"The seas are ill to sailors evermoreWhen Cormorants fly crying to the shore."
"The seas are ill to sailors evermoreWhen Cormorants fly crying to the shore."
"The seas are ill to sailors evermore
When Cormorants fly crying to the shore."
Letter C
CERTAINbirds are known to utter strange sounds, the origin of which has much puzzled the ornithologists. The Brown Owl which hoots, is hence called the Screech Owl: a musical friend of Gilbert White tried all the Owls that were his near neighbours with a pitch-pipe set at a concert pitch, and found they all hooted in B flat; and he subsequently found that neither Owls nor Cuckoos keep to one note. The Whidah Bird, one of the most costly of cage-birds, rattles its tail-feathers with a noise somewhat resembling that made by the rattle-snake. The Chinese Starling, in China calledLonguoy, in captivity is very teachable, imitating words, and even whistling tunes: we all remember Sterne's Starling. The Piping Crow, to be seen in troops in the Blue Mountains, is named from its ready mimicry of other birds: its imitation of the chucking and cackling of a hen and the crowing of a cock, as well as its whistling of tunes, are described as very perfect: its nativenote is said to be a loud whistle. The Blue Jay turns his imitative faculty to treacherous account: he so closely imitates the St. Domingo Falcon as to deceive even those acquainted with both birds; and the Falcon no sooner appears in their neighbourhood than the jays swarm around him and insult him with their imitative cries; for which they frequently fall victims to his appetite. The Bullfinch, according to Blumenbach, learns to whistle tunes, to sing in parts, and even to pronounce words. The note of the Crowned Crane has been compared by Buffon to the hoarseness of a trumpet; it also clucks like a hen. Mr. Wallace, in his "Travels on the Amazon," saw a bird about the size and colour of the Raven, which uttered a loud, hoarse cry, like some deep musical instrument, whence its Indian name,Ueramioube, Trumpet Bird: it inhabits the flooded islands of the Rio Negro and the Solimoes, never appearing on the mainland.[12]The only sound produced by Storksis by snapping their bills. The Night Heron is called the Qua Bird; from its noteQua.
The Bittern, the English provincial names of which are the Mire-drum, Bull of the Bog, &c., is so called for the bellowing or drumming noise or booming for which the bird is so famous. This deep note of the "hollow-sounding Bittern" is exerted on the ground at the breeding season, about February or March. As the day declines he leaves his haunt, and, rising spirally, soars to a great height in the twilight. Willughby says that it performs this last-mentioned feat in the autumn, "making a singular kind of noise, nothing like to lowing." Bewick says that it soars as above described when it changes its haunts. Ordinarily it flies heavily, like the Heron, uttering from time to time a resounding cry, not bellowing; and then Willughby, who well describes the bellowing noise of the breeding season, supposes it to be the Night Raven, at whose "deadly voice" the superstitious wayfarer of the night turned pale and trembled. "This, without doubt," writes Willughby, "is that bird our common people call the Night Raven, and have such a dread of, imagining its cry portends no less than their death or the death of some of their near relations; for it flies in the night, answers their description of being like a flagging collar, and hath such a kind of hoopingcry as they talk of." Others, with some reason, consider the Qua Bird already mentioned (which utters a loud and most disagreeable noise when on the wing, conveying the idea of the agonies of a person attempting to vomit) to be the true Night Raven. The Bittern was well known to the ancients, and Aristotle mentions the fable of its origin from staves metamorphosed into birds. The long claw of the hind toe is much prized as a toothpick, and in the olden times it was thought to have the property of preserving the teeth.
The Greater-billed Butcher Bird, from New Holland, has extraordinary powers of voice: it is trained for catching small birds, and it is said to imitate the notes of some other birds by way of decoying them to their destruction.
The mere imitative sounds of Parrots are of little interest compared with the instances of instinct, apparently allied to reason, which are related of individuals. Of this tribe the distinguishing characteristics are a hooked bill, the upper mandible of which is moveable as well as the lower, and not in one piece with the skull, as in most other birds, but joined to the head by a strong membrane, with which the bird lifts it or lets it fall at pleasure. The bill is also round on the outside and hollow within, and has, in some degree, the capacity of a mouth, allowing the tongue, which is thick and fleshy, to play freely; while the sound, striking against the circular border of the lower mandible, reflects it like a palate: hence the animal does not utter a whistlingsound, but a full articulation. The tongue, which modulates all sounds, is proportionally larger than in man.
The Wild Swan has a very loud call, and utters a melancholy cry when one of the flock is killed; hence it was said by the poets to sing its own dying dirge. Such was the popular belief in olden times; and, looking to the anatomical characteristics of the species, it was, in some degree, supported by the more inflated wind-pipe of the wild when compared with that of the tame species. TheSong of the Swanis, however, irreconcileable with sober belief, the only noise of the Wild Swan of our times being unmelodious, and an unpleasing monotony.
The Laughing Goose is named from its note having some resemblance to the laugh of man; and not, as Wilson supposes, from the grinning appearance of its mandibles. The Indians imitate its cry by moving the hand quickly against the lips, whilst they repeat the syllablewah.
The Cuckoo may be said to have done much for musical science, because from that bird has been derived theminor scale, the origin of which has puzzled so many; the Cuckoo's couplet being theminor thirdsung downwards.
The Germans are the finest appreciators of the Nightingale; and it is a fact, that when the Prussian authorities, under pecuniary pressure, were about to cut down certain trees near Cologne, which were frequented by Nightingales, the alarmed citizens purchased the trees in order to save the birds andkeep their music. Yet one would think the music hardly worth having, if it really sounded as it looks upon paper, transcribed thus by Bechstein, from whom it is quoted by Broderip:—
Zozozozozozozozozozozozo zirrhadingHezezezezezezezezezezezezezezeze cowar ho dze hoiHigaigaigaigaigaigaigaigaigaigai, guaiagai coricor dzio dzio pi.[13]
M. Wichterich, of Bonn, remarks:—"It is a vulgar error to suppose that the song of the Nightingale is melancholy, and that it only sings by night. There are two varieties of the Nightingale; one which sings both in the night and the day, and one which sings in the day only."
