Chapter V: Part 5

The adaptation of colour in Birds to their haunts strikingly tends to their preservation. The small Birds which frequent hedges have backs of a brownish or brownish-green hue; and their bellies are generally whitish, or light-coloured, so as to harmonize with the sky. Thus, they become less visible to the hawk or cat that passes above or below them. The wayfarer across the fields also treads upon the Skylark before he sees it warbling to heaven's gate. The Goldfinch or Thistlefinch passes much of its time among flowers, and is vividly coloured accordingly. The Partridge can hardly be distinguished from the fallow or stubble among which it crouches; and it is considered an accomplishment among sportsmen to have a good eye for finding a Hare sitting. In northern countries the winter dress of the Hares and Ptarmigans is white, to prevent detection among the snows of those inclement regions.

The Song of Birds is popularly explained by the author of a work, entitled, "The Music of Nature," in which he illustrates the vocal machinery of Birds as follows:--"It is difficult to account for so small a creature as a Bird making a tone as loud as some animal a thousand times its size; but a recent discovery shows that in birds the lungs have several openings communicating with corresponding air-bags or cells, which fill the whole cavity of the body from the neck downward, and into which the air passes and repasses in the progress of breathing. This is not all. The very bones are hollow, from which air-pipes are conveyed to the most solid parts of the body, even into the quills and feathers. The air being rarefied by the heat of their body, adds to their levity. By forcing the air out of their body, they can dart down from the greatest heights with astonishing velocity. No doubt the same machinery forms the basis of their vocal powers, and at once resolves the mystery into a natural ordering of parts." This is a very pretty story; but, unfortunately, it is not correct, as already shown.

A correspondent of the "Athenæum," writing in 1866, says:--"He would be a bold man who should say that Birds have no delight in their own songs. I have been led to conclude from experiments which I have made, and from other observations, that certain animals, especially Birds, have not only an ear for fine sounds, but also a preference for the things they see out of respect to fine colours or other pleasing external features. It is chiefly among Birds, when we consider the case of animals, that a taste for ornament and for glittering objects, often very startling and human-like, is to be found. The habits of the Pheasant, Peacock, Turkey, Bird of Paradise, several Birds of the Pigeon and Crow kind, and certain Singing Birds, are evidence. The Australian Satin Bower-Bird is the most remarkable of that class which exhibit taste for beauty or for glittering objects out of themselves--that is, beauty not directly personal; collecting, in fact, little museums of shells, gaudy feathers, shining glass, or bits of coloured cloth or pottery. It will be found with many Birds that fine plumes, a mirror, and an admirer, are not altogether objects devoid of interest.

"Another consideration leading me to the same conclusion, is the fact, that beauty in animals is placed on prominent parts, or on parts which by erection or expansion are easily, and at the pairing season, frequently rendered prominent, such as a crest or tail. A spangle of ruby or emerald does not exist, for instance, on the side under the wing, which is seldom raised, of our domestic poultry. Such jewels are hung where man himself wears his, on the face and forehead, or court attention, like our own crowns, trains, shoulder-knots, breast-knots, painted cheeks, or jewelled ears. I cannot account for the existence of these gaudy ornaments to please man, for nowhere are they more gorgeous than in Birds which live in the depth of the tropical forest, where man is rarely a visitor; I cannot account for them on the principle that they do good to their possessors in the battle for life, because they rather render them conspicuous to their enemies, or coveted by man." But the beauty of these beings glows most brightly at the season of their pairing, and the selection of their mates.

Baron von Tschudi, the Swiss naturalist, has shown the important services of Birds in the destruction of insects. Without Birds, no agriculture or vegetation would be possible. They accomplish in a few months the profitable work of destruction which millions of human hands could not do half so well in as many years; and the sage, therefore, blamed in very severe terms the foolish practice of shooting and destroying Birds, which prevails more especially in Italy, recommending, on the contrary, the process of alluring Birds into gardens and corn-fields. Among the most deserving Birds he counts Swallows, Finches. Titmice, Redtails, &c. The naturalist then cites numerous instances in support of his assertion. In a flower-garden of one of his neighbours three rose-trees had been suddenly covered with about 2,000 tree-lice. At his recommendation a Marsh-Titmouse was located in the garden, which in a few hours consumed the whole brood, and left the roses perfectly clean. A Redtail in a room was observed to catch about 900 flies in an hour. A couple of Night-Swallows have been known to destroy a whole swarm of gnats in fifteen minutes. A pair of Golden-crested Wrens carry insects as food to their nestlings upon an average thirty-six times in an hour. For the protection of orchards and woods Titmice are of invaluable service. They consume, in particular, the eggs of the dangerous pine-spiders. One single female of such spiders frequently lays from 600 to 800 eggs twice in the summer season, while a Titmouse with her young ones consume daily several thousands of them. Wrens, Nuthatches, and Woodpeckers often dexterously fetch from the crevices of tree-bark numbers of insects for their nestlings.

