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CASSELL'S
BOOK OF BIRDS.

FROM THE TEXT OF DR. BREHM.

BY

THOMAS RYMER JONES, F.R.S.,

PROFESSOR OF NATURAL HISTORY AND COMPARATIVE ANATOMY IN KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON.

WITH UPWARDS OF

Four Hundred Engravings, and a Series of Coloured Plates.

IN FOUR VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON:
CASSELL, PETTER, AND GALPIN;
AND NEW YORK.

CONTENTS.

[CRACKERS (Enucleatores).]

[PASSERINE BIRDS (Passeres).]

[RAVENS (Coracirostres).]

[CATCHERS (Captantes).]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

[INTRODUCTION.]

[CLASSIFICATION OF BIRDS.]

CASSELL'S BOOK OF BIRDS.

EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION.

e were some time ago both delighted and astonished by the performances of a German artist, who imitated with wonderful exactness the notes of a variety of birds. The song of the nightingale and the warblings of the skylark, the whistling of the throstle and the out-poured melody of the canary, were gone through with such perfect execution, that the birds themselves, we thought, could scarcely have detected a flaw in the performance. This gifted individual introduced himself to his audience by a somewhat humorous account of the manner in which he had acquired his extraordinary powers. He told us that his father, who was a breeder of birds, had upon one occasion gone from home, leaving a bag of rice as provision for his children, and a quantity of bird-seed for his feathered protégés. By some mistake the rice had been given to the birds, and the bird-seed to the children, the consequence being, that on the gentleman's return he found his birds all dead, and his children singing like piping bullfinches. How far this explanation was satisfactory we will not stop to inquire; but we have sometimes been almost tempted to suppose that some similar accident must be of frequent occurrence in Germany. The deep acquaintance of the ornithologists of that country with the objects of their study, and the fidelity with which they note down the minutest incidents connected with the history of their favourites, surpassing anything achieved by other naturalists, not even excepting such enthusiastic labourers as Wilson and Audubon, demands our warmest praise; while the patient industry, so conspicuous in their writings, at once calls for and excites our admiration.

Among the foremost of his countrymen in the cultivation of ornithological research stands the author of the magnificent work whose pages it is our wish to lay before English readers. Not content with studying the natural history of his favourites from books, or even in the rich scientifically arranged collections contained in so many Continental museums, his zeal led him to follow them even into their own wild retreats, and, gun in hand, to penetrate the burning deserts of Eastern Africa, and the equally inhospitable, and then but little known, regions of Abyssinia. By thus familiarising himself with the habits of birds in their native haunts, and amid the scenery whereby they are surrounded in a state of nature, he has been enabled to impart a freshness to his descriptions as characteristic of the real naturalist as the smell of new-made hay is redolent of fields and hedgerows, and no more to be imitated by the mere compiler than the voice of an orator by the reporter of his speeches.

Before, however, we permit our author to speak for himself, it may perhaps be desirable to preface his remarks by a few general observations concerning the structure of the beautiful creatures that form the subjects of his teaching, inasmuch as it is obviously desirable to have clear notions concerning the machinery employed before its adaptation to its intended uses can be made manifest; and further, because in the study of ornithology, as in every other branch of natural history, there are certain conventional terms that may require explanation before the words used in describing an object are intelligible to the uninitiated.

The Bird is an inhabitant of the air in the fullest sense of the expression. The atmosphere is emphatically the sphere of its activity; it mounts it as it would a ladder; it sails through it in triumph, and rides upon the winds as upon a fleet steed. Moreover, it is the atmosphere itself which endows the feathered Ariel with such capabilities, and it is in the perfection of his respiration that we must search for an explanation of his wonderful achievements.

Fig. 1.—RESPIRATORY APPARATUS OF A FOWL.

a, the Lungs, immovably fixed; c, d, the Breast-bone, moving as upon a hinge at b, so that it can be raised to the position indicated by dotted lines at h. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Cells, with membranous walls, into which the air is freely admitted during the act of inspiration.

The muscular activity of every animal is intimately dependent upon the efficiency of its breathing apparatus, upon the freedom with which the vital element finds admission to the blood which it is destined to renovate, and upon which it confers those qualities so inseparably connected with the elimination of increased temperature, and the vigour of muscular action. In this respect, as we shall see immediately, the feathered races surpass all living creatures, with the exception, perhaps, of the members of the insect creation.

The lungs of a bird are not suspended, like those of a quadruped, within a circumscribed chest or thoracic cavity, in such a manner as to become inflated by each inspiration; they are rather to be described as soft, porous, and highly vascular organs, through which the air passes as through the interior of a sponge. The movements of the chest, upon which depend the inspiration and expiration of the atmospheric fluid, may be compared to those of a bellows continually employed in taking in and expelling the surrounding element by a mechanism represented in the accompanying figure (Fig. 1). The framework of the chest, consisting of the ribs and of the breast-bone, is so put together that at each inspiration it can be raised, as shown in the drawing, from the position d to the position h, thus materially enlarging the thoracic chamber, just as the upper board of an ordinary bellows is raised for the purpose of taking in the air; but, in this case, the surrounding element, instead of entering through a valve-defended orifice, rushes down the windpipe, and through the immovable, sponge-like lungs, permeating the wide passages with which they are perforated, and not only filling the entire thorax, but penetrating into the interior of the very bones, which are left marrowless for its reception.

The mechanism whereby expiration is effected is equally simple; just as, when the upper board of the bellows is depressed, the air is forced out through the nozzle, so, by the return of the breast-bone to its former position, the inspired air is again forced to pass through the lungs and make its escape by means of the windpipe. By this process it is obvious that the vital element—the oxygen of the atmosphere—being admitted to every part of the system, the blood is vitalised to the greatest possible extent, its temperature is raised until the heat of the body of a bird is far greater than that of an ordinary quadruped, and its vitality is proportionately exalted. Consequently, as the blood circulates through the system, it carries with it heat and life in superabundance; the energies of the entire system are roused to the uttermost; the fibres of every muscle quiver with intense life, like a steam-engine working under high pressure, thus enabling the falcon to cleave the skies with the velocity of a falling thunderbolt, and not only qualifying the swallow for its rapid flight, but enabling it to achieve its wonderful migrations.

This admission of air into every part of the system serves not only to fan the vital flame, and rouse the energies of the bird to an extraordinary degree of tension; it likewise assists in giving buoyancy to its movements, bearing it upward, as the gas does a balloon; for it is evident that the air received into the body being raised to a temperature corresponding to the heat of its blood, the specific gravity of the bird is proportionately diminished, and it rises into the air almost without an effort, and even hovers in the sky with scarcely a perceptible movement of its wings.

A knowledge of the mechanism of their mode of respiration will likewise enable us to explain another remarkable feature in the history of the feathered tribes, namely, their power of song. Who that has listened to the prolonged warblings of a linnet, the flood of melody poured forth from the little throat of the canary, the "lengthened sweetness long drawn out" which almost pains the enraptured ear as we listen to the song of the nightingale, but has wondered how such tiny birds can ever find sufficient breath for the utterance of such long-sustained, such interminable notes? What would our prima-donnas at the opera give for but the tithe of the capacity of these favoured little songsters? No human breast could ever hold sufficient breath for such performances. We now see, however, that the vocal organs of a bird are exactly adapted to the nature of their music. Their whole body is a bellows, as large in proportion to their size as the bellows of an organ is in relation to the pipes into which it has to pour the sound. The little bird is, in fact, a living harmonium—its singing apparatus is not situated at the top of its throat, but is implanted in the inferior termination of its windpipe; and just as the tongue of the harmonium is thrown into vibration by the issuing current of air caused by pressure upon the bellows, so are the vocal chords of the feathered songster rendered sonorous as the air passes over them. In proportion to the capacity of the bellows must be the duration of the note, and we have already seen that the air-cells of the bird are capable of furnishing a supply not easily exhausted. There is, however, this remarkable difference between the two instruments: the tongue of each key of the harmonium can give utterance but to one sound—one never-varying tone—while the corresponding part of the bird, rendered more or less tense by muscles provided for the purpose, contains within itself a whole gamut, and there is not a note in the scale that is not instantly at the command of the inimitable little musician. In the perching birds, among which are found by far the most accomplished singers, five pairs of muscles are connected with this exquisitely-contrived apparatus, and are so disposed as to influence both the diameter and the length of the air-passages. In the parrots three pairs are met with; some of the swimming birds have two, while others have only one; and in a few—as the king of the vultures and the condor—vocal muscles are quite wanting.

Seeing that the temperature of birds is raised so much above the usual standard by the arrangements described above, some clothing is requisite, adequate to retain the vital heat. Another indispensable provision is therefore met with in the Feathers with which all birds are so warmly clad. Indeed, so peculiar is the texture of these admirable fabrics, that no better distinctive appellation could be devised for the entire class than that of the "feathered tribes," by which they are frequently designated. A feather realises in its structure more qualities than imagination could have conceived it possible to combine—lightness, thickness, warmth, durability, elasticity, softness, strength, and beauty. It is one of the master-works of creation. Whoever has examined a feather under the microscope will testify to the incomparable perfection of the contrivance. Every feather is a mechanical wonder. If we look at the quill-portion, or barrel, we find it possessed of attributes not easily brought together—strength and lightness. If we cast our eye upon the upper part of the stem, we see a material made for the purpose, which is used in no other class of animals, and in no other part of birds—tough, light, pliant, elastic—the pith. This is also a substance sui generis; it is neither bone, flesh, membrane, nor horn.

Fig. 2.—WING OF A BIRD PARTIALLY STRIPPED OF FEATHERS, TO SHOW THE INSERTIONS OF THE QUILLS.

a, the Arm; d, the Fore-arm; g, the Thumb; c, the Secondary Quills, implanted into the Fore-arm; f, the Primary Quills, implanted into that portion of the Wing which represents the hand; e, the Spurious or Bastard Quills, derived from the Thumb.

But the most wonderfully constructed part of a feather is the plume, or, as it is sometimes called, the web. This is affixed to each side of the stem, and constitutes the broad expansion of the feather, that part which we usually strip off when making a pen. One of the first things to be remarked is that the web is much stronger when pressed in a direction perpendicular to the flat plane of the plume than when rubbed either up or down in the direction of the stem; the reason of this is that the web is composed of numerous flat, thin, and broad laminæ, arranged with their flat sides together, so that, although they easily bend towards each other, they offer great resistance in the direction in which they have to encounter the impulse and pressure of the air; and it is in this direction only that their strength is wanted and put to the test.

Fig. 3.—NASCENT FEATHER OF A CHICKEN.

c, the External Horny Sheath, slit open; d, d, Web of the Feather produced in successive layers from the central stem, e.

Another particularity is still more admirable. Whoever examines a feather cannot help noticing that the laminæ of which we have been speaking, in their natural state seem to be fastened together. Their adhesion to each other is manifestly something more than mere apposition; they are not to be separated without a certain degree of force, and, as there is evidently no glutinous cohesion between them, it is plain that by some mechanical means or other they catch or clasp among themselves, thereby giving to the web its closeness and compactness of texture. Nor is this all. When two laminæ which have been separated by accident or design are brought together again, they immediately reclasp; the connection, whatever it was, is perfectly restored, and the web of the feather becomes as smooth and firm as if nothing had happened to it. Draw your finger down the feather, which is, so to speak, against the grain, and you will probably destroy the junction between some of the contiguous laminæ; draw your finger up the feather in the opposite direction, and you restore all to their former state of coherence. This is no common contrivance. Let us now inquire concerning the mechanism whereby it is effected. The laminæ above mentioned, examined individually, are found to be provided with vast numbers of long fibres, or teeth, which project from their edges in such a manner that, when placed in contact, those of contiguous laminæ hook and grapple together. The fibres are extremely minute; indeed, fifty of them have been counted by means of the microscope in the space of the 1/20th of an inch. Every fibre is crooked, but bent after a definite manner; those that proceed from one edge of a lamina are long, flexible, and bent downwards, whereas those that proceed from the opposite edge are shorter, firmer, and turned upwards. The manner in which they are united is, therefore, as follows: When two contiguous laminæ are pressed together, so that the long fibres are forced far enough over the short ones, their crooked parts fall into the angles formed by the crooked parts of the others, just as the latch of a door falls into the cavity of the catch fixed to the door-post, and there hooking itself, fastens the door. This admirable structure, which may be readily seen with a very ordinary microscope, ensures not only the union of the laminæ, but renders it possible that when any two of them have been separated by violence they will become re-connected with facility and expedition. In the ostrich, this apparatus of crotchets and fibres, of hooks and eyes, is wanting; the filamentary laminæ hang loose and separate, forming a kind of down; but such a plan of construction, however it may fit the plumes for the flowing honours of a lady's head-dress, must be considered as detrimental to the bird, inasmuch as wings composed of such feathers, although they may assist in running, will not serve for flight.

The power of inflating their whole body with air, and the possession of feathers, are therefore the most distinctive endowments of a bird, inasmuch as these attributes are quite peculiar to the class.

To creatures thus gifted with strength and activity so extraordinary, it is manifest that perceptions of great acuteness are requisite, corresponding with the rapidity of their movements and the intelligence necessary for the performance of the important duties entrusted to their charge; and in this respect, as will be made manifest by a perusal of their history, they occupy a position in the economy of nature fully equal or even superior to that enjoyed by the most favoured quadrupeds. The mental faculties of the parrots correspond with those of the monkeys, whom in their habits and capabilities these birds closely resemble; in cunning they are quite upon a par with their four-handed neighbours, with which, in the forests of tropical countries, they are so generally associated; and when removed from their native woods, and made, as they often are, the companions of mankind, the facility with which they can be taught to imitate human actions—nay, to mimic our very speech—bears ample testimony to the exalted character of their mental capacities.