In the year 1858, Mr. Leigh Sotheby, in a letter to Dr. Gray, of the British Museum, described a marvellous little specimen of the feathered tribe—a Talking Canary. Its parents had previously and successfully reared many young ones, but three years before they hatched onlyoneout of four eggs, the which they immediately neglected, by commencing the rebuilding of a nest on the top of it. Upon this discovery, the unfledged and forsaken bird, all but dead, was taken away and placed in flannel by the fire, when, after much attention, it was restored, and then brought up by hand. Thus treated, and away from all other birds, it became familiarised only with those who fed it; consequently, its first singing notes were of a character totally different to those usual with the Canary.
Constantly being talked to, the bird, when about three months old, astonished its mistress by repeating the endearing terms used in talking to it, such as "Kissie, kissie," with its significant sounds. This went on, and from time to time the little bird repeated other words; and then, for hours together, except during the moulting season, it astonished byringing the changes, according to its own fancy, and as plainly as any human voice could articulate them, on the several words, "Dear sweet Titchie" (its name), "kiss Minnie," "Kiss me, then, dear Minnie." "Sweet pretty little Titchie," "Kissie, kissie, kissie." "Dear Titchie," "Titchie wee, gee, gee, gee, Titchie. Titchie."
The usual singing-notes of the bird were more of the character of the Nightingale, mingled occasionally with the sound of the dog-whistle used about the house. It is hardly necessary to add, that the bird was by nature remarkably tame.
In 1839, a Canary-bird, capable of distinct articulation, was exhibited in Regent-street. The following were some of its sentences:—"Sweet pretty dear," "Sweet pretty dear Dicky," "Mary," "Sweet pretty little Dicky dear;" and often in the course of the day, "Sweet pretty Queen." The bird also imitated the jarring of a wire, the ringing of a bell; it was three years old, and was reared by a lady who never allowed it to be in the company of other birds. This Canary died in October, 1839; it was, it is believed, the only other talking instance publicly known.
We read of some experiments made in the rearingof birds at Kendal by a bird-fancier, the result of which was, that upwards of 20 birds—Canaries. Greenfinches, Linnets, Chaffinches, Titlarks, and Whitethroats—were reared in one cage by a pair of Canaries. The experiments were continued until the extraordinary number of thirty-eight birds had been brought up within two months by the Canaries. It may be worth while to enumerate them.
In the month of June the Canaries—the male green, and the female piebald—were caged for the purpose of breeding. The female laid five eggs, and while she was sitting a Greenfinch egg was introduced into the nest. All of these were hatched, and the day after incubation was completed five Grey Linnets, also newly hatched, were put into the cage, in their own nest. Next day a newly-hatched nest of four Chaffinches was also introduced; and afterwards five different nests, consisting of six Titlarks, six Whitethroats, three Skylarks, three Winchars, and three Blackcaps. While rearing the last of these nests, the female Canary again laid and hatched four eggs, thus making thirty-eight young birds brought up by the pair of Canaries. It will be noticed that most of these birds are soft-billed, whose natural food is small insects; but they took quite kindly to the seeds upon which they were fed by their step-parents. The pair of Canaries fed at one time twenty-one young birds, and never had less than sixteen making demands upon their care; and while the female was hatching her second nest she continued to feed the birds that occupied the other nest.
Of the origin of theneighing soundwhich accompanies the single Snipe's play-flight during pairing-time, opinions are various. Bechstein thought it was produced by means of the beak; Naumann and others, again, that it originated in powerful strokes of the wing. Pratt, in Hanover, observing that the bird makes heard its well-known song or cry, which he expresses with the words, "gick jack, gick jack!" at the same time with theneighing sound, it seemed to be settled that the latter is not produced through the throat. In the meantime, M. Meves, of Stockholm, remarked with surprise, that the humming sound could never be observed whilst the bird was flying upwards, at which time the tail is closed; but only when it was casting itself downwards in a slanting direction, with the tail strongly spread out.
M. Meves has written for the Zoological Society a paper upon the origin of this sound, which all the field-naturalists and sportsmen of England and other countries had, for the previous century, been trying to make out, but had failed to discover. Of this paper the following is an abstract:—
The peculiar form of the tail-feathers in some foreign species nearly allied to our Snipe encouraged the notion that the tail conduced to the production of the sound. M. Meves found the tail-feathers of our common Snipe, in the first feather especially, very peculiarly constructed; the shaft uncommonly stiff and sabre-shaped; the rays of the web strongly bound together and very long, the longest reaching nearly three-fourths of the whole length of the web, these rays lying along or spanning from end to end of the curve of the shaft,like the strings of a musical instrument. If you blowfrom the outer side upon the broad web, it comes into vibration, and a sound is heard, which, though fainter, resembles very closely the well-knownneighing.But to convince yourself fully that it is the first feather which produces the peculiar sound, it is only necessary carefully to pluck out such an one, to fasten its shaft with fine thread to a piece of steel wire a tenth of an inch in diameter, and a foot long, and then to fix this at the end of a four-foot stick. If now you draw the feather, with this outer side forward, sharply through the air, at the same time making some short movements or shakings of the arm, so as to represent the shivering motion of the wings during flight, you produce the neighing sound with the most astonishing exactness.If you wish to hear the humming of both feathers at once, as must be the case from the flying bird, this also can be managed by a simple contrivance. Take a small stick, and fasten at the side of the smaller end a piece of burnt steel wire in the form of a fork; bind to each point a side tail-feather; bend the wire so that the feathers receive the same direction which they do in the spreading of the tail as the bird sinks itself in flight; and then, with this apparatus, draw the feathers through the air as before. Such a sound, but in another tone, is produced when we experiment with the tail-feathers of other kinds of Snipe.Since in both sexes these feathers have the same form, it is clear that both can produce the same humming noise; but as the feathers of the hen are generally less than those of the cock-bird, the noise made by them is not so deep as in the other case.Besides the significance which these tail-feathers have as a kind of musical instrument, their form may give a weighty character in the determination of a species standing very near one another, which have been looked upon as varieties.
The peculiar form of the tail-feathers in some foreign species nearly allied to our Snipe encouraged the notion that the tail conduced to the production of the sound. M. Meves found the tail-feathers of our common Snipe, in the first feather especially, very peculiarly constructed; the shaft uncommonly stiff and sabre-shaped; the rays of the web strongly bound together and very long, the longest reaching nearly three-fourths of the whole length of the web, these rays lying along or spanning from end to end of the curve of the shaft,like the strings of a musical instrument. If you blowfrom the outer side upon the broad web, it comes into vibration, and a sound is heard, which, though fainter, resembles very closely the well-knownneighing.
