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NESTS AND EGGS OF FAMILIAR BRITISH BIRDS,

Described and Illustrated; With an Account of the Haunts and Habits

of the Feathered Architects, and Their Times and Modes of Building;

SECOND SERIES.

by

H. G. ADAMS.

Author of "Favorite Song Birds," "Beautiful Butterflies,"

"Humming Birds," &c., &c.

With Eight Coloured Plates of Eggs,

Containing Thirty-Eight Different Species.

London:

Groombridge and Sons, 5, Paternoster Row.

M DCCC LVII.

INTRODUCTION.

WHAT IS AN EGG?

It may at first strike our young readers that this is a question very

easily answered; if they think so, let them try what sort of an answer

they can give to it, and if they break down in the definition, we will

endeavour to help them, as we are told in the old fable, Jupiter did

the waggoner; but it is best for young people to _try_, and, for that

matter, old people too; let them never believe that they _can't_ do a

thing--"where there's a will there's a way." Many a boy that will take

a deal of pains, and incur no inconsiderable risk of life and limb, to

climb up a tree after a bird's nest, finds it too much trouble to read

and learn about the habits of the creature he is thus ready to deprive

of its warm comfortable home and beautiful eggs. He cannot tell you, if

you ask him, of what the nest is composed, nor how, nor when it was

built, much less can he answer the question which we have just put to

our readers,--

WHAT IS AN EGG?

"Well," we hear some one say, "an Egg is a thing of an oval shape,

large or small, white or coloured and speckled, as the case may be; it

has a shell which breaks if you knock it, because it is brittle; and

inside is a yellow substance called the yolk, surrounded by a white,

clear liquid; if you boil it for a little time it becomes _set_, so

that you can take it up in a spoon, and in this state it is good to

eat. Oh! very good, I like an egg, especially for breakfast, with a

little salt; and then eggs, and other things with them, make custards,

and pancakes, and puddings, and all sorts of nice things; and then I

recollect some such funny '_Stanzas to an Egg by a Spoon_,' which begin,

'Pledge of a feathered pair's affection,

Kidnapped in thy downy nest,

Soon for my breakfast--sad reflection!

Must thou in yon pot be drest.'"

Well, never mind the rest. Now listen to our definition of an Egg. The

word itself, we may observe first of all, is of Saxon origin; that this

is how the ancient dwellers on our island used to write it aeg, you may

call it _aeg_ or _oeg_, which you like. Johnson says the term means,

"That which is laid by feathered and some other animals, from which

their young is produced;" it is also, we are told by the same

authority, "the spawn or sperm of other creatures," as fish, which

are said, you know, not to lay eggs, but to _spawn_. Another

dictionary-maker defines it to be "the _ovum_ of birds," giving us here

the Latin for egg, hence that peculiar shape is called _oval_, and the

science of eggs is sometimes termed

OVOLOGY.

As we have told you in the first volume of this series, _Oology_ is

another term for this science, which has occupied the attention of many

learned men, who have gone deeper into Eggs than ever you or I shall,

and told us such strange things about them, as would scarcely be

believed by the very hens that laid them. Little does the happy mother

think, when she goes cackling about the yard, proclaiming the event,

that she has produced such a wonderful object. It looks a simple affair

enough, one might make a thing very like it with a piece of chalk;

touch it, roll it about; boil it, eat it, or crack it, and let the

inside flow out; there's the yellow, and there's the white; there's

nothing very particular in that, all eggs are so. Well, who made them

so? and of what _are_ they made? and what reason is there for this

peculiar arrangement of the different parts of an Egg? and how is it

that, under certain circumstances, so complete a change should take

place in the nature of its contents--that the fluids should be

gradually absorbed into a solid body, and that, by and by, at the end

of a period which can be calculated to a nicety, the shell should be

burst open, and there should come forth a living creature? Truly this

_is_ wonderful; but we are surrounded by wonders, and only heed them

not because they are so common.

_Common_ is the vital air,

_Common_ is the azure sky,

_Common_ flowers are everywhere,

_Common_ stars shine out on high:

Music of the forest bird,

Cometh without stint or measure,

Friendly smile and loving word,

_Common_ are as joy and pleasure;

Why from _common_ things then turn,

And for the _uncommon_ yearn?

But about this common thing, an Egg? It is the germ or seed, so to

speak, of animal life; in it is contained all that is necessary for the

formation of the perfect living creature; in that little oval case lie

snugly packed up, bones, and muscles, and sinews, and all the delicate

parts, organs, as they would be called, from a Greek word signifying an

instrument, thus the tongue is an organ of speech, the eye of sight,

and so on. But all these organs are in an _undeveloped_ state, as the

flower is in the bud; develope is a French word, and signifies to

unroll, or unfold. The animal is there in _embryo_; this again is

Greek, and means a thing unperfected, or unfinished, so the poet

Thompson says:--

"While the promised fruit

Lies yet a little _embryo_ unperceived,

Within its crimson folds."

And so with closer reference to our subject, we might say,

While the promised bird

Lies yet a little _embryo_ unperceived,

Within its oval shell.

