Chapter X: Birds (3)

And many years ago there was exhibited a very puzzling automaton, which, although of very small size and quite isolated from any possibly mechanical connection with its designer, performed certain movements in any order that the fancy of the observers might dictate. The explanation turned out to be that within the mechanism of the figure there was a canary bird which had been taught to run in different directions at different words or tones of command, so by its weight starting the mechanism to perform the particular movement required.

The rapidity with which birds learn not to fly against newly erected telegraph wires, displays a large amount of observation and intelligence. The fact has been repeatedly observed. For instance, Mr. Holden says:--

About twelve years ago I was residing on the coast of
county Antrim, at the time the telegraph wires were
set up along that charming road which skirts the sea
between Larne and Cushendall. During the winter months
large flocks of starlings always migrated over from
Scotland, arriving in the early morning. The first
winter after the wires were stretched along the coast
I frequently found numbers of starlings lying dead or
wounded on the road-side, they having evidently in
their flight in the dusky morn struck against the
telegraph wires, not blown against them, as these
accidents often occurred when there was but little
wind. I found that the peasantry had come to the
conclusion that these unusual deaths were due to the
flash of the telegraph messages killing any starlings
that happened to be perched on the wires when working.
Strange to say that throughout the following and
succeeding winters hardly a death occurred among the
starlings on their arrival. It would thus appear that
the birds were deeply impressed, and understood the
cause of the fatal accidents among their
fellow-travellers the previous year, and hence
carefully avoided the telegraph wires; not only so,
but the young birds must also have acquired this
knowledge and perpetuated it, a knowledge which they
could not have acquired by experience or even
instinct, unless the instinct was really inherited
memory derived from the parents whose brains were
first impressed by it.[181]

Similar facts are given in Buckland's 'Curiosities of Natural History,'[182] and I have myself known of a case in Scotland where a telegraph was erected across a piece of moorland. During the first season some of the grouse were injured by flying against the wires, but never in any succeeding season. Why the young birds should avoid them without having had individual experience may, I think, be explained by the consideration that in birds which fly in flocks or coveys, it is the older ones that lead the way. This explanation would not, of course, apply to birds which fly singly; but I am not aware that any observations have gone to show that the young of such birds avoid the wires.

I quote the following exhibition of intelligence in an eagle from Menault:--

The following account of the patience with which a
golden eagle submitted to surgical treatment, and the
care which it showed in the gradual use of the healing
limb, must suggest the idea that something very near
to prudence and reason existed in the bird. This eagle
was caught in a fox-trap set in the forest of
Fontainebleau, and its claw had been terribly torn. An
operation was performed on the limb by the
conservators of the Zoological Gardens at Paris, which
the noble bird bore with a rational patience. Though
his head was left loose, he made no attempts to
interfere with the agonising extraction of the
splinters, or to disturb the arrangements of the
annoying bandages. He seemed really to understand the
nature of the services rendered, and that they were
for his good.[183]

Speaking of the Urubu vultures, Mr. Bates says:--

They assemble in great numbers in the villages about
the end of the wet season, and are then ravenous with
hunger. My cook could not leave the open kitchen at
the back of the house for a moment whilst the dinner
was cooking, on account of their thievish
propensities. Some of them were always loitering
about, watching their opportunity, and the instant the
kitchen was left unguarded, the bold marauders marched
in and lifted the lids of the saucepans with their
beaks to rob them of their contents. The boys of the
village lie in wait, and shoot them with bow and
arrow; and vultures have consequently acquired such a
dread of these weapons, that they may be often kept
off by hanging a bow from the rafters of the
kitchen.[184]

Mrs. Lee, in her 'Anecdotes', says that one day her
gardener was struck by the strange conduct of a robin,
which the man had often fed. The bird fluttered about
him in so strange a manner--now coming close, then
hurrying away, always in the same direction--that the
gardener followed its retreating movements. The robin
stopped near a flower-pot, and fluttered over it in
great agitation. It was soon found that a nest had
been formed in the pot, and contained several young.
Close by was a snake, intent, doubtless, upon making a
meal of the brood.

