CUCKOO
From numerous observations made by competent naturalists in different localities, it appears that the usual time of arrival of the Cuckoo in this country is between the 20th and 27th of April, and the average date of its appearance may be said to be the 23rd of that month, St. George’s Day. In no instance, so far as I am aware, has the bird been heard or seen before the 6th of April. On that date in 1872it was observed at Torquay, but this was considered by my informant an unusually early date at which to meet with it.
Between April and the end of August, it may be found generally distributed throughout the British Islands, even as far north as Orkney and Shetland. It is also a well-known visitor to the Outer Hebrides. On the European continent it occurs throughout Scandinavia and Russia, and is found in all the countries southward to the Mediterranean, which it crosses in the autumn for the purpose of wintering in North Africa. Eastward it extends through Turkey, Asia Minor, and Persia, to India, and according to Horsfield and Temminck, visits even Java and Japan.[97]
The Cuckoo does not pair, but is polygamous.It is not unusual, soon after their arrival, to see a couple of male birds chasing a hen. The first eggs are seldom laid before the middle of May, or not until the birds have been here three weeks or a month. The egg, which is about equal in size to that of the Skylark, is very small, considering the bulk of the bird which lays it. It is white, closely freckled over with grey, or sometimes reddish brown, and generally has a few darker specks at the larger end. Instead of building a nest for itself, the Cuckoo deposits its eggs singly, and at intervals of a few days, in the nests of a variety of other birds, and leaves them to be hatched out, and the young reared, by the foster parents.
The nests in which the Cuckoo’s eggs are most frequently deposited are those of the Hedge Sparrow, Meadow Pipit, Pied Wagtail, and Reed Warbler, but according to Dr. Thienemann, a great authority on the subject of European birds’ eggs, they have also been found in the nests of the following very different species:—
Garden Warbler.Blackcap.Whitethroat.Lesser Whitethroat.Redstart.Black Redstart.Robin.Reed Warbler.Sedge Warbler.Marsh Warbler.Grasshopper Warbler.Willow Wren.Hedge Sparrow.Common Wren.Whinchat.White Wagtail.Grey-headed Wagtail.Tawny Pipit.Meadow Pipit.Skylark.Yellowhammer.
Garden Warbler.
Blackcap.
Whitethroat.
Lesser Whitethroat.
Redstart.
Black Redstart.
Robin.
Reed Warbler.
Sedge Warbler.
Marsh Warbler.
Grasshopper Warbler.
Willow Wren.
Hedge Sparrow.
Common Wren.
Whinchat.
White Wagtail.
Grey-headed Wagtail.
Tawny Pipit.
Meadow Pipit.
Skylark.
Yellowhammer.
To this list Dr. Baldamus, from other sources, has added the following:[98]—
Red-backed Shrike.Barred Warbler.Nightingale.Icterine Warbler.Chiff-chaff.Great Reed Warbler.Sedge Warbler.Fire-crested Wren.Tree Pipit.Crested Lark.Wood Lark.Common Bunting.Black-headed Bunting.Greenfinch.Linnet.Russet Wheatear.
Red-backed Shrike.
Barred Warbler.
Nightingale.
Icterine Warbler.
Chiff-chaff.
Great Reed Warbler.
Sedge Warbler.
Fire-crested Wren.
Tree Pipit.
Crested Lark.
Wood Lark.
Common Bunting.
Black-headed Bunting.
Greenfinch.
Linnet.
Russet Wheatear.
And lastly, in a foot-note to Mr. Dawson Rowley’s article on the Cuckoo,[99]in which the above lists were quoted, Professor Newton has pointed out the authority which exists for includingthe following, at least occasionally, amongst the foster parents of the young Cuckoo:—
House Sparrow.Blue-throated Warbler.Rock Pipit.Chaffinch.Blackbird.Grasshopper Warbler.[100]Great Titmouse.Red-throated Pipit.Mealy Redpoll.Bullfinch.Jay.Song Thrush.Magpie.Turtle Dove.Wood Pigeon.
House Sparrow.
Blue-throated Warbler.
Rock Pipit.
Chaffinch.
Blackbird.
Grasshopper Warbler.[100]
Great Titmouse.
Red-throated Pipit.
Mealy Redpoll.
Bullfinch.
Jay.
Song Thrush.
Magpie.
Turtle Dove.
Wood Pigeon.
He confirms, moreover, Mr. Rowley’s remark that the Cuckoo’s egg is occasionally found in the nest of the Brambling (Fringilla montifringilla).
I have still to name four species which are not included in any of the above lists,viz., the Spotted Flycatcher, Yellow Wagtail, Grey Wagtail, and Wheatear. They were noticed by me some years ago in the first work I ever published.[101]In the case of the Wheatear, a nest of that bird containing three eggs of the Wheatear and one of the Cuckoo was placed under aclod, and in such a position as strongly to favour the opinion of some naturalists that the Cuckoo first lays her eggs and then deposits them with her bill in the nest.
Considering the amount of attention which has been bestowed upon the Cuckoo by naturalists in every age down to the present, one would suppose that every fact in connection with its life-history was now pretty generally known. Such, however, is not the case. There are still certain points which require investigation, and which, owing chiefly to the vagrant habits of the bird, are not easily determined.
How can it be ascertained with certainty, for example, whether the same hen Cuckoo always lays eggs of the same colour, or whether (admitting this to be the case) she invariably lays in the nest of the same species—that is, in the nest of that species whose eggs most nearly approximate in colour to her own?
