How sweet the first sound of the Cuckoo's note!
Whence is the magic pleasure of the sound?
How do we long recal the very tree

Or bush near which we stood, when on the air

The unexpected note, Cuckoo, again,

And yet again, came down the budding vale!
It is the voice of spring among the trees;
It tells of lengthening days, of coming blooms;
It is the symphony of many a song.

GRAHAME.

HE great charm of the Cuckoo's monotonous cry lies in its associations; in itself it is not melodious, although, as Lisle Bowles avers, it may be strictly harmonious. He tells us that it is in exact accordance with the diatonic scale, of which the two notes composing the cry are the fifth and third. It therefore presents no discord to the ear; nor would it, we believe, if it were not so accordant with musical notation, because it generally comes to us mellowed by distance, and brings to the mind a flood of recollected and

anticipated pleasures, like those described in the above lines by Grahame, as well as in the writings of many other poets, to some of whom we shall refer in the course of our observations upon the natural history of this bird.

The Cuckoos belong to the group of Scansores, or climbing birds, the general disposition of whose toes, like those of the Woodpeckers, is in pairs, directed two backwards and two forwards. The Cuculine family of this group present, in its various members, considerable diversities of form, but generally their characteristics are well defined. They have slender bills, broad at the base, and somewhat compressed at the sides, slightly curved, the lower mandible following the curve of the upper; short legs, feathered to the toes, which are arranged, as before stated, in pairs; tail rather long, always more or less wedge-shaped; plumage firm and thickly set, in most species rather sombre, but in a few of the African kinds remarkable for brilliancy.

None of the Cuckoos are found in other than warm climates: two only are known to resort to Europe, and they only show themselves there in the warm season. Of these two, THE GREY CUCKOO (Cuculus canorus) is the most common. It is one of the most elegantly formed and agreeably tinted of our native birds; its well-known cry, making us aware of its arrival, is generally first heard about the middle of April.

The Cuckoo is a gentle bird, and gentle is his note;

And April it is pleasant, when the sun is waxing hot;

For amid the green woods growing, and the fresh flowers' blooming throng,

In comes the gentle Cuckoo, with his meek and modest song. The Woodcock comes, and, with the Swan, brings winter on his wing;

The groves cast off their garments green, the small birds cease to sing;

The small birds cease to sing, till the lilies scent the earth;
But the Cuckoo scatters roses round wherever he goes forth.

This song in honour of the Cuckoo, which is eminently

REPUTED VAIN AND FOOLISH.

189

a poet's bird, has been sung by Jennings, in his 'Ornitho-
logia.' But a more matter-of-fact naturalist would probably
tell us that the term 'gentle' applied to it is quite a mis-
nomer; he being, in fact, a fierce pugnacious fellow, addicted
to many
discreditable proceedings. He is, say some, a rob-
ber, a polygamist, one who preys upon the weak and defence-
less, and sets at defiance all moral and legal enactments
made and provided for the better ordering of bird-society;
they tell us, too, that he is a proud conceited coxcomb, for
ever talking of himself, and that he shuns society because
there is no one who can appreciate his merits; witness the
lines of the German fabulist, Gehert:

One day a Cuckoo, in his flight up and down,
Fell in with a Starling escaped from the town:
'Pray what is the talk?' he began, with an air,
'Pray how do they speak of our songs in the city?
Pray what do they think of the Nightingale there?'
'The whole of the town is in love with her ditty!'
'And pray what remark do they make on the Lark?'
'She's high in renown with the half of the town.'
'Indeed! Well, and as to the Blackbird?'-'He, too,
'Is eulogised much, here and there, by a few.'
Well, now I've to add that I'd feel very glad
If you'd tell me the various opinions that go forth
Respecting myself and my merits, and so forth.'
'Why, that,' said the Starling, 'I hardly can do,
For scarcely a soul ever talks about you.'

'Base ingrates! Well, then, as they grant me no praise,
I'll trumpet myself to the end of my days.'

So saying, away to the forest he flew,

And ever since then has been crying cuckoo !

They likewise affirm that he is a fool, whose brain is too shallow to keep a secret, and whose tongue is ever giving utterance to senseless nothings:

Empty sounds and iterations,

Very trying to one's patience.

But you, reader, and ourselves, and many of the poets whom we shall presently quote, know better than this. We would ask these maligners, why he should not blazon abroad

190

HUNTING THE GOWK.

the pleasing intelligence that azure skies, fragrant flowers, and balmy zephyrs are preparing to visit us. To those dull souls his notes are meaningless; but to us they are full of meaning, fraught with hope and bright anticipations, and vivifying memories of youth and its delights.

Why art thou always welcome, lonely bird?

asks James Montgomery; and the bird's imagined answer is a true echo of the feelings which dictated the question:The heart grows young again when I am heard.

Not in the double note the magic lies,

But in the fields, the woods, the streams, the skies.

We grieve to say that the generality of mankind have so far fallen into those opinions adverse to the Cuckoo as to fancy they recognise the appropriateness of the term 'gowk,' applied to the bird in Scotland and some parts of England. This term, as well as 'gock' or 'geck,' was used by some of our early writers to express either a fool or a cuckoo. Hence, in reference to the silly custom of sending people on false errands, or otherwise deceiving them, on the first of April, which was called 'hunting the gowk,' the old couplet runs:On the first of Aprile

Hunt the gowk another mile.

The common Cuckoo is about the size of the Turtle-dove -that is, fourteen inches in length, the tail measuring seven inches: the bill is about an inch long. The general colour of the plumage is dark ashy grey above, and white beneath, with grey undulating lines across; the pinion feathers are dark brown, with white spots on the upper web, and the tail feathers are black, with oval white spots; a beautiful iridescent reflection plays over the darker parts, such as the head, throat, back, &c. The effect of these combinations of sober tints is extremely pleasing; and the long slender form and gliding motion of the bird, so perfectly easy and graceful, contribute to the agreeable impression which

THE MYSTERIOUS VISITANT.

191

it makes upon the beholder. More frequently, however, is this mysterious visitant,' as the bird has been called, heard than seen. Gliding about along the hedgerows, and by the skirts of the leafy woods and copses, more often in shadow than in sunshine, it escapes the notice of any but a watchful and keen-sighted observer. Well might Wordsworth exclaim,

O Cuckoo shall I call thee bird,

Or but a wandering voice?

for the dreamy utterance of its cry, brokenly floating up from the wooded hollow near at hand, or coming from afar upon the sultry summer air, sounds more like the voice of a spirit than of a bird. If we attempt to follow the sound to the spot from whence it emanates, we shall probably hear it, as though in mockery, coming from some quite opposite direction.

The best account of this 'mysterious visitant' which we have met with is that given by Macgillivray, and we therefore quote a considerable portion of it: :

The Cuckoo arrives in the south of England about April 20, in the south of Scotland towards the end of that month, and in the northernmost parts of Britain soon after the beginning of May. The periods of arrival, however, vary considerably, according to the character of the season; and as the birds do not always announce their return by emitting their well-known cry, they may sometimes be met with at a time when their presence is not suspected. There seems to be hardly any part of the country which they do not visit; for while some remain in the southern counties, others settle in the remotest islands of the north, and although they are met with in the most cultivated districts, they also frequent the valleys of the wildest of our hilly and mountainous tracts. Perhaps the most favourite resorts of the species are parks and plantations bordered with fields and pasture-grounds, or the woods and thickets of the upland glens; but on the rocky hills of the most treeless regions, and the bleak moors or ferny braes of the interior, it is found often in great numbers although never in flocks, for if