periodical, “Der Zoologische Garten,” in October, 1868, has given a
curious account of the conduct of two young Cuckoos, which were hatched
in the nest of a Robin. A translation of this account was published in
“The Field” of Nov. 21, 1868, and it will be unnecessary therefore to
give more than the merest outline of the facts detailed in it.
Two young Cuckoos, five or six days old, were found in a Robin’s nest,
four Robin’s eggs lying on the heath before the nest. The two birds were
extremely restless, striving to push each other out of the nest, the
smaller one always the more active. Herr Müller placed the smaller on
the back of the larger one, which immediately began to heave it upwards,
and, thrusting its claws into the moss and texture of the nest, actually
succeeded in pushing it to the edge of the nest and about four inches
further amongst the heath stems. After every contest which was observed
both birds contrived to creep back again into the nest. Ultimately the
larger one was found lying dead outside the nest, while the Robin was
sitting on the smaller bird and the eggs, which had been replaced.
The latest contribution on the subject is that of Mr. Gould, who in his
splendid folio work on “The Birds of Great Britain,” expressed himself a
disbeliever in the popular story. He has since found reason to change
his opinion, for in his recently published octavo “Introduction” to that
work he says: “I now find that the opinion ventured in my account of
this species as to the impossibility of the young Cuckoo ejecting the
young of its foster parents at the early age of three or four days is
erroneous; for a lady of undoubted veracity and considerable ability as
an observer of nature, and as an artist, has actually seen the act
performed [he seems to overlook the circumstance that others had
previously seen it], and has illustrated her statement of the fact by a
sketch taken at the time, a tracing of which has been kindly sent to
me.”
This tracing he has reproduced as an engraving in the “Introduction”
referred to, and as he has been good enough to allow me the use of the
wood block to illustrate the present remarks, the reader may consider
himself in possession of a fac-simile sketch from nature.
The following is the account given by Mrs. Blackburn (the lady referred
to) of the circumstance as it came under her observation:[105]—
“The nest which we watched last June, after finding the Cuckoo’s egg in
it, was that of the Common Meadow Pipit (Titlark, or Moss-Cheeper), and
had two Pipit’s eggs, besides that of the Cuckoo.
“It was below a heather bush, on the declivity of a low abrupt bank, on
a Highland hill-side, in Moidart. At one visit the Pipits were found to
be hatched, but not the Cuckoo.
[Illustration: Cuckoo in nest]
“At the next visit, which was after an interval of forty-eight hours, we
found the young Cuckoo alone in the nest, and both the young Pipits
lying down the bank, about ten inches from the margin of the nest, but
quite lively after being warmed in the hand. They were replaced in the
nest beside the Cuckoo, which struggled about till it got its back under
one of them, when it climbed backwards directly up the open side of the
nest, and hitched the Pipit from its back on to the edge. It then stood
quite upright on its legs, which were straddled wide apart, with the
claws firmly fixed half-way down the inside of the nest among the
interlacing fibres of which the nest was woven; and, stretching its
wings apart and backwards, it elbowed the Pipit fairly over the margin
so far that its struggles took it down the bank instead of back into the
nest.
“After this the Cuckoo stood a minute or two, feeling back with its
wings, as if to make sure that the Pipit was fairly overboard, and then
subsided into the bottom of the nest.
“As it was getting late, and the Cuckoo did not immediately set to work
on the other nestling, I replaced the ejected one and went home. On
returning next day both nestlings were found dead and cold, out of the
nest. I replaced one of them, but the Cuckoo made no effort to get under
and eject it, but settled itself contentedly on the top of it. All this
I find accords accurately with Jenner’s description of what he saw. But
what struck me most was this: The Cuckoo was perfectly naked, without a
vestige of a feather, or even a hint of future feathers; its eyes were
not yet opened, and its neck seemed too weak to support the weight of
its head. The Pipits had well-developed quills on the wings and back,
and had bright eyes, partially open; yet they seemed quite helpless
under the manipulations of the Cuckoo, which looked a much less
developed creature. The Cuckoo’s legs, however, seemed very muscular;
and it appeared to feel about with its wings, which were absolutely
featherless, as with hands, the ‘spurious wing’ (unusually large in
proportion), looking like a spread-out thumb. The most singular thing of
all was the direct purpose with which the blind little monster made for
the open side of the nest, the only part where it could throw its
burthen down the bank.”
