_LITERATURE AND CORRESPONDENCE._
[Sidenote: _THE REV. MR. SMITH._]
A GREAT misfortune befell Edward in 1854: his friend the Rev. Mr. Smith
died. He was a man whose richly cultivated mind and warm heart endeared
him to all with whom he came in contact. He was almost the only man of
culture in the neighbourhood who appreciated the character of Edward.
He not only made himself his friend, but became his helper. Edward was
under the impression that people looked down upon him and his work,
because he was a poor shoemaker. There were other persons who knew of
Edward’s perseverance, self-denial, and uncomplainingness, and also of
his efforts to rise into a higher life. But they did not help him as
Mr. Smith did. The true Christian gentleman treated the poor man as
his friend. He treated him as one intelligent man treats another. The
shoemaker from Banff was always made welcome at the minister’s fireside
at Monquhitter.
Mr. Smith helped Edward with books. He lent him such books as he had,
from his own library; and he borrowed books from others, in order to
satisfy Edward’s inquiries about objects in Natural History.
He wandered about the fields with him, admiring his close observation;
and he urged him to note down the facts which he observed, in order
that they might be published to the world.
In one of the last letters addressed by Mr. Smith to Edward he
observed: “It is, I conceive, the great defect in the natural sciences
that we know so little of the real habits and instincts of the animal
creation. In helping to fill up this gap, your personal minute
and accurate observations will be of no little service; although
individuals, solemn and wise in their own conceit, may look upon some
of them as so strange as to be altogether fabulous; and _that_ for no
better reason than because during all their lives,—having exercised
their faculties only in eating, drinking, and sleeping,—the things
related have never come under the notice either of their eyes or their
ears.”
We find, from a letter of Professor Dickie, that Mr. Smith endeavoured
to obtain employment for Edward as a preserver of British birds
for the Natural History collection in King’s College, Aberdeen.
Many kindly letters passed between Edward and the minister of
Monquhitter, sometimes about newly-discovered birds; at other times
about the troubles and sicknesses of their respective families. Mr.
Smith’s suggestion that Edward should note down his observations for
publication was not, as we have seen, without effect, as the latter
afterwards became a contributor to the _Naturalist_, the _Zoologist_,
the _Ibis_, the _Linnæan Journal_, and other Natural History
publications.
[Sidenote: _THE PARTRIDGE._]
In one of Edward’s articles in the _Zoologist_, he thus refers to a
circumstance which happened during one of the last excursions he took
with his reverend friend. He is referring to the partridge (_Perdrix
cinerea_). “A very cunning and faithful mother is the female; for
when she has eggs, she never leaves her nest without hiding them so
carefully that it is almost impossible to detect their whereabouts; and
if you take her by surprise, away she hobbles on one leg, and a wing
trailing on the ground, as if wounded! . . . Wandering about the Waggle
Hill one day with my friend the Rev. Mr. Smith, I chanced to observe
a moor-fowl squatted on the ground amongst the heather, close to my
feet; in fact, I stood above her before I noticed her. Being summer
time, I at once guessed the nature of the case. On my friend coming up,
I drew his attention to the bird over which I stood. ‘Oh,’ he said,
‘she’s surely dead, Mr. Edward.’ ‘Oh, no,’ said I; ‘there are eggs or
young beneath her.’ ‘Well,’ he answered, ‘if so, it is certainly a
very wonderful circumstance, but we shall see.’ Then, stooping down,
he touched the bird, but she did not move. ‘She must be alive,’ he
said, ‘because she is warm; but she must be wounded, and not able to
rise or fly.’ ‘Oh, no,’ I once more said; ‘she has something beneath
her which she is unwilling to leave.’ The bird allowed him to stroke
her without moving, except turning her head to look at him. On my
friend’s dog Sancho coming up and putting his nose close to her, she
crept away through the bushes for some distance, and then took to
flight, leaving a nest and fifteen eggs exposed to our gaze. Before
leaving, we carefully closed up the heather again, so as to conceal as
much as possible the nest and its beauteous treasure; and I need not
say that we were both delighted with what we had seen. Mr. Smith was
particularly struck with the incident, as he had never seen anything of
the kind before; and he remarked, ‘I verily believe that I could not
have credited the fact if I had not seen it myself,’ and he afterwards
spoke of it with the greatest admiration.”
