There is a beautiful verse in the thirty-second chapter of Deuteronomy, in which G.o.d compares His care for His people to the way in which the eagle cares for its young ones, and teaches them to fly.

I do not know whether you know many of the second group, the Perching-birds; but I am sure you have seen parrots, and heard them too.

These clever, gay birds must look beautiful indeed in their forest home in tropical countries, as they flash and gleam in the sunshine; but their screaming--you know what it is like if you have ever paid them a visit at the Zoo--takes something away from their charm. They have been called "feathered monkeys," because they are so well able to climb trees. Look at their dark grey toes, and you will see that two of them are turned forward and two backward, so as to enable them to take a firm hold upon branch or twig. They have such hard bills because they live upon nuts and seeds. You have seen how Polly holds a nut, and sh.e.l.ls it with the sharp point of her beak, keeping her eye on you all the time.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "FEATHERED MONKEYS."]

Perhaps you would not think it, but parrots are affectionate birds. A story is told of one that was very fond of a servant girl in the house where he lived. When she had a bad finger he would not leave her, and groaned as he sat beside her bed, as if he were himself in pain; and when she recovered he became quite cheerful again. But I think the account which Dr. Franklin gives of the kindness of a parrot to its mate is more interesting still.

He says he knew two parrots who had lived together four years, when the female became so ill from gout that she could not get down from her perch to reach her food. For four months the male bird went on carrying the food to her in his beak; and when at last she fell from her perch through weakness, he kept constantly near her, trying to raise her, and showing the greatest care for her.

When she could no longer eat, he tried in vain to open her beak, so as to give her food, uttering sad cries; or stood with his eyes fixed on her, mournful and silent. From the time of her death he pined away, and died a few weeks afterwards.

Such stories are very beautiful, because they show, as a lover of animals once said, "what kindness G.o.d has put into the heart of His creatures."

Of the Scratching birds, there is none which you know so well as the hen; indeed this group is often called by a Latin name, which means that all belonging to it are of the hen tribe.

Our fowls come from India, but they have been at home in this country for a long time, and are very common in Palestine. If you have ever seen a mother-hen taking care of her chicks, calling them to her when she fears any danger for them, and hiding them beneath her soft warm wings, you will better understand the words which the Lord Jesus spoke when He beheld Jerusalem, the beloved city, and wept over it. Think of these words when you hear the hen call her chickens, and see them all come running to her, and hiding away under her wings, to be kept in safety from some foe which _you_ cannot see, but which _she_ knows to be lurking near, or perhaps hovering above, ready to pounce upon a stray chick and carry it off.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HARK!]

You may often see the Turkeys, Pheasants, Peac.o.c.ks, and other birds of this Hen-family, scratching up the gravel; and you know, I daresay, that grain-eating birds have a little mill inside them called a gizzard, which grinds their food for them. Birds of prey have no gizzards, because their food does not need to be ground before they can digest it.

The Wading-birds have long bare legs because they live in marshy places, and long necks and beaks to catch the small animals upon which they feed.

Snipe and Woodc.o.c.k have long tapering bills which are alive to the very points with what are called nerves, so that they may be able to feel for worms as they dig for them in the soft sand and mud, where they cannot see them. Two birds of this family, the Stork and the Crane, are mentioned in the Bible in connection with a wonderful power which G.o.d has given to some birds, by means of which they know when the time is come for them to leave a country where their food is over and gone, and where the winter is too cold for them, for a warmer land, where they may find food convenient for them, and from which they will know right well how to come back again when spring returns, with its food and foliage. Such birds are called birds of pa.s.sage; the Swallow is the one you know best, and it also is mentioned in the verse in which so many migratory birds are grouped together, "The stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times; and the turtle and the crane and the swallow observe the time of their coming." It is G.o.d who bids these birds "observe the time of their coming": no one knows why they go south for the winter, nor how they can tell their way over land and sea, and come back again to the very place from whence they took their flight.

The Stork must be to the People in Palestine just such a "guest of summer"

as the swallow is with us, for it regularly arrives about the end of March, and flies away in the autumn.

Ships make their long voyages to the other end of the world and back with wonderful regularity, but though the helmsman has a compa.s.s to guide him, they do not arrive in port so exactly at their appointed time as the little swallow, who has only the sense which we call "instinct" to guide it; only its own light, strong wings to carry it on its swift way, flying a mile a minute--for even to its little bones and feathers, every part of its body is filled with air, rendering it the most buoyant of winged creatures.

I met with a beautiful pa.s.sage about migratory birds in a book I was reading lately. The writer says, "Were they planets revolving round the sun, their arrival could hardly be more accurately calculated by the astronomer.... The little birds are guided in their flight through the waste, lone wilderness of the sky, and over wide seas, without a compa.s.s or a map or a path, by His counsel and will. And they obey that guidance without the slightest inclination to swerve from it or seek a way of their own....