Yet, profitless and wanton Bird-murder is common. The cliffs on the coasts of these islands are the resort of numerous kinds of Sea-Fowl, and these Fowl, we are told, are slaughtered by thousands, not merely for the sake of their feathers, but actually for the mere savage pleasure of killing. What speculation can enter into such a proceeding it may puzzle the reader to imagine; but it seems that the wing feathers of the poor White Gull are now inquired for in the plume-trade, and we are actually told of an order given by a single house for 10,000 of these unhappy Birds. When these facts were stated at the Meeting of the British Association, in August, 1868, at Norwich, a lady stood up boldly in defence of her sex, and declared that they sinned only through ignorance, and would never willingly wear the feathers of a Bird destroyed in the act of feeding its young. That part of the case, therefore, ought to be now in safe hands. In the Isle of Man a law has been passed, called the "Seagull Preservation Act," protecting these Birds by heavy penalties, on the ground of their utility in removing fish offal and guiding fishermen to shoals of fish. At a certain point of our shores a similar protection has been established. A visitor to the South Stack Lighthouse, on the coast of Anglesey, may see prodigious numbers of Sea-Fowl as tame as complete safety can make them. It has been ascertained that in thick weather, when neither light can be distinguished nor signal seen, the incessant scream of these Birds gives the best of all warnings to the mariner of the vicinity of the rock. The noise they make can be heard at a greater distance than the tolling of the great bell; and so valuable was this danger-signal considered, that an order from the Trinity House forbad even the firing of the warning gun, lest the colony of the Sea-Fowl should be disturbed. The signals of the bell and the cannon might be neglected or overpowered, but the Birds were always there and always audible.

It is inferred that Birds possess some notion of power, and of cause and effect, from the various actions which they perform. "Thus," relates Dr. Fleming, "we have seen the Hooded Crow in Zetland, when feeding on small shell-fish, able to break some of the tenderer kinds by means of its bill, aided in some cases by beating them against a stone; but, as some of the larger shells, such as the buckie and the welk, cannot be broken by such means, the Crow employs another method, by which, in consequence of applying foreign power, it accomplishes its object. Seizing the shell with its claws, it mounts up into the air, and then loosing its hold, causes the shell to fall among stones (in preference to the sand, the water, or the soil on the ground), that it may be broken, and give easier access to the contained animal. Should the first attempt fail, a second or third is tried, with this difference, that the Crow rises higher in the air, in order to increase the power of the fall, and more effectually remove the barrier to the contained morsel. On such occasions we have seen a strong Bird remain an apparently inattentive spectator of the process of breaking the shell, but coming to the spot with astonishing keenness when the efforts of its neighbour had been successful, in order to share the spoil. Pennant mentions similar operations performed by Crows on mussels."

The brain of Birds is, in general, large in proportion to the size of the body, and the instinctive powers are very perfect. A few kinds are rather dull and stupid; but the Parrot, Magpie, Raven, and many others, show great vivacity and quickness of intellect. The Raven has a great deal of humour in him. One, a most amusing and mischievous creature, would get into a well-stocked flower-garden, go to the beds where the gardener had sowed a great variety of seeds, with sticks put in the ground with labels, and then he would amuse himself with pulling up every stick, and laying them in heaps of ten or twelve on the path. This used to irritate the old gardener, who drove him away. The Raven knew that he ought not to do it, or he would not have done it. He would soon return to his mischief, and when the gardener again chased him (the old man could not run very fast), the Raven would just keep clear of the rake or the hoe in his hand, dancing before him, and singing as plainly as a Raven could. "Tol de rol de rol! tol de rol de rol!" with all kinds of mimicking gestures.

The signal of danger among Birds seems to be of universal comprehension; because the instant it is uttered we hear the whole flock, though composed of various species, repeat a separate moan, and away they all scuttle into the bushes for safety. The sentinel Birds give the signal, but in some cases they are deceived by false appearances. Dr. Edmonstone, in his "View of the Zetland Isles," relates a very striking illustration of the neglect of the sentinel, in his remarks on the Shag. "Great numbers of this species of the Cormorant are sometimes taken during the night, while asleep on the rocks of easy access; but before they commit themselves to sleep, one or two of the number are appointed to watch. Until these sentinels are secured, it is impossible to make a successful impression on the whole body; to surprise them is, therefore, the first object. With this view, the leader of the expedition creeps cautiously and imperceptibly along the rock, until he gets within a short distance of the watch. He then dips a worsted glove into the sea, and gently throws water in the face of the guard. The unsuspecting Bird, either disliking the impression, or fancying, from what he considers to be a disagreeable state of the weather, that all is quiet and safe, puts his head under his wing and soon falls asleep. His neck is then immediately broken, and the party dispatch as many as they choose."

Addison was a true lover of nature, which he shows in two letters written by him to the Earl of Warwick (afterwards his son-in-law), when that nobleman was very young. "My dear Lord," he writes, "I have employed the whole neighbourhood in looking after Birds'-nests, and not altogether without success. My man found one last night, but it proved a hen's, with fifteen eggs in it, covered with an old broody Duck, which may satisfy your Lordship's curiosity a little; though I am afraid the eggs will be of little use to us. This morning I have news brought me of a nest that has abundance of little eggs, streaked with red and blue veins, that, by the description they give me, must make a very beautiful figure in a string. My neighbours are very much divided in their opinions upon them: some say they are a Skylark's; others will have them to be a Canary-Bird's; but I am much mistaken in the colour and turn of the eggs if they are not full of Tomtit's." Again, Addison writes:--"Since I am so near your Lordship, methinks, after having passed the day amid more severe studies, you may often take a trip hither and relax yourself with these little curiosities of nature. I assure you no less a man than Cicero commends the two great friends of his age, Scipio and Lælius, for entertaining themselves at their country-house, which stood on the sea-shore, with picking up cockle-shells, and looking after Birds'-nests."