Dr. Harvey, who made that great discovery, the circulation of the

blood, uttered a truth when he said _omne animal ex ovo_, every animal

is born of an egg, for although some animals are _oviparous_, and

others _viviparous_,--the two words come from _ovum_ egg, _vivum_ life,

and _pario_ to bring forth--yet may the first stage of all animal life

be compared to an Egg. From the smallest insect up to the most huge and

unwieldy creature that swims in the deep sea, or walks upon the land.

All were at one time alike, mere specks, surrounded by fluid matter,

which afforded the material for growth and nourishment, and enclosed in

some kind of a case, which if not exactly like an egg shell, answers

the same purpose of protection from injury.

What a vast difference is there between the bright-winged insect, whose

history we traced in our volume on Butterflies, and the bird with downy

plumage and the voice of melody; between that again and the great

crocodile, in his scaly coat of mail; the mighty boa constrictor, king

of serpents; or that tyrant of the deep, the fierce voracious shark;

and yet all these come from Eggs, very similar in form, and precisely

so in their nature and internal construction. Look too at the

difference in size, between the egg of the Humming Bird, no bigger than

a pea, and that of the Ostrich, as large as a man's head nearly, or

bigger still that of the Epyornis, of which fossil remains have been

found in Madagascar, the contents of which must have been equal to six

ostrichs', or one hundred and forty-eight common hens' eggs, that is

about seventeen English pints; and yet in all these the germ, or as it

would be called, the vital principle, that is, the principle of life,

is but a tiny speck, or circle, which is attached to the membrane that

surrounds the yellow portion, or yolk; it is from this that the animal

in embryo derives nourishment, and the size of it, and consequently of

the whole egg, is in proportion to the quantity that is required to

sustain life, until the protection of the shell is no longer necessary.

There is only so much food stored up as the bird, or reptile, or

whatever it may be, requires before it is strong enough to make an

opening in its prison, and come forth to provide for itself, or be fed

by the parent. Some creatures that eventually attain a large size are

born, or _hatched_, as it is termed, comparatively small; thus the size

of the egg is not always in proportion to that of the animal which lays

it; the crocodile's egg, for instance, is but little larger than that

of the common fowl; the young comes forth like a small lizard, about

two or three inches long, takes to the water at once, and begins to

catch insects on its own account; its mother may be twenty or thirty

feet in length. Most creatures that produce eggs small in proportion to

their size lay a great many; this is especially the case with fish,

whose _spawn_ must be numbered by millions: it has been calculated that

if the young of a single pair of herrings were suffered to breed

undisturbed, they would in twenty years together make up a bulk six

times the size of the earth; but so many creatures feed upon this

spawn, that few of the eggs of which it is composed ever come to young

fish, that is comparatively few, for the vast shoals which every year

visit our shores, for the purpose of depositing their spawn in shallow

water, shew that immense numbers must escape the dangers to which they

are exposed. There are some fish of the fierce and rapacious kind, such

as the Ray, the Dog-fish, and the Shark, which attain a considerable

size before they lose the protection of the egg-shell, which is of a

very peculiar shape and construction, being of a leathery texture,

flat, and four-cornered, with a long curling string-like projection

from each corner; frequenters of the coast, to whom they are very

familiar objects, being often cast up on the beach, call them Mermaid's

purses, and Fairy-purses, while the clustered Eggs of the Cuttle-fish

they term Sea Grapes.

All eggs require warmth to hatch them; the fishes know this, not as we

know it, because we have read, or been told so, and can _reason_ upon

causes and consequences, and so understand _why_, but they know it

_instinctively_; they possess, in common with all unreasoning

creatures, what we call _instinct_, that is, a natural impulse to do in

the right way, and at the proper time, whatever may be necessary for

the maintenance of that state of existence in which God has placed

them; so instinct directs the fishes when the time for spawning has

arrived, to leave the deep waters, where they generally remain safe

from the pursuit of man, for the shores, where the warmth of the sun

can reach the eggs, and awaken the principle of life within them. So

instinct teaches the bird to leave its winter home, in some far

southern country, and fly hundreds of miles across land and ocean, to

reach a spot suitable for the purpose of breeding and rearing its

young; to collect the materials and to build its nest, and after the

eggs are laid, to sit patiently on them the appointed time; to select

the food proper for those little gaping bills, and to tend the

fledglings carefully, until they are able to fly and provide for

themselves, and then, when their wings are strong enough for the

journey, and their food begins to get scarce, away they go back to the

south of Europe, or Africa, straight as an arrow, and the young ones,

which have never flown that way before, seem to know it as well as

those which have been backwards and forwards, often and often.