The following appeared in the 'Gardener's Chronicle' for Aug. 3, 1878, under the initials 'T. G.' I wrote to the editor requesting him to supply me with the name of his correspondent, and also to state whether he knew him to be a trustworthy man. In reply the editor said that he knew his correspondent to be trustworthy, and that his name is Thomas Guring:--

About thirty years ago the small market town in which
I reside was skirted by an open common, upon which a
number of geese were kept by cottagers. The number of
the birds was very great. . . . Our corn market at that
time was held in the street in front of the principal
inn, and on the market day a good deal of corn was
scattered from sample bags by millers. Somehow the
geese found out about the spilling of corn, and they
appear to have held a consultation upon the
subject. . . . From this time they never missed their
opportunity, and the entry of the geese was always
looked for and invariably took place. On the morning
after the market, early, and always on the proper
morning, fortnightly, in they came cackling and
gobbling in merry mood, and they never came on the
wrong day. The corn, of course, was the attraction,
but in what manner did they mark the time? One might
have supposed that their perceptions were awakened on
the market day by the smell of corn, or perhaps by the
noise of the market traffic; but my story is not yet
finished, and its sequel is against this view. It
happened one year that a day of national humiliation
was kept, and the day appointed was that on which our
market should have been held. The market was
postponed, and the geese for once were baffled. There
was no corn to tickle their olfactory organs from
afar, no traffic to appeal to their sense of hearing.
I think our little town was as still as it usually is
on Sundays. . . . The geese should have stopped away;
but they knew their day, and came as usual. . . . I do
not pretend to remember under what precise
circumstances the habit of coming into the street was
acquired. It may have been formed by degrees, and
continued from year to year; but how the old birds, who
must have led the way, marked the time so as to come in
regularly and fortnightly, on a particular day of the
week, I am at a loss to conceive.

Livingstone's 'Expedition to the Zambesi, 1865,' p. 209, gives a conclusive account of the bird called the honey-guide, which leads persons to bees' nests. 'They are quite as anxious to lure the stranger to the bees' hive as other birds are to draw him away from their own nests.' The object of the bird is to obtain the pupæ of the bees which are laid bare by the ravaging of the nest. The habits of this bird have long been known and described in books on popular natural history; but it is well that the facts have been observed by so trustworthy a man as Livingstone. He adds, 'How is it that members of this family have learned that all men, white and black, are fond of honey? 'We can only answer, by intelligent observation in the first instance, passing into individual and hereditary habit, and so eventually into a fixed instinct.

Brehm relates an instance of cautious sagacity in a pewit. He had placed some horsehair snares over its nest, but the bird seeing them, pushed them aside with her bill. Next day he set them thickly round the nest; but now the bird, instead of running as usual to the nest along the ground, alighted directly upon it. This shows a considerable appreciation of mechanical appliances, as does also the following.

Mrs. G. M. E. Campbell writes to me:--

At Ardglass, co. Down, Ireland, is a long tract of
turf coming to the edge of the rocks overhanging the
sea, where cattle and geese feed; at a barn on this
tract there was a low enclosure, with a door fastening
by a hook and staple to the side-post: when the hook
was out of the staple, the door fell open by its own
weight. I one day saw a goose with a large troop of
goslings coming off the turf to this door, which was
secured by the hook being in the staple. The goose
waited for a minute or two, as if for the door to be
opened, and then turned round as if to go away, but
what she did was to make a rush at the door, and
making a dart with her beak at the point of the hook
nearly threw it out of the staple; she repeated this
manoeuvre, and succeeded at the third attempt, the
door fell open, and the goose led her troop in with a
sound of triumphant chuckling. How had the goose
learned that the force of the rush was needful to give
the hook a sufficient toss?

Mrs. K. Addison sends me the following instance of the use of signs on the part of an intelligent jackdaw. The bird was eighteen months old, and lived in some bushes in Mrs. Addison's garden. She writes:--

I generally made a practice of filling a large basin
which stands under the trees every morning for Jack's
bath. A few days ago I forgot this duty, and was
reminded of the fact in a very singular manner.
Another of my daily occupations is to open my
dressing-room shutters about eleven o'clock of a
morning. Now these said shutters open almost on to the
trees where Jack lives. The day I forgot his bath,
when I opened the shutters I found my little friend
waiting just outside them, as though he knew that he
should see me there; and when he did he placed himself
immediately in front of me, and then shook himself and
spread out his wings just as he always does in his
bath. The action was so suggestive and so
unmistakable, that I spoke just as I would have done
to a child--'Oh yes, Jack, of course you shall have
some water.'

