_Todus viridis._
_Todus viridis_, +Linn.+—Nat. Lib. (Flyc.) vign.
? _Todus multicolor_, +Lafresn.+
[18] Length 4¹⁄₄ inches, expanse 6¹⁄₂, tail 1⁵⁄₁₀, flexure 1⁸⁄₁₀,
rictus ¹⁹⁄₂₀, tarsus ⁶⁄₁₀, middle toe ⁵⁄₁₀.
Irides very pale grey; pupils very large; beak above horny red,
beneath pale crimson; legs and feet reddish brown; sometimes
flesh-colour, or purplish-horn. The sexes exactly alike.
I doubt much if _Todus multicolor_ of Lafresnaye, figured in
D’Orbigny’s Birds of Cuba, is specifically different from this;
the slight distinctions of hue being scarcely more than variations
which I have found in Jamaican specimens; some of which, in my
possession, display the pale blue on the sides of the throat, and
the orange on the flanks.
In all parts of Jamaica that I have visited, the Tody is a very common
bird. On the summit of Bluefields mountain, about three thousand
feet from the level of the sea, and particularly where the deserted
provision-grounds are overgrown with a thicket, almost impenetrable,
of jointer, or joint-wood (_Piper geniculatum_), it is especially
abundant. Always conspicuous from its bright grass-green coat, and
crimson-velvet gorget, it is still a very tame bird; yet this seems
rather the tameness of indifference than of confidence; it will allow
a person to approach very near, and, if disturbed, alight on another
twig a few yards distant. We have often captured specimens with the
insect net, and struck them down with a switch, and it is not uncommon
for the little boys to creep up behind one, and actually to clap the
hand over it as it sits, and thus secure it. It is a general favourite,
and has received a favourite name, that of Robin Redbreast. There is
little resemblance, however, between the West Indian and the European
namesakes. I have never seen the Tody on the ground; but it hops about
the twigs of low trees, searching for minute insects, occasionally
uttering a querulous, sibilant note. But more commonly it is seen
sitting patiently on a twig, with the head drawn in, the beak pointing
upwards, the loose plumage puffed out, when it appears much larger than
it is. It certainly has an air of stupidity when thus seen. But this
abstraction is more apparent than real; if we watch it, we shall see
that the odd-looking grey eyes are glancing hither and thither, and
that, ever and anon, the bird sallies out upon a short feeble flight,
snaps at something in the air, and returns to his twig to swallow it.
It is instructive to note by how various means the wisdom of God has
ordained a given end to be attained. The Swallow and the Tody live on
the same prey, insects on the wing; and the short, hollow, and feeble
wings of the latter, are as effectual to him, as the long and powerful
pinions are to the Swallow. He has no powers to employ in pursuing
insects, but he waits till they come within his circumscribed range,
and no less certainly secures his meal.
I have never seen the Tody eating vegetable food; but I have
occasionally found in its stomach, among minute coleopterous and
hymenopterous insects, a few small seeds. One, which I kept in a cage,
would snatch worms from me with impudent audacity; and then beat them
violently against the perch or sides of the cage to divide, before he
swallowed, them.
One, captured with a net in April, on being turned into a room, began
immediately to catch flies, and other minute insects that flitted
about, particularly little destructive _Tineadæ_ that infested my
dried birds. At this employment he continued incessantly, and most
successfully, all that evening, and all the next day from earliest
dawn to dusk. He would sit on the edge of the tables, on the lines, on
shelves, or on the floor, ever glancing about, now and then flitting
up into the air, when the snap of his beak announced a capture, and
he returned to some station to eat it. He would peep into the lowest
and darkest corners, even under the tables, for the little globose,
long-legged spiders, which he would drag from their webs and swallow.
He sought these also about the ceiling and walls, and found very many.
I have said that he continued at this employment all day without
intermission, and, though I took no account, I judged that, on an
average, he made a capture per minute. We may thus form some idea of
the immense number of insects destroyed by these and similar birds;
bearing in mind that this was in a room, where the human eye scarcely
recognised a dozen insects altogether; and that, in the free air,
insects would doubtless be much more numerous. Water in a basin was in
the room, but I did not see him drink, though occasionally he perched
on the brim; and when I inserted his beak into the water, he would
not drink. Though so actively engaged in his own occupation, he cared
nothing for the presence of man; he sometimes alighted voluntarily on
our heads, shoulders, or fingers; and when sitting, would permit me
at any time to put my hand over him and take him up; though, when in
the hand, he would struggle to get out. He seemed likely to thrive,
but incautiously settling in front of a dove-cage, a surly Baldpate
poked his head through the wires, and with his beak aimed a cruel blow
at the pretty green head of the unoffending and unsuspecting Tody. He
appeared not to mind it at first, but did not again fly; and about an
hour afterward, on my taking him into my hand, and throwing him up, he
could only flutter to the ground, and on laying him on the table, he
stretched out his little feet, shivered, and died.
The inhabitants of Jamaica are not in the habit of domesticating many
of the native birds; else this is one of the species which would become
a favourite pet. In a state of liberty, however, it attracts the
admiration, even of the most unobservant, and an European is charmed
with it. As it sits on a twig in the verdure of spring, its grass-green
coat is sometimes undistinguishable from the leaves in which it is
embowered, itself looking like a leaf; but a little change of position
bringing its throat into the sun’s rays, the light suddenly gleams as
from a glowing coal. Occasionally, too, this crimson plumage is puffed
out into a globose form, when its appearance is particularly beautiful.
The tongue is fleshy for but a small part of its length, the remainder
consisting of a flat, or slightly concave, transparent, horny lamina;
just like a cut from the side of a quill; it is seen, under a lens, to
be snipped at the edges, into very minute and close-set barbs pointing
backwards. The skin is exceedingly thin, and so tender, as to render it
a very difficult task to prepare a specimen.