But the egg, what of that? Can we describe its nature and construction

in a way sufficiently clear for our readers to understand? Let us

try:--it is like a series of cases or envelopes, one within the other;

the outer one only, which is the last formed, being hard and unelastic,

that is, it will not stretch or change its shape. Like the shells of

some fish, and other testaceous animals, it is composed of carbonate of

lime, which the animal has the power of secreting, as it is called,

from its food. Hens sometimes lay soft eggs, without a shell; this

shews a deficiency of the secreting power, or a want of the necessary

material, and may generally be remedied by mixing some chalk with the

food, or scattering it about the yard. Next to the shell is a skin

called the _membrana putaminis_, that means the membrane or skin of the

shell; it has also a Greek name--_chorian_; it is divided into two

layers, which separate at the larger end, and leave a space called the

_vesicula aëris_, that is, air vesicle, or little bladder; this

contains the air necessary for the chick to breathe before it chips the

shell. Enclosed in this membrane is the _albumen_, or white fluid,

sometimes called the _glair_, from the Latin _glarea_; in the same

language _albus_ means white; and our readers who live in Albion, so

called from her chalky cliffs, ought to see at once from whence we

derive the word _albumen_; the little chords by which this bag of fluid

is suspended are called _chalaza_; this word comes from a Greek root,

and has reference to the connection between the suspending chords and

the germ, or spot, in which is the vital principle.

We now come to what may be called the provision bag, because it

encloses the yolk, which serves as food for the animal in embryo; it is

called _membrana vitelli_, or the skin of life. Thus our examination of

the egg has brought to view the three great necessities of all

existence--_protection_, the shell and albumen; _nutrition_ or food,

the yolk; and the _vital principle_, to understand the nature of which

has puzzled the greatest philosophers that the world ever saw. It is

said in the Scriptures that God breathed into man the breath of life,

but what this may be we can none of us tell; it is given to us and we

_live_, it is taken away from us and we _die_; and so do all God's

creatures, which by Him, and Him alone, live, and move, and have their

being. Man can do many wonderful things, but he has not yet been, nor

will he ever be, able to make an egg, much less to produce a chick from

it.

Let us now fancy that we are looking upon one of these strange little

elongated globes, and that instead of being _opaque_, that is,

dark--not clear, it is transparent, so that we can see into it, and

observe the changes which are taking place there. The mother bird has

been sitting on it for, say twelve hours, and the warmth of her body

has called into action the principle of growth, or of vitality; the

little spot and ring in the centre of the yolk have become somewhat

enlarged and changed in form; they are no longer round, but the outline

is irregular, shewing a tendency to shoot or spread out on all sides.

Four hours later shews them yet more enlarged, and getting into an oval

shape, with a distinct, though somewhat broken line down the centre.

When the _incubation_ has lasted thirty-six hours, (for meaning of this

word, see the first series of "Nests and Eggs,") there is a still

greater increase in the germ, and a spreading of its mottled margin

over a portion of the yolk; if at this stage of growth we examine it

through a magnifying glass, we shall see a little body like some

curious kind of caterpillar, and veins shaped like stags' horns

branching out of it in every direction. On the fourth day the chick is

a more strange-looking object still, with great projecting eyes with

rings round them, like spectacles, and what appears to be a very blunt

sort of a snout or muzzle; the whole head, and there is not much else,

reminds one of that of a serpent, it might be the Cobra di Capello, or

the Spectacle Snake, seen through a diminishing glass. But we cannot

give a proper description of it, so we have called in the aid of our

artist, who has furnished us, on the next page, with portraits of the

interesting creature at four different stages of its growth. In the

last we get a side view, and begin to fancy we discover some

resemblance to a baby-fowl, although a very hideous one.

[Illustration: 36 hours.

4 days.

6 days.

10 days.]

All this time a great change has been going on in the whole interior of

the egg; the chick has, of course greatly increased, and the red veins

have become more numerous, and spread over the entire surface; the yolk

is scarcely distinguishable from the other portions. Now, too, the

bones of the chick have begun to form, and we clearly perceive the

projection of the wings and the stump of the tail, while the pupil of

the eye is quite clear and distinct. Larger and larger the creature

grows, until it fills all the space, and has to be doubled up in a very

curious manner, with the feet and the head brought together, and the

bill close to the shell, ready to be used as the instrument of

liberation. Many persons suppose that the parent bird chips the shell,

but this is not so, it is done by the little creature within, which has

first to make its way through a thick membrane, or skin; this it does

on the twenty-first day of incubation; we are speaking now of the

common fowl, the periods in different species of birds vary

considerably, although the process of growth in all is the same. One

wonders how, with its soft bill, the little creature can make its way

through the tough skin, and hard, though brittle shell; but it must be

remembered that the elastic skin is stretched to its greatest extent,

and when in this state, a slight prick will make a large opening; and

the shell, too, is no doubt, by the pressure from within, rendered less

capable of resisting the stroke, slight though it be, of the bill of

the prisoner, which does sometimes fail to make its escape, and dies in

confinement, if not released by some friendly hand from without.

As if to assist in the work of opening a passage to the light and air,

there is found on the tip of the chick's bill a small horny scale,

having at the centre a hard and sharp projecting point, which, from the

position of the head, is brought into direct and constant contact with

the inner surface of the shell; this scale soon loosens and comes away

after the chick is hatched, there is then no further use for it. The

preceding figure represents the chick as it lies closely folded up on

the twenty-first day, just previous to its deliverance from bondage.

We have now finished our account of this wonderful process, and may say

in the words of a recent writer, "Dull indeed of soul must the man be,

(or boy either,) in whom an egg does not inspire emotions of awe and

admiration, wonder and worship. The circle of life is from the adult

(fully-grown animal,) to the egg. This is the vital round--the

beginning and the ending--the ending and the beginning. The wheel goes

round continually, life kindling sparks of life; and what is called

death is the worn-out forms becoming cold and decaying away."

