Chapter IV: About birds in general

Our friend Jack, having made himself familiar with the peculiarities of the domestic fowls, turned his attention to other species of birds. He noticed particularly those which seemed to possess gentle and confiding natures, such as the sparrows that build upon the shrubs round the house; the martens that take up their abode in boxes which you make for them, and place near the eaves of your dwelling; the swallows that build in the barn, and the cheerful robin that loves to dwell in the apple orchard. All these he observed with care, noticing their modes of building and rearing their young; the food they eat, the cries they uttered, and, in general, their peculiar characteristics.

From these, Jack passed to other birds, and carefully studied them also. At last, he was pretty well acquainted with the whole subject of birds; and now he observed several important things, which I shall present to the attention of my readers.

In the first place, Jack was struck with admiration at the formation of birds. They are designed to raise themselves in the air, and to spend a considerable part of their time in that subtle element. And how wonderfully adapted to this purpose are they! In the first place, a bird must have great strength, and yet great lightness: and how happily are they united! Look at the quill of the wing――how strong, and yet how light! Who could have invented anything more admirably suited to rise on the breeze and cut its way through the air? Is there a human being who could make a single quill, even if the model were placed before him? Not one.

And then look at the bones of the bird. These, instead of being heavy as in quadrupeds, are all hollow. They are therefore a great deal lighter than those of other animals, while they are equally strong. And then, observe the structure of the bird’s skeleton. What a wonderful and ingenious piece of machinery! Look at the wing: how easily it opens and shuts, and thus at once lifts the bird upward, and drives it forward like an arrow in its path. Look at the tail――destined, like the rudder of a ship, to direct its course――and how admirably it is turned this way and that, quick as thought, to guide the aerial voyager even among the intricacies of the forest!

Consider the feathery covering of the bird, designed to present a smooth surface, so as not to cause interruption in passing through the air, and to furnish a coat as impervious to the water as India rubber, yet light as the gossamer. How wonderfully are these objects attained! And now let us reflect upon the wisdom of the Creator, in designing a class of animals destined to soar aloft upon the air, and His power in accomplishing His purposes, as evinced in the structure of birds. How many millions of these beautiful creatures there are in the world! how diversified their structure, habits and instincts! and yet, let it be remembered that man, with all his art, cannot make a feather.

The music of birds is a very curious and interesting phenomenon, not only on account of the admirable variety and sweetness of the songs they produce, but for the strength of their voices. The lowing of the bull, or the roaring of the lion, cannot be heard at a great distance, yet the little thrush can be heard half a mile. If quadrupeds had voices equal to those of birds, in proportion to their size, an elephant could easily be heard across the Atlantic ocean.

The variety in the forms of birds is a subject of great interest. How different is the duck, with its short legs, from the spoonbill, which seems to be walking upon stilts; the common barn-door fowl, with its short neck, from the flamingo, whose neck is almost a yard in length, and not half as thick as your wrist! How different is an ostrich, which will carry a boy upon its back, from the little humming-bird, which seems scarcely larger than a humble-bee!

Who can look forth upon the landscape, and notice the feathered tribes, glancing from tree to tree, and from bush to bush, delighting the eye with their pleasing forms and lovely hues, and the ear with their charming melody, and the heart with that aspect of life and cheerfulness, which they throw over the meadow, forest and field, and not lift up his thoughts to heaven and say, “Oh Lord, how manifold are thy works――in goodness and mercy hast thou made them all!”

But I must not forget to say one thing more about Jack in this chapter. While he was studying the subject of birds, he was very fond of getting young ones, so that he might rear them; he also caught several old ones, which he kept in cages. Now I believe that certain birds may be happy in cages, such as canaries, and many others, that are bred in confinement; but to catch wild birds and shut them up, is treating the poor little creatures very cruelly. I would not, therefore, be thought to commend Jack’s example in this respect.

[To be continued.]

