An history of the earth: and animated nature: by Oliver Goldsmith. In eight volumes. ... [pt.5]

PART IV. OF BIRDS OF THE SPARROW KIND.

CHAP. I. Of Birds of the Sparrow Kind in General.

STILL descending from the larger to the smaller, we come to birds of the sparrow kind; or that class of beautiful little animals that, being less than the pigeon, go on diminishing till we arrive at the humming-bird, the smallest of the feathered creation.

The birds which compose this class, chiefly live in the neighbourhood of man, and are his greatest favourites. The falcon may be more esteemed, and the turkey more useful; but these he considers as servants, not as friends; as animals reclaimed merely to supply him with some of the conveniences of life: but these little painted songsters have his affections, as well from their beauty as their melody; it is this delightful class that fill his groves with harmony, and lift his heart to sympathize with their rap∣tures. All the other classes are either mute or screaming; it is this diminutive tribe only that have voices equal to the beauty of their figures; equally adapted to rejoice man, and delight each other.

As they are the favourites of man, so they are chiefly seen near him. All the great birds dread his vicinity, and keep to the thickest darkness of the forest, or the brow of the most craggy precipice: but these seldom resort to the thicker parts of the wood; they keep near its edges, in the neighbourhood of cultivated fields; in the hedge-rows of farm-grounds; and even in the yard, mixing with the poultry.

It must be owned, indeed, that their living near man is not a society of affection on their part, as they approach inhabited grounds merely because their chief provision is to be found there. In the depth of the desart, or the gloom of the forest, there is no grain to be picked up; none of these tender buds that are so grateful to their appetites; insects, them∣selves, that make so great a part of their food, are not found there in abundance; their natures being unsuited to the moisture of the place. As we enter, therefore, deeper into uncultivated woods, the silence becomes more profound; every thing carries the look of awful stillness; there are none of those warblings, none of those murmurs that awaken attention, as near the habitations of men; there is nothing of that confused buzz, formed by the united though

distant voices of quadrupedes and birds; but all is profoundly dead and solemn. Now and then, indeed, the traveller may be rouzed from this lethargy of life, by the voice of an heron, or the scream of an eagle; but his sweet little friends and warblers have totally forsaken him.

There is still another reason for these little birds avoiding the depths of the forest; which is, that their most formidable enemies usually reside there. The greater birds, like robbers, chuse the most dreary solitudes for their re∣treats; and, if they do not find they make a desart all around them. The small-birds fly from their tyranny, and take protection in the vicinity of man, where they know their more unmerciful foes will not venture to pursue them.

All birds, even those of passage, seem con∣tent with a certain district to provide food and center in. The red-breast or the wren seldom leaves the field where it has been brought up, or where its young have been excluded; even though hunted it flies along the hedge, and seems fond of the place with an imprudent per∣severance. The fact is, all these small birds mark out a territory to themselves, which they will permit none of their own species to remain in; they guard their dominions with the most

watchful resentment; and we seldom find two male tenants in the same hedge together.

Thus, though fitted by nature for the most wandering life, these little animals do not make such distant excursions, during the season of their stay, as the stag or the leveret. Food seems to be the only object that puts them in motion, and when that is provided for them in sufficient plenty they never wander. But as that is seldom permanent through the year, almost every bird is then obliged to change its abode. Some are called birds of passage, be∣cause they are obliged to take long journeys for this purpose; but, strictly speaking, almost every other kind are birds of passage, though their migration may not be to places so re∣mote. At some particular season of the year, all small birds migrate either from one county to another, or from the more inland provinces towards the shore.

There are several persons who get a livelihood by watching the seasons when our small birds begin to migrate from one county to another, and by taking them with nets in their passage. The birds are found to fly, as the bird-catchers term it, chiefly during the month of October, and part of September and November. There is also another flight in March, which is much less considerable than that in autumn.

Nor is it less remarkable, that several of these species of flight-birds make their appearance in regular succession. The pippit, for instance, begins its flight every year about Michaelmas, when they are caught in greatest number. To this the wood-lark succeeds, and continues its flight till towards the middle of October; other birds follow, but are not so punctually perio∣dical; the green-finch does not begin till the frost obliges it to seek for a change. These birds, during those months, fly from day-break till twelve at noon; and there is afterwards a small flight from two till night. Such are the seasons of the migration of the birds, which have been usually considered as stationary, and on these occasions they are caught in great abun∣dance, as they are on their journey. But the same arts used to allure them upon other occa∣sions would be utterly fruitless, as they avoid the nets with the most prudent circumspection. The autumnal flight probably consists of the parents conducting their new-fledged young to those places where there is sufficient provision, and a proper temperament of the air during the winter season; and their return in spring is ob∣viously from an attachment to the place which was found so convenient before for the purposes of nestling and incubation.

Autumn is the principal season when the bird-catcher employs his art to catch these wan∣derers. His nets are a most ingenious piece of mechanism, being generally twelve yards and a half long, and two yards and a half wide, and so contrived as from a flat position to rise on each side, and clap over the birds that are de∣coyed to come between them. The birds in their passage are always observed to fly against the wind; hence there is a great contention among the bird-catchers which shall gain the wind; for example, if it is westerly, the bird-catcher who lays his nets most to the east, is sure of the most plentiful sport if his call-birds are good. For this purpose, he generally car∣ries five or six linnets, two gold-finches, two green-finches, one wood-lark, one red-poll, and perhaps a bull-finch, a yellow-hammer, a tit-lark, and an aberdavine: these are placed at small distances from the nets in little cages. He has besides what he calls his flur-birds, which are placed upon a moveable perch, which the bird-catcher can raise at pleasure by means of a string; and these he always lifts gently up and down as the wild bird approaches. But this is not enough to allure the wild bird down; it must be called by one of the call-birds in the cages; and these, by being made to moult pre∣maturely

in a warm cage, call louder and better than those that are wild and at freedom. There even appears a malicious joy in these call-birds to bring the wild ones into the same state of captivity, while at the same time their call is louder and their plumage brighter than in a state of nature. Nor is their sight or hearing less exquisite, far exceeding that of the bird-catcher; for the instant the wild birds are per∣ceived, notice is given by one to the rest of the call-birds, who all unite in the same tumultuous ecstacy of pleasure. The call-birds do not sing upon these occasions as a bird does in a chamber, but incite the wild ones by short jerks, which, when the birds are good, may be heard at a great distance. The allurement of this call is so great, that the wild bird hearing it is stopped in its most rapid flight; and, if not already ac∣quainted with the nets, lights boldly within twenty yards perhaps of the bird-catcher, and on a spot which it would otherwise have quite disregarded. This is the opportunity wished for, and the bird-catcher pulling a string, the nets on each side rise in an instant, and clap di∣rectly down on the poor little unsuspecting vi∣sitant. Nay, it frequently happens that if half a flock only are caught, the remaining half will immediately afterwards light between the nets,

and share the fate of their companions. Should only one bird escape, this unhappy survivor will also venture into danger till it is caught; such a fascinating power have the call-birds.

Indeed, it is not easy to account for the nature of this call, whether it be a challenge to combat, an invitation to food, or a prelude to courtship. As the call-birds are all males, and as the wild birds that attend to their voice are most frequently males also, it does not seem that love can have any influence in their assiduity. Perhaps the wild females, in these flights, attend to and obey the call below, and their male companions of the flight come down to bear them company. If this be the case, and that the females have unfaithfully led their mates into the nets, they are the first that are punished for their infidelity; the males are only made captives for singing; while the females are indiscriminately killed, and sold to be served up to the tables of the delicate.

