Part 29

A subject of great curiosity, and pleasing admiration, is, THE CARRIER, or, COURIER PIGEON.--These birds, though carried, hoodwinked, twenty, thirty, or even a hundred miles, will find their way in a very little time to the place where they were bred. They are trained to this service in Turkey and Persia; and are carried first, while young, short flights of half a mile, afterwards more, till at length they will return from the farthest part of the kingdom. Every bashaw has a basket of these pigeons bred in the seraglio, which from a distance, upon any emergent occasion, (as an insurrection, or the like,) he dispatches, with letters braced under their wings, to the seraglio; which proves a more speedy method, as well as a more safe one, than any other: he sends out more than one pigeon, however, for fear of accidents. Lithgow assures us, that one of these birds will carry a letter from Babylon to Aleppo, which is thirty days' journey, in forty-eight hours. This practice is very ancient: Hirtius and Brutus, at the siege of Modena, held a correspondence by pigeons; and Ovid tells us, that Taurosthenes, by a pigeon stained with purple, gave notice to his father of his victory at the Olympic games, sending it to him at Ægina. In modern times, the most noted were the pigeons of Aleppo, which served as couriers at Alexandretta and Bagdad. But this use of them has been laid aside for the last thirty or forty years, because the Curd robbers killed the pigeons. The manner of sending advice by them, was this: they took pairs which had young ones, and carried them on horseback to the place whence they wished them to return, taking care to let them have a full view. When the news arrived, the correspondent tied a billet to the pigeon's foot, and let her loose. The bird, impatient to see its young, flew off like lightning, and arrived at Aleppo in ten hours from Alexandretta, and in two days from Bagdad. It was easy for them to find their way back, as Aleppo may be discovered at an immense distance. This pigeon has nothing peculiar in its form, except its nostrils, which, instead of being smooth and even, are swelled and rough.

It is presumed it will not be out of place to insert the following curious particulars respecting the MULTIPLYING POWER OF THE WILD PIGEON.--The following account is extracted from Janson's Stranger in America. Mr. Richard Hazen, a land-surveyor, who, in 1741, drew the line which divides Massachusetts from Vermont, gives an interesting account of the multiplying power of nature in the wild pigeon: "For three miles together, (says he,) the pigeons' nests were so thick, that five hundred might be reckoned on beech-trees at one time, and, could they have been counted on the hemlocks as well, he did not doubt that five thousand might be seen at one turn round. Twenty-five nests were frequently found in one beech-tree, in New England. The earth was covered with these trees and with hemlocks, thus loaded with the nests of pigeons. For one hundred acres together, the ground was covered with their dung, to the depth of two inches. Their noise in the evening was extremely troublesome, and so great, that the traveller could not get any sleep where their nests abounded. About an hour before sun-rise they rose in such quantities as to darken the air. When the young pigeons were grown to a proper size, it was common for the first settlers to cut down the trees, and gather a horse-load in a few minutes. The markets at this season, even at Philadelphia, are often overstocked with them; a score of them have lately been purchased for sixpence. But as the land becomes settled, they retire into the back forests, where they are at this day in equal numbers! In North Carolina, wild pigeons or doves pass over the country in such numbers as to darken the air, devouring all kinds of grain in their progress. A large musket, loaded with small shot, fired among them, has killed scores; and boys knock them down with sticks and stones. I did not see this destructive phenomenon; but was credibly informed at Edenton, that it occurs once in seven, and sometimes in ten years. During my residence in that state, I cut holes in the top of my barn, and, by placing food on the roof, soon enticed about half a dozen from the adjacent woods. In a short time they became domesticated, and fed with the fowl, affording a constant and an agreeable food. When I left my residence, they had, notwithstanding the use I made of the young ones, increased to many scores. They grew so familiar, that they would watch my appearance in the morning, and perch upon me, in hopes of obtaining food, with which it was my practice to supply them. They distinguished me from my domestics, whom they would not suffer to approach them. They would permit me to go into their dovecot, without retreating; but the dam would often oppose my taking her young ones."

The following account of A SINGULAR BIRD INHABITING A VOLCANO IN GUADALOUPE, is taken from a respectable source.

