J**-^- i •jiu .■*^, -rt* IfiM" ■MJMtft^C'J ■JM^ ^^B|[^^3y^^^^BBg*^ U*''S,«>W4 mo ^^^^^JPBBIn wL. - j^^H^^H^^^^^^^^i^^^^f^'^^^uEulE ^ F ^ ^ -f- 4- H ? j)^^ Cornell Lab of Ornithology y Adelson Library at Sapsucker Woods lluscrarion of Bank Swallow by Louis Agassiz Fuerces f^^^'® 3 1924 090 116 447 LaDoratory of OrnittiyiuBj i59 Sapsucker Woods Road Cornell University ItJiaca. New York 14850 DATE DUE GAYLORD PRINTED IN U.S.A THE OWL AND ITS PREV. Stories about Birds Land and Water. M. AND E. KIRBY, AUTHORS OF "CHAPTERS OM TRBES," ETC. WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. Sfbrntl) (ffHittrn. ,(|ii,ifiiiiii iiiiiir*i Cass ELL, Petter, Galpin & Co. LONDON. PARIS &= NEW YORK. r PREFACE. There is not among the many beautiful creatures God has made one more to be admired than the bird. Its graceful movements, its soft and elegant plumage, its gift of song — or if not of song, of a certain lively gaiety — its tender care for its young, its skill in preparing so pretty a home for their reception, its plaintive mourning when deprived of mate or young, its faith as, in search of a more genial clime, it flies across the mighty waters — all endear it to us as to a beautiful gift we ought to appreciate, and with whose happy and joyous life we should never wilfully interfere. It is to you, dear children, we offer this little volume ; read it, — and when you have done so, we think you will love the birds even better than before ; and that when you want a few of their pretty eggs, you will not greedily take them all, or tear down the cosy nest when the little pair are so happy ; that you will remember God is looking on — God, who cares for them as well as for you — who watches to see whether you obey His command, and spare the birds when you take their eggs, or whether you will hurt and destroy them. Ah ! How sad it would be if there were no birds ! Tip ! tap ! Listen — what's that ? A robin on the window-sill. Open quickly and give him some crumbs ! M. AND E. K. Melton Mowbray. CONTENTS. The Golden Eagle The Sea Eagle The Tufted Eagle The Peregrine Falcon The Goshawk The Secretary Bird The Vulture . The Condor . The Kite The Buzzard . The Snake Buzzard The Snowy Owl . The Short-eared Owl The Stone Owl . The Great Horned Owl The Swallow The Martin . The Kingfisher The Hoopoe . The Humming-bird The Sun-bird The Common Tree-creeper The Nightingale . The Robin The Redstart PACK II i6 20 21 24 26 29 32 35 38 40 42 47 48 5° S3 58 6i 64 67 71 72 75 76 80 The White-throat The Long-tailed Tit . The Wagtail The Wren The Golden-crested Wren The Golden Oriole The Mocking-bird The Song Thrush The Blackbird The Water Ousel The Laughing Thrush The Shrike . The Starling The Superb Glossy Starling The Chough . The Raven The Carrion Crow The Rook The Jackdaw The Magpie . The Nutcracker . The Bird of Paradise . The Goldfinch The Chaffinch The House Sparrow . PAGE 82 84 8s 89 91 94 94 98 100 102 105 1 06 109 112 112 "5 119 121 123 125 128 130 132 135 137 VUl CONTENTS. The Brown Linnet The Lark The Canary . The Cuckoo . The Parrot . The Parrakeet The Cockatoo The Brush Turkey The Capercailzie The Black-cock The Lyre-bird The Pheasant The Ostrich . The Emu The Bustard . The Prairie Hen The Ptarmigan PAGE 141 144 ISO ni 161 164 170 171 17s 177 180 18s 191 193 197 201 rAGB The Quail 204 The Curlew 206 The Plover 209 The Lapwing 212 The Woodcock 215 The Heron 218 The Stork 225 The Spoon-bill 232 The Flamingo 233 The Peacock 236 The Pelican 240 The Cormorant 243 The Swan 246 The Duck 250 The Goose 253 The Stormy Petrel . , , .256 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE The Owl and its Prey . . Frontispiece Wagtails PAGB . 86 The Golden Eagle .... 12 The White Wagtail .... 87 The Royal Eagle .... • 13 The Wren 89 The Imperial Eagle .... • IS Golden-crested Wrens 92 The Sea Eagle • 17 The Golden Oriole ..... 93 The Tufted Eagle .... J9 The Mocking-bird .... 95 Peregrine Falcons .... 21 The Song Thrush .... 99 The Goshawk 24 The Blackbird lOI The Sparrow-hawk .... 25 The Water Ousel .... 103 The Secretary Bird .... 27 The Laughing Thrush 105 The Vulture 29 The Magpie Shrike .... 107 The Tawny Goose Vulture 31 The Rose Starling .... no The Condor 33 The Superb Glossy Starling III The Common Kite .... 37 The Chough "3 The Common Buzzard 39 The Raven 117 The Snake Buzzard .... 41 The Carrion Crow .... 119 The Snowy Owl .... 43 The Rook 121 The Short-eared Owl 47 The Jackdaw 123 The Stone Owl 49 The Magpie 127 The Great Horned Owl - . 51 The Nutcracker .... 129 Swallows 55 The Red Bird of Paradise . 131 The Martin 59 Goldfinches '33 The Kingfisher 63 Chaffinches 136 The Hoopoe 65 The House Sparrow 137 The Giant Humming-bird . 67 Tree Sparrow and House Sparrow 139 The Sickle-billed Humming-bird 69 The Brown Linnet .... 142 The Topaz-throated Humming-bird . 70 The Sky-lark 143 Sun-birds 73 The Morn-lark 144 145 148 The Common Tree-creeper 74 The Desert-lark The Nightingale .... 77 The Wild Canary .... Robin Red-breast .... 79 The Tame Canary .... 1 40 The Redstart 80 The Cuckoo 150 151 'S3 White-throats 82 The Jay Cuckoo .... Long-taUed Tits .... 84 The Golden Cuckoo .... X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE FAGB The Grey Parrot • . IS6 The Quail 205 The Amazon Parrot . • 157 The Curlew . 207 The Waved Parrot . . 158 The Golden Plover . . 210 The Collared Parrot . . 159 The Lapwing • 213 The Ground Parrakeet 161 The Spur-winged Lapwing . 214 The Garuba Parrakeet . 162 The Woodcock . . 217 The Dappled Lorikeet 163 The Giant Heron . 219 The Raven Cockatoo 165 The Peacock Heron . . 220 The Nestor Cockatoo 166 Group of Plerons . 221 The Helmet Cockatoo 167 The Great White Heron • 223 The Casmalos Cockatoo 169 The Stork. . 227 The Brush Turkey . 170 The Marabou Stork . . 229 The Capercailzie 173 The Boat-bill . • 230 The Black-cock . 176 The Spoon-bill . • 233 The Lyre-bird . 179 Flamingoes • 235 The Silver Pheasant . 181 The Peacock • 237 The Black Pheasant . 182 Peacock Pheasant of Assan • 239 The Common Pheasant 183 The Pelican . 241 Chinese Pheasants 184 The Cormorant . • 245 The Ostrich 187 The Whistling Swan . • 247 Ostrich Hunt . 189 The Black Swan . 248 The American Ostrich 190 The Black-necked Swan . • 249 The Emu .... 192 The Wild Duck . 251 Bustards .... 194 The Eider Duck . 252 The Little Bustard . 195 The Grey Goose • 253 The Prairie Hen 199 The Spur-winged Goose . • 254 The Willow Ptarmigan 202 Stormy Petrels . . 255 The Ptarmigan in Winter Plumage . ^ 203 - A Stories About Birds. THE GOLDEN EAGLE. The eagle stands at the head of a tribe of great fierce birds — the birds of prey. They may be called the tyrants of their race, for they are constantly seizing and devouring the smaller and weaker birds ; and they also attack animals. Nature has given them great strength of muscle and of talon, and a certain fierce courage that has a kind of grandeur about it. But they lack the intelligence of the smaller birds ; they have not the skill of weaving or building those exquisite nests about which we shall speak presently ; nor have they the gift of song. Their voices are harsh and screaming ; they do not gladden the summer landscape, and their abode is in wild and solitary places. You see the eagle, as he sits on the crag of some mountain top. He is called the King of the Birds, and well desei-ves his title. He is monarch of all he surveys. Around him are the mighty peaks of the rocks, the deep dark pine forest, and the chasms, the dells; and the pits, that men behold with wonder and with dread. The eagle's wing has borne him over them with ease. Perhaps he has his nest in yonder ledge of the precipice. There the mother 12 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. eagle tends her young, and he has come forth to procure them food. He stands erect, the sun ghstening on the yellow tints of his plumage until it THE GOLDEN EAGLE. shines like gold. He can see far and wide, and deep down below into the valley his glance penetrates. THE EAGLE. n He is armed for the very purpose of plunder. His beak is hooked and strong, and the edges cut Hke a knife. His feet have four powerful toes, THE ROYAL EAGLE, A VARIETY OF THE GOLDEN EAGLE. armed with sharp talons, long and pointed, and formed for clutching. He has no gizzard, for he requires none. He never feeds on anything but flesh, '4 STOJUIES ABOUT BIRDS. and the coats of his stomach are firm enough to digest it. He never waiTjles to his mate, or utters any of those sweet and tender notes that are so pleasant to the ear ; his voice is hke his nature, harsh and forbidding ; it resembles the bark of a dog more than any other sound. The nest of the eagle is very large indeed, and made of sticks and dead twigs and heath, and it has a hollow place in the middle lined with a little wool and feathers. The young birds are covered with white down, amid which the feathers are beginning to appear. You can see that the parent eagles have taken care to provide them with abundance of food. The bones of all kinds of small animals lie scattered about the nest, and the half-eaten bodies of grouse and game, the very morsels that are considered to be such delicacies by man. The golden eagle is the only one of his tribe that lives in Britain, and in the cultivated parts of the island is very rarely seen ; he loves wild and solitary places, and the remote parts of the Highlands of Scotland suit him best. The Isle of Orkney is one of his favourite resorts. On one side of the island the sea rushes in with a fury that is scarcely to be equalled in any part of the world ; and it has made great rents in the coast, so that there is a line of precipices and caverns that are grand beyond description. This is just the place for the eagles to dwell. , Here they make their nests year after year — or rather fit them up again. The old birds drive off the young ones as soon as they can fly, and keep the nest for themselves. They are not very pleasant neighbours, as you may suppose, from their habits of plunder. One day an old minister was walking in his garden, when he heard a loud squeaking noise, that, after being very violent, began to grow fainter. He went to see what was the matter, and arrived at the spot just in time to catch a parting glimpse of his nice fat pig as it was being carried through the air by an eagle. Another day the eagle, having finished the pig, came again to see what he could find. But this time he made rather a mistake. By way of varying his diet, he swooped on a sheep. But his claws got entangled in the wool, and the sheep was rather too heavy to be carried through the air as the pig had been. The minister had time to get to the spot, and knock the eagle down with a stick. Of course, the eagles are not at all liked, and the people do all they can 1 DESTRUCTION OF THE EAGLES NEST. 15 THE IMPERIAL EAGLE. to destroy them. But it is no easy matter to climb up to the place where the nests are built, and very few persons are bold enough to do it. Sometimes a man is let down over the face of the rock by a rope, till he gets to the ledge, and then he sets the nests on fire. i6 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. Sometimes the young eagles are taken out of the nests, and carried away to be tamed. One of these tame eagles was kept by the squire — or "laird," as he is called — of the district. He used to be chained in the kitchen, where he had rather a happy time of it. The servants made a great fuss with him, especially the cook, who fed him with every dainty. The eagle was very fond of her ; but one day he could not refrain from stealing her shoes. She had left them just within his reach, and he pounced upon them, and thrust his own feet into them. None of the other servants could make him give them up ; but when the cook came back, he quietly allowed her to take them off. THE SEA EAGLE. It is a grand sight to behold the sea eagle float in the blue sky far above the mountain tops. He is at home in this higher region — this cloud-land, if we might call it so. Slowly, and with great majesty, he sweeps round in a wide circle, rising and rising until he is no longer to be seen. His food consists of dead animals, in which respect he is like the vulture. He searches the lonely beach for dead fish, or young sea-birds, and he scours the moors and pastures for what other prey he can find. He does not, like many of his tribe, rise high above his prey. He flies only a few hundred yards above it, and sweeps the hill-sides with outspread wings. Far out at sea the sailors watch him, and he has been seen to clutch at a fish that happened to come to the surface. But this way of catching fish is now and then fatal to him. The fish, ii it is a large one, contrives to pull the eagle down under water, and then he is drowned. Should he escape such a fate, he keeps fast hold of the fish, and, half opening his wings, brings it to the shore. Then he takes care to get his claws at liberty, and to dry his feathers, so that he can fly at a moment's notice ; after which he quietly begins his repast THE SEA EAGLE. 17 The eagle does not despise the bank of a river or a lake, for here he can now and then feed delicately on salmon and trout. THE SEA EAGLE. He often sees the otter catching a fish, and he waits until the creature is satisfied, and takes what is left. For his courage is not quite equal to his B 1 8 STOJilES ABOUT BIRDS. size and his strength, and he rarely attacks an animal larger than a hare. Indeed, he has a touch of the vulture about him, and will eat dead creatures with more relish than living prey. In order to escape from his greatest enemy — man — the eagle has re- treated to the wildest and most desolate part of the coast, and makes his nest where scarce any living creature can reach it. His nest is of immense size, and is made of sticks and heath and twigs and dead sea-weeds. The mother bird lays two eggs, of a pure white, with some pale red dots at the larger end. The young birds are clothed with a greyish-coloured down, and are plentifully supplied with food. But as soon as they are old enough, the parent eagles drive them away. The shepherds and farmers in the neighbourhood have a great dislike to the eagle, and try to kill the young ones. They contrive to creep along some mountain track till they get to the nest, and then, as in the case of the other €agle, set it on fire. During this process the parent birds wheel round and round, and utter screams of distress. They might easily attack their persecutors and drive them away, but they rarely attempt to do so. Yet now and then a person crossing the lonely moors has been scratched and buffeted by an eagle. There is another fierce bird of prey, called the osprey, or the fish-hawk, that is a distant relation of the eagle. He, too, feeds on fish, and hovers over the water in a hawk-like fashion. Then, v/hen a fish comes near enough to the surface, he pounces on it, and is seen rising with it in his talons. He thinks he is secure of his prey, but now and then he meets with a disappoint- ment. The sea eagle has been watching close by on some crag on the lonely beach. Now he bends his head, makes a great swoop on the hawk, and frightens him so that he drops his prize. Then the eagle, by a very adroit swoop, catches it before it reaches the water, and carries it off. There is a story about the sea eagle that some people can hardly believe, though others declare it is true. He is said to wet his plumage in the sea, and then roll about on the sand until a great deal of it adheres to him. It is in Norway where this happens, and at a place not far from some mountain pasture, in which cattle are feeding. He does not attack the poor ox in an open manner, because, as I told you, he was rather a coward. He -hovers over the ox, and by-and-by begins to shake the sand from his wings, ATTACK OF A SEA EAGLE UPON AN OX. 19 THE TUFTED EAGLE. SO that a great deal of it falls into the eyes of his intended victim. The ox is blinded, and also begins to get frightened by the noise of wings over his head. He runs about in a kind of panic, and as the noise goes on, and the sand keeps falling, he loses all sight and sense. There is generally a B 2 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. steep place like a precipice at the edge of the field, and the ox is almost sure, sooner or later, to run over it and be killed. Then the eagle can easily slip down and devour him. THE TUFTED EAGLE. There is a small eagle with a tuft on his head that lives in Africa, and has such a very dreamy appearance as he sits on the branch of a tree, that you think he is asleep, or else is a very stupid bird. He lives in those fertile parts of the country through which the river Nile flows and gladdens the scene. There are fields, and villages, and beautiful groves of the mimosa-tree. He often sits perched on a branch for hours together ; but he is not asleep, as you might suppose. Only watch a few minutes and see what will happen. Yonder is a little squirrel playing blithely among the branches. It is as happy as can be, and runs merrily about, as if it feared no evil. But by-and-by, in its gambols, it ventures near to where the eagle is sitting. The eagle has seen it all along, only he pretended not to do so. He did not want to frighten the squirrel away, but to get it into his clutches. Now the right moment has come. He rises, raises his wings, and gives a terrible pounce. You would not have thought he had been so strong or so fierce. But it is all over with the poor squirrel. Sometimes the eagle plays the same game with a mouse or a rat, or any little bird that, in its happy freedom and joy of heart, ventures heedlessly near the fatal spot. His eyes have a fiery expression, and are a bright yellow colour ; and his plumage is brown. His nest is in some tree, and is lined with feathers. Though he is small, he is as savage as any of his tribe ; but if he is kept in confinement, he becomes rather cowardly, and loses his ancient spirit. HA WRING. 21 PEREGRINE FALCON. In olden times, in " merrie England," as it used to be called, many ancient sports were carried on that have long since passed away. PEREGRINE FALCONS. One of these was hawking by means of a race of birds called falcons. The falcon used to be blindfolded, and fastened by a chain to the wrist of its STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. owner. He was then carried out into the fields, and when a wild fowl, or heron, or any suitable prey, was seen, the bird was unhooded, and let fly. The amusement, which was rather a cruel one, consisted in seeing the falcon strike down its prey. The art of falconry, or hawking, was such a fashionable amusement, that people of rank hardly ever stirred out without their hawks perched on their wrists ; and a man, called a falconer, was employed to take care of them and feed them. The peregrine falcon is of a family that once stood very high in the public esteem. His ancestors were used in hawking, and were fed and caressed by kings and nobles. No one was allowed to injure them, or to meddle with their nests. But times have changed since then. The descendants of those highly favoured hawks are now in little esteem. It is true they possess the same qualities. They are as bold, and as brave, and their sight is as keen as ever ; their plumage is as handsome, and they could be taught just as readily. But fashions are altered, and no one wants them. They are now despised and persecuted, and may be shot with impunity, or their nests rifled without the least danger. In the old days of hawking, the bird that was chosen for the purpose must possess certain qualities, all of which were united in the peregrine falcon. He was full of spirit and daring, and would attack any bird without hesi- tation ; and he had great strength of muscle, and was able to contend with the larger kind of game; and, joined with these qualities, he was very obedient to his master, came at the word of command, and could be petted and caressed by those who had the care of him. In fact, the falcon was called " noble," because he was the noblest of all the birds of prey. His shape is very compact, with a full, well-rounded breast, short neck, and large head ; his bill is short and thick ; and his eyes are large and keen, and of a deep hazel colour ; his claws are, as you see, very strong and well curved, and able to grasp and seize almost anything ; his plumage is dense and strong, more so than that of the rest of his family. Its general colour is deep bluish grey, and the wings are barred with black ; the throat and neck are white. The mother bird is the larger of the two, and her plumage is redder on the lower part and less blue on the upper. In the old days she was always called the " falcon," and her mate the " tercel," and he was flown at the smaller game, such as partridges and magpies. The peregrine falcon is often seen in the wild moors of Scotland, for here he finds plenty of grouse and partridges and ANECDOTE OF A FALCON. 23 rabbits ; and occasionally he falls upon a young gull — that is, during his visits to the coast. He flies swiftly, and does not often balance himself in the air as the eagle does, for his wings are shorter. When he sees his prey he pounces upon it in a slanting direction. He is a silent bird, except when he has a family to care for, and that makes him anxious and excited, and he utters now and then a clear shrill cry. He is extremely daring when he is hungry, as you may think from a little anecdote I can tell you. One day a sportsman on the moors saw a falcon hovering over a grouse, and following it about. By-and-by he dropped down upon it, and when the sportsman came up with his dogs, the falcon was devouring his prey. His partner was close by, feeding on another grouse. Of course, the birds were obliged to rise, but they did so very unwillingly, and barely kept out of the way of the dogs. Meanwhile, the dogs started several grouse, and the falcons must have thought it was done for their special benefit. They pounced on them every one, and struck them down under the eyes of the sportsman, and as if in defiance of him. The nest of the falcon is on the face of a cliff, and, as a rule, beyond the reach of man. It is very large, and is made of sticks mixed with the stems of grasses. There are three or four eggs in the nest, of a dull red colour, with dark spots. The young falcons are supplied with abundance of food. The parent birds can bring them pheasants and pigeons and plovers, and all the delicacies of the season. In the islands of Shetland the peregrine falcon chooses the most rocky and desolate spots. He and his partner make their nest on the face of very high cliffs. No other falcon seems inclined to live in the same cliff", for the birds are not social. But the different kinds of gulls and sea-birds crowd the cliff, and build their nests in every ledge. The falcon does not regret this arrangement in the least. He con- siders a young gull to be a dainty morsel, and he is sure of getting a great many. He waits till the old birds are out of the way, and then drops suddenly down on the nest, and carries off the little gull he has been longing for. 24 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. THE GOSHAWK. The hawks may be said to be cousins to the falcons. They are moderately- sized birds, and occupy a position between the falcons and the buzzards. ,.^\ ^ n THE GOSHAWK. Their bodies are rather slender, their wings short and round, while the tail is long. They fly low when they are searching for prey, and have a gliding and THE GOSHAWK. 25 stealthy manner. They nestle in trees or on rocks, and their nest is a little like that of the crow. There are but two species in England. One is the goshawk, the bird in the picture, that is so rare it is hardly ever met with ; and the other is the bold, hardy, and rather insolent sparrow-hawk, which is as common as his relation the goshawk is rare. The goshawk may be known from his cousins the falcons by the curve of the upper part of his bill, which is peculiar to the hawk family. He is not THE SPARROW-HAWK. SO strong as they are, though he is quite as large ; but his way of flying at his prey is different. He does not make a swoop, but glides along in a line after it — a mode of proceeding which, in the language of falconry, is called " raking." The goshawk used to be in great favour in those hawking days, and was let fly at pheasants and hares and partridges. He used to make a great dash, and even go through a wood or thicket after the prey. But if he did not soon catch it, he seemed to grow tired, and give up the pursuit. He would then perch on some bough of a tree, and wait patiently till a new victim appeared, or until the old one came again within his range. If the game lay hidden close by, the goshawk, perched on his bough, would wait 26 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. for it to move. He would remain motionless for hours and hours, until the intended victim was forced by hunger to come out of its lair ; then the hawk would pounce down upon it. The nest of the goshawk is placed in some high tree on the outskirts of a wood, and the birds will occupy it year after year. There are three or four eggs, of a pale bluish white. THE SECRETARY BIRD. This very warlike-looking bird might, at first sight, be thought to belong to the tribe of long-legged storks or cranes. But if you examine his curved beak, you will see that in reality he is a bird of prey. Indeed, some people call him the " secretary eagle." The reason why the name " secretary " has been given him is because of the crest of feathers on the back of his head, that have a fancied resemblance to a pen stuck behind the ear of a person employed in writing. But he might be said to have a link with another family of birds, namely,, the running birds. He cannot grasp like the eagle, and he does not live, like his noble relative, on high mountains, or soar towards the clouds. On the contrary, he keeps on the ground, and runs here and there on his long legs. So that you perceive it is rather a difficult matter to find out where to place him among our feathered friends. He is one of the most useful birds I can name, and in certain parts of the world is cherished with the utmost care. I need not tell you that he does not live in England ; and if he did, there would be very little for him to eat. Happily we have not many snakes, except a few small harmless ones ; for though you will remind me of the viper, it is very rare, and hardly ever seen except in woods and solitary places. At any rate, we have none of those great serpents that abound in the places where the secretary bird lives. He does not object to Hzards, and even beetles, by way of variety ; and as he runs about on the hot, dusty plains of Africa, he finds plenty. But this is child's play ; he likes best of all to do battle with a serpent. Many venomous snakes are found in these hot countries, and the natives VENOMOUS SNAKES. 27 dread them beyond measure. It is true the snake will rarely attack a man, and, as a rule, glides away from him ; but sometimes he may chance to come THE SECRETARY JilRU, too near it, as it lies coiled up, and if its terrible fangs do but touch him, he is sure to die speedily. And there are many stories told of snakes that by mistake have got into a house, and even nestled under a pillow. 