Linnaean genera:
1. Jynx.
2, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 16, 18. Motacilla.
3, 4, 5, 15. Hirundo.
8. Cuculus.
12. Charadrius.
13. Columba.
17. Rallus.
19. Caprimulgus.
14. Alauda.
20. Muscicapa.
Most soft-billed birds live on insects, and not on grain and seeds; and
therefore at the end of summer they retire: but the following
soft-billed birds, though insect-eaters, stay with us the year round:
Red-breast, Raii nomina: Rubecula:
Wren, Passer troglodytes: These frequent houses; and haunt outbuildings
in the winter; eat spiders.
Hedge-sparrow, Curruca: Haunt sinks for crumbs and other sweepings.
White-wagtail, Motacilla alba:
Yellow-wagtail, Motacilla flava:
Grey-wagtail, Motacilla cinerea: These frequent shallow rivulets near
the spring heads, where they never freeze: eat the aureliae of
Phryganea. The smallest birds that walk.
Wheat-ear, Oenanthe: Some of these are to be seen with us the winter
through.
Whin-chat, OEnanthe secunda:
Stone-chatter, OEnanthe tertia:
Golden-crowned wren, Regulus cristatus: This is the smallest British
bird: haunts the tops of tall trees; stays the winter through.
A List of the Winter Birds of Passage round this neighbourhood, ranged
somewhat in the order in which they appear:
1. Ring-ousel, Raii nomina: Merula torquata: This is a new migration
which I have lately discovered about Michaelmas week, and again about
the fourteenth of March.
2. Redwing, Turdus iliacus: About Michaelmas.
3. Fieldfare, Turdus pilaris, Though a percher by day, roosts on the
ground.
4. Royston-crew, Cornix cinerea: Most frequent on downs.
5. Wood-cock, Scolopax: Appears about old Michaelmas.
6. Snipe, Gallinago minor: Some snipes constantly breed with us.
7. Jack-snipe, Gallinago minima:
8. Wood-pigeon, OEnas: Seldom appears till late: not in such plenty as
formerly.
9. Wild-swan, Cygnus ferus: On some large waters.
10. Wild-goose, Anser ferus:
11. Wild-duck, Anas torquata minor:
12. Pochard, Anas fera fusca:
13. Widgeon, Penelope:
14. Teal, breeds with us in Wolmer-forest, Querquedula: On our lakes
and streams.
15. Gross-beak, Coccothraustes:
16. Cross-bill, Loxia:
17. Silk-tail, Garrulus bohemicus: These are only wanderers that appear
occasionally, and are not observant of any regular migration.
These birds, as they stand numerically, belong to the following
Linnaean genera:
1, 2, 3. Turdus.
4. Corvus.
5, 6, 7. Scolopax.
8. Columba.
9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14. Anas.
15, 16. Loxia.
17. Ampelis.
Birds that sing in the night are but few:
Nightingale, Luscinia: ‘In shadiest covert hid.’—MILTON.
Woodlark, Alauda arborea: Suspended in mid air.
Less reed-sparrow, Passer arundinaceus minor: Among reeds and willows.
I should now proceed to such birds as continue to sing after Midsummer,
but, as they are rather numerous, they would exceed the bounds of this
paper: besides, as this is now the season for remarking on that
subject, I am willing to repeat my observations on some birds
concerning the continuation of whose song I seem at present to have
some doubt.
I am, etc.
Letter II
To The Honourable Daines Barrington
Selborne, Nov. 2, 1769.
Dear Sir,
When I did myself the honour to write to you about the end of last June
on the subject of natural history, I sent you a list of the summer
birds of passage which I have observed in this neighbourhood; and also
a list of the winter birds of passage; I mentioned besides those
soft-billed birds that stay with us the winter through in the south of
England, and those that are remarkable for singing in the night.
According to my proposal, I shall now proceed to such birds (singing
birds strictly so called) as continue in full song till after
Midsummer; and shall range them somewhat in the order in which they
first begin to open as the spring advances.
1. Woodlark, Raii nomina: Alauda arborea: In January, and continues to
sing through all the summer and autumn.
2. Song-thrush, Turdus simpliciter dictus: In February and on to
August, reassume their song in autumn.
3. Wren, Passer troglodytes: All the year, hard frost excepted.
4. Red-breast, Rubecula: Ditto.
5. Hedge-sparrow, Curruca: Early in February to July the 10th.
6. Yellow-hammer, Emberiza flava: Early in February, and on through
July to August the 21st.