Father Dutertre, in his Description of Guadaloupe, the best and most beautiful, in his opinion, of all the Leeward islands, speaks of an extraordinary bird which inhabits its volcanic mountain, called La Souffriere. This creature, called the Devil by the inhabitants, on account of its deformity, is both a night and sea bird. During the day, its vision appears to be indistinct, and it takes refuge near the top of the mountain, where it has its nest in the ground, and where it hatches its eggs. During the night, it flies about, and goes to prey on fish. Its flesh is so delicate, (adds Father Dutertre,) that no huntsman returns from the Souffriere without ardently desiring to have a dozen of these birds suspended at his neck. Labat, the colleague of Dutertre, confirms and adds to the account of the latter. "The bird called the Devil, of La Souffriere, has (he says) membranes at his feet like a duck, and claws like a bird of prey, a sharp and curved beak, large eyes, which cannot bear the light of day, or discern almost any object, so that when surprised in the day-time, at a distance from his nest, he runs against every thing in his way, and falls to the ground; but during the night he is active in extracting his prey from the sea." He adds, that "he is a bird of passage, and is considered a kind of petrel. I have taken pleasure in occasionally observing fishermen catch fish during the night by the light of a straw torch; but here we have a sea-bird of much greater ingenuity, which fishes by the light of a volcano, and hatches his eggs by the warmth of its sulphureous discharge."

The following story is recorded in history as a fact, under the title of A CURIOUS ADVENTURE OF AN OWL.

In a council held at Rome by Pope John XXIII. at the first session, happened the Adventure of the Owl.--"After the mass of the Holy Ghost, all being seated, and John sitting on his throne, suddenly a frightful owl came screaming out of his hole, and placed himself just before the pope, staring earnestly upon him. The arrival of this nocturnal bird in the day-time, caused many speculations: some took it for an ill omen, and were terrified; others smiled, and whispered to each other. As to the Pope, he blushed, was in a sweat, arose, and brake up the assembly. But at the next session, the owl took his place again, fixing his eyes upon John; who was more dismayed than before, and ordered the bird to be driven away. A pleasant sight it was, to behold the prelates occupied in hunting him, for he would not decamp! At last they killed him, as an incorrigible heretic, by throwing their canes at him."--_Jortin's Ecclesiastical History_, vol. v. p. 485, 486.

We shall next record some CURIOUS FACTS IN NATURAL HISTORY.--We often meet in our aviaries with what are called mule canary birds, that is, the offspring of the gray linnet and the canary. "In the country, where the domestic fowls are accustomed to wander to a considerable distance from the farm-yard, I believe it is no uncommon occurrence for a chicken to make its appearance, that is evidently the offspring of the partridge and common hen. Indeed, I am inclined to think that the breed between fowls of the same genus are oftener crossed than we are aware of."

It is a common practice in the country, to set a hen, as it is called, with ducks' eggs; and the agony which she suffers, when she sees her young charge first take to their natural element, the water, has often been observed with sympathy. The following anecdote may be relied upon, as the circumstance was observed by a gentleman of science:--

A hen, which was employed to hatch some ducks' eggs in the neighbourhood of a dyer's mill, where there was a small pond, was observed to exhibit the usual symptoms of terror and alarm when the ducklings first took to the water; but by degrees she became quite reconciled to their habits, and was accustomed to enjoy herself, in great quietness, on the banks, while they gamboled in the pool. For two or three years she uniformly brought out ducklings, and at last, as regularly led them to the water as their natural dam would have done.

In the course of time, however, she brought out a brood of chickens. These she immediately led to the side of the pool also; but, on finding they did not enter the water, she became quite uneasy, invited them close to it, made every motion for them to enter it, flew over the pond, and then called them to follow, but all to no purpose. When she found that nothing would entice them to enter the water, she actually seized upon one or two of them, and threw them into it; and, if she had not been prevented, it is believed she would have drowned her whole progeny. This shews how much the native habits, even of fowls, may be changed by circumstances; and proves, in some degree, the existence of memory without judgment in the feathered tribes.

Some years ago, a farmer in the lower district of Annandale, took it into his head to rob a wild duck of her eggs, and to place them under one of his tame ducks, that was sitting at that time. The young brood (twelve in number) came into the world at the usual period, but one only continued with her stepdame. This extraordinary bird, however, never perfectly acquired the habits or dispositions of her new sisterhood: she never would associate with the tame drakes, but every spring left the farm-yard, and proceeded to the wilds in quest of mates; and, what was remarkably singular, she seemed to have a malicious pleasure in leading them into a snare, and was at great pains to draw them into such situations as admitted of their being easily shot, or otherwise destroyed. She always hatched her young in a peat moss, at some distance from the house, but never failed to bring them to the farm-yard, as soon as they were able to follow her. When this duck was about four years old, the owner was visited by a kinsman from Fife, who was so much taken up with her, that he begged for, and obtained her, as a present. She was put into a cage, and by him conveyed to his house near Kinross. She was kept in confinement for a night and a day; when, seeming perfectly contented, she was let out into the yard, where she set about adjusting herself for some time; she then suddenly took wing, and in the course of a few hours was among her old companions in Annandale. She was a second time conveyed to Fife, and her wings clipped.