2 8 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. The secretary bird is always on the look-out for this natural enemy of man. In the picture he is engaged in a fierce battle with a serpent. The serpent is, as you see, in a rage. At first all its attempts were directed to getting back to its hole, but its enemy was more than a match for it. Which- ever way it turned the bird hopped just in its path, and stood with flashing eyes and outspread wings. Then the serpent was fairly roused. It raised itself up, swelled out its dreadful neck, and darted out its fangs. For a moment the bird gave way a little, and seemed as if considering what to do. But his courage soon revived. He was resolved not to be cheated of his prey, so he covered himself with one wing as with a shield, and struck violently at the serpent with the other. The serpent was knocked down by the blow, and every time it attempted to rise, the bird struck at it again. At last the snake could rise no more, and then the bird killed it by striking its head with his beak. These kind of battles are often taking place, and the bird is much admired for his courage. He is considered a most valuable member of society, and his family have been invited over to the plantations in the West Indies. Here they are highly esteemed, and no one ever thinks of harming them. The plantations abound in snakes, and their number is thinned by the intro- duction of these their inveterate enemies. When the snake is small enough, the bird snaps it up, and carries it off to the top of a tree. Then he lets it drop, and follows it, as it descends, with much adroitness, so as to be ready to strike it when it lies stunned on the ground. He does not always strike with his wing, but with the sole of his foot. He always kills his prey before he devours it. Serpents are not his only food, for he preys upon lizards and tortoises and insects. The hot unwholesome marsh is full of insects, and the secretary bird thins their number ; so that every way he is useful. He and his partner make a large nest, in which two eggs are laid. He does not choose his partner without fighting a great many battles. Yet he has not at all a fierce temper, but rather otherwise ; and after the choice has been made there are no more quarrels. THE VULTURE. 29 THE VULTURE. Almost every one dislikes the vulture. His very name is thought to express cowardice and gluttony, and every unpleasant quality. He is not to be com- W%f% THE VULTURE. pared to the eagle and the other birds of prey, and his place hardly seems to be among them. His head and neck are bare of feathers, and his plumage is coarse and ill kept ; his eyes are prominent, and his claws shorter. Indeed, he cannot carry his prey through the air as the eagle does, but is obliged to stay and devour it on the spot. 30 STOHIES ABOUT BIRDS. His prey consists of dead creatures, and he has not the courage to attack living ones. Unless, indeed — and this fact shows his cowardly nature — unless the poor creature is either wounded or dying, and can offer no resistance. His family are spread all over the world, but are more abundant in hot countries than in cold ones. Happily we have no vultures in England, and none are wanted. They are wanted in many places, for people in tropical towns and cities have not very neat habits. They allow heaps of rubbish to lie about in the streets, and dead creatures are thrown there in a way that would not be tolerated in England. But the disagreeable vulture does not object to act as a scavenger ; it is in accordance with his nature ; and he and his companions busy themselves in clearing away the rubbish, that, if it were left, would soon cause a fever. In this respect the bird is useful. In South America there are vast herds of wild cattle, that are the riches of the inhabitants. Many of them, nay, even thousands, are driven every day to the town to be killed and then salted, and packed up and sent away as an article of food. Of course, this kind of business always being carried on, would be very unpleasant to the inhabitants, for the streets become littered all over with refuse parts of the meat. But the town is full of vultures, that are as tame as domestic poultry. No one meddles with them, and they employ themselves all day long in clearing away the decaying matter into their own greedy maws. So that the town is kept quite neat and clean, com- pared to what it would be. Here again the bird may be said to be useful. And in the open country, and on the mountains and sea-shore, and, indeed, everywhere, are the vultures plying their trade. If a camel falls on the desert, or a mule in the passes of the mountains, its body is not left to decay and to poison the air. As if by magic, a vulture is sure to appear, and then another, and another. In an hour, nothing will be left but a heap of bones, picked as clean and as bare as possible. The eagle sometimes condescends to preside at these feasts, and then the vultures keep at a distance until he is satisfied. After every morsel has been eaten, the vultures will be so full that they cannot rise, and can only hop along the ground. There is one of the family, called the white vulture, that has a great fancy for the eggs of the crocodile. You would think he had very little chance of getting any of them, guarded as they are by the fierce mother crocodile. THE VULTURE AND THE CROCODILE S EGGS. 31 But all the while she was burying them in the sand, according to her usual habit, the vultures were watching her. By-and-by she finished her task, scraped the sand over the place, and went away for a little diversion, perhaps to wallow in the mud by the river-side. THE TAWNY GOOSE VULTURE. The moment she was out of sight, the vultures, for there were several of them, began to bestir themselves. They uttered loud cries, and pouncing down on the nest, began to scrape away the sand, and devour the eggs. The same vulture contrives to get a taste of the eggs of the ostrich. The natives declare that when the parent birds are away from the nest, a stone is seen to fall into it as if from the sky. But, in reality, the vulture has dropped 32 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. it from where he is hovering high up over the nest, on purpose to break the eggs. Then down he comes, and feasts upon them to his heart's content. The tawny goose vultures are met with in almost every part of Africa, and are very tame. They have the useful habits of their tribe, and clear away rubbish in a very short space of time. THE CONDOR. The grandest of all the birds of prey is the condor. He can soar higher than the eagle, and though he belongs to the tribe of vultures, that are an inferior race to the king of birds, yet he excels him in size, in strength, and in fierceness. Indeed, none in the whole family of birds can compare or compete with him. The size of the condor is immense. When the wings are spread out they measure as much as twelve or fourteen feet across. He loves the mountain ranges of the Andes ; and here the solitary traveller often sees him, soaring aloft until he becomes a mere speck, and entering a region where man could not breathe the rarefied air. At night the condor rests on the ledges of the rock ; and when the sun gilds the mountain tops, and while it is yet dark in the valleys, he rouses himself, flaps his wings, and peers over the ledge into the abyss below ; then he dives over, and seems as if sinking by the great weight of his body ; but soon he rises, and begins to move upwards in sweeping circles, until he ascends often as much as four miles above the level of the sea. By-and-by he descends to the shore, and his loud screech is heard with the dashing of the surf When hovering in the air he will spy out his prey in the valley below. Sometimes it is a lamb, or a sheep, or a mule that has fallen dead on the mountains. True to his nature as a vulture, he will not reject dead prey, but he is equally glad of it even when alive. His talons cannot clutch the prey as do those of the eagle, and he does THE CONDOR. 33 not attempt to bear it aloft in the same way as the royal bird ; he is obliged to eat it on the spot. THE CONDOR. He fixes it as it were, to the ground with his claws, and then rends and devours it with his beak. 34 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. Like the rest of his race, he is a great glutton, and will feed until he is unable to rise again into the air. He may then be approached, but rather at your peril, since he fights desperately, and is more difficult to kill than almost any creature in the world. We can tell you an anecdote about the condor's power of life. A miner in Chili, a very strong man, once saw a condor enjoying his feast on the mountains. He had eaten so much that he could not fly, and the man attacked and tried to kill him. The battle lasted a long time, and the man was nearly exhausted. But in the end he thought he was the victor, and left the condor dead, as he imagined, on the field. Some of the feathers he carried off in triumph to show to his companions, and told them he had never fought so fierce a battle. The other miners went to look at the condor, when, to their surprise, he was standing erect, flapping his wings, in order to fly away. A bird with such powers of life continues to exist years and years. Indeed, the condor is said to live for a century. The Indian tries to catch the condor by stratagem. He employs him to fight in a ring, at those cruel bull-fights which are the favourite amusements in that part of the world. He does not attempt to attack the condor openly, for he knows how strong he is, and he wishes, besides, to take him alive. He procures the skin of a cow, and hides himself beneath it. Some pieces of flesh are left hanging to the skin, and are sure to attract the condor. He comes pouncing on the prey, and while he is feeding with his usual greediness the Indian contrives to fasten his legs to the skin. When this is done, he comes out of his concealment, and the bird sees him for the first time. He flaps his wings, and would fly but that his feet are entangled ; and, more than this, a number of other Indians come running up, and throw their mantles over him. There is another way of taking the condor, but without saving his life. In a certain place in the mountains there is a large, deep chasm, that might be almost called a condor trap. A dead mule is placed on the brink of the chasm, and very soon the condors scent it out. Down they come, and soon pull the mule over into the abyss. They follow with haste, and feast until they can scarcely stir. Then the Indians follow with sticks, and kill as many as they can. THE KITE. 35 The condor does not trouble to make a nest, but chooses a hollow in the cliff, where the mother bird lays her eggs. Both parents devote themselves to the young ones, and feed them with the utmost care and attention. The young birds grow very slowly, but at the end of six weeks they begin to flutter round their parents. After a few months they fly off to seek their own fortune. The condor is a handsome bird. His shining black feathers are two feet in length. His bill is very thick, and the point hooks downwards ; it is white at the tip, and the other part is a jet black. A short down covers the head ; and the feathers on the breast, neck, and wings are of a light brown. THE KITE. Have you ever, on a summer's day, seen a bird gliding about in a circle, with outspread wings and extended tail .' His way of flying was like that of the eagle, and yet he was a much smaller bird. Sometimes he balanced himself in the air, and ceased to move, but hung suspended, as it were, on nothing. Then, while you were still looking, he glided downwards to the ground. While poised in the air, his keen eye had been fixed on some object below ; for he seeks his food on the ground, and is very quick at spying it out. Lizards, frogs, mice, and even young birds, fall into his clutches : nothing comes amiss to the kite. He is a bird of prey as much as the eagle, only that he has not the strength or the bravery of the king of the birds ; and he descends to acts of theft and violence, like the whole of the tribe, great or small. He is often hovering over the farmyard, and if the hen does not take care of her chickens, he is pretty certain to carry some of them off. But he is a sad coward ; and if the hen sees him, and comes rushing out, as she always does under the circumstances, looking angry and excited, and with her feathers ruffled, he never attempts to withstand her. He would do •anything rather than fight, and she drives him away as easily as possible. C 2 36 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. The brave little sparrow-hawk, a relative, as I told you, of the goshawk, can do anything he likes with him. He is the smallest of the two, and, we must confess, has a very quarrelsome temper ; but the kite flies away as fast as he can to get out of his way. He seems as if he would hide himself in the very clouds. But the sparrow-hawk is bent on finishing the squabble, and he goes after him, and beats and buffets him, till the kite is often brought to the ground, more frightened, perhaps, than hurt. The kite often gets into trouble by his love for young ducks and chickens. He is so intent on his act of plunder, and so greedily desirous of his prey, that he forgets his usual caution. A hen-coop once stood in a farmyard, and the young ducklings, which a hen had hatched, were waddling about and enjoying themselves. The kite saw what was going on, and knew that the hen could not interpose ; so he made a great pounce upon a poor little duckling. The duckling screamed loudly, and ran to the pond for safety. The kite followed as close as could be, and even ventured into the pond after it. In the meantime the servant-girl had heard the screams, and went to see what was the matter. The kite could not fly all at once, and the girl had time to knock him over with a broom. In the engraving, the kite is sitting on the bough of a tree, as if he had had his repast, and were quite content. You can see from his hooked beak and sharp talons that he is related to the eagle and the hawk. His beak is short, and his plumage soft and glossy. Truly he is a handsome bird ; and if he were to leave his bough, you would see that his manner of flying is very graceful. His wings are long, and his tail is forked ; he glides and wheels about in all kinds of attitudes, and it is a pretty sight to watch him. In some parts of Scotland he is very rare, and it is quite a matter of surprise to see a kite. Once a kite used to make his appearance every day about the same hour, and wheel, and curve, and go through all his evolutions, to the great delight of the people who saw him. They would stand and watch him in wonder and admiration. A naturalist tried in vain to catch the bird, and followed him over moor and mountain. The kite always kept out of his way ; but as he glided along he would swoop now on a partridge, and now a grouse. Indeed, he made great havoc among the game. His love of game cost him his life ; for one day he was so intent on devouring a partridge that he did not see his enemy stealing along THE NEST OF THE KITE. 37 towards him ; and then the cruel gun was raised, and down dropped the poor kite. The nest of the kite is made of sticks, and Hned with feathers and dowa THE COMMON KITE. It is placed in the fork of a tree in some deep wood. The eggs are of a dirty white, with a few red-brown spots. When his nest is attacked, he becomes very bold, and will scream and go into a great excitement ; and he will attack the intruder, and try to drive him away. 38 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. Two young kites were once taken from the nest and tamed. They became very friendly and affectionate. Every morning they were allowed to fly at liberty, and they used to soar in the air, and make a great many of their graceful curves. But they never went far from home, and always came back to their owner. There is a kite in America, called the Mississippi kite, that is a bird of passage, and makes his appearance with the swallows. He comes sailing up the grand and mighty river after which he is named, sweeping along, now with the wind, and now against it. All the time he is looking out for prey. The air is full of giddy whirling insects, that have come out to enjoy the sun, and he swallows some of them in passing. His quick eye notes every object on the bank. Yonder is something that shines with a green colour changing to brown. It is the throat of a lizard that has climbed up the trunk of a tree to look out for food. It feels by a kind of instinct that the kite is near, and is struck motionless with fear. It does not attempt to move, but seems as if it were turned to stone. Another moment the kite has pounced upon it, and it is seen no more. Sometimes the kites in that part of the world assemble in a group, and sweep round and round a tree. They are catching the locusts that are beginning to be a scourge, and for this very useful act one should think the inhabitants ought to be grateful. The kites build their nest in the thick boughs of the bay-tree, and here they rear their young. They are devoted parents, and feed and tend the little kites until they are able to get their own living. A mother kite once took her young one in her claws, and carried it out of the reach of a gun that was being fired from below. THE BUZZARD. The buzzard is a relation of the falcon, as you can see by the curve in his beak. And you can tell pretty much what kind of a life he leads by the atti- tude in which he stands. He has the same habits as the kite, and has been I THE BUZZARD AND ITS PREY. 39 flying over and over the ground in a slow and steady manner, looking for prey. He eats worms and mice, and even little birds when he can get them. On this occasion he spied a rat running along the ground, and at once struck it down with his talons. Like the hawk, he kills with a single blow. ?^^^^fi THE COMMON, OR MOUSE BUZZARD. When he has finished his meal, he will retire to the branch of a tree, or to the ledge of a rock, and repose until he has digested it. Then he will issue forth again, and sweep over the country, or sail about with his wings expanded to their fullest extent. Then he looks very much like the eagle. His nest is built in a tree, or else on the shelf of a rock. It is made of 40 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. sticks and twigs and heath, and has a rude Hning of wool. While the mother bird is sitting, her partner is very attentive to her wants, and is constantly bringing her food. In some parts of Scotland the buzzard is very rare, though we often see him in England. But now and then the Scotch farmer sees a bird hunting about in the fields, with a wavering, uncertain flight, and making all kinds of turns and twists. Soon he observes it drop down suddenly on some unwary prey beneath, and he knows that it is the buzzard. He ought to feel a friendship for the buzzard, instead of shooting him. The mice nibble the corn, and the more they are seized the better. And when the corn is ripe, a number of pretty ring-doves will come in flocks to eat it. The buzzard would have caught a great many of them, if the farmer had not shot him. THE SNAKE BUZZARD. Look at the picture in the next page, and you will see that the snake that hangs from the bough of the tree has just been killed by a very useful bird — the snake buzzard. In countries where these venomous reptiles abound, it is of the utmost importance that their numbers should be thinned. It is true the snake, as a rule, has a dread of man, and will bustle away among the dead leaves on the ground when he hears footsteps approaching. Bi t many fatal accidents are always occurring, for the snake may be trodden on without being seen as he is coiled up asleep, or he may creep into the house. A lady once felt some- thing move under her pillow in the night. She took no notice, but the next morning, when the pillow was moved, there was a venomous snake coiled round, and it had lain there all night. Some of the birds of prey seem to have an especial desire to kill snakes. Besides the brave secretary bird, the buzzard of which wq are speaking does his part to keep them down. His family live in many parts of the world — in Europe, Asia, and Africa. He has great eyes, that shine like those of the cat THE SNAKE BUZZARD. 41 or the tiger in the dark. But he is not very fierce, though he quarrels very often with his companion buzzards. He has a way of hopping about a little THE SNAKE BUZZARD. like a raven, and he likes to sit on a solitary branch, as you see he is doing in the picture, and to take a survey of all around him. 42 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. It is a good thing that his feathers are so thick and close. They are like a suit of armour, and defend him from the bite of the snake. He does not mind what kind of snake it is, or how poisonous. He darts down and attacks it at once. His way of attack is by seizing the snake with his claws just on the nape of the neck. The snake is struck down, as it were, and cannot use its fangs- It often twists the rest of its body about, and wraps it quite round its enemy. But it cannot move its head, so there is no harm done ; and the buzzard gives it a great bite, and ends by killing it He eats the snake bit by bit until none of it is left. You must not suppose that he lives entirely on snakes, though he kills as many as he can, and will eat three great ones in the course of a morning. He does not object to rats and mice and other small animals, and he rather likes to fish in shallow pools, and has no objection to a crab, whenever he can find one. He is rather handsome in a suit of brown, his tail tipped with white, and the under part of his body white, with brown spots. He and his partner make a nest of young twigs of the trees, and line it with leaves. It is a little the shape of a saucer. THE SNOWY OWL. The owl is one of the birds that is very rarely seen. The reason is because of his secluded habits and his dislike to facing the light. It must be some very unusual circumstance that can bring him out in the day-time. A gardener was once working in a garden when he heard a very strange noise from the top of a tree. As he was very expert, he climbed up to see where the noise came from, and what it was that made it. When he got half way up the tree, two fierce white creatures dashed out and attacked him with beak and claws, making at the same time a terrible screaming. They were, as the intruder soon found to his cost, a pair of owls taking THE OWL. 43 care of their young in a nest at the top of the tree. And an owl in a passion is no pleasant object to meet with. THE SNOWY OWL. The man hurried down as fast as he could, but he had some difficulty in keeping off the owls. In spite of the daylight, they darted at him again and 44 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. again, wheeled round his head, and even pursued him, much scratched and frightened, to the very door of his retreat. But, as a rule, the owl lies very safe and snug in his roost, and does not stir till twilight. He is a very curious bird, and we must spend a few minutes in making rather a close acquaintance with him. He is a bird of prey, for he hunts mice and rats, and even small birds if they chance to be about in the twilight. His feet are formed on purpose to grasp the prey. The toes are feathered ; the first toe is the shortest, and the fourth toe is longer and can be turned backwards. The claws are long and curved, and very sharp. Do you notice the thick plumage of the owl .' It is as fine and soft as possible ; and when he drops from the branch of a tree to the ground, which he sometimes does, when he chances to spy a poor little mouse moving beneath, he makes no sound : the mouse cannot tell he is there until it feels the sharp talons. On the side of the head are some loose, slender feathers that make a circle, or, as it is called, a disc. And sometimes the owl has a tuft of upright feathers on each side of the head, like horns, and then he belongs to a family called horned owls. The eyes of the owl are very large, and the circle of feathers round them reflect the light upon them as a reflector does upon a lamp. But the worst of it is that these large eyes take in more light than the owl can bear. In the day-time he is blinded by the excess of light. This makes him appear as if he were stupid, and he blunders about as though he had lost his senses. The little birds hate the owl, for he pounces upon them whenever he can, and many of their companions have felt his cruel claws. It is fine sport to them if, by any mistake, the owl chances to be abroad in the day-time. They soon find it out, for one tells the other, and there is quite an uproar in the garden. It is never generous to take advantage of a defenceless enemy ; but the little birds do not think of this. They have many wrongs to revenge, and they fly at his face, and even peck him, taking care, however, to keep away from his claws, and they scold, and drive him about to their hearts' content. As a rule, he does not try to defend himself, but flutters dizzily about, and goggles with his great eyes. But if he stops and turns round upon them, the rabble rout at his heels take to flight in a moment. But the eyes of the owl, though they do not help him much in the day- time, are of the utmost service in the twilight. He can see the smallest speck on the ground, or the tiny mouse in the corner of the barn. And the farmer rather likes him on this account. One barn owl is as good, and will do as much work, as a dozen cats. But as there is no rule without an exception, so there are owls that can see by daylight. The snowy owl is one of these. You see he is not hiding in a corner, but sits very composedly on the bough of a tree, and does not wink or blink although it is day-time. He lives in the northern parts of Europe, and goes southward when winter approaches. His flight is noiseless, like that of the other owls, but he can continue on the wing for a long time. Sometimes he hunts in the air. He spies a pigeon or a wild duck, and he sets himself to follow it. With his swift and steady flight he soon gains upon it. Then he strikes it with his talons, a little in the same manner as the hawks do. He loves the margin of rivers or streams, and if there is a rapid, or a waterfall, he is all the better pleased. There he stations himself, for plenty of fishes are sure to be drawn over, and then he pounces upon them. He also goes to the trap in which some small animal, such as the rat, is caught, and devours it. His diet consists also of larger prey, such as hares and squirrels, and his meals are excessive. You would wonder how his stomach could hold the amount of food put into it. But, happily, it has the power of stretching out like india-rubber, which exactly suits him. If the snowy owl could not hunt in the day-time, I do not know what would become of him. For in those northern regions, at certain seasons of the year, there is no night at all. When he is taken alive and kept in captivity, he is very gentle, but easily alarmed. Then he raises his head, opens his mouth, and utters a sharp low cry. The owls build their nests on steep rocks, or among the branches of the pine. The mother bird lays two eggs of a pure white. Sometimes it is said that the nest is placed on the ground. A ship was once sailing to America, when the people on board saw a snowy owl far out at sea and skimming the waves. Though he must have been a long time on the wing, he did not seem at all tired, but rose and fell with the crested billows as though he enjoyed the sport. When the vessel returned to England, a naturalist who was on board had a snowy owl as a pet. He had bought him of an Indian, and kept him during the voyage. At first the owl was very timid, and tried to get away if any one came near him. But by degrees he became more courageous, and devoured the pieces of meat given to him with an excellent appetite. His disposition was very gentle, and he never attempted to strike with his claws, or to bite anybody. The captain put up a roost for the owl, and used to amuse himself by shaking hands, as he called it. This was done by putting one of his fingers among the talons of the bird and shaking the foot, often very roughly. But the owl seemed highly delighted, and used to support himself on the other leg. He was a great favourite with the sailors, and they used to give him all the scraps of meat they could. Indeed, he was so used to be fed that he would take the bits from them when dozing on his perch, and without being at the trouble of opening his eyes. One day, as he was having a nap, a sailor held his hands full of salt water before him. The owl thought the water was meant for a bath, and dropped his head into it, a mistake that was very unpleasant. The next time the trick -Cvas played the owl knew better, and gave the sailor a great bite. One day at dinner, when the sea was very rough, the owl was thrown from his perch, and alighted on the bald head of the carpenter, who was sitting at the table. The carpenter pushed him off", and he flew to the mate, and settled himself firmly on his thick bushy hair. Nor did he seem in any hurry to depart, for though the mate kept striking at him, every blow was repaid with interest by a hard grip of the talons, and a box on each ear from the two powerful wings. At length, however, when the sea became calmer and the vessel ceased to rock, the owl went away to his perch. The plumage of this owl, as you may suppose from his name, is white, and in the winter can hardly be distinguished from the snow. The only part of our own islands that he inhabits is Shetland, and once or twice he has been seen in Orkney. He likes solitary districts, and in these islands does not, as in America, come abroad in the day-time. On the approach of twilight, he prowls over the fields in search of mice THE SHORT-EARED OWL. 47, and small birds. When he first leaves his retreat, the crows and other birds attack him. But he seems more amused by their clamour than alarmed at it, and dashing through the air soon leaves them behind. He is considered a bird of ill omen, and few people like to meddle with him. THE SnORT-EARED OWL. THE SHORT-EARED OWL. Now and then the sportsman, as he makes his way over the fields in the south of England, rouses a bird that was sitting very contentedly by the green margin of a stream or brook. 