The Tody, as has been long known, builds in holes in the earth, in the
manner of the Kingfisher. Near Scott’s Cove, I was shown, by the side
of the deep road, holes in the clay, which were said to be the nesting
holes of the “Robin.” And near Spanish Town, a friend pointed out a
hole in a bank in his own garden, in which a Tody was then building, in
March. But, as I have never seen the nest or eggs, I am indebted to the
notes of Mr. Hill for a detailed description.
“The Green Tody is a bird of peculiar structure, and peculiar habits.
It is exclusively an insect feeder, and burrows in the earth to breed.
The banks of ravines, and the scarps of dry ditches, are excavated
by its feeble feet, in which two out of three of its front toes are
united together, leaving only the terminal joint free, and hence the
feet of this kind of birds are called _syndactylous_. The hole runs
into the banks some eight inches or a foot: at the extremity of this
subterranean lodging, it nestles in secrecy and security.
“As the subterranean nest is made wherever there is friable mould easy
of excavation,—ravines and gullies, whose banks are earthy, and where
the water passes off rapidly from the surface-soil, are generally
selected for breeding. These gullies are sheltered from exposure to
the drift rain by opposing banks, or they are covered by over-hanging
shrubs. The excavation is made by means of the beak and claws. It
is a winding gallery, rounded at the bottom, and terminating in a
sufficiently wide lodging, lined with pliant fibres, and dry moss and
cotton, placed with some attention to arrangement. Four or five grey,
brown-spotted eggs are laid, and the young are fed within the cave till
they are full-fledged.
“The combination of circumstances that make up a fit nestling place for
it, may be well understood from the following selection of a burrow,
by a pair of birds, in the garden of a friend. A box filled with earth
had been placed on tressels within water, for growing lettuces from
seed, or rather for saving the seed, whilst vegetating, from the
depredations of ants. The box had performed its office;—the lettuces
had been transplanted, and the mould remained in undisturbed fallow.
The box having a knot-hole in the side, through this hole a pair of
Todies burrowed a gallery into the heart of the mould, built a nest,
and reared a family of young ones. They were assiduous sitters, the
male and female relieving each other. Though they attracted a good deal
of attention, and were not unfrequently disturbed by the curiosity of
visitors, they steadfastly pursued their family affairs, and showed
surprising vigilance and caution in escaping out of their cavern, when
they were either watched, or attempts were made to catch them. They
never failed to profit by the moment when attention was withdrawn from
them, either to come from out of their cave, or to dart into it. On
opening the earth after the young had fled, there was found a capacious
winding gallery into the centre of the box, ending in a circular
lodging, in which was contained the nest, composed of fibrous roots and
cotton.
“There is such an obvious similarity between the Kingfisher and the
Tody, particularly the brilliant blue and green European Kingfisher,
that few who are acquainted with both fail to recognise their affinity.
The brilliant plumage of the two birds; the patient watchfulness with
which they both sit on some exposed twig to await the vagrant prey;
their short flight from station to station; and their repeated return
to the same spot;—independent of that intimate resemblance in the
structure of their extremities, which led Brisson, Latreille, and
Cuvier, to arrange the Halcyons in company with the Todies, would
induce one to conclude that there was some propinquity in their
natures, without any great knowledge of Natural History. The difference
of the element in which they severally seek their food, does not
widen the affinity between them, for the Jacamars of America, and the
Martin-chasseurs of Africa, or King-hunters, as they are called, to
distinguish them, in their pursuit of a terrestrial or aërial prey,
from the Kingfishers or Martin-pecheurs, which seek theirs only in
the water,—are placed in no less near a relationship of habits and
structure. The similarity is remarkably increased, when we go on to the
habit of burrowing, which prevails alike among all these birds, and to
the syndactyle form of the feet. These resemblances remove all doubt
about their classification.
“The Spaniards of Hispaniola call the Green Tody by a very appropriate
name, the Barrancali, from the barrancas or earthy ravine-cliffs in
which it builds; _barranca_ being the appellation for the deep breaks
and gullies made by the mountain-floods.”
A nest is in my possession, attributed to the Tody, which, if rightly
appropriated, is a remarkable deviation from a general habit. A person
of intelligence informed me, about the middle of May, that he knew of
a “Red-breast” building in a tree; at which he was surprised, knowing
its habit of burrowing to breed. I assured him that he must be in
error; but he was confident of the fact, however anomalous, as he had
seen the bird actually in the nest. In a few days he sent me the twig
with the nest upon it. It was certainly one to which I could assign no
probable ownership, but that he had mentioned. It was built on a small
shrubby tree, in the fork formed by one of the principal branches, and
a twig that it sent forth, being rather wider than a right angle. As
the main branch is not thicker than one’s little finger, and the nest
is stretched from the one to the other, the outline of the rim forms
a long oval about 1¹⁄₂ inch by ³⁄₄; and ³⁄₄ inch deep. It is a thin,
very frail structure, formed of spiders’ webs stretched along, in which
are profusely inlaid the shining, brown perules of some leaf-buds;
with the addition of a little silk-cotton, this is the whole: it
looks unfinished. To set against the improbability of this being the
nest of a Tody, there are these two considerations:—First, the direct
evidence of an intelligent and observant man, who, I feel sure, would
not willingly deceive me, and to whom the Tody was too familiar for him
to mistake its identity. Secondly, the nest is too small for any other
known Jamaican bird, except the Humming-birds; and I have specimens
of the nests of all our known species, not one of which it resembles
at all. I have no doubt that the report is correct, and that it is an
aberration of habit.
+Fam.+—ALCEDINIDÆ.—(_The Kingfishers._)