Whatever be the motives that thus arrest a flock of birds in their flight, whether they be of gallantry or of war, it is certain that the small birds are equally remarkable for both. It is, perhaps, the genial desire that in∣spires the courage of most animals; and that being greatest in the males, gives them a

greater degree of valour than the females. Small birds, being extremely amorous, are re∣markably brave. However contemptible these little warriors are to larger creatures, they are often but too formidable to each other; and sometimes fight till one of them yields up his life with the vlctory. But their contentions are sometimes of a gentler nature. Two male birds shall strive in song till, after a long struggle, the loudest shall entirely silence the other. During these contentions, the female sits an attentive silent auditor, and often re∣wards the loudest songster with her company during the season.

Singing among birds is almost universally the prerogative of the male. With them it is the reverse of what occurs in the human kind. Among the feathered tribe, the heaviest cares of life fall to the lot of the female. Hers is the fatigue of incubation, and to her devolves the principal fatigue of nursing the helpless brood. To alleviate these fatigues, and to support her under them, Nature has given the song to the male. This serves as a note of blandishment at first to attract her affections; it serves as a note to delight her during the time of her incubation; but it serves still farther as a note of security, to assure her that no danger threatens

to molest her. The male, while his mate is hatching, sits upon some neighbouring tree, continuing at once to watch and to sing. While his voice is heard, the female rests in confident security; and, as the poet expresses it, appears

most blessed when most unseen:

But if any appearance of danger offers to intrude, the male, that a moment before was so loud and sportive, stops all of a sudden; and this is a most certain signal to his mate to provide for her own security.

The nest of little birds seems to be of a more delicate contrivance than that of the larger kinds. As the volume of their bodies is smaller, the materials of which their nests are composed are generally warmer. It is easy to conceive that small things keep heat a shorter time than those that are large. The eggs, therefore, of small birds require a place of more constant warmth than those of great ones, as being liable to cool more quickly; and accordingly their nests are built warmer and deeper, lined on the inside with softer substances, and guarded above with a better covering. But it sometimes happens that the little archi∣tects are disturbed in their operations, and then they are obliged to make a nest; not such as they wish, but such as they can. The bird,

whose nest has been robbed several times, builds up her last in a very slovenly manner, conscious that, from the near approach of winter, she must not take time to give her habitation every possible advantage it is capable of receiving. When the nest is finished, nothing can exceed the cunning which the male and female em∣ploy to conceal it. If it is built in bushes, the pliant branches are so disposed as to hide it entirely from the view; if it be built among moss, nothing outwardly appears to shew that there is an habitation within. It is always built near those places where food is found in greatest abundance; and they take care never to go in or out while there is any one in sight. The greater birds continue from their nest for some time, as their eggs take no damage in their absence; but the little birds are assiduous while they sit, and the nest is always occupied by the male when the female is obliged to seek for sustenance.

The first food of all birds of the sparrow kind is worms and insects. Even the sparrow and the gold-finch, that when adult feed only upon grain, have both been fed upon insects while in the nest. The young ones, for some time after their exclusion from the shell, require no food; but the parent soon finds by their chirping

and gaping that they begin to feel the ap∣proaches of hunger, and flies to provide them a plentiful supply. In her absence, they con∣tinue to lie close together, and cherish each other by their mutual warmth. During this interval also, they preserve a perfect silence, uttering not the slightest note till the parent returns. Her arrival is always announced by a chirrup, which they perfectly understand, and which they answer all together, each petitioning for its portion. The parent distributes a supply to each by turns, cautiously avoiding to gorge them, but to give them often though little at a time. The wren will in this manner feed seventeen or eighteen young ones, without pas∣sing over one of them.

Such is the manner in which these birds bring forth and hatch their young; but it yet remains to usher them from the nest into life, and this they very assiduously perform. When they are fully fledged, and fitted for short flights, the old ones, if the weather be fair, lead them a few yards from the nest, and then compel them to return. For two or three succeeding days they are led out in the same manner, but each day to seek more distant adventures. When it is per∣ceived that they can fly, and shift for themselves, then the parents forsake them for ever, and

pay them no more attention than they do to other birds in the same flock. Indeed, it would seem among these little animals that, from the moment their young are set out, all future con∣nexion ceases between the male and female; they go separate ways, each to provide for itself, during the rigours of winter; and, at the approach of spring, each seeks for a new asso∣ciate.

In general, birds, when they come to pair in spring, associate with those of their own age and place of abode. Their strength or courage is generally in proportion to their age; the oldest females first feel the accesses of desire, and the oldest males are the boldest to drive off all younger pretenders. Those next in courage and desire, become pretenders, till they are al∣most all provided in turn. The youngest come last; as, in fact, they are the latest in their inclinations. But still there are several, both males and females, that remain unprovided for; either not happening to meet with each other, or at least not during the genial interval. Whether these mix with small birds of a dif∣ferent species, is a doubt which naturalists have not been able thoroughly to resolve. Addison, in some beautiful Latin lines, inserted in the Spectator, is entirely of opinion that birds

observe a strict chastity of manners, and never admit the caresses of a different tribe.

Chaste are their instincts, faithful is their fire, No foreign beauty tempts to false desire: The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown, The simple plumage, or the glossy down, Prompt not their love. The patriot bird pursues His well acquainted tints, and kindred hues. Hence through their tribes no mix'd polluted flame, No monster breed to mark the groves with shame: But the chaste blackbird, to its partner true, Thinks black alone is beauty's favourite hue: The nightingale, with mutual passion blest, Sings to its mate, and nightly charms the nest: While the dark owl, to court his partner flies, And owns his offspring in their yellow eyes.

But whatever may be the poet's opinion, the probability is against this fidelity among the smaller tenants of the grove. The great birds are much more true to their species than these; and, of consequence, the varieties among them are more few. Of the ostrich, the cassowary, and the eagle, there are but few species; and no arts that man can use, could probably induce them to mix with each other.

But it is otherwise with the small birds we are describing; it requires very little trouble to make a species between a goldfinch and

a canary-bird, between a linnet and a lark. They breed frequently together; and produce a race not, like the mules among quadru∣pedes, incapable of breeding again; for this motley mixture are as fruitful as their pa∣rents. What is so easily done by art, very probably often happens in a state of nature; and when the male cannot find a mate of his own species, he flies to one of another, that, like him, has been left out in pairing. This some historians think may have given rise to the great variety of small birds that are seen among us; some uncommon mixture might first have formed a new species, and this might have been continued down, by birds of this species chu∣sing to breed together.

Whether the great variety of our small birds may have arisen from this source, cannot now be ascertained; but certain it is, that they re∣semble each other very strongly, not only in their form and plumage, but also in their ap∣petites and manner of living. The goldfinch, the linnet, and the yellow-hammer, though obviously of different species, yet lead a very similar life; being equally an active, lively, salacious tribe, that subsist by petty thefts upon the labours of mankind, and repay them with a song. Their nests bear a similitude; and

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they are all about the same time in hatching their young, which is usually fifteen days. Were I therefore to describe the manners of these with the same minuteness that I have done the greater birds, I should only present the reader with a repetition of the same accounts; animated neither by novelty nor information. Instead, therefore, of specifying each sort, I will throw them into groupes; uniting those together that practise the same manners, or that are remarkable for similar qualifications.