And yet we must be satisfied on these points if we are to accept the ingenious theory of Dr. Baldamus. If we understand the learnedGerman rightly, he states that, with a view to insure the preservation of species which would otherwise be exposed to danger, Nature has endowed every hen Cuckoo with the faculty of laying eggs similar in colour to those of the species in whose nest she lays, in order that they may be less easily detected by the foster parents, and that she only makes use of the nest of some other species (i.e.of one whose eggs donotresemble her own) when, at the time she is ready to lay, a nest of the former description is not at hand. This statement, which concludes a long and interesting article on the subject in the German ornithological journal “Naumannia,” for 1853, has deservedly attracted much attention. English readers were presented with an epitome of this article by Mr. Dawson Rowley in the “Ibis” for 1865, and the Rev. A. C. Smith, after bringing it to the notice of the Wiltshire Archæological Society in the same year, published a literal translation of it in the “Zoologist” for 1868. More recently, an article on the subject, by Professor Newton, appearedin “Nature” and elicited various critical remarks from Mr. H. E. Dresser, Mr. Layard, and other ornithologists which deserve perusal.[102]
To enter fully upon the details of this interesting subject would require more space than can here be accorded; one can only glance therefore at the general opinions which have been expressed in connection with it.
If the theory of Dr. Baldamus be correct, is it possible to give a reasonable and satisfactory explanation of it? This question has been answered by Professor Newton in the article to which we have just referred. He says:—“Without attributing any wonderful sagacity to the Cuckoo, it does seem likely that the bird which once successfully deposited her eggs in a Reed Wren’s or a Titlark’s nest, should again seek for another Reed Wren’s, or a Titlark’s nest (as the case may be) when she had an egg to dispose of, and that she should continue her practice from one season to another. We know that year after year the same migratory bird willreturn to the same locality, and build its nest in almost the same spot. Though the Cuckoo be somewhat of a vagrant, there is no improbability of her being subject to thus much regularity of habit, and indeed such has been asserted as an observed fact. If, then, this be so, there is every probability of her offspring inheriting the same habit, and the daughter of a Cuckoo which always placed her egg in a Reed Wren’s or a Titlark’s nest doing the like.” In other words, the habit of depositing an egg in the nest of a particular species of bird is likely to become hereditary.
This would be an excellent argument in support of the theory, were it not for one expression, upon which the whole value of the argument seems to me to depend. What is meant by the expression “once successfully deposited”? Does the Cuckoo ever revisit a nest in which she has placed an egg, and satisfy herself that her offspring is hatched and cared for? If not (and I believe such an event is not usual, if indeed it has ever been known to occur), then nothing has been gained by the selection of a Reed Wren’s or Titlark’s nest (as the case maybe), and the Cuckoo can have no reason for continuing the practice of using the same kind of nest from one season to another.
While admitting therefore the tendency which certain habits have to become hereditary in certain animals, I feel compelled to reject the application of this principle in the case of the Cuckoo, on the ground that it can only hold good where the habit results in an advantage to the species, and in the present instance we have no proof either that there is an advantage, or, if there is, that the Cuckoo is sensible of it.
Touching the question of similarity between eggs laid by the same bird, Professor Newton says:—“I am in a position to maintain positively that there is a family likeness between the eggs laid by the same bird” (not a Cuckoo) “even at an interval of many years,” and he instances cases of certain Golden Eagles which came under his own observation. But do we not as frequently meet with instances in which eggs laid by the same bird are totally different in appearance? Take the case of a bird which lays four or five eggs in its own nest before itcommences to sit upon them—for example, the Sparrow-Hawk, Blackbird, Missel-Thrush, Carrion Crow, Stone Curlew, or Black-headed Gull. Who has not found nests of any or all of these in which one egg, and sometimes more, differed entirely from the rest? And yet in each instance these were laid, as we may presume, not only by the same hen, but by the same henunder the same conditions, which can be seldom, if ever, the case with a Cuckoo.
Looking to the many instances in which eggs laid by the same bird, in the same nest, and under the same circumstances, varyinter se, it is not reasonable to suppose that eggs of the same Cuckoo deposited in different nests, under different circumstances, and, presumably, different conditions of the ovary, would resemble each other. On the contrary, there is reason to expect they would be dissimilar. Further, I can confirm the statement of Mr. Dawson Rowley, who says:[103]“I have found two types of Cuckoo’s eggs, laid, as I am nearly sure, by the same bird.”
It is undeniable that strong impressions upon the sense of sight, affecting the parent during conception or an early stage of pregnancy, may and do influence the formation of the embryo, and it has consequently been asserted that the sight of the eggs lying in the nest has such an influence on the hen Cuckoo, that her egg, which is ready to be laid, assumes the colour and markings of those before her. This is not, however, supported by facts, for the egg of a Cuckoo is frequently found with eggs which do not in the least resemble it (e.g.those of the Hedge-Sparrow); or with eggs which, from the nature of the nest, could not have been seen by the Cuckoo (as in the case of the Redstart, Wren, or Willow Wren); or deposited in a nest before a single egg had been laid therein by the rightful owner. Again, two Cuckoo’s eggs of a different colour have been found in the same nest. If both were laid by one bird, we have a proof that the same Cuckoo does not always lay eggs of the same colour; if laid by different birds, then the Cuckoo is not so impressionable as has been supposed.
What really takes place, I believe, is this:—TheCuckoo lays her egg upon the ground; the colour of the egg is variable according to the condition of the ovary, which depends upon the age of the bird, the nature of its food, and state of health at the time of oviposition. With her egg in her bill, the bird then seeks a nest wherein to place it. I am not unwilling to accept the suggestion that, being cognizant of colour, she prefers a nest which contains eggs similar to her own, in order that the latter may be less easily discovered by the foster parents. At the same time the egg in question is so frequently found amongst others which differ totally from it in colour, that I cannot think the Cuckoo is so particular in her choice as Dr. Baldamus would have us believe.