Mr. W. W. Nichols writes to 'Nature:'--

The Central Prison at Agra is the roosting-place of
great numbers of the common blue pigeon; they fly out
to the neighbouring country for food every morning,
and return in the evening, when they drink at a tank
just outside the prison walls. In this tank are a
large number of fresh-water turtles, which lie in wait
for the pigeons just under the surface of the water
and at the edge of it. Any bird alighting to drink
near one of these turtles has a good chance of having
its head bitten off and eaten; and the headless bodies
of pigeons have been picked up near the water, showing
the fate which has sometimes befallen the birds. The
pigeons, however, are aware of the danger, and have
hit on the following plan to escape it. A pigeon comes
in from its long flight, and, as it nears the tank,
instead of flying down at once to the water's edge,
will cross the tank at about twenty feet above its
surface, and then fly back to the side from which it
came, apparently selecting for alighting a safe spot
which it had remarked as it flew over the bank; but
even when such a spot has been selected the bird will
not alight at the edge of the water, but on the bank
about a yard from the water, and will then run down
quickly to the water, take two or three hurried gulps
of it, and then fly off to repeat the same process at
another part of the tank till its thirst is satisfied.
I had often watched the birds doing this, and could
not account for their strange mode of drinking till
told by my friend the superintendent of the prison, of
the turtles which lay in ambush for the pigeons.

As a still more remarkable instance of the display of intelligence by a bird of this species, I shall quote the following observation of Commander R. H. Napier, also published in 'Nature' (viii., p. 324):--

A number of them (pouters) were feeding on a few oats
that had been accidentally let fall while fixing the
nose-bag on a horse standing at bait. Having finished
all the grain at hand, a large 'pouter' rose, and
flapping its wings furiously, flew directly at the
horse's eyes, causing the animal to toss his head, and
in doing so, of course shake out more corn. I saw this
several times repeated--in fact, whenever the supply
on hand had been exhausted. . . . Was not this something
more than instinct?

The following display of intelligence on the part of swallows is communicated to me by Mr. Charles Wilson. It can scarcely be attributed to accident, and does not admit of mal-observation. My informant says:--

Two swallows were building a nest in the verandah of a
house in Victoria, but as their nest was resting
partly on a bell-wire, it was by this means twice
pulled down. They then began afresh, making a tunnel
through the lower part of the nest, through which the
wire was able to act without doing damage.

Another gentleman writes me of another use to which he has observed swallows put the artifice of building tunnels. Being molested by sparrows which desired to take forcible possession of their nest, a pair of swallows modified the entrance of the latter, so that instead of opening by a simple hole under the eaves of a house, it was carried on in the form of a tunnel.

Linnæus says that the martin, when it builds under the eaves of houses, sometimes is molested by sparrows taking possession of the nest. The pair of martins to which the nest belongs are not strong enough to dislodge the invaders; but they convoke their companions, some of whom guard the captives, whilst others bring clay, close up the entrance of the nest, and leave the sparrows to die miserably. This account has been to a large extent independently confirmed by Jesse, who seems not to have been acquainted with the statement of Linnæus. He writes:--

Swallows seem to entertain the recollection of injury,
and to resent it when an opportunity offers. A pair of
swallows built their nest under the ledge of a house
at Hampton Court. It was no sooner completed than a
couple of sparrows drove them from it, notwithstanding
the swallows kept up a good resistance, and even
brought others to assist them. The intruders were left
in peaceable possession of the nest, till the two old
birds were obliged to quit it to provide food for
their young. They had no sooner departed than several
swallows came and broke down the nest; and I saw the
young sparrows lying dead on the ground. As soon as
the nest was demolished, the swallows began to rebuild
it.[185]

