NATURAL

118

HISTORY.

THE HUMMING BIRD.

Of all the birds that flutter in the garden, or paint the landscape, the humming bird is the most delightful to look upon, and the most inoffensive. Of this charming little

animal, there are six or seven varieties, from the size of a small wren, down to that of a humble bee. An European would not readily suppose that there exist any birds so very small; and yet completely furnished with a bill, with feathers, wings, and intestines, exactly resembling those of the largest kinds. Birds not so big as the end of one's little finger, would probably be supposed mere creatures of imagination, were they not seen in infinite numbers, and, as frequent as butterflies in a summer's day, sporting in the fields of America, from flower to flower, and extracting sweets with their little bills.

The smallest humming-bird is about the size of a hazel nut. The feathers on its wings and tail are black: but those on its body, and under its wings, are of a greenish brown, with a fine red cast or gloss, which no silk or velvet can imitate. It has a small crest on its head, green at the bottom, and, as it were, gilded at the top; which sparkles in the sun like a little star in the middle of its forehead. The bill is black, straight, slender, and of the length of a small pin.

It is inconceivable how much these birds add to the high-finishing and beauty of a rich, luxurious, western landscape. As soon as the sun is risen, the humming birds of different kinds are seen fluttering about the flowers, without ever alighting upon them. Their wings are in so rapid motion, that it is impossible to discern their colours, except by their glittering. They are never still, but continually in motion, visiting flower after flower, and extracting its honey as if with a kiss. For this purpose they are furnished with a forky tongue, that enters the cup of the flower, and extracts its nectared tribute. Upon this alone

they subsist. The rapid motion of their wings occasions a humming sound, from whence they have their name: for whatever divides the air swiftly, must produce a murmur. The nests of these birds are also very curious. They are suspended in the air, at the point of the twigs of an orange, a pomegranate, or a citron tree; sometimes even in houses, if a small and convenient twig is found for the purpose. The female is the architect, while the male goes in quest of materials, such as cotton, fine moss, and the fibres of vegetables. Of these materials a nest is composed, about the size of a hen's egg cut in two: it is admirably contrived, and warmly lined with cotton. There are never more than two eggs found in the nest; these are about the size of small peas, and as white as snow, and here and there a yellow speck. The male and the female sit upon the nest by turns; but the female takes to herself the greatest share. She seldom quits the nest, except a few minutes in the morning and evening, when the dew is upon the flowers, and their honey in perfection. During this short interval, the male takes her place. The time of incubation continues twelve days; at the end of which the young ones appear, much about the size of a blue-bottle fly. They are at first bare; by degrees they are covered with down; and at last, feathers succeed, but less beautiful at first than those of the old ones.

Labat, in his account of the mission to America, says, "that his companion found the nest of a humming bird in a shed near the dwelling-house, and took it in, at a time when the young ones were about fifteen or twenty days old. He placed them in a cage at the chamber window, to be amused by their sportive flutterings: but he was much surprised to see the old ones, which came, and fed their brood regularly every hour in the day. By this means they themselves grew so tame, that they seldom quitted the chamber, and, without any restraint, came to live with their young ones. All four frequently perched upon their master's hand, chirping as if they had been at liberty abroad. He fed them with a very fine clear paste, made of wine, biscuit, and sugar. They thrust their tongues into this paste till they were satisfied, and then fluttered and chirped about the room." "I never beheld any thing more agreeable," continues he, "than this lovely little family, which had possession of my companion's

chamber, and flew in and out just as they thought proper; but were ever attentive to the voice of their master, when he called them. In this manner they lived with him above six months; but at a time when he expected to see a new colony formed, he unfortunately forgot to tie up their cage to the ceiling at night, to preserve them from the rats, and he found in the morning, to his great mortification, that they were all devoured.' -Goldsmith.

THE NIGHTINGALE.

THE most celebrated of all birds, both in ancient and modern times, is the Nightingale. It is the Philomela of the ancients: that is, "the lover of darkness," from the habit of the bird to sing late in the evening and in the early morning hours, when other birds are at roost. One of the earliest notices of the nightingale is in the Odyssey,

As when the months are clad in flowery green,
Sad Philomel in bowery shades unseen.

