were allowed their liberty; but they seldom quitted the lawn or offices, roosting in a tree in the shrubbery. Here, however, they were soon discovered by their unnatural parents, who for a long time used to come at early dawn and pounce upon them with fierce cries." In this case it was the step-mother and not the mother that treated the young ravens so unkindly, and the father may be charitably credited with acting under the influence of his second wife. That the Raven drives its young out of its nest as soon as they are able to provide for themselves is true, but why they should pursue them after they have become independent is not clear. This habit of the ravens, as Mr. Morris points out, may be referred to in the following quotations: "He giveth to the beast his food, and to the young ravens which cry" (Psalm CXLVII. 9). "Who provideth for the raven his food? when his young ones cry unto God, they wander for lack of meat" (Job XXXVIII. 41).

The Tame Raven.

The Raven may be easily tamed, and in private life is always an amusement, if sometimes an annoyance. Like all birds which are capable of imitating sounds and which learn words and phrases it will often "speak its lines," with startling appropriateness as to time and place. Captain Brown tells a good story of a Raven which belonged to a gentleman who resided on the borders of the New Forest in Hampshire. On one occasion a traveller who was passing through the forest was startled by the frequent repetition of the words: "Fair play, gentlemen! fair play! for God's sake, gentlemen, fair play!" and upon tracing the source of the sound discovered the tame raven defending himself from the attacks of two of his own species. It is needless to say that the traveller rescued the "gentleman" from the two "ruffians" who molested him. Captain Brown also tells of a tame raven who was an expert rat-catcher and whose method was to place a meat bone in front of a rat hole and to stand on a ledge above the hole, pouncing on the rat as soon as he emerged from his retreat. In this way he captured as many as six in a fore-noon.

The Raven and the Dog.

Dr. Stanley tells the following story of a Raven and a Dog: "A strong attachment was once formed between a raven and a large otter-dog. The raven had been taken when young, and reared in a stable-yard, where the dog was kept chained up. A friendship soon commenced, which, increasing from little to more, in time ripened into a most extraordinary degree of intimacy. At first the bird was satisfied with hopping about in the vicinity of the kennel, and occasionally pecking a hasty morsel from the dog's feeding-pan when the latter had finished his meal. Finding, however, no interruption on the part of his friend, the raven soon became a constant attendant at meal times, and, taking up his position on the edge of the dish, acted the part of a regular guest and partaker of the dog's dinner, which consisted usually of meal and milk, with occasional scraps of offal meat, a piece of which the bird would often snatch up, almost from the very mouth of the dog, and hasten beyond the reach of his chain, as if to tantalise his four-footed friend; and then hopping towards him, would play about, and hang it close to his nose; and then as speedily, at the moment the dog was preparing to snap it up, would dart off beyond the reach of the chain. At other times he would hide the piece of meat under a stone, and then coming back, with a cunning look, would perch upon the dog's head. It was observed, however, that he always ended his pranks by either sharing or giving up the whole piece to his friend the dog. By some accident the raven had fallen into a tub of water, and, either weakened by struggling, or unable to get out owing to its feathers being soaked with water, it was nearly drowned. The dog (whether the same dog or another does not appear), chained at a short distance, saw the poor bird's danger, and dragging his heavy kennel towards it, reached his head over the side of the tub, and taking the drowning raven up in his mouth, laid him gently on the ground, when he soon recovered."

The Rook.

The Rook which is often confused with the Carrion Crow is found in many parts of Europe and is abundant in England, where it is common to see groups of trees near gentlemen's houses given up to their occupancy. Here they build their nests, rear their young, keep up an incessant cawing, quarrel and make peace as do all other large communities. If a new-comer appears among them, he is generally received in a very rough manner. At Newcastle, a pair of rooks attempted to introduce themselves into a rookery, but were so rudely treated, that, in high dudgeon, they ascended to the steeple of one of the public buildings, and built their nest on the vane. Here they lived for several successive seasons, turning about with every change of wind, and regardless of the busy scene in the town beneath. The rook is gregarious, in which particular it differs from the Carrion Crow which lives in pairs. Further differences are found in the feathering of the head and neck of these birds, that of the crow being much more completely covered than that of the rook. The croak of the crow is, moreover, much harsher than the caw of the rook. Like most, if not all other birds and animals, the rook serves a useful purpose in nature, in checking the multiplication of the worms and insects which prey upon the crops; and doubtless were he able to argue the question he would contend that helping the farmer to produce his harvest he has a right to a share in it. It is only when the rook in his turn gets too numerous that he needs a similar check.

The Carrion Crow.

The Carrion Crow resembles the raven in appearance, but is about one third smaller in size. It lives in pairs and is said to be a model of conjugal fidelity and parental care. Omnivorous in habit it appropriates all kinds of food: insects, grain, eggs, fruit, nuts, mice, ducklings and chickens, as well as such dead meat as may offer opportunitty. Captain Brown quoting from a Scotch newspaper tells of a crow which made an attempt to carry off one of a brood of fourteen chickens, but which on being disturbed, dropped its prey and made its escape, returning some time after with thirteen other crows and carrying off the whole brood.

The Jackdaw.

The Jackdaw, measures about fourteen inches, and is thus the smallest of the birds of its kind. It builds in old ruins, church towers, and rocky eminences, in which particular it differs from the rooks and the crows, who select the topmost branches of trees for this purpose. Like its near relatives with whom we have been dealing, it is thievish and secretive in its habits, showing a preference, in its appropriations, for bright objects such as silver spoons and gold rings. These habits and their terrible consequences have been immortalized by the history and fate of the "Jackdaw of Rheims."

The Chough.