"Migratory birds pa.s.sing from Africa to Europe over the sea, often alight on ships bound in that direction. Not unfrequently ship-captains tell us that they have seen birds of prey, hawks, and owls, appearing on the masts on such occasions in the company of swallows, goldfinches, and chaffinches; and yet the cruel birds never touched the innocent ones. The migratory instinct seems to subdue for a season the predatory instinct."

I want to tell you more about swallows, and especially a true but sad story of a tame one; but first we will speak of one more group, the Swimming-birds. You may have often noticed a duck's foot, and seen how the "web," or skin between the toes, can be folded up like a fan; or spread out, when the bird is swimming; Geese, Swans, Sea-gulls, the beautiful great Albatross, all these and a great many more of this family; they have a kind of water-wing, which cleaves its way through the streams, and most of them can also fly, although they are heavy birds. I have seen a flock of grey geese sailing on the sea, and the same flock at sunset coming home by a quicker way, looking like dark specks against the evening sky; but it is only wild geese that will fly so far.

Now then, we have had five groups. Let us count them. Birds of Prey, Perching birds, Scratching birds, Wading birds, Swimming birds, and I think I must add one more; for the Pa.s.serine, or Sparrow group includes most of the small birds, such as blackbirds and thrushes, nightingales and swallows, larks and magpies, linnets and humming-birds, and I cannot tell how many more "feathered fowl."

[Ill.u.s.tration: FISHING.]

Our story of a tame swallow must follow. There are four kinds of swallows--the Swift, the Chimney-swallow, the House-martin, and the Sand-martin; they all look much alike when on the wing, but there are differences, especially in the sort of nest which they build. The house-martin makes its nest of mud, lined with gra.s.s or feathers, against the side of a house, and there lays its beautiful white eggs.

A pair of martins built their cosy nest one summer beneath the eaves of a house in the country, just under the window of one of the bedrooms.

Swallows rear two broods every season, and one brood was reared successfully in this nest, but the second was not so fortunate. Late in September--and you know the swallows are off to Africa in October--a servant found a poor little shivering bird on the steps. It was plain that it had tried to fly from the nest, with its brothers and sisters, but had not been strong enough. The poor birdie seemed almost dead when it was picked up, but in the family there was a lady who loved "all things both great and small," and she fed the tiny martin, and made a bed for it in a work basket lined with wool. She was delighted when she saw it tuck its head under its wing, puff out its little feathers, and settle itself to sleep in her basket as cosily as if it had been at home in its parents'

nest, and she began to think that she might be able to keep this little deserted bird in an English home while all the other swallows had gone over sea for the winter.

I need not tell you that the little martin gave plenty of trouble and anxiety in his rearing; but at last he got on so well that he was allowed to go out in the garden, and sit upon his mistress's hand, while he feasted on any spider, gnat, or fly which was caught for him. It must have been a pretty sight to see the fondness of this pet bird for the kind friend who had saved its life. He could not bear to be away from her, but would sit on her shoulder while she was at work or writing, and sometimes nestle under her chin; tiresome enough in his tricksy ways of pulling at her thread and s.n.a.t.c.hing at her paper, but still always borne with, because he was such a pet.

One day when his mistress was going out for a long walk, and intended to leave her bird behind, he insisted on going too. And go he did, perched upon her finger; but on the way he became so clamorously hungry that she had to take him into a butcher's shop, and get some meat for his dinner.

She often wondered how long he would stay with her. The swallows had not yet gone; and sometimes he would look up and see crowds of them skimming through the air, and darting about overhead. He would watch them, even call to them and answer their wild cry, then sweep round the room in imitation of their rapid flight; but always came back again to his old place on her shoulder. At last, while there were still flies to be caught; be became so grown up as to begin to catch them for himself, though he had had no parent-bird to teach him; but still he was a tame swallow, liking to have his head stroked, and enjoying his morning bath like any canary.

After all the wild swallows were off to Africa, the little tame martin began to feel the cold. This wax what his mistress had been afraid would happen, and she tried in every way to keep her pet warm. She wrapped him in fur, and used to pack him warmly in a little box and take him to bed with her; but she was soon awakened by his creeping out of the box, and nestling under her chin. At sunrise he would career round and round her room, then fly downstairs and begin to make himself very much at home at breakfast, pecking at the b.u.t.ter, and standing upon the edges of the cups; but never so busy as not to dart to his mistress at the sound of her voice. Indeed he was so unhappy when away from her that she used even to take him railway journeys, because she did not like to leave him behind. This way of travelling, however, did not suit the little pa.s.senger-bird, for he was always in a fright, and glad to get home again. But many a country walk he took with his mistress, perched on her shoulder or her wrist, much to the wonder of the country-folk, who used to crowd around and ask questions about such a rare bird as a tame swallow. Sometimes they would shake their heads and say, "Well, well; did ever anyone see the like? I'll never shoot another swallow."

As the winter came, all these pleasant walks were over. The poor birdie began to droop; it was impossible to keep him warm, though he often crept under the parlour fender, to get as close to the fire as possible; and in spite of all that loving care could do, before the end of the year his bright little life had been lived, and all his clever tricks, and airy flights and loving ways were over.

