Illustrative Anecdotes of the Animal Kingdom Part 16

We are told that, in the year 1827, as two boys, the one seven and the other five years old, were amusing themselves in a field, in the state of New York, in trying to reap during the time that their parents were at dinner, a large eagle came sailing over them, and with a swoop attempted to seize the eldest, but luckily missed him. The bird, not at all dismayed, sat on the ground at a short distance, and in a few moments repeated the attempt. The bold little fellow defended himself with the sickle in his hand, and, when the bird rushed upon him, he struck it. The sickle entered under the left wing, went through the ribs, and, penetrating the liver, instantly proved fatal.

A gentleman, visiting a friend's house in Scotland, went to see a nest which had been occupied by eagles for several summers. There was a stone near it, upon which, when there were young ones, there were always to be found grouse, partridges, ducks, and other game, beside kids, fawns, and lambs. As these birds kept such an excellent storehouse, the owner said that he was in the habit, when he had unexpected company, of sending his servants to see what his neighbors, the eagles, had to spare, and they scarcely ever returned without some dainty dishes for the table; game of all kinds being better for having been kept. When the servants took away any quant.i.ty of provisions from the stone larder, the eagles lost no time in bringing in new supplies.

As some gentlemen were once hunting in Ireland, a large eagle hastily descended and seized their terrier. This being observed by some of the party, they encouraged the dog, who, turning on the eagle as it continued to soar within a few feet of the ground, brought it down by seizing its wing, and held it fast till the gentlemen secured it.

Sir H. Davy gives us the following: "I once saw a very interesting sight, above one of the crags of Ben-Nevis, as I was going in the pursuit of game. Two parent eagles were teaching their offspring--two young birds--the manoeuvres of flight. They began by rising to the top of a mountain in the eye of the sun; it was about midday, and bright for this climate. They at first made small circles, and the young birds imitated them; they then paused on their wings, waiting till they had made their first flight. They then took a second and larger gyration, always rising towards the sun, and enlarging their circle of flight, so as to make a gradually ascending spiral. The young ones slowly followed, apparently flying better as they mounted; and they continued this sublime kind of exercise, always rising, till they were mere points in the air, and the young ones were lost, and afterwards their parents, to our aching sight."

Not long since, a man in Connecticut shot an eagle of the largest kind.

The bird fell to the ground, and being only wounded, the man carried him home alive. He took good care of him, and he soon got quite well.

He became quite attached to the place where he was taken care of, and though he was permitted to go at large, and often flew away to a considerable distance, he would always come back again.

He used to take his station in the door-yard in the front of the house, and, if any well-dressed person came through the yard to the house, the eagle would sit still and make no objections; but if a ragged person came into the yard, he would fly at him, seize his clothes with one claw, hold on to the gra.s.s with the other, and thus make him prisoner.

Often was the proprietor of the house called upon to release persons that had been thus seized by the eagle. It is a curious fact that he never attacked ragged people going to the house the back way. It was only when they attempted to enter through the front door that he a.s.sailed them. He had some other curious habits; he did not go out every day to get breakfast, dinner, and supper; his custom was about once a week to make a hearty meal, and that was sufficient for six days. His most common food was the king-bird, of which he would catch sometimes ten in the course of a few hours, and these would suffice for his weekly repast.

THE OWL.

Of this numerous family, there are a great variety of species; but nearly all steal forth at night, preying upon such birds and quadrupeds as they can master. They are spread over the northern portions of both continents, and appear in all minds to be a.s.sociated with ideas of melancholy and gloom. The owl was anciently an emblem of wisdom; but we have no evidence that it possesses sagacity in any degree superior to that of any other member of the feathered family.

Mr. Nuttall gives us the following description of a red owl: "I took him out of a hollow apple-tree, and kept him several months. A dark closet was his favorite retreat during the day; in the evening he became very lively, gliding across the room with a side-long, restless flight, blowing with a hissing noise, stretching out his neck in a threatening manner, and snapping with his bill. He was a very expert mouse-catcher, swallowed his prey whole, and afterwards ejected the bones, skin, and hair, in round b.a.l.l.s. He also devoured large flies. He never showed any inclination to drink."

The little owl has a cry, when flying, like _p.o.o.poo_. Another note, which it utters sitting, appears so much like the human voice calling out, _Aime aime edme_, that it deceived one of Buffon's servants, who lodged in one of the old turrets of a castle; and waking him up at three o'clock in the morning with this singular cry, the man opened the window, and called out, "Who's there below? My name is not Edme, but Peter!"

A carpenter, pa.s.sing through a field near Gloucester, England, was attacked by a barn owl that had a nest of young ones in a tree near the path. The bird flew at his head; and the man, striking at it with a tool he had in his hand, missed his blow, upon which the owl repeated the attack, and, with her talons fastened on his face, tore out one of his eyes, and scratched him in the most shocking manner.