The same author gives the following and somewhat similar case:--

A pair of swallows built their nest against one of the
first-floor windows of an uninhabited house in Merrion
Square, Dublin. A sparrow, however, took possession of
it, and the swallows were repeatedly seen clinging to
the nest, and endeavouring to gain an entrance to the
abode they had erected with so much labour. All their
efforts, however, were defeated by the sparrow, who
never once quitted the nest. The perseverance of the
swallows was at length exhausted: they took flight,
but shortly afterwards returned, accompanied by a
number of their congeners, each of them having a piece
of dirt in its bill. By this means they succeeded in
stopping up the hole, and the intruder was immured in
total darkness. Soon afterwards the nest was taken
down and exhibited to several persons, with the dead
sparrow in it. In this case there appears to have been
not only a reasoning faculty, but the birds must have
been possessed of the power of communicating their
resentment and their wishes to their friends, without
whose aid they could not thus have avenged the injury
they had sustained.[186]

That birds sometimes act in concert may also be gathered from the following observations recorded by Mr. Buck:--

I have constantly seen a flock of pelicans, when on
the feed, form a line across a lake, and drive the
fish before them up its whole length, just as
fishermen would with a net.[187]

The following is extracted from Sir E. Tennent's 'Natural History of Ceylon,' and displays remarkable intelligence on the part of the crows in that island:--

One of these ingenious marauders, after vainly
attitudinising in front of a chained watch-dog, that
was lazily gnawing a bone, and after fruitlessly
endeavouring to divert his attention by dancing before
him, with head awry and eye askance, at length flew
away for a moment, and returned bringing a companion
which perched itself on a branch a few yards in the
rear. The crow's grimaces were now actively renewed,
but with no better success, till its confederate,
poising itself on its wings, descended with the utmost
velocity, striking the dog upon the spine with all the
force of its strong beak. The ruse was successful; the
dog started with surprise and pain, but not quickly
enough to seize his assailant, whilst the bone he had
been gnawing was snatched away by the first crow the
instant his head was turned. Two well-authenticated
instances of the recurrence of this device came within
my knowledge at Colombo, and attest the sagacity and
powers of communication and combination possessed by
these astute and courageous birds.

This account, which would be difficult of credence if narrated by a less competent author, is strikingly confirmed by an independent observation on the crows of Japan, which has recently been published by Miss Bird, in whose words I shall render it. She writes:--

In the inn garden I saw a dog eating a piece of
carrion in the presence of several of these covetous
birds. They evidently said a great deal to each other
on the subject, and now and then, one or two of them
tried to pull the meat away from him, which he
resented. At last a big strong crow succeeded in
tearing off a piece, with which he returned to the
pine where the others were congregated, and after much
earnest speech they all surrounded the dog, and the
leading bird dexterously dropped the small piece of
meat within reach of his mouth, when he immediately
snapped at it, letting go the big piece unwisely for a
second, on which two of the crows flew away with it to
the pine, and with much fluttering and hilarity they
all ate, or rather gorged it, the deceived dog looking
vacant and bewildered for a moment, after which he sat
under the tree and barked at them inanely. A gentleman
told me that he saw a dog holding a piece of meat in
like manner in the presence of three crows, which also
vainly tried to tear it from him, and after a
consultation they separated, two going as near as they
dared to the meat, while the third gave the tail a
bite sharp enough to make the dog turn round with a
squeak, on which the other villains seized the meat,
and the three fed triumphantly upon it on the top of a
wall.[188]

These two independent statements by competent observers of such similar exhibitions of intelligence by crows, justifies us in accepting the fact, remarkable though it be. As further corroboration, however, I shall quote still another independent and closely similar observation, which I find in a letter to me from Sir J. Clarke Jervoise, who says, while writing of rooks which he has observed in England:--

A pheasant used to come very boldly and run off with
large pieces of food, which he could only divide by
shaking, and he was closely watched by the rooks for
the pieces that flew out of his reach. He learned to
run off into the shrubs, followed by the rooks, who
pulled his tail to make him drop his food.

