ORDER PICARIÆFAMILY CYPSELIDÆTHE SWIFTCÝPSELUS ÁPUSGeneral plumage sooty brown; chin greyish white; tarsi feathered; bill feet, and claws, shining black. Length eight inches; width seventeen inches. Eggs pure white.The Swift is, perhaps, the strongest and swiftest, not merely of the Swallow tribe, but of all birds; hence a voyage from Southern Africa[16]to England is performed without overtaxing its strength. It stands in need of no rest after this prodigious flight, but immediately on its arrival starts with a right good will on its pursuit of food, as if its journey had been but a pleasant course of training for its daily vocation. With respect to temperature, however, its powers of endurance are limited; it never proceeds far northwards, and occasionally even suffers from unseasonably severe weather in the temperate climates where it fixes its summer residence. Mr. F. Smith, of the British Museum, related in theZoologist,[17]that, at Deal, on the eighth of July, 1856, after a mild but wet day, the temperature suddenly fell till it became disagreeably cold. The Swifts were sensibly affected by the atmospheric change; they flew unsteadily, fluttered against the walls of the houses, and some even flew into open windows. 'Whilst observing these occurrences', he says, 'a girl came to the door to ask me if I wanted to buy a bat; she had heard, she told me, that I bought all kinds of bugs, and her mother thought I might want a bat. On her producing it, I was astonished to find it was a poor benumbed Swift. The girl told me they were dropping down in the streets, and the boys were killing all the bats; the church, she said, was covered with them. Off I started to witness this strange sight and slaughter. True enough; the children were charging them everywhere,and on arriving at the church in Lower Street I was astonished to see the poor birds hanging in clusters from the eaves and cornices; some clusters were at least two feet in length, and, at intervals, benumbed individuals dropped from the outside of the clusters. Many hundreds of the poor birds fell victims to the ruthless ignorance of the children.' Being so susceptible of cold, the Swift does not visit us until summer may be considered to have completely set in. In the south it is generally seen towards the end of April, but it generally brings up the rear of the migratory birds by making its first appearance in the first or second week in May, in the north.Early in August it makes itself, for a few days, more than ever conspicuous by its wheeling flights around the buildings which contain its nest, and then suddenly disappears. At this period, too, its note is more frequently heard than during any other part of its visit, and in this respect it is peculiar. As a general rule, birds cease their song partially, if not entirely, when their eggs are hatched. The new care of providing for the wants of a brood occupies their time too much to allow leisure for musical performance, so that with the exception of their call-notes, and their cries of alarm or defiance, they are for a season mute. An early riser, and late in retiring to roost, the Swift is always on the wing. Thus, whether hunting on his own account or on behalf of his mate and nestlings, his employment is unvaried, and the same amount of time is always at his disposal for exercising his vocal powers. These are not great; he has no roundelay; he neither warbles nor carols; he does not even twitter. His whole melody is a scream, unmusical but most joyous; a squeak would be a better name, but that, instead of conveying a notion that it results from pain, it is full of rollicking delight. Some compare it to the noise made by the sharpening of a saw; to me it seems such an expression of pent-up joy as little children would make if unexpectedly released from school, furnished with wings, and flung up into the air for a game of hide-and-seek among the clouds. Such soarings aloft, such chasings round the pinnacles of the church-tower and the gables of the farmhouses, no wonder that they cannot contain themselves for joy. Every day brings its picnic or village feast, with no weariness or depression on the morrow.The nest of the Swift is constructed of any scraps that the bird may chance to find floating in the air, or brought to it by the wind, for it literally never perches on the ground, whence it rises with difficulty. These are rudely pressed together in any convenient aperture or moulding in a building, and cemented together by some glutinous secretion from the bird's mouth. Two eggs are laid, and the young, as a matter of necessity, remain in the nest until quite fledged.Another name for the Swift is Black Martin, and in heraldryit is familiarly known as the Martlet, the figure of which is a device of frequent occurrence in heraldic coats of arms, and denotes that the original wearer of the distinction served as a crusader pilgrim. In Arabia it is still known by the name of Hadji, or Pilgrim, to denote its migratory habits.[1]Livingstone mentions his having seen in the plains north of Kuruman a flock of Swifts, computed to contain upwards of 4,000 individuals.[2]September, 1856, p. 5249.FAMILY CAPRIMULGIDÆTHE NIGHTJARCAPRIMÚLGUS EUROP['Æ]USGeneral plumage ash-grey, spotted and barred with black, brown and reddish brown; first three primaries with a large white patch, on the inner web; two outer tail-feathers on each side tipped with white. Length ten inches and a quarter; breadth twenty-two inches. Eggs whitish, beautifully marbled with brown and ash.This bird used to be described as a nocturnal robber who finds his way into the goat-pens, sucks the dugs of the goats, poisoning them to such an extent that the animals themselves are blinded, and their udders waste away. This fable we notice in order to account for the strange name Goatsucker, by which it was formerly so well known. The bird has, indeed, strangely enough, been known all over Europe by an equivalent for this name from the earliest times. The bird itself is perfectly inoffensive, singular in form and habits, though rarely seen alive near enough for its peculiarities of form and colour to be observed. Its note, however, is familiar enough to persons who are in the habit of being out late at night in such parts of the country as it frequents. The silence of the evening or midnight walk in June is occasionally broken by a deepchurr-churr-errwhich seemingly proceeds from the lower bough of a tree, a hedge, or paling. And a whirring of the wings comes often from their being brought in contact as the birds twist in insect-hunting.[18]The churring is nearly monotonous but not quite so, as it occasionally rises or falls about a quarter of a note, and appears to increase and diminish in loudness. Nor does it seem to proceed continuously from exactly the same spot, but to vary its position, as if the performer were either a ventriloquist or were actually shifting his ground. The bird perches with its feet resting lengthwise on a branch, its claws not being adapted for grasping, and turns its head from side to side, thus throwing the sound as it were in various directions, and producing the same effect as if it proceeded from different places. I have repeatedly worked myway close up to the bird, but as I labour under the disadvantage of being short-sighted, and derive little assistance from glasses at night, I have always failed to observe it actually perched and singing. In the summer of 1859 a Nightjar frequented the immediate neighbourhood of my own house, and I had many opportunities of listening to its note. One evening especially, it perched on a railing within fifty yards of the house, and I made sure of seeing it, but when I had approached within a few yards of the spot from whence the sound proceeded the humming suddenly stopped, but was presently again audible at the other end of the railing which ran across my meadow. I cautiously crept on, but with no better success than before. As I drew near, the bird quitted its perch, flew round me, coming within a few feet of my person, and, on my remaining still, made itself heard from another part of the railing only a few yards behind me. Again and again I dodged it, but always with the same result; I saw it, indeed, several times, but always on the wing. At last a longer interval of silence ensued, and when I heard the sound again it proceeded from a distant hedge which separated the meadow from a common. Here probably its mate was performing the domestic duty of incubation cheered by the dismal ditty of her partner; but I never saw her, though I undertook another nocturnal chase of the musician, hunting him from tree to tree, but never being able to discover his exact position, until the cessation of the sound and the sudden rustling of leaves announced the fact of his having taken his departure.In the dusk of the evening the Nightjar may commonly be seen hawking for moths and beetles after the manner of the Swallow-tribe, only that the flight is less rapid and more tortuous. I once saw one on the common mentioned above, hawking seemingly in company with Swifts and Swallows during the bright glare of a summer afternoon; but most frequently it spends the day either resting on the ground among heath or ferns or on the branch of a tree, always (according to Yarrell and others) crouching close down upon it, in the line of the limb, and not across it. When perched on the ground it lies very close, 'not rising (a French author says) until the dogs are almost on it, but worth shooting in September'. The poet Wordsworth, whose opportunities of watching the Nightjar in its haunts must have been numerous, knew that the whirring note is an accompaniment of the chase:The busy Dor-Hawk chases the white mothWith burring note——The burring Dor-Hawk round and round is wheeling:That solitary birdIs all that can be heardIn silence, deeper far than deepest noon.One point in the economy of the Nightjar is still disputed (1908)the use which it makes of its serrated middle claw. White, and another observer, quoted by Yarrell, have seen the bird while on the wing capture insects with the claw and transfer them to the mouth. Wilson, on the other hand, states that the use of this singular structure is to enable the bird to rid itself of vermin, to which it is much exposed by its habit of remaining at rest during the heat of the day. As he has actually observed a bird in captivity thus employing its claw, it would follow that the same organ is used for a twofold purpose.The Nightjar is a migratory bird and the last to arrive in this country, appearing not before the middle of May. It is found more or less sparingly in all parts of England, especially those which abound most in woods interspersed with heaths and brakes. In the wooded valleys of Devonshire it is of frequent occurrence, and here it has been known to remain so late in the season as November, whereas from most other localities it migrates southwards about the middle or end of September. It builds no nest, but lays its singularly beautiful eggs, two in number, on the ground among the dry herbage of the common.Other names by which it is locally known are Fern Owl, Wheeler, and Nightchurr.