[Sidenote: _THE LOCH OF STRATHBEG._]
Edward also numbered among his friends the Rev. Alexander Boyd of
Crimond. It was through the Rev. Mr. Smith that Edward was first
introduced to him. Mr. Smith was anxious that Edward should examine and
observe the birds of Strathbeg, near which the village of Crimond is
situated. Crimond is about thirty-five miles from Banff, ten miles from
Peterhead, and about seven from Fraserburgh.
The loch of Strathbeg was at one time of limited extent. It was
connected with the sea at its eastern extremity; but a hill of sand
having, about the beginning of last century, been blown across the
opening during a furious east wind, the connection between the loch and
the sea was closed, and it became a fresh-water loch, as it remains to
this day. The scenery in the neighbourhood is by no means picturesque;
but the loch is very attractive to sportsmen, in consequence of the
number of wildfowl that frequent it, or which breed among the islands
and marshes at its western extremity.
[Sidenote: _THE REV. MR. BOYD._]
The Rev. Mr. Boyd was the parish minister of Crimond. His hospitable
manse was always open to Edward when he visited the neighbourhood. In
one of Mr. Boyd’s letters to Edward, he said, “We have exactly the sort
of room that will suit you, and you will be left at liberty to pursue
your researches at your convenience; the room being so situated that
you can go out or come in at any hour of the day or night, without any
one being the wiser. There will always be something in the cupboard
to refresh you before starting at daybreak, or when you come home
at night, though every one in the house may be asleep. And you may
continue with us the whole week, if you be so disposed. My coble will
always be at your service, and I hope to be able to accompany you on
some of your rambles, though I am not nearly so agile now as I have
been. . . . Mrs. Boyd is now quite well, though she had a long illness
after you were here;—and we have a young specimen of zoology to show
you, which is worth all the rare birds of Strathbeg put together!”
The number of water-fowl that Edward found about the loch was very
great. During winter time it was the haunt of birds from far and near,
in prodigious numbers. In summer time it was the breeding-place of
numerous birds of a different kind. The people of the neighbourhood
say that “all the birds of the world come here in winter.” In angry
weather, when the ocean is tempest-tossed, the sea-birds fly in, and,
mingling with the natives, constitute a very motley group. The number
of birds is so great that when a gun is fired they rise _en masse_, and
literally darken the air, whilst their noise is perfectly deafening.
[Sidenote: _BIRDS AT STRATHBEG._]
The swans are among the largest birds that frequent the loch. Edward
found the beautiful White Hooper (_Cygnus ferus_), and the no less
fair and elegant Polish Swan (_Cygnus immutabilis_). The geese were
innumerable: the Bean Goose (_Anser segetum_), the Pink-footed Goose
(_A. brachyrynchus_), the White-pointed Goose (_A. erythropus_),
the Barnacle Goose (_A. leucopsis_), the Brent Goose (_A. brenta_),
the Canadian Goose (_A. Canadensis_), and even the Egyptian Goose
(_A. Egyptiacus_). The last mentioned was first detected by Mr. Boyd
himself. In a letter to Edward, dated the 24th November 1853, he
said—“One morning lately I was informed that there was a strange bird
of the goose tribe in my mill-dam. I sallied forth with a telescope in
one hand and a double-barrel, loaded with No. 1, in the other. I first
took a leisurely look at him with the former at less than 100 yards
distance, when I made the following observations:—Size and appearance
that of a small wild goose; Head, brown and grey mixed; Back, rich
brown, lightish; Breast and neck, grey; Tail, dark or black; Tips of
Wings, ditto, and glossy; Legs and Bill, reddish; a dark ring round
the neck, and a dark spot right on the centre of the breast. He was
nibbling the tender grass on the dam banks. I then approached nearer.
Instead of flying, he merely swam away to the other side of the pond,
and seemed either very tired or else accustomed to the presence of man.
I was quite within shot of him, but, from his tameness, I conjectured
that he was some fancy animal escaped from a gentleman’s demesne. I
then went for some corn, and scattered it on the banks, and as soon as
I moved away he came to eat it. When startled, he generally makes a
circuit of a quarter of a mile and returns again; but latterly he goes
to the loch of Strathbeg all night and returns in the morning for his
corn. I am afraid he will not be spared long, although I have sent word
in several directions that he is not to be shot. I should be glad if
he would become domesticated. I wish you would look over some of your
books and tell me what he is. I have not seen a bird of the same kind
before.”
