Part 11

In its mode of nidification, the Wryneck resembles the Woodpeckers, selecting a hole in a tree wherein to deposit its eggs, which are six or seven in number, pure white, and laid with little or no attempt at a nest upon chips of decayed wood at the bottom of the hole. In about three weeks the young are hatched, and both parents take their turn at feeding them, bringing ants and their eggs in mouthfuls, woodlice, small spiders, and other insects. The ants, which are gathered up wholesale by means of the long glutinous tongue, which the bird darts amongst them with great rapidity, are stored up in the mouth until the return to the nest, when they are ejected in ball-like masses into the open gapes of the clamorous young. The latter quickly assume their feathers, and by the month of August are ready to leave the country with their parents _en route_ for Africa, Asia Minor, and India, where they pass the cold months of the year. But according to the observations of Lindermayer, Dr. Kruper, and others, many spend the winter in Greece amongst the olive groves, and Lord Lilford has seen it in Epirus in March and December (“Ibis,” 1860, p. 235).

In Tangiers, Tripoli, Algeria, Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia, it is by no means uncommon. It occurs also in Arabia, and according to Dr. Jerdon (“Birds of India,” vol. i. p. 303) is found throughout India, except, perhaps, on the Malabar Coast, where he never saw it, or heard of a specimen being procured. He adds, “It is chiefly, perhaps, a cold-weather visitant in the south of India; but it is found to remain all the year further north.”

I have already touched upon the question whether any of our summer migrants breed in their winter quarters, as well as in their summer haunts (see p. 41), and it may be well to note here the above remark of Dr. Jerdon, as well as the observation of Captain Loche, that the Wryneck breeds in the forests of Algeria. It of course remains to be shown whether the individuals which rear their young south of the Mediterranean, ever migrate into Europe; for it is possible that Algeria may be the northern-most limit in summer of those birds which have passed the winter many degrees further south than have the migrants from Europe.

THE HOOPOE. (_Upupa epops._)

Amongst the large number of migratory birds which resort to the British Islands in spring for the purpose of nidification, are a few which come to us accidentally, as it were, or as stragglers from the main body of immigrants which, crossing the Mediterranean from Africa, becomes dispersed over the greater part of Europe. The Hoopoe is one of these. Not a summer elapses without the appearance, and, I regret to say, the destruction, of several of these beautiful birds being chronicled in some one or other of the many periodicals devoted to Natural History. If the thoughtless persons, whose first impulse on seeing an uncommon bird, is to procure a gun and shoot it, would only take as much pains to afford it protection for a time, observe its habits, describe its mode of nesting and manner of feeding its young, they would do a much greater service to ornithology by recording the result of their observations, than by publishing the details of a wanton destruction.

That the Hoopoe will breed in this country, if unmolested, is evidenced by the recorded instances in which it has done so where sufficient protection has been afforded it during the nesting season. Montagu states, in his “Ornithological Dictionary,” that a pair of Hoopoes began a nest in Hampshire, and Dr. Latham has described a young Hoopoe which was brought to him in the month of June. A pair frequented Gilbert White’s garden at Selborne; and another pair nested for several years in the grounds of Pennsylvania Castle, Portland.[106] Mr. Jesse states[107] that some years ago a pair of Hoopoes built their nest and hatched their young in a tree close to the house at Park End, near Chichester; and according to the observations of Mr. Turner, of Sherborne, Dorsetshire, the nest has been taken, on three or four occasions, by the schoolboys from pollard willows on the banks of the river Lenthay. The birds were known to the boys as “Hoops.”

In the same county, on the authority of the Rev. O. P. Cambridge, a pair of Hoopoes are reported to have bred at Warmwell. The Rev. A. C. Smith, of Calne, Wilts, says that a nest, containing young birds, was taken many years ago in his neighbourhood; and another nest, according to Mr. A. E. Knox, was found at Southwick, near Shoreham. Canon Tristram states that the Hoopoe has bred at least on one occasion, in Northamptonshire.

Mr. Howard Saunders informs me that many years ago a pair of Hoopoes took possession of a hole in a yew tree in the shrubbery of a garden at Leatherhead, and reared their young in safety. He afterwards saw both old and young birds strutting about on the lawn. I have seldom met with this bird in England, and then only on the coast in September, when the beauty of its plumage had become faded, and the feathers ragged, and it was about to emigrate southwards for the winter. But on the continent, and more particularly in France, I have had many opportunities of observing it, and noting its actions and habits. In its movements on the ground it struck me as resembling the Rook more than any other bird I could think of at the time; the same stately tread and gentle nodding of the head, every now and then stopping to pick up something. It does not carry the crest erect, but inclining backwards, and is less sprightly in its movements generally than I had previously supposed. On the wing it at first sight reminds one of a Jay, the principal colours being the same, viz., black, white, and pale cinnamon brown; but the distribution of colour is different, and the flight is not so rapid, and more undulating. The wings are large for the size of the bird, and the first-quill feather being much shorter than the second, the wing has a rounded appearance which makes the flight seem heavier.