48 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. He was just in the position in which you see him in the picture, and appeared in a half dozing condition. But on being disturbed he flew away, darting hither and thither in different directions. Wlien he had proceeded in this way a few hundred yards, he stopped and settled down again. It is not clearly known whether he hunts by daylight, but, at any rate, he has rather peculiar habits, considering he is an owl. He is often seen among turnips, or by the side of a hedge, and even among the long grass. He is called the short-eared owl, and he has, as you see, two little tufts on his head, though they do not show much. His eyes are surrounded by brownish-black feathers, that give him a very sleepy appearance. He is never seen to perch on a tree, but generally hides in the grass, and likes open barren situations. His nest even is placed on the ground, or among reeds and rushes. One nest was found upon a moor or common. It was made by scooping a hole, and then the eggs were placed in it without any further preparation. In America a nest has been seen on a mountain ridge, and another under a bush. It was built in a slovenly way, of dry grass raked together, and was very large. The mother owl was sitting on her eggs, and would not have been noticed if she had not made a curious clucking noise with her bill. She was so intent on her business of hatching, that she allowed herself to be touched before she hopped away. And then she went a very little distance, and came back as soon as the intruder was gone. THE STONE OWL. The stone owl looks so very wise that he has been called " Minerva's owl.'' For Minen^a, as I dare say some of you know, was worshipped by the ancient Greeks as the goddess of wisdom. And the Greeks knew the stone owl very well, and used to paint him in the picture of their goddess. His body is dark grey, spotted with white ; and his knowing little ikce is a greyish white. In the picture he looks as if he had been studying some hard problem, and were coming out of his lair to give us the benefit of his learning. He has one habit that has made him rather dreaded by ignorant people. THE STONE OWL. 49 He likes to hide in an old wall, or behind a tomb in a churchyard. And from out the darkness he will give a very unpleasant screech as he issues forth to seek his food. Like the rest of his tribe, he flies without making a sound ; but the peasant who is hurrying home hears the screech, and pretends that the bird is telling him that some misfortune will happen ; so he dislikes the stone owl very much. But the family of stone owls are met with in many parts of the world. THE STO.Nt, UWL. They live very happily together, and often go in a body in search of food. Though they fly by night, they can sec well in the day-time ; and they are very useful in clearing the houses of rats and mice. We do not mean English houses, but the d^vcllings of workmen and artisans in Italy. They eat up the mice and insects that infest the place, and m return their master feeds them, and is very kind to them. The wise little owls often sit in a row over his head while he is at work. A near relative of Minerva's owl is met with abroad, and has a very curious history. He is as much like the bird we have been speaking of as can D so STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. be, but he has a different name. He is called the burrowing owl, or the mouse owl ; but this term is not strictly correct. He does not burrow for himself, but lives in the burrows that have been already made by the marmot. He is sitting now at the entrance of the marmot's hole as if it belonged to him. He is almost always found there. The marmots and the owls seem as if they lived together, but they do not. It is only when an enemy comes near that they both squat down under shelter together. But they frisk about in company, so that at a distance they are often taken one for the other. The marmot is often called the " prairie dog," and the burrows, it makes, that are very large, and extend a great way, go by the name of " prairie village." In some parts of North America the " prairie village " reaches under ground for miles together. At any rate, the owl has quite discarded the habits of his family. He lives in open daylight, and hunts about in the full blaze of the sun. He has no kind of intimacy with the marmots, as some people used to think from seeing him so much in their company. He usually selects a burrow that has been deserted, and his nest, that is made of grass, is placed at the entrance of the hole. Four white eggs are laid in the nest ; and the food of the young ones is grasshoppers, or crickets, or even field mice. The owl often perches on a bush over his hole for a long time together. When any one comes near, he makes a low chattering sound, and skims along the plain. If he is attacked on the wing, he makes for the nearest burrow, and takes shelter there. Then it is no easy matter to dislodge him. In the winter the owls retreat to their burrow, and are said by the Indians to fall into a torpid state. At any rate, their burrow is in a very different condition from that of the marmot. It is ruinous and neglected, while that of the marmot is well kept, and as comfortable as possible. THE GREAT HORNED OWL. Far away In the deep forests of North America the traveller has sometimes paused to rest, and to cook his supper, gipsy fashion, on a stick, and by a fire lighted of dry leaves and twigs. THE GREAT HORNED OWL. 51 The fire burns brightly, and throws a ruddy light on the trees around. He and his companions are glad to stretch their wearied limbs, and to partake of the repast. No sound is heard of bird or animal, and scarcely a leaf stirs. But, all at once, close to their ears, there breaks out a succession of unearthly shrieks, mixed with wild laughter. It is as if some person were being strangled in their very presence. ..^ - rilK ORKAT IIORN'l-.D OWL. Perhaps a minute after, a large dark object sweeps round the fire, still uttering discordant sounds. He is the great horned owl, that was sitting close by, though the travellers did not see him. The agreeable odour of the food roused him, and he came out to see if he might share the feast. These deep and boundless forests are the home he loves. His voice renders him an object of dread, there is something so unearthly about it. D 2 52 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. And among some of the Indian tribes, the priest often carries a stuffed oivl at the top of his head, with large sparkling glass eyes. He considers it an emblem of mystery, yet there is no mystery about the bird. He is simply a bird of prey, and with all the habits of his race. All day he hides himself in some thick bush, and is rarely seen to venture abroad ; but when night comes, out he flies, and sweeps round and round in search of food. He has a large strong bill, and two tufts of feathers stand up like horns on either side of his head. He utters hideous noises as he flies — so hideous, that you would suppose all living creatures would fly from the sound. Rabbits, squirrels, mice, rats, and little birds are his favourite food ; and if he can rob the hen roost, so much the better. One that was kept in a cage became rather troublesome, not by devour- ing chickens, but by barking like a dog. The master of the house could not sleep for the constant yelp, yelp, of the supposed cur. And a large Newfoundland dog was so deceived that he kept barking in reply. At last the gentleman got up, and took his stick, and sallied forth to drive away the intruder. But no dog was to be seen, and he at last traced the yelping sound to the cage of the owl. On a clear night, the owl will bark in this way till the morning. The owls live all the year round in the forests. They make a nest in the fork of some great tree. It is built of a great many sticks piled altogether, and lined with dry leaves and feathers. Sometimes a hollow tree is chosen. There are four pure white eggs laid in the nest, nearly as large as hens' eggs. After the young ones have left the nest, the bones and feathers of many little birds have been found in it. Even the poor woodpecker has fallen a victim. An owl of this species is now and then— but very seldom — seen in Britain. He is like the bird in the picture, and is called by many names, such as the duke owl, or the great-eared owl. He is said also to live in the islands of Orkney, in Scotland, and to be caught napping now and then on the ledges of the hills. Nothing is known of his habits here, where he is so rarely seen. But he is not so uncommon in Sweden, and a pretty anecdote is told about him. There was an owl's nest near to a gentleman's house, and one day the servants caught a young bird that was unable to fly, and put it in a hen-coop. The next day a dead partridge was found lying close by the coop, that had THE SWALLOW. 53 been brought in the night. The next morning some other little animal or bird was found. And this went on for a fortnight. The gentleman and his servants both watched to see who had provided for the wants of the little captive, and there was no doubt but the parent birds had done it. THE SWALLOW. In summer the whole air is filled with flies and insects, myriads of them too small for our eyes to see. The swallow is the bird that from morning till night is occupied in catching them. She comes as soon as they do. With the early spring the great temple of Nature opens, so to say, her gates and doors, and forth rush living creatures by millions. Countless eggs are hatched, thousands and tens of thousands of tiny grubs and caterpillars spring into life, and in their turn become perfect insects. The chrysalis, that has lain all winter swathed up in some secret spot, now has its bands unloosed, and flutters out on wings. By the brook, in the meadows, and among the trees, there is a hum and a stir of life everywhere ! The swallow knows that her banquet is spread. When it grew late in the autumn there were no flies, and there could be no swallows. So the swallows, who had been for some time gathering together in flocks or companies, went away, no one knew with any exactness whither. This part of the swallow's history has to be made clear to us some day. We are told the little bands are seen sailing far over the sea, towards the hot regions of Africa, or other parts of the torrid zone. And they have some- times rested on the mast of a ship, just, as it were, to take breath. They can go many hours without resting, as we know, for they keep on the wing from morning till night. Sometimes in winter, in frost and snow, a poor half-dead swallow has been found in an odd out-of-way place. Why she was left behind, we have no means of guessing. After all, the birds keep many secrets from us. But hail to the spring ! The swallows are come ! The first that comes is our old friend the chimney swallow, that appears early in_ April, before the cold weather is over, and is a proof of the old adage, that " one swallow does not make a summer." It is often so much the worse for him. The cold east wind that troubles us so long in the spring kills or benumbs the insects, and the poor swallow cannot find a single fly to eat. Then all that the swallows can do, is to seek out some sheltered nook, in which to drag on a kind of existence on the few insects that, like themselves, have taken refuge there. One spring the swallows came as usual, but the weather changed, and they went away, and everybody wondered what had become of them. The weather was extremely cold, and no insects were about. At last some one happened to find his way to a sheltered place, in a valley near to the sea, and lo and behold ! there were the swallows flying about by hundreds. There they had found a few insects on which to subsist. But they had no great amount of food, and were in a very feeble state, and obliged to settle and rest themselves every few minutes. The swallows have been seen crossing the Channel, on their way to England, either singly or in flocks. They seem very much tired, and are glad to settle on the boats that are on the water. Sometimes a swallow is so exhausted she can hardly fly from one end of the boat to the other, when a sailor tries to catch her. And a sailor declares that he saw one drop on the sea with her wings expanded, as if quite spent ; then, after a few minutes of rest, she rose again refreshed, and flew off merrily. All the strength of the swallow is in her wing ; her feet arc feeble, and her legs very small. She could not walk very well upon them ; but then she is not much used to walking. Though her feet are feeble, the toes arc strong, and the joints very loose. There is a horny claw at the end of the toe, and she can cling if she cannot walk. She often wants to cling when she is building her nest, and sometimes to hold on to the wall — a feat that seems rather difficult to perform. But the loose toes are drawn up by some muscles that go up the leg, and then they can clutch quite tight to anything. And she often plasters her nest as she clings, and rests a little on her stiff tail. Her tail is forked and like a rudder, that guides her through the air. You have a good view of it in the picture, for it is quite expanded, and shows the two white spots beneath. Her eyes project, and are no doubt very terrible to the insect world. She catches her prey as she flies, with her wide gaping mouth. Her throat is THE SWALLOW. 55 often full of clusters of flies that she has swallowed, and that stick together in little lumps. Some of these are no doubt intended for the little brood at home. There is a sticky substance in her mouth, that helps to catch the flies. SWALLOWS. The swallow has been called a mason bird, because her nest is usually made of moist earth or clay. But she always makes a comfortable bed of feathers for the little ones to rest upon. 56 STOHIES ABOUT BIRDS. There are five kinds of swallows that come to us in the summer. There is the chimney swallow, the swift, that makes a squealing noise as he flies, the house martin, about which we shall have something to say, and the sand martin, that makes deep burrows in a cliff or in a sand-bank, and places her nest at the bottom, a little after the fashion of the kingfisher. In fine dry weather, you see the swallows fly high up in the air, but in rainy seasons they come lower, and skim near the ground. Their way of flying high or low depends upon the insects, for when it rains or is damp, the insects come near the ground ; and these are what the swallow is look- ing for. For a short time after their arrival, the swallows seem to be doing nothing but enjoying themselves, and recovering from the fatigues of the journey. By-and-by, however, they begin to think of building their nests. The old birds go back to those already made, and find the old homes out by instinct. The chimney swallow does not always build in the stack of chimneys, but chooses often to place her nest under the eaves of an outhouse, or even among the rafters of a barn. One spring a pair of swallows were resolved to build in the rafters of a summer-house. They were not in the least disturbed by the constant presence of persons going in and out, but completed their task, carrying pellets of mud and soft earth in their beaks, and bents of grass to mix with it. When the saucer-shaped nest was finished, the eggs were laid and hatched without any misfortune happening. The young nestlings had now to be fed every few minutes from morning till night. It was a matter of curiosity how the old swallows would like to pass in and out over the heads of persons sitting in the summer-house, and who, by putting out their hands, could touch the nest. But this fact did not deter them from performing their parental duties, and the little birds grew and throve merrily. Their heads were soon seen peering above the edge of the nest. As a rule, they were silent ; but long before any one could discern the parent bird, they had spied her out in the far distance. They would set up a chirp of delight, raise themselves in the nest, and a row of little beaks would open wide. A minute after, in would dart the mother swallow, without the least fear or hesitation, cling to the rafter by the side of the nest, and pop a fly into the mouth of the one nearest to her, uttering at the same time a peculiar and HABITS OF THE SWALLOW. 57 rather shrill note. As for the presence of two or three persons, she seemed not to mind it in the least. Her partner was by no means so brave. He would come with a little white moth in his beak, for these moths were plentiful in the meadows, and seemed a staple article of food ; but he would turn round and dart away, as if too shy to face the company ; nor did he, until after several attempts, venture to bring in the dainty morsel. At each unsuccessful attempt the little swallows raised themselves up and chirped, but only to be disappointed. If the pet dog of the family chanced to be near the spot, both swallows would go into a violent passion. They would fly over his head, and utter shrill cries, and peck at him, without, however, venturing to touch him ; all which attacks were lost upon the dog for some time ; but at last, as if wondering what the clamour was about, he would raise his head to look, and quietly walk away. We have not quite finished with the history of these little swallows. One morning, on entering the summer-house, one of the young brood was seen upon the ground, as though it had fallen or been pushed out of the nest. The mother bird was flying backwards and forwards as usual to feed her little ones, but without taking any notice. This want of natural affection was set down to the fact that the swallow rarely looks on the ground, and might not see it. But mark the difference between reason and mere instinct. The little bird was picked up, warmed and revived, and put again into the nest, in the hope that the mother would feed and cherish it. But no. For some cause or other she refused to do so. It might be a sickly bird, or she had more than enough to provide for. At any rate, every time it was put into the nest she flung it out again, until at last the poor little thing died. The swallow, like most of the birds, will sometimes take a fancy to build in a very odd place. A swallow's nest was once made in the half-open drawer of a table in a garret. The garret was never used, and the birds flew in and out through a broken pane in the window. And a still more curious place to choose, was the body and wing of an owl that had been nailed against a barn. The nest is in existence now, and has been kept as a curiosity by the family. The swallows were also known to build in the chimney of a steam-engine that was at work on a farm in Scotland. They reared their young season after season in this, as we should think, rather uncomfortable place, and took 58 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. no notice of the rattle of the engine, that was almost deafening. They were very timid, although no one ever molested them. If a bird of prey or a cat appeared, they sounded the note of alarm, and darted about in a frantic manner until ihey had driven the enemy away. THE MARTIN. A FEW days after the swallow has arrived, there comes the martin. They had really started together, and even crossed the Mediterranean in company ; but the wing of the martin is smaller and more feeble than that of the swallow, and she lagged somewhat behind. She knows her way to the nest she left last autumn under the eaves of the house. For she loves the dwellings of man, and is called the house martin on that very account. She is a first-rate builder, and can fix her nest against the smooth surface of the glass itself. Every one knows the shape of the nest. She lays a foundation of mud, and a layer of soft earth or clay is added day by day, and allowed to become dry and hard before the work is carried on. This is the outside wall, and is of a circular form. Both birds work hard at the nest, and they seem to have the power of moistening it with their saliva, which makes the substance hard and like glue. Inside, it is lined with hay and feathers, and made quite soft within. There is an opening in the side of the nest for the old birds to go in and out ; and after a time, the little heads of the brood are thrust out to receive the food that they bring. And you may see the mother bird hanging to the outside of the nest by her claws. As soon as one brood has flown, she begins to lay more eggs, and to rear another ; and even quite late in the autumn she is still busy with family cares. Indeed, she sometimes has not finished her duties in time, and then she must fly away to a warmer country, and the poor httle birds are left behind. This has been known to happen many times. One spring a pair of house martins came back to their old nest, and were seen to draw out the dead bodies of three little nestlings, that had not been ready to fly. THE MARTIN. 59 Another pair of birds came to a nest close by and ^ f ^o ^^ ^^ -m^ But the little ones were too large and heavy, and *ey cou d not w A all th r efforts, get them out. So they gave up the idea of usmg the nest for a home, and made it instead into a tomb, by sealing up the hole with cla>. ^.\xm;\;^'/ M , ' ) / .:'ME§/y^^-:N"if^:iWftli 1 ^^ \A Wmmm THE MARTIN. , f^miU' and are found almost every- birds fly about together, and their habits are^-^^'ke^ ^^^^^ For some days after the young -- -^s'h do not seem inclined to , and are fed by their parents. And sometimes > 00 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. leave the nest, and the old birds entice them, or even push them out. And a young bird may be seen clinging to the upper part of a window by its feet and tail, and the parents feed it in this position. It is amusing to watch the martin building her nest. She plants her tail against the wall, and then deposits the mud she has brought in her bill, like a skilful workman, allowing it to drop into the crevices of yesterday's work. Sometimes she stops to retouch the whole, and make it look smoother. Every time she alights on the nest, she makes a twittering sound ; and if the weather is hot, she will now and then take a splash in the pool to refresh herself She has to provide herself with food, and that takes up a little time ; and often she has to wait until the clay gets dry, before she puts on any more. In bad weather you see nothing of her, for she never- attempts to go on with her work. But when the rain is over, out she comes again, and proceeds with the building. The parent birds will feed their young ones as many as twenty-two times in half an hour. Sometimes they cling to the entrance of the nest, and some- times they go in. The young one whose turn it is to be fed often sits near the entrance to be ready, and if a morsel remains on its bill, the others snap it up. After a time the parent birds enter on a new series of duties. The young ones are fat and strong, and able to leave the nest, but they are rather afraid. They do not quite know the power of their own wings, and how safely they will be borne up by them. They open and shut them for a long time, as if wishing but fearing to launch on that wide open region in which their parents dart and skim. One little bird, bolder than the rest, summons all its courage, and springs into the air. The parents welcome it with delight, and all day they sport about among the tree-tops, taking short flights, and feeding and tending the young ones with the utmost affection. Once a very pretty sight was witnessed, and one that reminds us of a mother coaxing her child to walk by holding out a sweetmeat. The old bird came to the nest with a fly in his bill, and held it at a little distance, as much as to say, " If you mean to have it, you must fly." The little martins tried to come out, but did not succeed very cleverly, and nearly tumbled over. A minute after, the mother bird came back with a fly in her bill, and tried the same experiment. But the little ones were i THE KINGFISHER. 