7. Skylark, Alauda vulgaris: In February, and on to October.
8. Swallow, Hirundo domestica: From April to September.
9. Black-cap, Atricapilla: Beginning of April to July 13.
10. Titlark, Alauda pratorum: From middle of April to July the 16th.
11. Blackbird, Merula vulgaris: Sometimes in February and March, and so
on to July the twenty third; reassumes in autumn.
12. White-throat, Ficedulcae affinis: In April and on to July 23.
13. Goldfinch, Carduelis: April and through to September 16.
14. Greenfinch, Chloris: On to July and August 2.
15. Less reed-sparrow, Passer arundinaceus minor: May, on to beginning
of July.
16. Common linnet, Linaria vulgaris: Breeds and whistles on till
August; reassumes its note when they begin to congregate in October,
and again early before the flock separate.
Birds that cease to be in full song, and are usually silent at or
before Midsurnmer:
17. Middle willow-wren, Regulus non cristatus: Middle of June: begins
in April.
18. Red-start, Ruticilla: Middle of June: begins in May.
19. Chaffinch, Fringilla: Beginning of June: sings first in February.
20. Nightingale, Luscinia: Middle of June: sings first in April.
Birds that sing for a short tune, and very early in the spring:
21. Missel-bird, Turdus viscivorus: January the 2nd, 1770, in February.
Is called in Hampshire and Sussex the storm-cock, because its song is
supposed to forebode windy wet weather: is the largest singing bird we
have.
22. Great tit-mouse, or ox-eye, Fringillago: In February, March, April:
reassumes for a short time in September.
Birds that have somewhat of a note or song, and yet are hardly to be
called singing birds:
23. Golden-crowned wren, Regulus cristatus: Its note as minute as its
person; frequents the tops of high oaks and firs; the smallest British
bird.
24. Marsh titmouse, Parus palustris: Haunts great woods; two harsh
sharp notes.
25. Small willow-wren, Regulus non cristatus: Sings in March and on to
September.
26. Largest ditto, Ditto: Cantat voce stridula locustae: from end of
April to August.
27. Grasshopper-lark, Alauda minima voce locustae: Chirps all night,
from the middle of April to the end of July
28. Martin, Hirundo agrestis: All the breeding time; from May to
September.
29. Bullfinch, Pyrrhula:
30. Bunting, Emberiza alba: From the end of January to July.
All singing birds, and those that have any pretensions to song, not
only in Britain, but perhaps the world through, come under the Linnaean
ordo of passeres.
The above-mentioned birds, as they stand numerically, belong to the
following Linnaean genera.
1, 7, 10, 27. Alauda.
2, 11, 21. Turdus.
3, 4, 5, 9, 12, 15, 17, 18, 20, 23, 25, 26. Motacilla.
6, 30. Emberiza.
8, 28. Hirundo.
13, 16, 19. Pringilla.
22, 24. Parus.
14, 29. Loxia.
Birds that sing as they fly are but few:
Skylark, Raii nomina. Alauda vulgaris: Rising, suspended, and falling.
Titlark, Alauda pratorum: In its descent; also sitting on trees, and
walking on the ground.
Woodlark, Alauda arborea: Suspended; in hot summer nights all night
long.
Blackbird, Merula: Sometimes from bush to bush.
White-throat, Ficedulae affinis: Uses when singing on the wing odd
jerks and gesticulations.
Swallow, Hirundo domestica: In soft sunny weather.
Wren, Passer troglodytes: Sometimes from bush to bush.
Birds that breed most early in these parts:
Raven, Corvus: Hatches in February and March.
Song-thrush, Turdus: In March.
Blackbird, Merula: In March.
Rook, Cornix frugilega: Builds the beginning of March.
Woodlark, Alauda arborea: Hatches in April.
Ring-dove, Palurnbus torquatus: Lays the beginning of April.
All birds that continue in full song till after Midsummer appear to me
to breed more than once.
Most kinds of birds seem to me to be wild and shy somewhat in
proportion to their bulk; I mean in this island, where they are much
pursued and annoyed: but in Ascension-island, and many other desolate
places, mariners have found fowls so unacquainted with an human figure,
that they would stand still to be taken; as is the case with boobies,
etc. As an example of what is advanced, I remark that the
golden-crested wren (the smallest British bird) will stand unconcerned
till you come within three or four yards of it, while the bustard
(otis), the largest British land fowl, does not care to admit a person
within so many furlongs.