The manner in which “the cuckowe’s bird useth the sparrow,” “oppressing his nest,” living upon him, and finally turning him adrift, has furnished a theme for poets and prose writers in all ages, and has awakened in no small degree the speculative powers of naturalists.
The story is as old as the hills, and it would probably be difficult, if not impossible, to traceit to its origin. It was known to the ancients that the Cuckoo leaves its eggs to be hatched by other birds, but they mingled fact with fable, believing, or at all events asserting, that the young Cuckoo devoured not only its foster brothers and sisters, but ultimately its foster parents. Hence the expression which Shakespeare put into the mouth of the Earl of Worcester to the effect that the youngster
“Grew by our feeding to so great a bulkThat even our love durst not come near his sightFor fear of swallowing.”—Henry IV.act v. sc. 1.
“Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk
That even our love durst not come near his sight
For fear of swallowing.”—Henry IV.act v. sc. 1.
But though so time-worn is the tale as to be very generally believed, it is singular how few writers have attempted to show a foundation for it from their own observations. So scattered, indeed, is the evidence on the subject, that many naturalists of the present day still hesitate to believe the story, pronouncing the alleged feat of strength on the part of the young Cuckoo to be “a physical impossibility.”
Although my present purpose is to direct attention to the latest observations upon this vexed question which have come to us withauthority, it will not be superfluous to glance very briefly at what had already been advanced in support of the statement referred to.
Dr. Jenner says positively (“Phil. Trans.,” vol. lxxviii. p. 225):—“I discovered the young Cuckoo, though so newly hatched,in the actof turning out the young Hedge-Sparrow. The little animal, with the assistance of its rump and wings, contrived to get the bird upon its back, and making a lodgement for its burden by elevating its elbows, clambered backwards with it up the side of the nest till it reached the top, where, resting for a moment, it threw off its load with a jerk, and quite disengaged it from the nest. It remained in the situation for a short time, feeling about with the extremities of its wings, as if to be convinced whether the business was properly executed, and then dropped into the nest again.”
Montagu, in the Introduction to his “Ornithological Dictionary,” states that he took home a young Cuckoo five or six days old, when, to use his own words: “I frequently saw it throw out a young Swallow (which was put in for the purposeof experiment) for four or five days after. This singular action was performed by insinuating itself under the Swallow, and with its rump forcing it out of the nest with a sort of jerk. Sometimes, indeed, it failed after much struggle, by reason of the strength of the Swallow, which was nearly full feathered; but, after a small respite from the seeming fatigue, it renewed its efforts, and seemed continually restless till it succeeded.”
Mr. Blackwall, who published some observations on this point in the fourth volume of the “Manchester Memoirs” (second series), says that a nestling Cuckoo, while in his possession, turned both young birds and eggs out of its nest, in which he had placed them for the purpose. He further observed “that this bird, though so young, threw itself backwards with considerable force when anything touched it unexpectedly,” an observation subsequently confirmed by Mr. Durham Weir in a letter to Macgillivray.[104]
Mr. Weir says a young Cuckoo was hatched with three young Titlarks on the 6th June. “On the afternoon of the 10th two of the Titlarks were found lying dead at the bottom of the ditch; the other one had disappeared.” Subsequently this Cuckoo was removed, and placed in another Titlark’s nest, nearer home, for more convenient observation. On the following day Mr. Weir found it covered by the old Titlark “with outstretched wings from a very heavy shower of rain * * * while her own young ones had in the meantime been expelled by the Cuckoo, and were lying lifeless within two inches of her nest.” Another instance is given wherein two Cuckoos were hatched in a Titlark’s nest. “On the third or fourth day after this the young Titlarks were found lying dead on the ground, and the Cuckoos were in possession of the nest.” Ultimately one of the latter, the weaker of the two, disappeared.
A German naturalist, Adolf Müller, of Gladenbach, writing in a German periodical, “Der Zoologische Garten,” in October, 1868, hasgiven a curious account of the conduct of two young Cuckoos, which were hatched in the nest of a Robin. A translation of this account was published in “The Field” of Nov. 21, 1868, and it will be unnecessary therefore to give more than the merest outline of the facts detailed in it.
Two young Cuckoos, five or six days old, were found in a Robin’s nest, four Robin’s eggs lying on the heath before the nest. The two birds were extremely restless, striving to push each other out of the nest, the smaller one always the more active. Herr Müller placed the smaller on the back of the larger one, which immediately began to heave it upwards, and, thrusting its claws into the moss and texture of the nest, actually succeeded in pushing it to the edge of the nest and about four inches further amongst the heath stems. After every contest which was observed both birds contrived to creep back again into the nest. Ultimately the larger one was found lying dead outside the nest, while the Robin was sitting on the smaller bird and the eggs, which had been replaced.
The latest contribution on the subject is that of Mr. Gould, who in his splendid folio work on “The Birds of Great Britain,” expressed himself a disbeliever in the popular story. He has since found reason to change his opinion, for in his recently published octavo “Introduction” to that work he says: “I now find that the opinion ventured in my account of this species as to the impossibility of the young Cuckoo ejecting the young of its foster parents at the early age of three or four days is erroneous; for a lady of undoubted veracity and considerable ability as an observer of nature, and as an artist, has actually seen the act performed [he seems to overlook the circumstance that others had previously seen it], and has illustrated her statement of the fact by a sketch taken at the time, a tracing of which has been kindly sent to me.”
This tracing he has reproduced as an engraving in the “Introduction” referred to, and as he has been good enough to allow me the use of the wood block to illustrate the present remarks, the reader may consider himself inpossession of a fac-simile sketch from nature.
