The American House Wren is described by Audubon as a cheery familiar little bird, resembling the common wren in many of his habits, if not indeed identical with it.

Wilson says, "in the month of June a mower hung up his coat, under a shed, near the barn, and two or three days elapsed before he had occasion to put it on again, when thrusting his arm up the sleeve, he found it completely filled with some rubbish, as he called it, and on extracting the whole ma.s.s, found it to be the nest of a wren completely finished, and lined with a large quant.i.ty of feathers. In his retreat, he was followed by the forlorn little proprietors, who scolded him with great vehemence for thus ruining the whole economy of their household affairs." Wilson also tells a very pretty story of a pair of wrens who built their nest upon a window sill, one of whom, the female, venturing to enter the room was devoured by a cat. The male bird showed much uneasiness when he missed his mate, but after a time disappeared for two days, returning with a new wife, and with her help removing the two eggs left by her predecessor to a new nest in a more secure position.

The Nightingale.

The Nightingale and the Sky-Lark, may perhaps be said to divide honours in the sphere of feathered song. Both have entranced innumerable auditors and both have won n.o.ble tributes from poets' pens. Both, moreover, are plain birds. The nightingale is of a tawny colour on the head and back, and of a greyish white on the throat and under parts. It has a full large eye of great brightness. It is one of the largest of the song birds, measuring seven inches in length. The nightingale is found in Yorkshire but not in Lancashire, also in Surrey, Suss.e.x, Kent, Dorsetshire, Somersetshire and East Devonshire, but not in Cornwall. It belongs to France, Germany, Poland, Italy, and Palestine.

The Nightingale's Song.

"The Nightingale's song," says the author of "Tales of Animals," "unites strength and sweetness, in a most wonderful degree, as its notes may be heard on a calm evening at the distance of half a mile. The most consummate musician might listen with delight to its song, whatever might be his peculiar taste, as it can at one moment thrill the heart with joy and at another melt it to sober sadness, by the laughing and sighing modulations which follow each other in rapid succession through the melody, which is seldom interrupted by a pause. As if conscious of its unrivalled powers, it does not join the sometimes discordant concert of the other songsters, but waits on some solitary twig till the blackbird and thrush have uttered their evening call, till the stock and ring doves have lulled each other to rest, and then it displays at full its melodious fancies." The following is an attempt made by a well-known naturalist to reduce the song to writing:

"Tiuu tiuu tiuu tiuu--Spe tiuu zqua--Tio tio tio tio tio tio tio tix--Qutio qutio qutio qutio--Zquo zquo zquo zquo--Tzu tzu tzu tzu tzu tzu tzu tzu tzu tzi--Quorror tin zqua pipiquisi--Zozozozozozozozozozozozo zirrhading!" &c. &c.

Quaint old Izaac Walton says: "But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet, loud music out of her instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think that miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descents, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, '_Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in Heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth!_'"

The Robin Redbreast.

The Robin Redbreast is a prime favourite in English cottage homes. Its appearance on the window sill at the approach of winter is an irresistible appeal to human sympathy and seldom fails of a hearty response. Captain Brown mentions a robin which, during a severe storm, came to the window of the room where his father sat, upon which his father opened the window, to give it some crumbs. "Instead of flying away, the robin hopped into the room, and picked the crumbs from the floor. His father, being very fond of animals, took great pleasure in taming this bird, and so completely succeeded, that it would pick small pieces of raw flesh and worms from his hand, sat on the table at which he wrote, and, when the day was very cold, perched upon the fender. When a stranger entered, it flew to the top of a door, where it perched every night. The window was frequently opened to admit air, but the robin never offered to go away. As the spring advanced, and the weather became fine, it flew away every morning, and returned every evening, till the time of incubation arrived, and it then flew away altogether. At the next fall of the year it again asked for admittance, and behaved exactly in the same manner as before. It did this a third time, but when it flew away the ensuing spring, it was never seen again." Robins have been known to build their nests in queer places. Mrs. Bowdich tells of one which attached its nest to the Bible of the parish church of Hampton, Warwickshire, and of others which built theirs on the reading desk of a church in Wiltshire and deposited six eggs in it.