But to convince yourself fully that it is the first feather which produces the peculiar sound, it is only necessary carefully to pluck out such an one, to fasten its shaft with fine thread to a piece of steel wire a tenth of an inch in diameter, and a foot long, and then to fix this at the end of a four-foot stick. If now you draw the feather, with this outer side forward, sharply through the air, at the same time making some short movements or shakings of the arm, so as to represent the shivering motion of the wings during flight, you produce the neighing sound with the most astonishing exactness.
If you wish to hear the humming of both feathers at once, as must be the case from the flying bird, this also can be managed by a simple contrivance. Take a small stick, and fasten at the side of the smaller end a piece of burnt steel wire in the form of a fork; bind to each point a side tail-feather; bend the wire so that the feathers receive the same direction which they do in the spreading of the tail as the bird sinks itself in flight; and then, with this apparatus, draw the feathers through the air as before. Such a sound, but in another tone, is produced when we experiment with the tail-feathers of other kinds of Snipe.
Since in both sexes these feathers have the same form, it is clear that both can produce the same humming noise; but as the feathers of the hen are generally less than those of the cock-bird, the noise made by them is not so deep as in the other case.
Besides the significance which these tail-feathers have as a kind of musical instrument, their form may give a weighty character in the determination of a species standing very near one another, which have been looked upon as varieties.
This interesting discovery was first announced by M. Meves in an account of the birds observed by himself during a visit to the Island of Gottland, inthe summer of the year 1856, which narrative was published at Stockholm in the following winter. In the succeeding summer, M. Meves showed his experiments to Mr. Wolley, whose services to Ornithology we have already noticed. The mysterious noise of the wilderness was reproduced in a little room in the middle of Stockholm: first, the deep bleat, now shown to proceed from the male Snipe, and then the fainter bleat of the female, both most strikingly true to nature, neither producible with any other feathers than the outer ones of the tail.
Mr. Wolley inquired of Mr. Meves how, issuing forth from the town on a summer ramble, he came to discover what had puzzled the wits and strained the eyes of so many observers. He freely explained how, in a number of "Naumannia," an accidental misprint of the word representing tail-feathers instead of wing-feathers,—a mistake which another author ridiculed—first led him to think on the subject. He subsequently examined in the Museum at Stockholm the tail-feathers of various species of Snipe, remarked their structure, and reasoned upon it. Then he blew upon them, and fixed them on levers that he might wave them with greater force through the air; and at the same time he made more careful observation than he had hitherto done in the living birds. In short, in him the obscure hint was thrown upon fruitful ground, whilst in a hundred other minds it had failed to come to light.
Dr. Walsh saw at Constantinople a Woodpecker, about the size of a Thrush, which was very activein devouring flies, and tapped woodwork with his bill with a noiseas loud as that of a hammer, to disturb the insects concealed therein, so as to seize upon them when they appeared.
Among remarkable bird services should not be forgotten those of the Trochilos to the Crocodile. "When the Crocodile," says Herodotus, "feeds in the Nile, the inside of his mouth is always covered withbdella(a term which the translators have rendered by that ofleech). All birds,except one, fly from the Crocodile; but this one bird, theTrochilos, on the contrary, flies towards him with the greatest eagerness, and renders him a very great service; for every time that the Crocodile comes to the land to sleep, and when he lies stretched out with his jaws open, the Trochilos enters and establishes himself in his mouth, and frees him from the bdella which he finds there. The Crocodile is grateful, and never does any harm to the little bird who performs for him this office."
This passage was long looked upon as a pleasant story, and nothing more; until M. Geoffroy St. Hilaire, during his long residence in Egypt, ascertained the story of Herodotus to be correct in substance, but inexact in details. It is perfectly true that a little bird does exist, which flies incessantly from place to place, searching everywhere, even in the Crocodile's mouth, for the insects which form the principal part of its nourishment. This bird is seen everywhere on the banks of the Nile, and M. Geoffroy has proved it to be of a species alreadydescribed by Hasselquist, and very like the small winged Plover. If the Trochilos be in reality the little Plover, the bdella cannot be leeches, (which do not exist in the running waters of the Nile) but the small insects known asgnatsin Europe. Myriads of these insects dance upon the Nile: they attack the Crocodile upon the inner surface of his palate, and sting the orifice of the glands, which are numerous in the Crocodile's mouth. Then the little Plover, who follows him everywhere, delivers him from these troublesome enemies; and that without any danger to himself, for the Crocodile is always careful, when he is going to shut his mouth, to make some motion which warns the little bird to fly away. At St. Domingo there is a Crocodile which very nearly resembles that of Egypt. This Crocodile is attacked by gnats, from which he would have no means of delivering himself (his tongue, like that of the Crocodile, being fixed) if a bird of a particular species did not give him the same assistance that the Crocodile of the Nile receives from the little Plover. These facts explain the passage in Herodotus, and demonstrate that the animal, there called bdella, is not a leech, but a flying insect similar to our gnat.
Exemplifications of instinct, intelligence, and reason in Birds are by no means rare, but this distinction must be made: instinctive actions are dependent on the nerves, intelligence on the brain; but that which constitutes peculiar qualities of the mind in man has no material organ. The Rev. Mr.Statham has referred to the theory of the facial angle as indicative of the amount of sagacity observable in the animal race, but has expressed his opinion that the theory is utterly at fault in the case of Birds; many of these having a very acute facial angle being considerably more intelligent than others having scarcely any facial angle at all. Size also seems to present another anomaly between the two races of Beasts and Birds; for while the Elephant and the Horse are among the most distinguished of quadrupeds for sagacity and instinct, the larger Birds seem scarcely comparable to the smaller ones in the possession of these attributes. The writer instances this by comparing the Ostrich and the Goose with the Wren, the Robin, the Canary, the Pigeon, and the Crow; and amusingly alludes to the holding of parliaments or convocations of birds of the last species, while the Ostrich is characterised in Scripture as the type of folly.