On examining the brain of a bird, the anatomist is therefore by no means surprised to find that, both in its development and in the perfection of its structure, it surpasses that of many quadrupeds. The proportionate volume of the brain of some of our singing birds, as compared with the dimensions of their body, is astonishing, and reveals to us at a glance the reason why these little favourites are so sagacious and so eminently susceptible of education. (See Fig. 4.)

Fig. 4.—HEAD OF A SWAN (Cygnus olor).

The upper part of the skull has been removed to show the brain and eyes in situ. a, a, the Cerebral Hemispheres; b, the Cerebellum; c, the Spinal Cord. All the above parts are represented covered by their investing membranes. e, Sinuses of the Dura Mater; g, g, Walls of the Skull; h, h, Base of the Beak; m, Optic Nerve of the Left Eye; p, p, Large sentient Nerves supplying the Bill; v, Bony Ring in front of the Eye-ball; x, x, Transparent Cornea; 1, 3, 5, 7, Muscles moving the Eye-ball.

In strict correspondence with this exalted condition of their cerebral organisation are the senses whereby they hold intercourse with surrounding nature. Their power of vision is beyond our comprehension, and the elaborate contrivances whereby the eye of a bird is adapted to its peculiar mode of life, might furnish materials for a lengthy treatise, imperfect as is our knowledge of the numerous delicate arrangements demonstrable by anatomical skill in every part of its structure. At present we can but briefly allude to a few of the more conspicuous peculiarities wherein the visual apparatus of a bird differs from that of other creatures.

The distances from which the vulture and the hawk can see their prey are almost incredible. To have the "eye of a hawk," to see with "eagle glance," are expressions which, though common enough, give but a very feeble idea of the extent to which those birds are gifted in this respect, or of the vast expanse bounded by their horizon. The falcon sees its diminutive prey from an altitude at which it is itself invisible, and from the very sky swoops down upon its quarry with the velocity of a shot, rarely missing its victim, and thus proving at once the perfection of its sight and the steadiness of its aim. The eye of these birds must therefore be constructed after the plan of a telescope, and its focus adapted to long-sightedness. Its axis must be lengthened to an extent greater than is compatible with a spherical form of the eye-ball. To meet this requirement a circlet of bony plates, constituting a firm but at the same time somewhat flexible ring or hoop, is introduced into the composition of the outer coat of the eye, whereby the requisite elongation is effected, and the organ is thus adapted for perfect vision at a great distance. (See Fig. 4.)

The above beautiful arrangement, however, constitutes but a part of the mechanism required. A telescope adjusted for distant vision is quite useless when brought to bear upon an object close at hand, and its focus must necessarily be altered in accordance with the changed conditions. In the case of the telescope, the needful adjustment would be effected by shortening or lengthening the sliding tube; but in the bird some other plan is evidently indispensable, and few contrivances in animal mechanics are more admirable than that which is adopted. Embedded in the transparent vitreous humour of the eye is a peculiar apparatus called the "marsupium," the texture of which resembles that of the human iris. Now the iris, as we all know, being eminently sensitive to the intensity of light, by its spontaneous contractions and dilatations is enabled to alter the diameter of the pupil of the eye, and thus exactly control the quantity of light admitted. The marsupium, equally sensitive, and equally spontaneous in its action, swells or contracts its dimensions, filling or emptying itself like a sponge, and thus adjusting the lenses of the eye so as to secure perfect vision at whatever distance the object to be seen may be placed. The quickness of sight with which birds are gifted is equally remarkable. The swallow is proverbially one of the swiftest flyers in the feathered creation, and yet in the full career of its flight it is looking on the right hand and on the left, upwards and downwards, for its food. The insects upon which it preys are often exceedingly minute, sometimes flying above and sometimes below the level of the swallow's course, and yet they are seen and captured without any diminution of the prodigious rate at which the bird is flying. Nay, more, any one who attentively watches one of these birds skimming over a meadow, may perceive that it will capture two or even three insects in such quick succession as to convince him that the swallow must have "had an eye upon them" all at once, and yet they are caught, as it were, in a moment.

Fig. 5.—SECTION OF THE HEAD OF AN EAGLE, SHOWING THE STRUCTURE OF THE EYE.

Another admirable contrivance peculiar to the feathered race, is the existence of a thin, semi-transparent veil, which, when requisite, can be instantaneously drawn over the front of the eye. This apparatus, generally known as the "nictitating membrane," is useful for a variety of purposes; it sweeps over the eye to cleanse it from dust, it diffuses the tears which keep it bright and polished, it will act as a screen to shut out the too great intensity of light, so that with its assistance the eagle can confront the sun even at noon-day; it will likewise defend the eye from sudden injuries, and yet, even when drawn like a curtain over the pupil, not shut out the light. The commodious manner in which this membrane lies folded up in the inner corner of the eye, and the quickness with which it executes its purpose, are known to every observer; but what is equally admirable, though not quite so obvious, is the employment of two kinds of material, and the combination of two kinds of force, by which the movements of this membrane are effected. It is not, as in ordinary cases, by the action of two antagonist muscles, the one pulling it forward and the other backward, but the membrane itself, being elastic, is capable of being drawn out like a thin sheet of india-rubber, and of returning to its former position when the force acting upon it is removed. Such being its nature, in order to adapt it for its office it is connected by a tendon with a muscle situated at the back part of the eye. This tendon, though strong, is so fine as not to obstruct the sight, even when it passes across the pupil, and the muscle which moves it being situated deeply within the orbit, derives from its situation the advantage of not only being secure from injury, but of being out of the way, which it hardly would have been in any position that could be assigned to it in the front of the eye, where its function really lies. When this muscle contracts, the membrane, by means of the communicating tendon, is instantly drawn, as it were, by a thread, over the transparent cornea, and when the muscle ceases to act, the elasticity of the membrane is sufficient to bring it back into its former position. (See Fig. 6.)

Fig. 6.—EYE OF AN OWL, SHOWING THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE NICTITATING MEMBRANE.

Both eyelids are divided through their middle, and everted, so as to display the Nictitating Membrane, a, and the passage for the tears (puncta lacrymalia), b.

But this is not all. In the arrangement of the muscle which, though placed behind the eye, draws the nictitating membrane in front of it, there is what justly deserves to be called a marvellous piece of mechanical contrivance. The extent of contraction necessary to draw the membrane over the whole front of the visual organ would require a much longer muscle than could have been placed in such a situation; in order to meet this difficulty, the tendon which draws forth the nictitating membrane is made to pass through a loop in another muscle, as represented in the next wood-cut (Fig. 7), where it is evident that, by the simultaneous contraction of both these muscles, the extent of their action when drawing the nictitating membrane over the eye is considerably increased. Neither is this the only advantage derived from so ingenious a contrivance; were it not for the plan adopted, the tendon of the muscle u x would press upon the optic nerve, and thus materially interfere with vision—an inconvenience that by the existing arrangement is totally prevented. Devices like these, whereby special machinery is introduced for special purposes, speak for themselves; we acknowledge their beauty, and in them we recognise at once the wisdom and the goodness of the Creator.

Fig. 7.—MUSCLES OF THE EYE-BALL AND OF THE NICTITATING MEMBRANE.

The Muscles of the Eye-ball, p, q, r, s, are separated from their origins, and turned aside, to show the "trochlearis" or "quadratus," t, and the "pyramidalis," u, x; the latter of which passes through a loop in the former, so as to gain a double extent of effect with a given length of fibre.

The SENSE OF SMELL in birds has afforded subject-matter for much discussion, and great obscurity still exists with reference to the extent to which they make use of their olfactory organs. It has been generally asserted that birds of prey are gifted with an acute perception of odours, and are thus enabled to discover their food at a distance; but the rapidity with which vultures are known to assemble round the carcase of an animal too recently killed to attract them by putrefactive exhalations, has induced many observers to consider them as being directed entirely by sight. That this latter is the preferable theory appears to be sufficiently established by the experiments of Audubon, which go to show that these birds possess a sense of smell very far inferior to that conferred upon carnivorous quadrupeds, and that, so far from guiding them to their prey from a distance, it affords them no indication of its presence even when close at hand.

Having procured the skin of a deer, M. Audubon stuffed it full of hay, and after the whole had become perfectly dry and hard, he placed it in the middle of an open field, laying it down on its back in the attitude of a dead animal. In the course of a few minutes he perceived a vulture flying towards and alighting near it. Quite unsuspicious of the deception, the bird immediately proceeded to attack the carcase, as usual, in the most vulnerable points. Failing in this, he next, with much exertion, tore open the seams with which the skin had been stitched, and appeared earnestly intent upon getting at the flesh which he expected to find within, and of the absence of which not one of his senses was able to inform him. Finding that his efforts, which were long reiterated, led to no other result than the pulling out of sundry quantities of hay, he at length, though with evident reluctance, gave up the attempt, and took flight in pursuit of other game.

Another experiment, the converse of the preceding, was then tried:—A large dead hog was concealed in a narrow and winding ravine, about twenty feet deeper than the level of the ground around it, and filled with briars and high cane. This was done in the month of July, in a tropical climate, where putrefaction takes place with great rapidity; yet, although many vultures were seen sailing in all directions over the spot where the putrid carcase was lying covered only with twigs of cane and light underwood, none of them appeared at all to suspect its presence.

Nevertheless, notwithstanding the apparently decisive result of the above experiments, anatomy teaches us that the olfactory apparatus in this class of animals is largely developed, and indicates by its extent that it is well adapted to investigate the odorous properties of the air taken in for respiration.

The SENSE OF HEARING in birds is remarkably acute, as might be readily inferred from the vocal capabilities conferred upon many of these gifted songsters. Their music is certainly not less appreciated by the performers than it is by their auditors. "Nobody can doubt," observes Bishop Stanley, "who sees a bird singing, clapping its little wings, turning from side to side, and glancing its bright eyes in all directions, as if courting attention and admiration, that it feels delight and satisfaction. Did we require further proof, we have but to recollect that the song-bird is most alert with the music of its voice when its affections and interests are awakened by its mate during the time of rearing its young." It is, indeed, principally during the breeding-season that the singing power of birds is in full activity; and seeing that in general it is only the male that possesses the musical faculty, we may naturally suppose that its exercise is intended for the solace and amusement of his mate during her confinement to her nest. The nightingale himself becomes voiceless so soon as the appearance of his nestlings calls him to more profitable employment.

Fig. 8.—EXTERNAL EAR OF A YOUNG OWL.

a, the Upper Part of the Head, partially denuded of feathers; b, the Beak; d, the Eye; c, e, f, Marginal Fold of Skin surrounding a cavity, the interior of which somewhat resembles the folds of the human ear; g, Auditory Passage leading to h, the Drum of the Ear (membrana tympani).

It is, however, among the nocturnal birds that the faculty of hearing is more specially developed. In the generality of birds there is no provision made externally for catching or concentrating sonorous impressions; but in the owls, the bustards, and a few others that venture forth at night, we find a different arrangement. In the owls, more especially, an external auditory apparatus is very conspicuous; not only does the integument exhibit a variety of folds, the disposition of which forcibly reminds us of the human ear, but the feathers upon the sides of the head are so disposed as to fulfil in some degree the purposes of a hearing trumpet. (See Fig. 8.) In such species the sense of hearing is exquisitely developed.

In the generality of birds the SENSE OF TASTE can scarcely be said to exist. The manner in which they obtain and swallow their food precludes the possibility of enjoyment from this source, so that their tongue is in many cases appropriated to some totally different use. In by far the greater number the tongue is small, thin, and cartilaginous; the extremity is flat, and incapable of being protruded beyond the bill. (See Fig. 9.) There are, however, great varieties in the construction of this organ, a few of which will require our notice.

The tongue of the parrot, although its substance is not so fleshy, has some resemblance to that of man, and it is probable that this is one of the circumstances enabling these birds to imitate the human voice with so much facility.

In the family of the toucans and some others, the tongue, without being extensible, is fully as long as the largely developed bill, and, moreover, its sides are fringed like those of a feather. A tongue of this description may probably be endowed with some delicacy of taste, enabling these birds to appreciate the flavour of the fruits on which they feed.

Birds of the duck family have the largest tongues. Owing to its fleshy appearance it more nearly resembles the human tongue than even that of the parrot. Birds of this family discriminate their food not by sight, but by the delicate sense of touch with which their tongue is endowed. They thrust their bill into the mud, and from the mouthful thus obtained select, by means of their tongue alone, whatever is fit for food, rejecting the rest.

The smallest tongues are found in the night-jars and swallows, two groups which at the same time are distinguished by having the largest mouths in proportion to the size of their bodies; and in this case the design is equally apparent. These birds feed upon living insects captured during their rapid flight, and immediately swallowed whole; taste is out of the question. A large tongue would only be in the way, and it is therefore reduced to a mere rudiment.

Fig. 9.—THE THROAT OF A FOWL, SHOWING THE PARTS in situ.

a, the Lower Mandible; c, the Tongue; h, m, interior of the Gullet; i, the Upper Larynx.

In the preceding examples the length of the tongue never exceeds that of the bill; but in the case of the woodpeckers it is protrusible to a wonderful extent. On opening the bill of a woodpecker immediately after it has been killed, the tongue seems of ordinary length, or indeed rather short, and shaped somewhat like the spears used by the Caffres in South Africa, called assagais, pointed at the end and furnished with numerous barbs. (See Fig. 10.) This, however, is only the tip of a very remarkable instrument. If the barbed portion be drawn out of the mouth, a person unacquainted with its nature would think that he had got hold of a very long earthworm that the bird had incautiously tried to swallow, but which had stuck in its throat; hence a tongue of this description is called vermiform. The point in its usual position reposes in the ordinary manner between the mandibles; the rest is concealed, but is susceptible of extension, at the pleasure of the bird, to four or five times the length of the bill. The act of protrusion is effected by the remarkable structure of the root of the tongue, or more properly of the os hyoides, or bony apparatus whereby it is attached. The posterior prolongations derived from the os hyoides are compactly curved around the back of the skull; and occasionally they are prolonged forwards to such an extent as actually to reach the nostrils. By means of this somewhat complex arrangement the woodpecker, having broken away the bark of a tree by the powerful strokes of its bill, and thus laid open the retreat of the insects beneath, suddenly darts out its tongue, spears its prey, and instantly brings the transfixed insect into its mouth.