Willaughby has divided all the smaller birds into those that have slender bills, and those that have short and thick bills. Those with slender bills, chiefly live upon insects; those with short, strong bills, live mostly upon fruits and grain. Among slender billed birds, he enumerates the thrush, the blackbird, the fieldfare, the starling, the lark, the titmouse, the water-wagtail, the nightingale, the red-start, the robin red-breast, the beccafigo, the stone-chatter, the whinchat, the goldfinch, the white-throat, the hedge-sparrow, the pettichaps, the golden crowned wren, the wren, the humming-bird, and several other small birds of the sparrow kind, unknown in this part of the world.

All these, as was said, live for the most part

upon insects; and are consequently of particular benefit to man. By these are his grounds cleared of the pernicious swarms of vermin that devour the budding leaves and flowers; and that even attack the root itself, before ever the vegetable can come to maturity. These seek for and destroy the eggs of insects that would otherwise propagate in numbers beyond the arts of man to extirpate: they know better than man where to seek for them; and thus at once satisfy their own appetites, and render him the most essential services.

But this is not the only merit of this tribe•• in it we have the sweetest songsters of the grove; their notes are softer, and their manner more musically soothing than those of hard billed birds. The foremost in musical fame are, the nightingale, the thrush, the blackbird, the lark, the red-breast, the black-cap, and the wren.

Birds of the sparrow kind, with thick and short bills, are the grossbeak, the greenfinch, the bullfinch, the crossbill, the house-sparrow, the chaffinch, the brambling, the goldfinch, the linnet, the siskin, the bunting, the yellow-hammer, the ortolan, the wheat-ear, and several other foreign birds, of which we know rathe•• the names than the history. These chiefly feed upon fruits, grain, and corn. They are often

troublesome to man, as they are a numerous tribe: the harvest often suffers from their de∣predations; and while they are driven off from one end of the field, they fly round, and come in at the other. But these also have their uses: they are frequently the distributors of seeds into different districts: those grains which they swallow, are sometimes, not wholly digested; and these, laid upon a soil congenial to them, embellish the face of nature with that agreeable variety which art but vainly attempts to imitate. The misletoe plant, which we often see growing on the tops of elm and other trees, has been thought to be propagated in this manner; yet, as it is often seen growing on the under side of the branch, and sometimes on a perpendicular shoot, it seems extraordinary how a seed could be deposited in that situation. However this be, there are many plants propagated from the depositions of birds; and some seeds are thought to thrive the better, for first having undergone a kind of maceration in the stomach of the little animal, before it is voided on the ground.

There are some agreeable songsters in this tribe also; and those who like a loud piercing pipe, endued with great variety and perse∣verance, will be pleased most with their singing. The songsters of this class are the canary-bird,

the linnet, the chaffinch, the goldfinch, the greenfinch, the bullfinch, the brambling, the siskin, and the yellow-hammer. The note of these is not so generally pleasing as that of the soft billed bird, but it usually holds longer; and, in a cage, these birds are more easily fed, and hardy.

This class of small birds, like all the greater, has its wanderers, that leave us for a season, and then return, to propagate, to sing, or to embellish the landscape here. Some of this smaller kind, indeed, are called birds of passage, that do not properly come under the denomination; for though they disappear in one place, they never leave the kingdom, but are seen somewhere else. But there are many among them, that take longer flights, and go to a region colder or warmer, as it suits their constitutions. The field-fare and the red-wing breed, pass their summers in Norway, and other cold countries, and are tempted hi∣ther to our mild winters, and to those various berries which then abound with us, and make their principal food. The hawfinch and the crossbill are uncertain visitants, and have no stated times of migration. Swallows of every species disappear at the approach of winter. The nightingale, the black-cap, the fly-catcher,

the willow-wren, the wheat-ear, the whin-chat, and the stone-chatter, leave us long before the approach of winter; while the siskin and the linnet only forsake us when our winters are more than usually severe. All the rest of the smaller tribe never quit this country; but sup∣port the severest rigours of the climate.

Yet it must not be supposed that the manners of our little birds prevail in all other countries; and that such kinds as are stationary with us, never wander in other parts of Europe: on the contrary, it happens that many of those kinds which are birds of passage in England, are seen, in other places, never to depart, but to make one country their fixed residence, the whole year round. It is also frequent, that some birds, which with us are faithful residents, in other kingdoms put on the nature of birds of passage, and disappear for a season.

The swallow, that with us is particularly re∣marked for being a bird of passage, in Upper Egypt, and in the island of Java, breeds and continues the whole year, without ever disap∣pearing. Larks, that remain with us the year throughout, are birds of passage in Sweden; and forsake that climate in winter, to return again with the returning spring. The chaffinch, that with us is stationary, appears during the

winter in Carolina and Virginia; but disappears totally in summer, to breed in the more north∣ern regions. In Sweden also, these little birds are seen returning, at the approach of spring, from the warmer climates, to pro∣pagate; which being accomplished by the latter end of autumn, the males and females separate; the males to continue among their native snows, the females to seek a warmer and gentler winter. On this occasion, they are seen in flocks, that darken all the air, without a single male among them, making their way into the more southern regions of Denmark, Germany, and Holland. In this amazon-like retreat, thousands fall by the way; some by fatigue, some by want; but the greatest num∣ber by the nets of the fowler; the taking them being one of the chief amusements among the gentry where they pass. In short, the change of country with all this little tribe, is rather a pilgrimage than a journey; a migra∣tion rather of necessity than of choice.

Having thus given a general idea of the birds of this class, it will be proper to give some account of the most remarkable among them.

CHAP. II. Of the Thrush and its Affinities.

WITH the thrush we may rank the red-wing, the field-fare, the black-bird, the ring-ouzel, and the water-ouzel.

These are the largest of the sparrow-kind, and may be distinguished from all others of this class, as well by their size, which is well known, as by their bills, which are a little bending at the point; a small notch near the end of the upper chap, and the outmost toe adhering as far as the first joint of the middle toe. To this tribe may be also added the stare or starling, which, though with a flat bill, too much resem∣bles these birds to be placed any where else.

The missel-thrush is distinguished from all of the kind by its superior size, being much larger than any of them. It differs scarcely in any other respect from the throstle, except that the spots on the breast are larger. It builds its nest in bushes, or on the side of some tree, as all of this kind are found to do, and lays four or five eggs in a season. Its song is very fine, which it begins in spring, sitting on the summit of a high tree. It is the largest bird of all the

feathered tribe that has music in its voice; the note of all greater birds being either screaming, chattering, or croaking. It feeds on insects, holly, and misletoe-berries; and sometimes sends forth a very disagreeable scream when frighted or disturbed.

The black-bird, which in cold countries, and particularly upon the Alps, is sometimes seen all over white, is a beautiful and a canorous bird, whistling all the spring and summer-time with a note at a distance the most pleasing of all the grove. It is the deepest toned warbler of the woods; but it is rather unpleasant in a cage, being loud and deafening. It lays four or five bluish eggs, in a nest usually built at the stump of some old hawthorn, well plaistered on the inside with clay, straw, and hair.