I shall next quote a highly interesting observation which seems to have been well made, and which displays remarkable intelligence on the part of the birds described. These are Turnstones, which, as their name implies, turn over stones, &c., in order to obtain as food the sundry small creatures concealed beneath. In this case the observer was Edward. Being concealed in a hollow, and unnoticed by the birds, he saw a pair trying to turn over the body of a stranded cod-fish, three and a half feet long, and buried in the sand to a depth of several inches. He thus describes what he saw:--

Having got fairly settled down in my pebbly
observatory, I turned my undivided attention to the
birds before me. They were boldly pushing at the fish
with their bills, and then with their breasts. Their
endeavours, however, were in vain: the object remained
immovable. On this they both went round to the
opposite side, and began to scrape away the sand from
beneath the fish. After removing a considerable
quantity, they again came back to the spot which they
had left, and went once more to work with their bills
and breasts, but with as little apparent success as
formerly. Nothing daunted, however, they ran round a
second time to the other side, and recommenced their
trenching operations with a seeming determination not
to be baffled in their object, which evidently was to
undermine the dead animal before them, in order that
it might be the more easily overturned.

While they were thus employed, and after they had
laboured in this manner at both sides alternately for
nearly half an hour, they were joined by another of
their own species, which came flying with rapidity
from the neighbouring rocks. Its timely arrival was
hailed with evident signs of joy. I was led to this
conclusion from the gestures which they exhibited, and
from a low but pleasant murmuring noise to which they
gave utterance so soon as the new-comer made his
appearance. Of their feelings he seemed to be
perfectly aware, and he made his reply to them in a
similar strain. Their mutual congratulations being
over, they all three set to work; and after labouring
vigorously for a few minutes in removing the sand,
they came round to the other side, and putting their
breasts simultaneously to the fish, they succeeded in
raising it some inches from the sand, but were unable
to turn it over. It went down again into its sandy
bed, to the manifest disappointment of the three.
Resting, however, for a space, and without leaving
their respective positions, which were a little apart
the one from the other, they resolved, it appears, to
give the work another trial. Lowering themselves, with
their breasts pressed close to the sand, they managed
to push their bills underneath the fish, which they
made to rise about the same height as before.
Afterwards, withdrawing their bills, but without
losing the advantage which they had gained, they
applied their breasts to the object. This they did
with such force, and to such purpose, that at length
it went over, and rolled several yards down a slight
declivity. It was followed to some distance by the
birds themselves before they could recover their
bearing.[189]

I shall now bring this chapter to a close by presenting all the evidence that I have been able to collect with regard to the punishment of malefactors among rooks.

Goldsmith, who used constantly to observe a rookery from his window, says that the selection of a site for the building of a nest is a matter of much anxious deliberation on the part of a young crow couple; the male and female 'examining all the trees of a grove very attentively, and when they have fixed upon a branch that seems fit for their purpose, they continue to sit upon it, and observe it very sedulously for two or three days longer:'--

It often happens that the young couple have made
choice of a place too near the mansion of an older
pair, who do not choose to be incommoded by such
troublesome neighbours; a quarrel, therefore,
instantly ensues, in which the old ones are always
victorious. The young couple, thus expelled, are
obliged again to go through their
fatigues--deliberating, examining, and choosing; and,
having taken care to keep their due distance, the nest
begins again, and their industry deserves
commendation. But their activity is often too great in
the beginning; they soon grow weary of bringing the
materials of their nests from distant places, and they
very early perceive that sticks may be provided nearer
home, with less honesty indeed, but some degree of
address. Away they go, therefore, to pilfer as fast as
they can, and, whenever they see a nest unguarded,
they take care to rob it of the very choicest sticks
of which it is composed. But these thefts never go
unpunished, and probably, upon complaint being made,
there is a general punishment inflicted. I have seen
eight or ten rooks come upon such occasions, and,
setting upon the new nest of the young couple, all at
once tear it to pieces in a moment.

At length, however, the young pair find the necessity
of going more regularly to work. While one flies to
fetch the materials, the other sits upon the tree to
guard it; and thus in the space of three or four days,
with a skirmish now and then between, the pair have
filled up a commodious nest, composed of sticks
without, and of fibrous roots and long grass within.
From the instant the female begins to lay, all
hostilities are at an end; not one of the whole grove,
that a little before treated her so rudely, will now
venture to molest her, so that she brings forth her
brood with perfect tranquillity. Such is the severity
with which even native rooks are treated by each
other; but if a foreign rook should attempt to make
himself a denizen of their society, he would meet with
no favour, the whole grove would at once be up in arms
against him, and expel him without mercy.

