eyes, directing forwards, and surrounded with a circle of loose and
delicate feathers, more or less developed, according to the nocturnal or
comparatively diurnal habits of the species. The position of the eyes,
giving a particular fulness and breadth to the head, has gained for the
Owl the intellectual character so universally awarded to it. The concave
facial disc of feathers with which they are surrounded materially aids
vision by concentrating the rays of light to an intensity better suited
to the opacity of the medium in which power is required to be exercised.
"They may be compared," says Mr. Yarrell, "to a person near-sighted,
who sees objects with superior magnitude and brilliancy when within the
prescribed limits of his natural powers of vision, from the increased
angle these objects subtend." Their beaks are completely curved,
or raptorial; they have the power of turning the outer toe either
backwards or forwards; they fly weakly, and near the ground; but, from
their soft plumage, stealthily, stretching out their hind legs that they
may balance their large and heavy heads. Their sense of hearing is very
acute: they not only look, but listen for prey.
The Owl is a bird of mystery and gloom, and a special favourite with
plaintive poets. We find him with Ariel:--
"There I couch when Owls do cry."
He figures in the nursery rhyme of "Cock Robin." In reply to "Who dug
his grave?"--
"I, says the Owl, with my little shovel--
I dug his grave."
He hoots over graves, and his dismal note adds to the terror of
darkness:--
"'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,
And the Owls have awakened the crowing cock;
Tu-whit! tu-whoo!
And hark again the crowing cock,
How drowsily it crew.
. . . . . . . . .
"When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring Owl,
Tu-whoo!
Tu-whit! tu-whoo! _a merry note_,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot!"
Titania sings of
"The clamorous Owl, that nightly hoots and wonders
At our quaint spirits."
Bishop Hall has this "Occasional Meditation" upon the sight of an Owl in
the twilight:--"What a strange melancholic life doth this creature lead;
to hide her head all the day long in an ivy-bush, and at night, when all
other birds are at rest, to fly abroad and vent her harsh notes. I know
not why the ancients have _sacred_ this bird to wisdom, except it be for
her safe closeness and singular perspicuity; that when other domestrial
and airy creatures are blind, she only hath insured light to discern the
least objects for her own advantage." We may here note that Linnæus,
with many other naturalists and antiquaries, have supposed the Horned
Owl to have been the bird of Minerva; but Blumenbach has shown, from
the ancient works of Grecian art, that it was not this, but rather some
smooth-headed species, probably the _Passerina_, or Little Owl.
The divine has, in the above passage, overstated the melancholy of the
Owl; as has also the poet, who sings:--
"From yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping Owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign."
Shakspeare more accurately terms her "the mousing Owl," for her nights
are spent in barns, or in hunting and devouring sparrows in the
churchyard elms. "Moping, indeed!" says a pleasing observer. "So far
from this, she is a sprightly, active ranger of the night, who had as
lief sit on a grave as a rose-bush; who is as valiant a hunter as
Nimroud, chasing all sorts of game, from the dormouse to the hare and
the young lamb, and devouring them, while her mate hoots to her from
some picturesque ruin, and invites her, when supper is over, to return
to him and her babes."
But the tricks of the Owl by night render her the terror of all other
birds, great and small. In Northern Italy, persons in rustic districts
which are well wooded, catch and tame an Owl, put a light chain upon her
legs, and then place her on a small cross-bar on the top of a high pole,
which is fixed in the earth. Half-blinded by the light, the defenceless
captive has to endure patiently the jeers and insults of the dastardly
tribes from the surrounding groves and thickets, who issue in clouds
to scream, chirp, and flit about their enemy. Some, trusting to the
swiftness of their wings, sweep close by, and peck at her feathers as
they pass, and are sometimes punished by the Owl with her formidable
beak for their audacity. Meanwhile, from darkened windows, sportsmen,
with fowling-pieces well charged with shot, fire at the hosts of birds,
wheeling, shrieking, screaming, and thickening around the Owl. All the
guns are fired at once, and the grass is strewn for many yards round
with the slain; while the Owl, whom they have been careful not to hit,
utters a joyous whoo! whoo! at the fate of her persecutors.