Pleasing, however, as this bird may be, the blue-bird, described by Bellonius, is in every respect far superior. This beautiful animal en∣tirely resembles a black-bird in all but its blue colour. It lives in the highest parts of the Alps, and even there chuses the most craggy rocks and the most frightful precipices for its residence. As it is rarely caught, it is in high estimation even in the countries where it breeds, but still more valuable when carried from home. It not only whistles in the most delight∣ful

manner, but speaks with an articulate di∣stinct voice. It is so docile, and observes all things with such diligence, that, though waked at midnight by any of the family, it will speak and whistle at the word of command. Its co∣lour, about the beginning of winter, from blue becomes black, which changes to its original hue on the first approaches of spring. It makes its nest in deep holes, in very high and inacces∣sible solitudes, and removes it not only from the accesses of man, but also hides it with surprizing cunning from the shammoy, and other wild beasts that might annoy its young.

The manner of taking this beautiful bird is said to be this. The fowlers, either by chance or by lying in wait, having found out the place where it builds, take with them a strong stilt or stake, such as the climbers of rocks make use of to assist them in their ascent. With the assistance of this, they mount where an indif∣ferent spectator would think it impossible to ascend, covering their heads at the same time to ward off any danger of the falling of pebbles or stones from above. At length, with extreme toil and danger, having arrived at the nest, they draw it up from the hole in which it is usually buried, and cherish the young with an assiduity equal to the pains they took to obtain them. It

produces for the most part five young, and never more; it seldom descends into the plain country; flies swifter than a black-bird, and uses the same food.

The field-fare and the red-wing make but a short stay in this country. With us they are insipid tuneless birds, flying in flocks, and ex∣cessively watchful to preserve the general safety. All their season of music and pleasure is em∣ployed in the more northern climates, where they sing most delightfully, perched among the forests of maples, with which those countries abound. They build their nests in hedges; and lay six bluish green eggs spotted with black.

The Stare, distinguishable from the rest of this tribe by the glossy green of its feathers, in some lights, and the purple in others, breeds in hol∣low trees, eaves of houses, towers, ruins, cliffs, and often in high rocks over the sea. It lays four or five eggs of a pale greenish ash-colour; and makes it nest of straw, small fibres of roots, and such like. Its voice is rougher than the rest of this kind; but what it wants in the me∣lody of its note, it compensates by the facility with which it is taught to speak. In winter these birds assemble in vast flocks, and feed upon worms and insects. At the approach of spring, they assemble in fields, as if in con∣sultation

together, and for three or four days seem to take no nourishment: the greater part leave the country; the rest breed here and bring up their young.

To this tribe might be added above an hun∣dred other birds of nearly the thrush size, and living like them upon fruit and berries. Words could not afford variety enough to describe all the beautiful tints that adorn the foreign birds of the thrush kind. The brilliant green of the emerald, the flaming red of the ruby, the purple of the amethyst, or the bright blue of the sa∣phire, could not by the most artful combi∣nation shew any thing so truely lively or de∣lightful to the sight as the feathers of the chil∣coqui or the tautotol. Passing, therefore, over these beautiful, but little known, birds, I will only mention the American mock-bird, the favourite songster of a region where the birds excel rather in the beauty of their plumage than the sweetness of their notes.

This valuable bird does not seem to vie with the feathered inhabitants of that country in the beauty of its plumage, content with qua∣lifications that endear it to mankind much more. It is but a plain bird to the eye, about the size of a thrush, of a white and grey colour, and a reddish bill. It is possessed not only of its own

natural notes, which are musical and solemn, but it can assume the tone of every other animal in the wood, from the wolf to the raven. It seems even to sport itself in leading them astray. It will at one time allure the lesser birds with the call of their males, and then terrify them when they have come near with the screams of the eagle. There is no bird in the forest but it can mimick; and there is none that it has not at times deceived by its call. But, not like such as we usually see famed for mimicking with us, and who have no particular merit of their own, the mock bird is ever surest to please when it is most itself. At those times it usually frequents the houses of the American planters; and, sitting all night on the chimney-top, pours forth the sweetest and the most various notes of any bird whatever. It would seem, if accounts be true, that the deficiency of most other song-birds in that country is made up by this bird alone. They often build their nests in the fruit-trees about houses, feed upon berries and other fruits, and are easily rendered domestic.

CHAP. III. Of the Nightingale and other soft billed Song-Birds.

THE Nightingale is not only famous among the moderns for its singing, but almost every one of the ancients who undertook to describe beautiful nature, has contributed to raise its reputation.

"The nightingale," says Pliny, "that, for fifteen days and nights hid in the thickest shades, continues her note without intermission, deserves our attention and won∣der. How surprising that so great a voice can reside in so small a body! such persever∣ance in so minute an animal! With what a musical propriety are the sounds it produces modulated! The note at one time drawn out with a long breath, now stealing off into a different cadence, now interrupted by a break, then changing into a new note by an unexpected transition, now seeming to renew the same strain, then deceiving expec∣tation! She sometimes seems to murmur within herself; full, deep, sharp, swift, drawl∣ing, trembling; now at the top, the middle, and the bottom of the scale! In short, in

that little bill seems to reside all the melody which man has vainly laboured to bring from a variety of musical instruments. Some even seem to be possessed of a different song from the rest, and contend with each other with great ardour. The bird overcome is then seen only to discontinue its song with its life."

This most famous of the feathered tribe visits England in the beginning of April, and leaves us in August. It is found but in some of the southern parts of the country, being totally un∣known in Scotland, Ireland, or North Wales. They frequent thick hedges and low coppices, and generally keep in the middle of the bush, so that they are rarely seen. They begin their song in the evening, and generally continue it for the whole night. For weeks together, if undisturbed, they sit upon the same tree; and Shakespear rightly describes the nightingale sitting nightly in the same place, which I have frequently observed she seldom parts from.

From Pliny's description, we should be led to believe this bird possessed of a persevering strain; but, though it is in fact so with the nightingale in Italy, yet in our hedges in Eng∣land, the little songstress is by no means so li∣beral of her music. Her note is soft, various, and interrupted; she seldom holds it without a

pause above the time that one can count twenty. The nightingale's pausing song would be the proper epithet for this bird's music with us, which is more pleasing than the warbling of any other bird, because it is heard at a time when all the rest are silent.

In the beginning of May, the nightingale prepares to make its nest, which is formed of the leaves of trees, straw and moss. The nest being very eagerly sought after, is as cun∣ningly secreted; so that but very few of them are found by the boys when they go upon these pursuits. It is built at the bottom of hedges, where the bushes are thickest and best covered. While the female continues sitting, the male at a good distance, but always within hearing, chears the patient hour with his voice, and, by the short interruption of his song, often gives her warning of approaching danger. She lays four or five eggs; of which but a part, in our cold climate, come to maturity.

The delicacy, or rather the fame, of this bird's music, has induced many to abridge its liberty to be secured of its song. Indeed, the greatest part of what has been written concern∣ing it in our country, consists in directions how to manage it for domestic singing; while the history of the bird is confined to dry receipts

for fitting it for the cage. Its song, however, in captivity is not so very alluring; and the tyranny of taking it from those hedges where only it is most pleasing, still more de∣preciates its imprisoned efforts. Gesner as∣sures us, that it is not only the most agreeable songster in a cage, but that it is possessed of a most admirable faculty of talking. He tells the following story in proof of his assertion, which he says was communicated to him by a friend.