Notwithstanding the objections put forward by sceptics, it is
impossible, after reading the evidence of the above-named independent
observers, to doubt that the young Cuckoo is capable of doing all that
has been attributed to it in the way of ejectment. But it is still very
desirable that some competent anatomist should examine and report upon
the arrangement and development of the nerves and muscles, which must
differ very considerably from those which are to be found at the same
age in the young of other insessorial birds.
[Illustration: WRYNECK]
THE WRYNECK.
(_Jynx torquilla._)
Following closely in the wake of the Cuckoo, if not occasionally
preceding it, comes the Wryneck, or Cuckoo’s-mate, as it is popularly
called from the habit referred to. In some respects it is a very
remarkable bird, for not only is its appearance quite unlike that of any
other of our summer migrants, but its actions and habits are also
totally different. In size no larger than a Skylark, it at once attracts
attention by the beauty of its plumage which, although of sombre hue, is
prettily variegated with greys and browns of different shades, here and
there relieved with black. The under parts, of a soft grey inclining to
yellow, are transversely bound with delicate wavy lines. Although for
the purpose of comparison, this species may be likened in point of size
to the familiar Lark, its structure and habits fit it for a very
different mode of life. It is a scansorial or climbing bird, like the
Woodpeckers, with toes directed two in front and two behind; hence the
term yoke-footed, which has been applied to the particular group of
birds in which it is included. The genus to which this bird belongs has
generally been associated with the genus _Picus_, to which it
undoubtedly bears some affinity. The extensibility of the tongue is the
chief character which they have in common, but in the one the extremity
is barbed, in the other it is smooth. The fourth toe in the Woodpecker
is directed somewhat outwards and backwards, whereas in the Wryneck its
natural position is directly backwards, parallel to the first. The bill
of the latter more nearly resembles that of _Picus_ than that of
_Cuculus_, although it is not wedge-shaped at the point. On the other
hand the tail has no resemblance to that of the Woodpecker. The genus
_Jynx_, therefore, seems to stand between these two genera and to form
as it were their connecting link.
The colour of the plumage so closely assimilates to that of the bark and
boughs of trees, that it is often difficult to detect the bird when in
close proximity to such surroundings. But although the Wryneck may be
considered as strictly a woodland bird, adapted by its peculiar
structure to climbing the boles of trees and probing the interstices of
the bark for lurking insects, it nevertheless finds a considerable
portion of its food on the ground, and it especially affects the
neighbourhood of ant-hills, where it preys largely on those insects and
their larvæ. In this employment its remarkable tongue, like that of the
Woodpecker’s, is of great service. It is long and slender, with a horny
point, and is capable of being protruded for more than twice the length
of the head, in consequence of the extreme elongation of the two
branches of the flexible or hyoid bone, as it is termed, which supports
the tongue, curling round at the back of the head, dividing and passing
over each eye, at the forehead, where the branches reunite and extend to
the base of the upper mandible. Two long salivary glands, situated
beneath the tongue, open into the mouth by two ducts, and secrete a
viscid fluid which covers the tongue, and thus causes ants, larvæ, and
other small insects forming the food of this species to adhere to it.
Where the soil is loose the tongue is thrust into all the crevices to
rouse the ants, and for this purpose the horny extremity is very
serviceable as a guide to the tongue. The peculiar habit which the bird
has of twisting the neck with a slow undulatory movement, like that of a
snake, has obtained for it the name of Wryneck, not only in England but
throughout the continent, wherever the bird is known.
Although common in the southern and south-eastern counties of England,
the Wryneck is only partially distributed in the British Islands, and
the limit of its geographical area is almost coincident with that of the
Nightingale before noticed. In the western and northern counties of
England, as well as in Wales, it is comparatively a scarce bird; in
Scotland it is very rare, and in Ireland quite unknown. Its arrival in
April is speedily announced by its loud and oft-repeated cry, which has
been likened to the syllable—“dear, dear, dear, dear, dear,” and which
resembles, though less harsh, the cry of the Kestrel.