In another letter Addison writes:--"The business of this is to invite you to a concert of music which I have found out in a neighbouring wood. It begins precisely at six in the evening, and consists of a Blackbird, a Thrush, a Robin-Redbreast, and a Bullfinch. There is a Lark, that, by way of overture, sings and mounts till she is almost out of hearing; and afterwards, falling down leisurely, drops to the ground as soon as she has ended her song. The whole is concluded by a Nightingale, that has a much better voice than Mrs. Tofts, and something of the Italian manner in her divisions. If your Lordship will honour me with your company, I will promise to entertain you with much better music, and more agreeable scenes, than you ever met with at the Opera; and will conclude with a charming description of a Nightingale out of our friend Virgil:--

"'So close, in poplar shades, her children gone,
The mother Nightingale laments alone;
Whose nest some prying churl had found, and thence
By stealth convey'd the unfeathered innocence:
But she supplies the night with mournful strains,
And melancholy music fills the plains.'"

BIRDS' EGGS AND NESTS.

The Eggs of Birds are variously tinted and mottled, and hence they become objects of interest to the collector. In this diversity of colour nature has, doubtless, some final object in view; and though not in every instance, yet in many, we can certainly see a design in the adaptation of the colours to the purpose of concealment, according to the habits of the various classes of Birds. Thus, as a general rule, the Eggs of Birds which have their nests in dark holes, or which construct nests that almost completely exclude the light, are white; as is also the case with those Birds that constantly sit on their Eggs, or leave them only for a short time during the night. Eggs of a light blue or light green tint will also be found in nests that are otherwise well concealed; while, on the other hand, a great proportion of those nests that are in exposed situations have Eggs varying in tints and spots in a remarkable degree, corresponding with the colours of external objects in their immediate neighbourhood. Thus, a dull green colour is common in most gallinaceous Birds that form their nests in grass, and in aquatic Birds among green hedges; a bright green colour is prevalent among Birds that nestle among trees and bushes; and a brown mottled colour is found in those Eggs that are deposited among furze, heath, shingle, and grey rocks and stones.

Birds'-nesting, we need hardly remark, is a favourite pursuit of boyhood; but, in some cases, its attractions have induced young persons to take up more important branches of natural history, or the collection, systematic arrangement, and comparison of Birds' Eggs, which is, in scientific study, termed Oology; and as the study of Birds cannot be considered complete until they are known in every stage, it forms a branch of Ornithology. In this case Birds'-nesting has an useful object; but many persons are content to acquire collections of Eggs without troubling themselves about the Birds which have laid them.

The late Mr. John Wolley, M.A., was one of the leading authorities upon the subject of European Ornithology, and was one of a number of University men, who, about twelve years ago, established the ornithological journal called "The Ibis," and who visited far-distant and unexplored regions, where they might hope to discover strange Birds and unknown Eggs. For several years Algiers and Tunis were their favourite resorts, and the meeting-places of many of our rarer Birds were hunted up in these countries, even so far as the Desert of the Great Sahara. Others preferred the New World as the scene of their labours, and collected long series of specimens in the highland of Guatemala, and the tropical forests of Belize. Mr. Wolley, however, confined his attention principally to the northern parts of Europe--that region being the breeding-quarters of a large number of Birds which are only known in this country as winter visitants. In order to be at his collecting-station at Muonioniska, on the frontier of Finnish Lapland, at the earliest commencement of the breeding-season, Mr. Wolley frequently passed the whole winter in that remote region. But the rigour of the climate under the Arctic Circle contributed to bring on a malady which terminated fatally in November, 1859.

Upon the decease of Mr. Wolley, his large collection of Birds' Eggs, in accordance with his last wishes, became the property of his friend, Mr. Alfred Newton, who is publishing a Catalogue of Mr. Wolley's Egg Cabinet, with notes from the deceased naturalist's journals. The first part contains the Eggs of Birds of Prey (_Accipitres_), recognisable at once by their strongly-hooked bill, formed to assist them in tearing their prey, and their large feet and sharpened claws, which aid them to grasp it. They are divisible into two very distinct groups--the diurnal Birds of Prey, consisting of the Hawks, Vultures, and Eagles; and the nocturnal Birds of Prey, or Owls. In the latter the Eggs are invariably colourless; in the former they are often strongly marked, and present some of the most beautiful objects in the whole series of Birds' Eggs.