Major Head thus describes the _Biscacho_, or Coquimbo, a curious species
of Owl, found all over the pampas of South America:--"Like rabbits,
they live in holes, which are in groups in every direction. These
animals are never seen in the day, but as soon as the lower limb of
the sun reaches the horizon, they are seen issuing from the holes. The
Biscachos, when full-grown, are nearly as big as badgers, but their
head resembles a rabbit's, except that they have large bushy whiskers.
In the evening they sit outside the holes, and they all appear to be
moralizing. They are the most serious-looking animals I ever saw;
and even the young ones are grey-headed, wear moustachios, and look
thoughtful and grave. In the daytime their holes are guarded by two
little owls, which are never an instant away from their posts. As one
gallops by these owls, they always stand looking at the stranger, and
then at each other, moving their old-fashioned heads in a manner which
is quite ridiculous, until one rushes by them, when they get the better
of their dignified looks, and they both run into the Biscacho's hole."
Of all birds of prey, Owls are the most useful to man, by protecting his
corn-fields, or granaried provision, from mice and numberless vermin.
Yet, prejudice has perverted these birds into objects of superstition
and consequent hate. The kind-hearted Mr. Waterton says:--"I wish that
any little thing I could write or say might cause this bird to stand
better with the world at large than it has hitherto done; but I have
slender hope on this score, because old and deep-rooted prejudices are
seldom overcome; and when I look back into annals of remote antiquity,
I see too clearly that defamation has done its worst to ruin the whole
family, in all its branches, of this poor, harmless, useful friend of
mine."
The Barn Owl is common throughout Europe, known in Tartary, and rare in
the United States of America. In England it is called the Barn Owl, the
Church Owl, Gillihowlet, and Screech Owl; the last name is improperly
applied, as it is believed not to hoot, though Sir William Jardine
asserts that he has shot it in the act of hooting. To the screech
superstition has annexed ideas of fatal portent; "but," says Charlotte
Smith, "it has, of course, no more foreknowledge of approaching evil to
man than the Lark: its cry is a signal to its absent mate."
"If," says Mr. Waterton, "this useful bird caught its food by day
instead of hunting for it by night, mankind would have ocular
demonstration of its utility in thinning the country of mice; and it
would be protected and encouraged everywhere. It would be with us what
the Ibis was with the Egyptians. When it has young, it will bring a
mouse to the nest every twelve or fifteen minutes." Mr. Waterton saw his
Barn Owl fly away with a rat which he had just shot; he also saw her
drop perpendicularly into the water, and presently rise out of it with a
fish in her claws, which she took to her nest.
Birds and quadrupeds, and even fish, are the food of Owls, according to
the size of the species. Hares, partridges, grouse, and even the turkey,
are attacked by the larger Horned Owls of Europe and America; while
mice, shrews, small birds, and crabs suffice for the inferior strength
of the smaller Owls. Mr. Yarrell states that the Short-eared Owl is the
only bird of prey in which he ever found the remains of a bat.
William Bullock reports that a large Snowy Owl, wounded on the Isle of
Baltoc, disgorged a young rabbit; and that one in his possession had in
its stomach a sandpiper with its feathers entire. It preys on lemmings,
hares, and birds, particularly the willow-grouse and ptarmigan. It is
a dexterous fisher, grasping the fish with an instantaneous stroke of
the foot as it sails along near the surface of the water, or sits on
a stone in a shallow stream. It has been seen on the wing pursuing an
American hare, making repeated strokes at the animal with its foot. In
winter, when this Owl is fat, the Indians and white residents in the Fur
Countries esteem it to be good eating; its flesh is delicately white.
Small snakes are the common prey of this Owl during the daytime. And to
show on what various kinds of food Owls subsist, Mr. Darwin states that
a species that was killed among the islets of the Chonos Archipelago had
its stomach full of good-sized crabs. Such are a few of the facts which
attest the almost omnivorous appetite of the Owl.
The flight of the Snowy Owl is stronger and swifter than any other
bird of the family; its ears are very large; its voice (says Pennant)
adds horror even to the regions of Greenland by its hideous cries,
resembling those of a man in deep distress. The eye is very curious,
being immovably fixed in its socket, so that the bird, to view different
objects, must always turn its head; and so excellently is the neck
adapted to this purpose, that it can with ease turn the head round
in almost a complete circle, without moving the body. The Virginian
Eagle-Owl, amidst the forests of Indiana, utters a loud and sudden
_Wough O! wough O!_ sufficient to alarm a whole garrison; another of its
nocturnal cries resembles the half-suppressed screams of a person being
suffocated or throttled.