The following is the account given by Mrs. Blackburn (the lady referred to) of the circumstance as it came under her observation:[105]—
“The nest which we watched last June, after finding the Cuckoo’s egg in it, was that of the Common Meadow Pipit (Titlark, or Moss-Cheeper), and had two Pipit’s eggs, besides that of the Cuckoo.
“It was below a heather bush, on the declivity of a low abrupt bank, on a Highland hill-side, in Moidart. At one visit the Pipits were found to be hatched, but not the Cuckoo.
Cuckoo in nest
“At the next visit, which was after an interval of forty-eight hours, we found the young Cuckoo alone in the nest, and both the young Pipits lying down the bank, about ten inches from the margin of the nest, but quite lively after being warmed in the hand. They were replaced in the nest beside the Cuckoo, which struggled about till it got its back under one of them, when it climbed backwards directly up the open side of the nest, and hitched the Pipit from its back on to the edge. It then stood quite upright on its legs, which were straddled wide apart, with the claws firmly fixed half-way down the inside of the nest among the interlacing fibres of which the nest was woven; and, stretching its wings apart and backwards, it elbowed the Pipit fairly over the margin so farthat its struggles took it down the bank instead of back into the nest.
“After this the Cuckoo stood a minute or two, feeling back with its wings, as if to make sure that the Pipit was fairly overboard, and then subsided into the bottom of the nest.
“As it was getting late, and the Cuckoo did not immediately set to work on the other nestling, I replaced the ejected one and went home. On returning next day both nestlings were found dead and cold, out of the nest. I replaced one of them, but the Cuckoo made no effort to get under and eject it, but settled itself contentedly on the top of it. All this I find accords accurately with Jenner’s description of what he saw. But what struck me most was this: The Cuckoo was perfectly naked, without a vestige of a feather, or even a hint of future feathers; its eyes were not yet opened, and its neck seemed too weak to support the weight of its head. The Pipits had well-developed quills on the wings and back, and had bright eyes, partially open; yet they seemed quite helpless under the manipulationsof the Cuckoo, which looked a much less developed creature. The Cuckoo’s legs, however, seemed very muscular; and it appeared to feel about with its wings, which were absolutely featherless, as with hands, the ‘spurious wing’ (unusually large in proportion), looking like a spread-out thumb. The most singular thing of all was the direct purpose with which the blind little monster made for the open side of the nest, the only part where it could throw its burthen down the bank.”
Notwithstanding the objections put forward by sceptics, it is impossible, after reading the evidence of the above-named independent observers, to doubt that the young Cuckoo is capable of doing all that has been attributed to it in the way of ejectment. But it is still very desirable that some competent anatomist should examine and report upon the arrangement and development of the nerves and muscles, which must differ very considerably from those which are to be found at the same age in the young of other insessorial birds.
WRYNECK
Following closely in the wake of the Cuckoo, if not occasionally preceding it, comes the Wryneck, or Cuckoo’s-mate, as it is popularly called from the habit referred to. In some respects it is a very remarkable bird, for not only is its appearance quite unlike that of any other of our summer migrants, but its actions and habits are also totally different. In size no larger than a Skylark, it at once attractsattention by the beauty of its plumage which, although of sombre hue, is prettily variegated with greys and browns of different shades, here and there relieved with black. The under parts, of a soft grey inclining to yellow, are transversely bound with delicate wavy lines. Although for the purpose of comparison, this species may be likened in point of size to the familiar Lark, its structure and habits fit it for a very different mode of life. It is a scansorial or climbing bird, like the Woodpeckers, with toes directed two in front and two behind; hence the term yoke-footed, which has been applied to the particular group of birds in which it is included. The genus to which this bird belongs has generally been associated with the genusPicus, to which it undoubtedly bears some affinity. The extensibility of the tongue is the chief character which they have in common, but in the one the extremity is barbed, in the other it is smooth. The fourth toe in the Woodpecker is directed somewhat outwards and backwards, whereas in the Wryneckits natural position is directly backwards, parallel to the first. The bill of the latter more nearly resembles that ofPicusthan that ofCuculus, although it is not wedge-shaped at the point. On the other hand the tail has no resemblance to that of the Woodpecker. The genusJynx, therefore, seems to stand between these two genera and to form as it were their connecting link.
The colour of the plumage so closely assimilates to that of the bark and boughs of trees, that it is often difficult to detect the bird when in close proximity to such surroundings. But although the Wryneck may be considered as strictly a woodland bird, adapted by its peculiar structure to climbing the boles of trees and probing the interstices of the bark for lurking insects, it nevertheless finds a considerable portion of its food on the ground, and it especially affects the neighbourhood of ant-hills, where it preys largely on those insects and their larvæ. In this employment its remarkable tongue, like that of the Woodpecker’s, is of greatservice. It is long and slender, with a horny point, and is capable of being protruded for more than twice the length of the head, in consequence of the extreme elongation of the two branches of the flexible or hyoid bone, as it is termed, which supports the tongue, curling round at the back of the head, dividing and passing over each eye, at the forehead, where the branches reunite and extend to the base of the upper mandible. Two long salivary glands, situated beneath the tongue, open into the mouth by two ducts, and secrete a viscid fluid which covers the tongue, and thus causes ants, larvæ, and other small insects forming the food of this species to adhere to it. Where the soil is loose the tongue is thrust into all the crevices to rouse the ants, and for this purpose the horny extremity is very serviceable as a guide to the tongue. The peculiar habit which the bird has of twisting the neck with a slow undulatory movement, like that of a snake, has obtained for it the name of Wryneck, not only in England but throughout the continent, wherever the bird is known.