The SENSE OF TOUCH must be of very limited utility; indeed, there seems to be no part of the body of a bird so constructed as to be capable of tactile impressions. The wings, the representatives of hands and arms, are obviously entirely unfit for the exercise of such a function; neither do the legs and feet seem to be better suited to this purpose. The only organ of touch about which there can be no doubt is the bill, yet even this is generally covered with a hard sheath of horn. Nevertheless, in some races the extremity of the bill is soft and largely supplied with nerves. In snipes and wood-cocks, for example, the sensitive extremity of the beak materially assists in procuring their food.

For the systematic arrangement of the class of birds, the conformation of their feet has been found to afford characters of great importance to the ornithologist, inasmuch as the organisation of these members must obviously be in strict relation with the localities they inhabit. To account for the distribution of the feathered tribes, and to explain the relationships that exist between them and other animals, a great variety of ingenious theories have been broached, all of them more or less fanciful. The different families, sub-families, and minor groups into which they have been divided have been again and again sorted, like a pack of cards, frequently more in accordance with the whim of the player than with the established rules of the game. And yet a little reflection will show that the great principles of zoological classification are so simple, and at the same time so immutable, that we sometimes cannot but admire the ingenuity displayed in going wrong.

Fig. 10.—TONGUE OF THE WOODPECKER, SHOWING THE MECHANISM EMPLOYED FOR ITS PROTRUSION.

a, harpoon-like Tip of the Tongue; d, e, f, g, h, Framework of the Throat; i, k, Glands furnishing adhesive secretion.

Few things are more manifest to the student of nature than that, in the distribution of the animal creation, it has been ordained that every locality shall be peopled by forms of life pre-eminently adapted for its occupation. If, therefore, we are asked whether birds ought to be arranged in circles or in squares, in hexagons or in pentagons, in groups of five or in groups of seven, our simple reply would be by inquiring how many localities could be pointed out as requiring appropriate occupants, and to this question it is not difficult to find a satisfactory answer.

The earth, the water, and the air, throughout their broad domains, must each of them be provided with inhabitants peculiarly constructed to live in their diversified regions. Upon the earth, we find the level ground, the mountain, and the glen; we find the pathless forests, and the solitary trees and shrubs, and bushy underwood. We cast our eyes upon the waters, and we see the world of ocean covering two-third parts of this great globe, stretching from pole to pole, rolling its mighty waves through every zone; we see the creeks and shallow bays that margin it all round, and watch the waves as they approach the shore and lay them down to sleep upon the beach. There are the rivers, too, and lakes, and swamps and marshes which are neither land nor water, sometimes overspread with floating vegetation, sometimes a broad expanse of ooze and rushes far too soft to bear the weight of creatures that might try to walk upon the treacherous surface. We look into the air, and there we find between the earth and sky abundant room for birds of every wing. If, therefore, with this little map of the world before us, we reply to the question propounded above, we should be tempted to say that there must necessarily be as many different types of organisation as there are districts therein enumerated; and doubtless a reference to any system of ornithology, however much the classification may be confused by preconceived theories, will convince us that such is essentially the foundation of any natural arrangement.

In taking, therefore, a brief survey of the principal groups, or Orders, under which the feathered races have been distributed, we will begin with those appointed to live on trees, inasmuch as these are regarded by the author of the following pages as being entitled to the highest rank in the class to which they belong, rivalling in intelligence, as some of them do, the apes and monkeys of which they are in general the inseparable companions.

Few people in this country have any adequate conception of a tropical forest, and, consequently, are scarcely prepared to see whole races of animals constructed specially for a residence in the umbrageous wilderness within its pathless precincts. The great forest of the Amazon, in all its primeval grandeur, stretches for a thousand miles from north to south, and probably three or four hundred from east to west, and over all this vast extent of territory, so closely are the branches interwoven that, as we are told, a monkey might make his way passing from tree to tree without ever coming to the ground except at those points where the rivers hold their course through the tangled yet sublime scenery. "In these untrodden vastnesses the trees, rising frequently to a height of sixty or eighty feet, with stems perfectly straight and without a branch, give support to the huge creepers that climb around their trunks like immense serpents waiting for their prey, or sometimes stretching obliquely from their summits like the stays of a lofty mast, here twisting round each other till they form living cables, as if to bind securely the patriarchs of the forest; there wreathed in tangled festoons, and themselves covered with smaller creepers and parasitic plants." Such is Mr. Wallace's description of the interior of the Amazonian forest.

Fig. 11.—VISCERA OF SMALL BIRD (Euphone violaceus).

a, Crop; b, termination of the Windpipe, or inferior larynx; c, one of the Vocal Muscles; d, lower portion of the Gullet; e, the Gizzard; g, Lung of the right side; h, Liver; i, Alimentary Canal.

"The forests of Rio Janeiro," says Mr. Darwin, "are ornamented with the cabbage palm trees 110 feet high, with a stem so narrow that it might be clasped with two hands. The woody creepers themselves are of great thickness, some of them measuring two feet in circumference. If the eye was turned from the world of foliage above to the ground beneath, it was attracted by the extreme elegance of the leaves of the ferns and mimosæ (sensitive plants). The latter in some parts covered the ground; in walking across these thick beds, a broad track was marked by the change of colour produced by the drooping of their sensitive leaves. It is easy to specify the individual objects of admiration in these grand scenes, but it is not possible to give an adequate idea of the higher feelings of wonder, astonishment, and devotion, which fill and elevate the mind."

These are the localities amongst which species of the Arboreal Orders find their Paradise, and hold undisturbed possession. Myriads of climbing birds—parrots, macaws, and cockatoos—fill the whole atmosphere with joyful screams, deafening the very monkeys with their din; gorgeous toucans, with enormous bills and feathers dipped in flame, and woodpeckers scarcely less gaily clad, make the woods echo, as with axe-like beaks they chop their way in search of insect food.

The peculiar structure of the feet in the arboreal races is evidently adapted to a life amongst the branches of trees: the outer toe can be directed backwards like a thumb, enabling them to grasp the boughs as with a hand.

If, leaving the trackless gloom of the forest, we approach the sylvan scenery of the surrounding country, the "bosky woods" and isolated trees, or the sparse undergrowth of bushy shrubs, we find innumerable forms that have their feet contrived for perching only. These Insessorial races, called also Passeres, from their general resemblance to sparrows, live upon insects, fruit, and grain; but those with strong beaks live more exclusively upon grain, and those with slender beaks upon insects. The proportional length of their wings is as variable as their habits. They have four toes, generally so disposed that there are three in front and one behind; sometimes all four in front. Their legs are slender, and they hop rather than walk.

The forests and the trees, the bushes and the brakes, the thickets and the hedgerows, being thus provided with appropriate denizens, we turn our attention to the level ground; and here we find species as obviously designed for a terrestrial existence as were the preceding groups for a residence among the branches. The terrestrial or Gallinaceous birds live principally upon the ground. Their body is large and heavy, and their wings short and rounded, so as to be but ill adapted to prolonged flight. They have three toes in front, which are united at their base by a short fold of the skin, and their hinder toe is affixed above the level of the rest. In many species the male is provided with formidable weapons in the shape of spurs. To this order belong the turkeys, pheasants, and barn-door fowls. Their legs are thick, strong, and muscular, their toes short and powerful. They always prefer running to flying, and, indeed, will rarely take to their wings, except when compelled to do so by the urgency of the occasion.

If any doubt could be entertained as to the terrestrial character of the gallinaceous birds, there can be none whatever as to those distinguished by the name of Cursores or runners. The principal characteristic of the cursorial race consists in the undeveloped condition of their wings, which are quite disproportioned to the size of their body. In some cases these rudimentary wings are but imperfectly furnished with feathers, and seem only to be used after the manner of sails, to catch the wind, and thus assist in running. The living species form two families, of one of which the Ostrich, and of the other the Apteryx, is the type.

Leaving the firm dry land, we next turn our attention to the marshes—the dubious confines between land and water—and here we find the order of Waders, or, as they have been named on account of their long stilt-like legs, Grallatores or stilt-walkers. These birds, as their name imports, are characterised by the height of their legs, which are naked, and thus adapted for wading to a certain depth into the water, where many species catch their prey. A remarkable example is met with in this order of the facility with which difficulties, apparently insurmountable, in the adaptation of certain species to peculiar circumstances, have been encountered and overcome. In India, the tanks and ponds of considerable depth are more or less covered with the broad leaves of water-lilies and other floating vegetation. In such places, which are far too deep to be occupied by wading birds, and yet too extensive to be left without inhabitants, we find a family provided with toes so enormously lengthened, and moreover eked out by claws of such extraordinary length, that the spread of their feet extends over a very large surface, thus enabling them to walk over the floating weeds.

Another order of birds comprehends those whose feet are specially constructed for swimming, constituting a NATATORIAL TYPE; for this purpose they are placed far back upon the body, the legs are short and compressed, and the toes are united by a web. Their plumage is thick and shining, impregnated with oil, and closely packed with soft down, so as to preserve them from all contact with the water. They are the only birds the length of whose neck much surpasses that of their legs, thus enabling them, while swimming at the surface, to obtain their food at the bottom. Such are the Ducks and Swans, which are, moreover, further characterised by having their bill covered with a soft skin, and furnished occasionally at the sides with ridges and tooth-like points. The Divers, trusting to their superior powers of battling with the watery element, are met with further from the shore; while, at distances still more remote from land, daring the utmost fury of the tempestuous ocean, walking upon the waters, or riding upon the seas—

"Up and down, up and down,

From the base of the wave to the billow's crown,

In the midst of the flashing and feathery foam,

The Stormy Petrel finds her home."

Lastly, in this our rapid survey of the distribution of the feathered tribes, we have to speak of those whose element is the air. And here, perhaps, the reader may feel inclined to remark that, with the exception of the cursorial birds, such as the Ostriches and the Apteryx, all the species we have had occasion to mention are more or less capable of flight—that this is the special attribute of the whole class. Nevertheless, upon a little consideration, he will find that amongst the many races that fly well, there are some so pre-eminent in this respect that all others quail before them. It is one thing to be able to fly, and another to be furnished with wings so powerful that they never seem to tire. It is one thing to be the champion of the coppice, but another to be the tyrant of the sky!

The greatest powers of flight are of course conferred upon the rapacious birds, whose business is to overtake and destroy their swift-flying prey. To enable them to do this, their wings are necessarily of the most perfect structure; and they may also be recognised by their feet, which are strong, and armed with formidable talons. Of the swiftness of the falcon we have spoken elsewhere; and any one who has witnessed the flight of the eagle is not likely to have forgotten so grand a spectacle; his movements are majestic, and as he sails above the clouds on outstretched wings he seems to feel himself the monarch of the scene around. And yet even the falcon and the eagle cannot, as regards their powers of flight, be looked upon as the most highly gifted of flying birds. The spread of wing of the frigate-birds measures ten feet from tip to tip, and their flight is so powerful that they are everywhere to be seen in tropical climates at immense distances from land; while the albatross has been known to fly around a ship for weeks together, exhibiting such indomitable strength of wing that it has been supposed to be capable of circling round the world.

It is by no means our intention to trouble the reader with unnecessary details concerning the anatomy of the creatures upon the history of which he is about to enter; nevertheless, it is indispensably requisite that we should give at least an outline of their internal organisation.

No one can have examined attentively the bony framework whereby the body of a bird is sustained, without being forcibly impressed with the lightness as well as the compactness of its construction. The most wonderful economy is exhibited in the arrangement of the weighty material of which it consists. The bones present in their interior extensive cavities, whereby they are considerably lightened, and their walls, although exceedingly dense and strong, are much thinner than in any other animals. The extremities of the cylindrical bones are occupied by a light open network of slender filaments shooting across in every direction from wall to wall, and as these attenuated buttresses are likewise hollow, it is easy to perceive how incomparably lightness and strength are here conjoined.

The extent to which the skeleton is thus filled with air varies in different birds in relation with their powers of flight. In the Swifts and the Humming-birds every bone of the skeleton, even to the toes and the claws, is permeated by the atmospheric fluid. In the opposite extreme, the terrestrial Apteryx and the aquatic Penguin have not a single bone thus excavated.

Fig. 12.—SKELETON OF A BIRD.

a, the Skull; b, Vertebræ of the Neck; c, Dorsal Region of the Spine; d, Vertebræ that support the Tail; e, e, e, the Sternum or Breast-bone; f, f, f, f, the Ribs; h, the Scapula, or Shoulder-blade; i, i, the conjoined Clavicles or Collar-bones, forming the Furculum, or "Merry-thought;" k, the Coracoid Bones; l, the Humerus, or Arm-bone; m, n, Bones of the Fore-arm; o, b', Bones of the Wrist or Carpus; p, p, the Metacarpal Bones and Rudimentary Thumb; q, q, Pieces representing the Middle Finger; r, s, s, the Pelvis, formed by the consolidation of the hinder Vertebræ of the Back into one piece; t, the Thigh-bone; u, the Leg; x, x, the Tarso-Metatarsal Bones, usually called the Tarsus; y, the Hallux, or Hinder Toe; z, z, the Front Toes.

