[_p. 46._]]
[Illustration:
Rose coloured Starling [F] Dipper [M]
Starling [M] Golden Oriole [F] [M]]
FAMILY CERTHIIDae
THE TREE CREEPER CERTHIA FAMILIaRIS
Upper plumage mottled with yellowish brown, dark brown, and white; a pale streak over the eyes; throat and breast buff-white, becoming dusky towards the tail; wings brown tipped with white and barred with white brown, and dull yellow; tail-feathers reddish brown, stiff and pointed. Length five inches, breadth seven inches. Eggs white, with small yellowish red spots.
The Tree Creeper, though a common bird, is less familiarly known than many others of much rarer occurrence, yet, if once observed, can be confounded with no other. In size it ranks with the Tits, Willow Wren, etc., but is less likely to attract notice than any of these, as it never alights on the ground, nor perches on the small twig of a tree.
Its note, too, is weak, simple, and unpretending, amounting to no more than an occasional '_cheep_', which it utters from time to time while hunting for food, and while performing its short flights. Any one, however, who wishes to see the bird, and knows what to search for, can scarcely fail of success if he looks well about him during a stroll through almost any wood of full-grown trees. Half-way up the trunk of a rugged elm or oak he will observe a small portion of bark, as it were, in motion; the motion, and not the colour, betrays the presence of a small brown bird, which is working its way by a succession of irregular starts up the trunk. Frequently it stops for a few seconds, and is evidently pecking at some small insect, quite noiselessly however. Its beak is not adapted for hammering; it confines its attention therefore to such insects as live on the surface of the bark. It utters a low '_cheep_', and proceeds, not in a straight line up the tree, but turning to the right or left according as it descries a probable lurking-place of its prey: presently it disappears on the other side of the trunk, and again comes in view a few feet higher up.
Now it reaches a horizontal branch; along this it proceeds in like manner, being indifferent whether it clings sideways, or hangs with its back downwards. Arrived at the smaller subdivisions of the bough it ceases to hunt; but, without remaining an instant to rest, flies to the base of another bough, or more probably, to another tree, alighting a few feet only from the ground, and at once beginning a new ascent. This mode of life it never varies: from morning to night, in winter and in summer, it is always climbing up the boles of trees, and when it has reached the top, flying to the base of others. On one solitary occasion I observed one retrace its steps for a few inches, and stand for a second or two with its head downwards; but this is a most unusual position, as indeed may be inferred from the structure of its tail, the feathers of which are rigid, and more or less soiled by constant pressure against the bark. It frequently visits orchards and gardens in the country, displaying little fear of man, preferring perhaps to hunt on the far side of a tree when any one is looking on; but not very particular even about this, and certainly never thinking it necessary to decamp because it is being watched. To this indifference to the presence of human beings, it owes its name '_familiaris_', and not, as it might be imagined, to any fondness for their society, which, in fact, it neither courts nor shuns. It is a quiet inoffensive creature, congregating with no other birds, and being rarely, except in spring, seen in company with even its own species. It builds its nest of small roots and twigs, scraps of bark and grass, and lines it with wool and feathers. A hole in a pollard willow is a favourite place for a nest; in default of this a hollow in any other tree is selected, or the space between the stump of a tree and a detached portion of bark; and it chooses the straw eaves of some shed. It lays from six to nine eggs, which are exceedingly like those of the smaller Tits.
FAMILY TROGLODYTIDae
THE WREN TRoGLODYTES PaRVULUS
Upper plumage reddish brown with transverse dusky bars; quills barred alternately with black and reddish brown; tail dusky, barred with black; over the eyes a narrow light streak; under parts light reddish brown; the sides and thighs marked with dark streaks. Length three inches and three-quarters; breadth six inches and a half. Eggs white with a few yellowish red spots towards the larger end, sometimes without spots.
Throughout the whole of England the Wren is invested with a sanctity peculiar to itself and the Redbreast. In the west of England I was familiar, as a child, with the doggerel rhymes:
Whoso kills a Robin or a Wran Shall never prosper boy nor man.