The author then refers to the poisoning of two young Blackbirds by the parent birds, when they found that they could neither liberate them nor permanently share their captivity. The two fledglings had been taken from a Blackbirds' nest in Surrey-square, and had been placed in a room looking over a garden, in a wicker cage. For some time the old birds attended to their wants, visited them regularly, and fed them with appropriate food; but, at last, getting wearied of the task, or despairing of effecting their liberation, they appear to have poisoned them. They were both found suddenly dead onemorning, shortly after having been seen in good health; and on opening their bodies a small leaf, supposed to be that ofSolanum Nigrum, was found in the stomach of each. The old birds immediately deserted the spot, as though aware of the nefarious deed befitting their name.
As an exemplification of instinct Dr. Horner states that Rooks built on the Infirmary trees at Hull, but never over the street. One year, however, a young couple ventured to build here: for eight mornings in succession the old Rooks proceeded to destroy the nest, when at last the young ones chose a more fitting place.
Mr. A. Strickland, having referred to the tendency of birds to build their nests of materials of a colour resembling that around such nests, relates an instance in which the Fly-catcher built in a red brick wall, and used for the nest mahogany shavings. Referring to the meeting of Rooks for judicial purposes. Mr. Strickland states that he once saw a Rook tried in this way, and ultimately killed by the rest.
Although nearly half a century has elapsed since the following observations were communicated to the Royal Society by Dr. Jenner, their expressive character is as charming as ever, and their accuracy as valuable:—
"There is a beautiful propriety in the order in which Singing Birds fill up the day with their pleasing harmony. The accordance between their songs, and the aspect of natureat the successive periods of the day at which they sing, is so remarkable that one cannot but suppose it to be the result of benevolent design."From theRobin(not theLark, as has been generally imagined), as soon as twilight has drawn its imperceptible line between night and day, begins his artless song. How sweetly does this harmonize with the soft dawning of the day! He goes on till the twinkling sunbeams begin to tell him that his notes no longer accord with the rising sun. Up starts theLark, and with him a variety of sprightly songsters, whose lively notes are in perfect correspondence with the gaiety of the morning. The general warbling continues, with now and then an interruption by the transient croak of theRaven, the scream of theJay, or the pert chattering of theDaw. TheNightingale, unwearied by the vocal exertions of the night, joins his inferiors in sound in the general harmony. TheThrushis wisely placed on the summit of some lofty tree, that its piercing notes may be softened by distance before it reaches the ear, while the mellowBlackbirdseeks the lower branches."Should the sun, having been eclipsed by a cloud, shine forth with fresh effulgence, how frequently we see theGoldfinchperch on some blossomed bough, and hear his song poured forth in a strain peculiarly energetic; while the sun, full shining on his beautiful plumes, displays his golden wings and crimson crest to charming advantage. Indeed, a burst of sunshine in a cloudy day, or after a heavy shower, seems always to wake up a new gladness in the little musicians, and invite them to an answering burst of minstrelsy."As evening advances, the performers gradually retire, and the concert softly dies away. At sunset theRobinagain sends up his twilight song, till the still more serene hour of night sends him to his bower of rest. And now, in unison with the darkened earth and sky, no sooner is the voice of theRobinhushed, than theOwlsends forth his slow and solemn tones, well adapted to the serious hour."
"There is a beautiful propriety in the order in which Singing Birds fill up the day with their pleasing harmony. The accordance between their songs, and the aspect of natureat the successive periods of the day at which they sing, is so remarkable that one cannot but suppose it to be the result of benevolent design.
"From theRobin(not theLark, as has been generally imagined), as soon as twilight has drawn its imperceptible line between night and day, begins his artless song. How sweetly does this harmonize with the soft dawning of the day! He goes on till the twinkling sunbeams begin to tell him that his notes no longer accord with the rising sun. Up starts theLark, and with him a variety of sprightly songsters, whose lively notes are in perfect correspondence with the gaiety of the morning. The general warbling continues, with now and then an interruption by the transient croak of theRaven, the scream of theJay, or the pert chattering of theDaw. TheNightingale, unwearied by the vocal exertions of the night, joins his inferiors in sound in the general harmony. TheThrushis wisely placed on the summit of some lofty tree, that its piercing notes may be softened by distance before it reaches the ear, while the mellowBlackbirdseeks the lower branches.
"Should the sun, having been eclipsed by a cloud, shine forth with fresh effulgence, how frequently we see theGoldfinchperch on some blossomed bough, and hear his song poured forth in a strain peculiarly energetic; while the sun, full shining on his beautiful plumes, displays his golden wings and crimson crest to charming advantage. Indeed, a burst of sunshine in a cloudy day, or after a heavy shower, seems always to wake up a new gladness in the little musicians, and invite them to an answering burst of minstrelsy.
"As evening advances, the performers gradually retire, and the concert softly dies away. At sunset theRobinagain sends up his twilight song, till the still more serene hour of night sends him to his bower of rest. And now, in unison with the darkened earth and sky, no sooner is the voice of theRobinhushed, than theOwlsends forth his slow and solemn tones, well adapted to the serious hour."
[12]The popular name of this bird is theUmbrella Bird. On its head it bears a crest, different from that of any other bird. It is formed of feathers more than two inches long, very thickly set, and with hairy plumes curving over at the end. These can be laid back so as to be hardly visible, or can be erected and spread out on every side, forming a dome completely covering the head, and even reaching beyond the point of the beak; the individual feathers then stand out something like the down-bearing seeds of the dandelion. Besides this, there is another ornamental appendage on the breast, formed by a fleshy tubercle, as thick as a quill and an inch and a-half long, which hangs down from the neck, and is thickly covered with glossy feathers, forming a large pendent plume or tassel. This, also, the bird can either press to its breast, so as to be scarcely visible, or can swell out so as almost to conceal the forepart of its body.[13]"Athenæum," No. 1467.
[12]The popular name of this bird is theUmbrella Bird. On its head it bears a crest, different from that of any other bird. It is formed of feathers more than two inches long, very thickly set, and with hairy plumes curving over at the end. These can be laid back so as to be hardly visible, or can be erected and spread out on every side, forming a dome completely covering the head, and even reaching beyond the point of the beak; the individual feathers then stand out something like the down-bearing seeds of the dandelion. Besides this, there is another ornamental appendage on the breast, formed by a fleshy tubercle, as thick as a quill and an inch and a-half long, which hangs down from the neck, and is thickly covered with glossy feathers, forming a large pendent plume or tassel. This, also, the bird can either press to its breast, so as to be scarcely visible, or can swell out so as almost to conceal the forepart of its body.
