Part 14
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."
This passage was long looked upon as a pleasant story, and nothing more; until M. Geoffroy St. Hilaire, during his long residence in Egypt, ascertained the story of Herodotus to be correct in substance, but inexact in details. It is perfectly true that a little bird does exist, which flies incessantly from place to place, searching everywhere, even in the Crocodile's mouth, for the insects which form the principal part of its nourishment. This bird is seen everywhere on the banks of the Nile, and M. Geoffroy has proved it to be of a species already described by Hasselquist, and very like the small winged Plover. If the Trochilos be in reality the little Plover, the bdella cannot be leeches, (which do not exist in the running waters of the Nile) but the small insects known as _gnats_ in Europe. Myriads of these insects dance upon the Nile: they attack the Crocodile upon the inner surface of his palate, and sting the orifice of the glands, which are numerous in the Crocodile's mouth. Then the little Plover, who follows him everywhere, delivers him from these troublesome enemies; and that without any danger to himself, for the Crocodile is always careful, when he is going to shut his mouth, to make some motion which warns the little bird to fly away. At St. Domingo there is a Crocodile which very nearly resembles that of Egypt. This Crocodile is attacked by gnats, from which he would have no means of delivering himself (his tongue, like that of the Crocodile, being fixed) if a bird of a particular species did not give him the same assistance that the Crocodile of the Nile receives from the little Plover. These facts explain the passage in Herodotus, and demonstrate that the animal, there called bdella, is not a leech, but a flying insect similar to our gnat.
Exemplifications of instinct, intelligence, and reason in Birds are by no means rare, but this distinction must be made: instinctive actions are dependent on the nerves, intelligence on the brain; but that which constitutes peculiar qualities of the mind in man has no material organ. The Rev. Mr. Statham has referred to the theory of the facial angle as indicative of the amount of sagacity observable in the animal race, but has expressed his opinion that the theory is utterly at fault in the case of Birds; many of these having a very acute facial angle being considerably more intelligent than others having scarcely any facial angle at all. Size also seems to present another anomaly between the two races of Beasts and Birds; for while the Elephant and the Horse are among the most distinguished of quadrupeds for sagacity and instinct, the larger Birds seem scarcely comparable to the smaller ones in the possession of these attributes. The writer instances this by comparing the Ostrich and the Goose with the Wren, the Robin, the Canary, the Pigeon, and the Crow; and amusingly alludes to the holding of parliaments or convocations of birds of the last species, while the Ostrich is characterised in Scripture as the type of folly.
The author then refers to the poisoning of two young Blackbirds by the parent birds, when they found that they could neither liberate them nor permanently share their captivity. The two fledglings had been taken from a Blackbirds' nest in Surrey-square, and had been placed in a room looking over a garden, in a wicker cage. For some time the old birds attended to their wants, visited them regularly, and fed them with appropriate food; but, at last, getting wearied of the task, or despairing of effecting their liberation, they appear to have poisoned them. They were both found suddenly dead one morning, shortly after having been seen in good health; and on opening their bodies a small leaf, supposed to be that of _Solanum Nigrum_, was found in the stomach of each. The old birds immediately deserted the spot, as though aware of the nefarious deed befitting their name.
As an exemplification of instinct Dr. Horner states that Rooks built on the Infirmary trees at Hull, but never over the street. One year, however, a young couple ventured to build here: for eight mornings in succession the old Rooks proceeded to destroy the nest, when at last the young ones chose a more fitting place.
Mr. A. Strickland, having referred to the tendency of birds to build their nests of materials of a colour resembling that around such nests, relates an instance in which the Fly-catcher built in a red brick wall, and used for the nest mahogany shavings. Referring to the meeting of Rooks for judicial purposes. Mr. Strickland states that he once saw a Rook tried in this way, and ultimately killed by the rest.
SONGS OF BIRDS AND SEASONS OF THE DAY.