Couch says ('Illustrations of Instinct,' p. 334 _et seq._):--

The wrong-doers being discovered, the punishment is
appropriate to the offence; by the destruction of
their dishonest work they are taught that they who
build must find their own bricks or sticks, and not
their neighbours', and that if they wish to live in
the enjoyment of the advantages of the social
condition, they must endeavour to conform their
actions to the principles of the rookery of which they
have been made members.

It is not known what enormities led to the institution
of another tribunal of the same kind, called the Crow
Court, but according to Dr. Edmonson, in his 'View of
the Shetland Islands,' its proceedings are as
authoritative and regular, and it is remarkable as
occurring in a species (_Corvus Cornice_) so near akin
to the rook. The Crow Court is a sort of general
assembling of birds who, in their usual habits, are
accustomed to live in pairs, scattered at great
distances from each other; when they visit the south
or west of England, as they do in severe winters, they
are commonly solitary. In their summer haunts in the
Shetland Islands, numbers meet together from different
points on a particular hill or field; and on these
occasions the assembly is not complete, and does not
begin its business for a day or two, till, all the
deputies having arrived, a general clamour or
croaking ensues, and the whole of the court, judges,
barristers, ushers, audience, and all, fall upon the
two or three prisoners at the bar, and beat them till
they kill them. When this is accomplished the court
breaks up and quietly disperses.

In the northern parts of Scotland (says Dr. Edmonson),
and in the Faroe Islands, extraordinary meetings of
crows are occasionally known to occur. They collect in
great numbers, as if they had all been summoned for
the occasion; a few of the flock sit with drooping
heads, and others seem as grave as judges, while
others again are exceedingly active and noisy; in the
course of about one hour they disperse, and it is not
uncommon, after they have flown away, to find one or
two left dead on the spot. These meetings will
sometimes continue for a day or two before the object,
whatever it may be, is completed. Crows continue to
arrive from all quarters during the session. As soon
as they have all arrived, a very general noise ensues;
and, shortly after, the whole fall upon one or two
individuals, and put them to death. When the execution
has been performed, they quietly disperse.

Similarly, the Bishop of Carlisle writes in the 'Nineteenth Century' for July 1881:--

I have seen also a jackdaw in the midst of a
congregation of rooks, apparently being tried for some
misdemeanour. First Jack made a speech, which was
answered by a general cawing of the rooks; this
subsiding, Jack again took up his parable, and the
rooks in their turn replied in chorus. After a time
the business, whatever it was, appeared to be settled
satisfactorily: if Jack was on his trial, as he seemed
to be, he was honourably acquitted by acclamation; for
he went to his home in the towers of Ely Cathedral,
and the rooks also went their way.

Lastly, Major-General Sir George Le Grand Jacob, K.C.S.I., C.B., writes to me that while sitting in a verandah in India, he saw three or four crows come and perch on a neighbouring house. They then cawed continuously with such peculiar sound and vigour as to attract his attention. His account proceeds:--

Soon a gathering of crows from all quarters took
place, until the roof of the guard-house was blackened
by them. Thereupon a prodigious clatter ensued; it was
plain that a 'palaver' was going forward. Some of its
members, more eager than others, skipping about, I
became much interested, and narrowly watched the
proceedings, all within a dozen yards of me. After
much cawing and clamour, the whole group suddenly rose
into the air, and kept circling round half a dozen of
their fellows, one of whom had been clearly told off
for punishment, for the five repeatedly attacked it in
quick succession, allowing no opportunity for their
victim to escape, which he was trying to do, until
they had cast him fluttering on the ground about
thirty yards from my chair. Unfortunately I rushed
forward to pick up the bird, prostrate but fluttering
on the grass which was like a lawn before the
building. I succeeded only in touching it, for it
wriggled away from my grasp, and flew greatly crippled
and close to the ground into the neighbouring bushes,
where I lost sight of it. All the others, after
circling round me and chattering, angrily as I
thought, flew away, on my resuming my seat, in the
direction taken by their victim.