It is a shy bird, taking wing on the least alarm, except when surprised by a hawk or other large bird, when, according to the observations of the German naturalists, Naumann and Bechstein, it resorts to a very singular expedient to protect itself. It squats upon the ground, spreads out its tail and wings to their fullest extent, bringing the primaries round so as almost to meet in front, and throws back its head and bill, which it holds up perpendicularly.[108] So long as danger threatens, it remains in this odd position, probably to deceive the enemy; for when thus spread out, at a little distance it looks more like an old parti-coloured rag than a living bird.

The Hoopoe lives a good deal on the ground where it finds its chief food, which consists of beetles of various kinds, and their larvæ, caterpillars, and ants. It is especially partial to dung-beetles, and may often be seen in search of them upon the roads, where it is also fond of dusting after the manner of a Skylark. But besides picking up a great deal of food from the surface, it also probes beneath the soil where the nature of the ground admits of this, and secures many a worm and lurking grub by means of its long and slender pointed bill. It swallows a beetle or other small morsel just as the Hornbills in the Zoological Society’s Gardens swallow the grapes which are thrown to them, that is to say, it seizes it first between the tips of the mandibles, then throwing the head back suddenly, and opening the bill at the same instant, the food is jerked into the gullet with great precision, and disappears. When it seizes a worm, however, the process is somewhat different. It bruises it by beating it against the ground, pinches it all over between the mandibles, and finally swallows it lengthwise with sundry jerks of the head.

In other respects, as well as in the mode of taking their food, the Hoopoes resemble the Hornbills. They build in holes of trees as the latter are known to do, and the hens sit upon the eggs without interruption until they are hatched, the males, as in the case of the Hornbills, bringing food and feeding them from the outside of the hole. The eggs, which are generally five or six in number, are elongated, nearly oval, and of a greenish grey colour. The young when first hatched are naked, but soon get covered with small blue quills from which the feathers sprout. They are unable to stand upright until nearly fledged, but crouch forward and utter a hissing noise. Their crests are soon developed, but their bills do not acquire their full length until the following year.

Lord Lilford states that although the Hoopoe as a rule prefers a hole in an old ash or willow tree for nesting in, he has seen a nest on the ground under a large stone, others in holes on the sunny side of mud or brick walls, one in a fissure of limestone rock, and another in a small cavern.

Dr. Carl Bolle has observed that in the Canaries, where trees are scarce, the Hoopoe breeds in holes of the stone walls and clefts of the rocks.

During his residence in China, where this bird is common, Mr. Swinhoe was surprised to find that it often breeds in the holes of exposed Chinese coffins, whence the natives have a great aversion to them, branding them as “Coffin-birds;” and the Russian naturalist Pallas once found a nest of the Hoopoe, containing seven young ones nearly ready to fly, in the decomposed abdominal cavity of a dead body!

The note of the Hoopoe is very remarkable, and not to be mistaken for that of any other bird with which I am acquainted. It sounds like the syllables “hoop-hoop,” “hoop-hoop,” frequently repeated, and in the quality of its tone approximates to the call of the Cuckoo, but the second note is a repetition of the first instead of being, as in the case of the Cuckoo, a third below it. Old authors affirmed that this peculiar sound was produced by the bird distending its cheeks with air, and tapping its bill upon the ground, thereby causing the notes to escape as it were spasmodically. This curious statement has received some confirmation from the observations of Mr. Swinhoe.[109] He says: “To produce these notes, the bird draws the air into its trachea, which puffs out on either side of the neck, and the end of the bill is tapped perpendicularly against a stone or the trunk of a tree, when the breath being forced down the tubular bill produces the correct sound.” He adds, however, that he has observed a Hoopoe perched upon a hanging rope, and uttering its well-known cry without any tapping of the bill.

I cannot help thinking that a bird observed in the act of calling _whilst picking up food_, as many species do, has given rise to the notion that the sound is _produced_ by tapping, whereas in truth it precedes and follows the movement. The only motion that I could ever detect in a Hoopoe whilst calling was a nodding of the head, and a depression of the crest-feathers.

From the accounts which have been handed down to us by old authors, and the numerous specimens which may be seen preserved in old collections, it would appear that the Hoopoe was formerly much more plentiful in England than it is at the present day. The decrease in its numbers probably arises from two causes, viz., the clearance of forest land, entailing the destruction of many old trees which were once attractive as nesting places,[110] and the increased use of fire-arms which unfortunately results in the destruction of many of these beautiful birds, at a time when they are just about to pair and commence nidification.