6i afraid, and would not come. She tried for some time to coax them, but at last grew angry, and seemed to scold them for being such cowards. She even took hold of one little bird with her claw, and tried to pull it out, but it clung to the nest with all its might, and she was obliged to give it up. THE KINGFISHER. Once upon a time, as the story-books say, a house was built in a field that had a steep bank in it, and in the bank a gravel-pit. When the house was finished, the field was laid out as a garden, and an arbour made in the bank, close by the gravel-pit. People who sat in the arbour on a summer's day looked over a winding river bordered with willow trees, and fringed with reeds and rushes, and covered with the yellow water- lilies, arrow-heads, and many other flowers. And they could see the little willow wren hopping about close by her slender nest upon the reeds, and the water-hen leading out her brood of young ones to enjoy themselves on the stream. There were very many feathered friends close at hand, but the best of all was to come. Very early in the spring a great round hole was seen in the bank close by the arbour, and from the state of the arbour itself it was evident that some birds had been at work ; but they were too shy ever to let themselves be seen, and the whole affair, both as to the hole and the birds, remained a mystery. But one day, much later in the spring, a number of delicate white egg- shells lay just below the hole ; and scarcely had the discovery been made, when a rushing noise was heard, and a large bird flew out of the hole, and darted down the river, the sun glancing on his plumage of green and gold. No other bird in England is dressed so gaily ; it could be but one — the kingfisher. We must stop a moment to describe him, as he is the hero of our little story. His body is not elegant in shape, for it is stout and thick, with a short 62 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. neck and a very long bill. His tail is short, and — if we may use the word — stumpy. His feet are small and feeble ; the first toe shorter than the second, and the third longer than the fourth. The bill is the weapon he uses to catch his prey, and we shall talk about it presently. It is, as you see, much longer than the head, and is straight and rather slender, with a pointed tip. But his plumage is the most beautiful part of him, and what causes him to be so much admired. The colours are very soft and blended, and yet there is a wonderful brilliance about them. The upper part of the head is a dull green, and each feather has a bar of light greenish blue near the end, that gives it a metallic look. The neck, the sides of the back, and the wings, are of the same green, tinged with purple ; but the middle of the back is of a lovely glossy blue, that shines and glistens in the sun ; while the tail is of a duller hue. There is a band of yellowish red from the nostril to the eye, an'd behind the eye is another band of the same colour. The throat is a yellowish white, and the breast and lower part of the body are of the same yellow red, but of a richer tint. Thus gaily clad, the kingfisher, in a country where the birds dress very soberly, shines as a conspicuous object. In his every-day life nothing can be more useful to him than his bill, since he can catch fish with it for the benefit of his family. He is a famous fisher, and this is why he had made his nest and come to live near the arbour by the pretty winding river. For on a clear still day it was easy to see, not only the reflection of the clouds as they went sailing over the sky, but to catch sight of a .shoal of fishes gliding merrily about just beneath the surface. And in the hot drowsy noontide, when all was still, there would be heard distinctly the plash of the fish as it leaped up to catch a fly, or to breathe the air. All these facts must have been well known to the kingfisher. The only difficulty was his extreme .shyness and his dislike to be seen. Yet he had chosen the most public place he could find. The arbour vfas a mere shed supported by wooden posts, and quite open on the side nearest to his hole. The hole was not more than a yard or two off. People sat and looked at it constantly. Not that anything could be seen, for the hole ran in THE KINGFISHER. 63 a slanting direction, and had a hollow place scooped out at the bottom, in which was the nest. But the loud chirping noise of the little kingfishers was heard very plainly indeed when the parents were away. THE KINGFISHER. The, kingfisher had several fishing places. Sometimes he perched on the branch of a willow that overhung the stream, where he would sit for many minutes, lazily resting himself. He grasped the stem with his small red feet, his glossy back shining in the sun, and his ruby breast reflected in the water below. His long bill was pointed downwards, and his eye intent on watching the tiny fish that sported beneath. Presently a fish came into the right position, and he opened his wings a little way, and darted downwards with the rapidity of lightning, and, as it seemed, headlong into the water. There was a splash, and in another second he appeared with a fish in his mouth, struggling and twisting itself about. He struck it against the bough and killed it, then, tossing up his head, swallowed it, and was again on the watch as intently as ever. The poor kingfisher suffers very much in cold weather, but even in the depth of the winter he is now and then seen plying his trade on the river. One sharp frost the river was frozen except just in the middle, and here a kingfisher was seen hovering over the open spot, as if looking for fish. Presently he dived and brought one up in his bill. A gentleman who was passing fired his gun, but, we are happy to say, without effect. The bird darted away with the swiftness of an arrow, and THE HOOPOE. There is a family of birds called bee-eaters, that feed upon bees as the swallow does upon flies. They do not live in England, but pay summer visits to the warm countries in the south of Europe. They wear a rich costume of yellow and orange, and have a long beak a little like the kingfisher's, and a body about the size of a swallow. And they lead the life of the swallow, darting about in flocks on the mountain sides, where bees hum over the flowers of the thyme, and they catch them by hundreds. They have a curious note, that can be heard a long way off, and might be mistaken for a man whistling. The hoopoe, with its beautiful crest, is a distant relation of the bee- eater. He can raise his crest or put it down, just as he pleases ; and he wears a suit of the gayest colours. He has three toes in front and one behind, and the one behind is long and has a straight claw. THE HOOPOE. t-S His native home is in Africa and in Asia, and he is related not only to the bee-eater, but to the humming-bird and the sun-bird. Very rarely, indeed, does he pay us a visit in England, but such an event now and then happens. THE HOOPOE. The hoopoe, when he is kindly treated, behaves extremely well in captivity, and even attaches himself to those about him. We can tell you a little story about it. Two young birds were taken out of a hoopoe's nest, and brought up in the house. They grew very fond of their owner, and used to follow him about. When they heard him coming they used to utter a joyful kind of chirp, and even fly up and settle on him. He often brought them a pan of milk, and would let them feast upon the cream, which they seemed to like very much. And then they would perch on his shoulder, and make a great fuss with him. But if he grew tired, he had only to say a word, and they flew away. The room they were kept in had a stove in it, and they used to run behind the stove. But what was very funny, they always looked at him, to see what sort of humour he was in, before they ventured on their play. They were very fond of beetles, and had a curious way of eating them. They first killed them, and then beat them with their beaks into a long-shaped ball. This they tossed up into the air, and caught again with their beaks. One day their owner took them into a field that they might catch a few insects for themselves. They enjoyed this kind of sport very much indeed, but their pleasure was a little spoilt by their timidity. They seemed haunted by the dread lest some bird of prey should be hovering near ; and if so much as a pigeon came in sight they were seized with a panic. They squatted down to the ground in a very curious attitude ; their wings were stretched out and their heads leaned back with the beak pointing upwards. They looked more like pieces of old rag that had been thrown on the ground than anything else. The moment the pigeon was gone, up they jumped, and uttered cries of delight. In his native state the hoopoe is fond of hunting about for insects on some piece of moist ground. He makes his nest in the hole of some decayed tree. It is made of dry grass, lined with wool or feathers, and has a very unpleasant smell, from the remains of insects that lie about in it. If the birds cannot find a hollow tree that will suit their purpose, they choose a crevice in the rock or in some old building. The mother bird lays four or five eggs, of a greyish white, spotted with grey or brown. THE HUMMING-BIRD. ^7 THE HUMMING-BIRD. The ■humming-bird may be called the fly-catcher of the tropics, for he is quite as expert as the swallow. THE GIANT HUMMING-BIRD. But his habits and his mode of proceeding are rather different. In the fii'st place, he is, as you know, the smallest of all the birds, and in some cases E 2 68 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. no larger than a humble bee. But his tiny body is adorned with rainbow colours, and the feathers on his throat have a look like velvet, and change colour every moment in a wonderful and beautiful manner. There is one great humming-bird that is a giant among his fellows, and the least attractive of any of them. You see him in the picture. He is as large as a sparrow, and is dressed in a rather sober costume of brownish green, the under part of the body tinted with red. The tail is golden green; and the feathers on the throat are velvety, but lack brightness of colour. The life of the humming-bird is spent among the brightest scenes of nature. He flashes from flower to flower with the rapidity of lightning, and hovers over first one and then another. His food consists of the tiny insects that live amid the petals, and Nature has provided him with a long and slender bill on purpose to pick them out. Sometimes the bill is straight, and sometimes it is curved. In some species it curves upwards, and the bird is called the avocet humming-bird ; in others it is bent like a sickle. The tongue is slender, and can be put out to a great length. It is made up of two parts, like round tubes, that are laid side by side for nearly their whole length, and then are separate. It is very sticky, and when it is thrust into the flower the insects stick to it and cannot get away. And the edge of the tongue is fringed with tiny bristles, that still further help to entrap them. The power of wing in the humming-bird is very great indeed. The wings themselves are very long, and the muscles that move them are exceedingly strong. Small as the humming-bird is, he can dart away or continue to fly for a longer time than you would believe. And he can poise himself in the air as the insects do, and keep up a kind of quick vibration with his wings. His movements are so quick that his lovely wings can hardly be perceived unless the sun flashes upon them. In the tropical garden, full as it is of all kinds of splendid flowers, he is seen in perfection, and there are crowds of brilliant humming-birds darting about in gold and purple and crimson. They are extremely passionate, and if the flower disappoints them in the quantity of insects or nectar it contains, they will tear it to pieces. And they are very brave, and will fight desperately in defence of their nest and their young ones. Their nest is the most exquisite little fabric you can imagine. It is so small and fairy-like that it is often hung to a leaf, or to the end of a twig. THE HUMMING-BIRD. 69 Often It is made of thistle-down, or of lichens, with cotton and wool inside. Two tiny white eggs are laid in it, which by-and-by become little THK SICKLE-BILLED HUMMING-BIRD. humming-birds. At first they are without any feathers, and are more like bluebottle flies than anything else. There is a huge spider in that part of the world as big or bigger than the humming-bird himself. 7° STOHIES ABOUT BIRDS. He makes a great strong net in which the brilliant little creature is often caught. And what is almost worse, he comes with his hideous long legs THE TOPAZ-THROATED HUMMING-BIRD. running up the tree, and gets into the nest. Then he kills both the parents and the young ones. THE HUMMING-BIRD FAMILY. 7i The humming-bird family is a very large one, and contains all manner of brilliant little creatures, with names such as the topaz, and the amethyst, and the ruby-throated humming-bird. And sometimes the tiny gem is adorned with an elegant ruff on its neck, that it can set up and down at pleasure, and then it is called a " coquette." There are some humming-birds that live in the forest, and keep in the shadow of the trees. This is very different from the usual habit of the family, as they are creatures of the sun and cannot live without it. A little humming-bird was once put into a shady room, where the sun did not shine. It became cold and benumbed, and dropped down as if it were dead. The people of the house had to carry it out of doors, and lay it in the full glare of the sun. Then it soon began to revive, and became as lively as ever. But the humming-bird of the forest does not seem to care about the sun. It searches for insects among the leaves of the trees, and threads its way along from branch to branch. This curious humming-bird not only lives in the shade, but does not venture out until evening. It has almost the habits of the owl. People cannot rear the humming-birds in England, the climate is much too cold. A young man once saw a humming-bird sitting on her nest, and he contrived to cut off the branch, and carry away bird and nest together. The ship was just ready to sail for England, and he took it with him on board. The mother bird soon hatched her eggs, and grew very tame, and would eat out of his hand. But she died before the ship reached England. He contrived to rear the two young birds, and they lived some little time after they reached this country. A lady used to feed them out of her mouth, but in spite of every care the poor little things fell victims to the climate. THE SUN-BIRD. The sun-bird is, as you see, a near relative of the humming-bird, and wears the same gorgeous attire. He has been called the humming-bird of Africa, 72 STOJilES ABOUT BIRDS. because that part of the world is his home, and there a vast number of sun- birds are found. The family name of Nectarimda; has been given because the bird sips the nectar of the flowers, and was once supposed to live entirely on honey. But it is now well known that the sun-bird feeds very much on insects, and only gives zest to his banquets by a sip of the juices of the flowers. The name of sun-bird is very appropriate, since the sunlight has a remarkable effect on his plumage, and makes it look like gold and precious stones. This effect is really produced by the bird, as he moves his muscles and changes the position of his feathers, throwing them every moment into a different light. The upper part of the head and throat are blue, changing into violet ; then, at the back of the neck, there is a patch of red ; and the wings are purple and green, and the breast is yellow. The tail is of scarlet, and the feathers reach some distance. THE COMMON TREE-CREEPER. If on the occasion of some summer holiday you go into the woods, and look well about you, you are almost sure to see the little tree-creeper. The best way is to sit down on the stump of some fallen tree, and quietly to watch. By-and-by you will see a very small brown bird, the smallest we have in England, except, perhaps, the dear little wren. He has a short neck, and a long, rather curved bill, and a stiff little tail. His foot has three toes in front, and one long one behind, and are all armed with rather long claws. The joints roll about loosely, in the same way as those of the swallow. But as for his daily habits, they are more like those of the woodpecker. He and his family are very useful in clearing trees of insects that the swallow cannot get at. They lie snugly hidden under the bark or in cracks, but the bill of the little creeper is sure to find them ; and though his tongue is not quite like that of the woodpecker, yet he thrusts it SUN-HIRDS. 74 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. out in the same manner. Its tip is hard and sharp, and can run through the insect like a spear. In the picture you see him at his daily work in the woods. He is chnging with his sharp little claws to the bark of the tree. He has mounted up by a number of short jerks, and every time he jerked he uttered a shrill small cry. THE COMMON TKEli-CREKPER. You would be amused if you sat and watched how he climbs and winds about. Now he goes right round the trunk, and you lose sight of him. But not for long ; in a few minutes he comes back. He crouches close to the tree, and presses his tail against it. You see him pick something out of a crack with his tongue, and give another little jerk forward. He is never at rest for a moment. THE NIGHTINGALE. 75 His plan is to begin near the root of the tree, and direct his course upward. And we must tell you that he is far more nimble than the woodpecker, and runs along the lower side of the branches with the utmost ease. He is very cunning; and if he should chance to see you, he will try to keep on the opposite side of the tree, so that you can only catch now and then a glimpse of him. All this climbing and threading seems mere play to him. When he has wound along the branches till he reaches the top of the tree, and can go no farther, he flies down like an arrow, and alights at the root of another tree. Then he begins again his upward course, and climbs and threads with as much zeal as ever. His note is a little low "cheep, cheep," that he utters very often. Early in spring the tree-creeper builds his nest. He chooses some hole in a tree where a branch has been broken off, or where the woodpecker has made the hole before him, or even in a hole in the wall. The nest is made of the usual materials — moss, grass, roots, and feathers. These are put into the hole in great quantities, so as to make a firm founda- tion. The mother bird lays six or eight eggs, of an ash colour, marked with dark red spots. She sits very closely, and will hardly move even wlien any one comes near her. Her partner is very attentive, and feeds her constantly during this anxious period. THE NIGHTINGALE. In the middle of April, in certain favoured spots in our island, there is heard, both day and night, the voice of the nightingale. He is the finest singer — the most perfect musician — we have in our woods and groves. Who does not love to catch his thrilling notes ! Who does not stop and listen with delight ! The nest of the nightingale is slightly made — so slightly that it is not easy to take it away. It would fall to pieces unless a string were tied round it. And it is placed in a lowly position on the ground, at the bottom of a hedge or even in some small hollow place. When the young nightingales are hatched, the parent birds feed them with green caterpillars and other insects. All the time they are being hatched the beautiful songs are heard, but when the little birds have to be fed the melody ceases. Then nothing is heard from the once brilliant performer but a low croak, and a snapping noise if he is alarmed. He is busy helping his partner attend to the little ones. And in August, quite in the midst of the summer, he leaves us altogether. We have almost forgotten his appearance, but this is not at all striking. He is a plain brown bird, with rather a rich tint, and the under surface of his body is a dull white. His voice is all we care for. As a rule, the nightingales are not at all plentiful, except in certain places. About London they sing in a delightful manner, and several of our southern counties are highly favoured by their presence. But the birds seem to dislike the northern part of the country, and are rarely seen there. THE ROBIN. Who does not love the robin .' He is everybody's friend ; and he of all the birds never leaves us. Ever welcome, he visits our window in the bleak winter's morning to receive the crumbs allotted to him, and to repay us with his brisk little song. In the summer, amid the crowd of feathered friends, he seemed to pass from our notice. And he had his own affairs to look after — to build the nest, and rear the young. Now this busy, anxious season is over, and he bethinks him- self of his old friends, and draws near the gardens, where perchance a stray grub may remain or be hidden under the grass, and where the friendly hand will give him crumbs. His appearance and his attitude are known to every one. He stands, his head a little raised, his wings drooping, his mild, pleasant eye beaming with intelligence. Sometimes he spies a worm wriggling in the grass, and he gives a hop towards it, and pecks it, and devours as much as he can. Then he resumes his former position. Now and then he sings his few sweet notes from a wall or a decaying stump. His flight is rapid, but consists of short quick starts from one place to another. Now he is on the bush, now on the fence. THE NIGHTINGALE. 78 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. If you are digging in your garden, he drops down silently close beside you, so that you can almost touch him ; but if you look at him, he hops on to the railing, or to some safe place. The next moment he is down again, looking for worms. Though sociable with us, he is very quarrelsome with his neighbours, and has a great dislike to the sparrow, and will peck at and fight fiercely with him. And he has many a fray with his brother robins. Two of them were once seen contending with such violence, that they rolled together on the garden walk. Indeed, one would have killed the other if they had not been parted. Nor is the robin on such friendly terms with man at all seasons. It is hunger that makes him so tame as to venture almost within our doors. Whether he knows it or not, he is in most cases perfectly safe. Ever since the time of the " babes in the wood," no one would think of hurting a robin. The nest of the robin is placed under a hedge or bush, and is rarely found in a tree. It is large, and rather loosely made of grass and moss and decayed leaves. And five eggs are laid in it, of a reddish white, faintly marked with purple. Sometimes the birds choose a very odd place for the nest, and are very resolved to carry their point. A pair of robins once began to build in a tall myrtle plant that stood in the hall of a gentleman's house. The nest was objected to for many reasons, and pulled down. The birds then began to build in a still more curious place. They chose the cornice in the drawing-room, and began to carry moss and leaves there. Of course, such a proceeding was stopped at once, and the nest removed. The robins, nothing daunted, now began to build a third time, in a new shoe that was placed on a shelf in the dressing-room. They were allowed to go on with the work until the nest was finished. Then, as the shoe was wanted to be worn with its fellow, the nest was taken carefully out, and placed in an old shoe instead. The robins did not seem to mind the change in the least. They filled up the under part of the shoe with oak leaves, and very soon the eggs were laid and hatched. The windows of the room were kept open a little, so that the parent birds could go backwards and forwards as much as they chose. Nothing could exceed their tameness. They made themselves perfectly at home ; and when the gentleman who used the dressing- THE ROBIN. 159 SapsucKer Woods Ros. Cornell UnWers.V^ imaca. New Vork 79 room was shaving in the morning, the two birds would settle on the top of the glass with worms in their mouths, and look at him with the utmost freedom. A robin that lived in a garden became so tame that he picked worms ROBIN RED-BREAST. from the hand of the gardener, and would sit on his knee at dinner-time to have a share of the crumbs. The gentleman who owned the garden was very fond of the robin ; and when winter came, he put him into an empty room, that he might have shelter as well as food. And lest the bird should be lonely, he found a partner for him, to cheer his solitude. So STORIES ABOUT J3IRDS. Early in the spring the robins were let out to fly. But they had been very busy meanwhile, and had built a pretty little nest, out of what few materials they could find. A few withered stalks of horehound hung from the ceiling, to be used as a medicine if any of the family took cold. The birds had pulled it down, and used it for the outside of the nest. The inside was lined with the down of another plant, kept there to feed a tame bullfinch. And the result of all was a very tolerable little nest. THE REDSTART. THE REDSTART. There is a small class of birds that are related to the robin and the night- ingale. They are known by the name of redstarts, and are rarely met with in England. One species only is at all common among us, and is called white-pointed, because of the white mark over the eye of the bird. He is handsomely dressed, in grey, black, and orange. The throat and back part of the head is black, and the breast and tail light reddish orange. The redstart has several relations that live on the continent, and HABITS OF THE REDSTART. «i rarely, if ever, come to England. He himself is very often seen, and his habits watched by the naturalist. He does not spend the winter in England, but comes about the end of April. He is very lively in his disposition, though he is small ; and is well known by the white patch over his eye, and the manner in which he jerks his tail up and down at all times, either when perched or when on the ground. He catches insects on the wing. The nest is placed in a hole in the wall, or in a hollow tree, or even in the crevice of a rock. It is made of roots and moss, and is well lined with hair and feathers ; and there are six or seven eggs, of a light greenish blue. The young redstart does not attain the beautiful plumage of his parent until he has left England on his autumn tour. The hen birds have no white on the forehead, and wear a more sober costume. When the redstart arrives here in the spring, he makes his appearance in the gardens, or near some old wall. He is not often seen, for he is very shy, and keeps close to his home. When the nest is built, and his partner sitting on the eggs, he will perch on a branch close by, and sing his little song, which is very short, and has not much music in it. He sings almost all the day, from the very early morning ; but the melody is rarely noticed by any one except his partner. He does not run or walk, but makes his way by a number of flying leaps. His food is obtained by catching insects on the wing, and sometimes he alights to pick up some worm or grub he has espied. A pair of redstarts took up their abode in a hole in the gable end of a cottage, on the public road. A weaver lived in the cottage, and from five in the morning until ten at night those noisy looms were working away. Yet the birds never seemed to be annoyed, and reared their young in safety. This is rather curious, for they are very shy birds. When the redstart is caught, and put in a cage, which sometimes happens, he will sing both night and day, and can be made to imitate the notes of other birds. There was one of the family that used to sing the " Copenhagen Waltz." But the birds never live long in a state of captivity. They cannot have the food most suitable for them, such as the eggs of ants and different kinds of insects ; and are subject to fits and many kinds of diseases. About the end of September the redstarts go away to a warmer climate. They are very abundant on the shores of the Mediterranean ; and in France they are caught in great numbers, not as cage birds, but to be eaten. Small as the bird is, his flesh is thought to be a luxury. F ' i *. ■ 82 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. THE WHITE-THROAT. A PAIR of white-throats built their nest in a shrubbery, and the kind owner of the place watched over them with the utmost care. The task had been WHITE-THROATS. completed, and the mother bird was sitting on her eggs, when, one morning, as the gentleman was walking at some distance from the nest, he saw a broken egg-shell lying on the ground. THE WHITE-THROAT. 