[18]Mr. Bell informs me that it is so like the croak of the Natter-Jack Toad, that he has more than once doubted from which of the two the sound proceeded.FAMILY PICIDÆSub-FamilyPICINÆTHE GREAT SPOTTED WOODPECKERDENDROCOPUS MAJORCrown and upper plumage black; a crimson patch on the back of the head; a white spot on each side of the neck; scapulars, lesser wing-coverts, and under plumage white; abdomen and under tail-coverts crimson; iris red.Female—without the crimson on the head. Length nine inches and a half; breadth fourteen inches. Eggs glossy white.In habits this bird closely resembles the Green Woodpecker. It is of less common occurrence, but by no means rare, especially in the wooded districts of the southern and midland counties. A writer in theZoologist[19]is of opinion that it shows a decided partiality to fallen timber. 'In 1849', he says, 'a considerable number of trees were cut down in an open part of the country near Melbourne, which were eventually drawn together and piled in lots. These lay for some time, and were visited almost daily by GreatSpotted Woodpeckers. Their habits and manners were very amusing, especially whilst searching for food. They alighted on the timber, placed the body in a particular position, generally with the head downward' [differing in this respect from the Green Woodpecker], 'and commenced pecking away at the bark. Piece by piece it fell under their bills, as chips from the axe of a woodman. Upon examining the bark, I found that the pieces were chipped away in order that the-bird might arrive at a small white grub which lay snugly embedded in the bark; and the adroitness of the bird in finding out those portions of it which contained the greatest number of grubs, was certainly very extraordinary. Where the birds were most at work on a particular tree, I shelled off the bark and found nearly thirty grubs in nine squares inches; but on shelling off another portion from the same tree, which remained untouched, no grub was visible. Yet how the bird could ascertain precisely where his food lay was singular, as in both cases the surface of the bark appeared the same and bore no traces of having been perforated by insects. During the day one bird chipped off a piece thirty inches long and twenty wide—a considerable day's work for so small a workman.' Another observer states that this bird rarely descends to the ground, and affects the upper branches of trees in preference to the lower. Its note is like that of the Green Woodpecker. Both species are charged with resorting to gardens and orchards during the fruit season, not in quest of insect food; but no instance of this has come under my own notice. It is said, too, that they eat nuts. This statement is most probably correct. I myself doubt whether there are many birds of any sort which can resist a walnut; and I would recommend any one who is hospitably disposed towards the birds which frequent his garden, to strew the ground with fragments of these nuts. To birds who are exclusively vegetarians, if indeed there be any such indigenous to Britain, they are a natural article of diet, and as from their oily nature they approximate to animal matter, they are most acceptable to insectivorous birds. They have an advantage over almost every other kind of food thus exposed, that they are not liable to be appropriated as scraps of meat and bread are, by prowling cats and dogs. A walnut, suspended from the bough of a tree by a string, will soon attract the notice of some inquisitive Tit, and, when once detected, will not fail to receive the visits of all birds of the same family which frequent the neighbourhood. A more amusing pendulum can scarcely be devised. To ensure the success of the experiment, a small portion of the shell should be removed.[19]Vol. viii, p. 3115.Plate_25Plate_26THE LESSER SPOTTED WOODPECKERDEUDROCOPUS MINORForehead and lower parts dirty white; crown bright red: nape, back, and wings black, with white bars; tail black, the outer feathers tipped with white and barred with black; iris red. Length five inches and a half; breadth twelve inches. Eggs glossy white.This handsome little bird resembles its congeners so closely, both in structure and habits, that it scarcely needs a lengthened description. Resident in England but rare in Scotland and Ireland, owing to its fondness for high trees and its small size it often escapes notice. It lays its eggs on the rotten wood, which it has either pecked, or which has fallen, from the holes in trees; they are not to be distinguished from those of the Wryneck. Lately (1908) a Scottish newspaper recorded the shooting of "that rare species, the Spotted Woodpecker!" "The man with the gun" is incurable.THE GREEN WOODPECKERGÉCINUS VIRIDISUpper plumage green; under, greenish ash; crown, back of the head, and moustaches crimson; face black.Female—less crimson on the head; moustaches black. Length thirteen inches; breadth twenty-one inches. Eggs glossy white.One of the most interesting among the natural sounds of the country, is that of theWoodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree:yet one may walk through the woods many times and hear no tapping at all, and even if such a sound be detected and traced to its origin, it will often be found to proceed from the Nuthatch, who has wedged a hazel-nut into the bark of an oak, than from the hammering of a Woodpecker. Yet often indeed it may be observed ascending, by a series of starts, the trunk of a tree, inclining now a little to the right, and now to the left, disappearing now and then on the side farthest from the spectator, and again coming into view somewhat higher up. Nor is its beak idle; this is employed sometimes in dislodging the insects which lurk in the rugged bark, and sometimes in tapping the trunk in order to find out whether the wood beneath is sound or otherwise. Just as a carpenter sounds a wall with his hammer in order to discover where the brickwork ends and where lath and plaster begin, so the Woodpecker sounds the wooden pillar to which it is clinging, in order to discover where thewood is impenetrable alike by insects and itself, and where the former have been beforehand with it in seeking food or shelter. Such a canker-spot found, it halts in its course, tears off piece-meal a portion of bark and excavates the rotten wood beneath, either as far as the fault extends or as long as it can find food. It is, then, by no means a mischievous bird, but the reverse; as it not only destroys a number of noxious insects, but points out to the woodman, if he would only observe aright, which trees are beginning to decay and consequently require his immediate attention. This aspect of the Woodpecker's operations is the right one and not the old idea that 'it is a great enemy of old trees in consequence of the holes which it digs in their trunks', as some old writer states.But with all his digging and tapping, the sound by which the vicinity of a Woodpecker is most frequently detected, especially in spring and summer, is the unmistakable laughing note which has gained for him the name of 'Yaffle.' No more perhaps than the mournful cooing of the dove does this indicate merriment; it is harsh, too, in tone; yet it rings through the woods with such jovial earnestness that it is always welcome. On such occasions the bird is not generally, I think, feeding, for if the neighbourhood from which the sound proceeded be closely watched, the Yaffle may frequently be observed to fly away, with a somewhat heavy dipping flight, to another tree or grove, and thence, after another laugh, to proceed to a second. It is indeed oftener to be seen on the wing than hunting for food on the trunks of trees. Very frequently too it may be observed on the ground, especially in a meadow or common in which ants abound.The admirable adaptation of the structure of the Woodpecker to its mode of life is well pointed out by Yarrell. Its sharp, hooked toes, pointing two each way, are eminently fitted for climbing and clinging. The keel of the breast-bone is remarkably shallow; hence, when ascending (its invariable mode of progress) a tree, it is enabled to bring its body close to the trunk without straining the muscles of the legs. Its tail is short, and composed of unusually stiff feathers, which in the process of climbing are pressed inwards against the tree, and contribute greatly to its support. The beak is strong and of considerable length, and thus fitted either for digging into an ant-hill or sounding the cavities of a tree; and the tongue, which is unusually long, is furnished with a curious but simple apparatus, by which it is extended so that it can be thrust into a hole far beyond the point of the bill, while its tip is barbed with small filaments, which, like the teeth of a rake, serve to pull up the larva or insect into its mouth. The Woodpecker builds no nest, but lays five or six glossy white eggs on the fragments of the decayed wood in which it has excavated its nest.Other names by which this bird is known are Popinjay, Wood-sprite, Rain-bird, Hew-hole and Woodweele.Sub-FamilyIŸNGINÆTHE WRYNECKIŸNX TORQUILLAUpper plumage reddish grey, irregularly spotted and lined with brown and black; a broad black and brown band from the back of the head to the back; throat and breast yellowish red, with dusky transverse rays; rest of the under plumage whitish, with