In the most recently published list of European birds fifty-two species of birds of prey are given as occurring more or less frequently within the limits of our continent. Of the three generally-recognised species of European Vultures two are well represented, as regards their eggs, in the Wolleyan series. A few years ago the nesting of all these birds was utterly unknown to naturalists, and it was mainly through the exertions of Mr. Wolley and his friends that specimens first reached our collectors' cabinets. Here were found both the Egyptian Vulture and the Griffon breeding abundantly in the Eastern Atlas in 1857; and the eyries of these birds have since been visited by other collectors in the same country. The Eggs of the former of these Vultures are remarkable for their deep and rich coloration. The productions of the Griffon are not nearly so handsome, and are occasionally altogether destitute of markings. Of the Eagles of Europe the series of Eggs is very full, especially of the two well-known British species--the Golden Eagle and Sea Eagle. The Golden or Mountain Eagle is even now-a-days much more common in the remote parts of the British islands than is usually supposed to be the case. In 1852 Mr. Wolley was acquainted with five nests of this bird in various parts of Scotland, and there were undoubtedly at least as many more of which he did not learn the particulars. The eyrie is usually placed in some mountainous district, on the ledge of some "warm-looking" rock, well clothed with vegetation, and often by no means wild or exposed. Not unfrequently, under proper guidance, one can walk into the nest almost without climbing. Mr. Newton gives a very entertaining account of the taking of a pair of eggs from a nest in Argyllshire in 1861, where this seems to have been the case. In the whole ascent there was only one "ticklish place," where it was necessary to go sideways on a narrow ledge round some rocks. The Sea Eagle, on the other hand, generally breeds on the high cliffs upon the coast, often selecting the most inaccessible position for its eyrie. Sometimes, however, it will choose an island in the middle of an inland loch, and in such case places its nest upon the ground or in a tree.

Mr. Wolley's well-written notes of his adventures in quest of both these Eagles, as also those relating to the other rapacious birds, will be read with much interest; as will also the details concerning the nesting-habits of many of the rarer species of European birds, several of which, such as the Rough-legged Buzzard and the Lapp Owl, were first tracked to their breeding-quarters in the remotest wilds of Scandinavia by this indefatigable naturalist.[10]

Of large Eggs we are most familiar with those of the Ostrich, of which Mr. Burchell, when in Africa, found twenty-five Eggs in a hollow scratched in the sand, six feet in diameter, surrounded by a trench, but without grass, leaves, or sticks, as in the nests of other birds. In the trench were nine more Eggs, intended, as the Hottentots observed, as the first food of the twenty-five young Ostriches. Between sixty and seventy Eggs have been found in one nest; each is equal to twenty-four Eggs of the domestic hen, and holds five pints and a quarter of liquid. The shells are dirty white. The Hottentots string them together as belts, or garlands, and they are frequently mounted as cups. One Ostrich Egg is a sufficient meal for three persons. The Egg is cooked over the fire without either pot or water, the shell answering the purpose of the first, and the liquid nature of its contents that of the other.

Less familiar to the reader are the gigantic Eggs of the Epyornis, a bird which formerly lived in Madagascar. One of these Eggs contains the substance of 140 hens' Eggs. Mr. Geoffroy St. Hilaire describes some portions of an Egg of the Epyornis which show the Egg to have been of such a size as to be capable of containing about ten English quarts; that in the Museum of the Jardin des Plantes can only contain 8-3/4 quarts. Mr. Strickland, in some notices of the Dodo and its kindred, published in 1849, says that in the previous year a Mr. Dumarele, a French merchant at Bourbon, saw at Port Leven, Madagascar, an enormous Egg which held "_thirteen wine quart bottles of fluid_." The natives stated that the Egg was found in the jungle, and "that such Eggs were _very, very rarely_ met with."

A word or two about the nests of such gigantic birds. Captain Cook found, on an island near the north-east coast of New Holland, a nest "of a most enormous size. It was built with sticks upon the ground, and was no less than six-and-twenty feet in circumference, and two feet eight inches high." (Kerr's "Collection of Voyages and Travels," xiii., 318.) Captain Flinders found two similar nests on the south coast of New Holland, in King George's Bay. In his "Voyage," &c., London, 1818, he says, "They were built upon the ground, from which they rose above two feet, and were of vast circumference and great interior capacity; the branches of trees and other matter of which each nest was composed being enough to fill a cart."

Among the varieties of Birds'-nests are some very curious homes, of which we have but space to notice a few. The pendulous nest of the Indian Baya-bird is usually formed of the fibres of the palmyra, the cocoa-nut palm, and wild date of India, sometimes mixed with grass, neatly interlaced, and very strongly made. It consists of only one circular chamber, with a long tubular passage leading to it, and is suspended from a tree, preferred if overhanging water. The natives of India say the Baya lights up its nest with fire-flies. The bird lays from four to six white eggs. Bayas are of a very social disposition: numbers build on the same tree, or neighbouring trees, and singing in concert during the breeding season. The Baya is very docile, and taught to fly off the finger and return again; to dart after a ring or small coin, dropped into a deep well, and catch it before it reaches the water; to fetch and carry, and perform similar tricks.

The nest of the brilliant Golden-banded Oriole is a hammock of twisted fibrous substances, and is suspended in a low shrub, so as to swing to the breeze. The twine-like fibres of which it is woven are the filaments of the gigantic palm. The threads break away from the leaf, and hang like fringe to the magnificent foliage.

The Tailor-birds are the best nest-builders of all the feathered tribes. They interweave their nests between the twigs and branches of shrubs, or suspend the nests from them; and some of these birds have exercised arts from the creation which man has found of the greatest benefit to him since he discovered them. These birds, indeed, may be called the inventors of the several arts of the weaver, the sempstress, and the tailor; whence some of them have been denominated Weaver and Tailor Birds. The nests of the latter are, however, most remarkable. India produces several species of Tailor-birds that sew together leaves for the protection of their eggs and nestlings from the voracity of serpents and apes. They generally select the end of a branch or twig, and sew with cotton, thread, and fibres. Colonel Sykes has seen some in which the thread was literally knotted at the end. The inside of these nests is lined usually with down and cotton.