[Illustration: VILLAGE OF PENNAN.]
[Sidenote: _THE EGYPTIAN GOOSE._]
From Mr. Boyd’s minute description of the bird, Edward was enabled to
inform him that it could be nothing else than a specimen of that rare
species, the Egyptian Goose. After about two months’ sojourn in Mr.
Boyd’s mill-pond, the bird flew away on the day preceding the great
snow-storm of January 1854, and never returned. Mr. Boyd was afterwards
enabled to ascertain the correctness of Edward’s information. He was
in Liverpool, and while visiting a poulterer’s yard, he observed a
bird exactly like the one that had taken shelter in his mill-pond. On
inquiring its name, he was informed that it was an Egyptian Goose.
[Sidenote: _THE WINTER BIRDS._]
The Mallard, the Widgeon, the Teal, the Garganey, the Pintail, the
Ferruginous, the Harlequin, the Shoveler, the Shieldrake, and the
Eider Duck, visit the loch occasionally in winter. The ducks were ten
times more numerous than the geese. There were the Scaup (_Fuligula
marila_), the Tufted (_F. cristata_), the Red-headed Pochard or Dunbird
(_F. ferina_), and the Golden-eyed Garrot (_Clangula garrotta_). The
Red-necked Grebe and the Black-chinned Grebe also bred in the loch.
Herons, Bitterns, Spoon-bills, Glossy Ibises, Snipes, Woodcocks,
Green Sandpipers, Ruffs, Dotterels, Gray Phalaropes, were also to be
seen. These were the birds that mostly frequented the loch in winter.
There were numerous flocks of Gulls of various species, and other
shore-birds, which only made visits to the loch for shelter during
storms.
[Sidenote: _THE RING DOTTEREL._]
When spring approached the birds became restless. The flocks began
to break up, and flights of birds disappeared daily. At length the
greater part of the winter birds left, except a few stragglers. An
entirely different set of birds now began to make their appearance. You
could now hear the shrill whistle of the Redshank, the bright carol
of the Lark, the wire-like call of the Dunlin, the melancholy note of
the Wagtail, the boom of the Snipe, and the pleasant peewit of the
Lapwing. There were also the Black-headed Bunting, the Ring Dotterel,
the Wheatear, the Meadow Pipit, the Reed Warbler, the Rose Linnet,
the Twite, the Red-shank, the Black-headed Gull, and the Arctic Tern,
which bred in suitable localities round the loch. Among the remaining
birds, were several specimens of the Skua, Coots, Water-hens, Swifts,
and several kinds of Swallows. The Whimbrel, Greenshank, Water-Rail,
Pied Wagtail, Roseate Tern, and Water Ouzel, also frequented the
neighbourhood of the loch, but did not breed there.
In an account of “The Birds of Strathbeg,” which Edward afterwards
published in the _Naturalist_, he mentioned the curious manner in which
the Ring Dotterel contrives to divert attention from her nest.
[Sidenote: _A PURSUIT._]
While strolling along the sands in the month of July, a friend who was
with him fired at a Tern. Without knowing what he had fired at, Edward
saw a Ring Dotterel before him, which, he thought, must be the bird.
It was lame, and dragging its wing behind it as if it had been sorely
wounded. It lay down, as if dead. Edward came up, and put his hand
down to secure it. The bird rose and flew away. Then it dropped again,
hobbled and tottered about, as if inviting him to pursue it:—“I stood
a few seconds,” says Edward, “considering whether I would follow or
not; then off I started, determined to have it. Away went the bird,
twiddling and straddling, and away I followed in hot pursuit. Round and
round the sand hillocks we scrambled until I was perfectly wearied.
Nothing but the novelty of the affair could have kept me in pursuit of
the wounded bird.
“In this way we continued, until I saw that I could make nothing of
it by fair means; so I doubled round and met it fair in front. I was
about to take hold of it, when, to my amazement, it rose and flew. Its
flight, however, was of short duration, as it again suddenly dropped
down, and lay on the sand as if dead. ‘You are mine now at last,’ said
I, as I observed it fall. I accordingly proceeded to take it up, in
order to put it in my pocket. But lo, it rose again and flew away; when
once more it suddenly dropped behind one of the larger hillocks. It
was a beautifully-marked specimen, and, fearing lest I should lose it
altogether, I determined to put a stop to the wild-goose chase. Having
put my gun in readiness, I proceeded in the direction in which the bird
fell. But it did not rise. I searched all round, but there was no bird!