arrow shaped black spots; outer web of the quills marked with rectangular alternate black and yellowish red spots; tail-feathers barred with black zigzag bands; beak and feet olive brown. Length six inches and a half; breadth eleven inches. Eggs glossy white.The note of the Wryneck is so peculiar that it can be confounded with none of the natural sounds of the country; a loud, rapid, harsh cry ofpay-pay-payfrom a bird about the size of a lark may be referred without hesitation to the Wryneck. Yet it is a pleasant sound after all—'the merry pee-bird' a poet calls it—and the untuneful minstrel is the same bird which is known by the name of 'Cuckoo's Mate', and so is associated with May-days, pleasant jaunts into the country, hayfields, the memory of past happy days and the hope of others to come. This name it derives not from any fondness it exhibits for the society of the cuckoo, as it is a bird of remarkably solitary habits, but because it arrives generally a few days before the cuckoo. Not less singular than its note is its plumage, which, though unmarked by gaudiness of colouring, is very beautiful, being richly embroidered as it were with brown and black on a reddish grey ground. In habits, it bears no marked resemblance to the Woodpeckers; it is not much given to climbing and never taps the trunks of trees; yet it does seek its food on decayed trees, and employs its long horny tongue in securing insects. It darts its tongue with inconceivable rapidity into an ant-hill and brings it out as rapidly, with the insects and their eggs adhering to its viscid point. These constitute its principal food, so that it is seen more frequently feeding on the ground than hunting on trees. But by far the strangest peculiarity of the Wryneck, stranger than its note and even than its worm-like tongue, is the wondrous pliancy of its neck, which one might almost imagine to be furnished with a ball and socket joint. A country boy who had caught one of these birds on its nest brought it to me on a speculation. As he held it in his hand, I raised my finger towards it as if about to touch its beak. The bird watched most eagerly the movement of my finger, with no semblance of fear, but rather with an apparent intention of resenting the offer of any injury. I moved my finger to the left; its beak followed the direction—the finger was now over its back, still the beak pointed to it. In short, as a magnetic needle follows a piece of steel, so the bird's beak followed my finger until it was again in front, the structure of the neck being such as to allow the headto make a complete revolution on its axis, and this without any painful effort. I purchased the bird and gave it its liberty, satisfied to have discovered the propriety of the name Torquilla.[20]I may here remark that the name Iÿnx,[21]is derived from its harsh cry. Besides this, the proper call-note of the bird, it utters, when disturbed in its nest, another which resembles a hiss; whence and partly, perhaps, on account of the peculiar structure of its neck, it is sometimes called the Snake-bird. Nest, properly speaking, it has none; it selects a hole in a decaying tree and lays its eggs on the rotten wood. Its powers of calculating seem to be of a very low order. Yarrell records an instance in which four sets of eggs, amounting to twenty-two, were successively taken before the nest was deserted; a harsh experiment, and scarcely to be justified except on the plea that they were taken by some one who gained his livelihood by selling eggs, or was reduced to a strait from want of food. A similar instance is recorded in theZoologist, when the number of eggs taken was also twenty-two. The Wryneck is a common bird in the south-eastern counties of England and to the west as far as Somersetshire; but I have never heard its note in Devon or Cornwall; it is rare also in the northern counties.[20]From the Latintorqueo, 'to twist.'[21]Greek ιυγξ from ιυζο, to 'shriek.'FAMILY ALCEDINIDÆTHE KINGFISHERALCEDO ÍSPIDABack azure-blue; head and wing-coverts bluish green, spotted with azure-blue; under and behind the eye a reddish band passing into white, and beneath this a band of azure-green; wings and tail greenish blue; throat white; under plumage rusty orange-red. Length seven inches and a quarter; width ten inches. Eggs glossy white, nearly round.Halcyon days, every one knows, are days of peace and tranquillity, when all goes smoothly, and nothing occurs to ruffle the equanimity of the most irascible member of a household; but it may not be known to all my younger readers that a bird is said to be in any way concerned in bringing about this happy state of things. According to the ancient naturalists the Halcyon, our Kingfisher, being especially fond of the water and its products, chooses to have even a floating nest. Now the surface of the sea is an unfit place whereon to construct a vessel of any kind, so the Halcyon, as any other skilful artisan would, puts together on land first the framework, andthen the supplementary portion of its nest, the materials being shelly matter and spines, whence derived is unknown; but the principal substance employed is fish-bones. During the progress of the work the careful bird several times tests its buoyancy by actual experiment, and when satisfied that all is safe, launches its future nursery on the ocean. However turbulent might have been the condition of the water previously to this event, thenceforth a calm ensued, which lasted during the period of incubation; and these were 'Halcyon days' (Halcyonides dies), which set in seven days before the winter solstice, and lasted as many days after. What became of the young after the lapse of this period is not stated, but the deserted nest itself, called halcyoneum, identical, perhaps, with what we consider the shell of the echinus, or sea-urchin, was deemed a valuable medicine.[22]The real nest of the Kingfisher is a collection of small fish-bones, which have evidently been disgorged by the old birds. A portion of one which I have in my possession, and which was taken about twenty years since from a deep hole in an embankment at Deepdale, Norfolk, consists exclusively of small fish-bones and scraps of the shells of shrimps. A precisely similar one is preserved in the British Museum, which is well worthy the inspection of the curious. It was found by Mr. Gould in a hole three feet deep on the banks of the Thames; it was half an inch thick and about the size of a tea saucer, and weighed 700 grains. Mr. Gould was enabled to prove that this mass was deposited, as well as eight eggs laid, in the short space of twenty-one days. In neither case was there any attempt made by the bird to employ the bones as materials for a structure; they were simply spread on the soil in such a way as to protect the eggs from damp, possessing probably no properties which made them superior to bents or dry leaves, but serving the purpose as well as anything else, and being more readily available, by a bird that does not peck on the ground, than materials of any other kind.The wanderer by the river's side on a bright sunny day, at any season, may have his attention suddenly arrested by the sight of a bird shooting past him, either up or down the stream, at so slight an elevation above the water, that he can look down on its back. Its flight is rapid, and the colour of the plumage so brilliant, that he can compare it to nothing less dazzlingly bright than the richest feathers of the peacock, or a newly dug specimen of copper ore. After an interval of a few seconds it will perhaps be followed by a second, its mate, arrayed in attire equally gorgeous with emerald, azure, and gold. Following the course of the bird, let him approach cautiously any pools where small fish are likely to abound, and he may chance to descry, perched motionless on the lower branchof an alder overhanging the stream, on some bending willow, or lichen-covered rail, the bird which but now glanced by him like a meteor. If exposed to the rays of the sun, the metallic green of its upper plumage is still most conspicuous; if in the shade, or surrounded by leaves, its chestnut red breast betrays its position. Not a step further in advance, or the fisherman, intent as he is on his sport, will take alarm and be off to another station. With beak pointed downwards it is watching until one among a shoal of minnows or bleaks comes within a fair aim; then with a twinkle of the wing it dashes head foremost from its post, plunges into the stream, disappears for a second, and emerges still head foremost with its struggling booty. A few pinches with its powerful beak, or a blow against its perch, deprives its prey of life, and the morsel is swallowed entire, head foremost. Occasionally, where convenient perches are rare, as is the case with the little pools left by the tide on the sea-shore (for the Kingfisher is common on the banks of tidal rivers as well as on inland streams and lakes), it hovers like a Kestrel, and plunges after small fish, shrimps, and marine insects. It once happened to me that I was angling by a river's side, quite concealed from view by a willow on either side of me, when a Kingfisher flew down the stream, and perched on my rod. I remained perfectly still, but was detected before an opportunity had been afforded me of taking a lesson from my brother sportsman.The Kingfisher is a permanent resident in this country, and may be observed, at any season, wherever there is a river, canal, or lake, those streams being preferred the banks of which are lined with trees or bushes. Like most other birds of brilliant plumage, it is no vocalist; its only note being a wild piping cry, which it utters while on the wing. Happily the Kingfishers are again on the increase in our country.