"Whilst I was at Ratisbone," says his correspondent, "I put up at an inn, the sign of the Golden Crown, where my host had three nightingales. What I am going to re∣peat is wonderful, almost incredible, and yet is true. The nightingales were placed sepa∣rately, so that each was shut up by itself in a dark cage. It happened at that time, being the spring of the year, when those birds are wont to sing indefatigably, that I was so af∣flicted with the stone, that I could sleep but very little all night. It was usual then about midnight, when there was no noise in the house, but all still, to hear the two nightin∣gales jangling, and talking with each other, and plainly imitating men's discourses. For my part I was almost astonished with wonder; for at this time, when all was quiet else, they

held conference together, and repeated what∣ever they had heard among the guests by day. Those two of them that were most notable, and masters of this art, were scarce ten foot distant from one another. The third hung more remote, so that I could not so well hear it as I lay abed. But it is wonderful to tell how those two provoked each other; and by answering, invited and drew one another to speak. Yet did they not confound their words, or talk both together, but rather utter them alternately and of course. Besides, the daily discourse of the guests, they chanted out two stories, which generally held them from midnight till morning; and that with such modulations and inflections, that no man could have taken to come from such little creatures. When I asked the host if they had been taught, or whether he ob∣served their talking in the night, he an∣swered, no: the same said the whole family. But I, who could not sleep for nights to∣gether, was perfectly sensible of their dis∣course. One of their stories was concerning the tapster and his wife, who refused to follow him to the wars as he desired her; for the husband endeavoured to persuade his wife, as far as I understood by the birds, that he

would leave his service in that inn, and go to the wars in hopes of plunder. But she refused to follow him, resolving to stay either at Ratisbone, or go to Nuremberg. There was a long and earnest contention be∣tween them; and all this dialogue the birds repeated. They even repeated the unseemly words which were cast out between them, and which ought rather to have been sup∣pressed and kept a secret. But the birds, not knowing the difference between modest, immodest, honest and filthy words, did out with them. The other story was concerning the war which the emperor was then threat∣ening against the protestants; which the birds probably heard from some of the gene∣rals that had conferences in the house. These things did they repeat in the night after twelve o'clock, when there was a deep silence. But in the day-time, for the most part, they were silent, and seemed to do nothing but medi∣tate and revolve with themselves upon what the guests conferred together as they sat at table, or in their walks. I verily had never believed our Pliny writing so many wonderful things concerning these little creatures, had I not myself seen with my eyes, and heard them with my ears uttering such things as I have

related. Neither yet can I of a sudden write all or call to rememberance every particular that I have heard."

Such is the sagacity ascribed to the nightin∣gale; it is but to have high reputation for any one quality, and the world is ready enough to give us fame for others to which we have very small pretensions. But there is a little bird, ra∣ther celebrated for its affection to mankind than its singing, which however, in our climate, has the sweetest note of all others. The reader already perceives that I mean the red-breast, the well known friend of man, that is found in every hedge, and makes it vocal. The note of other birds is louder, and their inflections more capricious; but this bird's voice is soft, tender, and well supported; and the more to be valued as we enjoy it the greatest part of the winter. If the nightingale's song has been compared to the fiddle, the red-breast's voice has all the delicacy of the flute.

The red-breast, during the spring, haunts the wood, the grove, and the garden; it retires to the thickest and shadiest hedge-rows to breed in. But in winter it seems to become more domestic, and often to claim protection from man. Most of the soft billed birds, the nightingale, the swallow, and the tit-mouse,

leave us in the winter, when their insect food is no longer offered in plenty; but the red-breast continues with us the year round, and endeavours to support the famine of winter by chirping round the warm habitations of man∣kind, by coming into those shelters where the rigour of the season is artificially expelled, and where insects themselves are found in greater numbers, attracted by the same cause.

This bird breeds differently in different places: in some countries, its nest is usually found in the crevice of some mossy bank, or at the foot of an hawthorn in hedge-rows; in others, it chuses the thickest coverts, and hides its nest with oak leaves. The eggs are from four to five, of a dull white, with reddish streaks.

The lark, whether the sky lark, the wood, or the tit-lark, being all distinguishable from other little birds by the length of their heel, are louder in their song than either of the former, but not so pleasing. Indeed, the music of every bird in captivity produces no very pleas∣ing sensations; it is but the mirth of a little animal insensible of its unfortunate situation; it is the landscape, the grove, the golden break of day, the contest upon the hawthorn, the fluttering from branch to branch, the soaring in the air, and the answering of its young,

that gives the bird's song its true relish. These united, improve each other, and raise the mind to a state of the highest, yet most harmless ex∣ultation. Nothing can in this situation of mind be more pleasing than to see the lark warbling upon the wing; raising its note as it soars until it seems lost in the immense heights above us; the note continuing, the bird itself unseen; to see it then descending with a swell as it comes from the clouds, yet sinking by degrees as it approaches its nest, the spot where all its affec∣tions are centered; the spot that has prompted all this joy.

The lark builds its nest upon the ground, beneath some turf that serves to hide and shelter it. The female lays four or five eggs, of a dusky hue in colour, somewhat like those of a plover. It is while she is sitting that the male thus usually entertains her with his singing; and while he is risen to an imperceptible height, yet he still has his loved partner in his eye, nor once loses sight of the nest either while he ascends or is descending. This harmony continues se∣veral months, beginning early in the spring on pairing. In winter they assemble in flocks, when their song forsakes them, and the bird-catchers destroy them in great numbers for the tables of the luxurious.

The Black-cap and the Wren, though so very diminutive, are yet prized by some for their singing. The former is called by some the mock nightingale; and the latter is admired for the loudness of its note, compared to the little body from whence it issues. It must be confessed that this disproportion between the voice of a bird and its size, in some measure demands our wonder. Quadrupedes in this respect may be considered as mutes to them. The peacock is louder than the lion, and the rabbit is not so loud as the wren. But it must be considered that birds are very differently formed; their lungs in some measure are ex∣tended through their whole body, while in quadrupedes they lie only in the breast. In birds there are a variety of cells which take in the air, and thus pour forth their contents at the little animal's command. The black-cap and the wren, therefore, are as respectable for their voices as they might be deemed incon∣siderable for their size.

All these soft billed birds, thus prized for their singing, are rendered domestic, and brought up with assiduity by such as are fond of their voices in a cage. The same method of treat∣ment serves for all, as their food and their habits are nearly the same. The manner of taking

and treating them, particularly the nightingale, is this. A nightingale's nest may be found by observing the place where the male sings, and then by sticking two or three meal-worms (a kind of maggot found in flower on some neigh∣bouring thorn, which when he sees he will in∣fallibly bear away to his young. By listening, he then may be heard with the female chirping to the young ones while they are feeding. When the nest is found, if the young ones are not fledged enough to be taken, they must not be touched with the hands, for then the old ones will perceive it, and entice them away. They should not be taken till they are almost as full of feathers as the old ones; and, though they refuse their meat, yet, by opening their bills, you may give them two or three small bits at a time, which will make them soon grow tame, when they will feed themselves. They should be put nest and all into a little basket, which should be covered up warm; and they should be fed every two hours. Their food should be sheep's hearts, or other raw flesh meat, chopped very fine, and all the strings, skins, and fat, taken away. But it should always be mixed with hard hen's eggs, upon which they will feed and thrive abundantly.

They should then be put in cages like the

nightingale's back cage, with a little straw or dry moss at the bottom; but when they are grown large they should have ant's mold. They should be kept very clean, as indeed should all singing-birds whatsoever; for otherwise they will have the cramp, and perhaps the claws will drop off. In autumn they will sometimes abstain from their food for a fortnight, unless two or three meal-worms be given them twice or thrice a week, or two or three spiders in a day; they must likewise have a little saffron in their water. Figs chopped small among their meat will help them to recover their flesh. When their legs are cramped, they should be anointed with fresh butter, or capon's fat, three or four days together. If they grow melancholly, put white sugar-candy into their water, and feed them with sheep's-heart, giving them three or four meal-worms in a day, and a few ants with their eggs. They should also have saffron in their water.