She continued perfectly happy, to appearance, till her feathers grew, when she again bade her new friends farewell. She was shot in the neighbourhood of Biggar, by a gentleman, who communicated the circumstance to the owner, whose name he learned from the collar that was found about her neck, containing his name and place of abode.

FORMATION OF THE CHICK IN THE EGG.--Scarcely has the hen sat upon the eggs twelve hours, before some lineaments of the head and body of the chick are discernible in the embryo; at the end of the second day, the heart begins to beat, but no blood is to be seen. In forty-eight hours we may distinguish two vesicles with blood, the pulsation of which is evident; one of them is the left ventricle, the other, the root of the great artery; soon after, one of the auricles of the heart is perceptible, in which pulsation may be remarked as well as in the ventricle. So early as the seventh hour, the wings may be distinguished, and on the head two globules for the brain, one for the beak, and two others for the front and hind part of the head. Towards the end of the fourth day, the two auricles, now distinctly visible, approach nearer the heart than they did before. About the fifth day the liver may be perceived; at the end of one hundred and thirty-eight hours, the lungs and stomach become visible; and in a few hours more, the intestines, veins, and upper jaw. On the seventh day, the brain begins to assume a more consistent form. One hundred and ninety hours after incubation, the beak opens, and flesh appears on the breast. In two hundred and ten, the ribs are formed, and the gall bladder is visible. The bile, in a few hours more, is seen of a green colour; and if the chick be separated from its coverings, it will be seen to move. The feathers begin to shoot towards the two hundred and fortieth hour, and at the same time the skull becomes cartilaginous; in twenty-four hours more, the eyes appear; at the two hundred and eighty-eighth, the ribs are perfected; and at the three hundred and thirty-first, the lungs, the stomach, and the breast, assume their natural appearance. On the eighteenth day of incubation, the first faint piping of the chick is heard. It then continually increases in size and in strength till it emerges from its prison.

By so many different gradations does the adorable wisdom of God conduct these creatures into life; all their progressive evolutions are arranged with order, and there are none without sufficient cause. If the liver is always formed on the fifth day, it is from the preceding state of the chick. No part of its body could appear sooner or later, without some injury to the embryo, and each of its members appears at the most convenient moment. The wise and invariable order in the production of this little body, is evidently the work of supernal power; and we shall be more convinced of it, if we consider the manner in which the chick is formed from the parts which compose the egg.

How admirable is that principle of life, the source of a new being, contained in the egg; all the parts of the animal being invisible till they become developed by warmth! What a wonderful order and regularity is observed in this amazing process,--the same evolutions taking place at once in twenty eggs! Neither does changing the position of the egg at all injure the embryo, or retard the formation of the chick; which, at the time when it breaks the shell, is found to be heavier than the whole egg was at first. These, however admirable, are far from being all the wonders displayed in the progress of incubation. The microscope, and the penetrating investigations of the curious, have only discovered what comes more immediately under the observation of our senses; whilst the discovery of many things remains for those who are to follow us, or perhaps they may never be known in this state of our existence. Much might be asked concerning the mystery connected with the formation of animal bodies, which at present is impenetrable to our researches; but let not this discourage us; let us only endeavour to improve, and make a good use of, the little knowledge we are permitted to acquire, and we shall have a sufficiency to discover at every step the wisdom and power of God, and enough to employ for the benefit of our fellow-creatures.

CHAP. XXI.

CURIOSITIES RESPECTING BIRDS.--(_Concluded._)

_Birds' Nests--Migration of Birds--Curious Method of Bird-Catching in the Faro Isles--Song of Birds._

BIRDS' NESTS.

It wins my admiration, To view the structure of that little work, A bird's nest: mark it well within, without; No tool had he that wrought, no knife to cut, No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert, No glue to join! his little beak was all; And yet how neatly finish'd! _Hurdis._

The structure of Bird's Nests discovers to us many curious objects, which cannot be uninteresting to the reflecting mind. And who does not admire those little regular edifices composed of so many different materials, collected and arranged with so much pains and skill, and constructed with so much industry, elegance, and neatness, with no other tools than a bill and two feet? That men can erect great buildings according to certain rules of art, is not surprising, when we consider that they enjoy the reasoning faculty, and that they possess tools and instruments of various kinds, to facilitate their work; but that a delicate little bird, in want of almost every thing necessary for such an undertaking, with only its bill and claws, should know how to combine so much skill, regularity of form, and solidity of composition, in constructing its nest, is truly wonderful, and never enough to be admired. We shall therefore consider it more minutely.