HOW TO PRESERVE EGGS FOR THE CABINET.

For this purpose eggs which are newly laid should always be chosen, as

any decomposition of the contents will, probably, cause a

discolouration of the shell. Make a hole at the smaller end, with an

awl, or some other pointed instrument, and another at the larger end,

which should be as small as possible, merely a pin hole will do; to

this latter the mouth must be applied to blow out the contents. If the

yolk does not come out readily, get a cup full of water, and immersing

the sharp end into it, put your mouth to the blunt end, and suck up

some of the water into the shell, then shake it about well, and blow it

out again; repeat this operation two or three times, if necessary. If

the shell has got soiled in any way, wash it well in strong lather,

using a nail-brush if the stains do not come off readily, but great

care must be taken in the handling of so brittle and fragile an

article. Now as the membrane which lines the shell would be likely to

decompose, and render it offensive, if not injure its beauty, it is

best to wash the inside with a solution of the bichloride of mercury,

commonly called corrosive sublimate, in spirits of wine; this solution

should be prepared by a chemist, and used with great caution, as it is

extremely poisonous. Pour it into a wineglass, and holding the egg

firmly, yet tenderly, with the finger and thumb, which should not touch

the liquid, put the smaller end therein; then apply the mouth, as

previously directed, to the larger end, and suck up gently; cease doing

so as soon as you are aware, by a cold sensation in the finger and

thumb, that the liquid has entered the shell, which then take up by the

two ends, so as to stop the orifice, and shake it well, then blow the

solution back into the glass, taking care to wash the lips or the

fingers if it comes in contact with either of them. The Oological

specimen will soon dry, and is now ready for the cabinet. To render it

more glossy and brilliant, it may have a coat of mastic varnish, put on

thinly with a camel-hair brush, or, if the egg be of a blue or green

tint, as many are, a solution of very pure white gum arabic is best, as

the varnish is apt to injure those delicate colours.

As to the formation of the cabinet, and arrangement of the eggs

therein, directions are scarcely necessary; this must depend very much

upon the means and conveniences, as well as the taste of the collector.

Shallow drawers with divisions sufficiently broad for the names of the

specimens to be written or pasted along the tops, are perhaps best.

Small pill-boxes, which may have the names on the lids, are not bad

receptacles, and the cost of a few dozens of these is not much; but

above all things let the arrangements be carried out with neatness and

order; do not let the specimens be huddled together, but classified,

and placed so that the hand may be laid upon any one which may be

required. Duplicates for exchanging with other collectors, or replacing

any which may be broken, may be put carefully in a drawer by

themselves, their presence with the others will only cause unnecessary

confusion and trouble.

Care should be taken not to name a specimen positively, if there is any

doubt of its identity, it may be named with a query; and in the

note-book, which every collector should keep, should be entered all the

circumstances which weigh for or against the correctness of the

designation given to it. This note-book ought to be a complete record

of the time and place of acquisition of every specimen included in the

collection, and of all that is curious or interesting connected with

it. If nests as well as eggs are preserved, of course drawers with

divisions are the very best receptacles; they occupy a great deal of

space, and, except in some cases where the structure is peculiarly neat

or curious, it is perhaps scarcely worth while to take and preserve

them, especially as doing so often involves a cruel spoliation of the

feathered architects, whose carefully chosen situations for building

are well described by Dr. Bidlake, in his "Walks in a Forest."

"The cavern-loving Wren sequester'd seeks

The verdant shelter of the hollow stump;

And with congenial moss, harmless deceit,

Constructs a safe abode. On topmost boughs

The glossy Raven, and the hoarse-voiced Crow,

Rock'd by the storm, erect their airy nests.

The Ouzel, lone frequenter of the grove

Of fragrant pines, in solemn depths of shade

Finds rest, or 'mid the holly's shining leaves;

A simple bush, the piping Thrush contents,

Though in the woodland concert he aloft

Trills from his spotted throat a powerful strain,

And scorns the humble choir. The Lark too asks

A lowly dwelling hid beneath the turf,

A hollow trodden by the sinking hoof:

Songster of heaven! who to the sun such lays

Pours forth as earth ne'er owns. Within the hedge

The Sparrow lays her sky-blue eggs. The barn,

With eaves o'er-pendent, holds the chattering tribe.

Secret the Linnet seeks the tangled copse.

The White Owls seek some ruin'd antique wall,

Fearless of rapine; or in hollow trees,

Which age has cavern'd, safely courts repose.

The thievish Pie, in twofold colours clad,

Roofs o'er her curious nest with firm wreath'd twigs,

And side-long forms her cautious door; she dreads

The talon'd Kite, or pouncing Hawk, savage

Herself, with craft suspicion ever dwells."

FACTS AND ANECDOTES OF NESTS AND EGGS.

EASTER EGGS.