The period of its migration into Europe in the spring sets in early in April. The late Commander Sperling, when stationed with his vessel in the Mediterranean, frequently met with Hoopoes at sea during their passage. In the English Channel on the 15th April, 1854, a Hoopoe after flying two or three times round a steamer entered one of the windows of the saloon and was taken, apparently exhausted with fatigue. Another, on the 21st April, alighted on a mackerel-boat between the Eddystone Lighthouse and Plymouth Breakwater, in an exhausted state, and allowed itself to be taken.

The average date of arrival in England may be said to be the third week in April, when the species is more frequently met with in the eastern and south-eastern counties, although it wanders inland to a considerable distance. It is regarded by Mr. R. Gray[111] as a straggler to Scotland; and Mr. Thompson remarks[112] that in Ireland it has appeared occasionally in all quarters of the island.

As autumn approaches, these birds, or such of them as have contrived to escape destruction, begin to move southwards for the winter, and passing gradually down to the Mediterranean, are observed for some days about the groves and olive gardens near the sea before they finally cross over. In this way they return to their winter haunts about the end of August or beginning of September. Throughout Southern and South-eastern Europe, as well as in Siberia and North-eastern Africa, the Hoopoe breeds commonly; but in the northern and western parts of the last-named continent it is chiefly a winter visitant. The Siberian birds, probably, and not the European ones, migrate to India and China for the cold season, and some remain to breed in both these countries. Those which have passed the summer in Europe, as already shown, spend their winter in Africa.

Occasionally a Hoopoe has been observed in winter in the British Islands, but so rarely as to make the occurrence a matter of note. An instance or two of this kind in Norfolk has been noticed by Hunt in his “British Birds” (vol. ii. p. 147); and Mr. R. Gray, in his “Birds of the West of Scotland,” p. 198, refers to two which were killed near Glasgow, in different years, so late as the month of October.

The late Sir William Jardine informed me that two were shot in Dumfriesshire in the winter of 1870-71.

The most perfect specimen of the Hoopoe I have ever seen is one in my collection, which was shot at the Dell, a piece of water near Whetstone, Middlesex, on the 25th April, 1852. It has no less than twenty-two crest feathers the longest two inches in length, arranged in two parallel rows, with the upper surfaces outwards, and of a pale cinnamon colour broadly tipped with black. The other portions of the plumage are equally perfect and bright in colour.

THE GOLDEN ORIOLE. (_Oriolus galbula._)

Like the Hoopoe, the Golden Oriole makes its annual visit to the European continent from the countries south of the Mediterranean, in the month of April, and returns in September. In the interval it may be found not uncommonly in the wooded parts of Central and Southern Europe; but it is rare in the north, being seldom seen in Sweden, and unknown in Norway.

In England, where it may be regarded as an irregular summer migrant, it unfortunately meets with little or no protection, for its bright colours at once attract attention, and many get shot before they have been a week on our shores. The male bird is bright yellow, with black wings and a black and yellow tail. The female is dull green, with pitch-brown wings, the upper tail coverts greenish yellow, and the under parts greyish white, longitudinally streaked with brown on the shafts of the feathers; the flanks yellow, and streaked in the same way.

My impressions on meeting with Golden Orioles for the first time in France, now many years ago, will not be easily forgotten. I wanted to see them alive, hear their notes, shoot two or three to examine them closely, and ascertain the nature of their food; and accordingly I accepted the invitation of a friend and took up my quarters at an old country house, about halfway between Paris and Orleans. On looking over my note-book for that particular year, I find the following entry, relating to the Golden Oriole:—

“Long before six in the morning I was awakened by a perfect chorus of birds—Blackcap, Nightingale, Thrush, Wood Pigeon, Chaffinch, Starling, and Magpie were all recognized; but what pleased me above all, was a beautiful mellow whistle, which I took to be that of the Golden Oriole, and in less than an hour afterwards I found that I was right in my surmise, for on walking through the woods which flank one side of the house, I had the pleasure of seeing for the first time alive several of these beautiful birds. They were very shy, and kept to the tops of the oak trees; but by proceeding cautiously I managed to get near enough to see and hear them well. Their note is really splendid, so mellow, loud, and clear—something of the Blackbird’s tone about it, but yet very different; while in their mode of flight and perching they remind one of a Thrush. After a long search, I at length found a nest, placed at the extremity of a thin bough, and at the top of an oak tree, about sixty feet up. There were no branches for more than thirty feet, and it would have been almost impossible to reach it without assistance. I therefore marked the spot, and determined to get a long ladder a little later and try and take it. The keeper informed me that it was early yet for Orioles’ eggs, and so I left the nest for the last day of my stay here. In the afternoon I went with the keeper to the Parc de Marolles. We could hear the Orioles, or _Loriots_, as the French call them from their notes, singing loudly in the recesses of the woods; but the foliage was so thick, and they kept so much to the tops of the trees, that it was almost impossible to catch sight of them. Their greenish-yellow feathers, too, harmonized so well with the leaves, that it rendered them still more difficult to see.