With regard to adult birds, those that are taken before the twenty-third of April are ac∣counted the best, because after that they begin to pair. They usually haunt woods, coppices, and quickset hedges, where they may be taken in trap cages baited with meal-worms. They should be placed as near the spot where the

bird sings as possible; and before you fix the trap, turn up the earth twice the breadth of the cage, because they will there look for food. They are also taken with lime twigs, placing them upon the hedge where they usually sing; and there should be meal-worms stuck at proper places to draw them into the snare. After they are taken, their wings should be gently tied with thread, to prevent their beating themselves against the cage. This should be first hung in a private place, that the bird may not be di∣sturbed; and it should be fed every two hours, at farthest, with sheep's-heart and egg minced very fine, mixing it with meal-worms. How∣ever, the first food must be worms, ants, ca∣terpillars, and flies. You must, to feed the bird, take it in your hand, and open the bill with a stick made thick at one end, giving it the insects, or four or five bits of food as big as peas, to entice it to eat. Its common food should be mixed with ants, so that when the bird goes to pick the ants it may pick up some of that also. The nightingale, when caged, be∣gins to sing about the latter end of November, and continues its song till June.

CHAP. IV. Of the Canary-bird, and other hard billed Singing-birds.

THE Canary-bird is now become so common, and has continued so long in a domestic state, that its native habits, as well as its native country, seem almost forgotten. Though, by the name, it appears that these birds came ori∣ginally from the Canary Islands, yet we have it only from Germany, where they are bred up in great numbers, and sold into different parts of Europe. At what period they were brought into Europe is not well known; but it is cer∣tain that about a century ago they were sold at very high prices, and kept only for the amuse∣ment of the great. They have since been multiplied in great abundance; and their price is diminished in proportion to their plenty.

In its native islands, a region equally noted for the beauty of its landscapes and the harmony of its groves, the canary-bird is of a dusky grey colour, and so different from those usually seen in Europe, that some have even doubted whe∣ther it be of the same species. With us, they have that variety of colouring usual in all do∣mestic

fowls; some white, some mottled, some beautifully shaded with green; but they are more esteemed for their note than their beauty, having a high piercing pipe, as indeed all those of the finch tribe have, continuing for some time in one breath without intermission, then raising it higher and higher by degrees, with great variety.

It is this that has rendered the canary-bird next to the nightingale the most celebrated songster; and, as it is more easily reared than any of the soft billed birds, and continues its song throughout the year, it is rather the most com∣mon in our houses. Rules, therefore, have been laid down, and copious instructions given, for breeding these birds in a domestic state; which, as a part of them may conduce towards the natural history of the bird, I will take leave to transcribe.

In chusing the canary-bird, those are best that appear with life and boldness, standing upright upon the perch like a sparrow-hawk, and not apt to be frighted at every thing that stirs. If its eyes look chearful, and not drowsy, it is a sign of health; but, on the contrary, if it hides its head under the wing, and gathers its body up, these are symptoms of its being out of order. In chusing them the melody of the

song should also be minded: some will open with the notes of the nightingale, and, run∣ning through a variety of modulations, end like the tit-lark. Others will begin like the sky-lark; and, by a soft melodious turn, fall into the notes of the nightingale. These are lessons taught this bird in its domestic state, and generally taught it by others; but its na∣tive note is loud, shrill, piercing, and enough to deafen the hearers. There are persons who admire each of these songs, but the second is in the most general estimation.

Canary-birds sometimes breed all the year round; but they most usually begin to pair in April, and to breed in June and August. Those are said to be the best breeders that are produced between the English and the French.

Towards the latter end of March, a cock and a hen should be put together in a small cage, where they will peck at each other in the beginning, but will soon become thoroughly reconciled. The room where they are kept to breed should be so situated as to let the birds have the benefit of the morning sun, and the windows should be of wire, not glass, that they may enjoy the benefit of the air. The floor of the room should be kept clean, and sometimes there should be dry gravel or sand sifted upon

it. There should also be two windows, one at each end, and several perches at proper di∣stances for the birds to settle on, as they fly backwards and forwards. A tree in the middle of the room would be the most convenient to divert the birds, and sometimes to serve for building their nests upon.

In Germany they prepare a large room, and build it in the manner of a barn, being much longer than broad, with a square place at each end, and several holes to go into those square places. In those outlets they plant several sorts of trees, in which the birds take great delight to sing and breed. The bottom of the place they strew with sand, and upon it cast rape-seed, chick-weed and groundsil, which the old birds feed upon while breeding. In the body of the house they put all sorts of stuff for building the nest, and brooms, one under the other, in all the corners, for the birds to build in. These they separate by partitions from each other, to prevent those above flying down upon, or otherwise incommoding such as breed below. The light also is excluded, for no bird is fond of having light come to its nest.

With us, the apparatus for breeding is less expensive; a little breeding-cage sometimes suffices, but seldom any thing more extensive

than a small room. While the birds are pairing it is usual to feed them with soft meat; that is, bread, maw-seed, a little scalded rape-seed, and near a third part of an egg. The room should be furnished with stuff for making their nests; such as fine hay, wool, cotton, and hair. These materials should be thoroughly dry, and then mixed and tied together in such a manner that the birds may readily pull out what they want. This should be hung in a proper part of the room, and the male will take his turn in building the nest, sitting upon the eggs, and feeding the young. They are generally two or three days in building their nests; the hen commonly lays five eggs; and in the space of fourteen days the young will be excluded. So prolific are these birds sometimes that the female will be ready to hatch a second brood before the first are able to quit the nest. On these occasions, she leaves the nest and the young to provide herself with another to lay her new brood in. In the mean time, the male, more faithful to the duties of his trust, breeds up the young left behind, and fits them for a state of independance.

When the young ones are excluded, the old ones should be supplied with a sufficiency of soft food every day, with likewise fresh greens,

such as cabbage, lettuce, and chick-weed; in June, shepherd's purse; and in July and Au∣gust, plantane. They are never to have groundsil after the young are excluded. With these different delicacies, the old ones will take particular care to feed and bring up their young; but it is usual when they can feed themselves to be taken from the nest and put into cages. Their meat then is the yolk of an egg boiled hard, with an equal quantity of fine bread, and a little scalded rape-seed: this must be bruised till it becomes fine, and then it may be mixed with a little maw-seed; after which, blend all together; which is to be supplied them fresh every day.

The canary-bird, by being kept in company with the linnet or the gold-finch, pairs and produces a mixed breed, more like the canary-bird, and resembling it chiefly in its song. Indeed, all this tribe with strong bills and piercing notes, and feeding upon grain, have the most strong similitude to each other, and may justly be supposed, as Mr. Buffon ima∣gines, to come from the same original. They all breed about the same time; they frequent the same vegetables; they build in the same hedges and trees; and are brought up for the cage with the same food and precautions. The linnet, the bull-finch, and the gold-finch, when

we know the history of the canary-bird, have scarce any peculiarities that can attract our curiosity, or require our care. The only art necessary with all those that have no very fine note is to breed them up under some more pleasing harmonist. The gold-finch learns a fine song from the nightingale; and the linnet and bull-finch may be taught, forgetting the wild notes of nature, to whistle a long and regular tune.