The Intelligence of the Robin.

The Robin is an intelligent little bird and some pretty stories are told of its sagacity. Mrs. Bowdich mentions a gardener who was in the service of a friend of hers, who having made a pet of a robin, was one day much struck with the uneasiness of his little friend, and concluding that he wanted a.s.sistance followed him to his nest, which occupied a flower pot, when he discovered that a snake had coiled itself round the little home.

Happily the gardener was in time to save the birds though at the snake's expense. In "The Gardener's Chronicle" there is a story, quoted by Mrs.

Bowdich, of a robin which having been caught young and kept with a nightingale, learned the nightingale's song so perfectly as to be indistinguishable in performance.

The t.i.tmouse.

There are several varieties of the t.i.tmouse; the Blue t.i.tmouse, the Great t.i.tmouse, and the Long-tailed t.i.tmouse are some of these. The Blue t.i.tmouse, sometimes called a Tomt.i.t, is a plucky little bird and resists capture with such vigour that according to the Rev. J. G. Wood it has become known to rustic boys by the name of "Billybiter." "The angry hiss of the female," says Mr. Wood, "has frequently caused an intruding hand to be rapidly withdrawn, for the sound is so exceedingly like the hiss of an irritated snake, and the little beak is so sharp, that few have the courage to proceed with their investigations. A pair of these birds built their nest in the coping of the Great Western Railway, at the Shrivenham station, not two feet from the fiery and noisy engines, which were constantly pa.s.sing. The men respected the courage of the little birds, and the whole brood was hatched, and suffered to fly at liberty."

The Great t.i.tmouse is found in various parts of Europe. According to Mrs. Bowdich it is sufficiently pliable to roll itself up in a ball, and is strong enough to crack a hazel nut. She says, "It will plant itself at the door of a hive, and tap loudly on the edge; which signal is answered by a sentinel bee who is immediately snapped up, taken to the bough of a tree where he is beaten to death, and then loses his head and thorax; the rest of him being unworthy of the appet.i.te of his captor."

The Long-tailed t.i.tmouse is famous for the beauty, security and warmth of its nest.

The Golden Oriole.

The Golden Oriole deserves mention if only for its beautiful name; it has, however, other claims to attention. It is found in Europe and Australia and visits England occasionally during the summer, but is not found in America. The male is a very handsome bird of a golden yellow colour, with wings and tail of black, the feathers of the latter ending in yellow. It lives on fruit and berries, and, failing these, insects, and inhabits thickets and wooded spots adjacent to orchards, upon which it commits serious depredations.

The Shrike.

There are several species of Shrikes, the Thick-headed Shrike, the Great Shrike, and the Red-backed Shrike being among these. The Great Shrike belongs to both Europe and America. In appearance it resembles the Mocking Bird for which it is sometimes mistaken. It preys upon mice, frogs, birds, gra.s.shoppers and large insects, killing and then impaling them upon thorns until such time as it chooses to eat them. Its rapacity has earned for it the name of "the Butcher Bird." According to Mr. Bell these birds are kept tame in the houses in Russia. One in his possession was furnished with a sharply pointed stick for a perch, on the end of which it spitted any bird or animal it caught. The Shrike believes in a well filled larder, and does not proceed to eat his game until he has a good stock. He is also known as the "Nine-killer" in America, from his supposed preference for spitting that number at a forage.

The Jay.