83 " Ah ! " thought he. " Some accident has happened to the white-throat. A magpie or a weasel has run away with her eggs." He went hastily to the nest to look, when, to his joy, it was full of young birds all newly hatched. And he found out that the mother had taken the broken shell, and dropped it far away from her home, lest it should disclose the beloved spot to some passer-by. The white-throat does not live in England in the winter. It comes with the swallows, and loves the green lanes and hawthorn bushes of the deep country. As soon as it comes it begins to warble a few sweet notes now and then, and to flit about from bush to bush in a restless way. Sometimes it flutters in the air, singing all the time, and then drops down again. As it sings, it swells out its throat, and puts up the feathers on its head. And though it is a small, slender bird, yet this habit makes it look rather stout. Its plumage is very soft, and of a brown kind of red ; and the throat is pure white, from whence it has its name. When it comes in the spring, it has just put on its summer suit ; but by the end of the season the colours fade, and the tail feathers get very ragged. The white-throat has several relations. One is called the garden warbler, and is not quite so familiar. Its song is sweet and mellow, and it warbles as it threads its way round the trunks of trees in the copse, or through the brakes and bushes. It has several notes, and some of them remind one of the blackbird, only that they are sung more hurriedly. It lives in thick hedges, and makes a nest like that of its relative, only it puts a little moss outside. It has also the same love of fruit, and comes to the gardens when the strawberries and the currants are ripe. But though it cannot resist any kind of fruit, it is still a welcome visitor ; for it is the only one of the family that will feed on the troublesome caterpillar that lives on the cabbage, and ■does so much mischief It is but just to set one fact against the other. It has been seen darting into the air to catch insects, after the fashion of the fly-catchers. It sometimes takes its stand on some post, or stake that has been put to a dahlia plant, and watches for its prey. When an insect ■comes by, it darts with its bill upwards, catches the fly in a second, and goes back to its post. F 3 84 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. LONG-TAILED TITS. THE LONG-TAILED TIT. Very often, in a summer ramble, or when walking in the garden, a peculiar scraping note is heard from among the trees. There are two sounds, one like THE LONG-TAILED TIT. 8S the word "churr! churr!" and then a shrill note like " twit ! twit!" You may know at once that the sound comes from the long-tailed tit, the head of the tit tribe, and the handsome bird you see in the picture. There are many of the tit family on every hand. They are birds of a small size, and do not exceed a sparrow in bulk. They have a short straight bill, with rather a sharp point, and they use it to feed on various kinds of seeds, and even to split open a cone. But their favourite food is insects, and they destroy millions that are out of the way of the swallow. They do not refuse scraps of meat or any morsels thrown out from the kitchen door ; and on a winter's day, when the little birds come round our houses to ask our bounty, sorne of the tit family are very likely to be present. They give little rapid flights, and utter shrill cries when picking up their food. Small as they are, they have a great deal of courage, and will attack birds much larger than themselves. The long-tailed tit is known from the rest of his tribe by the long hand- some tail that Nature has given him. His plumage is very soft and thick. His head, throat, and breast are white, and there is a broad black band over the eye. His thick tufted plumage makes him look as if he were muffled up to the chin, and that is why some people call him the " mufflin." In winter the long-tailed tits fly about in troops, and follow each other in a file, their 16ng tails streaming behind them. They are very social birds, so much so that, in the season when the mother birds are sitting on their eggs, their partners will feed together in the most friendly manner. The long-tailed tit is famous for making one of the most beautiful nests that is known. The other tits place their nests in a hole, but the nest of which I am speaking is fastened to the twigs or branches of a bush not many yards above the ground. THE WAGTAIL. There is not a more lively bird anywhere than our friend the wagtail. It is true he does not entertain us with a delightful song, like some of our feathered friends, but he amuses us none the less. 1 86 STOHIES ABOUT BIRDS. He is very tame and sociable, and rather likes to be in our company. And he is handsome to look at in his glossy plumage of grey, black, and WAGTAILS. white, all blended together ; and he has a brisk way of walking, or rather skimming about with very light footsteps, as if he trod on air. THE WAGTAIL. 87 He IS never so happy as when he can get to the side of a brook or stream. He will wade about in a shallow place, looking for insects and worms, and holdmg up his handsome tail to keep it from the wet. Sometimes THE WHITE WAGTAIL. he perches on a stone, and stands jerking and twittering, or he ventures quite into the water as far as it will be safe, to see what he can find. His footsteps are so light they leave no impression on the mud, and he runs over it without sinking in. He and his family are great friends to the cattle when they stand 88 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. grazing in the fields. On hot sultry days the flies are very troublesome, and the cow has to keep switching her tail to drive them off. But presently there is sure to come a little party of wagtails in search of these very flies. They run, and jerk, and dart, and spring, and at every movement there is a gnat or a fly the less. The nest is sometimes placed in a snug place among the grass, or on a heap of stones, or even in a hole in an old wall. It is made of leaves and stems of grass, mixed with moss, and lined with wool and hair. It is rather large and rough looking, and all kinds of hair are used to line it. The mother bird lays five or six eggs on this warm bed : they are of a greyish white colour, and spotted with grey and brown. When the little wag- tails are hatched, their parents rear them with the utmost care, and even when they have left the nest will help them to get their own living. If the mother bird finds an insect larger than usual, she will not eat it herself, but give it to her young one. We must tell you that the cuckoo sometimes drops her &^^ into the wagtail's nest. Then the mother wagtail hatches it as if it had been her own. But the young cuckoo grows so very large, that its foster mother has to settle on its back in order to feed it properly. Then the cuckoo turns its beak round for the food, as if it understood the whole process. The wagtail in the picture is called the mountain wagtail, and lives in the mountains of Europe. It is a deep grey colour on the back, and the under parts are yellow. The throat is black, and there is a white line between it and the back. The mountain wagtails are met with in all mountainous countries. In the winter they migrate to the tropics, like their relations the friendly little wagtails we have been speaking about. They are very sociable, and run about near the houses in the same quick and nimble manner as with us, and have the same twittering note. THE IVREA. 89 THE WREN. The appearance of the wren is very peculiar. The little body is short and full, the bill very slender, and the tail is generally erect. It jerks its whole body as it hops about, uttering a note that sounds a little like "chit ! chit !" THE WREN. It is always cheerful, and never in the most gloomy weather seems out of spirits. When the sparrows and the finches sit dolefully on the twigs, with their plumage wet and- ruffled, the wren is as compact and as neat as ever, and hops about as if the weather made but little difference to it. When the great drops of rain are falling in torrents, its bright eye will peep 90 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. from a hole, or its knowing little head pop from behind a wall, as merrily as possible. The nest is such a wonderful piece of workmanship, that people have never been weary of praising it. The clever little bird takes the utmost pains, in its construction. All kinds of plants enter into its composition. Here are mosses to make the walls, and it is arched over with fern leaves, and stems of grass, and twigs of trees, all twisted and matted to- gether in the most beautiful manner. The nest is in the shape of a ball, and has an opening in the form of a low arch, just large enough to admit the wren, and the inside is lined with soft feathers to make a bed for the young ones. Sometimes the nest is placed in a hole in the wall or of a tree, or amongst the thick boughs of the honeysuckle or clematis. Indeed, it is put in all kinds of places. The mother bird is the real architect, and her mate sits by and sings. He does not give her much help, thinking, perhaps, that his music is enough. The song is rich and mellow, and can always be listened to with pleasure. While he sings his partner works. She fetches and carries the moss and the leaves, and is often seen dragging a bundle almost as large as herself. If any one looks at her, she disappears into some nook or corner ; but we may be sure her bright eye is peering from the retreat, and eagerly watching the movements of the intruder. The instant he is gone, out she comes with her usual bob and jerk, and contrives to drag the bundle onwards to the nest with unabated zeal. The only tools she ever uses are her beak and claws, and she gives the nest its shape by turning her body round and round, and pressing against the sides with her breast and wings. When it is finished, the texture is so close that not a drop of rain can enter, and in this snug little dwelling the mother wren lays a great number of eggs. Very soon begins the task of feeding the young birds, a task which the little wren carries on with the same untiring energy. The little mouths are always open, and it is no easy matter to fill them. All day long the careful mother goes backwards and forwards, bringing flies and insects, and whatever food she can find, to satisfy the craving of her brood. She has been seen to go to and fro as many as two hundred and seventy-eight times in a day ! The little birds, with such good feeding, grow very fast, and at length the happy moment comes when they may leave the nest. HABITS OF THE WREN. 91 By this time they are getting very tired of it, pretty and snug as it is,, and their little wings are impatient to flutter in a large space. They want to. hop and jerk like their parents, and show the same lively disposition, though their plumage is at present rather different. At first they run about on the ground, and hop among the bushes, attended by their parents, who do not consider their education quite complete. If any person or animal approaches, the mother wren becomes very much alarmed, and utters a loud "chit! chit!" The little birds hide themselves in any hole or corner that is near, and the whole family disappears as if by magic. In spite of all the pains and labour taken by the wren to build her nest, the beautiful little fabric is often unused. So many of these deserted nests- have been found, that the matter has been inquired into by the naturalist, and, a rather curious fact has come to light. It is thought by some persons, that while the mother wren is sitting on her eggs, her partner occupies himself with making a number of nests, one after the other. But he does not line them in the same delicate way, nor does he conceal them with the same dexterity. They are often found by the country people, and go by the familiar name of "cock nests." However, one thing is pretty certain, that during the severe weather the wrens and their little ones take refuge in these spare houses, and lie there snug and warm. THE GOLDEN-CRESTED WREN. Perhaps few of the perching birds construct a more beautiful nest than the little golden-crested wren. He is a near relative of the common wren in her plain suit of brown, but he wears a much gayer costume. The crest on his head is bright yellow, tipped with orange, and there is a great deal of yellow about his plumage. Altogether, he is rather a showy little fellow. He loves the deep woods, especially if he can find a few fir-trees. Here he and his partner hke to make the wonderful little dwelling in which they 92 STO-RIES ABOUT BIRDS. intend to rear their young ones ; and here they can run about on the branches and find plenty of insects. The nest is placed under the branch of the fir-tree, and hangs to it by some little cords, that are in reality the twigs of the fir woven with the moss of the nest. GOLDEN-CRESTED WRENS. The dark heavy branch of the fir is a capital screen for this beautiful hangmg nest, that is lined with feathers, and has a hole in the side for the birds to go in and out. The mother bird lays from six to ten eggs, of a pale reddish white. She IS a very careful mother, and feeds her young ones every two minutes. The little golden-crested wren abounds in England, and does not seem to THE GOLD EN- CRESTED WREN. 93 mind the cold of the winter. He is all life and activity, and may be seen hopping and clinging among the branches, and making himself quite happy and contented, let the weather be what it may. He has a sweet voice, but THE GOLDEN ORIOLE. not very strong, and it cannot be heard at any distance. And he is very tyrannical in his disposition ; and, small as he is, often gets the mastery over the other birds. 94 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. THE GOLDEN ORIOLE. In the early days of spring, when the leaves are budding forth, many of our feathered friends pay us a visit from other countries. The golden oriole, a beautiful relative of the thrush, comes now and then to spend a little time with us. His visits are few and far between, and he goes away in the autumn to a warmer climate. In this country he is very rare, and often several years pass without a glimpse of him. But in the sunny land of Italy the orioles abound, and there their domestic life can be better studied. The oriole is extremely handsome. His beak is an orange brown, and there is a dark-coloured streak from the base of the beak to the eye. His head and neck and body are a bright gamboge yellow, and his wings are black. The mother bird has not the streak under the eye, and is much more plainly dressed. The oriole has some foreign relations that make long purse-shaped nests ; but he and his mate do not follow their example. The beautiful little nest in the picture is, as you see, flat and saucer-shaped, and is fixed very safely in the fork of a branch. It is made of wool and the stalks of grasses, woven together in a most wonderful manner ; and four or five smooth white eggs, spotted with brown, are laid in it. The birds choose a very retired spot for the nest. • They fix upon some lonely grove, and make it under the overhanging leaves and branches. They are very brave in defending their young, and would do battle with almost anybody. THE MOCKING-BIRD. It is not in England that you must expect to hear the mocking-bird. It is true that in our woods and thickets one bird will mimic the note of another, but this is in a very inferior way compared to that prince of mimics, the mocking-bird. THE MOCKING-BIRD. 95 He is about the size of a thrush, and lives in the warm parts of North America, where the orange-tree is seen in the gardens and the groves, and the fields and the forests are adorned with millions of flowers. Here the magical song of the mocking-bird is heard to perfection. He is the sweetest and the THE MOCKING-BIRD. most wonderful of the forest musicians, and his clear strong voice seems to fill the whole air with a flood of harmony. The mellowness of his song, and the variety and brilliance of its per- formance, can hardly be described. He begins to sing early in the season, when he has chosen his partner. He flies lightly round her, his tail expanded and his wings raised, dancing, as it were, with delight. Then he alights on a tree, and seems to pour out all his affection in his song. And more than this, as if his own powers of expression were too few, he begins to imitate the songs of all his neighbours in the grove. In the clear summer night, when the moon shines on the rustling tops of the forest trees, he will sing like the nightingale, and you might take him for one. But his power of imitation is not always used in such a harmless way. He likes to play certain tricks that are rather mischievous. He will amuse himself by uttering a loud scream like a bird of prey. His feathered neigh- bours hear it, and are struck with terror : they think the hawk is close at hand, and hide themselves under the boughs. He will keep them in this state of panic just as long as he pleases. When in this sportive humour, he will torment the hunter who has come out with his gun to shoot some birds. The mocking-bird sees him from where he is perched on some bough or spray. He begins directly to imitate the notes of most of the birds. The notes are so clear and distinct that the sportsman thinks the songsters are close at hand, and he spends a great deal of time in looking for them. But in reality the birds are a long way off, quite out of reach of the gun. In the midst of all these frolics and musical performances, the serious business of life has to be thought of, and the nest has to be built. Then the mocking-bird and his partner set to work and choose the most suitable place for it. When the choice has been made, the two birds pick up dried twigs, leaves, and grass, and begin to arrange them in the forked branch of a tree. When the nest is finished, five eggs are soon laid in it, and while the mother bird sits upon them he perches close by and sings his sweetest songs. At the same time he keeps a sharp look out for insects. Now and then he drops from the branch, picks up one in his bill, and carries it to his mate. He is by nature a very brave bird, but at this time nothing can come near the nest without being attacked. Even his natural enemy, the cat, is driven away if she ventures to approach ; and as for his battles with the snake, nothing can exceed them in fierceness. The young birds are hatched in about a fortnight, and there are as many as three broods in the course of the summer. There are not so many insects when the last brood comes out, and they are rather stunted compared to the THE MOCKING-BIRD AS A MIMIC. 97 others. The mocking-bird remains all the year round in some of the warmer states ; but in the colder parts he is a summer visitor, and then goes away as the swallows do. Like the nightingale, he is often caught in a trap, and sold for the sake of his voice. But even when a captive, he is just as lively and as mischievous. He imitates all the sounds in the house, and plays a trick upon everybody. He whistles like the master, and the dog jumps up and thinks it is wanted. Then he makes a pitiful squeak, and the hen clucking outside in the farmyard is in a fright about her chickens, and fancies that one of them is hurt. Then he sings like the canary, or the thrush, or the nightingale, and affords the utmost delight to his listeners. As he sings he appears to be in a kind of ecstasy, and flutters round the cage as if he were dancing to his own music. The dress worn by the mocking-bird is not very gay, and yet he is on the whole rather handsome. The upper part of the head, neck, and back are of a dark ash colour, and the wings and tail nearly black, the upper feathers tipped with white, in the manner you see in the picture ; the lower part of the body is a brownish white, and the legs and feet black and very strong. The food of the bird consists of berries of the red cedar and the myrtle and the holly, and many others that are found in abundance in the thickets and swamps. And he is very expert in catching winged insects, that abound in the warmer districts even in the winter. He has a graceful way of moving about on the ground, and keeps opening his wings and closing them as the butterfly does when she is basking in the sun. His flight is performed by short jerks of the body and wings, and each time the tail is twitched strongly. When he is travelling he goes from tree to tree, or at most across a field, and never rises higher than the top of the forest. His common note is rather a mournful one, and he utters it as he flies. His courage is so great that not even the bird of prey likes to attack him. But there is one kind of hawk that flies very low and very swiftly, and sometimes carries him off with a sudden swoop. But if the hawk misses its aim, the mocking-bird turns upon it with great fury, and calls all his friends to his help. The hawk darts away so fast that none of them can overtake him ; but the warning note has been uttered, and the birds are on their guard. The enemy is very likely to go without his prey for that day at least THE SONG THRUSH. The family of our well-known songster is a very large one indeed, and includes nearly a hundred and twenty species. But our friend in the picture, who is pouring forth his melodious song, is called inusica on account of his vocal powers. Who has not heard him some mild day in the early spring, or rather towards the close of the winter .■' He is seated on the top of a tree that is as yet bare and leafless. The country has no glad look at present ; the fields are bare and barren, but the very sound of those clear delicious notes inspire us with joy. " The thrushes," we say, " are beginning to sing." He is a plain bird, with brown spots on his breast. But if he wore all the colours of the rainbow, he would not be any dearer to us on that account. It is his voice we prize, and we do not look at his dress. His song is very full, and has many variations. Some persons compare it to that of the nightingale ; and, indeed, he may rank next to that prince of song. Early in the morning and late in the evening he is heard, perched often on the same twig. His domestic habits can easily be studied, for his family abound on all sides of us. His nest is built very early, for he and his partner rear several families of young thrushes in the course of the season. It is rather a rough- looking fabric outside, but within it is very nicely finished, and looks like a smooth hard cup, quite water-tight. As a rule, the nest is placed in a bush or a hedge. In Italy the thrush feeds delicately on grapes, for he is a berry-loving bird. But in England, where we have no vineyards, his principal food is of an animal character. He devours slugs and earthworms, and you may see dozens of thrushes on the lawn after rain, walking about and picking up the worms. His bill is as long as his head, and is very useful to him in procuring his food. He has a great fancy for snails, and he breaks the shells to get them out; and he has been seen to place the snail between two pebbles that he used for the purpose, and hammer with his beak until the shell was broken. Towards the autumn a great many thrushes come from the north of Europe to winter in England. Great numbers of these birds are often met with THE SONG THRUSH. 99 at that time, and they fly in company with the redwings and the fieldfares. Indeed, they are often sold in the market with other small birds as an article of food ; but such diet is not very popular in England. We must not forget to mention that the thrush is a very orderly bird, and does not allow any litter near the nest. If any stones or rubbish happen to be THE SONG THRUSH. there, he carries them away. And the parent birds keep the little ones very clean. A naturalist once rubbed the backs of the young thrushes with mud, to see what the old birds would do. When they came back they were quite in a fuss, and took grass in their bills, and rubbed away at the feathers until there was not a speck of dirt left upon them. 02 I THE BLACKBIRD. The two most famous singers among our feathered friends are the blackbird and the thrush, and they both belong to the same family. Indeed, the black- bird might be called a black thrush. Yet his note is very different from that of his relative. It is not so lively, but makes up for it by richness and mellowness. On a spring evening, especially if it rains, what music is more delightful than that ot the blackbird, as he pours out his heart to his partner ? You may often see the blackbird on the lawn hunting for worms. He keeps his eye on the ground for a few minutes, and then hops up to the spot and gives a great peck. Then he drags out a worm and breaks it in pieces, swallowing it bit by bit. He is more shy than the thrush, but more lively in his disposition. He delights in the side of the hedge or of the wall, for there he can easily procure worms and snails. In the winter, when there are none to be had, he will devour berries of the hawthorn, or even betake himself to the farmyard, and pick up what grain he can find. If he is'disturbed, he utters a chuckling sound, a little like the magpie's. The blackbird does not sing entirely to amuse his mate, for he is often heard in the mild days of winter, when his notes are doubly welcome. In March he thinks about making his little arrangements for the summer, and he and his partner begin to build their nest. They place it in a bush of some kind or other, such as a laurel or a honeysuckle, or even a hole in the wall will be chosen as the favoured spot. It is a large nest, and the outer part is made of stalks of grass and twigs, woven with moss. Next there is a layer of mud, and then another layer of roots and stalks and leaves. The blackbirds rear two broods in the course of the summer, or even more. A pair of blackbirds were known to build four successive nests during the summer, and to rear seventeen young ones. There is a pretty story about the domestic life of the blackbird, to show that he is not free from many little cares. He and his mate had a brood of young ones, and kept feeding them all day long. But the mother had brought a large worm, and gave it to one of the brood. Then she flew away, but when she came back there was the worm sticking out of the mouth of the poor little bird in a very uncomfortable manner. The mother blackbird THE BLACKBIRD. lOI seemed taken quite by surprise, and uttered a cry of distress. Upon that, forth came her mate from a bough close by, as if to see what was the matter. THE BLACKBIRD. The two birds did all they could to make the worm go down, but in vain. Something prevented it, and it was a little time before they found out what it STOJ?/-ES ABOUT BIRDS. was. At last the blackbird perceived that the end of the worm had caught on the feathers of the breast, and was held tight, so that it could not be moved. He at once began to remedy the mischief, and to disengage the worm. It cost him a great deal of trouble to do so, but he succeeded at last, and then he held the worm in his bill, and gently put it down the throat of the little one. The poor little blackbird had narrowly escaped death, and as it was, it lay almost as if it were senseless for a long time. But the parent bird went on to his twig close by the nest, and sang one of his sweetest songs, as if rejoicing that the danger was over. THE WATER OUSEL. There are many sweet and retired places still left in England. Here and there, in some hilly county, you come on a wild glen, with a clear gushing stream dancing along, often over stones and jutting pieces of rock. Here ferns grow in abundance, and patches of purple heather, and here the birds rejoice in a happy security. Just such a spot as this is where the merry little dipper dwells. He is a neat compact bird, with rather glossy plumage. His throat is pure white, and his breast a chestnut brown, blending into grey. The white patch on his breast is seen sparkling in the sun as he stands perched on a stone in the stream. Everybody likes to see him. The tourist, as he makes his way through the delightful nook, pauses to say a kindly word to him. The angler knows him well, and so does the shepherd on the lone hillside. The naturalist stops to point out a curious fact that perhaps you do not know. The dipper is a relation of the thrush, and yet he seeks his food in the water. He fishes in a small way on his own account, and it is well if he is content to do so in some retired spot like this. The owner of some stream, who is trying to preserve his trout and salmon, finds great fault with the dipper. He accuses him of devouring the eggs of these valuable fishes, and persecutes him to the death. Here, however, are neither trout nor salmon, and we may pause a moment and watch his proceedings. '/'///? WAV/CR OUSEL. 