CHAP. V. Of the Swallow and its Affinities.

AN idea of any one bird in the former classes will give us some tolerable conception of the rest. By knowing the linnet, or the canary-bird, we have some notion of the manners of the gold-finch; by exhibiting the history of the nightingale, we see also that of the black-cap or the tit-mouse. But the swallow tribe seems to be entirely different from all the former: different in their form, different in their habits, and unlike in all the particulars of their history.

In this tribe is to be found the Goat sucker, which may be styled a nocturnal swallow: it is the largest of this kind, and is known by its tail, which is not forked, like that of the com∣mon swallow. It begins its flight at evening, and makes a loud singular noise, like the whur of a spinning-wheel. To this also belongs the House-swallow, which is too well known to need a description: the Martin, inferior in size to the former, and the tail much less forked; it differs also in its nest, which is covered at top, while that of the house-swallow is open; and the Swift, rather larger than the house-swallow, with all the

toes standing forward; in which it differs from the rest of its kind. All these resemble each other so strongly, that it is not without difficulty the smaller kinds are known asunder.

These are all known by their very large mouths, which, when they fly, are always kept open; they are not less remarkable for their short slender feet, which scarce are able to sup∣port the weight of their bodies; their wings are of immoderate extent for their bulk; their plumage is glossed with a rich purple; and their note is a slight twittering, which they seldom exert but upon the wing.

This peculiar conformation seems attended with a similar peculiarity of manners. Their food is insects, which they always pursue flying. For this reason, during fine weather, when the insects are most likely to be abroad, the swal∣lows are for ever upon the wing, and seen pur∣suing their prey with amazing swiftness and agility. All smaller animals, in some measure, find safety by winding and turning, when they endeavour to avoid the greater: the lark thus evades the pursuit of the hawk; and man the crocodile. In this manner, insects upon the wing endeavour to avoid the swallow; but this bird is admirably fitted by nature to pursue them through their shortest turnings. Besides a

great length of wing, it is also provided with a long tail, which, like a rudder, turns it in its most rapid motions; and thus, while it is pos∣sessed of the greatest swiftness, it is also possessed of the most extreme agility.

Early, therefore, in the spring, when the returning sun begins to rouze the insect tribe from their annual state of torpidity, when the gnat and the beetle put off their earthly robes and venture into air, the swallow then is seen returning from its long migration beyond the ocean, and making its way feebly to the shore. At first, with the timidity of a stranger, it ap∣pears but seldom, and flies but slowly and heavily along. As the weather grows warmer, and its insect supply encreases, it then gathers greater strength and activity. But it sometimes happens that a rainy season, by repelling the insects, stints the swallow in its food; the poor bird is then seen slowly skimming along the surface of the ground, and often resting after a flight of a few minutes. In general, however, it keeps on the wing, and moving with a ra∣pidity that nothing can escape. When the weather promises to be fair, the insect tribe feel the genial influence, and make bolder flights; at which time the swallow follows them in their aerial journeys, and often rises to im∣perceptible

heights in the pursuit. When the weather is likely to be foul, the insects feel the first notices of it; and from the swallow's fol∣lowing low we are often apprized of the ap∣proaching change.

When summer is fairly begun, and more than a sufficient supply for sustaining the wants of nature every where offers, the swallow then begins to think of forming a progeny. The nest is built with great industry and art; parti∣cularly by the common swallow, which builds it on the tops of chimnies. The martin sticks it to the eaves of houses. The goat-sucker, as we are told, builds it on the bare ground. This nest is built with mud from some neigh∣bouring brook, well tempered with the bill, moistened with water for the better adhesion; and still farther kept firm, by long grass and fibres: within it is lined with goose feathers, which are ever the warmest and the neatest. The martin covers its nest at top, and has a door to enter at; the swallow leaves her's quite open. But our European nests are nothing to be com∣pared with those the swallow builds on the coasts of China and Coromandel; the description of which I will give, in the plain honest phrase of Willoughby.

"On the sea-coast of the kingdom of China," says he, "a sort of

party-coloured birds, of the shape of swallows, at a certain season of the year, which is their breeding-time, come out of the mid-land country to the rocks, and from the foam or froth of the sea-water dashing against the bottom of the rocks, gather a certain clammy, glutinous matter, perchance the spawn of whales or other young fishes, of which they build their nests, wherein they lay their eggs and hatch their young. These nests the Chinese pluck from the rocks, and bring them, in great numbers, into the East-Indies to sell. They are esteemed, by gluttons, as great delicacies; who, dissolving them in chicken or mutton-broth, are very fond of them; far before oysters, mushrooms, or other dainty and lickorish morsels."

What a pity this luxury hath not been introduced among us; and then our great feasters might be enabled to eat a little more!

The swallow usually lays from five to six eggs, of a white colour, speckled with red; and sometimes breeds twice a year. When the young brood are excluded, the swallow supplies them very plentifully, the first brood particularly, when she finds herself capable of producing two broods in a year. This happens when the parents come early, when the season is peculiarly mild,

and when they begin to pair soon. Sometimes they find a difficulty in rearing even a single nest, particularly when the weather has been severe, or their nests have been robbed in the beginning of the season. By these accidents, this im∣portant task is sometimes deferred to the middle of September.

At the latter end of September they leave us; and for a few days previous to their de∣parture, assemble, in vast flocks, on house-tops, as if deliberating on the fatiguing journey that lay before them. This is no slight under∣taking, as their flight is directed to Congo, Senegal, and along the whole Morocco shore. There are some, however, left behind in this general expedition, that do not part till eight or ten days after the rest. These are chiefly the latter weakly broods, which are not yet in a condition to set out. They are some∣times even too feeble to venture, till the setting in of winter; while their parents vainly exhort them to efforts which instinct assures them they are incapable of performing. Thus it often happens, that the wretched little families, being compelled to stay, perish the first cold weather that comes; while the tender parents share the fate of their offspring, and die with their new-fledged brood.

Those that migrate, are first observed to arrive in Africa, as Mr. Adanson assures us, about the beginning of October. They are thought to have performed their fatiguing journey in the space of seven days. They are sometimes seen, when interrupted by contrary winds, wavering in their course far off at sea, and lighting upon whatever ship they find in their passage. They then seem spent with famine and fatigue; yet still they boldly venture, when refreshed by a few hours rest, to renew their flight, and continue the course which they had been steering before.

These are facts, proved by incontestible au∣thority; yet it is a doubt whether all swallows migrate in this manner, or whether there may not be some species of this animal that, though externally alike, are so internally different, as to be very differently affected by the approach of winter. We are assured, from many, and these not contemptible witnesses, that swallows hide themselves in holes under ground, joined close together, bill against bill, and feet against feet. Some inform us that they have seen them taken out of the water, and even from under the ice, in bunches, where they are asserted to pass the winter without motion. Reaumur, who particularly interested himself in this en∣quiry,

received several accounts of bundles of swallows being thus found in quarries and under the water. These men, therefore, have a right to some degree of assent; and are not to lose all credit from our ignorance of what they aver.

All, however, that we have hitherto dissected, are formed within like other birds; and seem to offer no observable variety. Indeed, that they do not hide themselves under water, has been pretty well proved, by the noted experiment of Frisch, who tied several threads died in water-colours, round the legs of a great number of swallows, that were preparing for their de∣parture: these, upon their return the ensuing summer, brought their threads back with them, no way damaged in their colour; which they most certainly would, if, during the winter, they had been steeped in water: yet still this is a subject on which we must suspend our assent, as Klein, the naturalist, has brought such a number of proofs, in defence of his opinion, that swallows are torpid in winter, as even the most incredulous must allow to have some degree of probability.