The skeleton of an animal formed for flight must be constructed upon mechanical principles of a very refined character. The utmost lightness is indispensable; nevertheless, in a framework which has to sustain the powerful action of muscles so vigorous, strength and firmness are equally essential. It is in combining these two opposite qualities that the human mechanician exhibits the extent of his resources and the accuracy of his knowledge; but let the best and most ingenious mechanic carefully examine the skeleton of a bird, and we doubt not that in its construction he will find all his ingenuity surpassed, and perhaps derive not a little instruction from the survey.

In order to render the following account of the structure of a bird's skeleton intelligible to the non-scientific reader, we have delineated that of the Pigeon, and with this figure before us we shall have but little difficulty in indicating those points with which it is essential that the reader of the present volume should be intimately acquainted. (See Fig. 12.)

In the back-bone, or vertebral column, we find three principal regions, each of which will merit distinct notice.

The cervical region, or that portion belonging to the neck (Fig. 12, b), is exceedingly variable in its proportionate length, and forms the only flexible portion of the spine; it performs, indeed, the functions of an arm, at the end of which the beak, the chief instrument of prehension, is situated. The number of vertebræ entering into the composition of this part of the skeleton is very variable; in the Swan there are as many as twenty-three, in the Crane nineteen, while in the Sparrow there are only nine. As a general rule, it may be observed that the neck of a bird is never so short as not to be able to reach to every part of the body; in many aquatic species it is remarkably elongated, whether they swim upon the surface by means of webbed or natatory feet, like the Swan, or wade into rivers and marshes, like the Crane or the Heron. Throughout the entire class a very beautiful contrivance is observable in the S-shaped curvature of this region, the joints of the upper vertebræ being so disposed that they will bend forwards, while in the lower part they can only be bent backwards, thus enabling the bird to lengthen or shorten its neck with the utmost facility and gracefulness.

But if flexibility is thus admirably provided for in the cervical region, in the thoracic portion of the skeleton which has to support the framework of the wings, and sustain the efforts of the powerful muscles connected with flight, firmness and rigidity become essential requisites, and, accordingly, in the dorsal region, every means has been employed to prevent those movements which in the neck are so advantageously permitted. The vertebræ of this region (Fig. 12, c) are therefore so consolidated as to be almost immovable; and, moreover, splints of bone laid along the back materially add to its stability and strength. There are likewise two sets of ribs, one firmly lashed to the back-bone, the other strongly attached to the sides of the sternum; these dorsal and sternal ribs are moreover united to each other by firm connections, and a thorax is thus formed, possessing sufficient mobility to perform the movements connected with respiration, but still affording a strong basis for muscular action; nay, still further to strengthen this part of the skeleton, from the hinder margin of each dorsal rib a broad flat plate of bone (Fig. 12, f) is prolonged backwards, so as to overlap the rib next behind, and thus bind the whole together as firmly as possible.

The sternum or breast-bone (Fig. 12, e) is developed in proportion to the size of the three pectoral muscles subservient to flight, and is prolonged beneath into a deep keel-like projection. In the cursorial races, such as the Ostriches and the Apteryx, whose wings are not available for flying, the keel is entirely wanting.

Whoever considers the position of the hip-joint in the skeleton of a bird, and reflects how far it is necessarily removed behind the centre of gravity when the bird walks with its body in a horizontal position, will at once perceive that the hinder portion of the spinal column, having to support the whole weight of the body under the most disadvantageous circumstances, and at the same time to give attachment to the strong and massive muscles that wield the thigh, must be consolidated and strengthened in every possible manner, and that even the slight degree of movement permitted in the region of the back would here be inadmissible. Most of the hinder vertebræ are, therefore, solidly conjoined into a single piece (Fig. 12, r, s), sufficiently strong and massive to bear the great strain to which it is continually subjected, leaving only a few of the hindmost pieces (Fig. 12, d) free, upon which the feathers of the tail are supported.

The fore limb of a bird, although used for the purpose of flight, when stripped of the feathers and quills that, as we have already seen, form the extensive surface of the wing, will be found very much to resemble the human arm in its general arrangement, presenting only such modifications as are required for the performance of its peculiar function.

The framework of the shoulder consists of three bones (Fig. 12, h, i, k), named respectively the scapula or shoulder-blade, the clavicle or collar-bone, and the coracoid bone. The scapula (h) is a long and comparatively slender piece placed upon the ribs, and embedded in the muscles, to which it gives attachment. The coracoid bone (k) is the strongest piece of the shoulder; it supports the wing at one extremity, while at the opposite it is firmly united to the sternum by a broad and massive joint. But the most peculiarly formed part of the shoulder is the furculum, or "merry-thought," as it is usually called (i i), consisting of the two collar-bones united, so as to form but a single fork-shaped apparatus, the presence of which materially enlarges and strengthens the shoulder, without unnecessarily adding to the weight. It is by the union of the three last-mentioned bones that a place is made for the socket of the shoulder, with which the wing is more immediately connected.

The skeleton of the wing presents the bone of the arm, called the humerus (Fig. 12, l), and the two bones of the fore-arm, named respectively the radius (m) and the ulna, or cubit (n). The wrist, or carpus, consists of two bones (b' o), and the metacarpus (p) is likewise made up of two pieces; these, with two, or sometimes three, rudimental fingers (p' q q), complete the framework of the wing. The largest finger consists of two, or sometimes of three joints; a second offers but a single joint; and the third, when present, is a mere appendage to the carpus, representing a sort of apology for a thumb.

The bones of the leg likewise exhibit the same parts as exist in the human skeleton, but modified. The thigh, or femur (Fig. 12, t), is a short and strong bone, to which succeeds the leg, consisting of two bones (u), named the tibia and the fibula, but the latter is generally very imperfectly developed. That part which is commonly considered to be the leg consists of the bones of the ankle and a part of the foot (the tarsal and metatarsal bones) consolidated into a single piece, called by anatomists the tarso-metatarsal bone, but known to ornithologists as the tarsus (x). At the lower extremity of the tarsus are three joints that support the three front toes (z, z), while a fourth toe (technically called the hallux) (y), which is directed backwards, is attached to it by the intervention of a small accessory piece. In the gallinaceous order there exists a bony spur, considered by some as representing a fifth toe.

In order to facilitate the description of a bird, it is usual for the ornithologist to consider its exterior as being mapped out into sundry regions (see Fig. 13), to each of which has been assigned a definite and appropriate name; with the names of these regions, and their precise application, it is requisite that the reader should be intimately acquainted.

A bird, like any other vertebrate animal, is divisible into the head, the body, and the limbs; under one or other of which divisions all subordinate parts may be classed.

The head consists of the skull and the bill, and is joined to the body by the neck. Commencing with the bill, we see that it is composed of two pieces, corresponding to the jaws of quadrupeds; that which is above is called the upper mandible (Fig. 13, ¹), that which represents the under jaw is called the lower mandible (²). The upper mandible contains the nostrils (³); its highest part is called the culmen or ridge (⁴), while the corresponding ridge of the lower mandible is called the gonys or keel (⁹).

The lateral edges of the mandibles which meet when the bill is closed are called the margins. In some birds the margins of the upper mandible fold over those of the lower, while in others the edges meet; when this is the case, the line of junction between the two is called the commissure (⁵).

In many birds the upper mandible is continued far back over the forehead, and there dilated, so as to form a casque or helmet. In rapacious birds and parrots there is a belt of soft naked skin at the base of the upper mandible, named the cere, in which the nostrils are placed, while around the eye is a space, often denuded of feathers, called the ophthalmic region (¹¹).

The Head is that part which lies immediately over the skull, extending from the base of the beak to the commencement of the neck. The front or forehead (¹²) is that part of the head which lies close above the nostrils; then follows the crown or summit (¹⁷), which occupies the middle or centre of the head, forming that part which is usually occupied by the crest in birds so ornamented. The hind head (¹⁸) commences at the declivity of the skull; its lower portion is called the nape (¹⁹).

Fig. 13.—ORNITHOLOGICAL REGIONS OF THE BODY OF A SMALL BIRD.

On the sides of the head the following parts have received distinct names:—The feathers that cover the ears, to save repetition, are usually called the ears (²⁰): they are generally rather more rigid and their webs more disconnected than the surrounding feathers. The space between these and the corner of the mouth (usually called the gape)(¹³), is termed the cheek.

The parts of the Neck are thus designated:—The back of the neck is called the upper neck, or nucha (²³), beneath which is the lower neck or auchenium. The under-side of the neck is divided into three regions; first, there is the chin (⁷), or that small space just beneath the lower mandible; to the chin succeeds the upper throat (⁸), between which and the broad part of the body is the lower throat (¹⁵).

The Body presents the following regions: first there is the breast (²²), which extends over the space which covers the breast-bone. To this succeeds the belly (²⁹), which is terminated by the vent or crissum (³⁰). Immediately behind the vent are the under-tail covers (³²), which are frequently of a different colour from the surrounding feathers.

On the upper aspect of the body we have the interscapular region, sometimes called the back (²⁴), to which succeeds the lower back (²⁶), which terminates at the rump, or that part where the upper-tail covers (⁴²) are inserted.

Last of all comes the Tail, composed of long stiff feathers, called the tail-feathers (³¹), concerning which it is only necessary to observe that the two middle tail-feathers are the intermedial, while those on the sides are the lateral tail-feathers.

The Wing of a bird will be found to present a structure worthy of our highest admiration. The object aimed at in the arrangement of its different parts is evidently to obtain a very large and firm expanse of surface, by employing the smallest possible quantity of material. For the purposes of flight it is obviously necessary that the superficial extent of the wings shall be sufficiently ample, not only to sustain the weight of their possessor in the thin and yielding element in which it flies, but, by the vigour of their stroke and the violence of their impulse, to propel the bird with a rapidity proportioned to the occasion, and, moreover, by the lightness of their touch and the accuracy of their movements, to steer and steady its course through all the varied evolutions whereby it is enabled to capture prey, or sportively display the wonderful activity conferred upon the feathered tribes.

We have already seen, while examining the construction of the skeleton, that the bony framework of the wing essentially resembles that of the human arm, and that the limb when stripped of its feathers is no more adapted for flying than our own. The needful expansion is obtained altogether by the addition of the quill feathers, which, as explained in a preceding page, combine in their structure all the qualities requisite for the intended purpose, lightness, firmness, strength, elasticity, and extent of surface: the central part of the arm or wing forms merely a basis of support, into which the quills and other appendages to the wing are securely implanted. It will therefore be easily understood that the importance of the individual quills as instruments of flight will depend very much upon the position they hold in the wing, of which they form so considerable a portion, and, consequently, that they have received names expressive of their relative efficiency. Those that are affixed to the bones representing the hand (Fig. 12, p, q q), by the length of their stroke, and the peculiarity of their arrangement, are obviously of primary importance, both from their size and the situation they occupy, and have consequently been named the "primaries," or the "primary quills," (Figs. 2, f; 13, ³⁵); they might be called with equal propriety the "hand-quills," a term more particularly expressive of the parts to which they are attached. Upon the relative length and other proportions of the primary quills the shape and mechanical power of the instrument principally depend; if the first primary be the longest, the termination of the wing is sharp and pointed (acuminate), as in most birds that are remarkable for the swiftness of their flight; whereas if the second, third, or fourth of these quills should exceed the others in this respect, the wing becomes more and more rounded (obtuse), and the perfection of its action visibly deteriorated.

The "Secondary Quills," or "Secondaries" (Figs. 2, c; 13, ³⁴), are exclusively sustained by the bones of the fore-arm (Fig. 12, m, n); from their situation being much nearer to the shoulder-joint than the preceding, the extent of their sweep is more limited, and their stroke much feebler; they are, consequently, as their name indicates, of secondary importance in locomotion.

Plate 4 Cassell's Book of Birds

1. Tyrant Shrike (Tyrannus intrepidus).—2. Virginian Chordeiles (Chordeiles Virginianus).—3. Cow-bird (Icterus pecoris).—4. Crimson Honeysucker (Myzantha garrula).—5. Masked Weaver-bird (Ploceus larvatus).—6. Fire-crested Wren (Regulus pyrocephalus).—7. Rice-bird (Padda oryzivora).—8. Variegated Grakle (Quiscalus versicolor).—9. White-tailed wheatear (Saxicola leucura).—10. The Wittal Oriole (Oriolus galbula).—11. The Alpine Accentor (Accentor Alpinus).—12. Nordman's Glareole (Glareola Nordmanni).—13. Alpine Tit (Parus Alpinus).—14. Crested Tit (Parus Cristatus).—15. African Parra (Parra Africana).—16. Piririguan Tick-eater (Crotophaga Piririgua).—17. Ptarmigan (Lagopus Scoticus).—18. Scapulated Crow (Corvus Scapulatus).—19. The Kestrel (Tinnunculus Cenchris).—20. The Senegal Thick-knee (Oedicnemus Senegalensis).—21. Rock Kestrel (Tinnunculus rupicolus).—22. Corythus (Corythus enucleator).—23. The Red-legged Stilt-Walker (Himantopus rufipes).—24. The Stone Thrush (Turdus saxatilis).—25. The Silk-tail (Bombycilla garrula).—26. Long-tailed Tit (Parus biarmicus).—27. The Wall-creeper (Tichodroma muraria).—28. The Troopial (Agelaius phœniceus).—29. The Yellow Bunting (Emberiza Cia).—30. The Red-eyed Coccyzus (Coccyzus erythropthalmus).—31. The Cirl-Bunting (Emberiza cirlus).]

The Spurious, or Bastard Quills (Figs. 2, e; 13, ³³), are attached to the rudimental bone that represents the thumb (Figs. 2, g; 12, p); their size is diminutive, and their use in flight comparatively unimportant.

The Wing Covers or Coverts (Fig. 13, ³⁷) are small feathers arranged in several rows, which overlap and strengthen the bases of the quills; they are often variously coloured, and thus afford important features whereby different species may be distinguished. Besides the above, there are certain conventional terms employed by the ornithologist that will require enumeration. The arm-part of the wing in the living bird is generally known as the shoulder (²⁷); the elbow-joint is the flexum; while that part of the fore-arm which corresponds to the edge of the wing is denominated the shoulder-margin (⁶).