Tailor-birds are not confined to India or tropical countries. Italy can boast a species which exercises the same art. Mr. Gould has a specimen of this bird in his possession, and the Zoological Society have a nest in their Museum. This little bird, a species of the genus _sylvia_, in summer and autumn frequents marshes; but in the spring it seeks the meadows and corn-fields, in which, at that season, the marshes being bare of the sedges which cover them in summer, it is compelled to construct its nest in tussocks of grass on the brinks of ditches; but the leaves of these being weak, easily split, so that it is difficult for our little sempstresses to unite them, and so form the skeleton of the fabric. From this and other circumstances, the spring nests of these birds differ so widely from those made in the autumn that it seems next to impossible that both should be the work of the same artisan. The latter are constructed in a thick bunch of sedge or reed: they are shaped like a pear, being dilated below and narrow above, so as to leave an aperture sufficient for the ingress and egress of the bird. The greatest horizontal diameter of the nest is about two inches and a half, and the vertical is five inches.

The most wonderful thing in the construction of these nests is the method to which the little bird has recourse to keep united the living leaves of which it is composed. The sole in the weaving, more or less delicate, of the materials, forms the principle adopted by other birds to bind together the walls of their nests; but this sylvia is no weaver, for the leaves of the sedges or reeds are united by real stitches. In the edge of each leaf she makes, probably with her beak, minute apertures, through which she contrives to pass, perhaps by means of the same organ, one or more cords formed of spiders' web, particularly that of their egg-pouches. Those threads are not very long, and are sufficient to pass two or three times from one leaf to another. They are of unequal thickness, and have knots here and there, which, in some places, divide into two or three branches.

This is the manner in which the exterior of the nest is formed: the interior consists mainly of down, chiefly from plants, a little spiders' web being intermixed, which helps to keep the other substances together. The upper part and sides of the nest, that is, the external and internal, are in immediate contact; but in the lower part a greater space intervenes, filled with the slender foliage of grasses, and other materials, which render soft and warm the bed on which the eggs are to repose. This little bird feeds on insects. Its flight is rectilinear, but consists of many curves, with the concavity upwards. These curves equal in number the strokes of the wing, and at every stroke its whistle is heard, the intervals of which correspond with the rapidity of its flight.

The Australian Bower-bird, as its name implies, builds its nest like an arbour or bower, with twigs: in the British Museum are two specimens, each decorated--one with bones and fresh-water shells, and the other with feathers and land-shells; remarkable instances of taste for ornament already referred to in a preceding page. The Satin or Bower-bird is described by settlers in Australia as "a very troublesome rascal," which besets gardens; if once allowed to make a lodgment there it is very troublesome to get rid of him; he signalizes his arrival by pulling up, in his restless fussy way, everything in the garden that he can tug out of the ground, even to the little sticks to mark the site of seeds. A settler had formed a garden in the bush; there was no enclosure of the kind for miles in any direction: a flock of Bower-birds came; he got his gun and shot two or three; the flock went off, and he never saw another bird of the kind.

The Cape Swallows build nests which show extraordinary instinct allied to reason. A pair of these built their nest on the outside of a house at Cape Town against the angle formed by the wall and the board which supported the eaves. The whole of this nest was covered in, and it was furnished with a long neck or passage, through which the birds passed in and out. It resembled a longitudinal section of a Florence oil flask. This nest having crumbled away after the young birds had quitted it, the same pair, or another of the same species, built on the old foundation again. But this time an improvement was observable in the plan of it that can hardly be referred to the dictates of mere instinct. The body of the nest was of the same shape as before, but instead of a single passage it was furnished with one at each side, running along the angle of the roof; and on watching the birds, they were seen invariably to go in at one passage and come out at the other. Besides saving themselves the trouble of turning in the nest and disturbing, perhaps, its interior arrangement, they were guarded by this contrivance against a surprise by serpents, which frequently creep up along the wall, or descend from the thatch, and devour both the mother and her brood.

Dr. Livingstone relates a very curious instance of "Bird Confinement" under very strange circumstances. In passing through Mopane country, in South Africa, his men caught a great number of the birds called _Korwé_ in their breeding-places, which were holes in the mopane trees. They passed the nest of a Korwé just ready for the female to enter; the orifice was plastered on both sides, but a space was left of a heart shape, and exactly the size of the bird's body. The hole in the tree was in every case found to be prolonged some distance upwards above the opening, and thither the Korwé always fled to escape being caught. In another nest that was found, one white egg, much like that of a pigeon, was laid, and the bird dropped another when captured: she had four besides in the ovarium. Dr. Livingstone first saw this bird at Kolenbeng in the forest: he saw a slit only, about half an inch wide and three or four inches long, in a slight hollow of a tree; a native broke the clay which surrounded the slit, put his arm into the hole, and brought out a red-beaked Hornbill, which he killed. He told Dr. Livingstone that when the female enters her nest she submits to a real confinement. The male plasters up the entrance, leaving only a narrow slit by which to feed his mate, and which exactly suits the form of his beak. The female makes a nest of her own feathers, lays her eggs, hatches them, and remains with the young till they are fully fledged. During all this time, which is stated to be two or three months, the male continues to feed her and the young family. The prisoner generally becomes quite fat, and is esteemed a very dainty morsel by the natives; while the poor slave of a husband gets so lean that, on the sudden lowering of the temperature, which sometimes happens after a fall of rain, he is benumbed, falls down, and dies.