In its mode of nidification, the Wryneck resembles the Woodpeckers,
selecting a hole in a tree wherein to deposit its eggs, which are six or
seven in number, pure white, and laid with little or no attempt at a
nest upon chips of decayed wood at the bottom of the hole. In about
three weeks the young are hatched, and both parents take their turn at
feeding them, bringing ants and their eggs in mouthfuls, woodlice, small
spiders, and other insects. The ants, which are gathered up wholesale by
means of the long glutinous tongue, which the bird darts amongst them
with great rapidity, are stored up in the mouth until the return to the
nest, when they are ejected in ball-like masses into the open gapes of
the clamorous young. The latter quickly assume their feathers, and by
the month of August are ready to leave the country with their parents
_en route_ for Africa, Asia Minor, and India, where they pass the cold
months of the year. But according to the observations of Lindermayer,
Dr. Kruper, and others, many spend the winter in Greece amongst the
olive groves, and Lord Lilford has seen it in Epirus in March and
December (“Ibis,” 1860, p. 235).
In Tangiers, Tripoli, Algeria, Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia, it is by no
means uncommon. It occurs also in Arabia, and according to Dr. Jerdon
(“Birds of India,” vol. i. p. 303) is found throughout India, except,
perhaps, on the Malabar Coast, where he never saw it, or heard of a
specimen being procured. He adds, “It is chiefly, perhaps, a
cold-weather visitant in the south of India; but it is found to remain
all the year further north.”
I have already touched upon the question whether any of our summer
migrants breed in their winter quarters, as well as in their summer
haunts (see p. 41), and it may be well to note here the above remark of
Dr. Jerdon, as well as the observation of Captain Loche, that the
Wryneck breeds in the forests of Algeria. It of course remains to be
shown whether the individuals which rear their young south of the
Mediterranean, ever migrate into Europe; for it is possible that Algeria
may be the northern-most limit in summer of those birds which have
passed the winter many degrees further south than have the migrants from
Europe.
[Illustration: HOOPOE]
THE HOOPOE.
(_Upupa epops._)
Amongst the large number of migratory birds which resort to the British
Islands in spring for the purpose of nidification, are a few which come
to us accidentally, as it were, or as stragglers from the main body of
immigrants which, crossing the Mediterranean from Africa, becomes
dispersed over the greater part of Europe. The Hoopoe is one of these.
Not a summer elapses without the appearance, and, I regret to say, the
destruction, of several of these beautiful birds being chronicled in
some one or other of the many periodicals devoted to Natural History. If
the thoughtless persons, whose first impulse on seeing an uncommon bird,
is to procure a gun and shoot it, would only take as much pains to
afford it protection for a time, observe its habits, describe its mode
of nesting and manner of feeding its young, they would do a much greater
service to ornithology by recording the result of their observations,
than by publishing the details of a wanton destruction.
That the Hoopoe will breed in this country, if unmolested, is evidenced
by the recorded instances in which it has done so where sufficient
protection has been afforded it during the nesting season. Montagu
states, in his “Ornithological Dictionary,” that a pair of Hoopoes began
a nest in Hampshire, and Dr. Latham has described a young Hoopoe which
was brought to him in the month of June. A pair frequented Gilbert
White’s garden at Selborne; and another pair nested for several years in
the grounds of Pennsylvania Castle, Portland.[106] Mr. Jesse states[107]
that some years ago a pair of Hoopoes built their nest and hatched their
young in a tree close to the house at Park End, near Chichester; and
according to the observations of Mr. Turner, of Sherborne, Dorsetshire,
the nest has been taken, on three or four occasions, by the schoolboys
from pollard willows on the banks of the river Lenthay. The birds were
known to the boys as “Hoops.”
In the same county, on the authority of the Rev. O. P. Cambridge, a pair
of Hoopoes are reported to have bred at Warmwell. The Rev. A. C. Smith,
of Calne, Wilts, says that a nest, containing young birds, was taken
many years ago in his neighbourhood; and another nest, according to Mr.
A. E. Knox, was found at Southwick, near Shoreham. Canon Tristram states
that the Hoopoe has bred at least on one occasion, in Northamptonshire.