[13]"Athenæum," No. 1467.
Letter T
THESEnocturnal birds of prey have large heads and great projecting eyes, directing forwards, and surrounded with a circle of loose and delicate feathers, more or less developed, according to the nocturnal or comparatively diurnal habits of the species. The position of the eyes, giving a particular fulness and breadth to the head, has gained for the Owl the intellectual character so universally awarded to it. The concave facial disc of feathers with which they are surrounded materially aids vision by concentrating the rays of light to an intensity better suited to the opacity of the medium in which power is required to be exercised. "They may be compared," says Mr. Yarrell, "to a person near-sighted, who sees objects with superior magnitude and brilliancy when within the prescribed limits of his natural powers of vision, from the increased angle these objects subtend." Their beaks are completely curved, or raptorial; they have the power of turning the outer toe eitherbackwards or forwards; they fly weakly, and near the ground; but, from their soft plumage, stealthily, stretching out their hind legs that they may balance their large and heavy heads. Their sense of hearing is very acute: they not only look, but listen for prey.
The Owl is a bird of mystery and gloom, and a special favourite with plaintive poets. We find him with Ariel:—
"There I couch when Owls do cry."
"There I couch when Owls do cry."
"There I couch when Owls do cry."
He figures in the nursery rhyme of "Cock Robin." In reply to "Who dug his grave?"—
"I, says the Owl, with my little shovel—I dug his grave."
"I, says the Owl, with my little shovel—I dug his grave."
"I, says the Owl, with my little shovel—
I dug his grave."
He hoots over graves, and his dismal note adds to the terror of darkness:—
"'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,And the Owls have awakened the crowing cock;Tu-whit! tu-whoo!And hark again the crowing cock,How drowsily it crew.. . . . . . . . ."When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,Then nightly sings the staring Owl,Tu-whoo!Tu-whit! tu-whoo!a merry note,While greasy Joan doth keel the pot!"
"'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,And the Owls have awakened the crowing cock;Tu-whit! tu-whoo!And hark again the crowing cock,How drowsily it crew.. . . . . . . . ."When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,Then nightly sings the staring Owl,Tu-whoo!Tu-whit! tu-whoo!a merry note,While greasy Joan doth keel the pot!"
"'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,
And the Owls have awakened the crowing cock;
Tu-whit! tu-whoo!
And hark again the crowing cock,
How drowsily it crew.
. . . . . . . . .
"When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring Owl,
Tu-whoo!
Tu-whit! tu-whoo!a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot!"
Titania sings of
"The clamorous Owl, that nightly hoots and wondersAt our quaint spirits."
"The clamorous Owl, that nightly hoots and wondersAt our quaint spirits."
"The clamorous Owl, that nightly hoots and wonders
At our quaint spirits."
Bishop Hall has this "Occasional Meditation" upon the sight of an Owl in the twilight:—"What a strange melancholic life doth this creature lead; to hide her head all the day long in an ivy-bush, and at night, when all other birds are at rest, to fly abroad and vent her harsh notes. I know not why the ancients havesacredthis bird to wisdom, except it be for her safe closeness and singular perspicuity; that when other domestrial and airy creatures are blind, she only hath insured light to discern the least objects for her own advantage." We may here note that Linnæus, with many other naturalists and antiquaries, have supposed the Horned Owl to have been the bird of Minerva; but Blumenbach has shown, from the ancient works of Grecian art, that it was not this, but rather some smooth-headed species, probably thePasserina, or Little Owl.
The divine has, in the above passage, overstated the melancholy of the Owl; as has also the poet, who sings:—
"From yonder ivy-mantled towerThe moping Owl does to the moon complainOf such as, wandering near her secret bower,Molest her ancient solitary reign."
"From yonder ivy-mantled towerThe moping Owl does to the moon complainOf such as, wandering near her secret bower,Molest her ancient solitary reign."
"From yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping Owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign."
Shakspeare more accurately terms her "the mousing Owl," for her nights are spent in barns, or in hunting and devouring sparrows in the churchyard elms. "Moping, indeed!" says a pleasing observer. "So far from this, she is a sprightly, active ranger of the night, who had as lief sit on agrave as a rose-bush; who is as valiant a hunter as Nimroud, chasing all sorts of game, from the dormouse to the hare and the young lamb, and devouring them, while her mate hoots to her from some picturesque ruin, and invites her, when supper is over, to return to him and her babes."
But the tricks of the Owl by night render her the terror of all other birds, great and small. In Northern Italy, persons in rustic districts which are well wooded, catch and tame an Owl, put a light chain upon her legs, and then place her on a small cross-bar on the top of a high pole, which is fixed in the earth. Half-blinded by the light, the defenceless captive has to endure patiently the jeers and insults of the dastardly tribes from the surrounding groves and thickets, who issue in clouds to scream, chirp, and flit about their enemy. Some, trusting to the swiftness of their wings, sweep close by, and peck at her feathers as they pass, and are sometimes punished by the Owl with her formidable beak for their audacity. Meanwhile, from darkened windows, sportsmen, with fowling-pieces well charged with shot, fire at the hosts of birds, wheeling, shrieking, screaming, and thickening around the Owl. All the guns are fired at once, and the grass is strewn for many yards round with the slain; while the Owl, whom they have been careful not to hit, utters a joyous whoo! whoo! at the fate of her persecutors.
Major Head thus describes theBiscacho, or Coquimbo, a curious species of Owl, found all over thepampas of South America:—"Like rabbits, they live in holes, which are in groups in every direction. These animals are never seen in the day, but as soon as the lower limb of the sun reaches the horizon, they are seen issuing from the holes. The Biscachos, when full-grown, are nearly as big as badgers, but their head resembles a rabbit's, except that they have large bushy whiskers. In the evening they sit outside the holes, and they all appear to be moralizing. They are the most serious-looking animals I ever saw; and even the young ones are grey-headed, wear moustachios, and look thoughtful and grave. In the daytime their holes are guarded by two little owls, which are never an instant away from their posts. As one gallops by these owls, they always stand looking at the stranger, and then at each other, moving their old-fashioned heads in a manner which is quite ridiculous, until one rushes by them, when they get the better of their dignified looks, and they both run into the Biscacho's hole."