[22]Plin.Nat. Hist.lib. x. cap. 32. xxxii. cap 8.FAMILY CORACIIDÆTHE ROLLERCORÁCIAS GÁRRULUSHead, neck, and under parts tinged with various shades of light blue, varied with green; back and scapulars reddish brown; tail blue, green, and black. Length twelve inches and a half. Eggs smooth shining white.About twenty specimens in all of this bird have been observed in England, the one of most recent occurrence being, I believe,one which was shot close to my garden, on the twentieth of September, 1852. The winter home of the Roller is Africa, and it is said to be particularly abundant in Algeria. About the middle of April it crosses the Mediterranean, and seems to prefer the north of Europe to the south as a summer residence, being more abundant in Germany and the south of Russia than in France, though many proceed no further than Sicily and Greece. Its food consists mainly of caterpillars and other insects. The name Roller, being derived directly from the FrenchRollier, should be pronounced so as to rhyme with 'dollar'.FAMILY MEROPIDÆTHE BEE-EATERMÊROPS APIÁSTERForehead white, passing into bluish green; upper plumage chestnut; throat golden yellow, bounded by a black line; wings variegated with blue, brown, and green; tail greenish blue. Length eleven inches. Eggs glossy white.This bird, which in brilliancy of plumage vies with the Hummingbirds, possesses little claim to be ranked among soberly clad British birds. Stray instances are indeed met with from time to time, but at distant intervals. In the islands of the Mediterranean, and in the southern countries of Europe, they are common summer visitors, and in Asia Minor and the south of Russia they are yet more frequent. They are gregarious in habits, having been observed, both in Europe, their summer, and in Africa, their winter residence, to perch together on the branches of trees in small flocks. They also build their nests near each other. These are excavations in the banks of rivers, variously stated to be extended to the depth of from six inches to as many feet. Their flight is graceful and light, resembling that of the Swallows. Their food consists of winged insects, especially bees and wasps, which they not only catch when they are wandering at large through the air, but watch for near their nests. The inhabitants of Candia and Cyprus are said to catch them by the help of a light silk line, to which is attached by a fish-hook a wild bee. The latter in its endeavour to escape soars into the air, and the Bee-eater seizing it becomes the prey of the aërial fisherman.FAMILY UPUPIDÆTHE HOOPOEUPUPA EPOPSCrest orange-red tipped with black; head, neck, and breast pale cinnamon; back, wings, and tail barred with black and white; under parts white. Length twelve inches; width nineteen inches. Eggs lavender grey, changing to greenish olive.Little appears to be known of the habits of this very foreign-looking bird from observation in Great Britain. The season at which it is seen in this country is usually autumn, though a few instances have occurred of its having bred with us. In the south of Europe and north of Africa it is of common occurrence as a summer visitor, but migrates southwards in autumn. Its English name is evidently derived from the FrenchHuppe, a word which also denotes 'a crest', the most striking characteristic of the bird. It is called also in FrancePuput, a word coined, perhaps, to denote the noise of disgust which one naturally makes at encountering an unpleasant odour, this, it is said, being the constant accompaniment of its nest, which is always found in a filthy condition, owing to the neglect of the parent birds in failing to remove offensive matter, in conformity with the laudable practise of most other birds. In spite of the martial appearance of its crest, it is said to be excessively timid, and to fly from an encounter with the smallest bird that opposes it. It lives principally on the ground, feeding on beetles and ants. On trees it sometimes perches but does not climb, and builds its nest in holes in trees and walls, rarely in clefts of rocks. It walks with a show of dignity when on the ground, erecting its crest from time to time. In spring the male utters a note not unlike the coo of a Wood-pigeon, which it repeats several times, and at other seasons it occasionally emits a sound something like the shrill note of the Greenfinch. But it is no musician and is as little anxious to be heard as seen. The nest is a simple structure composed of a few scraps of dried grass and feathers, and contains from four to six eggs. It would breed here annually if not always shot on arrival.FAMILY CUCULIDÆTHE CUCKOOCÚCULUS CANÓRUSUpper plumage bluish ash colour, darker on the wings, lighter on the neck and chest; under parts whitish with transverse dusky streaks; quills barred on the inner webs with oval white spots; tail-feathers blackish, tipped and spotted with white; bill dusky, edged with yellow; orbits and inside of the mouth orange-yellow; iris and feet yellow.Young—ash-brown, barred with reddish brown; tips of the feathers white; a white spot on the back of the head. Length thirteen inches and a half, breadth twenty-three inches. Eggs varying in colour and markings.No bird in a state of nature utters a note approaching so closely the sound of the human voice as the Cuckoo; on this account, perhaps, partially at least, it has at all times been regarded with especial interest. Its habits have been much investigated, and they are found to be unlike those of any other bird. The Cuckoo was a puzzle to the earlier naturalists, and there are points in its biography which are controverted still. From the days of Aristotle to those of Pliny, it was supposed to undergo a metamorphosis twice a year, appearing during the summer months as a Cuckoo, "a bird of the hawk kind, though destitute of curved talons and hooked beak, and having the bill of a Pigeon; should it chance to appear simultaneously with a Hawk it was devoured, being the sole example of a bird being killed by one of its own kind. In winter it actually changed into a Merlin, but reappeared in spring in its own form, but with an altered voice, laid a single egg, or rarely two, in the nest of some other bird, generally a Pigeon, declining to rear its own young, because it knew itself to be a common object of hostility among all birds, and that its brood would be in consequence unsafe, unless it practised a deception. The young Cuckoo being naturally greedy, monopolized the food brought to the nest by its foster parents; it thus grew fat and sleek, and so excited its dam with admiration of her lovely offspring, that she first neglected her own chicks, then suffered them to be devoured before her eyes, and finally fell a victim herself to his voracious appetite."[23]—A strange fiction, yet not more strange than the truth, a glimmering of which appears throughout. We know well enough now that the Cuckoo does not change into a Merlin, but migrates in autumn to the southern regions of Africa; but this neither Aristotle nor Pliny could have known, for the common belief in their days was, that a continued progress southwards would bring the traveller to a climate too fierce for the maintenance of animal life. Now the Merlin visits the south of Europe, just at the season when the Cuckoo disappears, and returns northwards tobreed in spring, a fact in its history as little known as the migration of the Cuckoo. It bears a certain resemblance to the Cuckoo, particularly in its barred plumage, certainly a greater one than exists between a caterpillar and a butterfly, so that there were some grounds for the belief in a metamorphosis, strengthened not a little by the fact that the habits of the bird were peculiar in other respects. Even so late as the time of our own countrymen, Willughby and Ray (1676), it was a matter of doubt whether the Cuckoo lay torpid in a hollow tree, or migrated during winter. These authors, though they do not admit their belief of a story told by Aldrovandus of a certain Swiss peasant having heard the note of a Cuckoo proceed from a log of wood which he had thrown into a furnace, thought it highly probable that the Cuckoo did become torpid during winter, and were acquainted with instances of persons who had heard its note during unusually mild winter weather. A Cuckoo which had probably been hatched off too late to go away with the rest remained about the tennis ground of a relative of the present editor until the middle of November, getting very tame. Then, unfortunately, a cat got it. The assertion again of the older naturalists, that the Cuckoo is the object of hatred among birds generally, seems credible, though I should be inclined to consider its habit of laying its eggs in the nests of other birds as the cause rather than the consequence of its unpopularity. The contrary, however, is the fact, numerous anecdotes of the Cuckoo showing that it is regarded by many other birds with a respect which amounts to infatuation, rather than with apprehension. The statement that it lays but one egg is erroneous, so also is the assertion of Willughby that it invariably destroys the eggs found in a nest previously to depositing its own. Pliny's assertion that the young bird devours its foster brothers and sisters is nearer the truth, but his account of its crowning act of impiety in swallowing its nurse, is, I need not say, altogether unfounded in fact. Having disposed of these errors, some of which are entertained by the credulous or ill-informed at the present day, I will proceed to sketch in outline the biography of this singular bird, as the facts are now pretty generally admitted.The Cuckoo arrives in this country about the middle of April; the time of its coming to different countries is adapted to the time of the foster-parents' breeding. During the whole of its stay it leads a wandering life, building no nest, and attaching itself to no particular locality. It shows no hostility towards birds of another kind, and little affection for those of its own. If two males meet in the course of their wandering they frequently fight with intense animosity. I was once witness of an encounter between two birds who chanced to meet in mid-air. Without alighting they attacked each other with fury, pecking at each other and changing places just as one sees two barn-door cocks fight for the supremacy of the dunghill. Feathers flew in profusion, and in their passion the angry birds heeded my presence so little that they came almost within arm's length of me. These single combats account for the belief formerly entertained that the Cuckoo was the only sort of Hawk that preyed on its own kind. The female does not pair or keep to one mate. It is, however, frequently accompanied by a small bird of another kind, said to be a Meadow Pipit.