“Following the direction of the notes, I continued to make my way through the underwood as noiselessly as possible, peering through the branches, and striving in vain to catch sight of a bird. For a long time the sound seemed to be as far away as ever, or, as I advanced it receded. The sun was broiling hot, and the exertion of forcing my way through the underwood, and straining my neck forward in my endeavours to get a sight of the bird, put me in a profuse perspiration. The result of about three hours’ work was, that I finally succeeded in getting three shots at long intervals, and secured a pair of Orioles, a young male and an old female. Subsequently, however, I got others. I found the stomachs of these birds crammed with caterpillars of various species, and can well understand the good they do in young plantations, by ridding the trees of these pests.

“The colours of the soft parts in these birds, as noted by me at the time, were as follows:—Iris, reddish hazel; bill, brownish flesh colour; legs and toes, pale lead colour.

“On June 3rd, after breakfast, I went to the wood near the house to take a Golden Oriole’s nest, and a difficult matter it was. The nest was placed in a slender fork at the extremity of a thin bough of an oak tree, and almost at the top.

“The oaks here are not, as in England, sturdy and short, with wide-spreading heads, but tall and slender, running up for a great height without any branches, and very tiring to climb. I was obliged to saw off the branch before I could look into the nest, and after a great deal of trouble, when I at length got it down safely, I found, to my disappointment, that it contained three young birds instead of eggs. Could I have ascertained this without cutting off the branch, I should certainly have left them where they were; as it was, there was no help for it but to take them. They were apparently about three days old, and almost naked, the skin of an orange or yellowish flesh-colour very sparsely flecked with yellow down. I fed them on maggots, and covered them with cotton wool to keep them warm, and in this way I kept them alive until I reached Paris, where they died, and were entrusted to a skilful taxidermist for preservation.”

Although the discovery of a Golden Oriole’s nest in England is not unprecedented, it is of sufficiently rare occurrence to attract the attention of naturalists, more especially when the finder (as in the case to which I am about to allude) has the humanity and good sense to permit the young to be reared, instead of shooting the parent birds the moment they are discovered, and thus effectually putting a stop to all attempts at nidification.

It is a pleasure to be able to record the fact, that during the summer of 1874, a pair of Golden Orioles took up their quarters in Dumpton Park, Isle of Thanet, where—the proprietor, Mr. Bankes Tomlin, having given strict injunctions that they should not be disturbed—they built a nest, and successfully reared their young, ultimately leading them away in safety.

They must have commenced building somewhat later than usual, for it was not until the 6th of July that I first heard of the nest, and the young were then just hatched. Mr. Bankes Tomlin having kindly invited me to come and see it, I lost no time in availing myself of his invitation, and a few days later, namely, on July 12th, I found myself at Dumpton Park, standing under the very tree in which the nest was placed. The reader may smile at the idea of journeying from London to Ramsgate merely to look at a nest; but if he be an ornithologist, he will know that Golden Orioles’ nests are not to be seen in this country every day, and that when found they are worth “making a note of.” Often as I had seen the bird and its nest on the Continent, it had never been my good fortune until then to meet with it in England. Indeed, the instances in which nests of the Oriole have been found here and recorded are so few that they may be easily enumerated. According to the concise account given by Professor Newton in his new edition of “Yarrell’s British Birds,” one was discovered in June, 1836, in an ash plantation near Ord, from which the young were taken; but, though every care was shown them, they did not long survive their captivity. “Mr. J. B. Ellman says (‘Zoologist,’ p. 2496) that at the end of May, 1849, a nest was, with the owners, obtained near Elmstone. It was suspended from the extremity of the top branch of an oak, was composed entirely of wool bound together with dried grass, and contained three eggs. Mr. Hulke, in 1851, also recorded (“Zoologist,’ p. 3034) a third, of which he was told that it was found about ten years previously in Word Wood, near Sandwich, by a countryman, who took the young, and gave them to his ferrets; and Mr. More, on the authority of Mr. Charles Gordon, mentions one at Elmstead, adding that the bird appeared again in the same locality in 1861. Mr. Howard Saunders and Lord Lilford informed the editor that in the summer of 1871 they each observed, in Surrey and Northamptonshire respectively, a bird of this species, which probably had a nest. Messrs. Sheppard and Whitear speak of a nest said to have been found in a garden near Ormsby, in Norfolk; but the eggs formerly in Mr. Scales’s collection, which it has been thought were taken in that county, were really brought from Holland, and the editor is not aware of any collector who can boast the possession of eggs of this species laid in Britain.”