Although nearly half a century has elapsed since the following observations were communicated to the Royal Society by Dr. Jenner, their expressive character is as charming as ever, and their accuracy as valuable:--
"There is a beautiful propriety in the order in which Singing Birds fill up the day with their pleasing harmony. The accordance between their songs, and the aspect of nature at the successive periods of the day at which they sing, is so remarkable that one cannot but suppose it to be the result of benevolent design.
"From the _Robin_ (not the _Lark_, as has been generally imagined), as soon as twilight has drawn its imperceptible line between night and day, begins his artless song. How sweetly does this harmonize with the soft dawning of the day! He goes on till the twinkling sunbeams begin to tell him that his notes no longer accord with the rising sun. Up starts the _Lark_, and with him a variety of sprightly songsters, whose lively notes are in perfect correspondence with the gaiety of the morning. The general warbling continues, with now and then an interruption by the transient croak of the _Raven_, the scream of the _Jay_, or the pert chattering of the _Daw_. The _Nightingale_, unwearied by the vocal exertions of the night, joins his inferiors in sound in the general harmony. The _Thrush_ is wisely placed on the summit of some lofty tree, that its piercing notes may be softened by distance before it reaches the ear, while the mellow _Blackbird_ seeks the lower branches.
"Should the sun, having been eclipsed by a cloud, shine forth with fresh effulgence, how frequently we see the _Goldfinch_ perch on some blossomed bough, and hear his song poured forth in a strain peculiarly energetic; while the sun, full shining on his beautiful plumes, displays his golden wings and crimson crest to charming advantage. Indeed, a burst of sunshine in a cloudy day, or after a heavy shower, seems always to wake up a new gladness in the little musicians, and invite them to an answering burst of minstrelsy.
"As evening advances, the performers gradually retire, and the concert softly dies away. At sunset the _Robin_ again sends up his twilight song, till the still more serene hour of night sends him to his bower of rest. And now, in unison with the darkened earth and sky, no sooner is the voice of the _Robin_ hushed, than the _Owl_ sends forth his slow and solemn tones, well adapted to the serious hour."
FOOTNOTES:
[12] The popular name of this bird is the _Umbrella Bird_. On its head it bears a crest, different from that of any other bird. It is formed of feathers more than two inches long, very thickly set, and with hairy plumes curving over at the end. These can be laid back so as to be hardly visible, or can be erected and spread out on every side, forming a dome completely covering the head, and even reaching beyond the point of the beak; the individual feathers then stand out something like the down-bearing seeds of the dandelion. Besides this, there is another ornamental appendage on the breast, formed by a fleshy tubercle, as thick as a quill and an inch and a-half long, which hangs down from the neck, and is thickly covered with glossy feathers, forming a large pendent plume or tassel. This, also, the bird can either press to its breast, so as to be scarcely visible, or can swell out so as almost to conceal the forepart of its body.
[13] "Athenæum," No. 1467.
OWLS.
These nocturnal birds of prey have large heads and great projecting eyes, directing forwards, and surrounded with a circle of loose and delicate feathers, more or less developed, according to the nocturnal or comparatively diurnal habits of the species. The position of the eyes, giving a particular fulness and breadth to the head, has gained for the Owl the intellectual character so universally awarded to it. The concave facial disc of feathers with which they are surrounded materially aids vision by concentrating the rays of light to an intensity better suited to the opacity of the medium in which power is required to be exercised. "They may be compared," says Mr. Yarrell, "to a person near-sighted, who sees objects with superior magnitude and brilliancy when within the prescribed limits of his natural powers of vision, from the increased angle these objects subtend." Their beaks are completely curved, or raptorial; they have the power of turning the outer toe either backwards or forwards; they fly weakly, and near the ground; but, from their soft plumage, stealthily, stretching out their hind legs that they may balance their large and heavy heads. Their sense of hearing is very acute: they not only look, but listen for prey.