ORDER PICARIÆ
FAMILY CYPSELIDÆ
THE SWIFTCÝPSELUS ÁPUS
General plumage sooty brown; chin greyish white; tarsi feathered; bill feet, and claws, shining black. Length eight inches; width seventeen inches. Eggs pure white.
The Swift is, perhaps, the strongest and swiftest, not merely of the Swallow tribe, but of all birds; hence a voyage from Southern Africa[16]to England is performed without overtaxing its strength. It stands in need of no rest after this prodigious flight, but immediately on its arrival starts with a right good will on its pursuit of food, as if its journey had been but a pleasant course of training for its daily vocation. With respect to temperature, however, its powers of endurance are limited; it never proceeds far northwards, and occasionally even suffers from unseasonably severe weather in the temperate climates where it fixes its summer residence. Mr. F. Smith, of the British Museum, related in theZoologist,[17]that, at Deal, on the eighth of July, 1856, after a mild but wet day, the temperature suddenly fell till it became disagreeably cold. The Swifts were sensibly affected by the atmospheric change; they flew unsteadily, fluttered against the walls of the houses, and some even flew into open windows. 'Whilst observing these occurrences', he says, 'a girl came to the door to ask me if I wanted to buy a bat; she had heard, she told me, that I bought all kinds of bugs, and her mother thought I might want a bat. On her producing it, I was astonished to find it was a poor benumbed Swift. The girl told me they were dropping down in the streets, and the boys were killing all the bats; the church, she said, was covered with them. Off I started to witness this strange sight and slaughter. True enough; the children were charging them everywhere,and on arriving at the church in Lower Street I was astonished to see the poor birds hanging in clusters from the eaves and cornices; some clusters were at least two feet in length, and, at intervals, benumbed individuals dropped from the outside of the clusters. Many hundreds of the poor birds fell victims to the ruthless ignorance of the children.' Being so susceptible of cold, the Swift does not visit us until summer may be considered to have completely set in. In the south it is generally seen towards the end of April, but it generally brings up the rear of the migratory birds by making its first appearance in the first or second week in May, in the north.
Early in August it makes itself, for a few days, more than ever conspicuous by its wheeling flights around the buildings which contain its nest, and then suddenly disappears. At this period, too, its note is more frequently heard than during any other part of its visit, and in this respect it is peculiar. As a general rule, birds cease their song partially, if not entirely, when their eggs are hatched. The new care of providing for the wants of a brood occupies their time too much to allow leisure for musical performance, so that with the exception of their call-notes, and their cries of alarm or defiance, they are for a season mute. An early riser, and late in retiring to roost, the Swift is always on the wing. Thus, whether hunting on his own account or on behalf of his mate and nestlings, his employment is unvaried, and the same amount of time is always at his disposal for exercising his vocal powers. These are not great; he has no roundelay; he neither warbles nor carols; he does not even twitter. His whole melody is a scream, unmusical but most joyous; a squeak would be a better name, but that, instead of conveying a notion that it results from pain, it is full of rollicking delight. Some compare it to the noise made by the sharpening of a saw; to me it seems such an expression of pent-up joy as little children would make if unexpectedly released from school, furnished with wings, and flung up into the air for a game of hide-and-seek among the clouds. Such soarings aloft, such chasings round the pinnacles of the church-tower and the gables of the farmhouses, no wonder that they cannot contain themselves for joy. Every day brings its picnic or village feast, with no weariness or depression on the morrow.
The nest of the Swift is constructed of any scraps that the bird may chance to find floating in the air, or brought to it by the wind, for it literally never perches on the ground, whence it rises with difficulty. These are rudely pressed together in any convenient aperture or moulding in a building, and cemented together by some glutinous secretion from the bird's mouth. Two eggs are laid, and the young, as a matter of necessity, remain in the nest until quite fledged.
Another name for the Swift is Black Martin, and in heraldryit is familiarly known as the Martlet, the figure of which is a device of frequent occurrence in heraldic coats of arms, and denotes that the original wearer of the distinction served as a crusader pilgrim. In Arabia it is still known by the name of Hadji, or Pilgrim, to denote its migratory habits.
[1]Livingstone mentions his having seen in the plains north of Kuruman a flock of Swifts, computed to contain upwards of 4,000 individuals.
[2]September, 1856, p. 5249.
FAMILY CAPRIMULGIDÆ
THE NIGHTJARCAPRIMÚLGUS EUROP['Æ]US
General plumage ash-grey, spotted and barred with black, brown and reddish brown; first three primaries with a large white patch, on the inner web; two outer tail-feathers on each side tipped with white. Length ten inches and a quarter; breadth twenty-two inches. Eggs whitish, beautifully marbled with brown and ash.
This bird used to be described as a nocturnal robber who finds his way into the goat-pens, sucks the dugs of the goats, poisoning them to such an extent that the animals themselves are blinded, and their udders waste away. This fable we notice in order to account for the strange name Goatsucker, by which it was formerly so well known. The bird has, indeed, strangely enough, been known all over Europe by an equivalent for this name from the earliest times. The bird itself is perfectly inoffensive, singular in form and habits, though rarely seen alive near enough for its peculiarities of form and colour to be observed. Its note, however, is familiar enough to persons who are in the habit of being out late at night in such parts of the country as it frequents. The silence of the evening or midnight walk in June is occasionally broken by a deepchurr-churr-errwhich seemingly proceeds from the lower bough of a tree, a hedge, or paling. And a whirring of the wings comes often from their being brought in contact as the birds twist in insect-hunting.[18]The churring is nearly monotonous but not quite so, as it occasionally rises or falls about a quarter of a note, and appears to increase and diminish in loudness. Nor does it seem to proceed continuously from exactly the same spot, but to vary its position, as if the performer were either a ventriloquist or were actually shifting his ground. The bird perches with its feet resting lengthwise on a branch, its claws not being adapted for grasping, and turns its head from side to side, thus throwing the sound as it were in various directions, and producing the same effect as if it proceeded from different places. I have repeatedly worked myway close up to the bird, but as I labour under the disadvantage of being short-sighted, and derive little assistance from glasses at night, I have always failed to observe it actually perched and singing. In the summer of 1859 a Nightjar frequented the immediate neighbourhood of my own house, and I had many opportunities of listening to its note. One evening especially, it perched on a railing within fifty yards of the house, and I made sure of seeing it, but when I had approached within a few yards of the spot from whence the sound proceeded the humming suddenly stopped, but was presently again audible at the other end of the railing which ran across my meadow. I cautiously crept on, but with no better success than before. As I drew near, the bird quitted its perch, flew round me, coming within a few feet of my person, and, on my remaining still, made itself heard from another part of the railing only a few yards behind me. Again and again I dodged it, but always with the same result; I saw it, indeed, several times, but always on the wing. At last a longer interval of silence ensued, and when I heard the sound again it proceeded from a distant hedge which separated the meadow from a common. Here probably its mate was performing the domestic duty of incubation cheered by the dismal ditty of her partner; but I never saw her, though I undertook another nocturnal chase of the musician, hunting him from tree to tree, but never being able to discover his exact position, until the cessation of the sound and the sudden rustling of leaves announced the fact of his having taken his departure.
In the dusk of the evening the Nightjar may commonly be seen hawking for moths and beetles after the manner of the Swallow-tribe, only that the flight is less rapid and more tortuous. I once saw one on the common mentioned above, hawking seemingly in company with Swifts and Swallows during the bright glare of a summer afternoon; but most frequently it spends the day either resting on the ground among heath or ferns or on the branch of a tree, always (according to Yarrell and others) crouching close down upon it, in the line of the limb, and not across it. When perched on the ground it lies very close, 'not rising (a French author says) until the dogs are almost on it, but worth shooting in September'. The poet Wordsworth, whose opportunities of watching the Nightjar in its haunts must have been numerous, knew that the whirring note is an accompaniment of the chase:
The busy Dor-Hawk chases the white moth
With burring note——
The burring Dor-Hawk round and round is wheeling:
That solitary bird
Is all that can be heard
In silence, deeper far than deepest noon.
One point in the economy of the Nightjar is still disputed (1908)the use which it makes of its serrated middle claw. White, and another observer, quoted by Yarrell, have seen the bird while on the wing capture insects with the claw and transfer them to the mouth. Wilson, on the other hand, states that the use of this singular structure is to enable the bird to rid itself of vermin, to which it is much exposed by its habit of remaining at rest during the heat of the day. As he has actually observed a bird in captivity thus employing its claw, it would follow that the same organ is used for a twofold purpose.