The names appropriated to the different parts of the hinder-limb have been already sufficiently indicated when describing the composition of the skeleton.

There are many birds which have stripes of variously coloured feathers situated above, before, and behind the eye; while others sometimes occur at the base of the lower mandible. To all these distinct names have been appropriated. A superciliary stripe is situated above the eye, occupying a position analogous to that of the human eyebrow. An ordinary eye-stripe is either anterior, posterior, or entire. It is called anterior when it only occupies the space between the eye and the bill; posterior when it commences behind the eye, and advances towards or unites with the ear-feathers; and entire when it is both posterior and anterior. A maxillary stripe commences at the base of the under mandible, and descends on the sides of the neck.

Fig. 14.—CHICKEN IN THE EGG, NEARLY ARRIVED AT MATURITY,

Showing the little Hammer or "Bill-scale" on the end of its beak, wherewith it is enabled to break through the egg-shell.

Such is the by no means very long list of names of parts used by the ornithologist in his description, and which in the course of the present volume will necessarily be of very frequent occurrence.

The oil with which birds preen their feathers, and the glands that supply it, constitute a remarkable provision peculiar to the feathered creation. Embedded among the feathers at the root of the tail, there is on each side a small nipple, yielding upon pressure a butter-like substance, which the bird extracts by squeezing the orifice with its bill. By means of the oil, or rather ointment, thus procured, it dresses its feathers, either for the purpose of increasing their brilliancy, or, as in the case of the swimming birds, to make them impenetrable to wet.

The pairing of birds is a feature in their history which draws a broad line of distinction between the feathered tribes and the generality of quadrupeds. Among mammiferous quadrupeds the young derive their nutriment during the earlier period of their existence entirely from the maternal breast, the male parent contributing nothing towards its support; but in the winged races the callow brood derive their supply of food from the industry of both parents, whose united exertions are not more than is requisite to procure the needful supply. In this circumstance we may see a reason for the faithful love of the feathered mate as contrasted with the vagrant disposition of the quadruped. The parental fondness of birds towards their young has escaped no observer; no historian of nature is silent upon this subject. "How well they caress them," says Derham, "with their affectionate notes, lull and quiet them with their voice, put food into their mouths, cherish and keep them warm, teach them to peck and eat, and gather food for themselves, and, in a word, perform the part of so many nurses deputed by the Sovereign Lord and preserver of the world to help such young and shiftless creatures."

It would lead us far beyond the limits of our space were we to do more than indicate the close relationship that exists between the exalted temperature and warm clothing of the feathered creation and the wonderful instinct which urges them to build nests for the reception of their eggs, or the still more remarkable blind perseverance with which they devote themselves to the task of incubation. "There is nothing," says Paley, "either in the aspect or in the internal composition of an egg which could lead even the most daring imagination to conjecture that it was hereafter to turn out from its shell a perfect living bird. From the contents of an egg would any one expect the production of a feathered goldfinch? To suppose the female bird to act in this process from a sagacity and reason of her own is to suppose her to arrive at conclusions there are no premises to justify." And yet He who made the egg not only ordained that such should be the result of the simple process of incubation; but, as though to confound scepticism, by giving, as it were, the last touch to His inscrutable work, provided the young bird with the means of escaping from incarceration, by attaching to the end of its beak a little hammer, called the "bill-scale," the only use of which is to crack the egg-shell, and allow the little prisoner to come forth. (See Fig. 14.)

With these few prefatory remarks, we leave our author in the reader's hands, at the same time promising that he will find in the succeeding pages a rich store of valuable information.

Fig. 15.—A YOUNG BLACKBIRD SHORTLY AFTER ITS ESCAPE FROM THE EGG, SHOWING THE ARRANGEMENT AND CONDITION OF THE FEATHERS.

CLASSIFICATION OF BIRDS.

Those who are familiar with modern works on ornithology will have observed that it is usual to commence the history of the feathered tribes by a description of the vultures—the most disagreeable and least intelligent of the race. Some writers, however, consider the singing birds as entitled to the first place, the remaining members of the heterogeneous multitude being arranged according to the pleasure of individual naturalists more or less acquainted with their subject. For our own part, we recognise in the parrots the qualifications most fitted to entitle them to take the precedence, and it is, consequently, with these that we shall commence our history. Ornithologists, moreover, differ widely among themselves as regards the relation that exists between the parrots and other members of the class to which they belong, either placing them in a group by themselves, in a manner never intended by Nature, or associating them with toucans, woodpeckers, and cuckoos, with which they possess but few characteristics in common. Under these circumstances, we have considered ourselves at liberty to adopt our own views upon the subject, and have, accordingly, constituted for the parrots a distinct order, under the quaint but expressive name of

CRACKERS (Enucleatores),

in allusion to the facility with which, owing to the construction of their beaks, they are enabled to crack nuts, and other hard seeds, that form the usual staple of their food.

The order that we have thus thought it advisable to establish is, however, by no means limited to the parrots; it includes various other seed-eating birds, chiefly belonging to the passerine tribes, the resemblance of which to parrots has been in some cases generally acknowledged in selecting the names ordinarily conferred upon them. Thus, the Cross-bills have long been known in Germany as the Fir-tree Parrots, and, on the other hand, the epithet of Sparrow-parrots, applied to some races of climbing-birds, clearly shows the relationship that exists between these generally dissevered groups.

The birds thus associated will be found to present many features in common. They live chiefly upon vegetable substances, and their strong beaks enable them to break up hard kinds of food, such as nuts, seeds, and grain. They will also eat fruit and leaf-buds, or the tender shoots of plants; many will devour insects; and a few do not altogether reject the flesh of other animals. They are all clever, lively, and active, much attached to the society of birds of their own species, though they do not often cultivate acquaintance with those belonging to a different family. Their great intelligence enables them to live comfortably even under disadvantageous circumstances, and their temperament allows them to fight the "battle of life" very cheerfully. Owing to the diversity of their habits, they are necessarily widely distributed, and some of them are to be met with in every climate; the parrots only are restricted to the torrid zones, the remaining members of the order being citizens of the world. As to the localities they frequent, much depends upon the absence or presence of the trees to which they usually resort, by far the greater number being strictly arboreal, passing their whole lives in flying from tree to tree, and confining their excursions to a very limited district. Only such as live in cold countries migrate; indeed, regular migrations—that is to say, such as take place at stated periods—or journeys to any considerable distance, are quite exceptional among them. They are, in general, very affectionate and docile; the male has frequently but one mate during his whole life, and nearly all of them brood more than once in the year.

The nests of this order of birds are of very various construction, and the number of eggs never large. The task of incubation usually devolves upon the female, who is cheered and tended by her mate during the period of her seclusion, but he also occasionally shares her labours, and both parents co-operate in feeding and taking care of their young. Many species are considered inimical to mankind, on account of their marauding attacks upon property; and yet the benefits they confer far outweigh any injuries of which they may be guilty. They clear away the seeds of noxious weeds, free the plants from insects; and their lively and cheering presence in the woods, their beauty, their song, and the ease with which they are tamed, together with other good qualities, fully entitle them to our admiration and regard. The flesh of most of them affords an appetising and healthy food, and the plumage of some species forms a beautiful and admired decoration.

PARROTS (Psittacini).

If it is ever permissible to compare animals of one class with those of another, we would state our opinion that the parrots hold among birds much the same position as that occupied by monkeys among quadrupeds. The truth of this remark will become obvious as we proceed with their history. Most systematists have considered parrots as entitled to take but an inferior place in the zoological series, founding this opinion upon a single characteristic which they share with many other birds of far humbler endowments; we allude to the prehensile structure of the foot. Parrots, Woodpeckers, Pepper-eaters, Curacus, Barbets, and Jacamars, are all climbing birds; that is to say, they all have two toes placed in front and two directed backwards; and, immaterial as this structure of the foot may appear, it has been deemed a sufficient reason for forming an order embracing several races of most dissimilar form, which present only this one feature in common. Little stress should, in reality, be laid upon this disposition of the toes, from whatever point of view it is regarded, seeing that Woodpeckers, Tree-creepers, and a great number of others that do not possess the scansorial foot, vie with the so-called climbing birds in the facility with which they climb. The three-toed Woodpecker is not inferior in the dexterity with which it can use its claws to any four-toed scansorial species; and we shall, we believe, be giving this climbing foot its proper appreciation if we compare it to and rank it with the flexible tail of some mammalia, the possession of which is not confined to any particular race, but bestowed alike upon arboreal species of the most various kinds. A foot of this description is by no means of such uniform structure as is usually supposed, and, in truth, is scarcely less varied than are the birds themselves; the foot of the parrot, in particular, differs essentially from the pair-toed foot of other Scansores, in the development of the central part, which renders it in its functions comparable to a hand. The parrots, in fact, constitute a distinct and very clearly defined race, their most distinguishing characteristic being found in the structure of their beak, which can never be mistaken for that of any other bird. At the first glance, indeed, the beak of the parrot would appear to resemble that of the birds of prey; but it is, in reality, much thicker and stronger, and also comparatively higher and more symmetrical in its form. The legs are thick, strong, and fleshy, but never long; the tarsus much shorter than the middle toe, and always covered with small scaly plates; the toes are moderately long, and have a thick sole, but this exists only on certain peculiar ball-like elevations; upon their upper surface the feet are covered with minute scales, resembling those of the tarsus; and these scales, as they approach the ends of the toes, become gradually larger, and project beyond the base of the claw upon the terminal joint in the shape of short tubular or band-like plates; the claws are not long, but much bent and tolerably sharp, never very powerful. The structure of the wings is in exact correspondence with that of the feet; the bones are of moderate length, but strong; the pinion feathers tolerably numerous—twenty to twenty-four. The compactly formed primary quills are seldom long, but so disposed that the outspread wing is generally pointed; the tail-feathers vary considerably in different species, both as regards length and shape. The general plumage is remarkable on account of its compactness; it consists of few feathers, but these are usually of large size, with the exception of those covering the head, which are small. The eye is in many instances surrounded by a naked patch of skin, which during life is usually powdered over with white dust. The body feathers are each furnished on the under side with a large downy appendage. The coloration of the plumage, notwithstanding its great diversity, will require notice, as presenting a feature very distinctive of the different races of parrots. The prevailing tint is a more or less vivid leaf-green; but we also meet with hyacinth, blue, purple, red, golden yellow, and at times darker hues; their distribution is also characteristic, more especially the frequent occurrence of complementary colours upon the upper and under sides of the same feather—blue-violet, dark blue, light blue or green above, with light yellow, orange-yellow, cinnabar red, or purple underneath. Not less peculiar is the frequent concealment of glowing tints among others which are less conspicuous, as, for example, in the case of some Cockatoos in which we meet with feathers having their lower portion and their downy roots of a deep cinnabar red or brilliant yellow, and yet this portion is seldom visible, on account of the length of the white feathers among which it is hidden.

The extraordinary intelligence exhibited by some parrots is particularly remarkable; it is, indeed, their sensible behaviour, not their form, that makes us regard these creatures as representatives of the Quadrumana. The parrot has, superadded to the form of a bird, all the qualifications and troublesome propensities of the monkey—humoursome and fickle at one moment, gentle and agreeable at the next; it is intelligent, active and circumspect, provident and crafty, very quick in discernment, and possessed of an excellent memory; on this account it is eminently susceptible of instruction, and may be taught almost anything. On the other hand, it is choleric, malicious, spiteful, and deceitful; it forgets injuries as little as it does kindnesses; it is cruel and inconsiderate to creatures weaker than itself, tyrannically ill-treating the helpless and unfortunate, as does the monkey. It has been the fashion to rank parrots as inferior to many other birds, because they do not exhibit such conspicuous capabilities of locomotion; they are, nevertheless, very well endowed, even in this respect. The larger species fly with apparent heaviness, but with considerable rapidity; the smaller, wonderfully well—so well, indeed, that we have been almost consoled for the loss of a favourite bird whilst watching the beauty of its flight. Very many appear to be quite out of their element when upon the ground, they seem to hobble rather than to walk, but there are some Ground Parrots that run swiftly and with much facility; and Gould makes mention of a Grass Parrot that he saw running upon the ground like a plover. The capability of hopping from bough to bough is an accomplishment in which parrots are deficient, nevertheless they have their own mode of progression among the branches; any considerable space they fly over, but smaller distances they pass by climbing, and that with considerable rapidity, unwieldy as some of them appear; helping themselves along by means of their beak, as well as their feet, while other birds use their feet only. Parrots are unable to swim, and are quite incapable of diving. The bill is far more movable than that of any other bird, and is useful for many purposes. Their voice is harsh and screaming, but yet not entirely destitute of an agreeable sound when heard in their native haunts. Some species will learn to whistle tunes with remarkable clearness and accuracy; the faculty which they possess of imitating the human voice and speech is well known—their performance, indeed, is wonderful; they do not babble, they speak, and seem to know the meaning of the words they use.

With the exception of Europe, parrots are to be met with in all parts of the world, more especially in tropical regions; one American species ranges as far north as 42°, and another is found in the southern hemisphere, as far as the inhospitable wastes of Tierra del Fuego, in 53° south latitude. Cockatoos are known to inhabit New Zealand and Macquarrie's island, 52° south. In Asia and Africa, the parrots are principally confined to the limits of the torrid zone; in China, they rarely pass 27° north latitude, and in India, at furthest, only extend to the foot of the Himalaya mountains. In Western Africa, they rarely go beyond 16° north, and in Eastern Africa, according to our information, not further than 15°; but towards the southern hemisphere they probably are to be met with at a greater distance from the equator.