103 He IS still standin^r on the stone, his tail jerked up, his wings drooping, and his legs bent. Presently he plunges into the water, in the most fearless manner, and dives under the surface. lie does not, however, dive head fore- most, like the langfisher, but takes a gentle walk into the stream, then opens THK WATER OUSEL. his wings a little, and goes beneath the surface. When under water he makes the most of his time, and jjicks up little eels or fishes, or all he can find. And he has been seen to fly under the water after his prey, waving his wings as if he were in the air ; then he comes to the surface again as buoyant as a cork. Sometimes he tumbles about under the water in a very odd way, with his head downwards, as if he were picking up something. He does not go very far under the water, but soon comes up again and settles on a stone ; nor does he walk on the bottom of the stream, for he is more of a hopping than a walking bird. His curved claws are very little use in running, but they can take hold of the slippery stones, and give him a firm footing. He utters a note as he flies like the word " chit ;" but, besides this, the dipper can warble a pleasant little song of his own, and that he keeps on singing all the year round. The nest is placed in a snug place on the bank of the stream, or in the roots of some tree that overhangs the water, or in a retired spot under a hedge. It is rather large, and a little like that of the wren, with a hole in front. It is made of the stems and leaves of grasses, and the lining is of leaves. Sometimes the leaves are from the beech-tree, and sometimes of ivy, according to the trees that are growing near the spot. Five or six white eggs are laid in this snug warm retreat ; and when the dippers have chosen the spot for the nest, they will come back to it year after year. The young dippers, like all other little birds, are extremely hungry, and require a great deal of attention from their parents. They stretch their heads over the nest a long way when they see the old birds coming; and if they are alarmed by anything, they will flutter out and drop into the water. Then they dive down, and come up at a safe distance. The young dipper has a bill like his near relative the thrush, only rather more slender. But he is not destined to live the life of the thrush, so his bill alters a little as he grows older. It becomes shorter, and the tips are like those of the woodpecker's bill. His claws also get blunted with scrambling about among the stones at the bottom of the water, to look for insects and worms. Though he is accused of injuring the salmon and trout, you must not suppose he has the same diet as the kingfisher. The fact is, he does not live on fish, but on water insects and the tiny soft-bodied creatures that hide among the stones ; and he has a gizzard like the thrush, which the fish and flesh eating birds have not THE LAUGHING THRUSH. loS THE LAUGHING THRUSH. Sometimes the traveller, as he pursues his way through some of the moun- tainous parts of India, comes on a tract of wooded country. Here, from THE LAUGHING THRUSH. among the foliage, there will, now and then, burst forth a sound so peculiar that it startles and alarms him. Bursts of most unpleasant and shrieking io6 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. laughter ring in his ear, and he wonders from whence they come. Perhaps, if he inquires further into the matter, he will catch sight of a large bird like that in the picture, with a white throat and head, and the rest of the plumage a reddish brown. He is called the laughing thrush, for the very reason we have stated ; and the name is as suitable as any that could be given. Numbers of laughing thrushes live in the wooded parts of this hilly district, and enjoy themselves amid the deep, cool shadow of the trees. They pick berries from the trees, and feed on insects and worms, which are procured by hunting about on the ground ; and some of the species, that inhabit other parts of the tropics, are a little like the shrikes or butcher-birds in their habits. They also live in thick woody districts, and place their nest in a bush. They are extremely noisy, like their relations, and climb about and creep among the foliage, eating the buds and leaves, and as many insects as they can pick up. THE SHRIKE, OR BUTCHER-BIRD. The shrike had better havs been put with the birds of prey, if we come to inquire into his private life. He has many habits that remind us of the hawk, and his beak has something about it that is very hawk-like. It is strong, and has a hooked point to it, and he uses it to tear and to devour. He will even swoop on his prey, strike it down with his bill, and carry it off, not, however, with his claws, but with his bill. Indeed, in the old days of falconry, the shrike was looked upon as a mongrel kind of hawk, and, to quote from an old book, " thought of no great regard." In the same old book it is said that the peasants and lower classes some- times tame the shrike, and carry him hooded on their wrists, and let him fly at small birds. On the continent, however, the shrike was used in catching the peregrine falcon himself A snare was set for him, and baited with a pigeon. Then at a little distance a tame shrike was placed, fastened to a string. The shrike was to act as a sentinel, and to give warning when the falcon came near. THE SHRIKE. 107 Meanwhile, the falconer took his ease in a hut close by, and waited the result. Presently a speck appeared in the sky, and the shrike would set up a loud scream, and run under a little shelter provided for him. The scream would be the note of warning to the falconer, and he would be on the alert, and ready to pull the string of the snare. But, in spite of all this, the shrike has a link with the perching birds, and THE MAGPIE SHRIKE, OR BUTCHER-BIRD. is placed with the nightingale and the thrush. His claws are fine and sharp, and his foot is that of a perching bird. Indeed, he seems to be a link between. the hawks, the crows, and the thrushes, and to partake a little of the character of each. The shrike is only a summer visitor, when he comes to England at all, and he does not build his nest or rear his young in this country. But he carries on the trade of catching and tearing his prey, which he does in such a manner, that he is called by the rather disagreeable name of " butcher-bird." io8 STOEJES ABOUT BIRDS. He delights in hedgerows and clumps of trees, or thickets that are not very dense. His habit is to sit perched on a twig, or on a decaying branch, and he will remain so long that the name " excubitor," or sentinel, has been given to him on this account, as well as on account of the help he used to render to the falconer. When a small bird or insect comes near, he will pounce upon it, and kill it by blows on the head from his bill. He will then hang it up on a thorn, or on the sharp twig of a tree, that he may the better tear it to pieces ; and what is left of the feast he will allow to hang up until his next meal time comes round. In his native wilds, in Africa, quite an array of little birds and insects have been found hanging up near the shrike's nest on a row of thorns. The nest is placed in thick bushes and high hedges, and is made of roots and moss and wool, and lined with dry grass. There are five or seven eggs, of a bluish white, spotted with brown or grey. Though the shrike is a rare visitor to us, his race is plentiful enough in other countries. He is found in all three continents, though not in South America or in Australia. His shape is very elegant, and his costume a clear pearly grey, with the under parts white ; and his wings and tail are black, tipped with white. His manner of flying is wavering, and some- times he hovers like the hawk. The little birds know and dread him greatly. One day a labourer, who was clipping a hedge, came to his master and said that a strange bird was sitting in it. His master went out to look, and examined every place, but could find no trace of a bird. A few days after, as he was walking by the hedge, he saw some blackbirds in a state of the utmost alarm, and uttering cries of terror. He thought a cat or a weasel must be about, but in a few minutes the strange bird his labourer had told him about flew out of the hedge and began to wheel round in the air. Sometimes it shot upwards with a kind of bound, and then hovered, suspended in the air, and moving its wings as quickly as possible. At last it alighted on the top of a willow-tree, and then he saw it was a grey shrike. A number of little birds were fluttering about in the utmost terror, and shrieking their notes of alarm. The shrike's attention was fixed upon them, and he seemed choosing which he should attack. Indeed, so eagerly was he watching his prey, that he did not see a gun was pointed at him. It was THE STARLING. 109 fired, and the little birds were at once saved from their enemy, for he fell to the ground, dead. The shrike has several notes that resemble those of the other birds, but none of his notes approach to anything hke a song. When he is alarmed, he screams loudly as the hawk does. The bird in the picture is called the magpie shrike, and is found in Australia, where he is very abundant. He is very fierce after his prey, which he kills by impaling it. There are a great many different members of the shrike family, but the grey shrike and the red-backed shrike are those that visit England. THE STARLING. The starlings are a large and widely-spread family of birds, rather larger than the thrush and the blackbird, and yet smaller than the rook. There is but one member of the family in England, and that is our familiar friend the common starling. He is a handsome bird, his black plumage glossed with green and purple ; and when he has reached his second year his beak is a brilliant yellow. He is as intelligent as he is handsome, and can be taught to whistle tunes and articulate words almost as well as the parrot. The company of the starlings about the house and garden is always pleasant. They are very sociable, and seem to live together in great harmony. Often they feed with the rooks, and pick up worms in the field. The nest is made in the eaves of a church steeple, or in holes in walls and ruins. It is built of straw and roots, or dry grass, and the eggs are a delicate pale blue colour. In the fenny parts of England, the young birds, when they are too large for the nests, roost among the reeds and bushes in the swampy-like districts of the country by thousands. The reeds are quite crushed down by their weight, and beaten to the surface of the water as if there had been a storm. Along the rocky shores of the Hebrides, the starlings are found in great numbers. Early in the morning they are seen coming from their safe retreats 1 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. in the rocks and cliffs, and making their way to the fields and meadows. They are fond of the farmyards and the folds where the cattle are shut up at night, and they may be seen perched on the wall, or on the backs of the cows and horses, or else searching on the ground for insects and worms. They THE ROSE STARLING. keep in flocks, and fly in a compact body. When they alight on a meadow they disperse and run nimbly along, hunting for food. They dig up the worm or grub in the same manner that the crow does. All the time some of the party keep up a chattering noise, and now and then a little scream, is heard. This is the note of alarm, and the starlings look up, and often fly away as fast as they can. In sunny weather they may be seen on the top of a wall, I THE STARLING. singing, in a low but sweet voice, a song that is not, of course, equal to that of the thrush, but when performed in concert is very agreeable. The rose starling is only seen in this country at rare intervals. He is THE SUPERB GLOSSY STARLING. very handsome, and has a rose-coloured beak, and his plumage is glossed with violet blue. On his head he wears a flowing crest, and his back and part of the wings are a delicate rose colour. His native lands are Syria, Egypt, and Africa ; and he feeds op the locust, so that in places where that scourge abounds he is held sacred. He flies in flocks like the starling. 112 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. and has the same habits. And the nest is built in holes of trees and of old walls. In India the beautiful rose-coloured birds fly in vast arnaies, such as we have described, and darken the air. This is just when the grain is ripe in the fields, and they play the part of the locusts themselves, and devour all before them. THE SUPERB GLOSSY STARLING. Some members of the starling family go by the name of glossy starlings, and are extremely handsome. They live among woods and rocks, and have all the sharpness and sagacity of their race. They will settle on the backs of the cattle and clear them from insects. At the same time, they are fond of fruits and seeds, and sometimes, like the vulture, will feed on carrion. The bird in the picture is the glossy starling, and is so called on account of the beautiful gloss on the feathers, that are like satin. Indeed, one member of the family has such a shine on his plumage, that the effect is like a flash of sunlight. These beautiful birds are not seen in England. The superb glossy starling lives in the remote parts of Africa, and wears a costume of green and copper colour, the feathers being tipped with black. The throat and breast are of blue, and over all the plumage there is a gloss more brilliant than can be described. The glossy starling is a sociable bird, and flies about in company. He hides himself among the trees if he is alarmed, and makes a loud cry like a scream. THE CHOUGH. The chough forms a kind of link between the crows and the starlings, and before we tell you much about him we will tell you the character that a natu- ralist has given to the family of crows. ABOUT CROWS. "3 He says the crows have the most varied powers, and show the greatest perfection of any of the birds. Not that they possess any one faculty in a THE CHOUGH. very high degree above their fellows, but they seem to have united in them selves all the qualities of the other birds. They can soar high like the eagle, and they can walk on the ground with a firm tread. They can feed on both animal and vegetable diet, and do not 1 ri4 STOHIES ABOUT BIRDS. refuse carrion. Indeed, their sense of smell is quite as acute as the vulture's. They have great courage, and they are very sociable, and live in communities. When properly educated they can talk like the parrot, and their cunning, mischievous ways and droll tricks show a quickness and sagacity that no other birds possess. The chough is not very common in England. He is known from the true crows by the colour of his beak, that is red, and is different in shape from theirs. He lives entirely by the sea-coast, and walks along on the most giddy heights, thanks to his strong legs and toes. There is a passage in the play of " King Lear " in which the chough is mentioned : — ' ' How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low ! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles. Halfway do^vn Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade ! The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice. The murmuring surge. That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high !" The cliff of which the poet speaks is at Dover, and is well stocked with choughs. There is a story that they came there by accident. The whole colony are said to be descended from one pair of birds, which came from some gentleman's garden and settled there. There are many other steep places about the coast where the choughs live ; and he is so partial to Cornwall as to be called the Cornish chough, and the old Cornish families had the figure of the bird graven on their armour. He wears, as you see, the black suit of his race, glossed with blue. His beak, legs, and toes are vermilion red, while his claws are a shining black. The voice of the chough is very shrill, and may often be heard in the places where he is found. He has even been caught and tamed, and then he -was found to be a very amusing pet. He has all the curiosity of his race, and pries into everything that is at all new to him. A tame chough that was kept in a garden performed all kinds of ridiculous antics. When the gardener was nailing up the fruit-trees by the wall, the chough would peep and pry into the nail-box, and turn everything over. Then he would carry off as many nails as he could, and leave bits of cloth and shreds littered all over the walk. If THE RAVEN. 115 the ladder were left standing, the chough would go up it with an air of intense curiosity, and hop on to the top of the wall. He would knock at the kitchen door, if he was hungry, and wanted something to be given to him. And if he could get his own way, nothing pleased him more than roaming all over the house and getting on to the roof He disliked children very much indeed, and would hardly allow them to come into the garden. Nor would he permif the least liberty to be taken with him, even by his best friends, and he used to give them a severe peck on the slightest provocation. THE RAVEN. The raven is a bird that appears to know a great deal more than he chooses to tell. Look how solemn he is, in his suit of jet black, and how intently he seems to be thinking ; and he does think sometimes to some purpose. He has many good qualities, of which we shall speak by-and-by. But I am afraid at the present moment the raven in the picture has been stealing some- thing, and is wondering where he can hide it. A raven used to hop about the bridge over the Serpentine in Hyde Park, and was quite a public character. A lady once passed over the bridge, and chanced to drop her golden bracelet from her arm. She turned round in a great hurry to pick it up, but the raven, who was standing close by, and watching all that went on, was much too quick for her. In a second he had snapped it up, and had flown away with it in his bill, and was quite out of sight. Of course, in process of time he came back, but without the bracelet ; nor could any trace of it be found, hidden as it was in the retreat where the raven kept his treasures. The raven's extreme gravity and sedateness impart to him a great deal of dignity. His dress of glossy black is very handsome, and has in it a shade of steel blue. He is larger than his relation the crow, and his strong beak and talons make him almost equal to a bird of prey. He is very cunning and very cautious. He is scarcely ever caught in a trap ; he is far too wary for that. H 2 But he watches with great interest while a trap is being set for somebody else^ such as a fox, or a bear, or a wolf. And he does not like to lose sight of it either, for he feels a great hankering after the bait. He waits in his patient and solemn manner until some foolish creature has been caught in the trap, and then, choosing his opportunity, he will step in and devour the bait. He will also rob the nests of other birds, and carry away whatever he finds, whether eggs or chicks. It is not easy to come near the raven when he is in his native wilds. But if his nest chanced to be found and taken, he would not try to defend it. He would stand at some distance and look on with a very mournful air, and give now and then a pitiful croak. And he has been seen to fly a long way off, and then, perhaps in an agony erf grief, tumble about in the air as if he had been shot. The raven feeds, like the crow, on the bodies of dead animals. But if he has a chance of varying his diet, he does not scruple to do so. And a taste of young lamb, or poultry, or even eggs is by no means despised. And it is on this very account that the farmer often puts a price upon his head. There is always a touch of mischief about the raven, and he likes to torment even his friends now and then. A gentleman, who is a great friend to the birds, had a pet raven that amused him very much. He had also a pet dog, and, on the whole, the two pets were very friendly. But the raven could not refrain from playing his companion a few tricks. On a hot summer's afternoon the dog would stretch himself out in the sun for his afternoon's nap, and the raven would stand solemnly by, as if guarding his friend. But all at once, and as quick as lightning, he would give him a sharp peck. The dog would wake up with a growl, and look about him. There stood the raven, as grave and as innocent as could be, and no one could imagine he was the guilty party. The dog did not even suspect him, and after another growl he lay down again to finish his nap. But no sooner was he asleep than there came another sharp peck, that roused him up and made him very cross. This time he would look at the raven. But no, the raven has not moved a feather. There he stands, as grave as a judge, and with an air of the utmost innocence. This game would go on for a long time, until the dog lost patience, and walked away, giving up all idea of a nap. The raven is getting scarce in England ; he lives in the wild and lonely THE RAVEN. 117 parts of the country, and is very seldom to be seen. But in the islands on the coast of Scotland, such as the Hebrides, the ravens abound ; and THE BA.VEN. tare their habits and manners have often been watched by the patient ^ naturalist. n8 STOHIES ABOUT BIRDS. When the raven is searching for food, he walks along the ground in the same way as the crow; but when alarmed or excited, he leaps and jumps, using the wings as well as the feet. He flies in a steady manner, and rises very high in the air, so as some- times to overtake the hawk, or even the eagle, as he soars along high over the mountain tops, in stormy weather, when no other bird ventures abroad. People have even called the raven "the tempest-loving raven," but without much truth. No doubt he has scented prey at a distance, and no weather, however bad, can then keep him at home. When he comes in sight of his prey, he alights on some stone or wall, folds up his wings, and gives an expressive croak. Then he comes a little nearer, for he is too solemn and dignified to do anything in a hurry. He steadfastly regards his prey, looking very much as you see him in the picture. Then he leaps upon it, and begins to examine it carefully. Satisfied that all is right, he gives another croak to express his pleasure, and begins at once the feast. By this time another raven is sure to have come up, and by-and-by a gull swoops down as if asking for a share. Before the feast is over, it often happens that the royal eagle, the king of the birds, makes his appearance, and then the revellers give way a little. They retire to a short distance — the ravens standing still and solemn, and waiting with dignified patience ; the gulls walking backwards and forwards in- a restless manner, and uttering peevish cries, as if angry at the interruption,, yet not daring to prevent it. If, however, the prey is large enough, a mutual feeling seems to prevail that there will be something to spare for them all, and ravens, gulls, and eagle will feed quietly side by side. It is very curious how the ravens, as we said before, seem to spring up by magic. In parts of the world where they do not live, if an animal dies, or a fish is cast on shore, all at once, and without the least warning, there steps solemnly in the raven ; then comes another, and so on, till very soon the beach or the field is black with them. The raven builds her nest in places where no one can reach it — on some tree that juts out over the face of the rock; and sometimes the nest is close by that of the eagle, in which case the king of the birds does not seem inclined to be, on the whole, a troublesome neighbour ; but when now and then little skirmishes do take place, the fault is generally on the side of the raven. THE CARRION CROW. 119 THE CARRION CROW. Our friend the raven, as we know, is not very particular as to his doings. He will often condescend to feed with the vultures, and has a strong touch of THE CARIilON CROW. the vulture about him. But he is a grand and noble bird compared with his relative the carrion crow. The very name which has been given to the crow tells you what dis- agreeable habits he is guilty of; and yet this part of his character is the most harmless. Nature has given him the same appetite, as the vulture, and the same propensity for clearing away refuse matter. And if he kept to his STOJilES ABOUT BIRDS. trade, he would not be so cordially detested as he is. But he is a cruel and relentless bird. He watches the struggles of poor creatures who are ill or in pain, and he and his companion attack and devour them. In lonely districts he is a terrible enemy to the lambs and the sheep, and is guilty of the most barbarous deeds. In fact, he is always ready to attack any bird or animal that is exhausted and unable to defend itself. The crow is, as you see, very much like the raven in appearance, only he is smaller. He is a solitary bird, and walks about in the same way that the raven does, and utters a harsh croak. He is also very much like the rook, though the two birds do not neighbour with each other. The nest is on a rock or a tall tree, and is large, and made of twigs, with a lining of moss and wool and hair. The crow chooses a crooked tree or ash that grows at the bottom of a glen or near a farmyard. There he can keep watch for any pieces of offal that may be thrown out from the kitchen door ; and he is quite a weather- guide. If a storm is coming on, the crows are sure to be seen in a sheltered place, or else hurrying to some such refuge to escape what is coming. When the crow is building her nest, she is anxious to find some soft material to line it, and she often casts her greedy eye upon the wool on the sheep's back. She is a natural enemy, as we said before, to the sheep and the lambs, and will always attack them in any moment of weakness when the shepherd is not there to protect them. But all these bad acts of hers do not prevent her from borrowing, or rather stealing, their wool. She is often seen sitting on the back of a sheep, picking out pieces with her bill, and then carrying them to the nest. She feeds her young abundantly with all kinds of provisions, and what they cannot eat she carries away, and throws down at some distance. A pair of crows once built their nest in a rocky glen, and a green hillock near was literally covered with egg-shells that had been thrown out as refuse. You may suppose that the carrion crow has not many friends. There are no bounds to his rapacity. Scarcely a nest anywhere in the neighbourhood escapes him. The pheasants and partridges are dragged out of their nests, and even the young hares do not escape, to say nothing of the chickens and ducklings that he is always watching his opportunity to steal. He is just as great a thief as far as the eggs are concerned, and carries them off in Jiis bill. THE ROOK. At least, he was seen to do so one day by a gentleman who was sitting reading out of doors. The crow flew over his head with the egg in his bill, and dropped it on the ground. It was not broken, as you might suppose, but was quite whole. The crow had stolen it out of the nest of the wild duck. Like the raven and the magpie, he steals all kinds of things that can do him no kind of good, and carries them off to his hiding-place. THE UOOK. THE ROOK. We need hardly describe the rook, you know him so well. His silky, glossy plumage shines in the sun, as he struts about the field looking for worms. He is the earliest abroad of all the birds. When the dew is on the grass, and ere the sun has risen, he betakes himself to the open country, to feed on the worms that have come to the surface of the ground ; or he even condescends to visit the streets and search among the heaps of refuse that lie there waiting to be carried away. All day long you may see him at work in the pastures. He breaks up STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. pieces of dry mould with his bill, and digs among the tufts of grass, to see if any grubs have harboured there. Towards evening, the rooks collect into straggling flocks, and come back to their homes to roost. Every summer evening, at the same hour, they sail over the garden to their abode in the tree-tops, with the regularity of clockwork. In hot weather they suffer greatly from the absence of moist food, and were it not for their early breakfast, would be badly off. They are seen wandering by hedges and ditches, looking for grasshoppers or what insects they can find ; and if they have young ones, their efforts to procure food are ceaseless. In autumn all the family cares of the rook are over, and he leads a life of ease and of enjoyment. He puts on a new suit of glossy black, and wanders at large over the country. Sometimes he and his friends visit gardens and orchards, but in this case one or two rooks are always perched on the wall, to give notice of danger. But though the staple food of the rook is worms and grubs, he has no objection to other fare. He will eat seeds and acorns and beech-nuts, and, when he can get them, eggs. In the winter the rook is in as great distress as during a dry summer. If the snow lies a long time on the ground, nothing is to be found. The rooks then become desperate, and attack the corn-ricks in the farmyard, and do a great deal of mischief The distance to which the rooks fly in search of food is very great. They will go twenty miles and back by the afternoon. If the rooks come back earlier than usual, there is sure to be a fall of snow or of rain the next day. There is an old saying, " As happy as a rook on a Sunday," and some people think that rooks know when Sunday comes round. They seem to take it for granted that nobody is at home, and will venture much nearer to the house than on any other day, and take liberties not to be thought of at any other time. They seem quite at their ease, and aware that no gun is to b-; fired on a Sundav. THE JACKDAW. 