The Nightjar is a migratory bird and the last to arrive in this country, appearing not before the middle of May. It is found more or less sparingly in all parts of England, especially those which abound most in woods interspersed with heaths and brakes. In the wooded valleys of Devonshire it is of frequent occurrence, and here it has been known to remain so late in the season as November, whereas from most other localities it migrates southwards about the middle or end of September. It builds no nest, but lays its singularly beautiful eggs, two in number, on the ground among the dry herbage of the common.
Other names by which it is locally known are Fern Owl, Wheeler, and Nightchurr.
[18]Mr. Bell informs me that it is so like the croak of the Natter-Jack Toad, that he has more than once doubted from which of the two the sound proceeded.
FAMILY PICIDÆ
Sub-FamilyPICINÆ
THE GREAT SPOTTED WOODPECKERDENDROCOPUS MAJOR
Crown and upper plumage black; a crimson patch on the back of the head; a white spot on each side of the neck; scapulars, lesser wing-coverts, and under plumage white; abdomen and under tail-coverts crimson; iris red.Female—without the crimson on the head. Length nine inches and a half; breadth fourteen inches. Eggs glossy white.
In habits this bird closely resembles the Green Woodpecker. It is of less common occurrence, but by no means rare, especially in the wooded districts of the southern and midland counties. A writer in theZoologist[19]is of opinion that it shows a decided partiality to fallen timber. 'In 1849', he says, 'a considerable number of trees were cut down in an open part of the country near Melbourne, which were eventually drawn together and piled in lots. These lay for some time, and were visited almost daily by GreatSpotted Woodpeckers. Their habits and manners were very amusing, especially whilst searching for food. They alighted on the timber, placed the body in a particular position, generally with the head downward' [differing in this respect from the Green Woodpecker], 'and commenced pecking away at the bark. Piece by piece it fell under their bills, as chips from the axe of a woodman. Upon examining the bark, I found that the pieces were chipped away in order that the-bird might arrive at a small white grub which lay snugly embedded in the bark; and the adroitness of the bird in finding out those portions of it which contained the greatest number of grubs, was certainly very extraordinary. Where the birds were most at work on a particular tree, I shelled off the bark and found nearly thirty grubs in nine squares inches; but on shelling off another portion from the same tree, which remained untouched, no grub was visible. Yet how the bird could ascertain precisely where his food lay was singular, as in both cases the surface of the bark appeared the same and bore no traces of having been perforated by insects. During the day one bird chipped off a piece thirty inches long and twenty wide—a considerable day's work for so small a workman.' Another observer states that this bird rarely descends to the ground, and affects the upper branches of trees in preference to the lower. Its note is like that of the Green Woodpecker. Both species are charged with resorting to gardens and orchards during the fruit season, not in quest of insect food; but no instance of this has come under my own notice. It is said, too, that they eat nuts. This statement is most probably correct. I myself doubt whether there are many birds of any sort which can resist a walnut; and I would recommend any one who is hospitably disposed towards the birds which frequent his garden, to strew the ground with fragments of these nuts. To birds who are exclusively vegetarians, if indeed there be any such indigenous to Britain, they are a natural article of diet, and as from their oily nature they approximate to animal matter, they are most acceptable to insectivorous birds. They have an advantage over almost every other kind of food thus exposed, that they are not liable to be appropriated as scraps of meat and bread are, by prowling cats and dogs. A walnut, suspended from the bough of a tree by a string, will soon attract the notice of some inquisitive Tit, and, when once detected, will not fail to receive the visits of all birds of the same family which frequent the neighbourhood. A more amusing pendulum can scarcely be devised. To ensure the success of the experiment, a small portion of the shell should be removed.
[19]Vol. viii, p. 3115.
Plate_25
Plate_26
THE LESSER SPOTTED WOODPECKERDEUDROCOPUS MINOR
Forehead and lower parts dirty white; crown bright red: nape, back, and wings black, with white bars; tail black, the outer feathers tipped with white and barred with black; iris red. Length five inches and a half; breadth twelve inches. Eggs glossy white.
This handsome little bird resembles its congeners so closely, both in structure and habits, that it scarcely needs a lengthened description. Resident in England but rare in Scotland and Ireland, owing to its fondness for high trees and its small size it often escapes notice. It lays its eggs on the rotten wood, which it has either pecked, or which has fallen, from the holes in trees; they are not to be distinguished from those of the Wryneck. Lately (1908) a Scottish newspaper recorded the shooting of "that rare species, the Spotted Woodpecker!" "The man with the gun" is incurable.
THE GREEN WOODPECKERGÉCINUS VIRIDIS
Upper plumage green; under, greenish ash; crown, back of the head, and moustaches crimson; face black.Female—less crimson on the head; moustaches black. Length thirteen inches; breadth twenty-one inches. Eggs glossy white.
One of the most interesting among the natural sounds of the country, is that of the
Woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree:
yet one may walk through the woods many times and hear no tapping at all, and even if such a sound be detected and traced to its origin, it will often be found to proceed from the Nuthatch, who has wedged a hazel-nut into the bark of an oak, than from the hammering of a Woodpecker. Yet often indeed it may be observed ascending, by a series of starts, the trunk of a tree, inclining now a little to the right, and now to the left, disappearing now and then on the side farthest from the spectator, and again coming into view somewhat higher up. Nor is its beak idle; this is employed sometimes in dislodging the insects which lurk in the rugged bark, and sometimes in tapping the trunk in order to find out whether the wood beneath is sound or otherwise. Just as a carpenter sounds a wall with his hammer in order to discover where the brickwork ends and where lath and plaster begin, so the Woodpecker sounds the wooden pillar to which it is clinging, in order to discover where thewood is impenetrable alike by insects and itself, and where the former have been beforehand with it in seeking food or shelter. Such a canker-spot found, it halts in its course, tears off piece-meal a portion of bark and excavates the rotten wood beneath, either as far as the fault extends or as long as it can find food. It is, then, by no means a mischievous bird, but the reverse; as it not only destroys a number of noxious insects, but points out to the woodman, if he would only observe aright, which trees are beginning to decay and consequently require his immediate attention. This aspect of the Woodpecker's operations is the right one and not the old idea that 'it is a great enemy of old trees in consequence of the holes which it digs in their trunks', as some old writer states.
But with all his digging and tapping, the sound by which the vicinity of a Woodpecker is most frequently detected, especially in spring and summer, is the unmistakable laughing note which has gained for him the name of 'Yaffle.' No more perhaps than the mournful cooing of the dove does this indicate merriment; it is harsh, too, in tone; yet it rings through the woods with such jovial earnestness that it is always welcome. On such occasions the bird is not generally, I think, feeding, for if the neighbourhood from which the sound proceeded be closely watched, the Yaffle may frequently be observed to fly away, with a somewhat heavy dipping flight, to another tree or grove, and thence, after another laugh, to proceed to a second. It is indeed oftener to be seen on the wing than hunting for food on the trunks of trees. Very frequently too it may be observed on the ground, especially in a meadow or common in which ants abound.
The admirable adaptation of the structure of the Woodpecker to its mode of life is well pointed out by Yarrell. Its sharp, hooked toes, pointing two each way, are eminently fitted for climbing and clinging. The keel of the breast-bone is remarkably shallow; hence, when ascending (its invariable mode of progress) a tree, it is enabled to bring its body close to the trunk without straining the muscles of the legs. Its tail is short, and composed of unusually stiff feathers, which in the process of climbing are pressed inwards against the tree, and contribute greatly to its support. The beak is strong and of considerable length, and thus fitted either for digging into an ant-hill or sounding the cavities of a tree; and the tongue, which is unusually long, is furnished with a curious but simple apparatus, by which it is extended so that it can be thrust into a hole far beyond the point of the bill, while its tip is barbed with small filaments, which, like the teeth of a rake, serve to pull up the larva or insect into its mouth. The Woodpecker builds no nest, but lays five or six glossy white eggs on the fragments of the decayed wood in which it has excavated its nest.
Other names by which this bird is known are Popinjay, Wood-sprite, Rain-bird, Hew-hole and Woodweele.
Sub-FamilyIŸNGINÆ
THE WRYNECKIŸNX TORQUILLA
Upper plumage reddish grey, irregularly spotted and lined with brown and black; a broad black and brown band from the back of the head to the back; throat and breast yellowish red, with dusky transverse rays; rest of the under plumage whitish, with arrow shaped black spots; outer web of the quills marked with rectangular alternate black and yellowish red spots; tail-feathers barred with black zigzag bands; beak and feet olive brown. Length six inches and a half; breadth eleven inches. Eggs glossy white.