I am, etc.
Letter III
To The Honourable Daines Barrington
Selborne, Jan. 15, 1770.
Dear Sir,
It was no small matter of satisfaction to me to find that you were not
displeased with my little methodus of birds. If there was any merit in
the sketch, it must be owing to its punctually. For many months I
carried a list in my pocket of the birds that were to be remarked, and,
as I rode or walked about my business, I noted each day the continuance
or omission of each bird’s song; so that I am as sure of the certainty
of my facts as a man can be of any transaction whatsoever.
I shall now proceed to answer the several queries which you put in your
two obliging letters, in the best manner that I am able. Perhaps
Eastwick, and its environs, where you heard so very few birds, is not a
woodland country, and therefore not stocked with such songsters. If you
will cast your eye on my last letter, you will find that many species
continued to warble after the beginning of July.
The titlark and yellowhammer breed late, the latter very late; and
therefore it is no wonder that they protract their song; for I lay it
down as a maxim in ornithology, that as long as there is any incubation
going on there is music. As to the red-breast and wren, it is well
known to the most incurious observer that they whistle the year round,
hard frost excepted; especially the latter.
It was not in my power to procure you a black-cap, or a less
reed-sparrow, or sedge-bird, alive. As the first is undoubtedly, and
the last, as far as I can yet see, a summer bird of passage, they would
require more nice and curious management in a cage than I should be
able to give them; they are both distinguished songsters. The note of
the former has such a wild sweetness that it always brings to my mind
those lines in a song in As You Like It,
And tune his merry note
Unto the wild bird’s throat.—Shakespeare.
The latter has a surprising variety of notes resembling the song of
several other birds; but then it also has an hurrying manner, not at
all to its advantage; it is notwithstanding a delicate polyglot.
It is new to me that titlarks in cages sing in the night; perhaps only
caged birds do so. I once knew a tame red-breast in a cage that always
sang as long as candles were in the room; but in their wild state no
one supposes they sing in the night.
I should be almost ready to doubt the fact, that there are to be seen
much fewer birds in July than in any former month, notwithstanding so
many young are hatched daily. Sure I am that it is far otherwise with
respect to the swallow tribe, which increases prodigiously as the
summer advances: and I saw, at the time mentioned, many hundreds of
young wagtails on the banks of the Cherwell, which almost covered the
meadows. If the matter appears as you say in the other species, may it
not be owing to the dams being engaged in incubation, while the young
are concealed by the leaves ?
Many times have I had the curiosity to open the stomachs of woodcocks
and snipes; but nothing ever occurred that helped to explain to me what
their subsistence might be: all that I could ever find was a soft
mucus, among which lay many pellucid small gravels.
I am, etc.
Letter IV
To The Honourable Daines Barrington
Selborne, Feb. 19, 1770.
Dear Sir,
Your observation that ‘the cuckoo does not deposit its egg
indiscriminately in the nest of the first bird that comes in its way,
but probably looks out a nurse in some degree congenerous, with whom to
intrust its young,’ is perfectly new to me; and struck me so forcibly,
that I naturally fell into a train of thought that led me to consider
whether the fact was so, and what reason there was for it. When I came
to recollect and inquire, I could not find that any cuckoo had ever
been seen in these parts, except in the nest of the wagtail, the
hedge-sparrow, the titlark, the white-throat, and the red-breast, all
soft-billed insectivorous birds. The excellent Mr. Willughby mentions
the nest of the palumbus (ring-dove), and of the fringilla (chaffinch),
birds that subsist on acorns and grains, and such hard food: but then
he does not mention them as of his own knowledge; but says afterwards
that he saw himself a wagtail feeding a cuckoo. It appears hardly
possible that a soft-billed bird should subsist on the same food with
the hard-billed: for the former have thin membranaceous stomachs suited
to their soft food; while the latter, the granivorous tribe, have
strong muscular gizzards, which, like mills, grind, by the help of
small gravels and pebbles, what is swallowed. This proceeding of the
cuckoo, of dropping its eggs as it were by chance, is such a monstrous
outrage on maternal affection, one of the first great dictates of
nature, and such a violence on instinct, that, had it only been related
of a bird in the Brazils, or Peru, it would never have merited our
belief. But yet, should it farther appear that this simple bird, when
divested of the natural στοργὴ that seems to raise the kind in general
above themselves, and inspire them with extraordinary degrees of
cunning and address, may be still endued with a more enlarged faculty
of discerning what species are suitable and congenerous nursing-mothers
for its disregarded eggs and young, and may deposit them only under
their care, this would be adding wonder to wonder, and instancing in a
fresh manner that the methods of Providence are not subjected to any
mode or rule, but astonish us in new lights, and in various and
changeable appearances.