We now come to the family of the Corvidae, the crow family, which includes the Jays, the Magpies and the Choughs. The Common Jay is indigenous in England where it secludes itself in woody fastnesses, rarely exposing itself in open country. It is a handsome bird about thirteen inches long, with beautiful blue markings on its wings, but is so shy that it is difficult to get a sight of it when at liberty. Taken young it may be easily tamed, when it becomes an amusing, if mischievous pet. It has considerable powers of mimicry and can imitate the common sounds it hears with wonderful exactness. The bleat of the lamb, the mew of the cat, the neigh of the horse and the cries of other birds give exercise to this faculty, and Bewick says: "We have heard one imitate the sound made by the action of a saw, so exactly, that though it was on a Sunday, we could hardly be persuaded that the person who kept it had not a carpenter at work in the house." Like many other birds it becomes bold in the care and protection of its young. Knapp in his "Journals of a Naturalist" says:

"This bird is always extremely timid, when its own interest or safety is solely concerned; but no sooner does its hungry brood clamour for supply, than it loses all its wary character, and becomes a bold and impudent thief. At this period it will visit our gardens, which it rarely approaches at other times, plunder them of every raspberry, cherry, or bean, that it can obtain, and will not cease from rapine as long as any of the brood or the crop remains. We see all the nestlings approach, and, settling near some meditated scene of plunder, quietly await a summons to commence. A parent bird from some tree, surveys the ground, then descends upon the cherry, or into the rows, immediately announces a discovery, by a low but particular call, and all the family flock into the banquet, which having finished by repeated visits, the old birds return to the woods, with all their chattering children, and become the same wild, cautious creatures they were before."

The Blue Jay.

Wilson gives the following description of the Blue Jay: "This elegant bird, peculiar to North America, is distinguished as a kind of beau among the feathered tenants of the woods, by the brilliancy of his dress; and like most other c.o.xcombs, makes himself still more conspicuous by his loquacity, and the oddness of his tones and gestures.

Of all birds he is the most bitter enemy to the owl. No sooner has he discovered the retreat of one of these, than he calls the whole feathered fraternity to his a.s.sistance, who surround the glimmering recluse, and attack him from all sides, raising such a shout as may be heard on a still day more than half a mile off. The owl at length, forced to betake himself to flight, is followed by his whole train of persecutors, until driven beyond the boundaries of their jurisdiction.

But the blue jay himself is not guiltless of similar depredations as the owl and becomes in his turn the very tyrant he detested, and he is sometimes attacked with such spirit as to be under the necessity of making a speedy retreat. The blue jay is not only bold and vociferous, but possesses a considerable talent for mimicry, and seems to enjoy great satisfaction in mocking and teasing other birds, particularly the little hawk, imitating his cry whenever he sees him, and squeaking out as if caught; this soon brings a number of his own tribe around him, who all join in the frolic, darting about the hawk, and feigning the cries of a bird sorely wounded, and already in the clutches of its devourer; while others lie concealed in bushes, ready to second their a.s.sociates in the attack. But this ludicrous farce often terminates tragically. The hawk, singling out one of the most insolent and provoking, swoops upon him in an unguarded moment, and offers him up a sacrifice to his hunger and resentment. In an instant the tune is changed, all their buffoonery vanishes, and loud and incessant screams proclaim their disaster.

Whenever the jay has had the advantage of education from man, he has not only shown himself an apt scholar, but his suavity of manners seems equalled only by his art and contrivances, though it must be confessed that his itch for thieving keeps pace with all his other acquirements."

The Magpie.

The Magpie is an ancient bird and is mentioned by Plutarch and other early writers. It is indigenous in England and shows great industry and ingenuity in the construction of its nest, which it lines with mud plaster and covers with thorns, building upon high trees and in secluded spots. It feeds upon both animal and vegetable food, attacking birds, young ducks and chickens, as well as mice and even rats, and regaling itself on both fruit and grain. It attains to a length of about eighteen inches and is a handsome bird, though captivity does not improve its appearance.

The Magpie's Mischief.