I met my friend, and inquired if he had fired at a Ring Dotterel. No,
he had only shot at a Tern. ‘But, by the by,’ he added, ‘I found a nest
and the young of that bird as I came along.’
[Sidenote: _THE PURSUIT DEFEATED._]
“In a few minutes we stood beside the young ones. The spot I found to
be only about three yards in advance of where my attention was first
attracted to the apparently wounded bird. Having collected the little
downy things, and placed them in a hollow among the sand, we again took
our departure. In doing so, what should we meet but my old friend the
Dotterel, which again commenced its former pranks! But no! It was too
late; the truth had oozed out. The bird had completely deceived me, and
my friend laughed heartily at my mistake.”
During one of Edward’s visits to Crimond Manse, to which some gentlemen
of the neighbourhood had been invited to meet him, Mr. Boyd, after
dinner, when the ladies had left the room, expressed his surprise
that something had not been done to enable Edward to obtain more time
to pursue his researches in Natural History. The gentlemen present
cordially agreed with him. Mr. Boyd then proposed to insert a notice in
the _Fraserburgh Advertiser_, and to circulate it extensively in the
neighbourhood. The following forms part of the article:—
[Sidenote: _MR. BOYD’S PROPOSAL._]
“During the past month our district has been visited by Mr. Edward from
Banff, a Naturalist of no mean attainments, and one who, we doubt not,
will soon bring himself into public notice, both by his indefatigable
researches into Natural Science, and his valuable contributions to
various scientific periodicals. . . . While there are few branches of
Natural History in which he does not take an interest, it is in
Ornithology that he shines most conspicuously, and in this he was much
encouraged by the late Rev. Mr. Smith of Monquhitter. . . . We cordially
wish Mr. Edward every success in the various fields of research upon
which he has entered. It is but justice to a most deserving person to
draw attention to his praiseworthy endeavours, in the midst of many
difficulties, to perfect his knowledge of Natural History, and to
recommend it to all around him, especially the young. Happy would it
be, if our tradesmen were to take a leaf out of Mr. Edward’s book, and
instead of wasting their time, squandering their means, and embittering
their existence in the haunts of dissipation, they would sally forth
in these calm summer evenings to rural scenes and sylvan solitudes, to
woo Nature in her mildest aspect—to learn a lesson from the moth or the
spider—to listen to the hum of the bee or the song of birds—to mark the
various habits and instincts of animals, and thus to enrich their minds
with useful and entertaining knowledge.”
Mr. Boyd’s object in publishing this notice was to attract the
attention of the working classes to the study of Natural History;
and with this object he was of opinion that Edward should endeavour
to disseminate amongst them the information which he had acquired
during his long experience. He proposed that Edward should get up a
series of rudimentary lectures on Natural History, illustrated by
specimens of birds and other objects. The lectures were first to be
delivered in Banff, and if they succeeded there, they were afterwards
to be delivered in Fraserburgh and other towns. Edward proceeded to
prepare his illustrations. About 200 were put in readiness. He was also
negotiating for the purchase of a powerful magnifying glass, so that
his patrons might better see the minute wonders of Nature as exhibited
in her works.
[Sidenote: _NATIVE GENIUS._]
As there was then an institution at Banff, which had been formed,
amongst other purposes, “For the Discovery and Encouragement of Native
Genius and Talent,” Mr. Boyd believed that the members would at once
give their hearty co-operation to his proposed scheme. He proposed the
formation of a local committee, in order that the rudimentary lectures
might be brought out under their patronage. Edward was requested to
name some gentlemen in Banff with whom Mr. Boyd might communicate on
the subject. This was a poser; for Edward knew only a few hard-working
men like himself. Nevertheless, he did give the name of a gentleman,
who, he thought, might give his assistance. When the gentleman was
applied to, he politely declined. Edward was asked to name another. He
named another, and he also declined. Thus the proposal, from which Mr.
Boyd had expected so much, fell to the ground, and it was no more heard
of.