Mr. Howard Saunders informs me that many years ago a pair of Hoopoes
took possession of a hole in a yew tree in the shrubbery of a garden at
Leatherhead, and reared their young in safety. He afterwards saw both
old and young birds strutting about on the lawn. I have seldom met with
this bird in England, and then only on the coast in September, when the
beauty of its plumage had become faded, and the feathers ragged, and it
was about to emigrate southwards for the winter. But on the continent,
and more particularly in France, I have had many opportunities of
observing it, and noting its actions and habits. In its movements on the
ground it struck me as resembling the Rook more than any other bird I
could think of at the time; the same stately tread and gentle nodding of
the head, every now and then stopping to pick up something. It does not
carry the crest erect, but inclining backwards, and is less sprightly in
its movements generally than I had previously supposed. On the wing it
at first sight reminds one of a Jay, the principal colours being the
same, viz., black, white, and pale cinnamon brown; but the distribution
of colour is different, and the flight is not so rapid, and more
undulating. The wings are large for the size of the bird, and the
first-quill feather being much shorter than the second, the wing has a
rounded appearance which makes the flight seem heavier.
It is a shy bird, taking wing on the least alarm, except when surprised
by a hawk or other large bird, when, according to the observations of
the German naturalists, Naumann and Bechstein, it resorts to a very
singular expedient to protect itself. It squats upon the ground, spreads
out its tail and wings to their fullest extent, bringing the primaries
round so as almost to meet in front, and throws back its head and bill,
which it holds up perpendicularly.[108] So long as danger threatens, it
remains in this odd position, probably to deceive the enemy; for when
thus spread out, at a little distance it looks more like an old
parti-coloured rag than a living bird.
The Hoopoe lives a good deal on the ground where it finds its chief
food, which consists of beetles of various kinds, and their larvæ,
caterpillars, and ants. It is especially partial to dung-beetles, and
may often be seen in search of them upon the roads, where it is also
fond of dusting after the manner of a Skylark. But besides picking up a
great deal of food from the surface, it also probes beneath the soil
where the nature of the ground admits of this, and secures many a worm
and lurking grub by means of its long and slender pointed bill. It
swallows a beetle or other small morsel just as the Hornbills in the
Zoological Society’s Gardens swallow the grapes which are thrown to
them, that is to say, it seizes it first between the tips of the
mandibles, then throwing the head back suddenly, and opening the bill at
the same instant, the food is jerked into the gullet with great
precision, and disappears. When it seizes a worm, however, the process
is somewhat different. It bruises it by beating it against the ground,
pinches it all over between the mandibles, and finally swallows it
lengthwise with sundry jerks of the head.
In other respects, as well as in the mode of taking their food, the
Hoopoes resemble the Hornbills. They build in holes of trees as the
latter are known to do, and the hens sit upon the eggs without
interruption until they are hatched, the males, as in the case of the
Hornbills, bringing food and feeding them from the outside of the hole.
The eggs, which are generally five or six in number, are elongated,
nearly oval, and of a greenish grey colour. The young when first hatched
are naked, but soon get covered with small blue quills from which the
feathers sprout. They are unable to stand upright until nearly fledged,
but crouch forward and utter a hissing noise. Their crests are soon
developed, but their bills do not acquire their full length until the
following year.
Lord Lilford states that although the Hoopoe as a rule prefers a hole in
an old ash or willow tree for nesting in, he has seen a nest on the
ground under a large stone, others in holes on the sunny side of mud or
brick walls, one in a fissure of limestone rock, and another in a small
cavern.
Dr. Carl Bolle has observed that in the Canaries, where trees are
scarce, the Hoopoe breeds in holes of the stone walls and clefts of the
rocks.
During his residence in China, where this bird is common, Mr. Swinhoe
was surprised to find that it often breeds in the holes of exposed
Chinese coffins, whence the natives have a great aversion to them,
branding them as “Coffin-birds;” and the Russian naturalist Pallas once
found a nest of the Hoopoe, containing seven young ones nearly ready to
fly, in the decomposed abdominal cavity of a dead body!