123, THE JACKDAW. THE JACKDAW. Wherever the rook is, there is always found the jackdaw, for they are old and familiar friends. And their habits are very much alike, for they live together in communities, and choose to reside near the dwellings of man. £24 STOJilES ABOUT BIRDS. But the jackdaw is more brisk and lively than the rook, and has not his solemn airs. And he makes his nest in a more sheltered position, and loves to niche it into the old church tower or the belfry. And he will place it among the giant masses of Stonehenge, in some snug corner, or even on a high cliff. He has no idea of leaving his house open, as the rook does, to all weathers, and certainly it is much more snug. It is made of sticks for the foundation, after the fashion of the rook. And sometimes, when the jackdaw builds in a chimney, he will bring so many sticks as quite to stop it up. You would think he would object to the smoke, but he does not seem to mind it, or care about the fire below in the grate. As for the lining of his nest, he makes it of all the soft materials he can find, or pilfer, for it does not matter to him which. Of course, wool is found there, but mixed with it are many odd things he has picked up as he goes prying about. Pieces of worsted, or bits of lace or of silk, even caps and frills, find their way to the jackdaw's nest, and make a soft bed for the little jackdaws to lie upon. And a merrier or more mischievous family you could not find anywhere. We can give you a specimen of how the jackdaw conducts himself when he wants materials for his nest, for he is extremely sharp and clever. There is a botanic garden at Cambridge, where all kinds of valuable plants are reared, and a wooden label is stuck in the ground near each plant. The colleges and churches in the town yield ample accommodation for numbers of jackdaws, and their nests are perched aloft in every nook and cranny. But every year new nests have, of course, to be built, and old ones repaired. Many of the jackdaws could look down into the gardens from their steeples and belfries, and they spied out the wooden labels. It seemed to occur to them that they need not be at the trouble of fetching twigs, when these little pieces of wood were close at hand. Down they came and helped themselves without any stint. Of course, the gardeners found it extremely inconvenient to have the labels pulled up, which the jackdaws persisted in doing every year, and using for the foundation of their nests. Eighteen dozen labels were taken out of one chimney only, and brought back to their owners. We could tell you many more anecdotes of this very amusing bird. A jackdaw once chose to make its nest on the step of a stone staircase in a church. The steps were so twisted, that the birds could not make a firm THE MAGPIE. 125 enough foundation. So they set to work and brought sticks, literally by hundreds, until they had piled them up high eneugh to reach a landing, and there they placed the nest. The labour of bringing such quantities of sticks was immense. Like the rook, the jackdaw wears a suit of black, but he is smaller than his solemn relation. His voice is shrill, and he can be taught to imitate the human voice, and talk almost like a parrot. He lives on pretty much the same food as the crows, and will eat almost anything. And, like them, he carries food home for his young ones under the tongue. He is a most amusing pet, and his droll doings are without end. He likes to find out everything, even how to light lucifer matches. A tame jackdaw once took immense pains to perform this feat properly. When the family were gone to bed this was his favourite pastime. He had taken care to pick them up whenever he could find them, and having burnt himself severely, and lighted the kitchen fire in the middle of the night, he con- sidered himself perfect in the art. But it was a dangerous game to play. and a stop was soon put to it. THE MAGPIE. The magpie, like the raven and the jackdaw, is not very honest, and he has a great deal of cunning. He is, however, extremely handsome ; his bill and his feet are black, with a shade of bluish purple. There are patches of white about him, both on the shoulder and under the body. His tail is very long, and shines with green and purple, there being a band of purple near the end of each feather, and the tip is blue and deep green. He is a very sociable bird, and can easily be tamed. There is, however, the same objection to a tame magpie as to a tame raven — his love of stealing. Many a trinket has been snatched from a lady's toilet-table by a tame magpie and securely hidden away in his nest. What use these stolen goods can be to him, as he does not wear either rings or bracelets, is a question not easily answered. But he is not always content with this kind of booty. On a fine day he may be seen walking in the same way as the rook. 1 126 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. but every now and then giving a leap in a sideway direction. His tail he carries erect, as if unwilling that its beauty should be soiled by touching the ground. He is looking out for prey, and very soon he spies a worm half out of its hole. It is an unlucky moment for the worm, since, before it has time to draw back, the magpie has pulled it out, torn it in pieces, and devoured it. Next comes a snail, that is cleverly taken out of its shell, as a choice morsel. And, by-and-by, a still more agreeable object appears in the distance. A hen is leading her brood of plump young chickens out into the field. The magpie spies them out with delight, and advances by a series of leaps. It is easy to guess what are his intentions, but the watchful mother is on her guard. She knows the visit of the magpie bodes no good, and, when he comes near, eyeing one of the chickens in a peculiar manner, she flies at him like a fury, her feathers ruffled, and her kind, motherly eye like a flame of fire, and scolding with all her might. The sudden attack is too much for the magpie. He retreats before it, and flies up the nearest tree. His flight is heavy, on account of his tail, and his wings are rather short. But he is soon out of the way of the hen, who raises the shrill cry of danger, and, smoothing her feathers, begins to cluck and call her brood together. Many poor little partridges fall victims to the magpie. Day after day he follows them about, until nearly all of them are gone. And so impudent is he that he will keep on the watch close to the farmer's house, and within sight of the family, for the chance of a hen or a duck going away for a moment, or a little chick wandering to an unsafe distance. Then he is sure to pounce upon it. One day a farmer saw a magpie carrying off a chicken in his very sight. He fired his gun at her, but, though one leg was shot off", she still flew away and escaped. For a short time nothing more was seen of the magpie. But she appeared again on the scene in the course of a week or two, and began the same game of thieving. One day the farmer saw her going after a young duckling. It fled to the pond to escape her, and swam away on the water. The magpie seemed bent on its destruction, and rashly ventured a little way into the water. Her wings became so wet that she could not all at once rise in the air. The farmer was close behind, with a stick in his hand, and the magpie fell a victim to her habits of thieving, being killed on the spot. THE MAGPIE. 127 The magpie has a chattering note peculiar to himself. He is a great talker, and sometimes turns his talents to account. If a fox or a cat is lurking about, he utters a warning cry, and keeps on doing so until the enemy has slunk out of sig-ht. A ,^x THE MAGPIE. He himself has many enemies, and requires all his activity and cunning to keep out of danger. The habit he has of robbing the nest of the pheasant, or the partridge, or the grouse, makes the gamekeeper at war with him, and he fires at every magpie he sees. The farmer is not any more fond of him 128 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. than the gamekeeper, and his gun is often aimed at him. He remembers the magpie's love for young chickens, and that the farmyard is none the better for his visits. Besides this, the other birds are not very friendly with the magpie, and do not much like him, because when they are away he will come and steal the eggs out of their nests. Yet, in spite of all, the magpie is resolved, like the rook, to live near to the dwellings of man. He can pick up so many treasures, and eke out his supply of food by what he finds. Early in March the magpies begin to build their nests, and choose the top of a tall tree, such as an ash or an elm ; or, where such accommodation is not to be had, they will even place the nest in a hedge. It is a very large nest, and can be known at once by its size and its oval shape. First there is a layer of twigs, and then a layer of mud ; and then it is covered with a roof, or dome, made of twigs, and a hole is left in the side for the magpie to get in. Within this sheltered retreat the eggs are laid. They differ much in colour, and are sometimes blue, specked or spotted, and sometimes of a pale green. THE NUTCRACKER. Very rarely, indeed, is the nutcracker seen in England. Two instances only are recorded of the bird being shot as a specimen. He is about the size of the common jay, and his plumage is a dull reddish brown, with white spots. His home is on the continent, and among the pine forests of mountainous regions. His food is fir seeds and nuts. He fixes the nut, or cone, in a cleft of the tree, and then splits it open with a blow from his great strong bill, and gets out the kernel. He can climb and walk with the greatest ease, but does not fly with the same agility. The voice of the bird is very harsh and dis- agreeable, and he is far below the crows and ravens in sagacity. The nest is placed in the deep recesses of the pine forest, almost beyond THE NUTCRACKER. I 29 the reach of man. It is made of the young branches of the fir, and the bird seems to have a taste for ornament. She mixes in leaves from the fir to give a better effect to the nest, and the same thing is done on the inside. She THE NUTCRACKER. works in moss and leaves, so that the appearance is highly finished. Some pale blue eggs, spotted with brown, are laid in this elegant abode. Besides the supply of nuts which the birds procure in the forest, they have other articles of diet. They will eat insects, and not content with this, will attack small animals, as the birds of prey do ; the merry little squirrel, as he runs among the branches, often falls a victim to the nutcracker. The bird seizes it by the neck, and breaks its skull with his bill. THE BIRD OF PARADISE. Far away from England are a number of islands lying in the very heart of the tropical seas. They are to the south of Malacca, and if you look on the map you can easily find them. The largest of them is called New Guinea, and is one of the biggest islands in the world. The people who live in it are quite uncivilised, and it is not often that the white man pays them a visit. But a very beautiful bird lives in the deep recesses of the far-off forests of these islands, the most lovely, perhaps, of the whole feathered family. He is called the Bird of Paradise. The chiefs of New Guinea, and some of the other islands, used to trade in Birds of Paradise, and sell them to a number of traders who came sometimes to buy and sell. The traders were not white men, but came from China or Malacca, or some of the other islands, and held a kind of fair, that lasted for some time ; and they always took away some choice specimens of the Birds of Paradise. Now and then one found its way to Europe. We can give you no idea of the bird in the picture by mere description. It is called the Red Bird of Paradise, and his plumes are crimson, tipped with white. The throat is a rich green, and there is a tuft of green feathers on his head ; and there are two long quills, a little like whalebone, that hang down with a curve. His home is in a little island close by New Guinea, and every year a number of Birds of Paradise are sent as a tribute to the chiefs of another island. The native goes into the forest with his bow and arrow to shoot them. He lies hidden very snugly in a little hut he has made, and presently he sees the most wonderful sight you can imagine. THE BIRDS OF PARADISE. 131 First one Bird of Paradise, and then anotlier, comes to settle on the broad leafy top of a tree that grows close by the hut. There is the Great Bird of Paradise, the only one we ever see in England — that is, as a stuffed bird ; never as a living one. You have no idea of his beauty when he is moving about near THE RED BIRD OF PARADISE. the tree, the sun flashing on his wonderful colours. His head and neck are yellow, and his throat of a lovely green ; then his plumes are of an orange- gold colour, and look like fans of gold. The Birds of Paradise are very lively in their dispositions, and they have quite a frolic at the top of the tree, and fly about and wave their splendid plumes until the tree seems alive with them. But the native, from his little green hut below, has watched all their movements. His arrows have blunt points to them, for he does not wish to ruffle the plumage of the bird ; and he takes aim, and shoots at one of the merry, frolicsome group. The poor bird falls stunned to the ground, and then it is picked up and killed. When the native has killed as many as he can carry, he takes them home to his hut. He is a native bird-stuffer, and he dries and prepares the body so that it shrinks almost to nothing. But the beautiful plumes display themselves to great advantage. Then, when all are ready, he sells the birds to the traders who stop at the island. There are many diff"erent kinds of birds, all clad in the most brilliant costume, that live in the deep forests of New Guinea, and have never been seen alive by the white man. In that part of the world they are as common as the blackbird and the thrush are with us — and there only are they found. THE GOLDFINCH. There is a family of bright, cheerful, active little birds, that are favourites with everybody. They have short, thick, and very strong bills, that are employed without ceasing from morning till night. Both parts of the beak are thick ahke, and exactly the same size, so that when the bill is closed it looks like a short cone, and it opens very wide. Some of the family have beaks as large as their heads ; but these are tropical relations of our own finch, and are never seen in England. We have many kinds of finches in England. They wear different costumes, and are admired for their clean, neat, bright appearance, and the pleasant song they can sing. They have a very great amount of intelligence and docility, and can be taught all kinds of amusing tricks. The goldfinch is the prince of his tribe, and by far the most admired of any. He is a rather slender bird, with a beak of moderate thickness. He GOLDFri>JCm! THE HELMET COCKATOO. Of course, the owner of the rice-field does all he can to destroy them, and looks upon them as the greatest pests in the world. There are many cockatoos in Australia, not black, like one about which '68 , STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. we shall tell you presently, but of a light rosy tint, and with a sulphur- coloured crest. They like to fly about on the banks of the rivers where there are great trees close by ; and here they enjoy themselves as the parrots do, and bathe, and take their afternoon naps, and lead pretty much the same sort of life. The native thinks nothing is better sport than to go out to shoot cockatoos. He has to be very careful, for the birds are extremely shy, and if they catch sight of him will fly away to a distance. So when he has seen the flock of birds in the air, which he is almost sure to do if he goes in the right direction, he hides himself behind a bush. Then he creeps in the most cautious manner, and contrives to come as near to them as he can. The birds, meantime, are going to roost on the trees, and make as much noise and uproar as the parrots. They spy out the native before long, for there are several cockatoos on the watch ready to give the alarm, and they huddle together as close as they can, and begin to be frightened. The native has a spear in his hand that he manages in a very clever way. He flings it among the birds so that it spins about and knocks one or two of them down. Of course, they rise up, and try to fly away ; but, whichever way they turn, some unlucky bird is sure to meet with a blow from the spear. The cockatoo is, as we told you, very affectionate, and the native is unkind enough to trifle with his feelings. He picks up a poor wounded bird, and fastens it to a tree. The bird makes a piteous outcry, and its friends and companions come back to see what is the matter. Then the native throws his spear, and knocks some more of them down. Almost all the cockatoo family are dressed in light rosy-coloured plumage. But there is a great black cockatoo that, as his name tells you, wears nothing but sable. He is a very curious bird, and lives in Australia, and also in the islands near New Guinea, where the Birds of Paradise have their home. He has rather a small body, but his head is very large indeed, and he has a crest of black feathers. His cheeks are red, and as for his bill, you see what it is like by looking in the picture. That bill of his can crack the hardest nut in the forest. The nuts grow on a very tall tree, and the shell is as hard as iron. No other bird can manage to get out the kernel except the black cockatoo. He holds the nut in his foot, and wraps it in a leaf to keep it from slipping, for it is very THE BLACK COCKATOO. i6q THE CASMALOS COCKATOO. smooth indeed ; and then he digs the sharp end of his bill into it. He contrives to get out the kernel with his tongue bit by bit. His tongue is the most curious part of him. It is red, and can be 1 17° STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. pushed out to a great distance. There is a horny kind of plate at the end of it. He is not so noisy as the rest of his tribe, and when he flics he makes no sound. His note is a low plaintive whistle, and the slightest wound kills him. He does not live in company like his relations the parrots ; only two or three black cockatoos are seen together, and they are not at all common. THE BRUSH TURKEY. THE BRUSH TURKEY. There is a large family of birds, called scratchers, some of which are of the utmost use to mankind. Their flesh is wholesome, and forms an agreeable article of diet, and their eggs are a staple article of food. This very useful class of birds includes, as you will at once perceive, the fowls that peck about the farmyard, and that are sold in the market daily ; and it comprises turkeys, pheasants, grouse, and many more. THE SCRATCHER FAMILY. m All these birds feed on grain and seeds, and are provided with a strong gizzard to crush the food. The ground is the place where they seek their food, and their strong toes are usually occupied in scratching for it. They are careless nest-makers, and have none of the skill ot the smaller birds. Often the nest is a mere hole scratched in the ground ; nor can they utter sweet and mellow notes like the smaller birds. They can cluck and crow, and scream and gobble, but there is not a single musical voice among them. Some of the tribe — we might say nearly all of them — are splendidly dressed, and belong to warmer countries than our own. The turkey, though he is reared with great care in England, is not a native of our climate. He and his companions in their native state live in the forests of North America ; and his plumage is far more handsome than that of his relative in England. The brush turkeys are natives of Australia. They are very curious birds in their habits. In the spring, when the eggs are about to be laid, they set to work and get together a heap of stalks, and grass, and rubbish. It takes them some weeks to make the heap large enough. When the mound is finished, the mother turkeys lay their eggs inside it, and leave them there to be hatched by the heat of the decaying matter. But though the turkey does not sit upon her eggs, she keeps to the spot, to watch over them ; and she will even put in her head to look if all is going on right. The little ones come out of the eggs with their feathers on, and their wings strong enough to enable them to fly off to the branches of the trees. THE CAPERCAILZIE. The grouse family always seem to remind us of the moors and heaths o( Scotland, or the mountainous parts of Europe. And such are the places in, which they make their home. They are not so gaily attired as the pheasants, and have none of the handsome crests or the brilliant colours so much admired among those rare and beautiful birds. There is no naked skin about the head, except one smnU 1 »72 STOJilES ABOUT BIRDS. space that surrounds the eye, and which is of a scarlet hue. The tail, witli some few exceptions, is short, and the hind toe small and weak. Some members of the family are found in warm countries, but, as a rule, the grouse inhabit cold and alpine regions. And in some cases the bird is protected by a clothing of feathers down to the tips of the toes. The bird in the picture is the prince of his tribe, and his name is derived from a Gaelic word meaning " horse of the wood," and refers to his large size. He is as large as a turkey, and his plumage is black freckled with white, so as to look almost like grey. The breast is a handsome green, and the wings chestnut red, while the tail is black tipped with white. The northern parts of .Scotland once abounded with this magnificent bird. His chief haunt was the pine forest, and his favourite food the tender leaves and shoots of the Scotch fir. But his great beauty and savoury flesh caused him to become an object of attraction. He was easily found on account of his size and appearance, and at last was completely hunted down and destroyed. The last specimen was killed about seventy years ago in the woods of Scotland. But great efforts have been made to repair the loss. Some of the Scottish nobility have procured birds from Sweden, and set them on eggs. Many young birds thus hatched have been turned out into the forests, and in time the race may again become plentiful. Besides the shoots of the Scotch fir, the capercailzie, or " cock of the woods," as he is called, will eat juniper- berries, cran-berries, and any other kind of forest fruit, and the young birds will even eat insects and worms. In the early spring, when the snow is yet on the ground, the bird places himself on a pine-tree and begins what is termed his love song. He not only sings, but dances. His wings drop, his tail is spread out like a fan, and he looks very much like a turkey-cock when he is angry and gobbling. The note he utters sounds like the word " pillar, pillar," and he goes on getting more and more excited until he hardly knows how to contain himself He has his dancing times — from the first dawn of day until the sun rises, and then from sunset until dark. And he has his dancing places, where the game goes on spring after spring. And what is rather funny, the old birds will not allow the young ones to play and sing in their places. But if the old bird happens to be shot, a young one is sure to set up his note in the very same spot in the course of a few days. THE CAPERCAILZIE. 