Hesiod and Oppian notice the variety of its song, calling it the "various-voiced," or "various-throated" bird; Sophocles refers to its notes as affording an image of vociferous sorrow; and Virgil and Ovid attribute to them a plaintive character. Later poets describe the nightingale as lamenting and complaining, or giving way to despair.

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All abandon'd to despair she sings

Her sorrows through the night.-THOMSON.

Coleridge, however, does not admit that the character of song is melancholy. He says:

A melancholy bird? Oh! idle thought

In nature there is nothing melancholy.

But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced
With the remembrance of some grievous wrong,

Or slow distemper, or neglected love;

(And so, poor wretch! fill'd all things with himself,

And made all gentle sounds send back the tale

Of his own sorrow :) he, and such as he,

First named these notes a melancholy strain,
And many a poet echoes the conceit.

We have learnt
A different lore; we may not thus profane
Nature's sweet voices, always full of love
And joyance. 'Tis the merry nightingale
That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates,
With fast thick warble, his delicious notes,
As he were fearful that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter forth
His love chaunt, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music!

The nightingale inhabits Europe, from Italy and Spain in the south to Sweden in the north. It is also found in Siberia, and has been seen in some parts of Asia and Africa. It leaves the temperate countries of Europe as winter approaches, and retires into warmer regions. Sonnini has observed the arrival of nightingales in Lower Egypt during the autumn, has seen them during winter on the fresh and smiling plains of the Delta, and has also witnessed their passage in the islands of the Archipelago. In some parts of Asia Minor the nightingale is common, and never quits the woods in which it has taken up its abode. These birds are found in considerable numbers on the coast of Barbary, where they are always more numerous at the time when they have quite disappeared from the countries of the north. So powerful is the instinct of migration in the nightingale, that those which are kept in captivity usually exhibit much agitation, especially during the night, at the periods when the species migrate. The departure and return of these birds is due not only to the change in the season, but to the abundance or scarcity of their appropriate food.

When passing through countries which are foreign to them, on their route to their winter or summer home, nightingales never pour forth their enchanting melody: it is only during the nesting season, and when they are rearing their young, that those strains are heard which give so much delight. The song of these birds is said to be richer and more varied in some countries than in others. Thus the nightingales of Persia, Karamania, and Greece, are said to sing better than those of Italy; the Italian birds, again, are valued above those of France, and the French above the English. Whether this be anything more than a fanciful theory, we have no good means of judging; but the following testimony seems to contradict

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the idea that situation has much influence on the song of this bird. "In 1802," says Mr. Symes, "being at Geneva, at the residence of a friend, about three miles from the town, in a quiet sequestered spot, surrounded by gardens and forests, and within hearing of the murmur of the Rhone, there, on a beautiful still evening, the air soft and balmy, the windows of the house open, and the twilight chequered by trees, there we heard two nightingales sing indeed most delightfully,—but not more so than one we heard down a stair in a dark cellar in the High Street, in Edinburgh;-such a place as that described in The Antiquary; no window, and no light admitted, but what came from the open door, and the atmosphere charged with the fumes of tobacco and spirits; it was a place where carriers lodged or put up, and the heads of the porters and chairmen, carrying luggage, nearly came in contact with the cage, which was hung at the foot of the staircase; yet even here did this bird sing in as mellow, as sweet, and as sprightly a manner as did those at Geneva."

The nightingale is naturally timid and solitary, and arrives and departs alone. It appears in England from the middle of April to the beginning of May, according to the season. At first it remains in hedges and thickets on the borders of cultivated ground, where an abundant supply of food can be procured; but as soon as the larger trees are covered with foliage, it retires into the woods, and hides in the thickest recesses. The neighbourhood of some purling stream is generally chosen by the bird, and the male usually has two or three favourite trees near the nest, on one or the other of which he constantly sings during the period of incubation, and never allows one of his own species to approach the spot. The nest is usually commenced about the beginning of May, and is formed with coarse weeds and dried oak-leaves on the outside, and with horse-hair, little roots, and cow-hair on the inside. It is placed near the ground in brushwood at the foot of a hedge, or on the low branches of some thick shrub, and is so slightly constructed, that an attempt to displace it will often cause it to crumble to pieces. Four or five eggs of a greenish brown colour are deposited in it, and the male supplies food to the female while she is sitting. The little ones have the body covered with feathers in a fortnight from the time they are hatched, and quit the nest before they