The Javanese Owl is found in the closest forests, and occasionally near
villages and dwellings. Dr. Horsfield says:--"It is not, however, a
favourite with the natives; various superstitious notions are also in
Java associated with its visits; and it is considered in many parts of
the island as portending evil." One of this species never visits the
villages, but resides in the dense forests, which are the usual resort
of the tiger. The natives even assert that the _Wowo-wiwi_ approaches
the animal with the same familiarity with which the jallack approaches
the buffalo, and that it has no dread to alight on the tiger's back. Dr.
Horsfield adds, that it has never been seen in confinement.
The Boobook Owl has the native name of Buck-buck, and it may be heard
in Australia every night during winter, uttering a cry corresponding
with that word. The note is somewhat similar to that of the European
_Cuckoo_, and the colonists have given it that name. The lower order of
settlers in New South Wales are led away by the idea that everything
is the reverse in that country to what it is in England; and the
_Cuckoo_, as they call this bird, singing by night, is one of the
instances which they point out.
Tame Owls are described as nearly as playful, and quite as affectionate,
as kittens; they will perch upon your wrist, touch your lips with their
beak, and hoot to order; and they are less inclined to leave their
friends than other tame birds. A writer in "Chambers's Journal" relates,
that a friend lost his favourite Owl, which flew away, and was absent
many days. In time, however, he came back, and resumed his habits and
duties, which, for a while, went on uninterruptedly. At length, one
severe autumn, he disappeared; weeks, months passed, and he returned
not. One snowy night, however, as his master sat by the blazing fire,
some heavy thing came bump against the shutters. "Whoo, whoo, whoo."
The window was opened, and in flew the Owl, shaking the thick snow from
his wings, and settling lovingly on his master's wrist, the bird's eyes
dilating with delight.
The Owls at Arundel Castle have a sort of historic interest; they
are kept within the circuit of the keep-tower, the most ancient and
picturesque portion of the castle. Among the Australian Owls here we
read of one larger than a turkey, measuring four feet across the wings
when expanded. The Owl named "Lord Thurlow," from his resemblance to
that Judge, is a striking specimen.
The accompanying illustration shows a fine specimen of Fraser's
Eagle-Owl, brought from Fernando Po. It is the size of an ordinary
fowl; colour, very dark reddish-brown mottling; back and wings passing
through all shades of the same colour into nearly white on the under
parts, where the feathers are barred; bill, pale greenish; eyes, nearly
black.
[Illustration: FRASER'S EAGLE-OWL, FROM FERNANDO PO.]
Among the Owls but recently described is the Masked Owl of New Holland,
named from the markings of the disk of the face, somewhat grotesque;
the colours are brown variegated with white. A fine specimen of the
Abyssinian Owl is possessed by Mr. R. Good, of Yeovil: the bird,
although quite young, is of immense size.
Lastly, the Owl is thought to be of the same sympathy or kindred likings
as the Cat: a young Owl will feed well, and thrive upon fish. Cats, too,
it is well known, like fish. Both the Cat and the Owl, too, feed upon
mice. The sight of Owls, also, similar to that of Cats, appears to serve
them best in the dark.
WEATHER-WISE ANIMALS.
Whatever may be the worth of weather prognostications, it is from the
animal kingdom that we obtain the majority. How these creatures become
so acutely sensible of the approach of particular kinds of weather is
not at present well understood. That in many cases the appearance of
the heavens is not the source from which their information is derived
is proved by the signs of uneasiness frequently expressed by them when,
as yet, the most attentive observer can detect no signs of change,
and even when they are placed in such circumstances as preclude the
possibility of any instruction from this quarter. For instance. Dogs,
closely confined in a room, often become very drowsy and stupid before
rain; and a leech, confined in a glass of water, has been found, by
its rapid motions or its quiescence, to indicate the approach of wet
or the return of fair weather. Probably the altered condition of the
atmosphere with regard to its electricity, which generally accompanies
change of weather, may so affect their constitution as to excite in
them pleasurable or uneasy sensations; though man is far from insensible
to atmospheric changes, as the feelings of utter listlessness which
many persons experience before rain, and the aggravated severity of
toothache, headache, and rheumatism abundantly testify. The Cat licking
itself is a special influence of the above electric influence, which
denotes the approach of rain.