[Since going to press I have seen, through the
kindness of Mr. Seebohm, some specimens of cuckoo's
eggs coloured in imitation of those belonging to the
birds in the nests of which they are laid. There can
be no question about the imitation, and I add this
note to mitigate the criticism which I have passed
upon Professor Newton's theory of the cause. For Mr.
Seebohm has pointed out to me that the theory becomes
more probable if we consider that a cuckoo reared in
the nest of any particular bird is likely afterwards
to choose a similar nest for the deposition of its own
eggs. Whether or not the memory of a bird would thus
act could only, of course, be certainly proved by
experiment; but in view of the possibility that it
may, Professor Newton's theory becomes more probable
than it is if the selection of the appropriate nest is
supposed to depend only on inheritance.

I most also add that Dr. Sclater has been kind enough
to draw my attention to a remarkable description of a
species of Bower-bird, published by Dr. Beccari in the
_Gardener's Chronicle_ for March 16, 1879. This
species is called the Gardener Bower-bird (_Amblyornis
niornata_), and inhabits New Guinea. The animal is
about the size of a turtle-dove, and its bower--or
rather hut--is built round the stem of a tree in the
shape of a cone, with a space between the stem of the
tree and the walls of the hut. The latter are composed
of stems of an orchid with their leaves on--this
particular plant being chosen by the birds apparently
because its leaves remain long fresh. But the most
extraordinary structure is the garden, which is thus
described by Dr. Beccari:--'Before the cottage there
is a meadow of moss. This is brought to the spot and
left free from grass, stones, or anything which would
offend the eye. On this green turf flowers and fruits
of pretty colour are placed, so as to form an elegant
little garden. The greater part of the decoration is
collected round the entrance to the nest, and it would
appear that the husband offers these his daily gifts
to his wife. The objects are very various, but always
of a vivid colour. There were some fruits of a
Garcinia like a small-sized apple. Others were the
fruits of Gardencias of a deep yellow colour in the
interior. I saw also small rosy fruits, probably of a
Scitamineous plant, and beautiful rosy flowers of a
new Vaccinium. There were also fungi and mottled
insects placed on the turf. As soon as the objects are
faded they are moved to the back of the hut.' There is
a fine-coloured plate of this bird in its garden,
published in the _Birds of New Guinea_, by Mr. Gould
Part ix., 1879.]

FOOTNOTES:

[145] _Curiosities_, &c., p. 126. Wilson also, in his _American Ornithology_, gives the following sufficiently credible account of the memory of a crow:--'A gentleman who resided on the Delaware, a few miles below Easton, had raised [reared] a crow, with whose tricks and society he used frequently to amuse himself. This crow lived long in the family, but at length disappeared, having, as was then supposed, been shot by some vagrant gunner, or destroyed by accident. About eleven months after this, as the gentleman one morning, in company with several others, was standing on the river shore, a number of crows happened to pass by; one of them left the flock, and flying directly towards the company, alighted on the gentleman's shoulder, and began to gabble away with great volubility, as one long-absent friend naturally enough does on meeting another. On recovering from his surprise the gentleman instantly recognised his old acquaintance, and endeavoured, by several civil but sly manoeuvres, to lay hold of him; but the crow, not altogether relishing quite so much familiarity, having now had a taste of the sweets of liberty, cautiously eluded all his attempts; and suddenly glancing his eye on his distant companions, mounted in the air after them, soon overtook and mingled with them, and was never afterwards seen to return.'

[146] _Journal of Mental Science_, July 1879.

[147] Couch, _Illustrations of Instinct_, p. 165.

[148] _Gleanings_, vol. i., pp. 112-13.

[149] Couch, _Illustrations of Instinct_, p. 232.

[150] See especially Bingley, _Animal Biography_, vol. ii., pp. 327-29.

[151] _Gleanings_, pp. 58-9.

[152] Smiles, _Life of Edward_, p. 240.

[153] _History of Mexico_, p. 220.

[154] _Zoologist_, vol. ii.

[155] Watson, _Reasoning Power of Animals_, pp. 375-76, where see also some curious cases of male storks slaying their females upon the latter hatching out eggs of other birds. He gives an exactly similar case as having occurred with the domestic cock; and in Bingley (_loc. cit._, vol. ii., p. 241) there is quoted from Dr. Percival another case of the same kind, in which a cock killed his hen as soon as she had hatched out a brood of young partridges from eggs which had been set to her.