Although common in the southern and south-eastern counties of England, the Wryneck is only partially distributed in the British Islands, and the limit of its geographical area is almost coincident with that of the Nightingale before noticed. In the western and northern counties of England, as well as in Wales, it is comparatively a scarce bird; in Scotland it is very rare, and in Ireland quite unknown. Its arrival in April is speedily announced by its loud and oft-repeated cry, which has been likened to the syllable—“dear, dear, dear, dear, dear,” and which resembles, though less harsh, the cry of the Kestrel.
In its mode of nidification, the Wryneck resembles the Woodpeckers, selecting a hole in a tree wherein to deposit its eggs, which are six or seven in number, pure white, and laid with little or no attempt at a nest upon chips of decayed wood at the bottom of the hole. In about three weeks the young are hatched, and both parents take their turn at feeding them, bringing ants and their eggs in mouthfuls,woodlice, small spiders, and other insects. The ants, which are gathered up wholesale by means of the long glutinous tongue, which the bird darts amongst them with great rapidity, are stored up in the mouth until the return to the nest, when they are ejected in ball-like masses into the open gapes of the clamorous young. The latter quickly assume their feathers, and by the month of August are ready to leave the country with their parentsen routefor Africa, Asia Minor, and India, where they pass the cold months of the year. But according to the observations of Lindermayer, Dr. Kruper, and others, many spend the winter in Greece amongst the olive groves, and Lord Lilford has seen it in Epirus in March and December (“Ibis,” 1860, p. 235).
In Tangiers, Tripoli, Algeria, Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia, it is by no means uncommon. It occurs also in Arabia, and according to Dr. Jerdon (“Birds of India,” vol. i. p. 303) is found throughout India, except, perhaps, on the Malabar Coast, where he never saw it, or heardof a specimen being procured. He adds, “It is chiefly, perhaps, a cold-weather visitant in the south of India; but it is found to remain all the year further north.”
I have already touched upon the question whether any of our summer migrants breed in their winter quarters, as well as in their summer haunts (see p. 41), and it may be well to note here the above remark of Dr. Jerdon, as well as the observation of Captain Loche, that the Wryneck breeds in the forests of Algeria. It of course remains to be shown whether the individuals which rear their young south of the Mediterranean, ever migrate into Europe; for it is possible that Algeria may be the northern-most limit in summer of those birds which have passed the winter many degrees further south than have the migrants from Europe.
HOOPOE
Amongst the large number of migratory birds which resort to the British Islands in spring for the purpose of nidification, are a few which come to us accidentally, as it were, or as stragglers from the main body of immigrants which, crossing the Mediterranean from Africa, becomes dispersed over the greater part of Europe. The Hoopoe is one of these. Not a summer elapses without the appearance,and, I regret to say, the destruction, of several of these beautiful birds being chronicled in some one or other of the many periodicals devoted to Natural History. If the thoughtless persons, whose first impulse on seeing an uncommon bird, is to procure a gun and shoot it, would only take as much pains to afford it protection for a time, observe its habits, describe its mode of nesting and manner of feeding its young, they would do a much greater service to ornithology by recording the result of their observations, than by publishing the details of a wanton destruction.
That the Hoopoe will breed in this country, if unmolested, is evidenced by the recorded instances in which it has done so where sufficient protection has been afforded it during the nesting season. Montagu states, in his “Ornithological Dictionary,” that a pair of Hoopoes began a nest in Hampshire, and Dr. Latham has described a young Hoopoe which was brought to him in the month of June. A pair frequented Gilbert White’s garden at Selborne;and another pair nested for several years in the grounds of Pennsylvania Castle, Portland.[106]Mr. Jesse states[107]that some years ago a pair of Hoopoes built their nest and hatched their young in a tree close to the house at Park End, near Chichester; and according to the observations of Mr. Turner, of Sherborne, Dorsetshire, the nest has been taken, on three or four occasions, by the schoolboys from pollard willows on the banks of the river Lenthay. The birds were known to the boys as “Hoops.”
In the same county, on the authority of the Rev. O. P. Cambridge, a pair of Hoopoes are reported to have bred at Warmwell. The Rev. A. C. Smith, of Calne, Wilts, says that a nest, containing young birds, was taken many years ago in his neighbourhood; and another nest, according to Mr. A. E. Knox, was found at Southwick, near Shoreham. Canon Tristram states that the Hoopoe has bred at least on one occasion, in Northamptonshire.
Mr. Howard Saunders informs me that many years ago a pair of Hoopoes took possession of a hole in a yew tree in the shrubbery of a garden at Leatherhead, and reared their young in safety. He afterwards saw both old and young birds strutting about on the lawn. I have seldom met with this bird in England, and then only on the coast in September, when the beauty of its plumage had become faded, and the feathers ragged, and it was about to emigrate southwards for the winter. But on the continent, and more particularly in France, I have had many opportunities of observing it, and noting its actions and habits. In its movements on the ground it struck me as resembling the Rook more than any other bird I could think of at the time; the same stately tread and gentle nodding of the head, every now and then stopping to pick up something. It does not carry the crest erect, but inclining backwards, and is less sprightly in its movements generally than I had previously supposed. On the wing it at first sight reminds one of a Jay,the principal colours being the same, viz., black, white, and pale cinnamon brown; but the distribution of colour is different, and the flight is not so rapid, and more undulating. The wings are large for the size of the bird, and the first-quill feather being much shorter than the second, the wing has a rounded appearance which makes the flight seem heavier.
It is a shy bird, taking wing on the least alarm, except when surprised by a hawk or other large bird, when, according to the observations of the German naturalists, Naumann and Bechstein, it resorts to a very singular expedient to protect itself. It squats upon the ground, spreads out its tail and wings to their fullest extent, bringing the primaries round so as almost to meet in front, and throws back its head and bill, which it holds up perpendicularly.[108]So long as danger threatens, it remains in thisodd position, probably to deceive the enemy; for when thus spread out, at a little distance it looks more like an old parti-coloured rag than a living bird.