The lady missed her pet sorely; and next summer when the low twittering of the swallows was heard again, as they came back to their old home to build once more, she watched them at their work with many a thought of her lost birdie.

This is why I said it was a sad story; but we must not forget that the lady really saved the life of the poor bird, when it had fallen from the nest.

If she had stolen it away from its parents, and tried to keep it in our cold country when they had gone to Africa, she would have blamed herself, and felt that she had been the cause of its death. It is cruel to take young birds from the nest, for it is a great grief to the parent-birds to lose their little ones; and it is so difficult to rear them, that they are almost sure to die, in spite of the great care you take of them. Some boys are fond of collecting birds' eggs, and know a great deal about them. A collection of eggs--of all sizes and of all shades of colour, from pure white to bluish green, or speckled grey--is a pretty sight; but if you go nesting, be careful not to spoil the beautiful little cradle which the parent-birds have made with such labour and care. And if you take one, or even two, eggs for your collection, be sure not to touch the others, or it may be that the birds will desert them. I well remember the delight of finding a robin's nest when I was a child; but my brothers and I were not allowed to touch the eggs. We were told they did not belong to us, and this certainly was nothing more than the truth.

It is beautiful to see G.o.d's care for all His creatures, especially the helpless ones. When He was teaching His chosen people in the olden times about things which are pleasing or displeasing to Him, He told them a good deal about how they were to treat the animals. You would hardly expect to find anything in the Bible about bird-nesting; and perhaps you might think that if a boy found a nest with eggs or young birds in it, he might take the young ones or the eggs, and if he chose he might take the mother-bird also.

But G.o.d said--

"Thou shalt not take the dam with the young: thou shalt in anywise let the dam go, and mayest take the young to thee, that it may be well with thee."

He who cares for the sparrow would not allow the mother-bird to suffer by perhaps seeing her little ones die while she was shut up in a cage, too fluttered and frightened to help them; and He would teach us to be merciful and tender-hearted towards those who cannot defend themselves or plead their own cause, "even as our Father in heaven is merciful."

I should like you to read in some nice book all about birds, a great deal about their ways, and especially about the clever nests they build, of which I have not time to tell you now. Also, I should like you to find out all you can for yourself. You may at least learn to know by sight and by sound some of our own songsters. It is often said that English birds have sober plumage; and so they have, compared with the parrots and the humming-birds that "flit about like living fires, scarce larger than a bee," and the wonderful bird of paradise, which the natives of New Guinea call "G.o.d's bird," because it shines with silver and gold--but still we have some very gay birds.

It is true that the goldfinch and the kingfisher are not often seen except in picture-books; but our own little robin is a real beauty, is he not? And what can be gayer than the feathers of some of our c.o.c.ks, which strut about so proudly? Then, the more you notice the songs of birds, the more you will admire them. The sweet notes begin before daylight in the spring-time, and the c.o.c.k-bird seems never tired of singing to his mate as she sits on her eggs. By and by, when they are busy with family cares, feeding the little ones, and teaching them to fly, there is not much time for singing. It is said that every bird has a different note or call. I wonder how many you know? I fancy I can guess: the c.o.c.k, the rook, the swallow, the thrush, the blackbird, the lark; if you do not know the notes or calls of all these, try to learn them.

Then, with regard to the nests; have you not seen rooks and cranes carrying in their mouths the twigs with which they build theirs in the top of very high trees? And have you not watched these nests swinging about in the wind, and wondered that they did not fall? Some of our birds build in holes of trees, some line their nests beautifully with any soft thing they can find; blackbirds and thrushes make theirs of mud. But instead of describing how the nests of our English birds are made, I will copy for you, out of Leslie's poetry-book, a little poem, which will help you to know where to search for the nests of different birds:--

"The skylark's nest among the gra.s.s And waving corn is found; The robin's in a shady bank, With oak-leaves strewed around.

"The wren builds in an ivied thorn Or old and ruined wall, The mossy nest so covered in You scarce can see at all.

"The martins build their nests of clay In rows beneath the eaves; The silvery lichens, moss, and hair The chaffinch interweaves.

"The cuckoo makes no nest at all, But through the wood she strays.

Until she finds one snug and warm, And there her eggs she lays.

"The sparrow has a nest of hay, With feathers warmly lined; The ringdove's careless nest of sticks On lofty trees we find.

"Rooks build together in a wood, And often disagree; The owl will build beside a barn, Or in a hollow tree.

"The blackbird's nest of gra.s.s and mud On bush and bank is found; The lapwing's darkly-spotted eggs Are laid upon the ground.

"The magpie's nest is made with thorns, In leafless tree or hedge; The wild duck and the water hen Build by the water's edge.

"Birds build their nests from year to year, According to their kind; Some very neat and beautiful, Some simpler ones we find.

"The habits of each little bird, And all its patient skill, Are surely taught by G.o.d Himself, And ordered by His will."

The other day I saw a lark's nest. It was made upon the ground; for it is true that

"The bird which soars on highest wing, Builds on the ground her lowly nest."