173 The mother birds, who are scattered in the forest, hear all this singing and dancing, and they reply to it by a note very much like the croak of a THE CAPERCAILZIE. raven, and utter the sound " gock, gock, gock." And they come to the tree where the performance is going on. The nest of the capercailzie is made upon the ground, and there are aDout twelve eggs in it, of a pale yellow brown spotted with orange. The 1 174 STOXIES ABOUT BIRDS. mother bird sits a whole month, and is quite forsaken by her partner, who skulks about in the wood, and renews his plumage, while she is busy with her domestic cares. The capercailzie lives a great deal upon the ground, unless the snow happens to be deep. He sits also on the uppermost boughs of his favourite pine-trees, and in the night roosts there. Sometimes, however, if the weather is very severe, he gets quite into the snow, and buries himself. He can fly to rather a great height, considering the tribe to which he belongs, and can keep on the wing for several miles. The birds are sometimes kept in Sweden in aviaries, and made so tame as to eat out of their owners' hand. Their food consists of oats and the usual leaves and shoots of the pine. And large branches are put into their cages once a week. And in England the same experiment has been made, and a brace of the birds have not only lived in confinement, but reared a family of six young ones. When the young birds are reared in this manner, they become as tame as the cocks and hens, and may be allowed to go at large. At the same time, the cock never loses his native courage, and will often fly at people and peck them. There was an old cock that for many years was well known on a certain estate in Sweden. When he heard the sound of people's footsteps, he would come out of his lair and peck their legs and feet, flapping his wings all the time. And another bird lived in a wood through which a public road passed. Whenever a person went by on the road, out would come the capercailzie, and make an attack, and it was not easy to drive him away. At length he was caught and carried from the place, but he was so fierce that the man who took him was obliged to let him go, and in a day or two he was seen at his old haunts. In the northern forests the sport of hunting the capercailzie is thought to be excellent. It is not very easy to take aim at the bird, because he has a way of dipping down from the branch to the ground, and running away before the hunter can come within firing distance. In the winter, however, the birds are in companies of sometimes a hundred and fifty, and they keep to the sides of lakes and rivers. And then the sportsmen go out with their guns. And in one part of Sweden a very destructive plan is adopted. The birds are shot in the night by torchlight. The plan is to watch their flight as they go into the forest to roost, and to mark the direction so as to be able to follow it. Then THE BLACK-COCK. 175 at nightfall two men set out, one with a gun, and the other with a long pole, to each end of which a torch is fastened. The man with the torch goes first, and they make their way as well as they can to the tree on which they believe the birds to be roosting. Very soon they reach the spot, and there are the poor birds wrapped in slumber ; even when they wake they seem to have no idea of escaping, but stare in a stupid manner at the blazing torches till they are nearly all shot down. THE BLACK-COCK. The handsome bird of which we have been speaking is not fitted to live in the present state of our island. Britain is too thickly peopled for it to find any secure retreat, and the size and beauty of the capercailzie, and the great demand for it as an article of food, have occasioned its destruction. Though efforts are being made to bring it back, yet it belongs, as it were, to the past. But there are still some very handsome members of the grouse family remaining, and among these is the black grouse, or black-cock, as he is called. He is a large strong bird, with handsome plumage, and the plumes of the feathers are very full and large, especially those at the hinder part of the body, which project beyond the tail feathers in the manner you see in the picture. The feathers of the head and neck and hind part of the back are glossy and smooth like silk. On the whole, he is one of the finest native birds we possess. His favourite home is the moors and hills of Scotland, and his habits are well known to the sportsman, as well as to the naturalist. Early in the morning of a clear autumnal day he may be seen by the watchful observer threading his way through some romantic glen where the heather grows. He pecks off tender morsels of the young twigs with his bill, and as he goes on, meets with berries and wild fruit, none of which he despises. His crop is very large, and by degrees it becomes quite full of twigs and berries that have passed into it, and go down into the gizzard like a com- pact mass. The mill is, however, strong enough to grind it into pulp, aided by morsels of sand and gravel, which these kind of birds are in the habit of 176 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. swallowing. So, in fact, the black grouse, like many of the family, goes -through a process that very much resembles chewing the cud. He does not wander far from his native haunts, and the least noise alarms him. If a footstep approaches, he iiies off to some secret spot, and lies hidden THE BLACK-COCK until the danger is past. He is found in many parts of England, as well as of Scotland. Like his splendid relative the capercailzie, he has been driven from one spot to another by the progress of men and cities and cultivation. But there are some few spots remaining in which he dwells. Among the many- plantations in Northumberland, in the New Forest, Hampshire, and on the 1 THE LYRE-BIRD. m heathery hills in Somersetshire, and the romantic glens of North Wales, he is still to be seen. But nowhere is he so abundant as in the north of Scotland, where grouse shooting has become a yearly custom with the sportsman. The nest of the hen bird is in the shelter of some low bush or among the grass. It is made of withered grass, and sometimes of twigs ; and the eggs are of an oval shape, spotted and dotted with brownish red. The bird places her nest in such a low situation, that in very wet seasons it is apt to be filled with water. The hen performs the duty of rearing the young without any assist- ance from her mate. THE LYRE-BIRD. In the beginning of the present century, a party of rather turbulent Irishmen were sent on a voyage of discovery to the interior of New South Wales. The governor hardly knew what to do with them, and he thought the hardships of travelling in an unknown country would cure their restlessness. When they returned, they brought with them a bird which they called a pheasant. Its size was that of a common hen, of a reddish black colour, and with strong black legs. It had a crest on its head, but its tail was the most extraordinary part of it. It spread out in the shape of a lyre, and was composed of several feathers of a light brown colour, inclining to orange, and shading into silver. The end of each feather was black. The feathers were, as you see in the picture, of a different texture, alternately thin and thick. In the mother bird the tail has not the lyre shape, and is more like that ■of the peacock. Nor has she the crest of her mate. Nothing can exceed the beauty of this extraordinary bird, and it is of all others the most shy. The tail has not the dazzling splendour of the peacock, but it surpasses it in beauty of shape. There are, as you see, two large curved feathers, of black and brown striped, that curve into the form of a lyre, and between them are a number of finer and gauze-like feathers that fill up the space and give them .a most elegant appearance. Nothing so striking or graceful had been ever imagined, and yet it had been hidden in the wild bushes of Australia from time immemorial. Of all the birds the lyre-bird is the most difficult to catch sight of, much 178 STOHIES ABOUT BIRDS. less to procure. Its large strong feet are made for running, and it is constantly going up and down among the brushwood, from the top of the mountains to the steep and stony gullies below. It carries its tail erect, so that it can come to no danger. It has a loud cry, which may be heard a long way off, and another note, which may be called a song, but which cannot be heard unless you are close by. The naturalist goes through unheard-of toils to catch sight of the birds. He lies hidden among the brushwood, and hears their loud shrill notes, for days together, without being able to obtain a glimpse of them. Quite deter- mined to do so, he does not give up his point, but climbs along the gullies and ravines, where he has to cling to trees and creeping plants to keep himself from falling. These are the spots where the birds often resort; but if so much as a branch cracks, or a stone rolls over, they take the alarm and are gone. Even when the hunter has come up with one of them, he has to crawl among the branches of the trees and remain perfectly motionless. If the bird is not singing, or engaged in scratching for food, it is almost sure to perceive him if he stirs either hand or foot, and it vanishes as if by magic. It runs with the utmost rapidity, aided by its wings, over rocks or logs of wood, or whatever comes in its way. It does not often fly into a tree, except to roost. It scratches about the ground and the roots of trees to pick up seeds and insects. Its nest is very large, and a little like that of the magpie. There are twelve or sixteen eggs in the nest, of a white colour, with a few light blue spots. The young birds scamper about with the utmost rapidity, and hide themselves amongst the rocks and bushes. In some places, where roads have been cut through the bush, the bird is more frequently seen, and a man on horseback can approach it more easily than when on foot. It seems less afraid of the horse than of the man. Sometimes it is pursued by dogs, that are taught to rush suddenly upon it when it leaps down from its roosting-place in the tree. And some- times the hunter wears one of the beautiful lyre-like tails in his hat, and keeps it moving about while he hides in the bushes. The bird is taken by surprise at what he supposes to be one of his own species, and comes within reach of the gun. Another way is to whistle, or make some unusual sound, upon which the bird will come forth out of curiosity, and allow himself to be seen ; but unless THE LYRE-BIRD. STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. the gun is fired in a moment, he is half way down the valley. Indeed, shoot- ing the lyre-bird is totally different to any other kind of sport, and the most clever sportsman could do nothing unless he understood the nature of the country and the habits of the bird. The native is by far the most expert hunter of any. He likes to deck his hair with the plumage of the lyre-bird, and to glide noiselessly among the bushes with a gun in his hand. So cautious is he, and so silent, that he can always approach nearer to it than any one else, and rarely suffers it to escape. Besides its running powers, the bird can take very wonderful leaps. At one leap it can rise ten feet from the ground. Its habits are solitary ; but two lyre-birds have been seen at play, chasing each other round and round, and carrying their elegant tails in an upright position. It has also the habit of making a round hillock, on which it comes every day and erects its tail, and tramples the ground, and utters all its notes — sometimes mocking those of other birds, and even making a howling noise like that of the dingo, or native dog. Besides its loud full call, which may be heard echoing to a great distance, it can sing the little song we have mentioned. The strain is otten broken off suddenly, and then resumed again. The nests are sometimes placed on the ledge of some projecting rock, or on the stump of a tree, but alv/ays near the ground. One of the nests which was seen by a naturalist was deep, and shaped like a bason, and lined with the bark of trees and fibrous roots. THE PHEASANT. The pheasant family contains large and handsome birds, with beautiful plumage, and white tender flesh, that is much sought after as a delicacy. The male birds wear by far the most gorgeous array, and sometimes shine in plumage of gold and silver. But it is a curious fact that the hen bird, when she is getting old, will often assume the beautiful colours and gay plumage of ner mate, and become a sort of natural curiosity. Next to the peacock, the pheasant carries away the palm in beauty, SOLON AND CRCESUS. both for the lovely colour of his plumes, and the happy manner in which they are blended. There is an old story told about a famous king of Lydia, named Crcesus, who was said to be the richest monarch in the world. He was one day seated on his throne, I'n his royal robes, and in all his magnificence, and asked Solon, the Greek philosopher, if he had ever seen anything so fine. It was rather a foolish question. And Solon replied, that having seen the beautiful plumage of the pheasant, he could not be surprised by any other grandeur that might be displayed before him. STOJUES ABOUT BIRDS. Indeed, the attire of the pheasant is rich and rare. The eyes are sur- rounded with scarlet, sprinkled with tiny black dots. On the front of the head there are dark coloured feathers, mixed with a shining purple, and the top of the head and the upper parts of the neck are tinged with a dark green ^VN THE BLACK PHEASANT. that shines like silk. Sometimes the top of the head is of a shining blue, and looks blue or green according to the light in which it is seen. The feathers of the breast and shoulders, and the sides, have a tinge of exquisite purple, with a streak of gold. The tail is long, and, in the silver pheasant, is of a silver white. THE PHEASANT FAMILY. 183 The pheasant, thus grandly attired, is no less admired when served up at the table. His flesh is so delicate that its delicacy once became a proverb, and when a doctor in those days wished to recommend an article of diet, he used to say it was as nice and as wholesome as the flesh of the pheasant. \ j^^...^ THE COMMON PHEASANT. There are many varieties of the pheasant, such as the spotted pheasants of China, and the gold and silver pheasants, also brought from that country. The spotted pheasant is related to the gold and silver species. It is the most magnificent of the whole tribe, and lives in the dense forests of Java and Sumatra. Its wings consist of very large feathers, nearly three feet long, the outer part of which is adorned with rows of great spots like eyes. It is called Argus, after the imaginary Argus with his hundred eyes. i84 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. The daily life of the pheasant is very much like that of the grouse. He loves the thick plantation or the tangled wood, and during the summer and autumn has the habit of sleeping on the ground, though in the winter a tree is chosen on which to roost. CHINESE PHEASANTS. Early in the morning he visits the open fields, and searches for the tender shoots of the grass and of many of the meadow plants, and will pick up worms and insects. Later in the season, acorns, and beech nuts, and wild berries form articles of diet. But during a severe winter the birds require to be fed, or they would suffer from hunger. Then they become very tame, and come when they are called. THE OSTRICH. 185 The pheasant walks about like our familiar cock and hen, and has very- much the same habits. Though he can ascend a tree, yet, like them, he lives upon the ground, and runs very fast. When he is alarmed he runs off tO' the nearest place of shelter, or even uses his wings. In this case he flies heavily, like our common fowl. The mother bird takes very little trouble about her nest, and merely has- a slight hollow in the ground, on which she places a few leaves. Very often she declines to take any trouble about her eggs, and then a hen has to be fetched, and acts the part of a foster-mother. THE OSTRICH. In the barren wastes of Africa, and also of Asia, the traveller, as he journeys, wearily onward, meeting with but stunted herbage and no water, sees from afar something that alarms him. It looks like a body of horsemen scouring the desert, and, as he fears, bent on plunder. There is no way of escape, and as he looks hither and thither the dreaded object approaches. Then his heart beats more freely, and his spirits revive. The band of horsemen, as he supposed it to be, turns out to be birds. And he is not the first traveller by any means who has made the mistake, and imagined the ostrich to be a man on horseback. In the first place, the ostrich is quite as tall, and as he runs swiftly along there is nothing at a distance that he more resembles. He always feeds in a flock, and the barren wastes have been his home from time immemorial. He eats grassj and grain when he can get it, and does not seem to care for water. There are people who have said that the ostrich never drinks. However that may be, his appetite is the most curious part of him. He will swallow almost anything he can pick up, and you might wonder where he did pick up the things that have been found in his stomach, were it not for the caravans that now and then come across the desert. Pieces of leather, nails, lumps of brass or iron, to say nothing of stones, all go down his throat with ease. i86 STOETES ABOUT BIRDS. He has a huge crop, and then a great strong gizzard. And besides these, he has a cavity that might be called a third stomach. So he is well provided. Of course, strong as his digestion may be, he cannot digest either nails or stones ; and some people explain this by saying that his great crop wants so much to fill it, that he is obliged to put in all he can get. And others say that the stones and brass and leather help him to digest his other food, in the same way that grit or gravel helps our poultry at home. The next curious thing about the ostrich is the pair of wings that Nature has given him. The wing is Nature's machine by which the bird can support itself in the air, and dart or sail through it, as we may see every day. But in some birds the wing fails of this purpose ; nay, is of no use at all to fly with. There are two reasons why the wings of the ostrich cannot bear him into the air. They are very small to begin with, and his great body is too heavy to be raised by any such means. And besides this, the feathers of the wings are different to those of other birds. Look how firm and compact is the wing of the swallow or the rook. The feathers fit close together, and the little plumes on each feather hook into each •other by those exquisite little catches that are among the marvels of Nature. If you pass your finger over the wing it feels like one smooth surface. But in the wing of the ostrich the little plumes are loose, and float lightly about. The ostrich does not use his wings to fly with, though he spreads them out as he runs. He is in many respects so like an animal, that he forms almost a link between the animals and the birds. Indeed, he is so like the camel that he is called the camel-bird. His foot resembles the hoof of the camel. It has only two toes, and both point forward ; and the first is longer than the second, and ends in a thick hoof-like claw. And the habits of the ostrich resemble those of the camel ; they both live in the sandy desert, and are able to go a very long time without drinking. The ostrich does not make any nest, but merely scoops out a hole in the sand. When the proper season comes, the mother ostrich begins to lay her eggs ; she lays about a dozen, and they are very large, and of a dirty white colour. In the day-time she leaves them under the burning rays of the sun : but when night comes, and the air is cooler, she broods over them. The natives of the country go out looking for the eggs of the ostrich. One monster egg has in it as much as thirty of our hen's eggs, and is con- THE OSTRICH, i88 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. sidered a great dainty. But they are very careful how they set about tlie task of robbing the nest. They choose the time when the mother ostrich is away, and then they take a long stick and push the eggs out of the hole, ll they touched any of them with their fingers, the ostrich would find it out in a minute, and go into a great rage. She would break all the eggs that were left with her hoof-like feet, and never lay in that place again. Sometimes a number of mother ostriches will lay their eggs in the same nest. The flesh of such a great bird as the ostrich is, as you may think, not verj' tender. It was considered unclean by the Jews, and the Arabs, for the same reason, will not touch it. But when Rome was at the height of her luxury, people hardly knew what fresh dishes to invent, and a dish of ostriches' brains was as great a luxury, and more difficult to get, than peacocks' tongues. A gluttonous and cruel emperor had as many as six hundred ostriches killed to make one dish ! And we are told of another emperor a story that we can hardly believe. It is said that he ate a whole ostrich — cooked, we may be sure, in a very delicate manner — at one meal ! In some parts of Africa there are tribes of men who are glad to eat the ostriches, not from gluttony, but because they can get very little else. They keep them as we do cattle, and make them quite tame. The ostrich is by nature gentle, though it is so large, and soon makes himself contented near the dwelling of his master. Sometimes his master rides upon him, and takes a journey, not on his camel, but on his ostrich. A traveller was once staying in a village where there were two tame ostriches. Two little boys used to mount on the back of one of them and have a ride. The ostrich would run round and round the village, and never seemed inclined to stop. At first his pace was a trot, but, by degrees, he expanded his wings and ran very fast indeed, scarcely seeming to touch the ground. No race-horse in England could have kept up with him, though the ostrich would have got tired very much the soonest. The beautiful feathers of the ostrich are so admired, that great pains and trouble are taken to procure them. The Arab comes with his swift horse in search of the ostriches. A flock of them are quietly feeding together on the plain. If it is mid-day, they strut about, fanning their wings as if for coolness. When they perceive the enemy they begin to run, at first gently, for THE OSTRICH IN FLIGHT. he keeps at a distance, and does not wish to alarm them more than he can help OSTRICH HUNT. The wines of the bird keep working like two sails, and he gets over the .rould soTs'tthat he would soon be out of sight if he ran n. a straight Ime. But he is so foolish as to keep running from one side to the other. The hunter, meanwhile, rides straight on, and when his horse is knocked up, another hunter takes up the game, and so on, allowing the poor bird no rest. Sometimes, in a fit of despair, he hides his head in the sand. And ostriches have even been seen to swim, a fact not generally known. THE AMERICAN OSTRICH. One more thing we might tell you before we bid good-bye to the ostrich. If he chances to live near a cultivated spot, he is not a very pleasant neighbour. He will go striding on his long legs into the fields of grain, and pick it all out, leaving nothing but the bare stalk. The farmer is very much enraged, and goes out with his gun, to see if he can get a shot at him. But the ostrich is very cunning. He bends down his neck as he eats so that he cannot be seen, and generally contrives to get away in safety. THE EMU. '91 THE EMU. The ostrich has a very near relation, called the emu, that lives in New South Wales. He is larger than the ostrich, and has three toes instead of two. But the toes, as in the ostrich, all point forward. He may be said to have no wings at all, for unless they are lifted up no one can see them, and they look more like rough hair than plumage. The colour is a dull brown, mottled with a dirty grey. On the head and neck the feathers are still more like hairs, and are so thinly scattered on the throat and ears that the purple hue of the skin is clearly seen. And there is a parting down the back where the feathers divide and fall on either side. There are many of these curious birds in New Holland, and they are hunted in the same manner as the kangaroo, by men and dogs. We should tell you that the dogs, as a rule, very much dislike meddling with the emu, and have to be trained before they are of any use. In some places they are taught to go into the woods and look out for the game, and to coine back to their master's dwelling, and make known to him the spot where the emu or the kangaroo is to be found. Then the hunters follow them. The native thinks more of the flesh of the emu than he does of the kangaroo, and he gets very much excited, and he and his companions set up shout after shout, that echoes far and wide. The emu runs very fast indeed, and the swiftest dogs have great difficulty in overtaking him. When he is overtaken, he stands, like a stag, at bay, and often kicks out his foot, and so wounds the dogs. But the well-trained dog is taught to spring at the emu's neck, and keep out of the way of his foot. But when the hunt has been successful, and the bird has been killed, the banquet that follows is a very select one. Only a favoured few are allowed to partake, and the young men are not permitted to touch it ; if they do, they are severely punished. The flesh is said by a traveller to be very delicious, and something between that of a turkey and a sucking-pig. But, at the time he partook ol it, he and his companions were in a state of famine, which might account for his liking it so well. The English settlers say it is a little like beef, both to look at and to- ig2 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. taste, and that the flesh of the young ones is very tender and delicate. The hinder quarters are the only parts that are eaten, and they are such a weight rt is no easy matter for a man to carry them home on his shoulders. The ■ecro-s are about the size of those of the ostrich, and at the proper season the THE BUSTARD. ^93 natives almost live upon them. They are of a beautiful dark green colour, with a rough surface like the coarse rind of an orange, and are laid in a hole like those of the ostrich. The emus wander about in flocks, and are not very shy. A party of travellers once met with a flock. There were as many as thirty-nine together. They came to stare at the travellers' horses, and were so much interested in looking at them that they did not seem to notice the riders. The emu has a hollow drumming sort of note. THE BUSTARD. There is a bird, nov/ very rarely seen in England, that belongs to the same family as the ostrich and the emu. It may be said to be the representative of them in our own country. The bird we speak of is called the bustard. Like the ostrich, it has no hind toe, and the legs are long and strong. Its plumage is full and compact, and the wings of moderate length and breadth. They are not useless to the bird, like those of the ostrich, but it can only rise very slowly from the ground, and takes some time before it can gather air enough to leave the ground. The bustard is much larger than the turkey, and its flesh is so delicate that it would be eagerly sought after were it at all plentiful. But it is a bird that loves the open plain, where it can see all round ; and while there were such places left in England, it lived in flocks. But now that the country is covered with meadows and corn-fields, there are no retreats left for the bustard. It is very rarely seen, except on wild and solitary commons, such as Salisbury Plain, or the heaths of Sussex and Cambridgeshire, or even in the wild districts of Scotland. The flat plains of Norfolk, called "the bustard country," form an excellent home for the bustard, and about fifty years ago it used to be abundant there. And about the city of Norwich an attempt was made to keep bustards in a domestic state like the famous Norfolk turkeys. Their flesh was so delicious, and so much sought after, that it was wished to increase the 194 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. GREAT BUSTARDS. numbers. By good care and feeding, the farmer's wife hoped the birds would lay eggs, and rear the broods, but this was not the case. For the last half century scarce a bustard has been seen, and every time such has been the case, the fact has been recorded with interest THE BUSTARD. 195 One large bird was taken on Newmarket Heath, and sold in London for five guineas. A gentleman, who was a great sportsman, once declared that he saw