[Sidenote: _DEATH OF MR. BOYD._]
Shortly after this event, Mr. Boyd died suddenly. Edward thus refers
to the event:—“It was but yesterday, at noon,[43] that my friend the
Rev. Mr. Boyd of Crimond,—while full of life and strength, and with
every prospect of enjoying many, many long years to come,—left his
young and courteous partner and two blooming little ones, to enjoy a
short walk with a neighbouring gentleman. Alas! short was the walk
indeed, and, woe is me! never to return. A few paces, and he dropped
down and almost instantly expired. Alas! another of my best friends
gone. Cruel death! if thy hand continues to strip me thus, thou wilt
soon, very soon, leave me desolate; and then who will take notice of
the poor Naturalist? Well may the parish of Crimond say, ‘We have
lost that which we may never again find.’ Well might Mercy weep, and
Religion mourn his premature departure, for in him they have lost a
friend on earth; and I, alas! a friend too, and a benefactor.”
Edward completed his article on “The Birds of Strathbeg” only two days
after Mr. Boyd’s death. It had been written out at his instance, and
was afterwards published in the _Naturalist_. It was one of the first
papers to which Edward subscribed his own name.
[Sidenote: _EDWARD’S CORRESPONDENTS._]
So soon as Edward’s name and address appeared in the _Naturalist_ and
_Zoologist_, he was assailed by letters from all parts of the country.
English dealers asked him to exchange birds with them. Private
gentlemen offered exchanges of moths and butterflies. Professors, who
were making experiments on eggs, requested contributions of eggs of
all kinds. A Naturalist in Norfolk desired to have a collection of
Sternums, or breast-bones, of birds. “I have no doubt,” says Edward,
“that many of my correspondents thought me unceevil, but really it
would have taken a fortune in postage-stamps to have answered their
letters.”
But although Edward received many applications from Naturalists in
different parts of the country, he himself applied to others to furnish
names for the specimens which he had collected. We find a letter from
Mr. Macdonald, secretary to the Elgin Museum, referring to eighty-five
Zoophytes which Edward had sent him to be named. Edward had no other
method of obtaining the scientific names for his objects. “The naming
of them,” said Mr. Macdonald, “has cost me some time and trouble. . . .
Some of the Zoophytes are fine specimens; others are both fine and
rare. One or two have not as yet been met with on our shores. They
seem to be quite new.” We also find Edward communicating with Mr.
H. E. Staunton, a well-known London Naturalist, relative to Moths,
Butterflies, Beetles, and other insects.
But Edward could not live on Zoophytes and Butterflies. His increasing
family demanded his attention; and shortly after his article on “The
Birds of Strathbeg” had appeared in the _Naturalist_, we find him
applying in different directions for some permanent situation. He was
willing to be a police officer, a tidewaiter, or anything that would
bring in a proper maintenance for his family. With this object, one
of his friends at Fraserburgh made an application to Mr. Charles W.
Peach, Comptroller of Customs at Wick. Mr. Peach was a well-known
Naturalist, and he has since become distinguished in connection with
recent discoveries in Geology. Mr. Peach had once visited Edward, in
company with Mr. Greive, the Customs Collector at Banff. In answer to
the application made to him from Fraserburgh, he said—
[Sidenote: _MR. PEACH’S LETTER._]
“_I do_ know our friend Mr. Edward of Banff, and I have thought a
great deal about him of late. I have wondered how he was getting on
in bread and porridge affairs. Oh, these animal wants! How often do
they ride rough-shod over the intellectual man, not so much on his
own account, as for those dependent on him. I have been thinking of
Edward’s excellent wife and her flock of seven girls, which I saw when
at Banff. They were all neat, and clean, and well cared for, in a wee
bit roomie—the walls covered with cases of birds. When we called,
there was a sweet cake and a glass of wine for myself and Mr. Greive.
I was unhappy at refusing his wine—for you know I am an out-and-out
teetotaller,—but I took his cake with thankfulness. And now, what can
I do for that good man and his wife and family?” . . .
Mr. Peach went on to say that a great many Glut-men were employed
at Wick harbour, to patrol the shore night and day, and prevent the
landing of brandy, tobacco, and other excisable articles; that he could
give Edward employment for a time at that work, but that it could not
be permanent. His age was beyond that which would allow of his being
appointed a tidewaiter. Mr. Peach added—“I will not lose sight of the
appointment of subcuratorship. This would be the very thing. If £40 or
£50 a year could be obtained, that would be glorious!”