In the north it is protected by a similar shield:
Malisons, malisons, mair than ten, Who harries the queen of heaven's Wren.
In the Isle of Man a legend exists that there 'once on a time' lived a wicked enchantress who practised her spells on the warriors of Mona, and thereby stripped the country of its chivalry. A doughty knight at length came to the rescue, and was on the point of surprising her and putting her to death, when she suddenly transformed herself into a Wren and flew through his fingers. Every year, on Christmas Day, she is compelled to reappear in the island under the form of a Wren, with the sentence hanging over her, that she is to perish by human hands.
On that day, consequently, every year, a grand onslaught is made by troops of idle boys and men on every Wren which can be discovered.
Such as are killed are suspended from a bough of holly and carried about in triumph on the following day (St. Stephen's Day), the bearers singing a rude song descriptive of the previous day's hunt. The song is preserved in Quiggin's _Guide to the Isle of Man_, as it was sung in 1853; and, strange to say, it agrees almost word for word with a song which was current twenty years ago, and is so perhaps now, among the rustic population of Devonshire, though the actual hunt has in the latter case fallen into disuse.
In several parts of Ireland, especially the south, there still exists a legend to the effect that a party of Irish soldiers were on the point of surprising their enemies (either Danes or Royalists, for the story varies) who lay fatigued and asleep, when a Wren perched on the drum and awoke the sentinels. An unhappy legend for the poor bird. For some weeks previous to Christmas, peasants assemble to revenge the treachery of the offender in the persons of his descendants. Every Wren that is seen is hunted to death, and the bodies are carefully saved till St. Stephen's Day, when they are suspended from a decorated holly-bough and carried from house to house by the captors, accompanied by a song of which, in Connemara, this is the burden:
The Wran, the Wran, the king of all birds, St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze; Although he is little, his family's great; So come out, kind ladies, and give us a trate.
The version of the song in Hall's _Ireland_, as it is sung in the neighbourhood of Cork, scarcely differs from the above, and a similar one may be heard on the same day within twenty miles of Dublin. That a custom so absurdly singular should exist in places so remote, is in itself evidence that it is of ancient origin, though whence derived it would be idle to inquire.
The true story of the Wren is simple enough. It is a minute bird of unpretending plumage, distinguished easily by its erect tail and its habit of hiding in bushes and hedges, not clinging like the Creeper to the perpendicular or horizontal bough of a tree, but hopping from twig to twig, and occasionally taking a short direct flight to another place of concealment, but rarely exposing itself by doing more than this. When hunting for its food, which is considered to be almost exclusively insects, it searches diligently holes and crannies of all kinds, and in all substances. I have known one make its way habitually through a zinc pipe into a greenhouse, and do much service there by picking aphides from the slender stalks of herbaceous plants, which bent into the form of an arch under even its trifling weight. While thus occupied it has suffered me to come within arm's length, but has taken no notice of me. Generally, it displays little fear of man; but, though in winter it resorts to the neighbourhood of houses in quest of food, it shows no disposition, like the Redbreast, to enter on terms of intimacy, nor is it sociable either with its own kind or other birds. Its call-note is a simple '_chip_, _chip_', which often betrays its vicinity when it is itself concealed from sight. Its proper song is full, loud, clear, and powerful, rapidly executed and terminating in a trill or shake, followed by two or three unimportant notes. This it utters occasionally in autumn and winter. About the middle of March the song of the Wren is among the most frequent sounds of the country.
At this season one may often hear in a garden the roundelay of a Wren poured forth from the concealment of a low shrub; and, immediately that it is completed, a precisely similar lay bursts forth from another bush some twenty yards off. No sooner is this ended than it is answered, and so the vocal duel proceeds, the birds never interfering with each other's song, but uttering in turns the same combinations and arrangement of notes, just as if they were reading off copies of a score printed from the same type.[9]
But the season is coming on when the Wren has to be occupied with other things than singing down a rival. Nest-making is with this bird something more than the laying of a few sticks across one another. It is not every one who has at once the time, the inclination and the steadiness of purpose to watch, from beginning to end, the completion of a Wren's nest. To most people, one or other of these qualifications is wanting, and to not a few all three. A friend of Mr. Macgillivray, however, performed the task, and furnished him with a most satisfactory detailed account of what passed under his observation.
