THE PEEWIT.
The Peewit, lapwing, or plover, belongs to the naturalist family of
_Gallatores_ or Waders, all of which are furnished with strong legs and
feet for walking, whilst all which inhabit watery places, or feed their
young amongst the waves, have legs sufficiently long to enable them to
wade; whence comes the family name.
The peewit, or lapwing, is a very interesting bird, from its peculiar
character and habits. Its plumage is handsome; the upper part of the
body of a rich green, with metallic reflections; the sides of the neck
and base of the tail of a pure white; the tail is black; so is the
top of the head, which is furnished with a long, painted crest, lying
backwards, but which can be raised at pleasure. In length the bird is
about a foot.
The peewit lives in all parts of this country, and furnishes one of
the pleasantly peculiar features of open sea-shores and wide moorland
wastes, in the solitudes of which, its incessant, plaintive cry has an
especially befitting sound, like the very spirit of the scene, moaning
in unison with the waves, and wailing over the wide melancholy of the
waste. Nevertheless, the peewit is not in itself mournful, for it is
a particularly lively and active bird, sporting and frolicking in the
air with its fellows, now whirling round and round, and now ascending
to a great height on untiring wing; then down again, running along the
ground, and leaping about from spot to spot as if for very amusement.
It is, however, with all its agility, a very untidy nest-maker; in
fact it makes no better nest than a few dry bents scraped together in
a shallow hole, like a rude saucer or dish, in which she can lay her
eggs—always four in number. But though taking so little trouble about
her nest, she is always careful to lay the narrow ends of her eggs in
the centre, as is shown in the picture, though as yet there are but
three. A fourth, however, will soon come to complete the cross-like
figure, after which she will begin to sit.
These eggs, under the name of plovers’ eggs, are in great request as
luxuries for the breakfast-table, and it may be thought that laid thus
openly on the bare earth they are very easily found. It is not so,
however, for they look so much like the ground itself, so like little
bits of moorland earth or old sea-side stone, that it is difficult to
distinguish them. But in proportion as the bird makes so insufficient
and unguarded a nest, so all the greater is the anxiety, both of
herself and her mate, about the eggs. Hence, whilst she is sitting, he
exercises all kinds of little arts to entice away every intruder from
the nest, wheeling round and round in the air near him, so as to fix
his attention, screaming mournfully his incessant _peewit_ till he has
drawn him ever further and further from the point of his anxiety and
love.
[Illustration:
PEEWITS AND NEST. [Page 52.
]
[Sidenote: _Stratagems of the Bird._]
The little quartette brood, which are covered with down when hatched,
begin to run almost as soon as they leave the shell, and then the poor
mother-bird has to exercise all her little arts also—and indeed the
care and solicitude of both parents is wonderful. Suppose, now, the
little helpless group is out running here and there as merry as life
can make them, and a man, a boy, or a dog, or perhaps all three, are
seen approaching. At once the little birds squat close to the earth,
so that they become almost invisible, and the parent-birds are on the
alert, whirling round and round the disturber, angry and troubled,
wailing and crying their doleful _peewit_ cry, drawing them ever
further and further away from the brood. Should, however, the artifice
not succeed, and the terrible intruder still obstinately advance in the
direction of the young, they try a new artifice; drop to the ground,
and, running along in the opposite course, pretend lameness, tumbling
feebly along in the most artful manner, thus apparently offering the
easiest and most tempting prey, till, having safely lured away the
enemy, they rise at once into the air, screaming again their _peewit_,
but now as if laughing over their accomplished scheme.
The young, which are hatched in April, are in full plumage by the end
of July, when the birds assemble in flocks, and, leaving the sea-shore,
or the marshy moorland, betake themselves to downs and sheep-walks,
where they soon become fat, and are said to be excellent eating.
Happily, however, for them, they are not in as much request for the
table as they were in former times. Thus we find in an ancient book
of housekeeping expenses, called “The Northumberland Household-book,”
that they are entered under the name of _Wypes_, and charged one penny
each; and that they were then considered a first-rate dish is proved by
their being entered as forming a part of “his lordship’s own mess,” or
portion of food; _mess_ being so used in those days—about the time,
probably, when the Bible was translated into English. Thus we find in
the beautiful history of Joseph and his brethren, “He sent messes to
them, but Benjamin’s mess was five times as much as any of theirs.”
Here I would remark, on the old name of _Wypes_ for this bird, that
country-people in the midland counties still call them _pie-wypes_.
But now again to our birds. The peewit, like the gull, may easily be
tamed to live in gardens, where it is not only useful by ridding them
of worms, slugs, and other troublesome creatures, but is very amusing,
from its quaint, odd ways. Bewick tells us of one so kept by the Rev.
J. Carlisle, Vicar of Newcastle, which I am sure will interest my
readers.
[Sidenote: _A Winter Visitor._]
He says two of these birds were given to Mr. Carlisle, and placed
in his garden, where one soon died; the other continued to pick up
such food as the place afforded, till winter deprived it of its usual
supply. Necessity then compelled it to come nearer the house, by
which it gradually became accustomed to what went forward, as well as
to the various members of the family. At length a servant, when she
had occasion to go into the back-kitchen with a light, observed that
the lapwing always uttered his cry of _peewit_ to gain admittance.
He soon grew familiar; as the winter advanced, he approached as far
as the kitchen, but with much caution, as that part of the house was
generally inhabited by a dog and a cat, whose friendship the lapwing
at length gained so entirely, that it was his regular custom to resort
to the fireside as soon as it grew dark, and spend the evening and
night with his two associates, sitting close to them, and partaking
of the comforts of a warm fireside. As soon as spring appeared he
betook himself to the garden, but again, at the approach of winter,
had recourse to his old shelter and his old friends, who received him
very cordially. But his being favoured by them did not prevent his
taking great liberties with them; he would frequently amuse himself
with washing in the bowl which was set for the dog to drink out of, and
whilst he was thus employed he showed marks of the greatest indignation
if either of his companions presumed to interrupt him. He died, poor
fellow, in the asylum he had chosen, by being choked with something
which he had picked up from the floor. During his confinement he
acquired an artificial taste as regarded his food, and preferred crumbs
of bread to anything else.
[Illustration]