[Sidenote: _RECOURSE TO SAVINGS BANK._]
These suggestions ended in disappointment. Edward could not remove to
Wick to accept a temporary appointment; and the subcuratorship could
not be obtained. He therefore went on with his old work—Natural History
and shoemaking. But he must have been pressed by the growing wants of
his family, as we find his collection of birds advertised for sale at
the beginning of 1855. Again he had recourse to his Savings Bank; and
again it relieved him,—though he parted with the results of his work
during many laborious years.
[Sidenote: _BIRDS OF BANFFSHIRE._]
He still went on writing for the periodicals. At the end of 1855 we
find an article of his in the _Zoologist_, entitled “Moth-hunting; or
an Evening in a Wood;” and in the following year he commenced in the
same periodical “A List of the Birds of Banffshire, accompanied with
Anecdotes.” The list was completed in eight articles, which appeared
in 1856 and the two following years. Although his publications were
received with much approval, they did not serve to increase his income,
for he never received a farthing for any of his literary contributions.
Before parting with Edward’s descriptions of birds, a few extracts
may be given from his articles in the _Zoologist_. And first, about
song-birds:—
“The Song Thrush or Mavis (_Turdus musicus_). Who is there that has
ever trod the weedy dale or whinny brake in early spring, and, having
heard the mellow voice of this musician of the grove, was not struck
with delight, and enchanted at the peculiar richness and softness of
his tones? For my own part, I must say that of all the birds which
adorn and enliven our woods, I love this one the most. There is to me a
sweetness in his song which few if any of the other song-birds possess.
Besides, he is one of the first to hail with his hymn of praise the
young and opening year.
“Next to the Mavis the Lark or the Laverock is the bird for me, and has
been since I first learned to love the little warblers of the woods
and fields. How oft, oh! how oft, has the lark’s dewy couch been my
bed, and its canopy, the high azure vault, been my only covering, while
overtaken by night during my wanderings after nature; and oh! how sweet
such nights are, and how short they seem,—soothed as I have been to
repose by the evening hymn of the lark, and aroused by their early lays
at the first blink of morn.
[Sidenote: _THE FINCHES._]
“The Goldfinch is also a good singing bird. If any one wishes to
have a cage-bird to cheer him with its song, let him get a male
hybrid between this species and the canary, and I am sure he will
not be disappointed. . . . The Goldfinch’s nest is one of nature’s
masterpieces. What a beautiful piece of workmanship! how exquisitely
woven together! how light, compact, soft, and warm in its internal
lining! and how complete! What hand could imitate the woolly, feathery,
mossy, cup-formed, half-ball-like structure? How vain the attempt!
“The Bullfinch, though much admired as a cage-bird, cannot be said
to be much of a songster. It is kept more for its beauty than its
music, though it is sometimes able to ‘pipe’ a very pretty tune. Now,
with respect to its food. Great numbers of bullfinches are annually
destroyed by our gardeners and nurserymen because they are supposed to
be destructive. Now, it is a fact well known to ornithologists that,
although the sparrow, greenfinch, chaffinch, wren, bullfinch, and other
birds, do not themselves actually live on insects, yet these form the
chief food for their young. Such being the case, what an enormous
and countless number of noxious and destructive creatures must they
destroy! But we poor short-sighted mortals do not know this. We are all
in the dark as regards the good they do us. Let them meddle with any
of our seeds or fruits, and the hue and cry is, ‘Get guns and shoot
every one of them.’ I hope a better day will soon arise for these
lovely little birds, when they will be cherished and encouraged rather
than hated and destroyed.”
[Sidenote: _CROWS AND CRAB-SHELLS._]
The story is told of an ancient philosopher having been killed by
an eagle that dropped a tortoise upon his head for the purpose of
breaking its shell. The story seems to be confirmed by the practice
of the Carrion and Hooded Crows, thus described by Edward:—“They are
to be found on certain parts of our coast all the year round. Our
keepers destroy them whenever the opportunity occurs. I wonder that
our fishermen do not destroy them also, as they feed upon a certain
crustacean (_Carcinus mænas_) which is often used for bait. One would
think that the crab’s shell would be proof against the crow; but no!