Dr. Livingstone, on passing the same tree at Kolenbeng about eight days afterwards, found the hole plastered up again, as if, in the short time that had elapsed, the disconsolate bird-husband had procured another wife. Dr. L. saw a nest with the plastering not quite finished, and others completed; he also received elsewhere, besides Kolobeng, the same account that the bird comes forth when the young are fully-fledged, at the period when the corn is ripe; indeed, her appearance abroad with her young is one of the signs they have for knowing when it ought to be so: the time is between two and three months. She is said sometimes to hatch two eggs, and, when the young of these are full-fledged, the other two are just out of the egg-shells: she then leaves the nest with the two elder, the orifice is again plastered up, and both male and female attend to the wants of the young.

There is a specimen of a nest in the Gardens of the Zoological Society, which merits description, besides that of the Bower-bird. Such is the nest of the Brush Turkey, which appears more like a small haystack than an ordinary nest, and the methodical manner in which it is constructed is thus described:--Tracing a circle of considerable radius, the birds begin to travel round it, continually grasping with their huge feet the leaves and grasses and dead twigs which are lying about, and flinging them inwards towards the centre. Each time that they complete their round, they narrow their circle, so that in a short time they clear away a circular belt, having in its centre a low irregular mass. By repeating the same process, however, they decrease the diameter of the mound as they increase its height, and at last a large and rudely conical mound is formed.

In this nest as many as a bushel of eggs are deposited, at regular intervals, long end downwards. The leaves form a fermenting mass, which relieves the mother of the necessity of setting upon them. The male, however, has to regulate the temperature of the mass, which would otherwise get too hot. This he does by making a central ventilating shaft, which carries off the superfluous heat; and, lest the temperature should fall too low, he is constantly engaged in covering and uncovering the eggs in order to hit the exact temperature to be applied until the egg is warmed into life.

FOOTNOTE:

[10] Abridged from the "Saturday Review."

THE EPICURE'S ORTOLAN.

We have allotted this bird to the epicure, because it is rarely heard of but in association with his luxurious table. Mr. Beckford describes the Ortolans among the delicacies which he saw in the kitchen of the monastery of Batalha as "lumps of celestial fatness."

Ortolan is the French and English names for a species of _Fringillidæ_ (Finches). It is the _Hortulanus_ of Gesner and other naturalists; _Miliaria pinguescens_ of Frisch; _Emberiza Hortulana_ of Linnæus; _Ortolano_ of the Italians generally; _Tordino Berluccio_ of the Venetians; _Garton Ammer_ and _Fetammer_ of the Germans; and _Gerste Keneu_ of the Netherlanders. This wide dispersion on the Continent bespeaks the pet character of the bird. Montagu terms it the Green-headed Bunting.

The French have a fanciful derivation of the name: they say it is from the Italian word for gardener, which is from the Latin _hortus_, garden; because, according to Menage, in Italy, where the bird is common, it is quite at home in the hedges of gardens.

The male bird has the throat, circle round the eyes, and a narrow band springing from the angle of the bill, yellow; head and neck grey, with a tinge of olive, and small brown spots; feathers black, edged with red; breast, belly, and abdomen, reddish grey, the feathers terminated with ash-colour; tail blackish, two external feathers, in part white; length rather more than six inches. There are, also, varieties marked white, green, blackish, and entirely black. The nest, which is constructed of fibres of plants and leaves, is frequently found on the ground in corn-fields, and sometimes in hedges and bushes.

The Ortolan is not famed for its song, which is, however, soft and sweet. Like the Nightingale, to which it has other points of resemblance, the Ortolan sings after, as well as before sunset. It was this bird that Varro, the lyric poet, called his companion by night and day.

The south of Europe may be considered the summer and autumnal head-quarters of the Ortolan, though it is a summer visitor in the central and northern parts. In Italy it is said to be common by Temminck and others. The Prince of Musignano states it to be found in the Sabine mountains; adding that it rarely flies in the plains of Rome, but is frequent in Tuscany. Lapland, Russia, Denmark. Sweden, and Norway, are among the countries visited by it. In the British Isles it seems only entitled to rank as an autumnal visitor, but it may occur more frequently than is generally supposed; for, especially to an unpractised eye, it might be mistaken for the Yellow Hammer, and in some states of plumage for other Buntings. It has been taken in the neighbourhood of London. In 1837 there was a live specimen in an aviary of the Zoological Society in Regent's-park; and many Ortolans are sent alive to the London market from Prussia. There is, however, some consolation for the rarity of the Ortolan in England. It is approached in delicacy by our Wheatear, which is termed the _English Ortolan_. Hence it has been pursued as a delicate morsel throughout all its island haunts. Bewick captured it at sea, off the coast of Yorkshire, in May, 1822. Every spring and autumn it may be observed at Gibraltar, on its migration. Mr. Strickland saw it at Smyrna in April. North Africa is its winter residence. Colonel Sykes notes it in his catalogue of the birds of the Deccan.