What was said by a very ancient and sublime writer concerning the
defect of natural affection in the ostrich, may be well applied to the
bird we are talking of:
‘She is hardened against her young ones, as though they were not hers:
Because God hath deprived her of wisdom, neither hath he imparted to
her understanding.’*
* Job xxxix. 16, 17.
Query.—Does each female cuckoo lay but one egg in a season, or does she
drop several in different nests according as opportunity offers?
I am, etc.
Letter V
To The Honourable Daines Barrington
Selborne, April 12, 1770.
Dear Sir,
I heard many birds of several species sing last year after Midsummer;
enough to prove that the summer solstice is not the period that puts a
stop to the music of the woods. The yellowhammer no doubt persists with
more steadiness than any other; but the woodlark, the wren, the
red-breast, the swallow, the white-throat, the goldfinch, the common
linnet, are all undoubted instances of the truth of what I advance.
If this severe season does not interrupt the regularity of the summer
migrations, the black-cap will be here in two or three days. I wish it
was in my power to procure you one of those songsters; but I am no
birdcatcher; and so little used to birds in a cage, that I fear if I
had one it would soon die for want of skill in feeding.
Was your reed-sparrow, which you kept in a cage, the thick-billed
reed-sparrow of the Zoology, p. 320; or was it the less reed-sparrow of
Ray, the sedge-bird of Mr. Pennant’s last publication, p. 16?
As to the matter of long-billed birds growing fatter in moderate
frosts, I have no doubt within myself what should be the reason. The
thriving at those times appears to me to arise altogether from the
gentle check which the cold throws upon insensible perspiration. The
case is just the same with blackbirds, etc.; and farmers and warreners
observe, the first, that their hogs fat more kindly at such times, and
the latter that the rabbits are never in such good case as in a gentle
frost. But when frosts are severe, and of long continuance, the case is
soon altered; for then a want of food soon overbalances the repletion
occasioned by a checked perspiration. I have observed, moreover, that
some human constitutions are more inclined to plumpness in winter than
in summer.
When birds come to suffer by severe frost, I find that the first that
fail and die are the redwing-fieldfares, and then the song-thrushes.
You wonder, with good reason, that the hedge-sparrows, etc., can be
induced to sit at all on the egg of the cuckoo without being
scandalized at the vast disproportioned size of the supposititious egg;
but the brute creation, I suppose, have very little idea of size,
colour, or number. For the common hen, I know, when the fury of
incubation is on her, will sit on a single shapeless stone instead of a
nest full of eggs that have been withdrawn: and, moreover, a
hen-turkey, in the same circumstances, would sit on in the empty nest
till she perished with hunger.
I think the matter might easily be determined whether a cuckoo lays one
or two eggs, or more, in a season, by opening a female during the
laying-time. If more than one was come down out of the ovary, and
advanced to a good size, doubtless then she would that spring lay more
than one.
I will endeavour to get a hen, and to examine.
Your supposition that there may be some natural obstruction in singing
birds while they are mute, and that when this is removed the song
recommences is new and bold; I wish you could discover some good
grounds for this suspicion.
I was glad you were pleased with my specimen of the caprimulgus, or
fern-owl; you were, I find, acquainted with the bird before.
When we meet, I shall be glad to have some conversation with you
concerning the proposal you make of my drawing up an account of the
animals in this neighbourhood. Your partiality towards my small
abilities persuades you, I fear, that I am able to do more than is in
my power: for it is no small undertaking for a man unsupported and
alone to begin a natural history from his own autopsia! Though there is
endless room for observation in the field of nature, which is
boundless, yet investigation (where a man endeavours to be sure of his
facts) can make but slow progress; and all that one could collect in
many years would go into a very narrow compass.
Some extracts from your ingenious ‘Investigations of the difference
between the present temperature of the air in Italy,’ etc., have fallen
in my way, and gave me great satisfaction: they have removed the
objections that always rose in my mind whenever I came to the passages
which you quote. Surely the judicious Virgil, when writing a didactic
poem for the region of Italy, could never think of describing freezing
rivers, unless such severity of weather pretty frequently occurred!