Generally speaking, the woods are their favourite haunts; but this is by no means universally the case. There are certain species, for example, which only frequent treeless plains or wide steppes; in the Andes some are to be found living far beyond the region of trees, even at an altitude of 11,000 feet above the level of the sea.

In the north-east of Africa, according to our own experience, they almost exclusively reside in places frequented by monkeys, insomuch that apes and monkeys seem to be their inseparable companions. The more extensive the forests—that is, the richer they are in vegetation—the more these birds abound; indeed, in the tropical forests, they constitute a large—we might almost say, the largest—proportion of the feathered inhabitants. The same remark applies to Australia, as well as to many localities in India, and in part also to Africa; in these countries parrots are as numerous as crows are in Europe, and as common as sparrows.

They would seem to understand how to make themselves conspicuous; and while they deafen the ear with their discordant cries, enliven the dark shades of tropical forests with their lavishly-coloured plumage. "It is impossible," says Gould, "to describe the enchanting scene afforded by certain parrots, more especially by those adorned with feathers of glowing red, as they wheel their varied flight among the silver-leaved gum-trees of Australia, their gorgeous plumage standing out amid the surrounding scenery with wonderful effect."

"Morning and evening," writes Schomburgk, "countless multitudes may be seen at a considerable height, making an insufferable noise; one afternoon I saw such a prodigious flight descend upon the trees by the river-side, that the branches bent low under the weight of the birds." "It is necessary to have lived in these countries, more especially in the hot valleys of the Andes," says Humboldt, "to believe it possible that the shrieking of the parrots actually drowns the roar of the mountain torrents as the waters leap from rock to rock. What would those wondrous tropical forests be without parrots? Lifeless gardens of enchantment, a wilderness of silence, a solitary desert; by these birds they are awakened and kept alive, for the parrots know equally well how to find occupation both for the ear and eye of the traveller."

Except in the breeding season, parrots live in society, or, we might rather say, in great flocks; they select a locality in the forest as their settlement, and thence make daily excursions to considerable distances. Early in the morning they simultaneously quit their roosting-place, to invade the same tree or the same field in search of food, stationing sentinels, whose duty it is to protect the community from a sudden surprise. They pay instant attention to any voice of warning, and when alarmed, immediately take flight, either all together or shortly after each other.

"At the first glimmering of the clear morning sun of the tropics," says the Prince von Wied, "the parrots rouse themselves from their sleeping-places, dry their wings, which have become wetted with the dews of night, and playfully call aloud to each other; then, after describing many sweeping circles above the high woods, they quickly depart in search of the morning's meal. In the evening they invariably come back again to their usual roost."

Le Vaillant tells us that in south-eastern Africa the native parrots fly in little flocks in search of food, bathe about noon, and hide themselves among the foliage during the overpowering heat of the sun. Towards evening they disperse themselves, after which they again bathe, and then fly back to the same roosting-place from which they had departed in the morning. These roosting-places are very various—sometimes the thickly-leaved top of a tree, sometimes a rock full of holes, often a hollow tree trunk; the situation last mentioned seems to be especially sought after. "Their sleeping-place," says Audubon, speaking of the American parrakeets, "is a hollow tree, or the hole chiselled out in some tree's trunk, to be the nestling-place of the larger woodpeckers, that is, in case these are not occupied by their true owners. In the gloaming large flocks of parrots assemble around old hollow sycamores, or other trees of similar character; and may be seen immediately in front of the entrance clinging to the bark, until one after another they disappear through the hole that leads into the interior, in order to pass the night. When a hollow of this description is not sufficiently large to accommodate the numbers that are assembled, those that come last are content to suspend themselves by their bill and claws from the bark before the entrance.

"We have ourselves, in the primitive forests around the Blue River, in Africa, repeatedly watched the parrots at twilight, slipping one after another into their hole, and have observed them ranged with great regularity around the many perforations in the trunk of some old Adansonia.

"In India, the Collared Parrot, as Layard informs us, sleeps among the thickets of bamboos. "All Parrots, Bee-eaters, Grakles, and Crows from districts extending for many miles around, pass the night in flocks among the great bamboo plantations, where the dull rushing sound caused by their flutterings, constantly heard from sundown till dark, and from the first grey dawning in the east until long after sunrise, might almost be supposed by the observer to proceed from numerous steam-engines in full work. Many of these flocks returning late in the evening from their excursions, fly so near to the ground that they scarcely clear the obstacles to their course; indeed, they do not always succeed in doing so; for, several nights together, we have picked up parrots which had flown against walls or similar obstructions, and had been killed in consequence."

Layard gives a very lively account of the behaviour and doings of the Alexander parrot (a species commonly met with in Ceylon), at one of their sleeping-places.

In Chilau, he relates, that he has seen such massive flights of these birds winging their way to their roosting-places among the cocoa-nut trees that overshadow the market-place, that their cries completely drowned the Babel-like confusion of tongues heard among the buyers and sellers in the streets. He had previously been told of the flocks which thus pay their nightly visits, and placed himself, accordingly, towards evening, upon one of the neighbouring bridges, in order to form a calculation of the numbers that might make their appearance in a certain given direction. At about four o'clock in the afternoon they began to arrive; scattered swarms were seen wending their way homewards, to these there succeeded others still more numerous, and in the course of half an hour the homeward stream was apparently in full flow. He very soon found that it was impossible even to count the flocks, which seemed gradually to unite into one great living, roaring torrent. Some flew high in the air, until they were immediately over their roosting-place, and then suddenly plunged down, wheeling round and round towards the tree-tops, of which they were in search. Others crowded onwards, flying close to the ground—indeed, so closely that some of them nearly grazed his face. They swept along with the rapidity of thought, and their dazzling plumage seemed to be lit up with gorgeous brilliancy, as it glanced in the rays of the sun. He waited at his post of observation until the evening closed in, and he could see no longer, but even then the flight of the birds as they made towards their nests was audible. When he fired off a gun, they rose with a sound like that of a furiously rushing wind; soon, however, they again settled down, and commenced an indescribable hubbub. The shrill screams of the birds, the noise caused by the fluttering of their wings, and the rattling of the leaves of the palm-trees was so deafening, that he was heartily glad when he escaped from such a turmoil, and took refuge in his own house.

COCKATOOS (Cacatua).

Next to a safe sleeping-place, the presence of trees thickly crowned with foliage is an essential requisite for the comfortable lodgment of parrots; this they require, not so much as a protection against the weather, as for a secure hiding-place. Of all things they like warmth, nevertheless they do not absolutely avoid a cool temperature, and still less are they afraid of wet, at least for a time.

COLLARED PARROT (Palæornis torquatus).

"During the heavy tropical rain-storms that sometimes darken the air," says the Prince von Wied, "it is not uncommon to see parrots sitting motionless upon the dead branches at the very top of a tree, uttering cheerful screams, as the water streams off from their plumage; there may be dense foliage, and thick boughs immediately beneath, under which they might easily find shelter, but they prefer the warm shower, and seem to enjoy the wetting. No sooner, however, has the rain ceased, than they appear equally desirous to dry themselves, and to rid their plumage of the moisture."

In fine weather it is quite otherwise; they then decidedly prefer the shelter of the thickest trees, either as a protection from the burning heat of the sun, or for the purpose of concealment, and hasten to them at once on the slightest alarm. They know what an excellent protection to them, clothed as they are in leafy green, the verdant bower offers; and, truly, when thus ensconced, they are tolerably secure from observation; a man may know that there are fifty of them in a tree, and not see one. In playing their game of hide and seek, both the colour of their feathers, and the cunning so peculiar to all parrots, contribute to their safety;—they do not want to be seen. One of their company has just at the right time observed the approach of an enemy; he gives a sign, they are all at once silent, and withdraw themselves towards the centre of the tree; noiselessly, they climb to that side of the summit opposite to the spot where the enemy has appeared, they then fly off, and it is only when they are a hundred yards away that they seem to recover their voice, and scream to their hearts' content, apparently rather out of bravado, after having thus outwitted their pursuers, than for the sake of calling upon their companions. This clever game they play more especially when they have settled on some tree for the purpose of enjoying the fruit, as it is then that their thievish design is carried out with the greatest cunning. "Whilst on the wing," says Pöppig, "the large golden green Araras of the Andes will arrest their flight to come down upon the scarlet Coral trees (Erythrinæ) and the yellow Tachiæ, the heads of which they eagerly devour. Their cry is positively fearful; nevertheless, they are quite clever enough to understand that it would be dangerous to give utterance to it when they are just about to plunder some ripening field of Indian corn. At such a time, every one of them will repress its inclination to make a noise, giving utterance to no sound except a sort of murmur, with which it accompanies its proceedings, as it prosecutes its work of destruction with surprising quickness. The sportsman, or even the exasperated Indian, finds it by no means an easy task to surprise the thieves, seeing that two of the oldest birds are always set as watchmen upon the highest trees in the neighbourhood. The first note of alarm is immediately answered by a general, half-uttered cry from the assembled pilferers; the second is responded to by deafening screams, raised by the whole flock as they fly away, and it is only when their enemy has departed that they begin anew their destructive raid."

The presence of a numerous flock of parrots is generally only betrayed by the empty husks that rattle as they fall against the broad leaves of the bushes, producing a sound that can be heard from some distance.

Le Vaillant has noticed the silence of these birds at the approach of a suspicious-looking visitor, on the occasion of their mid-day assemblages. They will keep themselves so still that not the slightest sound can be heard to proceed from among them, even though thousands should be congregated together. On the discharge of a gun, the whole multitude will immediately take wing, and rise into the air with deafening cries, as though rendered furious by the interruption.

Far different is their conduct when they have become aware that the good-nature of man leaves them unmolested. In India, as Jerdan informs us, they not only come boldly into the towns, but will settle down, without the slightest shyness, upon the tops of the houses, and from this elevation descend to plunder the gardens and fields in the neighbourhood. Incredibly great, and justifying the most efficient means of defence on the part of man, is the destruction caused by parrots; nothing is safe that is not constantly guarded. Like the monkeys, they waste a great deal more than they eat.

The multitudes which assemble upon the fields or fruit trees devour all they can upon the spot, bite off still more, and carry a few ears of corn up into the trees, in order peaceably to fill their much craving stomachs. When they make their appearance in the orchard, they search every tree that is in fruit, and pluck such as may be ripe; bite a bit off, and if it does not exactly suit their very refined taste, throw it down upon the ground and take another instead. While feeding they generally climb the branches from below upwards, and as soon as they get to the top fly away to another tree, sweeping over the ground without ever moving their wings. Arrived at this second tree they recommence the work of destruction just as before.

In North America and in Chili they attack the fruit before it is ripe, in search of the as yet milky pippins, and we may imagine the damage thus caused. According to Audubon, the cornstacks in the fields are sometimes the objects of their attack; they will hang upon them, and draw the ears out of the sheaves, thus sparing the owner the trouble of threshing. Some prefer one kind of seed and some another; but all agree in spoiling everything that man sows or plants for his own use; and on this account anything like friendship between the farmer and the parrots is quite out of the question.

After having satisfied their hunger in this manner they go in search of water to drink; and, according to Audubon and Schomburgk, do not refuse salt, or at any rate brackish water. Besides occasional rain-baths, they will bathe in lakes, washing themselves, Le Vaillant tells us, until they are soaked through, as with a heavy rain. We also learn from Audubon that they enjoy playing in the sand like fowls, covering their plumage with dust, and will creep into king-fishers' holes, in order to find it. They are fond of salt ground, and are always to be found near the saltworks in the forests.

The incubation of these birds takes place during the months that correspond in their native lands to our spring. The larger kinds appear to lay but once in the year, and then only two eggs; though the Australian Grass Parrot and some others are exceptions to this rule, inasmuch as they will lay regularly from three to four eggs, and in some cases from six to nine, twice or even three times during the year. The eggs are always white, smooth, and round. Holes in trees are the favourite nesting-places of these birds, but not exclusively so; some American kinds will lay in holes in the rocks, and the Indian parrots in crevices in old buildings, pagodas, monuments, or houses.

Audubon assures us that several females will lay in one hole; but we consider this as very doubtful, though it is true that parrots prefer breeding in society, sometimes even associated in immense flocks.

Molina speaks of a large settlement of these breeding birds in Chili, and Pöppig of another, probably of the same species. "These several settlements," says the last-mentioned naturalist, "must be very astonishing to those to whom they are new. Fancy yourself, about mid-day, wearily approaching a precipice, believing yourself to be perfectly alone, that deep silence reigning around you that always indicates noon in these tropical regions, when all animals seek repose in sleep; a kind of growling strikes your ear, but you look in vain for any creature that could produce it; suddenly you hear the parrots' cry of warning, answered by many others, and before you are awake to your true position, are surrounded by swarms of these quarrelsome birds, flying about in a close circle, and in evident anger, threatening to strike you. From all the innumerable holes upon the face of the rocks little round heads are protruding, looking comical enough; and those that do not come out unite their screams to the general uproar. Every opening indicates a breeding hole, that has been excavated by its owner in the clay met with between the strata of the rocks. At times many hundreds may be counted."

These colonies are always so cunningly situated, that it is impossible for a beast of prey to approach them. Such settlements could not be made in the woods, as the trees would not afford a foundation strong enough to sustain their weight.

In general, it is in old trees that parrots make their nests; in Central Africa the Adansonia is preferred, more especially should it grow on the outskirts of a forest. We once saw a group of monkey-bread trees in the Kordofanian steppes inhabited in this manner, although not yet covered with their leaves.

