The CAPIROTE, or BLACK-CAP (_Curruca atricapilla_), one of the most
highly-endowed of woodland songsters, is greyish black upon the upper
parts of the body; the under side is light grey, with the throat of a
still paler shade. In the adult male the crown of the head is deep black,
in the females and young reddish brown; the eyes are brown, the beak
black, and the feet dark grey. This species is five inches and ten lines
long, and eight inches broad; the wing measures two inches and a half and
the tail two and a quarter; the size of the female is the same as that
of her mate. It is at present uncertain whether the REDHEAD (_Curruca
ruficapilla_) is to be regarded as merely a variety of this bird, or as
an entirely different species.
The Capirote is found throughout the whole of Central Europe, and during
its migration visits the southern portion of that continent; it is also
very numerously met with in the Canary Islands, and has occasionally been
seen in Soudan. In most parts of Europe it generally makes its appearance
about April, and leaves again early in the autumn.
"When the Blackcap first arrives in this country, its chief food," says
Mr. Sweet, "consists of the early ripened berries of the ivy, and where
these are there the blackcaps are first to be heard, singing their
melodious and varied song. By the time the ivy-berries are over, the
little green larvæ of the small moths, rolled up in the young shoots and
leaves, will be getting plentiful; these then constitute their chief food
until strawberries and cherries become ripe; after that there is no fruit
or berry that is eatable or wholesome that they will refuse. When they
have cleared away the elderberries in autumn, they immediately leave us."
This species usually produces two broods in the season, and places its
comparatively well-built nest within the shelter of a thorny bush or
leafy shrub. The eggs, from four to six in number, are of an oval shape,
smooth, flesh-coloured, and marked with reddish-brown spots.
"The male birds of several species of Warblers," says Mr. Yarrell, "share
with their females the task of incubating the eggs; this is particularly
the case with the male Blackcap, readily known from the female by his
black head. So gratified is he, apparently, when performing this part of
his duty, that he will frequently sing while thus occupied, sometimes,
perhaps, occasioning the destruction of his hopes. A writer in the
'Magazine of Natural History' says he has several times been led to the
discovery of the eggs by the male singing while sitting. The female,
when taking her turn on the nest, is occasionally fed by her mate.
Generally, however, male birds neither sit so steady, or feed the young
so assiduously, as the females."
Bolle tells us that if the nestlings lose their mother her bereaved mate
will alone undertake the care of his hungry young ones. The general
habits and demeanour of the Blackcap so closely resemble those of
other members of this family that further description is unnecessary.
Nevertheless, we must allude more particularly to the peculiarities of
its beautiful song, which has been described by Mr. Yarrell:--
"The Blackcap has in common a full, deep, sweet, loud, and wild pipe,
yet that strain is of short continuance, and his motions are desultory;
but when the bird sits calmly, and engaged in song in earnest, he pours
forth a very sweet but inward melody, and expresses a great variety of
soft and gentle modulations, superior, perhaps, to any of our Warblers,
the Nightingale excepted. While this species warbles the throat is
wonderfully distended."
Bolle mentions a tame Capirote kept by a lady in Ciudad de los Palmas,
the chief town of the Canaries, that was the wonder and admiration of
the whole neighbourhood, on account of the extraordinary clearness with
which it had learnt to repeat the words _mi niño chiceritito_ (my darling
little pet), a phrase daily employed by its mistress, as she gave her
favourite its food. Large sums were offered by several persons, in the
hope of obtaining so great a curiosity as a singing bird that could
speak, but his owner was not inclined to part with her treasure; and
after tending it for several years with the utmost watchfulness, had the
grief to lose it by poison, administered, it was supposed, by some one
whose offers had been refused. When in confinement this species soon
becomes tame.
Beckstein says, "A young male which I had put into a hothouse for the
winter was accustomed to receive a meal-worm from my hand every time I
entered. This took place so regularly that immediately on my arrival he
placed himself near the little jar where I kept the meal-worms. If I
pretended not to notice this signal, he would take flight, and, passing
close under my nose, immediately resume his post; and this he repeated,
sometimes even striking me with his wing, till I satisfied his wishes and
impatience."