Nothing is more curious than the nest of a goldfinch or a chaffinch. The inside of it is lined with cotton, wool, and fine silky threads, while the outside is interwoven with thick moss; and that the nest may be less remarkable, and less exposed to the eye of observers, the colour of the moss resembles that of the bark of the tree, or of the hedge, where the nest is built. In some nests, the hair, the down, and the straws, are curiously laid across each other, and interwoven together. There are others, all the parts of which are neatly joined and fastened together by a thread which the bird makes of flax, horse or cow hair, and often of spiders' webs. Other birds, as the blackbird and the lapwing, after having constructed their nest, plaster the outside with a thin coating of mortar, which cements and binds together all the lower parts, and which, with the help of some cow-hair or moss, stuck to it whilst the plaster is wet, keeps it compact and warm. The nests of swallows are differently constructed from the rest. They use neither sticks, straws, nor strings; but they compose a sort of cement, with which they make themselves nests, perfectly neat, secure, and convenient. To moisten the dust of which they form their nests, they frequently skim over the surface of some lake or river, and, dipping their breasts into the water, shake their wet feathers upon the dust till it is sufficiently moist, and then knead it up into a kind of clay with their bills.

But the nests most worthy of our admiration are those of certain Indian birds, which suspend them with great art from the branches of trees, that they may be secure from the pursuit of several animals and insects. In general, each species of bird has a peculiar mode of fixing its nest; some build them on houses, others in trees, some in the grass, others on the ground, and always in that way which is most adapted for the rearing of their young, and the preservation of their species. Such, therefore, is the wonderful instinct of birds, even in the structure and disposition of their nests alone, that we may safely conclude they cannot be mere machines. But is it not also apparent, that in all their works they propose to themselves certain ends? They construct their nests hollow, forming the half of a sphere, that the heat may be more concentric. The nest is covered without by substances more or less coarse, not only to serve as a foundation, but to prevent the wind and insects from entering. Within, it is lined with the most delicate materials, such as wool and feathers, that the nestlings may be soft and warm. Is it not something nearly approaching to reason, which teaches the bird to place its nest in such a manner as to be sheltered from rain, and out of the reach of destructive animals? Where have they learned that they are to produce eggs, which will require a nest to prevent them from being broken, and to keep them in the necessary temperature? that the heat would not be sufficiently concentrated if the nest were larger; and that, if it were smaller, all the young ones could not be contained in it? Who has taught them not to mistake the time, but to calculate so exactly, that the eggs are not laid before the nest is finished? These questions have never been satisfactorily answered, neither can this mystery in nature be clearly explained; all we can do is, to refer it to an instinct, which some animals seem to possess in a manner almost equal to reason: and instinct to them is much more happy and beneficial than reason would be; for they seem to enjoy all the sweets of life without their moments being imbittered by the consideration of their inferior rank in the creation, and without the pain of anticipating evil.

The following account is principally abridged from that very interesting work, The Contemplative Philosopher. The present compiler acknowledges his obligations to that work on many occasions, and gives it his warmest recommendations to the public.

MIGRATION OF BIRDS.--The migration of birds has been justly considered as one of the most wonderful exhibitions of nature. This migration, which is common to the quail, the stork, the crane, the fieldfare, the woodcock, the cuckoo, the martin, the swallow, and various others, is, indeed, a very curious article in natural history, and furnishes a very striking instance of a powerful instinct impressed by the Creator. Dr. Derham observes two circumstances remarkable in this migration: the first, that these untaught, unthinking creatures, should know the proper times for their passage, when to come and when to go; as also, that some should come when others retire. No doubt, the temperature of the air as to heat and cold, and their natural propensity to breed their young, are the great incentives to these creatures to change their habitations. But why should they at all change their habitations? And why is some certain place to be found, in all the terraqueous globe, that, all the year round, can afford them convenient food and habitation?--The second remarkable circumstance is, that they should know which way to steer their course, and whither to go. What instinct is it that can induce a poor foolish bird to venture over vast tracts of land and sea. If it be said, that by their high ascents into the air, they can see across the seas; yet what shall instruct or persuade them, that another land is more proper for their purpose than this? that Great Britain, for instance, should afford them better accommodation than Egypt, the Canaries, Spain, or any of the other intermediate countries?--_Physico-Theology_, book vii. chap. 3.

Birds of passage, moreover, are all peculiarly accommodated, by the structure of their parts, for long flights; and it is remarked, that in their migrations, they observe a wonderful order and polity: they fly in troops, and steer their course, without the aid of a compass, to vast unknown regions. The flight of the wild geese, in a wedge-like figure, has been often observed; to which it is added, by the natural historian of Norway, that the three foremost, who are the soonest tired, retreat behind, and are relieved by others, who are again succeeded by the rest in order. But this circumstance has been observed, many ages before, by Pliny, who describes certain birds of passage flying in the form of a wedge, and spreading wider and wider; those behind resting upon those before, till the leaders being tired, are, in their turn, received into the rear.