As it is not always possible to find a trunk whose interior has been hollowed by some friendly woodpecker, the parrots are often forced to excavate their own nesting-places, and then it is that they show what an available instrument their beak can be. It is the female who almost, but not exclusively, makes the hole; at this work she shows herself most skilful; she hangs, like a woodpecker, from the bark, and gnaws, rather than cuts away, one shred after another, until the dwelling is completed; this labour often occupies several weeks, but with patience the end is at length attained. The hole is the principal matter, the nest does not need much making; a few chips picked from the ground are all that is required as a bed on which to deposit the eggs; even a hole that leaves much to be desired in the way of convenience will content these very easily satisfied parents. "From the white stem of a Trimi-palm," says Pöppig, "I once saw a brilliant light blue tail depending; it betrayed the Yellow Arara, who was busy with her strong beak enlarging a woodpecker's hole, out of which her ell-long tail hangs whilst brooding." The female generally sits alone, and is fed and entertained by her mate during the whole time of incubation.

Among the smaller kinds of these birds, the brooding season lasts from eighteen to twenty, and with others nineteen, twenty-three, or twenty-five days.

The young are perfectly helpless when they leave the egg, but their growth and development is rapid. At first they are very imperfectly fledged, but in from five to six days the feathers begin to sprout, and they open their eyes within eight or ten days of their birth. The warbling Grass Parrakeet leaves the nest thirty-three days after being hatched, and may be seen flying about two days later. Both parents feed the young and tend them for some time after they have left the nest.

The food, if corn, is softened in the parent's crop before it is put into the beak of the young bird. Schomburgk tells us that a pair of parrots which had settled near his encampment in the wood, only fed their young twice in the day, once at eleven in the forenoon and again about five in the evening. As soon as they arrived they perched upon a branch near the hole, and if they fancied themselves watched would sit quite still, until they thought that a favourable opportunity occurred for stealing in unobserved.

The parents are by no means deficient in tender care for their progeny, and will shield their offspring from danger with most self-sacrificing courage. Some species will attach themselves with great tenderness to deserted birds; not merely to those of their own family, but to any helpless orphan, even although belonging to another species.

Cunningham tells us that the surgeon of the Triton—a ship plying between England and Australia—had a Blue Mountain Parrot, and a very beautiful smaller one, that he had taken from its nest so young that it was unable to feed itself. Under these circumstances the elder bird undertook to give it food, and watched over it with the greatest anxiety. The mutual friendship of these creatures seemed to increase as time went on; most part of the day was spent in caresses; they trimmed each other's feathers, and the old bird would spread her wings over her little charge with every indication of solicitude. Indeed, their affectionate demonstrations soon became so noisy that they had to be separated, in order that the passengers might not be annoyed, and the young one was placed in a cabin with several others.

After a two months' separation the elder parrot succeeded in escaping, and was guided to the cabin by the voice of its young protégé, to whose cage it clung. From this time the friends were not parted, but a fortnight later the young one died, in consequence of a wound caused by a fall. Its friend was silent from that hour, and did not long survive its little charge.

Parrots attain their full beauty of plumage, and commence laying by the time they are two years old; some of the smaller kinds breed within the first twelve months, but, notwithstanding this, live for many years, and have been known to long survive the family in which they passed their youth.

In countries where parrots abound they are destroyed with unrelenting perseverance, and this simply for the protection of property. "People must not imagine," says Audubon, "that all the injuries they are guilty of meet with no reprisals; on the contrary, these birds are slaughtered in great numbers during their predatory visits to the farmers. Armed with his loaded gun, the exasperated proprietor creeps amongst them, and brings down eight or ten at the first shot; the survivors rise screaming into the air, fly about in circles for three or four minutes, but return, and surround the bodies of their fallen companions, uttering loud cries, and this is repeated again and again, until so few remain that the farmer does not think it worth while to waste his powder and shot upon them. Hundreds are thus destroyed in the course of a few hours, and baskets filled with the spoils."

Various are the expedients adopted for their destruction in different parts of the world. The Chilians rush out with all speed when they see the parrots settling, and attack them with sticks. The Australians rouse them from their sleeping-place, and then throw their boomerangs amongst the retreating flock. Adventurous men let themselves down the rocks in which the South American species breed, to draw the young out of their holes with hooks; or shooting parties and hunters endeavour to steal upon them unawares. When it is found impossible to climb the trees on which they breed, these are cut down, and nets and limed twigs placed around to catch the young. The flesh of the slaughtered birds is often eaten, although hard and tough, or is made into excellent soup.

Very frequently they are sought for on account of their splendid plumage. "There is nothing more natural," says the Prince von Wied, "than this most simple and pleasing decoration, to the use of which savages are much addicted; and very beautiful are the articles made from feathers by entirely untaught tribes; many of the aborigines of Brazil particularly excelled in this kind of work." The love for parrot feathers is very ancient. "In long forgotten times," says Pöppig, "the inhabitants of the tropical forests brought arara feathers as tribute to the Incas, for the decoration of their palaces, and early historians inform us that these feathers and the 'Koka' were the only produce which led to the peopling and cultivation of the formidably hot districts in which they abound."

It is said that Alexander the Great brought tame parrots from India, and in later times these birds were taken in great numbers to Rome, where the favour in which they were held was carried to such excess that it was often reproved in the open forum. "Oh, unhappy Rome!" cried that severe censor Marcus Portius Cato; "have we lived to see the day when our women nurse dogs upon their laps, and our men go about with parrots on their hands?" The Romans kept them in cages made of silver, tortoise-shell, and ivory, and had tutors who particularly taught them to utter the word Cæsar; in those days the price of a parrot that could speak exceeded that of a slave. Ovid did not consider it beneath him to sing their praises, and Heliogabalus thought he could not set anything more delicate than parrots' heads before his guests. In Nero's reign, it would seem, only Indian species were known; but probably at a later period African parrots were introduced.

During the Crusades these birds adorned the houses of the rich, and the first discoverers of America found tame parrots in the huts of the natives. Von Schomburghk tells us, that in their native lands, when tame, they are allowed to fly about, without having their wings clipped. "I saw many," he writes, "which joined the flocks that were living over the village during the day, and returned to their master's hut at night."

In comparison with such a life as this the parrots brought to Europe have a sad fate; but they suffer most before their destination is reached. The Indians inhabiting the primitive forests capture them in order to exchange them for European articles, and hand them over to some sailor in the nearest harbour, who knows nothing either of the necessary food or of the care they require; not more than half the number that are shipped survive the long sea voyage, and many of those that reach Europe in safety perish in the dark, dirty, pestiferous shops of the dealers. It is only when the bird receives especial attention that its fate is ameliorated; but by that time it has often become distrustful, violent, and ill-behaved, and only loses these rude ways after long care and kind treatment; it is, however, very quick, soon learns to adapt itself to its altered position, and becomes accustomed to all kinds of diet. At first hemp or canary seed is acceptable, but after a time the parrot grows more dainty, and if supplied with sweets becomes such an epicure that any less delicate food is distasteful; it is easily habituated to almost anything that man enjoys, even to tea, coffee, wine, or beer, and will quite intoxicate itself with strong drink. These remarks do not apply to the little Australian Ground parrot, which refuses everything except grass seeds and the leaves of plants. Most of the larger kinds enjoy hemp-seed, hard-boiled rice, ants, maize, lettuce, cabbage, fruit, small kinds of millet, canary-seed, and the leaves of plants; such food as this keeps them well and thriving. Bitter almonds and parsley, according to Küle, are poisonous to these birds.

Many degrees of intelligence are observable among the members of the Parrot tribe, and the same species often contains individuals of very varied capabilities; but the memory of all is generally excellent. As regards teaching them to speak, the most important point to be attended to is that they should at first be kept closely confined and constantly instructed; any extent of freedom may, however, be accorded when their education is nearly completed. On the contrary, should the owner desire the parrot to breed, a certain amount of liberty is needful. For this purpose the first requisites are space, quiet, and a suitable tree for the nest. A tolerably roomy chamber in which they may live throughout the year, and the trunk of a hollow tree with convenient holes, the wood being of a soft kind, afford all that is necessary in these respects.

The classification of parrots is particularly difficult, on account of the great number of species, and it is almost impossible to indicate distinct boundaries between the different families. It will, however, answer our present purpose to arrange them under the general titles of True Parrots (Psittacinæ), Macaws (Arainæ), Lories (Lorinæ), Cockatoos (Cacatuinæ), and Ground Parrots (Pezoporinæ), all of which differ from each other more or less in their habits and modes of life.

THE TRUE PARROTS (Psittacinæ)

are inhabitants of the woods, only leaving them to linger on their outskirts, and from thence to contemplate the tempting fields of fruit, upon which from time to time they make a raid. Many of them never quit their dense forests, whilst others of the smaller kinds prefer the less shady trees or open country.

These birds belong to Africa and the neighbouring islands, and also to various islands in the Pacific Ocean; they are likewise met with in great numbers in South America. The family is very rich in species; we shall, however, only select a few from the many, seeing that the mere description of their plumage would be wearisome, and we scarcely possess any information with regard to their mode of life in their native haunts. There can be no hesitation in placing the "Jako," the Grey, or Red-tailed Parrot (Psittacus erithacus) first upon the list, for it may be considered as the type of the race; it is true that it has neither the quickest flight nor the gayest plumage, but it combines in itself that equal excellence of all the attributes of a parrot which gives and will retain for it a pre-eminence among its congeners.

THE JAKO.

The Grey Parrot exhibits only two colours in its plumage. The tail is of a deep Cinnabar red, and all the other feathers are ash-grey or greyish blue, bordered with a lighter shade; near the head and neck the light borders of the feathers are somewhat wider than elsewhere. The beak is black, the eyes light brown, the bare places round the latter of a whitish colour. The male and female do not differ in hue, and but little in size, the male being the largest; its average measurement is twelve inches in length and twenty-five inches across the wings, the tail three inches and a half, the wing from shoulder to tip eight inches and a half; when folded, the wing extends some lines beyond the tail.

Very little is known of these birds in their wild state, although they are brought to Europe in far greater numbers than any other species. We learn from Heuglin that the habitat of the Jako extends from the western coast of Africa, deep into the heart of that continent, and reliable naturalists have seen it in great numbers in Wan and Bongo, up to 8° north latitude. It does not appear to penetrate further east, and is quite unknown in eastern Soudan; how far north and south it is found is at present doubtful. It is worthy of remark that these birds were not many years ago imported from Guinea to Madagascar, where they became naturalised and increased so rapidly, that at the commencement of the eighteenth century their numbers rendered them a perfect scourge to the inhabitants of the island of Bourbon and the Mauritius. The Grey parrot is one of the most highly-prized of our domestic favourites, and well merits the esteem in which it is held. Its praises have been sung in all languages, and every work on natural history relates some anecdotes of its surprising cleverness.

Perhaps the most celebrated of the species is one which lived for many years in Vienna and Salzburg, and luckily found an exact and industrious observer of its performances.

The Count Courcy Droitaumont was the first who, in the year 1835, in Oken's "Isis," gave us such particulars of its attainments as awakened astonishment in all quarters. This account has been attested by the late possessor of the parrot, President Kleimayrn, at the wish of Lenz, who afterwards published the following narrative:—"Jako noticed and criticised everything that passed before him, gave the proper answer to a question, did as he was bidden, saluted people who entered the room, and made his adieux to those who were taking leave; he wished you good morning and good night at the proper times, and asked for food when he was hungry.

"He called all the members of the family by name, and preferred some of them to others; if he wanted me (his master), he called out 'Papa, come here,' and whatever he said, sang, or whistled, was done as a human being would do it. There were times when he seemed inspired like an improvisatore; his voice then sounded like that of a speaker heard from a distance, when too far off to enable you to understand the words.

"Sometimes he would be marvellously polite—'Good morning, reverend sir!' 'An almond, if you please, reverend sir!' 'Do you want an almond?' 'Should you like a nut?' 'Shall I have some food soon?' 'Have you got something?' Occasionally he would threaten—'Be off, you rascal; are you going home or not?' 'Be off, you thief, or wait till I come!' 'You idiot!' 'You clown!' At times he was self-complacent—'Good little prattler!' 'You are an excellent little parrot!' 'Take time, neighbour, take time!' &c. If any one knocked at the door he would call very loudly and distinctly (just like a man) 'Come in! Come in, Herr B.!' 'What orders have you?' 'I am your humble servant!' 'I am delighted to have the honour! quite delighted to have the honour!' Or he would tap on his cage and say the above to himself.

"He could imitate the cuckoo excellently. Occasionally his conversation was rather discursive. 'Look out!' 'Come out!' 'Come up!' 'My dear little parrot!' 'Bravo, bravissimo!' 'Are we not going to dinner?' 'Let us go to the window!' 'Hieronymus, stand up!' 'I am going!' 'Long live the Emperor!' 'Where have you been?' 'Will you kindly excuse me, but I thought you were a bird?' Whenever he bit or spoiled anything, he would say, 'Don't bite!' 'Be quiet, do!' 'What have you been doing?' 'Wait a minute, you rascal; what have you been doing?' 'I am coming after you!' 'How are you, you little chatterer?' 'Have you got something to eat?' 'I hope you will enjoy it!' 'Hush, hush, good night!' 'Pretty Poll may go out; so come, come shoot, Poll, shoot!' and then he would shoot, calling loudly 'Puff!' 'There, there, there!' 'Go home, come march, go home directly!' 'I'm coming after you!' He would ring a bell that was placed in his house, and say, 'Who's that ringing? who's that ringing?' 'Why, here's a little dog! a pretty little dog!' Then he would whistle to the dog and say, 'Whistle, little dog!' and ask, 'What does the little dog say?' and then bark. If told to fire, he would say 'Puff!' and give the word of command, 'Halt; right about face; make ready; present; fire! Bravo, bravo!' He never said 'Bravo!' in connection with his faults.

THE JAKO (Psittacus erithacus).