Birds, as "denizens of the air," are the surest indicators of weather
changes. Thus, when swallows fly high, fine weather is to be expected
or continued; but when they fly low, or close to the ground, rain is
almost surely approaching; for swallows follow the flies and gnats,
which delight in warm strata of air. Now, as warm air is lighter, and
usually moister than cold air, when the warm strata of air are high
there is less chance of moisture being thrown down from them by their
mixture with cold air; but when the warm and moist air is close to the
surface, it is almost certain that, as the cold air flows down into it,
a deposition of water will take place.
When Seagulls assemble on the land, very stormy and rainy weather is
approaching. The cause of this migration to the land is the security of
these birds finding food; and they may be observed at this time feeding
greedily on the earth-worms and larvæ driven out of the ground by severe
floods; whilst the fish on which they prey in fine weather in the sea,
leave the surface, and go deeper in storms. The search after food is
the principal cause why animals change their places. The different
tribes of the wading birds always migrate when rain is about to take
place.
There is a bird which takes its name from its apparent agency in
tempests. Such is the Stormy Petrel, which name Hawkesworth, in his
"Voyages," mentions the sailors give to the bird, but explains no
further. Navigators meet with the Little Petrel, or Storm Finch, in
every part of the ocean, diving, running on foot, or skimming over the
highest waves. It seems to foresee the coming storm long ere the seamen
can discover any signs of its approach. The Petrels make this known by
congregating together under the wake of the vessel, as if to shelter
themselves, and they thus warn the mariner of the coming danger. At
night they set up a piercing cry. This usefulness of the bird to the
sailor is the obvious cause of the latter having such an objection to
their being killed.
Mr. Knapp, the naturalist, thus pictures gulls, describing the Petrel's
action:--"They seem to repose in a common breeze, but upon the approach
or during the continuation of a gale, they surround the ship, and catch
up the small animals which the agitated ocean brings near the surface,
or any food that may be dropped from the vessel. Whisking like an arrow
through the deep valleys of the abyss, and darting away over the foaming
crest of some mountain-wave, they attend the labouring barque in all
her perilous course. When the storm subsides they retire to rest, and
are seen no more."
Our sailors have, from very early times, called these birds "Mother
Carey's Chickens," originally bestowed on them, Mr. Yarrell tells us, by
Captain Cartaret's sailors, probably from some celebrated ideal hag of
the above name. Mr. Yarrell adds:--"As these birds are supposed to be
seen only before stormy weather, they are not welcome visitors," a view
at variance with that already suggested.
The Editor of "Notes and Queries" considers the Petrels to have been
called _chickens_ from their diminutive size. The largest sort, "the
Giant Petrel," is "Mother Carey's _Goose_;" its length is forty
inches, and it expands seven feet. The common kind are about the size
of a swallow, and weigh something over an ounce; length, six inches;
expansion, thirteen inches; these are Mother Carey's _chickens_
(_Latham_). It should be borne in mind that our language does not
restrict the term chickens to young birds of the gallinaceous class.
The Missel-bird is another bird of this kind: in Hampshire and Sussex
it is called the _Storm Cock_, because it sings early in the spring, in
blowing, showery weather.
Petrels, by the way, are used by the inhabitants of the Faroe Islands as
lamps: they pass a wick through their bodies which, when lighted, burns
a long time from the quantity of fat they contain.
The Fulmar Petrel, in Boothia, follows the whale-ships, availing itself
of the labours of the fishermen by feeding on the carcases of the
whales when stripped of their blubber. In return the bird is exceedingly
useful to the whalers by guiding them to the places where whales are
most numerous, and crowding to the spots where they first appear on the
surface of the water.
Wild Geese and Ducks are unquestionably weather-wise, for their early
arrival from the north in the winter portends that a severe season is
approaching; because their early appearance is most likely caused by
severe frost having already set in at their usual summer residence. The
Rev. F. O. Morris, the well-known writer on natural history, records
from Nunburnholme, Yorkshire. December 5, 1864:--"This season, for the
first time I have lived here, I have missed seeing the flocks of Wild
Geese which in the autumnal months have heretofore wended their way
overhead, year after year, as regularly as the dusk of the evening came
on. Almost to the minute, and almost in the same exact course, they
have flown over aloft from the feeding-places on the Wolds to their
resting-places for the night; some, perhaps, to extensive commons, while
others have turned off to the mud-banks of the Humber, whence they have
returned with equal regularity in the morning.