The mischievous habits of the magpie have won for it the name of "the Monkey of the Birds," the Raven as Mr. Wood puts it being "the ornithological baboon." Its mischief is displayed in many ways; in the wanton destruction of articles and in their crafty secretion, as well as in the thievish appropriation of edible dainties. Mr. Wood tells of a Wiltshire magpie which "found a malicious enjoyment in pecking the unprotected ankles of little boys not yet arrived at manly habiliments, and was such a terror to the female servants that they were forced to pa.s.s his lurking-place armed with a broom. One of the servants having neglected this precaution, was actually found sitting down on the stones to protect her ankles, the magpie triumphantly pacing round her, until aid was brought, and the bird driven away." Mrs. Bowdich quotes the following from Mr. Ranson: "A magpie, kept by a branch of our family, was noted for his powers of imitation. He could whistle tunes, imitate hens and ducks, and speak very plainly. Seated upon a toll-bar gate, he would shout 'Gate, ahoy!' so distinctly, as to draw out the keeper, who was generally saluted by a loud laugh when he answered the call. When the keeper's wife was making pastry, he would practise the same manuvre, and if the trick were not detected, and the woman rushed out to open the gate, the magpie darted into the house, and speedily made his exit with his bill full of paste; and he, in great glee, would chatter about it for some time afterwards. He would perch upon the backs of chairs, say he was hungry, or inform the juniors of the family it was time to go to school. He was allowed to run about, but was never out of mischief, and had a constant propensity to pilfer and hide small articles." Of the serious consequences sometimes attending this habit of secreting things, the following story from Lady Morgan's "Italy" is a painful ill.u.s.tration.--"A n.o.ble lady of Florence, resided in a house which stands still opposite the lofty Doric column which was raised to commemorate the defeat of Pietro Strozzi, and the taking of Sienna, by the tyrannic conqueror of both. Cosmo, the First, lost a valuable pearl necklace, and one of her waiting-women, (a very young girl) was accused of the theft. Having solemnly denied the fact, she was put to the torture, which was then _a plaisir_ at Florence. Unable to support its terrible infliction, she acknowledged that 'she was guilty,' and, without further trial, was hung. Shortly after, Florence was visited by a tremendous storm; a thunder-bolt fell on the figure of Justice, and split the scales, one of which fell to the earth, and with it fell the ruins of a magpie's nest, containing the pearl necklace. Those scales are still the haunts of birds, and I never saw them hovering round them, without thinking of those 'good old times,' when innocent women could be first tortured, and then hung on suspicion."

The Raven.

The Raven is a large bird, indeed the largest of the British crows, attaining to a length of two feet two inches, and having a stretch of wing of four feet eight inches, in width. It is an historic bird, being mentioned by Pliny who records that a tame one kept in the Temple of Castor, was taught by a tailor whom it used to visit, to p.r.o.nounce the name of the Emperor Tiberius and of the other members of the Royal family. The fame of the bird brought the tailor riches, but excited the jealousy of his neighbours, one of whom killed the bird. The record states that the offender was punished and the bird accorded a magnificent funeral. The Raven builds its nest in high trees and among inaccessible and precipitous rocks, especially in the Hebrides, and lives on carrion, not disdaining fruit and grain. Like many other birds who afterwards show little concern for their young the Raven is a.s.siduous in its attentions during the period of incubation. The following is from White's "Natural History of Selborne":

"In the centre of a grove near Selborne, there stood an oak, which though shapely and tall on the whole, bulged out into a large excrescence near the middle of the stem. On the tree a pair of ravens had fixed their residence for such a series of years, that the oak was distinguished by the name of the 'raven tree,' Many were the attempts of the neighbouring youths to get at this eyrie; the difficulty whetted their inclinations, and each was ambitious of surmounting the arduous task; but, when they arrived at the swelling, it jutted out so much in their way, and was so far beyond their grasp, that the boldest lads were deterred, and acknowledged the undertaking to be too hazardous. Thus the ravens continued to build nest after nest, in perfect security, till the fatal day arrived on which the wood was to be levelled. This was in the month of February, when these birds usually sit. The saw was applied to the trunk, the wedges were inserted in the opening, the woods echoed to the heavy blows of the beetle or mallet, the tree nodded to its fall; but the dam persisted to sit. At last, when it gave way, the bird was flung from her nest; and though her maternal affection deserved a better fate, was whipped down by the twigs, which brought her dead to the ground." Ravens are said to pair for life and to live for a hundred years.

Unnatural Parents.

Though models of conjugal fidelity, Ravens are said to be very unnatural parents, often showing not only indifference but cruelty to their young.