"Sometimes he would cry out, 'What are you shaking me for? What are you doing to me?' and scream for help, as though being shaken, and call out again, 'Don't shake me, you rascal! Ah! that's the way of the world! alas! alas! Don't shake me, you rascal!' and then laugh with great distinctness. If anything ailed him, he would exclaim mournfully, 'Poor Poll is ill; poor little parrot!' If annoyed, his tone became defiant—'Wait a minute; I'll come and punish you!' If ever he saw the cloth being laid, or heard from a distance that preparations were making for a meal, he would immediately call out, 'Let's go to dinner!' When the family were at breakfast he would ask, 'Am I to have anything? I should like some chocolate!' He would remain quiet as long as his master slept; but if in another room would begin singing and whistling at break of day. In order to see if it would be possible to teach Jako to sing, we selected such words as he could say, and he was soon able to sing a verse of a song; he could put in harmonies, and readily run up and down the scales, and learnt to whistle many scraps and shakes. He never kept to the same key, but would take the air half a tone higher or lower, and yet never utter a false note. Whilst at Vienna he was taught an air from 'Martha,' and on being shown a dance, tried to imitate it by raising one foot after another, and putting his body into dancing attitudes. Kleimayrn died in 1853, and Jako fell ill, as it would seem, from pining after his beloved master. In 1854 he was so weak that he had to be laid in a little bed and carefully tended; he continued, however, to talk incessantly, and after saying, 'Your poor little parrot is ill!'—died."

A young lady has given us the following particulars about another "Jako:"—"The parrot of which I am about to speak was given me by a man who had lived for many years in the East Indies. The bird at first knew nothing but Dutch, but soon learnt German and French, and after a time spoke as clearly as a human being in all three languages; he was so observant that he often used phrases which had never been taught him, applying them on fitting occasions in the most astonishing manner. He said a number of disjointed Dutch words and sentences, intermixing German quite correctly when the phrase was not forthcoming in the former language. He could ask, answer, and request you to give him something, and thank you for it, varying the use of the words according to the time, place, or person. 'The little parrot wants something to eat!' If he did not get what he wanted, he would immediately scream out, 'I must and will have something to eat!' And if still kept waiting would begin throwing everything about to vent his anger. He said 'bon jour' in the morning, and 'bon soir' in the evening; asked permission to retire, and took his leave of us. When he was carried out, he would say, 'Bon soir, bon soir.'

"This bird was particularly attached to his mistress, from whom he received his food, and would press his beak on her hand, and say, 'Kiss the lady's hand.' He took great interest in all she did, and whilst she was busied with something would often ask, with most comic earnestness, 'What is the lady doing?' After her death, he evinced great sorrow, and it was only with difficulty that he could be persuaded to take food, or that his life could be preserved. He whistled wonderfully well, particularly the tune, 'Ich dank dir schon durch deiner Sohn,' and sang most beautifully. He would say to himself, 'Polly must sing a little,' and then begin—

"'Perroquet mignon,

Dis moi sans façon,

Qu'a-t-on fait dans ma maison

Pendant mon absence.'

Or—

"'Ohne Lieb und ohne Wein

Können wir doch leben?'

Then he would sometimes say—

"'Ohne Lieb und ohne maison

Können wir doch leben.'

Or—

"'Ein Kuss—sans façon.'

The latter version seemed to amuse him so much that he would burst into loud laughter. 'Polly, what does Lottie say?' he would sometimes ask himself, and answer immediately, as though some one else had put the question, 'Oh, my beautiful, beautiful little parrot; come and kiss me.' And this he would utter with the exact tone of endearment used by Lottie. He expressed his conceit by saying, 'Ah, how beautiful I am!' at the same time stroking his beak with his foot, though he was by no means handsome, for he had the ugly trick of pulling out his feathers. On this account he was ordered wine baths, which were administered to him by the help of a watering can. These baths were most disagreeable to him, and as soon as he saw preparations being made he would beg imploringly, 'Please don't make me wet! Poor little parrot! Please don't wet me!'

"He could not bear strangers, and those who came to see him, and wanted to hear him speak, only attained their wishes by hiding themselves. In their presence he was as quiet as a mouse, but chattered incessantly when visitors were out of sight, as though he wanted to indemnify himself for the restraint he had been under. There were people, however, who managed to gain his affections, and he would talk with them when they came, and used even to crack his jokes about them. A fat major, with whom he was well acquainted, was trying one day to teach him a new trick. 'Get upon the stick, parrot; get upon the stick!' commanded the soldier. But Polly seemed sulky. All at once, the bird burst into a loud laugh, and said, 'Get upon the stick, major; get upon the stick!' Another friend of his had not come to the house for some time. The visitor had been talked about, and it was expected that 'Roth,' as he was called, would make his appearance on a certain day. 'Here comes Roth,' said the bird, suddenly, as he saw him approaching through the window, and recognised him from some distance.

"This poor parrot came to an unlucky end; it was given as a present to a relation of its master, who had become superannuated, and had taken a childish fancy to the bird. But it could not endure the parting from all it loved, and died in the course of a few days."

We could tell of many grey parrots that have been brought to great perfection in the art of speaking, but the preceding anecdotes combine all that these birds have been known to do, so we will only observe that their wonderful memory and powers of mimicry have sometimes their disadvantages. Their first teachers are usually sailors, and it may, therefore, be easily imagined that their vocabulary is neither choice nor elegant; unluckily, the best educated birds will often remember these old lessons, and intermix the lowest and commonest words with their pretty phrases and speeches. The parrot can reproduce any peculiar sound with as much ease as it learns words, and will imitate the creaking of a neighbouring door, the barking of a dog, the mewing of a cat, or even an old man's cough.

Mr. Wood tells us that a friend of his had a parrot of this species, which proved herself a most tender and affectionate guardian. In a hedge of roses near its owner's house, a pair of finches had built their nest, and were regularly fed by the family, who were much attached to all kinds of pet animals. The numerous visitors to the rose hedge attracted Polly's attention, and, seeing the food they gave strewed around, she determined to emulate their good example. Being allowed to fly about, she left her cage, imitated the cry of the old finches, and gave the nestlings a part of her food; but these expressions of sympathy did not please the parent birds, who at once deserted their young from fear of the large stranger, so that Polly saw the little ones thus become orphans, and a fine field opened for her fostering care. From that hour she refused to return to her cage, and remained day and night near her adopted children, whom she fed with the greatest assiduity, and had the pleasure of rearing successfully. When the little ones were fledged they used to perch upon the head and neck of their foster-mother, who bore the burden with exemplary care; the parrot, however, received but small thanks, for her young charges had no sooner wings strong enough to bear them than they flew away. Poor Polly was for some time in bitter distress, but at length found consolation for her motherly feelings in the discovery of some deserted hedge sparrows; these she conveyed to her cage, where they were soon on the best terms with their adopted parent.

Many American varieties of the Short-tails, usually called GREEN PARROTS (Chrysotis), differ from their African congeners, the Jakos, in their prevailing green colour, and in the small size of the bare parts around the eyes. Their body is compact, the beak strongly bent, the tail short, broad, and somewhat rounded; the wings broad, and strongly formed, reaching nearly to the middle of the tail; the legs are strong, thick, and fleshy; the feet powerful, and armed with strong claws, the plumage lies close and thick, the feathers being small and imbricated. Two species of this family are especially well known to us, the Green and the Amazon. They are both large birds, of fourteen inches long, and about twenty-one to twenty-three across the wings; the tail measures from four inches to four inches and two-thirds; and the wing, from the shoulder to the tip, seven inches.

THE AMAZON PARROT.

The Amazon Parrot (Chrysotis Amazonicus) is of a brilliant green colour, sky blue on the brow and top of the head, yellow on its cheeks and throat, and red on the shoulders; the side tail-feathers are blood-red beneath, the beak deep horn grey, the cere blackish, the feet ash grey, powdered with white, and the iris externally bordered with orange, and internally with pale yellow. The Green parrot (Chrysotis æstivus), on the contrary, has its forehead and cheek stripes of a sky blue colour. The shoulders are green, and the red side-feathers of the tail edged with green.

From the observations made by the Prince von Wied, Speke, Schomburghk, and Burmeister, we learn that both kinds are widely spread over South America.

The Amazon parrot avoids the forests near the coast, but frequents the woods and bushes of the higher lands, while the Green parrot prefers the primitive forests. Both kinds are much alike in their habits and mode of life. Early in the morning they leave their roosting-places, and fly screaming through the air, beating violently with their wings, until they reach the woods or plantations where they can find fruit; at noon they rest, after which they set out in search of food; and in the evening, except in breeding time, assemble in great numbers, making a terrible noise until a roosting-place is found for the night.

The Prince von Wied gives the following account of the Green parrot, which is called the Kuriche by the Brazilians:—"In all the eastern coasts of Brazil that I travelled through this bird was very common; I found it in numbers wherever there were thick forests, and on the borders of mango swamps at the mouths of rivers; it breeds equally well in all such places, but seems to prefer localities where it can obtain the fruit of the mango. Great flocks inhabit the wooded country around Rio de Janeiro, Parahiba, Espirito Santo, and Belmonte, and their loud voices may be heard morning and evening in the bushes of the bog-like country, which is watered by the floods from the rivers. These bushes stand in the same relation to the Brazilian rivers as willows do to European streams; but the trees are higher, and the parrots can often make their homes on their strong stems or branches. In the breeding season they usually fly up into the air in pairs, calling and screaming loudly, but except at that time are met with in very numerous flocks. We ourselves have seen such enormous swarms of short-tailed parrots in the Mucuri forests and other places, that the whole woodland was filled with their extraordinary cry. On these occasions many different species seemed to be combined in one flock; their united screams were deafening, and as one party drove another from the trees, excitement gave new vigour to their shrieks. Should they alight upon a lofty, thickly-foliaged tree, it is often very difficult to see them, as their green hue is a great protection, and their presence is only indicated by the fall of the shells and stones of the fruit they devour. Whilst eating they remain quiet, but if alarmed will utter loud cries. They are shot in great numbers, as they are excellent food, and the soup made from their flesh is much esteemed both in Brazil and Surinam. These parrots lay two white eggs in holes of trees, upon a bed of shreds of wood, chipped out in preparing the nest; they breed but once in the year, and that in the spring time of their native land."

THE AMAZON PARROT (Chrysotis Amazonicus).

"The young, if taken from the nest, are soon tamed, and learn to speak distinctly; on this account they are frequently found in the Brazilian houses, and are brought in great numbers into the towns, and sold to sailors, who bring them to Europe; they do not learn to speak so readily as the grey parrot, but prove teachable, tolerably gentle, and amiable towards those that feed them."

Under the generic name of PIONUS, Wagner unites many small parrots, which we will call the BLUNT-TAILED PARROTS. Their bodies are compact, the tail very short, the wings on the contrary being slender, pointed, and so long that they reach at least as far as the middle of the tail; the beak is compressed at the sides, and the upper mandible generally terminates in a long pointed hook. The legs are strong and powerful, the plumage usually harsh, and the feathers cordiform and particularly small. Those on the head and neck are thick and strikingly coloured. We are familiar with many varieties of these birds, most of them from South America, and with others from Africa, which have lately been placed in a different tribe.

THE MAITAKKA (Pionus menstruus).

THE MAITAKKA.

Of all the blunt-tailed parrots, none is brought to Europe in greater numbers than the Brazilian Maitakka (Pionus menstruus). This bird is of middle size, ten and a half inches long and twenty inches across; the tail is three inches long, and the wing six inches in length from the shoulder to the tip. The plumage on the head, neck, throat, and upper part of the breast, is ultramarine, through which the black ground colour is visible: the neck feathers are of a copperish green, edged with blue. The back, lower part of belly, breast, and wings are copper green, the feathers on the back being edged with a darker shade; those upon the breast are shaded with light blue. The upper wing-covers are of a yellowish olive green, the under covers the colour of verdigris; the quill-feathers are green, bordered with black, the wing-feathers blood-red, yellow at the tip, and the shafts blue. The two middle tail-feathers are green, the tip and outer web are blue, and near the root of a light blood-red. The beak is horn grey at the tip and paler at the base, with a rose-coloured spot on both sides beneath the nostrils; the legs are of a greyish slate colour, the eye-rings bluish grey, and the eyes greyish brown. The female resembles the male, but is somewhat paler. In the young, grey is generally the prevailing hue; in old birds blue predominates.

According to the testimony of travellers, particularly the Prince von Wied, Schomburghk, and Burmeister, the Maitakka inhabits all the country near the coast in Brazil and Guiana, where these birds are met with in great numbers. They live in pairs in the dry season, and assemble in large flocks during the rainy part of the year, flying with loud cries from tree to tree, and settling upon those most heavily laden with fruit, to which they often do great damage, returning in the evening to their usual resting-places. Their movements depend upon the time when the different fruits are ripe, and to enjoy these they fly about the country in various directions, during the rainy season approaching nearer to the plantations on the coast and open country, but in the hotter part of the year keeping more immediately in the neighbourhood of the principal forests.

The flocks of these birds are very noisy; but when pairing they only utter their call-note, which is a shrill, harsh cry. They breed during the dry season, and their preparations for sitting do not differ from those of other parrots. The Maitakka is hunted zealously throughout the whole of Brazil, partly in order to drive it from the plantations, and partly for the sake of its flesh. It is often tamed, and though not so teachable as other parrots, soon becomes accustomed to captivity, and can be taught to utter disjointed words. Great numbers are brought to the coast, and eagerly purchased by sailors, for though very numerous in Europe, these birds always command a high price. With care they can endure confinement for many years.

THE CRESTED HAWK PARROT.

One of the American parrots which we include in this family reminds us of the cockatoos, and must be considered as the type of a peculiar tribe (Deroptyus). Linnæus, who was acquainted with it, gave it two distinct names, the one on account of its sparrow-hawk-like plumage (Deroptyus accipitrinus), the other, because of its frill of elongated feathers (Deroptyus coronatus). We will call it the Crested Hawk-Parrot, seeing that the long feathers on the nape of the neck, which can be raised at pleasure, distinguish it from other South American species.