The Chough frequents the western sea coasts of England, the north, south, and west of Ireland and the Isle of Man, and the borders of the snow line or Alpine ranges on the continent of Europe. It nests in the cavities of high cliffs and attains a length of seventeen inches; its beak and legs are of a brilliant red. When tamed it shows the same qualities of curiosity and secretiveness which characterise the other birds of its kind.

The Bird of Paradise.

The Bird of Paradise is one of the most beautiful of living birds. Mr. Wallace thus describes the _Paradisea apoda_ which is the largest species known: "The body, wings, and tail are of a rich coffee brown, which deepens on the breast to a blackish-violet or purple brown. The whole top of the head and neck is of an exceedingly delicate straw-yellow, the feathers being short and close set, so as to resemble plush or velvet; the lower part of the throat up to the eye is clothed with scaly feathers of an emerald green colour, and with a rich metallic gloss, and velvety plumes of a still deeper green, extend in a band across the forehead and chin as far as the eye, which is bright yellow. The beak is pale lead blue, and the feet which are rather large and very strong and well formed, are a pale ashy pink. The two middle feathers of the tail have no webs, except a very small one at the base and at the extreme tip, forming wire-like cirri, which spread out in an elegant double curve, and vary from twenty-four to thirty-four inches long. From each side of the body beneath the wings, springs a dense tuft of long and delicate plumes, sometimes two feet in length, of the most intense golden orange colour, and very glossy, but changing towards the tips into a pale brown. This tuft of plumage can be elevated and spread out at pleasure so as almost to conceal the body of the bird. These splendid ornaments are entirely confined to the male sex; the female is a very plain and ordinary looking bird. The male is generally seventeen or eighteen inches from the beak to the tip of the tail."

Hunting the Bird of Paradise.

In catching the Bird of Paradise, the natives take advantage of the apparent vanity of their victims. "In May when they are in full plumage," says Mr. Wallace, "the males assemble early in the morning to exhibit themselves in a most singular manner. This habit enables the natives to obtain specimens with comparative ease. As soon as they find that the birds have fixed upon a tree upon which to assemble, they build a little shelter of palm leaves in a convenient place among the branches, and the hunter ensconces himself in it before daylight, armed with his bow and a number of arrows terminating in a round nob. A boy waits at the foot of the tree, and when the birds come at sunrise, and a sufficient number have assembled, and have begun to dance, the hunter shoots with his blunt arrow so strongly as to stun the bird, which drops down, and is secured and killed by the boy, without its plumage being injured by a drop of blood. The rest take no notice, and fall one after another till some of them take the alarm." The Bird of Paradise is found in New Guinea and the Papuan Islands.

The Tanagers.

Following Mr. Wallace's order we come now to the second class of the perching birds, the Tanagroid perchers, with the more important species of which we will now proceed to deal.

The Tanager.

Tanagers are found in America and the West Indian Islands. Wilson, the American ornithologist, describing the scarlet Tanager, says: "Among all other birds that inhabit our woods, there is none that strikes the eye of the stranger or even a native with so much brilliancy as this. Seen among the green leaves, with the light falling strongly on his plumage, he really appears beautiful. If he has little melody in his notes to charm us, he has nothing in them to disgust. His manners are modest, easy and inoffensive; he commits no depredations on the property of the husbandman, but rather benefits him by the daily destruction in spring of many noxious insects; and when winter approaches he is no plundering dependant, but seeks in a distant country for that sustenance which the severity of the season denies to his industry in this. He is a striking ornament to our rural scenery and none of the meanest of our rural songsters." Its body is scarlet and its wings and tail are black. One species of the Tanager is known as the Organist Tanager from the richness of its tones.

The Swallow.

Though only a summer friend the swallow is among the most popular of birds in England. It arrives in April and is always sure of a hearty welcome, and when it leaves in September for its long journey across the sea no one would withhold from it a "God speed". The swallow builds under the eaves of houses, always selecting dry and sheltered spots. Its flight is very rapid, and is a pretty sight to watch as it skims over the surface of the water, sometimes striking it with its wings as it darts hither and thither, snapping at the flies and insects which come within its reach. The marvellous flights of these birds when they migrate are among the many wonderful things of nature. Humboldt states that he saw a swallow alight on the rigging of his vessel when it was one hundred and twenty miles from land. How such tiny creatures can sustain such extended flights it is difficult to understand.

Swallows in Council.

Swallows seem to understand the principle of co-operation and what the family is unable to do for itself the community seems always ready to undertake for it. Captain Brown tells of a pair of swallows who returning to their last year's nest found it occupied by a robust English sparrow. The sparrow declined to give up the nest and the swallows were not strong enough to eject it, whereupon a council was called, as a result of which a large army of swallows proceeded to close up the entrance to the nest with clay, "leaving the sparrow to perish in the garrison it had so gallantly defended." This happened at Strathendry, Bleachfield, in Fifeshire, on the banks of the Leven, and was witnessed by Mr. Gavan Inglis. But not only do the swallows co-operate for the purposes of war; Mr. Inglis was a witness of another effort of combination. It happened that a pair of swallows had built a nest in the corner of one of his windows, in which they had hatched five offspring. The parent birds fell victims to a sportsman's gun and Mr. Inglis contemplated an attempt to rear the family himself. This, however, proved unnecessary. In a very short time a number of swallows came and inspected the bereaved dwelling, apparently noting the condition of the house as well as the brood. A supply of food was immediately brought, and the next morning the kindly offices were renewed and thenceforward continued until the young were able to provide for themselves. Remarkable as these incidents are they are not singular, for both have been known to occur more than once.

The House Martin.