The note of the Hoopoe is very remarkable, and not to be mistaken for
that of any other bird with which I am acquainted. It sounds like the
syllables “hoop-hoop,” “hoop-hoop,” frequently repeated, and in the
quality of its tone approximates to the call of the Cuckoo, but the
second note is a repetition of the first instead of being, as in the
case of the Cuckoo, a third below it. Old authors affirmed that this
peculiar sound was produced by the bird distending its cheeks with air,
and tapping its bill upon the ground, thereby causing the notes to
escape as it were spasmodically. This curious statement has received
some confirmation from the observations of Mr. Swinhoe.[109] He says:
“To produce these notes, the bird draws the air into its trachea, which
puffs out on either side of the neck, and the end of the bill is tapped
perpendicularly against a stone or the trunk of a tree, when the breath
being forced down the tubular bill produces the correct sound.” He adds,
however, that he has observed a Hoopoe perched upon a hanging rope, and
uttering its well-known cry without any tapping of the bill.
I cannot help thinking that a bird observed in the act of calling
_whilst picking up food_, as many species do, has given rise to the
notion that the sound is _produced_ by tapping, whereas in truth it
precedes and follows the movement. The only motion that I could ever
detect in a Hoopoe whilst calling was a nodding of the head, and a
depression of the crest-feathers.
From the accounts which have been handed down to us by old authors, and
the numerous specimens which may be seen preserved in old collections,
it would appear that the Hoopoe was formerly much more plentiful in
England than it is at the present day. The decrease in its numbers
probably arises from two causes, viz., the clearance of forest land,
entailing the destruction of many old trees which were once attractive
as nesting places,[110] and the increased use of fire-arms which
unfortunately results in the destruction of many of these beautiful
birds, at a time when they are just about to pair and commence
nidification.
The period of its migration into Europe in the spring sets in early in
April. The late Commander Sperling, when stationed with his vessel in
the Mediterranean, frequently met with Hoopoes at sea during their
passage. In the English Channel on the 15th April, 1854, a Hoopoe after
flying two or three times round a steamer entered one of the windows of
the saloon and was taken, apparently exhausted with fatigue. Another, on
the 21st April, alighted on a mackerel-boat between the Eddystone
Lighthouse and Plymouth Breakwater, in an exhausted state, and allowed
itself to be taken.
The average date of arrival in England may be said to be the third week
in April, when the species is more frequently met with in the eastern
and south-eastern counties, although it wanders inland to a considerable
distance. It is regarded by Mr. R. Gray[111] as a straggler to Scotland;
and Mr. Thompson remarks[112] that in Ireland it has appeared
occasionally in all quarters of the island.
As autumn approaches, these birds, or such of them as have contrived to
escape destruction, begin to move southwards for the winter, and passing
gradually down to the Mediterranean, are observed for some days about
the groves and olive gardens near the sea before they finally cross
over. In this way they return to their winter haunts about the end of
August or beginning of September. Throughout Southern and South-eastern
Europe, as well as in Siberia and North-eastern Africa, the Hoopoe
breeds commonly; but in the northern and western parts of the last-named
continent it is chiefly a winter visitant. The Siberian birds, probably,
and not the European ones, migrate to India and China for the cold
season, and some remain to breed in both these countries. Those which
have passed the summer in Europe, as already shown, spend their winter
in Africa.
Occasionally a Hoopoe has been observed in winter in the British
Islands, but so rarely as to make the occurrence a matter of note. An
instance or two of this kind in Norfolk has been noticed by Hunt in his
“British Birds” (vol. ii. p. 147); and Mr. R. Gray, in his “Birds of the
West of Scotland,” p. 198, refers to two which were killed near Glasgow,
in different years, so late as the month of October.
The late Sir William Jardine informed me that two were shot in
Dumfriesshire in the winter of 1870-71.
The most perfect specimen of the Hoopoe I have ever seen is one in my
collection, which was shot at the Dell, a piece of water near Whetstone,
Middlesex, on the 25th April, 1852. It has no less than twenty-two crest
feathers the longest two inches in length, arranged in two parallel
rows, with the upper surfaces outwards, and of a pale cinnamon colour
broadly tipped with black. The other portions of the plumage are equally
perfect and bright in colour.
[Illustration: GOLDEN ORIOLE]
THE GOLDEN ORIOLE.
(_Oriolus galbula._)