During the fifteen days after Easter, which constitute the Russian

carnival, the people of that country supply themselves with eggs,

variously coloured, which they send or give to one another as presents;

and when they meet during this time they salute with the words, "Christ

is risen;" to which the other having answered "He is certainly risen,"

they kiss one another. He that salutes first is obliged to present the

other with an egg; no one, of whatever rank or sex, being allowed to

refuse either the egg or the kiss. This custom prevails in many

Catholic countries; the eggs, it appears, being considered as an emblem

of the resurrection.

EGGS USED AS COIN.

The want of any copper coin in Peru has given rise to a curious

practice of which Lieutenant Maw was informed at Truxillo. A person

coming to the market of that city, and not wishing to spend a real upon

every article, purchases a real's worth of eggs, with which he or she

proceeds to market; buying an egg's worth of vegetables from one, and

so on from others, till all that was wanted has been obtained. The eggs

are taken as current payment, and finally purchased themselves by those

who require them for use.

ILLUMINATED NESTS.

The birds that build hanging nests are at Cape Cormorin numerous. At

night each of their little habitations is lighted up, as if to see

company. The sagacious little bird fastens a bit of clay to the top of

the nest, and then picks up a firefly, and sticks it on the clay to

illuminate the dwelling, which consists of two rooms. Sometimes there

are three or four fire-flies, and their blaze of light in the little

cell dazzles the eyes of the bats, which often kill the young of these

birds.--_Dr. Buchanan._

AN EGG WITHIN AN EGG.

A few years since, M. Seguin submitted to the Academy of Sciences at

Paris, a hen's egg of extraordinary size, in which was a second egg.

Its dimensions were eighty-eight millimetres by fifty-nine, or nearly

three inches and a half by two and a quarter. More recently, in 1855,

there appeared in an English scientific journal, an account of a

similar oological curiosity, produced in Scotland, in the case of a

turkey's egg.

A BOY REPROVED BY A BIRD.

A correspondent of "The Youths' Instructor" relates the following

anecdote, to which our young readers are earnestly requested to pay

especial attention:--"When quite young, in my boyish days, I had

watched some sparrows carrying materials to build their nests, (in the

usual season,) under the eaves of a cottage adjoining our own; and

although strict orders had been issued that none of us should climb up

to the roofs of the houses, yet birds' eggs formed a temptation too

powerful to be easily resisted, and self-gratification was considered

rather than obedience. A favourable opportunity presenting itself, the

roof of the house was ascended, and not only was the nest pillaged, but

seized and carried away. It was soon stripped of all its unnecessary

appendages, that it might appear as neat as possible. Amongst the

_externals_ thus removed, was a piece of paper, which had been a page

of one of Dr. Watts's hymn-books; and which, thrown away, had been

taken by the poor bird for the purpose of strengthening the nest, or

increasing its warmth. A word or two caught my eye, and I unfolded the

paper. Need I say that, boy as I was, I read these verses with, to say

the least, _curious_ feelings.

"Why should I deprive my neighbour

Of his goods against his will?

Hands were made for honest labour;

Not to plunder nor to steal.

Guard my heart, O God of heaven,

Lest I covet what's not mine;

Lest I take what is not given,

Guard my hands and heart from sin."

NESTS AND EGGS OF FAMILIAR BRITISH BIRDS.

SECOND SERIES.

CROSSBILL.

EUROPEAN OR COMMON CROSSBILL. SHELL OR SHIELD-APPLE.

FIGURE 1.

Of those curious birds called Crossbills, from the peculiar

construction of the bills, the points of which cross each other, there

are three species known in this country, but two of them, namely, the

Parrot and White-winged Crossbills, are very rare, only a few specimens

having been taken here. The more common kind is a migratory bird,

coming in large flocks at very irregular intervals, and visiting more

especially those parts of the country where there are woods and

plantations of fir and pine, of the seeds of which they are very fond,

extracting them with great dexterity from between the scales of the

cones; for this operation, the projecting points of the bill appear to

be well adapted, as well as for picking out the apple-pips, as they are

called, and kernels of other fruits; hence the name shell-apple given

to the bird, which was a not uncommon visitor to the English orchards

in former times; thus in a curious old record we are told that "In the

yeere 1593 was a greate and exceeding yeere of apples; and there were

greate plenty of strang birds, that shewed themselves at the tyme the

apples were full rype, who fedd uppon the kernells onely of those

apples, and haveing a bill with one beake wrythinge over the other,

which would presently bore a greate hole in the apple, and make way to

the kernells; they were of the bignesse of a bullfinch, the henne right

like the henne of the bullfinch in coulour; the cocke a very glorious

bird, in a manner al redde or yellowe on the brest, backe, and head."

We would not advise our young readers to take the above as a lesson in

spelling, although it is a very lively and faithful picture of the

Crossbill, great flocks of which were English visitants in 1254, 1593,

and 1791, when a bird-catcher in Bath caught one hundred pairs, which

he sold for five shillings each; again in 1806, 1828 and 9, and 1835;

ever since which time they have generally remained with us in greater

or lesser numbers, having been probably induced to do so by the greater

abundance of fir plantations. They are very lively birds, chattering

and making a shrill noise while engaged in their favourite occupation

of picking out seeds; they swing about on the branches of the trees

often head downwards, and are very nimble and graceful in their

movements, and so fearless of the approach of man, that they can

frequently be taken with a hand-net, or knocked down with a stick.