Of all birds of prey, Owls are the most useful to man, by protecting his corn-fields, or granaried provision, from mice and numberless vermin. Yet, prejudice has perverted these birds into objects of superstition and consequent hate. The kind-hearted Mr. Waterton says:—"I wish that any little thing I could write or say might cause this bird to stand better with the world at large than it has hitherto done; but I have slender hope on this score, because old and deep-rooted prejudices are seldom overcome; and when I look back into annals of remote antiquity,I see too clearly that defamation has done its worst to ruin the whole family, in all its branches, of this poor, harmless, useful friend of mine."
The Barn Owl is common throughout Europe, known in Tartary, and rare in the United States of America. In England it is called the Barn Owl, the Church Owl, Gillihowlet, and Screech Owl; the last name is improperly applied, as it is believed not to hoot, though Sir William Jardine asserts that he has shot it in the act of hooting. To the screech superstition has annexed ideas of fatal portent; "but," says Charlotte Smith, "it has, of course, no more foreknowledge of approaching evil to man than the Lark: its cry is a signal to its absent mate."
"If," says Mr. Waterton, "this useful bird caught its food by day instead of hunting for it by night, mankind would have ocular demonstration of its utility in thinning the country of mice; and it would be protected and encouraged everywhere. It would be with us what the Ibis was with the Egyptians. When it has young, it will bring a mouse to the nest every twelve or fifteen minutes." Mr. Waterton saw his Barn Owl fly away with a rat which he had just shot; he also saw her drop perpendicularly into the water, and presently rise out of it with a fish in her claws, which she took to her nest.
Birds and quadrupeds, and even fish, are the food of Owls, according to the size of the species. Hares, partridges, grouse, and even the turkey, are attacked by the larger Horned Owls of Europe and America; while mice, shrews, small birds, and crabs suffice forthe inferior strength of the smaller Owls. Mr. Yarrell states that the Short-eared Owl is the only bird of prey in which he ever found the remains of a bat.
William Bullock reports that a large Snowy Owl, wounded on the Isle of Baltoc, disgorged a young rabbit; and that one in his possession had in its stomach a sandpiper with its feathers entire. It preys on lemmings, hares, and birds, particularly the willow-grouse and ptarmigan. It is a dexterous fisher, grasping the fish with an instantaneous stroke of the foot as it sails along near the surface of the water, or sits on a stone in a shallow stream. It has been seen on the wing pursuing an American hare, making repeated strokes at the animal with its foot. In winter, when this Owl is fat, the Indians and white residents in the Fur Countries esteem it to be good eating; its flesh is delicately white. Small snakes are the common prey of this Owl during the daytime. And to show on what various kinds of food Owls subsist, Mr. Darwin states that a species that was killed among the islets of the Chonos Archipelago had its stomach full of good-sized crabs. Such are a few of the facts which attest the almost omnivorous appetite of the Owl.
The flight of the Snowy Owl is stronger and swifter than any other bird of the family; its ears are very large; its voice (says Pennant) adds horror even to the regions of Greenland by its hideous cries, resembling those of a man in deep distress. The eye is very curious, being immovably fixed in its socket, so that the bird, to view different objects, mustalways turn its head; and so excellently is the neck adapted to this purpose, that it can with ease turn the head round in almost a complete circle, without moving the body. The Virginian Eagle-Owl, amidst the forests of Indiana, utters a loud and suddenWough O! wough O!sufficient to alarm a whole garrison; another of its nocturnal cries resembles the half-suppressed screams of a person being suffocated or throttled.
The Javanese Owl is found in the closest forests, and occasionally near villages and dwellings. Dr. Horsfield says:—"It is not, however, a favourite with the natives; various superstitious notions are also in Java associated with its visits; and it is considered in many parts of the island as portending evil." One of this species never visits the villages, but resides in the dense forests, which are the usual resort of the tiger. The natives even assert that theWowo-wiwiapproaches the animal with the same familiarity with which the jallack approaches the buffalo, and that it has no dread to alight on the tiger's back. Dr. Horsfield adds, that it has never been seen in confinement.
The Boobook Owl has the native name of Buck-buck, and it may be heard in Australia every night during winter, uttering a cry corresponding with that word. The note is somewhat similar to that of the EuropeanCuckoo, and the colonists have given it that name. The lower order of settlers in New South Wales are led away by the idea that everything is the reverse in that country to what it is inEngland; and theCuckoo, as they call this bird, singing by night, is one of the instances which they point out.
Tame Owls are described as nearly as playful, and quite as affectionate, as kittens; they will perch upon your wrist, touch your lips with their beak, and hoot to order; and they are less inclined to leave their friends than other tame birds. A writer in "Chambers's Journal" relates, that a friend lost his favourite Owl, which flew away, and was absent many days. In time, however, he came back, and resumed his habits and duties, which, for a while, went on uninterruptedly. At length, one severe autumn, he disappeared; weeks, months passed, and he returned not. One snowy night, however, as his master sat by the blazing fire, some heavy thing came bump against the shutters. "Whoo, whoo, whoo." The window was opened, and in flew the Owl, shaking the thick snow from his wings, and settling lovingly on his master's wrist, the bird's eyes dilating with delight.
The Owls at Arundel Castle have a sort of historic interest; they are kept within the circuit of the keep-tower, the most ancient and picturesque portion of the castle. Among the Australian Owls here we read of one larger than a turkey, measuring four feet across the wings when expanded. The Owl named "Lord Thurlow," from his resemblance to that Judge, is a striking specimen.
The accompanying illustration shows a fine specimen of Fraser's Eagle-Owl, brought from FernandoPo. It is the size of an ordinary fowl; colour, very dark reddish-brown mottling; back and wings passing through all shades of the same colour into nearly white on the under parts, where the feathers are barred; bill, pale greenish; eyes, nearly black.
FRASER'S EAGLE-OWL, FROM FERNANDO PO.
FRASER'S EAGLE-OWL, FROM FERNANDO PO.
Among the Owls but recently described is the Masked Owl of New Holland, named from the markings of the disk of the face, somewhat grotesque; the colours are brown variegated with white. A fine specimen of the Abyssinian Owl is possessed by Mr. R. Good, of Yeovil: the bird, although quite young, is of immense size.