The Owl is a bird of mystery and gloom, and a special favourite with plaintive poets. We find him with Ariel:--
"There I couch when Owls do cry."
He figures in the nursery rhyme of "Cock Robin." In reply to "Who dug his grave?"--
"I, says the Owl, with my little shovel-- I dug his grave."
He hoots over graves, and his dismal note adds to the terror of darkness:--
"'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, And the Owls have awakened the crowing cock; Tu-whit! tu-whoo! And hark again the crowing cock, How drowsily it crew.
. . . . . . . . .
"When blood is nipt, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring Owl, Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! tu-whoo! _a merry note_, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot!"
Titania sings of
"The clamorous Owl, that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits."
Bishop Hall has this "Occasional Meditation" upon the sight of an Owl in the twilight:--"What a strange melancholic life doth this creature lead; to hide her head all the day long in an ivy-bush, and at night, when all other birds are at rest, to fly abroad and vent her harsh notes. I know not why the ancients have _sacred_ this bird to wisdom, except it be for her safe closeness and singular perspicuity; that when other domestrial and airy creatures are blind, she only hath insured light to discern the least objects for her own advantage." We may here note that Linnæus, with many other naturalists and antiquaries, have supposed the Horned Owl to have been the bird of Minerva; but Blumenbach has shown, from the ancient works of Grecian art, that it was not this, but rather some smooth-headed species, probably the _Passerina_, or Little Owl.
The divine has, in the above passage, overstated the melancholy of the Owl; as has also the poet, who sings:--
"From yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping Owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign."
Shakspeare more accurately terms her "the mousing Owl," for her nights are spent in barns, or in hunting and devouring sparrows in the churchyard elms. "Moping, indeed!" says a pleasing observer. "So far from this, she is a sprightly, active ranger of the night, who had as lief sit on a grave as a rose-bush; who is as valiant a hunter as Nimroud, chasing all sorts of game, from the dormouse to the hare and the young lamb, and devouring them, while her mate hoots to her from some picturesque ruin, and invites her, when supper is over, to return to him and her babes."
But the tricks of the Owl by night render her the terror of all other birds, great and small. In Northern Italy, persons in rustic districts which are well wooded, catch and tame an Owl, put a light chain upon her legs, and then place her on a small cross-bar on the top of a high pole, which is fixed in the earth. Half-blinded by the light, the defenceless captive has to endure patiently the jeers and insults of the dastardly tribes from the surrounding groves and thickets, who issue in clouds to scream, chirp, and flit about their enemy. Some, trusting to the swiftness of their wings, sweep close by, and peck at her feathers as they pass, and are sometimes punished by the Owl with her formidable beak for their audacity. Meanwhile, from darkened windows, sportsmen, with fowling-pieces well charged with shot, fire at the hosts of birds, wheeling, shrieking, screaming, and thickening around the Owl. All the guns are fired at once, and the grass is strewn for many yards round with the slain; while the Owl, whom they have been careful not to hit, utters a joyous whoo! whoo! at the fate of her persecutors.
Major Head thus describes the _Biscacho_, or Coquimbo, a curious species of Owl, found all over the pampas of South America:--"Like rabbits, they live in holes, which are in groups in every direction. These animals are never seen in the day, but as soon as the lower limb of the sun reaches the horizon, they are seen issuing from the holes. The Biscachos, when full-grown, are nearly as big as badgers, but their head resembles a rabbit's, except that they have large bushy whiskers. In the evening they sit outside the holes, and they all appear to be moralizing. They are the most serious-looking animals I ever saw; and even the young ones are grey-headed, wear moustachios, and look thoughtful and grave. In the daytime their holes are guarded by two little owls, which are never an instant away from their posts. As one gallops by these owls, they always stand looking at the stranger, and then at each other, moving their old-fashioned heads in a manner which is quite ridiculous, until one rushes by them, when they get the better of their dignified looks, and they both run into the Biscacho's hole."