That the Crossbill sometimes breeds in this country there cannot be a

doubt, but it does this only as an exception to the general rule; the

nest, which has been found at various seasons, has been described as of

a loose texture, not unlike that of the Common Greenfinch, though not

nearly so well nor so carefully built; the eggs also are not unlike

those of that bird but larger. In Norway and Sweden, where the bird

habitually breeds, the nest is built in the uppermost branches of the

pines and firs; it is composed of grass, moss, and the finer portions

of these trees; one has been found here on an apple tree, and another

on a fir, and another, near Dartford, in Kent, on the lowest fork of a

pine; this was composed of dry twigs, but no eggs were laid in it, the

curiosity of frequent observers having driven the bird away.

Although we have placed this among our _familiar_ British Birds, the

eggs to English collectors are rare and difficult of attainment, and

should be prized accordingly. The scientific name given to the species

is _Loxia curvirostra_, both the terms having reference to the shape of

the beak, the first coming from the Greek _loxos_, curved, and the

latter from the Latin _curvus_, curved or bent, and _rostra_, the beak.

By some naturalists _EuropÊa_ is the generic term, and this so closely

resembles the English name as to require no explanation.

STARLING.

COMMON STARLING, OR STARE.

FIGURE 2.

This handsome and well-known bird is sometimes called, when young, the

Solitary Thrush. Its scientific name is _Sturnus vulgaris_, which is

simply the Latin for the Common Starling. It may be met with in all

parts of Britain, even in the Orkney and Shetland Isles, where it

sometimes breeds in rocky caves, and fissures, and holes in the turf.

More towards the south its nest is found in hollow trees, cavities in

chalk-pits, sandy banks and old buildings; it is large and rudely

fashioned of straw, roots, dry grass, and other vegetable fibres, with

frequently a lining of hair and feathers; the eggs, from four to six in

number, are of a delicate greenish blue colour, sometimes altogether

plain, but frequently spotted with black; they are of a longish oval

shape.

"Nidification," as Mr. Morris tells us, in his beautiful work on

British Birds, "commences about the beginning or middle of April." This

word, my readers should remember, comes from the Latin _nidus_, a nest.

Incubation lasts about sixteen days; _incubatio_, as we have already

explained in the first series of "Nests and Eggs," is the Latin for to

lie or sit upon. These are words we shall often have to use, and

therefore we think it well to explain their meaning here, lest they

should have escaped the memory of some who take this volume in hand.

The Starling is gregarious and insectivorous, that is, it goes in

flocks and feeds on insects; chiefly on insects, we should say, but not

altogether, for it likes also worms, snails, grain, fruit, and seeds of

various kinds, so that it may be almost called omnivorous, eating all

things. A bold lively bird, something like the Magpie in its habits,

given to picking and stealing when it can get a chance; it is,

nevertheless, a general favourite, on account of its beauty and

teachability, if we may use such a word. It has naturally a low musical

note, which is uttered by both male and female, although least by the

latter, and may be taught to articulate many words, so that it is often

kept in confinement, where, like the poor bird in Sterne's "Sentimental

Journey," we may fancy we hear it exclaiming in piteous tones, "I can't

get out!"

CHOUGH.

CORNISH CHOUGH. RED-LEGGED, MARKET-JEW, OR HERMIT-CROW. RED-LEGGED

JACKDAW. GESNER'S WOOD-CROW. CORNISH, CHAUK, OR CLIFF-DAW. CORNWALL

KAE, OR KILLEGREW.

FIGURE 3.

Plenty of names here for one bird. Oh, stay, here's another--Long-billed

Chough; not to count the scientific names, the most common of which is

_Corvus graculus_, that is a Chough Crow, or a Crow Chough, whichever

may be preferred. Some naturalists use a longer specific name, and say

_Pyrrhocorax_, which comes from the Greek _pyrrhos_, red, and _Corax_,

a Crow. A fine handsome fellow is this, with his sable plumes, over

which shimmers a steely blue reflection; his bright eye, and long red

bill, and legs of the same colour; the very handsomest of the Crow

family, and with us the rarest, although, from all that we can read and

learn, it was formerly by no means uncommon, especially in Cornwall, as

its name imports. It now occasionally occurs in small flocks in various

parts of Great Britain, generally near the coast, where it builds amid

the cliffs a rude nest of sticks lined with wool and hair; the eggs are

generally five in number, of a dull white colour, spotted with grey and

light brown, most thickly at the larger end. Sometimes the nest is

found in old church or other towers, especially such as are in a

ruinous condition.

The Chough feeds chiefly on grasshoppers, beetles, and other insects,

in search of which, says Mr. Morris, it will follow the plough like the

Rooks; it will also eat the smaller kinds of crustacea, or shell-fish,

and grain and berries. Now and then it indulges, like the Common Crow,

in a feast of carrion. It has a shrill note something like that of the

Jackdaw; it also chatters, and steals, and talks, as well as a

Starling, in short is a most accomplished feathered performer. One of

its favourite haunts is, or used to be, Shakspere's cliff at Dover, and

our great poet describing that grand and sublime scene, alludes to the

bird.--

"Here's the place:--stand still. How fearful

And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!