He goes aloft with the crab, and lets it fall upon a stone or a rock
chosen for the purpose. If it does not break, he seizes it again, goes
up higher, lets it fall, and repeats his operation again and again
until his object is accomplished. When a convenient stone is once met
with, the birds resort to it for a long time. I myself know a pretty
high rock, that has been used by successive generations of crows for
about twenty years!
[Sidenote: _THE HERON AND THE CROWS._]
“Besides being fond of crabs, these carrion crows are fond of fish,
and though they are good fishers themselves, they seldom lose an
opportunity of assailing the Heron when he has made a successful dive.
They rush at him immediately, and endeavour to seize his food from
him. Early in the summer of 1845, whilst loitering about the hills
of Boyndie, I observed a Heron flying heavily along, as if from the
sea—that rich and inexhaustible magazine of nature—and pursued by a
Carrion Crow, followed at some distance by two Magpies. They had not
proceeded far when two Hooded Crows made their appearance and quickly
joined their black associate. The heron had by this time got into an
open space between two woods, and it would appear that his enemies
intended to keep him there until he had satisfied their demands. During
the whole time that the affray lasted, or nearly half an hour, they did
not suffer him to proceed above a few yards in any way, either backward
or forward, his principal movements being in ascending or descending
alternately, in order to avoid the assaults of his pursuers. Having
chosen their battle-ground, I crept behind a whin-bush, from whence I
had an uninterrupted view of the whole affair.
[Sidenote: _THE HERON ATTACKED._]
“The manœuvring of the crows with the heron was most admirable. Indeed,
their whole mode of procedure had something in it very remarkable.
So well did each seem to understand his position, that the one never
interfered with the other’s point of attack. One, rising higher than
the heron, descended upon him like a dart, aiming the blow in general
at his head; another at the same time pecked at him sideways and from
before; whilst the third assailed him from beneath and behind. The
third crow, which pecked at him from behind, seized hold of the heron’s
feet, which being extended at full length backwards, formed a very
tempting and prominent object for the crow to fix on. This movement had
the effect, each time, of turning the heron over, which was the signal
for a general outburst of exultation among the three black rogues,
manifested by their louder cawings and whimsical gesticulations,—no
doubt laughing (if crows can laugh) at seeing their opponent turning
topsy-turvy in the air, which, from his unwieldy proportions, was
rather a comical sight.
[Sidenote: _THE HERON ROBBED._]
“During one of his sommersaults, the heron disgorged something, but,
unfortunately for him, it was not observed by any of the crows. When
it fell to the ground, the magpies, which were still chattering about,
fell upon it and devoured it. Finding no relief from what he had
dropped, and being still hard pressed, he again disgorged what appeared
to be a small fish. This was noticed by one of the hooded crows, who
speedily descended, picked it up, and made off with it, leaving his two
companions to fight the battle out. The heron, having now got rid of
one of his pursuers, determined to fly away in spite of all opposition.
But his remaining assailants, either disappointed at the retreat of
their comrade, or irritated at the length of the struggle, recommenced
their attack with renewed vigour. So artfully did they manage, that
they kept the heron completely at bay, and baffled all his endeavours
to get away. Wearied at last of the contest, he once more dropped
something, which, from its length, seemed to be an eel. On its being
observed by his opponents, they quickly followed it. In their descent,
they fell a fighting with each other. The consequence was that the eel,
falling to the ground, was set upon by the magpies. The crows gave
up fighting, descended to the ground, and assailed the magpies. The
latter were soon repulsed. Then the crows seized hold of the eel with
their bills, and kept pulling at it until eventually it broke in two.
Each kept hold of its portion, when they shortly rose up and flew away
amongst the trees. In the meantime, the heron was observed winging his
way in the distance; sick at heart, because he had been plundered by
thieves, and robbed of the food which he had intended for his family.”
[Sidenote: _CROWS, HARES, AND RABBITS._]
The Carrion and Hooded Crows also attack hares and rabbits. “Whilst
walking one morning along the Deveron with a friend, our attention was
attracted by what seemed to us to be the faint cries of a child in
distress. On looking in the direction from which the sounds proceeded,
we beheld two crows pursuing and tormenting a hare, by every now and
then pouncing down upon it. Each blow seemed to be aimed at the head;
and each time that one was given the hare screamed piteously. The blows
soon had the effect of stupifying the creature. Sometimes they felled
it to the ground. We eventually lost sight of the crows, but doubtless
they would at last kill and devour the hare. I remember, while out on
the hills at Boyndie, witnessing another though a less daring attack.