The Hoopoe lives a good deal on the ground where it finds its chief food, which consists of beetles of various kinds, and their larvæ, caterpillars, and ants. It is especially partial to dung-beetles, and may often be seen in search of them upon the roads, where it is also fond of dusting after the manner of a Skylark. But besides picking up a great deal of food from the surface, it also probes beneath the soil where the nature of the ground admits of this, and secures many a worm and lurking grub by means of its long and slender pointed bill. It swallows a beetle or other small morsel just as the Hornbills in the Zoological Society’s Gardens swallow the grapes which are thrown to them, that is to say, it seizes it first between the tips of the mandibles, then throwing the head back suddenly, and opening the bill at the same instant, the food is jerked into the gullet withgreat precision, and disappears. When it seizes a worm, however, the process is somewhat different. It bruises it by beating it against the ground, pinches it all over between the mandibles, and finally swallows it lengthwise with sundry jerks of the head.
In other respects, as well as in the mode of taking their food, the Hoopoes resemble the Hornbills. They build in holes of trees as the latter are known to do, and the hens sit upon the eggs without interruption until they are hatched, the males, as in the case of the Hornbills, bringing food and feeding them from the outside of the hole. The eggs, which are generally five or six in number, are elongated, nearly oval, and of a greenish grey colour. The young when first hatched are naked, but soon get covered with small blue quills from which the feathers sprout. They are unable to stand upright until nearly fledged, but crouch forward and utter a hissing noise. Their crests are soon developed, but their bills do not acquire their full length until the following year.
Lord Lilford states that although the Hoopoe as a rule prefers a hole in an old ash or willow tree for nesting in, he has seen a nest on the ground under a large stone, others in holes on the sunny side of mud or brick walls, one in a fissure of limestone rock, and another in a small cavern.
Dr. Carl Bolle has observed that in the Canaries, where trees are scarce, the Hoopoe breeds in holes of the stone walls and clefts of the rocks.
During his residence in China, where this bird is common, Mr. Swinhoe was surprised to find that it often breeds in the holes of exposed Chinese coffins, whence the natives have a great aversion to them, branding them as “Coffin-birds;” and the Russian naturalist Pallas once found a nest of the Hoopoe, containing seven young ones nearly ready to fly, in the decomposed abdominal cavity of a dead body!
The note of the Hoopoe is very remarkable, and not to be mistaken for that of any other bird with which I am acquainted. It sounds likethe syllables “hoop-hoop,” “hoop-hoop,” frequently repeated, and in the quality of its tone approximates to the call of the Cuckoo, but the second note is a repetition of the first instead of being, as in the case of the Cuckoo, a third below it. Old authors affirmed that this peculiar sound was produced by the bird distending its cheeks with air, and tapping its bill upon the ground, thereby causing the notes to escape as it were spasmodically. This curious statement has received some confirmation from the observations of Mr. Swinhoe.[109]He says: “To produce these notes, the bird draws the air into its trachea, which puffs out on either side of the neck, and the end of the bill is tapped perpendicularly against a stone or the trunk of a tree, when the breath being forced down the tubular bill produces the correct sound.” He adds, however, that he has observed a Hoopoe perched upon a hanging rope, and uttering its well-known cry without any tapping of the bill.
I cannot help thinking that a bird observed in the act of callingwhilst picking up food, as many species do, has given rise to the notion that the sound isproducedby tapping, whereas in truth it precedes and follows the movement. The only motion that I could ever detect in a Hoopoe whilst calling was a nodding of the head, and a depression of the crest-feathers.
From the accounts which have been handed down to us by old authors, and the numerous specimens which may be seen preserved in old collections, it would appear that the Hoopoe was formerly much more plentiful in England than it is at the present day. The decrease in its numbers probably arises from two causes, viz., the clearance of forest land, entailing the destruction of many old trees which were once attractive as nesting places,[110]and the increased use of fire-arms which unfortunately results inthe destruction of many of these beautiful birds, at a time when they are just about to pair and commence nidification.
The period of its migration into Europe in the spring sets in early in April. The late Commander Sperling, when stationed with his vessel in the Mediterranean, frequently met with Hoopoes at sea during their passage. In the English Channel on the 15th April, 1854, a Hoopoe after flying two or three times round a steamer entered one of the windows of the saloon and was taken, apparently exhausted with fatigue. Another, on the 21st April, alighted on a mackerel-boat between the Eddystone Lighthouse and Plymouth Breakwater, in an exhausted state, and allowed itself to be taken.
The average date of arrival in England may be said to be the third week in April, when the species is more frequently met with in the eastern and south-eastern counties, although it wanders inland to a considerable distance. It is regarded by Mr. R. Gray[111]as a straggler toScotland; and Mr. Thompson remarks[112]that in Ireland it has appeared occasionally in all quarters of the island.
As autumn approaches, these birds, or such of them as have contrived to escape destruction, begin to move southwards for the winter, and passing gradually down to the Mediterranean, are observed for some days about the groves and olive gardens near the sea before they finally cross over. In this way they return to their winter haunts about the end of August or beginning of September. Throughout Southern and South-eastern Europe, as well as in Siberia and North-eastern Africa, the Hoopoe breeds commonly; but in the northern and western parts of the last-named continent it is chiefly a winter visitant. The Siberian birds, probably, and not the European ones, migrate to India and China for the cold season, and some remain to breed in both these countries. Those which have passed the summer in Europe, as already shown, spend their winter in Africa.