The crows and choughs that wing the midway air,

Show scarce so large as beetles."

RAVEN.

CORBIE. CORBIE CROW. GREAT CORBIE CROW.

FIGURE 4.

Scientific name, _Corvus corax_, the first being the Latin, and the

second Greek, for a Crow. This is the largest, as it is also one of the

best known of the Crow tribe or family. It is found in nearly all parts

of the world--in the coldest as well as the hottest climates--amid the

wild mountainous regions of everlasting snow, in the depths of the

gloomiest forests, and on the wide prairies and sandy plains, its

hoarse cry may be heard; as well as on the lonely island, whose shores

are lashed by the foaming waves of the mighty ocean, and seldom or ever

visited by the prow of the merchant or other vessel.

A bold familiar bird is the Raven, with jet black plumes, and a large

powerful bill, fitted for tearing to pieces the flesh of animals on

which it often feeds; and a deep hollow voice, that grates harshly upon

the ear; and strong feet armed with sharp talons; and wings that spread

out to a great extent, and with regular and well-timed beats, _flap_,

_flap_, _flap_, winnow the air, and support the bird in its long flight

over land and sea; while the broad tail, now elevated and now

depressed, now turned this way and now that, gives to the heavy body

the desired direction. "_Croak!_" one hears the sound, and scarcely

knows whether it comes from the air above or the earth beneath; but

presently the sunshine is obscured by a black shadow, and swoop! down

comes the bird of ill omen, as people have generally agreed to consider

it, down upon the sick sheep, or any other weak and defenceless

creature, that may be within the compass of its keen sight, and

commences picking out the eyes of the animal, reminding us of the

punishment threatened by the Lord against disobedient children, as

mentioned in Proverbs, and paraphrased in Dr. Watts' familiar lines:--

"Have you not heard what dreadful plagues

Are threatened by the Lord,

To him that breaks his father's law,

Or mocks his mother's word.

What heavy guilt upon him lies,

How cursed is his name,

The Ravens shall pick out his eyes,

And Eagles eat the same."

Then again, as we see the strong-winged bird sweep far away over the

wide sea, we think of the time when the waters covered the face of the

whole earth, and "Noah sent forth a Raven, which went to and fro until

the waters were dried up." Or, if in some scene of wild sublimity, some

valley hemmed in by lofty mountains, through which a stream goes

winding silently, we are startled by that black shadow and harsh

grating note, we fancy ourselves by the brook Chereth, where the Ravens

brought bread and flesh, morning and evening, to the prophet Elisha,

being commanded to do so by God, who, as we are told in Job, "provideth

for the Raven his food;" and in Psalms, "heareth the young Ravens which

cry."

In nearly all parts of Great Britain these birds are found, they were

formerly more abundant than they are at present, gamekeepers and others

having long waged war against them, on account of their real or

supposed propensity to destroy the young hares, partridges, pheasants,

etc.

In the northern and western parts of Scotland, and in some of the

Scottish Isles they are numerous. They make large nests composed of

sticks, cemented together with mud, and lined with roots, wool, fur,

and such other soft materials as come most readily to hand, or we

should rather say, to beak and claw; they are said sometimes to rob the

sheep's backs. Their building-places are cliffs and precipices, church

towers, caves and rocky fissures, and the clefts between the forked

branches of tall trees. The eggs are from four to six in number, of a

pale olive green, more or less blotched and spotted with greenish brown

and grey. They are early builders, sometimes commencing in January; the

eggs, says Mr. Morris, have been taken in the middle of February.

Incubation lasts twenty days; both male and female sit on the eggs, in

defence of which and their young, they will fight desperately, driving

off the hawks, and even eagles and vultures.

The Raven is known to live to a great age, often when in a domesticated

state, seeing out two or three generations of a family; it is one of

those birds which possess the power of imitating the human voice, and

many anecdotes are told of its proficiency in this respect. It is a

very sagacious bird, indeed so cunning that it has been thought by

ignorant persons, to know more than it ought, and to be in league with

witches and other "uncanny" people. Constantly do we find its cry

alluded to by both ancient and modern poets, as ominous of death.

"The Raven is a dreaded bird,

The stoutest quail when his voice is heard,

For when, 'tis said, his dismal cry

Rends thrice the tranquil azure sky,

'Tis the token,

Surely spoken,

That ravenous death is hovering nigh."

CARRION CROW.

GOR. GORE, OR FLESH CROW. BLACK NEB. HOODY BRAN.

FIGURE 5.

Everybody knows the Common Crow that goes _caw-cawing_ over the fields

through the long summer day, and hunts in the freshly-turned furrows

for grubs and wire-worms, and settles down upon the marshes where the

white flocks are feeding, dotting them here and there with great black

spots, as though some literary giant had taken too much ink in his pen,

and scattered it out over the landscape before he began to write. Oh

yes, everybody knows the familiar Crow, called by scientific people

_Corvus corone_, Latin and Greek again for the same thing--a Crow!