A gentleman in Yorks.h.i.+re, having observed the scales of fishes in the nest of a couple of barn owls that lived in the neighborhood of a lake, was induced, one moonlight night, to watch their motions, when he was surprised to see one of the old birds plunge into the water and seize a perch, which it bore to its young ones.

A party of Scottish Highlanders, in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, happened, in a winter journey, to encamp, after nightfall, in a dense clump of trees, whose dark tops and lofty stems, the growth of centuries, gave a solemnity to the scene that strongly tended to excite the superst.i.tious feelings of the Highlanders. The effect was heightened by the discovery of a tomb, which, with a natural taste often exhibited by the Indians, had been placed in this secluded spot.

Our travellers, having finished their supper, were tr.i.m.m.i.n.g their fire preparatory to retiring to rest, when the slow and dismal notes of the horned owl fell on the ear with a startling nearness. None of them being acquainted with the sound, they at once concluded that so unearthly a voice must be the moaning of the spirit of the departed, whose repose they supposed they had disturbed by inadvertently making a fire of some of the wood of which his tomb had been constructed. They pa.s.sed a tedious night of fear, and with the first dawn of day, hastily quitted the ill-omened spot.

Genghis Khan, who was founder of the empire of the Mogul Tartars, being defeated, and having taken shelter from his enemies, owed his preservation to a snowy owl, which was perched over the bush in which he was hid, in a small coppice. His pursuers, on seeing this bird, never thought it possible he could be near it. Genghis in consequence escaped, and ever afterwards this bird was held sacred by his countrymen, and every one wore a plume of its feathers on his head.

ORDER II.

Pa.s.sERINae.

This order derives its name from _pa.s.ser_, a sparrow; but the t.i.tle is not very appropriate, for it includes not sparrows only, but a variety of birds greatly differing from them. They have not the violence of birds of prey, nor are they restricted to a particular kind of food.

They feed mainly on insects, fruit, and grain.

THE SHRIKE, OR BUTCHER-BIRD.

One of these birds had once the boldness to attack two canaries belonging to a gentleman in Cambridge, Ma.s.s., which were suspended, one fine winter's day, at the window. The poor songsters, in their fear, fluttered to the side of the cage, and one of them thrust its head through the bars of its prison; at this moment the wily butcher tore off its head, and left the body dead in the cage. The cause of the accident seemed wholly mysterious, till, on the following day, the bold hunter was found to have entered the room with a view to despatch the remaining bird; and but for a timely interference, it would instantly have shared the fate of its companion.

This bird has been observed to adopt an odd stratagem. It sticks gra.s.shoppers upon the sharp, th.o.r.n.y branches of trees, for the purpose of decoying the smaller birds, that feed on insects, into a situation whence it could dart on them.

THE KING-BIRD.

Mr. Nuttall, who domesticated one of these birds, gives us the following account: "His taciturnity, and disinclination to familiarities, were striking traits. His restless, quick, and side-glancing eye enabled him to follow the motions of his insect prey, and to know the precise moment of attack. The snapping of his bill, as he darted after them, was like the shutting of a watch-case. He readily caught morsels of food in his bill. Berries he swallowed whole. Large gra.s.shoppers and beetles he pounded and broke on the floor. Some very cold nights, he had the sagacity to retire under the shelter of a depending bed-quilt. He was pleased with the light of lamps, and would eat freely at any hour of the night."

THE CEDAR-BIRD.

This beautiful member of the feathered family flies in flocks, and makes himself familiar with the cherry trees when their fruit is ripe.

Though his habits are timid and somewhat shy, he appears to possess an affectionate disposition. Mr. Nuttall tells us that one among a row of these birds, seated one day upon a branch, was observed to catch an insect, and offer it to his a.s.sociate, who very disinterestedly pa.s.sed it to the next, and, each delicately declining the offer, the morsel proceeded backwards and forwards many times before it was appropriated.

THE SCARLET TANAGER.

Wilson gives us the following interesting anecdote of one of these birds: "Pa.s.sing through an orchard one morning, I caught a young tanager that had apparently just left the nest. I carried it with me to the Botanic Garden, put it in a cage, and hung it on a large pine-tree near the nest of two orioles, hoping that their tenderness might induce them to feed the young bird. But the poor orphan was neglected, till at last a tanager, probably its own parent, was seen fluttering round the cage, and endeavoring to get in. Finding this impracticable, it flew off, and soon returned with food in its bill, feeding the young one till sunset: it then took up its lodgings on the higher branches of the same tree. In the morning, as soon as day broke, he was again seen most actively engaged; and so he continued for three or four days. He then appeared extremely solicitous for the liberation of his charge, using every expression of anxiety, and every call and invitation that nature had put in his power, for him to come out. Unable to resist this powerful pleader, I opened the cage, took out the prisoner, and restored it to its parent, who, with notes of great exultation, accompanied its flight to the woods."