The note of the Wryneck is so peculiar that it can be confounded with none of the natural sounds of the country; a loud, rapid, harsh cry ofpay-pay-payfrom a bird about the size of a lark may be referred without hesitation to the Wryneck. Yet it is a pleasant sound after all—'the merry pee-bird' a poet calls it—and the untuneful minstrel is the same bird which is known by the name of 'Cuckoo's Mate', and so is associated with May-days, pleasant jaunts into the country, hayfields, the memory of past happy days and the hope of others to come. This name it derives not from any fondness it exhibits for the society of the cuckoo, as it is a bird of remarkably solitary habits, but because it arrives generally a few days before the cuckoo. Not less singular than its note is its plumage, which, though unmarked by gaudiness of colouring, is very beautiful, being richly embroidered as it were with brown and black on a reddish grey ground. In habits, it bears no marked resemblance to the Woodpeckers; it is not much given to climbing and never taps the trunks of trees; yet it does seek its food on decayed trees, and employs its long horny tongue in securing insects. It darts its tongue with inconceivable rapidity into an ant-hill and brings it out as rapidly, with the insects and their eggs adhering to its viscid point. These constitute its principal food, so that it is seen more frequently feeding on the ground than hunting on trees. But by far the strangest peculiarity of the Wryneck, stranger than its note and even than its worm-like tongue, is the wondrous pliancy of its neck, which one might almost imagine to be furnished with a ball and socket joint. A country boy who had caught one of these birds on its nest brought it to me on a speculation. As he held it in his hand, I raised my finger towards it as if about to touch its beak. The bird watched most eagerly the movement of my finger, with no semblance of fear, but rather with an apparent intention of resenting the offer of any injury. I moved my finger to the left; its beak followed the direction—the finger was now over its back, still the beak pointed to it. In short, as a magnetic needle follows a piece of steel, so the bird's beak followed my finger until it was again in front, the structure of the neck being such as to allow the headto make a complete revolution on its axis, and this without any painful effort. I purchased the bird and gave it its liberty, satisfied to have discovered the propriety of the name Torquilla.[20]I may here remark that the name Iÿnx,[21]is derived from its harsh cry. Besides this, the proper call-note of the bird, it utters, when disturbed in its nest, another which resembles a hiss; whence and partly, perhaps, on account of the peculiar structure of its neck, it is sometimes called the Snake-bird. Nest, properly speaking, it has none; it selects a hole in a decaying tree and lays its eggs on the rotten wood. Its powers of calculating seem to be of a very low order. Yarrell records an instance in which four sets of eggs, amounting to twenty-two, were successively taken before the nest was deserted; a harsh experiment, and scarcely to be justified except on the plea that they were taken by some one who gained his livelihood by selling eggs, or was reduced to a strait from want of food. A similar instance is recorded in theZoologist, when the number of eggs taken was also twenty-two. The Wryneck is a common bird in the south-eastern counties of England and to the west as far as Somersetshire; but I have never heard its note in Devon or Cornwall; it is rare also in the northern counties.
[20]From the Latintorqueo, 'to twist.'
[21]Greek ιυγξ from ιυζο, to 'shriek.'
FAMILY ALCEDINIDÆ
THE KINGFISHERALCEDO ÍSPIDA
Back azure-blue; head and wing-coverts bluish green, spotted with azure-blue; under and behind the eye a reddish band passing into white, and beneath this a band of azure-green; wings and tail greenish blue; throat white; under plumage rusty orange-red. Length seven inches and a quarter; width ten inches. Eggs glossy white, nearly round.
Halcyon days, every one knows, are days of peace and tranquillity, when all goes smoothly, and nothing occurs to ruffle the equanimity of the most irascible member of a household; but it may not be known to all my younger readers that a bird is said to be in any way concerned in bringing about this happy state of things. According to the ancient naturalists the Halcyon, our Kingfisher, being especially fond of the water and its products, chooses to have even a floating nest. Now the surface of the sea is an unfit place whereon to construct a vessel of any kind, so the Halcyon, as any other skilful artisan would, puts together on land first the framework, andthen the supplementary portion of its nest, the materials being shelly matter and spines, whence derived is unknown; but the principal substance employed is fish-bones. During the progress of the work the careful bird several times tests its buoyancy by actual experiment, and when satisfied that all is safe, launches its future nursery on the ocean. However turbulent might have been the condition of the water previously to this event, thenceforth a calm ensued, which lasted during the period of incubation; and these were 'Halcyon days' (Halcyonides dies), which set in seven days before the winter solstice, and lasted as many days after. What became of the young after the lapse of this period is not stated, but the deserted nest itself, called halcyoneum, identical, perhaps, with what we consider the shell of the echinus, or sea-urchin, was deemed a valuable medicine.[22]
The real nest of the Kingfisher is a collection of small fish-bones, which have evidently been disgorged by the old birds. A portion of one which I have in my possession, and which was taken about twenty years since from a deep hole in an embankment at Deepdale, Norfolk, consists exclusively of small fish-bones and scraps of the shells of shrimps. A precisely similar one is preserved in the British Museum, which is well worthy the inspection of the curious. It was found by Mr. Gould in a hole three feet deep on the banks of the Thames; it was half an inch thick and about the size of a tea saucer, and weighed 700 grains. Mr. Gould was enabled to prove that this mass was deposited, as well as eight eggs laid, in the short space of twenty-one days. In neither case was there any attempt made by the bird to employ the bones as materials for a structure; they were simply spread on the soil in such a way as to protect the eggs from damp, possessing probably no properties which made them superior to bents or dry leaves, but serving the purpose as well as anything else, and being more readily available, by a bird that does not peck on the ground, than materials of any other kind.
The wanderer by the river's side on a bright sunny day, at any season, may have his attention suddenly arrested by the sight of a bird shooting past him, either up or down the stream, at so slight an elevation above the water, that he can look down on its back. Its flight is rapid, and the colour of the plumage so brilliant, that he can compare it to nothing less dazzlingly bright than the richest feathers of the peacock, or a newly dug specimen of copper ore. After an interval of a few seconds it will perhaps be followed by a second, its mate, arrayed in attire equally gorgeous with emerald, azure, and gold. Following the course of the bird, let him approach cautiously any pools where small fish are likely to abound, and he may chance to descry, perched motionless on the lower branchof an alder overhanging the stream, on some bending willow, or lichen-covered rail, the bird which but now glanced by him like a meteor. If exposed to the rays of the sun, the metallic green of its upper plumage is still most conspicuous; if in the shade, or surrounded by leaves, its chestnut red breast betrays its position. Not a step further in advance, or the fisherman, intent as he is on his sport, will take alarm and be off to another station. With beak pointed downwards it is watching until one among a shoal of minnows or bleaks comes within a fair aim; then with a twinkle of the wing it dashes head foremost from its post, plunges into the stream, disappears for a second, and emerges still head foremost with its struggling booty. A few pinches with its powerful beak, or a blow against its perch, deprives its prey of life, and the morsel is swallowed entire, head foremost. Occasionally, where convenient perches are rare, as is the case with the little pools left by the tide on the sea-shore (for the Kingfisher is common on the banks of tidal rivers as well as on inland streams and lakes), it hovers like a Kestrel, and plunges after small fish, shrimps, and marine insects. It once happened to me that I was angling by a river's side, quite concealed from view by a willow on either side of me, when a Kingfisher flew down the stream, and perched on my rod. I remained perfectly still, but was detected before an opportunity had been afforded me of taking a lesson from my brother sportsman.
The Kingfisher is a permanent resident in this country, and may be observed, at any season, wherever there is a river, canal, or lake, those streams being preferred the banks of which are lined with trees or bushes. Like most other birds of brilliant plumage, it is no vocalist; its only note being a wild piping cry, which it utters while on the wing. Happily the Kingfishers are again on the increase in our country.
[22]Plin.Nat. Hist.lib. x. cap. 32. xxxii. cap 8.
FAMILY CORACIIDÆ
THE ROLLERCORÁCIAS GÁRRULUS
Head, neck, and under parts tinged with various shades of light blue, varied with green; back and scapulars reddish brown; tail blue, green, and black. Length twelve inches and a half. Eggs smooth shining white.