Lastly, the Owl is thought to be of the same sympathy or kindred likings as the Cat: a young Owl will feed well, and thrive upon fish. Cats, too, it is well known, like fish. Both the Cat and the Owl, too, feed upon mice. The sight of Owls, also, similar to that of Cats, appears to serve them best in the dark.
Letter W
WHATEVERmay be the worth of weather prognostications, it is from the animal kingdom that we obtain the majority. How these creatures become so acutely sensible of the approach of particular kinds of weather is not at present well understood. That in many cases the appearance of the heavens is not the source from which their information is derived is proved by the signs of uneasiness frequently expressed by them when, as yet, the most attentive observer can detect no signs of change, and even when they are placed in such circumstances as preclude the possibility of any instruction from this quarter. For instance. Dogs, closely confined in a room, often become very drowsy and stupid before rain; and a leech, confined in a glass of water, has been found, by its rapid motions or its quiescence, to indicate the approach of wet or the return of fair weather. Probably the altered condition of the atmosphere with regard to its electricity, which generally accompanies changeof weather, may so affect their constitution as to excite in them pleasurable or uneasy sensations; though man is far from insensible to atmospheric changes, as the feelings of utter listlessness which many persons experience before rain, and the aggravated severity of toothache, headache, and rheumatism abundantly testify. The Cat licking itself is a special influence of the above electric influence, which denotes the approach of rain.
Birds, as "denizens of the air," are the surest indicators of weather changes. Thus, when swallows fly high, fine weather is to be expected or continued; but when they fly low, or close to the ground, rain is almost surely approaching; for swallows follow the flies and gnats, which delight in warm strata of air. Now, as warm air is lighter, and usually moister than cold air, when the warm strata of air are high there is less chance of moisture being thrown down from them by their mixture with cold air; but when the warm and moist air is close to the surface, it is almost certain that, as the cold air flows down into it, a deposition of water will take place.
When Seagulls assemble on the land, very stormy and rainy weather is approaching. The cause of this migration to the land is the security of these birds finding food; and they may be observed at this time feeding greedily on the earth-worms and larvæ driven out of the ground by severe floods; whilst the fish on which they prey in fine weather in the sea, leave the surface, and go deeper instorms. The search after food is the principal cause why animals change their places. The different tribes of the wading birds always migrate when rain is about to take place.
There is a bird which takes its name from its apparent agency in tempests. Such is the Stormy Petrel, which name Hawkesworth, in his "Voyages," mentions the sailors give to the bird, but explains no further. Navigators meet with the Little Petrel, or Storm Finch, in every part of the ocean, diving, running on foot, or skimming over the highest waves. It seems to foresee the coming storm long ere the seamen can discover any signs of its approach. The Petrels make this known by congregating together under the wake of the vessel, as if to shelter themselves, and they thus warn the mariner of the coming danger. At night they set up a piercing cry. This usefulness of the bird to the sailor is the obvious cause of the latter having such an objection to their being killed.
Mr. Knapp, the naturalist, thus pictures gulls, describing the Petrel's action:—"They seem to repose in a common breeze, but upon the approach or during the continuation of a gale, they surround the ship, and catch up the small animals which the agitated ocean brings near the surface, or any food that may be dropped from the vessel. Whisking like an arrow through the deep valleys of the abyss, and darting away over the foaming crest of some mountain-wave, they attend the labouring barque inall her perilous course. When the storm subsides they retire to rest, and are seen no more."
Our sailors have, from very early times, called these birds "Mother Carey's Chickens," originally bestowed on them, Mr. Yarrell tells us, by Captain Cartaret's sailors, probably from some celebrated ideal hag of the above name. Mr. Yarrell adds:—"As these birds are supposed to be seen only before stormy weather, they are not welcome visitors," a view at variance with that already suggested.
The Editor of "Notes and Queries" considers the Petrels to have been calledchickensfrom their diminutive size. The largest sort, "the Giant Petrel," is "Mother Carey'sGoose;" its length is forty inches, and it expands seven feet. The common kind are about the size of a swallow, and weigh something over an ounce; length, six inches; expansion, thirteen inches; these are Mother Carey'schickens(Latham). It should be borne in mind that our language does not restrict the term chickens to young birds of the gallinaceous class.
The Missel-bird is another bird of this kind: in Hampshire and Sussex it is called theStorm Cock, because it sings early in the spring, in blowing, showery weather.
Petrels, by the way, are used by the inhabitants of the Faroe Islands as lamps: they pass a wick through their bodies which, when lighted, burns a long time from the quantity of fat they contain.
The Fulmar Petrel, in Boothia, follows the whale-ships, availing itself of the labours of the fishermenby feeding on the carcases of the whales when stripped of their blubber. In return the bird is exceedingly useful to the whalers by guiding them to the places where whales are most numerous, and crowding to the spots where they first appear on the surface of the water.
Wild Geese and Ducks are unquestionably weather-wise, for their early arrival from the north in the winter portends that a severe season is approaching; because their early appearance is most likely caused by severe frost having already set in at their usual summer residence. The Rev. F. O. Morris, the well-known writer on natural history, records from Nunburnholme, Yorkshire. December 5, 1864:—"This season, for the first time I have lived here, I have missed seeing the flocks of Wild Geese which in the autumnal months have heretofore wended their way overhead, year after year, as regularly as the dusk of the evening came on. Almost to the minute, and almost in the same exact course, they have flown over aloft from the feeding-places on the Wolds to their resting-places for the night; some, perhaps, to extensive commons, while others have turned off to the mud-banks of the Humber, whence they have returned with equal regularity in the morning.
"But this year I have seen not only not a single flock, but not even a single bird. One evening one of my daughters did indeed see a small flock of six, but even that small number only once. Whether it portends a very hard winter, or what the cause ofit may be, I am utterly at a loss to know or even to guess. I quite miss this year the well-known cackle of the old gander as he has led the van of the flock that has followed him; now in a wide, now in a narrow, now in a short, now in a long wedge, over head, diverging just from the father of the family, or separating from time to time further back in the line.
"I may add, as a possible prognostication of future weather, that fieldfares have, I think, been unusually numerous this year, as last year they were the contrary. I have also remarked that swallows took their departure this year more than ordinarily in a body, very few stragglers being subsequently seen."
It will be sufficient to state that the mean temperature of January and February was below that of the same month in the preceding year, and that of March had not been so low for twenty years.