"But this year I have seen not only not a single flock, but not even
a single bird. One evening one of my daughters did indeed see a small
flock of six, but even that small number only once. Whether it portends
a very hard winter, or what the cause of it may be, I am utterly at a
loss to know or even to guess. I quite miss this year the well-known
cackle of the old gander as he has led the van of the flock that has
followed him; now in a wide, now in a narrow, now in a short, now in a
long wedge, over head, diverging just from the father of the family, or
separating from time to time further back in the line.
"I may add, as a possible prognostication of future weather, that
fieldfares have, I think, been unusually numerous this year, as last
year they were the contrary. I have also remarked that swallows took
their departure this year more than ordinarily in a body, very few
stragglers being subsequently seen."
It will be sufficient to state that the mean temperature of January and
February was below that of the same month in the preceding year, and
that of March had not been so low for twenty years.
The opinion that sea-birds come to land in order to avoid an approaching
storm is stated to be erroneous; and the cause assigned is, that as the
fish upon which the birds prey go deep into the water during storms, the
birds come to land merely on account of the greater certainty of finding
food there than out at sea.
We add a few notes on Bird naturalists. The Redbreast has been called
_the Naturalist's Barometer_. When on a summer evening, though it be
unsettled and rainy, he sings cheerfully and sweetly on a lofty twig or
housetop, it is an unerring promise of succeeding fine days. Sometimes,
though the atmosphere be dry and warm, he may be seen melancholy
chirping and brooding in a bush or low in a hedge; this promises the
reverse. In the luxuriant forests of Brazil the Toucan may be heard
rattling with his large hollow beak, as he sits on the outermost
branches, calling in plaintive notes for rain.
When Mr. Loudon was at Schwetzingen, Rhenish Bavaria, in 1829, he
witnessed in the post-house there for the first time what he afterwards
frequently saw--an amusing application of zoological knowledge for the
purpose of prognosticating the weather. Two tree-frogs were kept in
a crystal jar about eighteen inches high and six inches in diameter,
with a depth of three or four inches of water at the bottom, and a
small ladder reaching to the top of the jar. On the approach of dry
weather the frogs mounted the ladder, but when moisture was expected
they descended into the water. These animals are of a bright green, and
in their wild state climb the trees in search of insects, and make a
peculiar singing noise before rain. In the jar they got no other food
than now and then a fly; one of which, Mr. Loudon was assured, would
serve a frog for a week, though it would eat from six to twelve flies in
a day if it could get them. In catching the flies put alive into the jar
the frogs displayed great adroitness.
Snails are extraordinary indicators of changes in the weather.
Several years ago, Mr. Thomas, of Cincinnati, known as an accredited
observer of natural phenomena, published some interesting accounts
of Weather-wise Snails. They do not drink (he observes), but imbibe
moisture in their bodies during rain, and exude it at regular periods
afterwards. Then a certain snail first exudes the pure liquid; when
this is exhausted, a light red succeeds, then a deep red, next yellow,
and lastly a dark brown. The snail is very careful not to exude more
of its moisture than is necessary. It is never seen abroad _except
before rain_, when we find it ascending the bark of trees and getting
on the leaves. The tree-snail is also seen ascending the stems of
plants _two days before rain_: if it be a long and hard rain they get
on the sheltered side of the leaf, but if a short rain the outside
of the leaf. Another snail has the same habits, but differs only in
colour: before rain it is yellow, and after it blue. Others show signs
of rain, not only by means of exuding fluids, but by means of pores and
protuberances; and the bodies of some snails have large tubercles rising
from them _before rain_. These tubercles commence showing themselves
ten days previous to the fall of rain they indicate; at the end of each
of these tubercles is a pore; and at the time of the fall of rain these
tubercles, with their pores opened, are stretched to their utmost to
receive the water. In another kind of snail, a few days before rain
appears a large and deep indentation, beginning at the head between
the horns, and ending with the jointure at the shells. Other snails,
a few days before the rain, crawl to the most exposed hill-side,
where, if they arrive before the rain descends, they seek some crevice
in the rocks, and then close the aperture of the shell with glutinous
substance; this, when the rain approaches, they dissolve, and are then
seen crawling about.