The nest was commenced at seven o'clock in the morning of the thirtieth of May, by the female bird's placing the decayed leaf of a lime-tree in the cleft of a Spanish juniper. The male took no part in the work, but regaled his busy partner by singing to her all day long.
At one period of the day she brought in bundles of leaves four, five, and even six times in the space of ten minutes. At other times, when greater care was needed in the selection of materials, she was sometimes absent for eight or ten minutes, but such was her industry that at seven o'clock the whole of the external workmanship was finished, the materials being dry leaves, felted together with moss.
On the following day both birds joined in the work, beginning as early as half-past three o'clock in the morning, the materials being now moss and a few feathers. So the work proceeded, day after day, until the eighth of June, when the structure was completed, being a compact ball of dried leaves felted with moss and thickly lined with finer moss and feathers, domed over and having a small circular opening on one side. Dried leaves form the exterior of most Wrens' nests, unless they are placed in situations where such an appearance would attract the attention of a passer-by. On a mossy bank, the outside would probably consist of moss; under the root of a tree, of twigs; in a hay-stack, of hay, and so on, the bird being guided by its instinct to select the least conspicuous material. The number of eggs laid is usually six, but as many as fifteen or sixteen have been observed. Any one residing in the country, who has given his attention to birds'
nests, must have remarked what a large proportion of the Wrens' nests which he has discovered are in an unfinished state and contain no eggs. These are called 'cock' nests. In winter wrens resort in numbers to old nests and to holes in walls for mutual warmth and shelter.
[9] I have heard the same musical contest in August.
FAMILY CINCLIDae
THE DIPPER CINCLUS AQUaTICUS
Upper plumage dark brown, tinged with ash; throat and breast pure white; abdomen brownish red; bill blackish; feet horn-colour. _Female_--colours nearly the same, but of a dingy hue. Length seven inches. Eggs pure white.
Any one who has wandered by the mountain rivers of Scotland, North Wales, or Derbyshire, can have scarcely failed to notice a bird, somewhat less than a Blackbird, black above, with white throat and breast, dart with rapid and direct flight from a low rock on the river's bank, and alight on a wet mossy stone rising but a few inches above the water, where the stream runs swiftest and the spray sparkles brightest. But for the roar of the torrent you might hear his song, a low melodious strain, which he often carries far on into the winter.
His movements while he is thus perched are peculiar; a jerking upwards of the tail and dipping forward of the head remind us of the Wren, a bird with which he has, however, nothing really in common. Water Thrush is one of his names; but he is better known by the names, Dipper and Water Ouzel. Though neither furnished with web-feet like the Ducks, nor with long legs like the Waders, the Dipper is decidedly an aquatic bird, for he is never seen at any distance from a stream or mountain tarn; in his habits he resembles no other of his tribe--a water bird with a song--a song bird that wades, and swims. That he should be so far only singular in his habits is not enough. Although he is a wader he wades differently from other birds; and he uses his wings like oars. The Dipper uses both legs and wings in search of prey, examining the pebbles, feeding on molluscs and the larvae of insects. Mr. St. John is of opinion that it commits great havoc among the spawn, 'uncovering the eggs, and leaving what it does not eat open to the attack of eels and other fish, or liable to be washed away by the current'. Mr. Macgillivray, on the contrary, states that he has dissected a great number of individuals at all seasons of the year, and has found no other substances in their stomachs but insects and molluscs; he is therefore of opinion that the charge of destroying the spawn of fish is unfounded. The latter opinion obtains now.