Ortolans are solitary birds; they fly in pairs, rarely three together, and never in flocks. They are taken in traps from March or April to September, when they are often poor and thin; but if fed with plenty of millet-seed and other grain, they become sheer lumps of fat, and delicious morsels. They are fattened thus in large establishments in the south of Europe; Mr. Gould states this to be effected in Italy, and the south of France, in dark rooms; and the Prince of Musignano, having described the process, adds the relishing words. "Carne exquisita."

The fattening process in Italy is one of great refinement in the manner of feeding. It is the fat of the Ortolan which is so delicious; but it has a peculiar habit of feeding which is opposed to the rapid fattening, this is, it feeds only at the rising of the sun. Yet this peculiarity has not proved an insurmountable obstacle to the Italian gourmands. The Ortolans are placed in a dark chamber, perfectly dark, with only one aperture in the wall. The food is scattered over the floor of the chamber. At a certain hour in the morning the keeper of the birds places a lantern in the orifice of the wall; when the dim light thrown from the lantern on the floor of the apartment induces the Ortolans to believe that the sun is about to rise, and they greedily consume the food upon the floor. More food is now scattered over it, and the lantern is withdrawn.

The Ortolans, rather surprised at the shortness of the day, think it their duty to fall asleep, as night has spread her sable mantle round them. During sleep, little of the food being expended in the production of force, most of it goes to the formation of muscle and fat. After they have been allowed to repose for one or two hours, in order to complete the digestion of the food taken, their keeper again exhibits the lantern through the aperture. The "rising sun" a second time illumines the apartment, and the birds, awaking from their slumber, apply themselves voraciously to the food on the floor; after having discussed which, they are again enveloped in darkness. Thus the sun is made to shed its rising rays into the chamber floor four or five times every day, and as many nights following. The Ortolans thus treated become like little balls of fat in a few days. This not uninteresting process has been detailed by Dr. Lyon Playfair to the Royal Agricultural Society. It may, probably, be applied to purposes with less luxurious objects than fattening Ortolans.

Notwithstanding its delicacy, the Ortolan fattens very fast; and it is this lump of fatness that is its merit, and has sometimes caused it to be preferred to the Becafico. According to Buffon, the Greeks and Romans understood fattening the Ortolan upon millet. But a lively French commentator doubts this statement: he maintains that had the ancients known the Ortolan, they would have deified it, and built altars to it upon Mount Hymettus and the Saniculum; adding, did they not deify the horse of Caligula, which was certainly not worth an Ortolan? and Caligula himself, who was not worth so much as his horse? However, this dispute belongs to the "classics of the table."

The Ortolan is considered sufficiently fat when it is a handful, and is judged by feeling it, and not by appearance. It should not be killed with violence, like other birds; this might crush and bruise the delicate flesh, and spoil the _coup-d'oeil_, to avoid which it is recommended to plunge the head of the Ortolan into a glass of brandy. The culinary instruction is as follows: having picked the bird of its feathers, singe it with the flame of paper or spirits of wine; cut off the beak and ends of the feet; do not draw it; put it into a paper case soaked in olive oil, and broil it over a slow fire of slack cinders, like that required for a pigeon _à la crapaudine_; in a few minutes the Ortolan will swim in its own fat, and will be cooked. Some gourmands wrap each bird in a vine-leaf.

A gourmand will take an Ortolan by the legs and craunch it in delicious mouthfuls, so as absolutely to lose none of it. More delicate feeders cut the bird into quarters, and lay aside the gizzard; the rest may be eaten, even to the bones, which are sufficiently tender for the most delicate mouth to masticate without inconvenience.

On the Continent, Ortolans are packed in tin boxes for exportation. They may be bought in London for half-a-crown a-piece. A few poulterers import Ortolans in considerable numbers, and some have acquired the art of fattening these birds.[11] Alexis Soyer put into the hundred guinea dish which he prepared for the royal table at the grand banquet at York, in 1850, five pounds worth of Ortolans, which were obtained from Belgium.

FOOTNOTE:

[11] The Ortolan figures in a curious anecdote of individual epicurism in the last century. A gentleman of Gloucestershire had one son, whom he sent abroad to make the grand tour of the Continent, where he paid more attention to the cookery of nations, and luxurious living, than anything else. Before his return his father died and left him a large fortune. He now looked over his note-book to discover where the most exquisite dishes were to be had, and the best cooks obtained. Every servant in his house was a cook; his butler, footman, coachman, and grooms--all were cooks. He had also three Italian cooks--one from Florence, another from Vienna, and another from Viterbo--for dressing one Florentine dish. He had a messenger constantly on the road between Brittany and London to bring the eggs of a certain kind of plover found in the former country. This prodigal was known to eat a single dinner at the expense of 70_l._, though there were but two dishes. In nine years he found himself getting poor, and this made him melancholy. When totally ruined, having spent 150,000_l._, a friend one day gave him a guinea to keep him from starving, and he was found in a garret next day _broiling an Ortolan_, for which he had paid a portion of the alms.

TALK ABOUT TOUCANS.