The Deserts of Africa and Asia.

In Africa, as well as Asia, there are immense tracts of land called deserts, which consist of vast plains composed of loose sand. Large portions of these are utterly destitute of vegetation, and sometimes, in crossing them, the traveller sees not a hill, or mountain, or human dwelling, or even a tree or shrub, or blade of grass. All around is a sea of sand, and far as the eye can reach, it is one scene of lifeless solitude and desolation.

These trackless wastes are traversed by caravans, which are companies of travellers usually mounted upon camels. Horses travel in these sands with difficulty. Their feet sink in the soil; they are overcome with heat, and parched with drought. The camel, on the contrary, has a large spongy foot, which does not sink in the sand; he can bear excessive heat, and by a curious contrivance of nature, is enabled to go without water for five or six days. This valuable creature is called the ship of the desert, because it enables the merchants of Asia and Africa to transport their merchandise over the sea of sand, just as a ship carries goods from one part of the world to another, across the briny ocean. It seems really as if Providence had provided this singular animal on purpose to enable mankind to traverse the great deserts which are spread out upon the eastern continent.

The desert of Sahara stretches nearly from the eastern to the western coast of Africa, a distance of almost three thousand miles. Its width is about eight hundred miles. Its whole extent is nearly equal to that of the United States. This vast region, though for the most part a scene of absolute desolation, has a few spots where the water collects in pools, around which some vegetation springs up. These places, which bear a delightful contrast to the surrounding sterility, and cheer the eye of the thirsty, weary traveller, are called _oases_. Here the caravans quench their thirst and repose in the delicious shadow of the trees. The deserts of Arabia are far less extensive, but they are of a similar character to that of Sahara.

It might seem that these inhospitable regions would be deserted by man; but they are not only crossed by companies of travellers who wish to pass from one country to another, but by bands of wandering Arabs, who spend their whole lives upon these deserts. These are, for the most part, desperate robbers. Thus, the lonely desert has its pirates, as well as the lonely sea. These thieves have not only swift camels, but swift horses; and it is amazing to see how rapidly they will speed over the sandy plains. They come upon the traveller almost as suddenly as the hawk that descends from the sky upon its unsuspecting prey, and they disappear almost as suddenly.

It might seem that these inhabitants of the desert would lead a miserable life, and especially that they would often be swallowed up in the terrific sand storms, which sometimes sweep over these wastes. The sand, being loose and dry, is borne upward by the whirling tempest, and is seen driving over the plain, like a terrific thunder-cloud. The experienced traveller sees the coming danger, and prepares himself for it. He throws himself upon the ground, and covers his face so as not to be choked with the dust. The horses and camels, guided by instinct, also put their noses to the earth to prevent being suffocated. If the storm is slight, the party escapes; but sometimes, such immense waves of sand are drifted upon the wind, as to bury the traveller so deeply beneath it, as to make it his winding-sheet forever. Sometimes whole caravans, with their horses and camels, have been in this manner overwhelmed――thus making the waves of the desert as fatal as the waves of the sea.

Yet, despite the terrors of the desert, the Arabs are a lively and cheerful race. On their march, they stop at night; and in their tents, spread beneath the starry canopy, the laugh, the jest and the song go round. There are among them professed story-tellers, who delight the listeners with fanciful tales of enchantment, adventure, and love, or perhaps they repeat, in an animated manner, some fine specimens of Arabic poetry. Thus it is, that mankind, occupying the gloomiest parts of the earth, have amusements. As the steel is made to yield its spark, so the Arab finds pleasure in the desert.

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THE MERRY KNIGHT.――When Sir Henry Marshal, knight and alderman of London, received the honor of knighthood from George II., he fell flat upon the floor. The king was surprised, but on the knight rising up, he facetiously said,――“Your majesty has conferred so much honor upon me, that I was not able to stand up under it.” His majesty ever after called him the merry knight.

Dick Boldhero.