Concealed amongst some trees and bushes, waiting for a Cuckoo which
I expected to pass, I observed a half-grown rabbit emerge from some
whins, and begin to frolic about close by. Presently down pops a
Hoodie, and approaches the rabbit, whisking, prancing, and jumping. He
seemed to be most friendly, courteous, and humoursome to the little
rabbit. All of a sudden, however, as if he meant to finish the joke
with a ride, he mounts the back of the rabbit. Up springs the latter,
and away he runs. But short was his race. A few sturdy blows about the
head, from the bill of the crow, laid him dead in a few seconds.”
By the year 1858 Edward had accumulated another splendid collection.
It was his third, and probably his best. The preserved birds were in
splendid order. Most of them were in their natural condition—flying,
or fluttering, pecking or feeding,—with their nests, their eggs,
and sometimes their young. He had also a large collection of
insects—including many rare beetles,—together with numerous Fishes,
Crustaceans, Zoophytes, Molluscs, Fossils, and Plants.
[Sidenote: _COLD AND WHISKY._]
Although Edward still continued his midnight explorations, he felt
that he must soon give them up. Lying out at night cannot be long
endured in this country. It is not the cold, so much as the damp, that
rheumatises the muscles and chills the bones. When going out at night,
Edward was often advised to take whisky with him. He was told that if
he would drink it when he got wet or cold, it would refresh and sustain
him, and otherwise do him a great deal of good. Those who knew of his
night-wanderings, wondered how he could ever have endured the night
air and been kept alive without the liberal use of whisky. But Edward
always refused. He never took a drop of whisky with him,—indeed, he
never drank it either at home or abroad. “I believe,” he says, “that
if I had indulged in drink, or even had I used it at all on these
occasions, I could never have stood the cold, the wet, and the other
privations to which I was exposed. As for my food, it mainly consisted
of good oatmeal cakes. It tasted very sweet, and was washed down with
water from the nearest spring. Sometimes, when I could afford it, my
wife boiled an egg or two, and these were my only luxuries. But, as I
have already said, water was my only drink.”
[Sidenote: _EDWARD’S HEALTH FAILS._]
In 1858, Edward had reached his forty-fourth year. At this age, men who
have been kindly reared and fairly fed, are usually in their prime,
both of mind and body. But Edward had used himself very hardly; he had
spent so many of his nights out of doors, in the cold and the wet; he
had been so tumbled about amongst the rocks; he had so often, with
all his labours, to endure privation, even to the extent of want of
oatmeal,—that it is scarcely to be wondered at if, at that time, his
constitution should have begun to show marks of decay. He had been
frequently laid up by colds and rheumatism. Yet, when able to go out
again, he usually returned to his old courses.
At last his health gave way altogether. He was compelled to indulge in
the luxury of a doctor. The doctor was called in, and found Edward in
a rheumatic fever, with an ulcerated sore throat. There he lay, poor
man, his mind wandering about his birds. He lay for a month. He got
over his fever, but he recovered his health slowly. The doctor had a
serious talk with him. Edward was warned against returning to his old
habits. He was told that although his constitution had originally been
sound and healthy, it had, by constant exertion and exposure to cold
and wet, become impaired to a much greater degree than had at first
been supposed. Edward was also distinctly informed that if he did not
at once desist from his nightly wanderings, his life would not be worth
a farthing. Here, it appeared, was to be the end of his labours in
Natural History.
[Sidenote: _SELLS HIS COLLECTION._]
Next came the question of family expenditure and doctor’s bills. Edward
had been ill for a month, and the debts incurred during that time must
necessarily be paid. There was his only Savings Bank—his collection of
birds—to meet the difficulty. He was forced to draw upon it again.
Accordingly, part of it was sold. Upwards of forty cases of birds went,
together with three hundred specimens of mosses and marine plants, with
other objects not contained in cases. When these were sold, Edward
lost all hopes of ever being able again to replenish his shattered
collection.
Although Edward’s strength had for the most part been exhausted, his
perseverance was not. We shall next find him resorting to another
branch of Natural History, in which he gathered his most distinguished
laurels.
[Illustration: BAY OF BOYNDIE AND KNOCK HEAD, FROM BANFF LINKS.]
FOOTNOTES:
[43] August 22, 1854.