Occasionally a Hoopoe has been observed in winter in the British Islands, but so rarely as to make the occurrence a matter of note. An instance or two of this kind in Norfolk has been noticed by Hunt in his “British Birds” (vol. ii. p. 147); and Mr. R. Gray, in his “Birds of the West of Scotland,” p. 198, refers to two which were killed near Glasgow, in different years, so late as the month of October.
The late Sir William Jardine informed me that two were shot in Dumfriesshire in the winter of 1870-71.
The most perfect specimen of the Hoopoe I have ever seen is one in my collection, which was shot at the Dell, a piece of water near Whetstone, Middlesex, on the 25th April, 1852. It has no less than twenty-two crest feathers the longest two inches in length, arranged in two parallel rows, with the upper surfaces outwards, and of a pale cinnamon colour broadly tipped with black. The other portions of the plumage are equally perfect and bright in colour.
GOLDEN ORIOLE
Like the Hoopoe, the Golden Oriole makes its annual visit to the European continent from the countries south of the Mediterranean, in the month of April, and returns in September. In the interval it may be found not uncommonly in the wooded parts of Central and Southern Europe; but it is rare in the north, being seldom seen in Sweden, and unknown in Norway.
In England, where it may be regarded as anirregular summer migrant, it unfortunately meets with little or no protection, for its bright colours at once attract attention, and many get shot before they have been a week on our shores. The male bird is bright yellow, with black wings and a black and yellow tail. The female is dull green, with pitch-brown wings, the upper tail coverts greenish yellow, and the under parts greyish white, longitudinally streaked with brown on the shafts of the feathers; the flanks yellow, and streaked in the same way.
My impressions on meeting with Golden Orioles for the first time in France, now many years ago, will not be easily forgotten. I wanted to see them alive, hear their notes, shoot two or three to examine them closely, and ascertain the nature of their food; and accordingly I accepted the invitation of a friend and took up my quarters at an old country house, about halfway between Paris and Orleans. On looking over my note-book for that particular year, I find the following entry, relating to the Golden Oriole:—
“Long before six in the morning I wasawakened by a perfect chorus of birds—Blackcap, Nightingale, Thrush, Wood Pigeon, Chaffinch, Starling, and Magpie were all recognized; but what pleased me above all, was a beautiful mellow whistle, which I took to be that of the Golden Oriole, and in less than an hour afterwards I found that I was right in my surmise, for on walking through the woods which flank one side of the house, I had the pleasure of seeing for the first time alive several of these beautiful birds. They were very shy, and kept to the tops of the oak trees; but by proceeding cautiously I managed to get near enough to see and hear them well. Their note is really splendid, so mellow, loud, and clear—something of the Blackbird’s tone about it, but yet very different; while in their mode of flight and perching they remind one of a Thrush. After a long search, I at length found a nest, placed at the extremity of a thin bough, and at the top of an oak tree, about sixty feet up. There were no branches for more than thirty feet, and it would have been almost impossible to reach itwithout assistance. I therefore marked the spot, and determined to get a long ladder a little later and try and take it. The keeper informed me that it was early yet for Orioles’ eggs, and so I left the nest for the last day of my stay here. In the afternoon I went with the keeper to the Parc de Marolles. We could hear the Orioles, orLoriots, as the French call them from their notes, singing loudly in the recesses of the woods; but the foliage was so thick, and they kept so much to the tops of the trees, that it was almost impossible to catch sight of them. Their greenish-yellow feathers, too, harmonized so well with the leaves, that it rendered them still more difficult to see.
“Following the direction of the notes, I continued to make my way through the underwood as noiselessly as possible, peering through the branches, and striving in vain to catch sight of a bird. For a long time the sound seemed to be as far away as ever, or, as I advanced it receded. The sun was broiling hot, and the exertion of forcing my way through the underwood,and straining my neck forward in my endeavours to get a sight of the bird, put me in a profuse perspiration. The result of about three hours’ work was, that I finally succeeded in getting three shots at long intervals, and secured a pair of Orioles, a young male and an old female. Subsequently, however, I got others. I found the stomachs of these birds crammed with caterpillars of various species, and can well understand the good they do in young plantations, by ridding the trees of these pests.
“The colours of the soft parts in these birds, as noted by me at the time, were as follows:—Iris, reddish hazel; bill, brownish flesh colour; legs and toes, pale lead colour.
“On June 3rd, after breakfast, I went to the wood near the house to take a Golden Oriole’s nest, and a difficult matter it was. The nest was placed in a slender fork at the extremity of a thin bough of an oak tree, and almost at the top.
“The oaks here are not, as in England, sturdyand short, with wide-spreading heads, but tall and slender, running up for a great height without any branches, and very tiring to climb. I was obliged to saw off the branch before I could look into the nest, and after a great deal of trouble, when I at length got it down safely, I found, to my disappointment, that it contained three young birds instead of eggs. Could I have ascertained this without cutting off the branch, I should certainly have left them where they were; as it was, there was no help for it but to take them. They were apparently about three days old, and almost naked, the skin of an orange or yellowish flesh-colour very sparsely flecked with yellow down. I fed them on maggots, and covered them with cotton wool to keep them warm, and in this way I kept them alive until I reached Paris, where they died, and were entrusted to a skilful taxidermist for preservation.”
Although the discovery of a Golden Oriole’s nest in England is not unprecedented, it is of sufficiently rare occurrence to attract the attentionof naturalists, more especially when the finder (as in the case to which I am about to allude) has the humanity and good sense to permit the young to be reared, instead of shooting the parent birds the moment they are discovered, and thus effectually putting a stop to all attempts at nidification.
It is a pleasure to be able to record the fact, that during the summer of 1874, a pair of Golden Orioles took up their quarters in Dumpton Park, Isle of Thanet, where—the proprietor, Mr. Bankes Tomlin, having given strict injunctions that they should not be disturbed—they built a nest, and successfully reared their young, ultimately leading them away in safety.