I might greatly extend my sketch of this interesting bird, but I have space only to add, that it builds a compact nest of moss, felted so as to be impervious to water, and lined with dead leaves, under a bank overhanging a stream, in the hole of a wall near a mill-dam, or between two rocks under a cascade, but always in such a situation that both old and young birds can throw themselves into the water immediately on being alarmed. I have read of one instance in which a nest was built under a waterfall in such a position, that the bird could not go to and fro without penetrating every time a vertical sheet of water. The nest is domed, and can be entered only by a small hole in front. It contains usually five or six whitish eggs, somewhat smaller than those of the Thrush.
FAMILY ORIOLIDae
THE GOLDEN ORIOLE ORIoLUS GaLBULA
Plumage golden yellow; lore, wings and tail black, the tail yellow at the tip. _Female_:--olive green above, greyish white tinged with yellow beneath, and streaked with greyish brown; wings dark brown, the quills edged with olive grey; tail olive, tinged with dark brown. Length ten inches. Eggs white with a few isolated dark brown or black spots.
This brilliant bird, resembling the Thrushes in form and habits, but apparelled in the plumage of the Tropics, would seem to have no right to a place among British birds, so little is its gorgeous livery in keeping with the sober hues of our other feathered denizens. There can, however, be no doubt of the propriety of placing it among our visitors, though it comes but seldom and makes no long stay. It is a visitor to the southern sea-board counties and often seen in Cornwall and the Scilly Isles. Were it left unmolested, and allowed to breed in our woods, it is probable that it would return with its progeny, and become of comparatively common occurrence; but though there are on record one or two creditable exceptions, when real naturalists have postponed the glory of shooting and adding to their collection a British specimen, to the pleasure of watching its ways on British soil, yet its biography is not to be written from materials collected in this country. On the European continent it is a regular visitor, though even there it makes no long stay, arriving in the beginning of May, and taking its departure early in autumn. It is most common in Spain, Southern France, and Italy, but is not unfrequent in many other parts of France, in Belgium, and the south of Germany, and Hungary.
'His note', says Cuthbert Collingwood, 'is a very loud whistle, which may be heard at a great distance, but in richness equalling the flute stop of a fine-toned organ. This has caused it to be called _Loriot_ in France. But variety there is none in his song, as he never utters more than three notes consecutively, and those at intervals of half a minute or a minute. Were it not for its fine tone, therefore, his song would be as monotonous as that of the Missel Thrush, which in modulation it greatly resembles.'
The nest of the Oriole is described as a marvel of architectural skill, excelling in elegance of form, richness of materials, and delicacy of workmanship combined with strength. It is overlaid externally, like that of the Chaffinch, with the silvery white lichen of fruit trees, which gives it the appearance of being a part of the branch which supports it. But the mansion of the Oriole is more skilfully concealed than that even of the Chaffinch. The latter is placed _on_ a branch, of which it increases the apparent size, and so attracts attention. The nest of the Oriole, on the contrary, is suspended between the two forks of a horizontal branch, which intercept the side view of it. The materials employed are the lichen above mentioned, wool, cobwebs, and feathers, but all of a white hue.
When not placed in a fruit tree, it is attached by a kind of cordage to the twigs of a poplar or birch tree, or even to a bunch of mistletoe, hanging in mid-air like the car of a balloon. A cradle thus sedulously constructed we should expect to find watched with unusual solicitude. And such is the case; it is defended most valiantly against the attacks of marauding birds, and so devoted is the mother bird that she has been known to suffer herself to be carried away sitting on her eggs, and to die of starvation. Surely a bird so beautiful and so melodious, so skilful an architect and so tender a nurse, deserves rather to be encouraged than exterminated. Nests have been found in several of our counties, more especially in Kent. The plumage of the female bird differs considerably from that of the male in richness of tint, and the young of both sexes resemble the female.
FAMILY STURNIDae
THE STARLING STURNUS VULGARIS
Plumage black, with brilliant purple and green reflections, the upper feathers tipped with cream-colour; under tail-coverts edged with white; beak yellow; feet flesh-colour, tinged with brown. _Female_--spotted below as well as above.