P.S. Swallows appear amidst snows and frost.
Letter VI
To The Honourable Daines Barrington
Selborne, May 21, 1770.
Dear Sir,
The severity and turbulence of last month so interrupted the regular
progress of summer migration, that some of the birds do but just begin
to show themselves, and others are apparently thinner than usual; as
the white-throat, the black-cap, the red-start, the fly-catcher. I well
remember that after the very severe spring in the year 1739-40 summer
birds of passage were very scarce. They come probably hither with a
south-east wind, or when it blows between those points; but in that
unfavourable year the winds blowed the whole spring and summer through
from the opposite quarters. And yet amidst all these disadvantages two
swallows, as I mentioned in my last, appeared this year as early as the
eleventh of April amidst frost and snow; but they withdrew again for a
time.
I am not pleased to find that some people seem so little satisfied with
Scopoli’s new publication;* there is room to expect great things from
the hands of that man, who is a good naturalist: and one would think
that an history of the birds of so distant and southern a region as
Carniola would be new and interesting. I could wish to see that work,
and hope to get it sent down. Dr. Scopoli is physician to the wretches
that work in the quicksilver mines of that district.
* This work he calls his Annus Primus Historico-Naturalis.
When you talked of keeping a reed-sparrow, and giving it seeds, I could
not help wondering; because the reed-sparrow which I mentioned to you
(passer arundinaceus minor Raii) is a soft-billed bird; and most
probably migrates hence before winter; whereas the bird you kept
(passer torquatus Raii) abides all the year, and is a thick-billed
bird. I question whether the latter be much of a songster; but in this
matter I want to be better informed. The former has a variety of
hurrying notes, and sings all night. Some part of the song of the
former, I suspect, is attributed to the latter. We have plenty of the
soft-billed sort; which Mr. Pennant had entirely left out of his
British Zoology, till I reminded him of his omission. See British
Zoology last published, p. 16.**
** See Letter XXV to Mr. Pennant.
I have somewhat to advance on the different manners in which different
birds fly and walk; but as this is a subject that I have not enough
considered, and is of such a nature as not to be contained in a small
space, I shall say nothing farther about it at present.*
* See Letter XLIII to Mr. Barrington.
No doubt the reason why the sex of birds in their first plumage is so
difficult to be distinguished is, as you say, ‘because they are not to
pair and discharge their parental functions till the ensuing spring.’
As colours seem to be the chief external sexual distinction in many
birds, these colours do not take place till sexual attachments begin to
obtain. And the case is the same in quadrupeds; among whom, in their
younger days, the sexes differ but little: but, as they advance to
maturity, horns and shaggy manes, beards and brawny necks, etc., etc.,
strongly discriminate the male from the female. We may instance still
farther in our own species, where a beard and stronger features are
usually characteristic of the male sex: but this sexual diversity does
not take place in earlier life; for a beautiful youth shall be so like
a beautiful girl that the difference shall not be discernible:
Quem si puellarum insereres choro,
Mire sagaces falleret hospites
Discrimen obscurum, solutis
Crinibus, ambiguoque vultu.—HOR.
Letter VII
To The Honourable Daines Barrington
Ringmer, near Lewes, Oct. 8, 1770.
Dear Sir,
I am glad to hear that Kuckalm is to furnish you with the birds of
Jamaica; a sight of the hirundines of that hot and distant island would
be great entertainment to me.
The Anni of Scopoli are now in my possession; and I have read the Annus
Primus with satisfaction: for though some parts of this work are
exceptionable, and he may advance some mistaken observations; yet the
ornithology of so distant a country as Carniola is very curious. Men
that undertake only one district are much more likely to advance
natural knowledge than those that grasp at more than they can possibly
be acquainted with: every kingdom, every province, should have its own
monographer.
The reason perhaps why he mentions nothing of Ray’s Ornithology may be
the extreme poverty and distance of his country, into which the works
of our great naturalist may have never yet found their way. You have
doubts, I know, whether this Ornithology is genuine, and really the
work of Scopoli: as to myself, I think I discover strong tokens of
authenticity; the style corresponds with that of his Entomology: and
his characters of his Ordines and Genera are many of them new,
expressive, and masterly. He has ventured to alter some of the Linnaean
genera with sufficient show of reason.
It might perhaps be mere accident that you saw so many swifts and no
swallows at Staines; because, in my long observations of those birds, I
never could discover the least degree of rivalry or hostility between
the species.