They must have commenced building somewhat later than usual, for it was not until the 6th of July that I first heard of the nest, and the young were then just hatched. Mr. Bankes Tomlin having kindly invited me to come and see it, I lost no time in availing myself of his invitation, and a few days later, namely, onJuly 12th, I found myself at Dumpton Park, standing under the very tree in which the nest was placed. The reader may smile at the idea of journeying from London to Ramsgate merely to look at a nest; but if he be an ornithologist, he will know that Golden Orioles’ nests are not to be seen in this country every day, and that when found they are worth “making a note of.” Often as I had seen the bird and its nest on the Continent, it had never been my good fortune until then to meet with it in England. Indeed, the instances in which nests of the Oriole have been found here and recorded are so few that they may be easily enumerated. According to the concise account given by Professor Newton in his new edition of “Yarrell’s British Birds,” one was discovered in June, 1836, in an ash plantation near Ord, from which the young were taken; but, though every care was shown them, they did not long survive their captivity. “Mr. J. B. Ellman says (‘Zoologist,’ p. 2496) that at the end of May, 1849, a nest was, with the owners, obtained near Elmstone. It wassuspended from the extremity of the top branch of an oak, was composed entirely of wool bound together with dried grass, and contained three eggs. Mr. Hulke, in 1851, also recorded (“Zoologist,’ p. 3034) a third, of which he was told that it was found about ten years previously in Word Wood, near Sandwich, by a countryman, who took the young, and gave them to his ferrets; and Mr. More, on the authority of Mr. Charles Gordon, mentions one at Elmstead, adding that the bird appeared again in the same locality in 1861. Mr. Howard Saunders and Lord Lilford informed the editor that in the summer of 1871 they each observed, in Surrey and Northamptonshire respectively, a bird of this species, which probably had a nest. Messrs. Sheppard and Whitear speak of a nest said to have been found in a garden near Ormsby, in Norfolk; but the eggs formerly in Mr. Scales’s collection, which it has been thought were taken in that county, were really brought from Holland, and the editor is not aware of any collector who can boast thepossession of eggs of this species laid in Britain.”
The nest which I am now enabled to record was placed in a fork of a very thin bough of an elm tree, at a considerable height from the ground, and almost at the extremity of the branch, so that it was impossible to reach it except by cutting off the branch near the trunk. Happily, in this case there was no need to reach it, and the finder was enabled to ascertain when the young were hatched by sending a man up the tree high enough to look into the nest without disturbing it. A few days before his first ascent there had been a strong wind blowing for some time, and the slender branch was swayed to and fro to such an extent, that, notwithstanding the depth of the saucer-like nest, one of the eggs was jerked out upon the grass below and broken, though not irreparably so. When I saw it, it was in two pieces, but unmistakably the egg of an Oriole—in size equal to that of a Blackbird, but shining white, with black or rather dark claret-coloured spots at thelarger end. It has been carefully preserved by Mr. Tomlin.
As long as his man remained in the tree the hen bird continued to fly round, uttering at intervals a loud flute-like note, and occasionally making a curious noise, such as a cat makes when angry.
It is perhaps scarcely necessary to remark that, as regards situation, form, and the materials of which it was composed, the nest did not differ from those which one is accustomed to see on the Continent. Invariably placed in, and suspended under, the fork of a horizontal bough, the sides of the nest are firmly bound to each branch of the fork with blades of dry grasses and fibrous roots. There is generally a good deal of sheep’s wool in the nest itself, which, taken in connection with its peculiar shape, gives it a very singular and unique appearance.
On the 12th of July, as we approached the nest in question, the hen bird was sitting, but left as we advanced, and perched in a neighbouring elm, whence at intervals she uttered thepeculiar noise to which I have referred. Not wishing to keep her too long from her young, we left the spot in about ten minutes, after carefully inspecting the nest with a binocular. Returning again in half-an-hour, and a third time two or three hours later, we saw the hen on each occasion quit the nest and take up her position, as before, at a little distance. Once only did I catch a glimpse of her more brightly-coloured mate as he darted between two trees. He was very shy, and silent too, being seldom heard, except very early in the morning, or at twilight. This, however, is the case with most song-birds after the young are hatched, for they are then so busy providing food for the little mouths that they have scarcely time to sit and sing. Mr. Tomlin, who had other and better opportunities for observing him, gave me to understand that he was not in the fully adult plumage,[113]so that it seems the males of thisspecies breed before they have assumed their beautiful black and yellow colours.
On the 22nd of July the man again ascended the tree and peeped into the nest. The young had flown, but were subsequently discovered sitting about in the park with the old birds. As soon as the nest was no longer wanted, Mr. Tomlin had the branch which supported it cut off, and, writing to me on the subject the following day, he observed, that “upon examining the nest we found the corners tightly bound with long pieces of matting. One would almost imagine that a basketmaker had been at work.”
Both the old and young birds continued to haunt the park until the 1st of August, after which date they were no longer seen. The young were, however, well feathered by thattime, and able to take care of themselves. Let us hope that they contrived to escape the eyes of prowling gunners beyond the park, and that they will return again in succeeding years to gladden the eyes and ears of their kind protector.
It is much to be wished that other proprietors would follow the good example thus set by Mr. Bankes Tomlin. Could they be induced to do so, they would become acquainted with many beautiful birds which visit us from the Continent every spring, and which would in most cases rear their young here if allowed to remain unmolested. Apart from the gratification to be derived from seeing these brightly-coloured birds within view of the windows, and hearing their mellow flute-like notes, they would be found to be most useful allies to the gardener in ridding the trees of caterpillars, which they devour greedily, and keeping many other noxious insects in check.