Mr. Morris in his "Anecdotes of Natural History" tells an interesting story of a family of ravens whose mother came to an untimely death. "For a time the surviving parent hovered about the nest, uttering loud and menacing croakings whenever anybody approached. At length, however, he disappeared, and absented himself for two or three days, and then returned with another mate, when a strange scene occurred. The poor half-starved nestlings were attacked without mercy by the step-mother, who, after severely wounding, precipitated them from the nest; two, however, were found at the foot of the tree with signs of life, and with great care and attention reared at the rectory, about half a mile distant, and after being slightly pinioned, were allowed their liberty; but they seldom quitted the lawn or offices, roosting in a tree in the shrubbery. Here, however, they were soon discovered by their unnatural parents, who for a long time used to come at early dawn and pounce upon them with fierce cries." In this case it was the step-mother and not the mother that treated the young ravens so unkindly, and the father may be charitably credited with acting under the influence of his second wife.

That the Raven drives its young out of its nest as soon as they are able to provide for themselves is true, but why they should pursue them after they have become independent is not clear. This habit of the ravens, as Mr. Morris points out, may be referred to in the following quotations: "He giveth to the beast his food, and to the young ravens which cry"

(Psalm CXLVII. 9). "Who provideth for the raven his food? when his young ones cry unto G.o.d, they wander for lack of meat" (Job x.x.xVIII. 41).

The Tame Raven.

The Raven may be easily tamed, and in private life is always an amus.e.m.e.nt, if sometimes an annoyance. Like all birds which are capable of imitating sounds and which learn words and phrases it will often "speak its lines," with startling appropriateness as to time and place.

Captain Brown tells a good story of a Raven which belonged to a gentleman who resided on the borders of the New Forest in Hampshire. On one occasion a traveller who was pa.s.sing through the forest was startled by the frequent repet.i.tion of the words: "Fair play, gentlemen! fair play! for G.o.d's sake, gentlemen, fair play!" and upon tracing the source of the sound discovered the tame raven defending himself from the attacks of two of his own species. It is needless to say that the traveller rescued the "gentleman" from the two "ruffians" who molested him. Captain Brown also tells of a tame raven who was an expert rat-catcher and whose method was to place a meat bone in front of a rat hole and to stand on a ledge above the hole, pouncing on the rat as soon as he emerged from his retreat. In this way he captured as many as six in a fore-noon.

The Raven and the Dog.

Dr. Stanley tells the following story of a Raven and a Dog: "A strong attachment was once formed between a raven and a large otter-dog. The raven had been taken when young, and reared in a stable-yard, where the dog was kept chained up. A friendship soon commenced, which, increasing from little to more, in time ripened into a most extraordinary degree of intimacy. At first the bird was satisfied with hopping about in the vicinity of the kennel, and occasionally pecking a hasty morsel from the dog's feeding-pan when the latter had finished his meal. Finding, however, no interruption on the part of his friend, the raven soon became a constant attendant at meal times, and, taking up his position on the edge of the dish, acted the part of a regular guest and partaker of the dog's dinner, which consisted usually of meal and milk, with occasional sc.r.a.ps of offal meat, a piece of which the bird would often s.n.a.t.c.h up, almost from the very mouth of the dog, and hasten beyond the reach of his chain, as if to tantalise his four-footed friend; and then hopping towards him, would play about, and hang it close to his nose; and then as speedily, at the moment the dog was preparing to snap it up, would dart off beyond the reach of the chain. At other times he would hide the piece of meat under a stone, and then coming back, with a cunning look, would perch upon the dog's head. It was observed, however, that he always ended his pranks by either sharing or giving up the whole piece to his friend the dog. By some accident the raven had fallen into a tub of water, and, either weakened by struggling, or unable to get out owing to its feathers being soaked with water, it was nearly drowned.

The dog (whether the same dog or another does not appear), chained at a short distance, saw the poor bird's danger, and dragging his heavy kennel towards it, reached his head over the side of the tub, and taking the drowning raven up in his mouth, laid him gently on the ground, when he soon recovered."