_Young_--uniform ash-brown, without spots. Length eight and a half inches; width fifteen inches. Eggs uniform pale greenish blue.
The Starling is a citizen of the world. From the North Cape to the Cape of Good Hope, and from Iceland to Kamtschatka, he is almost everywhere at home, and too familiar with the dealings of man to come within a dangerous distance of his arm, though he fully avails himself of all the advantages which human civilization offers, having discovered, long ago, that far more grubs and worms are to be procured on a newly-mown meadow than on the bare hillside, and that the flavour of May-dukes and Coroons immeasurably excels that of the wild cherries in the wood. That dove-cots, holes in walls, and obsolete water-spouts are convenient resting-places for a nest, appears to be a traditional piece of knowledge, and that where sheep and oxen are kept, there savoury insects abound, is a fact generally known, and improved on accordingly. So, in suburban gardens, where even the Redbreast and Tits are unknown, Starlings are periodical visitors and afford much amusement by their shambling gait, and industrious boring on the lawn for larvae--in cherry orchards they are regarded with terror, on account of the amount of mischief they will accomplish in a short space of time; and in the sheep-fold they are doubtless most cordially welcomed and their services thankfully received, as they rid the poor tormented animals of many an evil 'tick'.
The Starling is a handsome bird; seen at a distance it appears to be of a uniform black hue, but on closer inspection its sable coat is found to be lustrous with reflections of purple and green, and every feather is tipped with white, or cream-colour--a mantle of shot-silk garnished with pearls.
Except during the nesting season, a Starling is rarely seen alone; most commonly perhaps they are observed in parties of from six to twelve, hunting in orchards or meadows for whichsoever article of their diet happens to be in season. Wherever a colony of Rooks, Jackdaws, or Rock Pigeons has established itself, there most probably, or somewhere in the neighbourhood, a large party will assemble to roost, and will attend the others on all their foraging expeditions.
In spring the flocks, small and great, break up into pairs, each withdrawing to a convenient nesting place, which is sometimes a hole in a tree, sometimes a building, a cliff, or a cave. The nest itself is a simple structure, being composed of dry grass and roots, and contains generally five eggs. At this season the male bird adds to the chirping and twittering notes of both sexes a soft, and not unmusical note, which resembles more closely than any other sound with which I am acquainted the piping of a boatswain's whistle, and it is not uncommon to hear a party of choristers thus engaged, perched meanwhile on some high tree, even while incubation is going on. Starlings, also, mimic the notes of other singers. The breeding season over, they become nomad in their habits. Many families unite into a flock, and explore the country far and wide for suitable feeding places, their diet being, up to this time, exclusively worms and insects. But no sooner does the fruit begin to ripen in the cherry districts, than the flocks, now assembled in countless multitudes, descend on the trees, and, if not observed and scared away, appropriate the whole crop.
Newly-fledged Starlings are so different from their parents, that they might be mistaken for a different species. The plumage is of a uniform greyish brown, lighter beneath. It is not till the end of July or the beginning of August that the adult plumage begins to show itself, and then the young birds present a singular appearance, as the glossy black feathers, tipped with pearl, appear in irregular patches on various parts of the body. Starlings do not usually roost near the scene of their depredations, but from this season and thence until late in autumn they repair, as if by some preconcerted scheme, to a rendezvous common to many detachments. A writer in the _Zoologist_ states that there were formerly, near Melbourne In Cambridgeshire, some large patches of reeds, which were rented at a certain annual sum, and which the tenant sold to builders to use in making plaster-floors and ceilings of rooms. Towards autumn, Starlings resorted to them in such numbers to roost, that unless scared away, they settled upon the reeds, broke them down and rendered them completely useless. It required a person to keep watch every evening for some time, and fire at them repeatedly with a gun as they were settling down; but as the spot was a favourite one, they showed considerable reluctance in quitting it.