CHAP. VI. Of the Humming-bird and its Varieties.

HAVING given some history of the manners of the most remarkable birds of which accounts can be obtained, I might now go to a very ex∣tensive tribe, remarkable for the splendour and the variety of their plumage: but the descrip∣tion of the colours of a beautiful bird, has no∣thing in it that can inform or entertain; it rather excites a longing, which it is impossible for words to satisfy. Naturalists, indeed, have endeavoured to satisfy this desire, by coloured prints; but, beside that these at best give only a faint resemblance of nature, and are a very indifferent kind of painting, the bird itself has a thousand beauties, that the most exquisite artist is incapable of imitating. They, for instance, who imagine they have a complete idea of the beauty of the little tribe of Manikin birds, from the pictures we have of them, will find themselves deceived, when they compare their draughts with nature. The shining greens, the changeable purples, and the glossy reds, are beyond the reach of the pencil; and very far beyond the coloured print, which is but a

poor substitute to painting. I have therefore declined entering into a minute description of foreign birds of the sparrow kind; as sounds would never convey an adequate idea of colours.

There is one species, however, that I will conclude the history of this class with; as, though the least, it will certainly be allowed the most beautiful of all others. In quadrupedes, the smallest animals are noxious, ugly and loathsome; the smallest of birds are the most beautiful, innocent and sportive. Of all those that flutter in the garden, or paint the land∣scape, the Humming-bird is the most delightful to look upon, and the most inoffensive.

Of this charming little animal, there are six or seven varieties, from the size of a small wren, down to that of an humble-bee. An European could never have supposed a bird existing so very small, and yet completely fur∣nished out with a bill, feathers, wings, and in∣testines, exactly resembling those of the largest kind. A bird not so big as the end of one's little finger, would probably be supposed but a creature of imagination, were it not seen in in∣finite numbers, and as frequent as butterflies in a summer's day, sporting in the fields of Ame∣rica, from flower to flower, and extracting their sweets with its little bill.

The smallest humming-bird is about the size of an hazel-nut. The feathers on its wings and tail are black; but those on its body, and under its wings, are of a greenish brown, with a fine red cast or gloss, which no silk or velvet can imitate. It has a small crest on its head, green at the bottom, and as it were gilded at the top; and which sparkles in the sun like a little star in the middle of its forehead. The bill is black, straight, slender, and of the length of a small pin. The larger humming-bird is near half as big as the common wren, and without a crest on its head; but, to make amends, it is covered, from the throat half way down the belly, with changeable crimson coloured feathers, that, in different lights, change to a variety of beautiful colours, much like an opal. The heads of both are small, with very little round eyes as black as jet.

It is inconceivable how much these add to the high finishing and beauty of a rich luxurious western landscape. As soon as the sun is risen, the humming-birds, of different kinds, are seen fluttering about the flowers, without ever lighting upon them. Their wings are in such rapid motion, that it is impossible to discern their colours, except by their glittering. They

are never still, but continually in motion, vi∣siting flower after flower, and extracting its honey as if with a kiss. For this purpose they are furnished with a forky tongue, that enters the cup of the flower and extracts its nectared tribute. Upon this alone they subsist. The rapid motion of their wings brings out an hum∣ming sound, from whence they have their name; for whatever divides the air swiftly, must thus produce a murmur.

The nests of these birds are not less curious than the rest: they are suspended in the air, at the point of the twigs of an orange, a pome∣granate, or a citron-tree; sometimes even in houses, if they find a small and convenient twig for the purpose. The female is the architect, while the male goes in quest of materials; such as cotton, fine moss, and the fibres of vege∣tables. Of these materials a nest is composed, of about the size of an hen's egg cut in two, admirably contrived, and warmly lined with cotton. They lay two eggs at a time, and never more, about the size of small peas, and as white as snow, with here and there a yellow speck. The male and the female sit upon the nest by turns; but the female takes to herself the greatest share. She seldom quits the nest, except a few minutes in the morning and

evening, when the dew is upon the flowers and their honey in perfection. During this short interval, the male takes her place; for, as the egg is so small, the exposing it ever so short a time to the weather, would be apt to injure its contents, the surface exposed being so great in comparison to the bulk. The time of incubation continues twelve days; at the end of which the young ones appear, much about the size of a blue-bottle fly. They are at first bare; by degrees they are covered with down; and, at last, feathers succeed, but less beautiful at first than those of the old ones.

"Father Labat's companion, in the mission to America, found the nest of an humming-bird, in a shed that was near the dwelling-house, and took it in, at a time when the young ones were about fifteen or twenty days old; he then placed them in a cage at his chamber window, to be amused by their sportive flutterings; but he was soon sur∣prized to see the old ones, that came and fed their brood regularly every hour in the day. By these means they themselves soon grew so tame that they seldom quitted the chamber; but, without any constraint, came to live with their young ones. All four have fre∣quently come to perch upon their master's

hand, chirruping as if they had been at liberty abroad. He fed them with a very fine clear paste, made of wine, biscuit and sugar. They thrust their tongues into this paste, till they were satisfied, and then fluttered and chirruped about the room. I never beheld any thing more agreeable," continues he, "than this lovely little family, that had taken possession of my companion's chamber, and that flew out and in just as they thought proper; but were ever attentive to the voice of their master, when he called them. In this manner they lived with him for above six months; but, at a time when he expected to see a new colony formed, he unfortunately forgot to tie up their cage to the cieling at night, to preserve them from the rats, and he found they were devoured in the morn∣ing."

These birds, on the continent of America, continue to flutter the year round; as their food, which is the honey of flowers, never forsakes them in those warm latitudes where they are found. But it is otherwise in the islands of the Antilles, where, when the winter season approaches, they retire, and, as some say, continue in a torpid state during the seve∣rity of that season. At Surinam and Jamaica,

where they constantly have flowers, these beau∣tiful birds are never known to disappear.

It is a doubt whether or not these birds have a continued note in singing. All travellers agree that, beside the humming noise produced by their wings, they have a little interrupted chirrup; but Labat asserts, that they have a most pleasing melancholy melody in their voices, though small and proportioned to the organs which produce it. It is very probable that, in different places, their notes are also different; and as there are some that continue torpid all the winter, there may likewise be some with agree∣able voices, though the rest may in general be silent.

The Indians formerly made great use of this pretty bird's plumage, in adorning their belts and head-dress. The children take them in the fields upon rings smeared with bird-lime: they approach the place where the birds are flying, and twirling their rings in the air, so allure them, either by the colour or the sound, that the simple little creature comes to rest upon the ring, and is seized. They are then instantly killed and gutted, and hung up in the chimney to dry. Those who take greater care, dry them in a stove, which is not so likely to injure the plumage as the foregoing method. Their

beautiful feathers were once the ornament of the highest rank of savage nobility: but at pre∣sent, they take the bird rather for the purpose of selling it as a curiosity to the Europeans, than that of ornament for themselves. All the taste for savage finery is wearing out fast, even among the Americans. They now begin to adopt, if not the dresses of Europe, at least the materials of which they are composed. The wandering warrior is far from thinking himself fine at present with his bow and his feathered crown: his ambition reaches to higher orna∣ments; a gun, a blue shirt and a blanket.