[156] See Darwin. _Descent of Man_, pp. 92, 381, 406, 413.

[157] Gould, _Birds of Australia_, vol. i., pp. 442-45.

[158] Bingley, _Animal Biography_, vol. ii., p. 220.

[159] For full information, see Buckland, _Curiosities of Natural History_, p. 183.

[160] Of the crow (carrion and hooded), Edward says: 'He goes aloft with a crab, and lets it fall upon a stone or a rock chosen for the purpose. If it does not break, he seizes it again, goes up higher, lets it fall, and repeats his operation again and again until his object is accomplished. When a convenient stone is once met with, the birds resort to it for a long time. I myself know a pretty high rock, that has been used by successive generations of crows for about twenty years!' Also, as Handcock says, 'a friend of Dr. Darwin saw on the north coast of Ireland above a hundred crows preying upon mussels, which is not their natural food; each crow took a mussel up into the air, twenty or forty yards high, and let it fall on the stones, and thus breaking the shell, got possession of the animal. Ravens, we are told, often resort to the same contrivance.'

[161] Couch, _Illustrations of Instinct_, pp. 192-93.

[162] _Gleanings_, &c., vol. i., p. 71.

[163] _Ibid._

[164] _Voyage of a Naturalist_, &c., p. 184.

[165] _Orn. Biog._, i., p. 276.

[166] Newton, _Encycl. Brit._, art. 'Birds.'

[167] _Catalogue of Birds_, &c., p. 16.

[168] Gould, _Birds of Australia_, vol. ii., p. 155, where see for further description.

[169] _Animal Biography_, vol. ii., p. 204.

[170] See _Descent of Man_, p. 452 _et seq._

[171] See Newton, _Ency. Brit._, art. 'Birds.'

[172] _Natural Selection_, pp. 232-3.

[173] _Phil. Trans._, vol. lxxviii., p. 221 _et seq._

[174] The young cuckoo is generally hatched first.

[175] Allusion is here made to the fact that the cuckoo lays her eggs at intervals of two or three days, and therefore that if all were incubated by the mother, they would hatch out at different times--a state of things which actually obtains in the case of the American cuckoo, whose nest contains eggs and young at the same time.

[176] It is worth while to observe, as bearing on this theory of the origin of this parasitic habit, that even non-parasitic birds occasionally deposit their eggs in nests of other birds. Thus, Professor A. Newton writes in his admirable essay on 'Birds' in the Encyclopædia Britannica, 'Certain it is that some birds, whether by mistake or stupidity, do not unfrequently lay their eggs in the nests of others. It is within the knowledge of many that pheasants' eggs and partridges' eggs are often laid in the same nest; and it is within the knowledge of the writer that gulls' eggs have been found in the nests of eider-ducks, and _vice versâ_; that a redstart and a pied flycatcher will lay their eggs in the same convenient hole--the forest being rather deficient in such accommodation; that an owl and a duck will resort to the same nest-hole, set up by the scheming woodman for his own advantage; and that the starling, which constantly dispossesses the green woodpecker, sometimes discovers that the rightful heir of the domicile has to be brought up by the intruding tenant.'

[177] _Origin of Species_, p. 215.

[178] Tom. i., p. 130.

[179] See _Birds of India_, i., p. 21; _Passions of Animals_, p. 60; _Fac. Men. des Ani._, tom. ii., p. 183; _Mind in Lower Animals_, vol. ii., p. 96; and _Descent of Man_, p. 74.

[180] _Animal Biography_, vol. ii., p. 173.

[181] _Nature_, xx., p. 266.

[182] Vol. i., p. 216. See also _Descent of Man_, p. 80.

[183] Menault, _Wonders of Instinct_, p. 132.

[184] _Nat. on Amazons_, p. 177; _Anecdotes_, p. 135.

[185] _Gleanings_, vol. ii., p. 96.

[186] _Ibid._, p. 99.

[187] _Nature_, vol. xiii., p. 303.

[188] _Unbeaten Tracks in Japan_, vol. ii, pp. 149-50.

[189] Smiles, _Life of Edward_, pp. 244-6.