The opinion that sea-birds come to land in order to avoid an approaching storm is stated to be erroneous; and the cause assigned is, that as the fish upon which the birds prey go deep into the water during storms, the birds come to land merely on account of the greater certainty of finding food there than out at sea.
We add a few notes on Bird naturalists. The Redbreast has been calledthe Naturalist's Barometer. When on a summer evening, though it be unsettled and rainy, he sings cheerfully and sweetly on a lofty twig or housetop, it is an unerring promise of succeedingfine days. Sometimes, though the atmosphere be dry and warm, he may be seen melancholy chirping and brooding in a bush or low in a hedge; this promises the reverse. In the luxuriant forests of Brazil the Toucan may be heard rattling with his large hollow beak, as he sits on the outermost branches, calling in plaintive notes for rain.
When Mr. Loudon was at Schwetzingen, Rhenish Bavaria, in 1829, he witnessed in the post-house there for the first time what he afterwards frequently saw—an amusing application of zoological knowledge for the purpose of prognosticating the weather. Two tree-frogs were kept in a crystal jar about eighteen inches high and six inches in diameter, with a depth of three or four inches of water at the bottom, and a small ladder reaching to the top of the jar. On the approach of dry weather the frogs mounted the ladder, but when moisture was expected they descended into the water. These animals are of a bright green, and in their wild state climb the trees in search of insects, and make a peculiar singing noise before rain. In the jar they got no other food than now and then a fly; one of which, Mr. Loudon was assured, would serve a frog for a week, though it would eat from six to twelve flies in a day if it could get them. In catching the flies put alive into the jar the frogs displayed great adroitness.
Snails are extraordinary indicators of changes in the weather. Several years ago, Mr. Thomas, of Cincinnati, known as an accredited observer ofnatural phenomena, published some interesting accounts of Weather-wise Snails. They do not drink (he observes), but imbibe moisture in their bodies during rain, and exude it at regular periods afterwards. Then a certain snail first exudes the pure liquid; when this is exhausted, a light red succeeds, then a deep red, next yellow, and lastly a dark brown. The snail is very careful not to exude more of its moisture than is necessary. It is never seen abroadexcept before rain, when we find it ascending the bark of trees and getting on the leaves. The tree-snail is also seen ascending the stems of plantstwo days before rain: if it be a long and hard rain they get on the sheltered side of the leaf, but if a short rain the outside of the leaf. Another snail has the same habits, but differs only in colour: before rain it is yellow, and after it blue. Others show signs of rain, not only by means of exuding fluids, but by means of pores and protuberances; and the bodies of some snails have large tubercles rising from thembefore rain. These tubercles commence showing themselves ten days previous to the fall of rain they indicate; at the end of each of these tubercles is a pore; and at the time of the fall of rain these tubercles, with their pores opened, are stretched to their utmost to receive the water. In another kind of snail, a few days before rain appears a large and deep indentation, beginning at the head between the horns, and ending with the jointure at the shells. Other snails, a few days before the rain, crawl to themost exposed hill-side, where, if they arrive before the rain descends, they seek some crevice in the rocks, and then close the aperture of the shell with glutinous substance; this, when the rain approaches, they dissolve, and are then seen crawling about.
Our Cincinnati observer mentions three kinds of snails which move along at the rate of a mile in forty-four hours; they inhabit the most dense forests, and it is regarded as a sure indication of rain to observe them moving towards an exposed situation. Others indicate the weather not only by exuding fluids, but by the colour of the animal. After rain the snail has a very dark appearance, but it grows of a bright colour as the water is expended; whilst just before rain it is of yellowish white colour, also just before rain streaks appear from the point of the head to the jointure of the shell. These snails move at the rate of a mile in fourteen days and sixteen hours. If they are observed ascending a cliff it is a sure indication of rain: they live in the cavities of the sides of cliffs. There is also a snail which is brown, tinged with blue on the edges before rain, but black after rain: a few days before appears an indentation, which grows deeper as the rain approaches.
The leaves of trees are even good barometers: most of them for a short, light rain, will turn up so as to receive their fill of water; but for a long rain they are doubled, so as to conduct the water away. The Frog and Toad are sure indicators ofrain; for, as they do not drink water but absorb it into their bodies, they are sure to be found out at the time they expect rain. The Locust and Grasshopper are also good indicators of a storm; a few hours before rain they are to be found under the leaves of trees and in the hollow trunks.
The Mole has long been recorded as a prognosticator of change of weather, before which it becomes very active. The temperature or dryness of the air governs its motions as to the depth at which it lives or works. This is partly from its inability to bear cold or thirst, but chiefly from its being necessitated to follow its natural food, the earth-worm, which always descends as the cold or drought increases. In frosty weather both worms and moles are deeper in the ground than at other times; and both seem to be sensible of an approaching change to warmer weather before there are any perceptible signs of it in the atmosphere. When it is observed, therefore, that Moles are casting hills through openings in the frozen turf or through a thin covering of snow, a change to open weather may be shortly expected. The cause of this appears to be—the natural heat of the earth being for a time pent in by the frozen surface accumulates below it; first incites to action the animals, thaws the frozen surface, and at length escapes into the air, which is warm, and softens; and if not counterbalanced by a greater degree of cold in the atmosphere brings about a change, such as from frosty to mild weather. The Mole is most active and casts up most earthimmediately before rain, and in the winter before a thaw, because at those times the worms and insects begin to be in motion, and approach the surface.
Forster, the indefatigable meteorologist, has assembled some curious observations on certain animals, who, by some peculiar sensibility to electrical or other atmospheric influence, often indicate changes of the weather by their peculiar motions and habits. Thus:—
Ants.—An universal bustle and activity observed in ant-hills may be generally regarded as a sign of rain: the Ants frequently appear all in motion together, and carry their eggs about from place to place. This is remarked by Virgil, Pliny, and others.
Asses.—When donkeys bray more than ordinarily, especially should they shake their ears, as if uneasy, it is said to predict rain, and particularly showers. Forster noticed that in showery weather a donkey brayed before every shower, and generally some minutes before the rain fell, as if some electrical influence, produced by the concentrating power of the approaching rain-cloud, caused a tickling in the wind-pipe of the animal just before the shower came on. Whatever this electric state of the air preceding a shower may be, it seems to be the same that causes in other animals some peculiar sensations, which makes the peacock squall, the pintado call "come back," &c. An expressive adage says:—