Black and all black is he, a kind of Raven in miniature, closely

resembling that bird in his habits as well as appearance. A foul

feeder, delighting in putrid carcasses, and all kinds of meat that is

not merely a "_little_ touched," but "very far gone" indeed. The

shepherd does not like him, neither does the gamekeeper, neither does

the farmer, although we are inclined to think that the dislike of the

latter is owing to an unfounded prejudice; true it is that our friend

_Corvus_ does sometimes eat grain, but he prefers animal food, and

oftener feeds on worms and other grain-destroyers. If you wish to find

his nest, you must climb into the tall elm tree, or far up the face of

the chalky cliff; it is made of sticks, cemented together with clay,

and lined with roots, straw, wool, moss, or any soft substance which

can be had. If in a tree, it is usually placed among the topmost

branches, or else on a bough near to the trunk, so as to be well

sheltered and hidden from view. The eggs, from four to six in number,

are of a pale bluish green or grey, speckled, some very thickly, with

light brown and deep grey.

The Crows, like the Ravens, pair for life; the work of building is

shared by both birds, and generally commences about the end of

February, or beginning of March. There is a variety of this species

which is almost wholly white, and this is the case also with the Raven.

Harrison Ainsworth has written a spirited song on the Carrion Crow, of

which this is the first verse:--

"The Carrion Crow is a sexton bold,

He raketh the dead from out the mould;

He delveth the ground like a miser old

Stealthily hiding his store of gold.

_Caw! Caw!_

The Carrion Crow hath a coat of black,

Silky and sleek, like a priest's, on his back;

Like a lawyer he grubbeth, no matter what way,

The fouler the offal the richer the prey.

_Caw! Caw! the Carrion Crow!_

_Dig! Dig! in the ground below!_"

HOODED CROW.

ROYSTON. GREY, GREY-BACKED, DUN, BUNTING, HEEDY, OR SCARE-CROW. HOODY.

FIGURE 6.

The Hooded Crow, so called, most probably, on account of the distinct

black covering of the head and neck, is not a very common bird in

England generally, although it may often be found in certain

localities, and at certain seasons, for it is partly migratory,

frequenting the southern parts of the island only in winter, usually

from October to April. In the north of Scotland, and the Hebrides and

other islands, they are always to be found, and in great numbers. In

its habits the Hooded Crow resembles the common kind, except that it is

more of a coast bird, seldom being found far from the sea-shore, or the

banks of estuaries, or tidal rivers.

Its nest is generally placed on tall trees, or the clefts and chasms of

rocks and hill sides. Mr. Morris describes it as composed of sticks,

roots, stalks, or heather, lined with wool and hair. The eggs are from

four to six in number, of a green tint, mottled over with greenish

brown; some have been found of a yellowish tinge, or with dashes and

streaks of yellow, others of a uniform dull dark green, with but few

spots or variations of any kind.

It is the opinion of some naturalists, that the Hooded and Carrion

Crows are but varieties of one species, and certain it is that they do

sometimes breed together, but there appears to be sufficient

distinctive marks and characteristics to warrant the specific

difference assumed for them by most of the leading ornithologists.

Frequenting as it does the sea-shore, the Hooded Crow, which may be

known by its distinctly marked plumage of dull grey, extending all over

the back, breast, and belly, feeds much on shell-fish, which it bears

up to a great height, and then lets fall on a large stone or piece of

rock, so as to break the shell. We have here an instance of something

very like reasoning power, in what we must call an unreasoning

creature, nor are such instances at all unfrequent in natural history.

ROOK.

BARE-FACED CROW. YDFRUN, OF THE ANCIENT BRITISH.

FIGURE 7.

Naturalists term this bird _Corvus frugilegus_. With the meaning of the

first, or generic name, our readers are already well acquainted; the

specific name comes from the Latin _fruges_--fruits, and _lego_--to

collect or gather, and from this we learn that it is a _frugiverous_ or

fruit-eating bird; it is not, however, altogether so, for it feeds much

on insects, worms, slugs, and such small animals, in search of which it

digs or delves with its large and strong beak, all around the base of

which is bare of feathers, hence the name Bare-faced Crow, by which the

bird is known in some localities. It is a matter of dispute whether or

not this bareness is caused by the constant use of the bill as a

digging instrument; we are inclined to think not, for several reasons,

which need not here be stated; but, that the bare whitish skin which

surrounds the beak, and which offers such a strong contrast to the rest

of the purplish black plumage, is a natural distinction.

Rooks are said to be more abundant in England than in any other part of

the world, although they are found in most temperate regions of Europe

and Asia; they do not, like many of the Corvine, or Crow family,

increase toward the north, but on the contrary, decrease in that

direction: in the Scottish islands they are not to be met with. They

are strictly gregarious birds, immense numbers of them building and

rearing their young together. Almost every English Village, or Hall, or

old Manor House, has, or at one time had, its "Rookery," where, on the

tops of the tall elms or other lofty trees, the sable birds delight to

build their large loose nests of sticks, cemented together with clay,

and lined with grass and root fibres. There do they hold their noisy

councils, morning and evening, but especially at the latter time,

before retiring to rest. One would think they had all the affairs of

the nation to settle, so long and loud is the debate, or at least that

there must be an immense deal of quarrelling about the right to this or

that resting-place; and more fighting, too, than there ought to be,

among a decent feathered community.