About twenty specimens in all of this bird have been observed in England, the one of most recent occurrence being, I believe,one which was shot close to my garden, on the twentieth of September, 1852. The winter home of the Roller is Africa, and it is said to be particularly abundant in Algeria. About the middle of April it crosses the Mediterranean, and seems to prefer the north of Europe to the south as a summer residence, being more abundant in Germany and the south of Russia than in France, though many proceed no further than Sicily and Greece. Its food consists mainly of caterpillars and other insects. The name Roller, being derived directly from the FrenchRollier, should be pronounced so as to rhyme with 'dollar'.
FAMILY MEROPIDÆ
THE BEE-EATERMÊROPS APIÁSTER
Forehead white, passing into bluish green; upper plumage chestnut; throat golden yellow, bounded by a black line; wings variegated with blue, brown, and green; tail greenish blue. Length eleven inches. Eggs glossy white.
This bird, which in brilliancy of plumage vies with the Hummingbirds, possesses little claim to be ranked among soberly clad British birds. Stray instances are indeed met with from time to time, but at distant intervals. In the islands of the Mediterranean, and in the southern countries of Europe, they are common summer visitors, and in Asia Minor and the south of Russia they are yet more frequent. They are gregarious in habits, having been observed, both in Europe, their summer, and in Africa, their winter residence, to perch together on the branches of trees in small flocks. They also build their nests near each other. These are excavations in the banks of rivers, variously stated to be extended to the depth of from six inches to as many feet. Their flight is graceful and light, resembling that of the Swallows. Their food consists of winged insects, especially bees and wasps, which they not only catch when they are wandering at large through the air, but watch for near their nests. The inhabitants of Candia and Cyprus are said to catch them by the help of a light silk line, to which is attached by a fish-hook a wild bee. The latter in its endeavour to escape soars into the air, and the Bee-eater seizing it becomes the prey of the aërial fisherman.
FAMILY UPUPIDÆ
THE HOOPOEUPUPA EPOPS
Crest orange-red tipped with black; head, neck, and breast pale cinnamon; back, wings, and tail barred with black and white; under parts white. Length twelve inches; width nineteen inches. Eggs lavender grey, changing to greenish olive.
Little appears to be known of the habits of this very foreign-looking bird from observation in Great Britain. The season at which it is seen in this country is usually autumn, though a few instances have occurred of its having bred with us. In the south of Europe and north of Africa it is of common occurrence as a summer visitor, but migrates southwards in autumn. Its English name is evidently derived from the FrenchHuppe, a word which also denotes 'a crest', the most striking characteristic of the bird. It is called also in FrancePuput, a word coined, perhaps, to denote the noise of disgust which one naturally makes at encountering an unpleasant odour, this, it is said, being the constant accompaniment of its nest, which is always found in a filthy condition, owing to the neglect of the parent birds in failing to remove offensive matter, in conformity with the laudable practise of most other birds. In spite of the martial appearance of its crest, it is said to be excessively timid, and to fly from an encounter with the smallest bird that opposes it. It lives principally on the ground, feeding on beetles and ants. On trees it sometimes perches but does not climb, and builds its nest in holes in trees and walls, rarely in clefts of rocks. It walks with a show of dignity when on the ground, erecting its crest from time to time. In spring the male utters a note not unlike the coo of a Wood-pigeon, which it repeats several times, and at other seasons it occasionally emits a sound something like the shrill note of the Greenfinch. But it is no musician and is as little anxious to be heard as seen. The nest is a simple structure composed of a few scraps of dried grass and feathers, and contains from four to six eggs. It would breed here annually if not always shot on arrival.
FAMILY CUCULIDÆ
THE CUCKOOCÚCULUS CANÓRUS
Upper plumage bluish ash colour, darker on the wings, lighter on the neck and chest; under parts whitish with transverse dusky streaks; quills barred on the inner webs with oval white spots; tail-feathers blackish, tipped and spotted with white; bill dusky, edged with yellow; orbits and inside of the mouth orange-yellow; iris and feet yellow.Young—ash-brown, barred with reddish brown; tips of the feathers white; a white spot on the back of the head. Length thirteen inches and a half, breadth twenty-three inches. Eggs varying in colour and markings.
No bird in a state of nature utters a note approaching so closely the sound of the human voice as the Cuckoo; on this account, perhaps, partially at least, it has at all times been regarded with especial interest. Its habits have been much investigated, and they are found to be unlike those of any other bird. The Cuckoo was a puzzle to the earlier naturalists, and there are points in its biography which are controverted still. From the days of Aristotle to those of Pliny, it was supposed to undergo a metamorphosis twice a year, appearing during the summer months as a Cuckoo, "a bird of the hawk kind, though destitute of curved talons and hooked beak, and having the bill of a Pigeon; should it chance to appear simultaneously with a Hawk it was devoured, being the sole example of a bird being killed by one of its own kind. In winter it actually changed into a Merlin, but reappeared in spring in its own form, but with an altered voice, laid a single egg, or rarely two, in the nest of some other bird, generally a Pigeon, declining to rear its own young, because it knew itself to be a common object of hostility among all birds, and that its brood would be in consequence unsafe, unless it practised a deception. The young Cuckoo being naturally greedy, monopolized the food brought to the nest by its foster parents; it thus grew fat and sleek, and so excited its dam with admiration of her lovely offspring, that she first neglected her own chicks, then suffered them to be devoured before her eyes, and finally fell a victim herself to his voracious appetite."[23]—A strange fiction, yet not more strange than the truth, a glimmering of which appears throughout. We know well enough now that the Cuckoo does not change into a Merlin, but migrates in autumn to the southern regions of Africa; but this neither Aristotle nor Pliny could have known, for the common belief in their days was, that a continued progress southwards would bring the traveller to a climate too fierce for the maintenance of animal life. Now the Merlin visits the south of Europe, just at the season when the Cuckoo disappears, and returns northwards tobreed in spring, a fact in its history as little known as the migration of the Cuckoo. It bears a certain resemblance to the Cuckoo, particularly in its barred plumage, certainly a greater one than exists between a caterpillar and a butterfly, so that there were some grounds for the belief in a metamorphosis, strengthened not a little by the fact that the habits of the bird were peculiar in other respects. Even so late as the time of our own countrymen, Willughby and Ray (1676), it was a matter of doubt whether the Cuckoo lay torpid in a hollow tree, or migrated during winter. These authors, though they do not admit their belief of a story told by Aldrovandus of a certain Swiss peasant having heard the note of a Cuckoo proceed from a log of wood which he had thrown into a furnace, thought it highly probable that the Cuckoo did become torpid during winter, and were acquainted with instances of persons who had heard its note during unusually mild winter weather. A Cuckoo which had probably been hatched off too late to go away with the rest remained about the tennis ground of a relative of the present editor until the middle of November, getting very tame. Then, unfortunately, a cat got it. The assertion again of the older naturalists, that the Cuckoo is the object of hatred among birds generally, seems credible, though I should be inclined to consider its habit of laying its eggs in the nests of other birds as the cause rather than the consequence of its unpopularity. The contrary, however, is the fact, numerous anecdotes of the Cuckoo showing that it is regarded by many other birds with a respect which amounts to infatuation, rather than with apprehension. The statement that it lays but one egg is erroneous, so also is the assertion of Willughby that it invariably destroys the eggs found in a nest previously to depositing its own. Pliny's assertion that the young bird devours its foster brothers and sisters is nearer the truth, but his account of its crowning act of impiety in swallowing its nurse, is, I need not say, altogether unfounded in fact. Having disposed of these errors, some of which are entertained by the credulous or ill-informed at the present day, I will proceed to sketch in outline the biography of this singular bird, as the facts are now pretty generally admitted.
The Cuckoo arrives in this country about the middle of April; the time of its coming to different countries is adapted to the time of the foster-parents' breeding. During the whole of its stay it leads a wandering life, building no nest, and attaching itself to no particular locality. It shows no hostility towards birds of another kind, and little affection for those of its own. If two males meet in the course of their wandering they frequently fight with intense animosity. I was once witness of an encounter between two birds who chanced to meet in mid-air. Without alighting they attacked each other with fury, pecking at each other and changing places just as one sees two barn-door cocks fight for the supremacy of the dunghill. Feathers flew in profusion, and in their passion the angry birds heeded my presence so little that they came almost within arm's length of me. These single combats account for the belief formerly entertained that the Cuckoo was the only sort of Hawk that preyed on its own kind. The female does not pair or keep to one mate. It is, however, frequently accompanied by a small bird of another kind, said to be a Meadow Pipit.