The Toucans, a family of climbing-birds of tropical America, appear to have been known in Europe by the length and great size of their bills, long before the birds themselves found their way to England. Belon, in 1555, described the bill of one of the family as half a foot long, large as a child's arm, pointed, and black at the tip, white elsewhere, notched on the edges, hollow within, and so finely delicate as to be transparent and thin as parchment; and its beauty caused it to be kept in the cabinets of the curious. For more than a century after Belon's work, the birds themselves had not been seen in England; for, in the _Museum Tradescantianum_, the standard collection of the time, and which, from the list of contributors, appears to have been the great receptacle for all curiosities, we read of an "Azacari (or Toucan) of Brazil; has his beak four inches long, almost two thick, like a Turk's sword" (A.D. 1656). From this description Tradescant knew the nature of the bird, if he had not seen it.

Mr. Swainson states, that the enormous bills give to these birds a most singular and uncouth appearance. Their feet are formed like those of the parrot, more for grasping than climbing; and as they live among trees, and proceed by hopping from branch to branch, their grasping feature is particularly adapted for such habits. They live retired in the deep forests, mostly in small companies. Their flight is strait and laborious, but not graceful; while their movements, as they glide rather than hop from branch to branch, are elegant.

Mr. Gould, in his grand Monograph of the Toucans, or _Ramphastidæ_, remarks, that it was only within a few years of the time of Linnæus that actual specimens of the Toucan had been received in Europe. The beaks, however, of these birds, regarded as curiosities, had occasionally found their way to our shores, and had occasioned some curious conjectures. The earliest shape resembled a Turkish scimitar.

The Toucans (a word derived from their Brazilian name, _Taca, Tucà_) received from Linnæus the title of _Ramphastos_, in allusion to the great volume of the beak ([Greek: ramphos]--Ramphos), a family (_Ramphastidæ_). In some respects, indeed, they resemble the Hornbills in the development of the beak. The Toucans may be said to represent in America the Hornbills in India and Africa. Large as is the beak of the Toucan compared with the size of the body, it is in reality very light. Its outer sheathing is somewhat elastic, very thin, smooth, and semi-transparent; and the interior consists of a maze of delicate cells, throughout which the olfactory nerves are multitudinously distributed. The nostrils are basal, the edges of each mandible are serrated, and the colouring of the whole beak is bright, rich, and often relieved by contrasted markings. But these tints begin to fade after death, and become ultimately dissipated. The eyes are surrounded by a considerable space of naked skin, often very richly tinted. The tongue is very long, slender, horizontally flattened, pointed, and, except at its base, horny; it is fringed or feathered along each side. The wings are short, concave, and comparatively feeble.

The tail is variable, equal and squared; it is remarkable for the facility with which it can be retroverted or turned up, so as to lie upon the back. This peculiarity results from a modification of structure in the caudal vertebræ, which enables the tail to turn with a jerk by the action of certain muscles, as if it were fixed on a hinge put into action by means of a spring. When the retroversion is accomplished, the muscles which caused it become passive, and offer no resistance to their antagonists, which restore the tail to its ordinary direction. When they sleep they puff out their plumage, they retrovert the tail over the back, draw the head between the shoulders; the bill begins to turn over the right shoulder, and becomes at last buried in the plumage of the back; at the same time the pinions of the wings droop, and conceal the feet. The bird now resembles an oval ball of puffed-up feathers, and is well protected against the cold.

Toucans utter, from time to time, harsh, clattering, and discordant cries. "Some," says Mr. Gould, "frequent the humid woods of the temperate regions, while others resort to comparatively colder districts, and dwell at an elevation of from six to ten thousand feet. Those inhabiting the lofty regions are generically different from those residing in the low lands, and are clothed in a more thick and sombre-coloured plumage. All the members of the Hill-Toucans are distinguished by their bills being strong, heavy, and hard, when compared with those of the true Toucans and Araçaris, all of which have their bills of a more delicate structure, and in several species so thin and elastic on the sides as to be compressible between the fingers." Their food in a state of nature consists of fruit, eggs, and nestling birds; to which, in domestication, are added small birds, mice, caterpillars, and raw flesh. They incubate in the hollows of gigantic trees.

Faber was told by Fryer, Alaysa, and other Spaniards who had lived long in America, and also by the Indians, that the Toucan even hews out holes in trees, in which to nidify; and Oviedo adds, that it is from this habit of chipping the trees that the bird is called by the Spaniards _Carpintero_, and by the Brazilians _Tacataca_, in imitation, apparently, of the sound it thus makes.

The larger feed upon bananas and other succulent plants; the smaller upon the smaller fruits and berries. Prince Maximilian de Wied states, that in Brazil he found only the remains of fruits in their stomachs, and adds, that they make sad havoc among plantations of fruit-trees. He was informed, however, that they steal and eat birds, but never himself saw them in the act. They abound in the vast forests, and are killed in great number in the cooler season in the year for the purposes of the table. In their manners the Toucans resemble the Crow tribe, and especially the Magpies: like them, they are very troublesome to the birds of prey, particularly to the Owls, which they surround, making a great noise, all the while jerking their tails upwards and downwards. Their feathers, especially from their yellow breasts, are used by the Indians for personal decoration.

Azara states that they attack even the solid nests of the white ants, when the clay of which their nests are formed becomes moistened with the rain; they break them up with their beaks, so as to obtain the young ants and their eggs; and during the breeding season the Toucan feeds upon nothing else; during the rest of the year he subsists upon fruit, insects, and the buds of trees.