THE MOCKING-BIRD.

The mocking-bird selects the place for his nest according to the region in which he resides. A solitary thorn bush, an almost impenetrable thicket, an orange or cedar-tree, or a holly bush, are favorite spots; and sometimes he will select a low apple or pear-tree. The nest is composed of dry twigs, straw, wool, and tow, and lined with fine fibrous roots. During the time when the female is sitting, neither cat, dog, animal, or man, can approach the nest without being attacked.

But the chief vengeance of the bird is directed against his mortal enemy, the black snake. Whenever this reptile is discovered, the male darts upon it with the rapidity of an arrow, dexterously eluding its bite, and striking it violently and incessantly upon the head. The snake soon seeks to escape; but the intrepid bird redoubles his exertions; and as the serpent's strength begins to flag, he seizes it, and lifts it up from the ground, beating it with his wings; and when the business is completed, he returns to his nest, mounts the summit of the bush, and pours out a torrent of song, in token of victory.

His strong, musical voice is capable of every modulation. His matin notes are bold and full, consisting of short expressions of two, three, or five and six syllables, generally interspersed with imitations, all of them uttered with great emphasis and rapidity. His expanded wings, and tail glistening with white, and the buoyant gayety of his action, arrest the eye as his song does the ear.

The mocking-bird loses little of the power and energy of his music by confinement. When he commences his career of song, it is impossible to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; Caesar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about with hanging wings and bristling feathers, clucking to protect her injured brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking of the pa.s.sing wheelbarrow, follow with great truth and rapidity. He repeats the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable length, fully and faithfully. He runs over the quiverings of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the red-bird, with such superior execution and effect, that the mortified songsters feel their own inferiority, while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions.

THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE.

A correspondent of Wilson furnishes the following account of an oriole: "This bird I took from the nest when very young. I taught it to feed from my mouth; and it would often alight on my finger, and strike the end with its bill, until I raised it to my mouth, when it would insert its bill, to see what I had for it to eat. In winter, spring, and autumn, it slept in a cage lined with cotton batting. After I had put it in, if I did not close up the apertures with cotton, it would do so itself, by pulling the cotton from the sides of the cage till it had shut up all the apertures; I fed it with sponge cake; and when this became dry and hard, it would take a piece and drop it into the saucer, and move it about till it was soft enough to be eaten.

"In very cold weather, the oriole would fly to me, and get under my cape, and nestle down upon my neck. It often perched upon my finger, and drew my needle and thread from me when I was sewing. At such times, if any child approached me and pulled my dress, it would chase after the offender, with its wings and tail spread, and high resentment in its eye. In sickness, when I have been confined to the bed, the little pet would visit my pillow many times during the day, often creeping under the bed-clothes. At such times, it was always low-spirited. When it wanted to bathe, it would approach me with a very expressive look, and shake its wings. On my return home from a call or visit, it would invariably show its pleasure by a peculiar sound."

THE WREN.

Wilson furnishes us with the following anecdotes of this little favorite:--

"In the month of June, a mower once hung up his coat under a shed in the barn: two or three days elapsed before he had occasion to put it on again. When he did so, on thrusting his arm into the sleeve, he found it completely filled with rubbish, as he expressed it, and, on extracting the whole ma.s.s, found it to be the nest of a wren, completely finished, and lined with a large quant.i.ty of feathers. In his retreat he was followed by the forlorn little proprietors, who scolded him with great vehemence for thus ruining the whole economy of their household affairs."

"A box fitted up in the window of a room where I slept, was taken possession of by a pair of wrens. Already the nest was built, and two eggs laid; when one day, the window being open as well as the room door, the female wren, venturing too far into the room, was sprung upon by grimalkin, and instantly destroyed. Curious to know how the survivor would demean himself, I watched him carefully for several days. At first he sang with great vivacity for an hour or so; but, becoming uneasy, went off for half an hour. On his return, he chanted again as before, went to the top of the house, stable, and weeping willow, that his mate might hear him; but seeing no appearance of her, he returned once more, visited the nest, ventured cautiously into the window, gazed about with suspicious looks, his voice sinking into a low, melancholy note, as he stretched his neck in every direction.

"Returning to the box, he seemed for some minutes at a loss what to do, and soon went off, as I thought altogether, for I saw no more of him that day. Towards the afternoon of the second day, he again made his appearance, accompanied with a new female, who seemed exceedingly timorous and shy, and after great hesitation entered the box. At this moment, the little widower and bridegroom seemed as if he would warble out his very life with ecstasy of joy. After remaining about half a minute inside, they began to carry out the eggs, feathers, and some of the sticks, supplying the place of the two latter with materials of the same sort, and ultimately succeeded in raising a brood of seven young ones, all of whom escaped in safety."

THE PURPLE MARTIN.