wings, as if to be convinced that the business was properly done, and then dropped into the nest again. With these (the extremities of the wings) I have often seen it examine, as it were, an egg or nestling before it began its operations; and the nice sensibility which these birds appear to possess seems sufficiently to compensate the want of sight, which as yet it was destitute of. (When first hatched, and for some days afterwards, the young Cuckoos are blind.)

It is wonderful to see the extraordinary exertions of the young Cuckoo when it is only two or three days old, if a bird be put into the nest with it that is too weighty for it to lift out. In this state it seems ever restless and uneasy. But this disposition for turning out its companions begins to decline from the time it is two or three, till it is about twelve days old, when, as far as I have hitherto seen, it ceases.'

It has been stated that there is a peculiar depression on the back of the young Cuckoo when hatched; this seems specially intended to enable the bird to shovel up, as it were, the egg or nestling which it chooses to eject. Of the devotion of the foster parents to the ungainly chick thrust upon them numerous instances are recorded; here is one by Jesse:

I had an opportunity of witnessing the case of a young Cuckoo which was hatched in the nest of a Water Wagtail, who had built in some ivy on a wall close to my house. It required the united efforts of both the old birds from morning to night to satisfy his hunger, and I never saw birds more indefatigable than they were. When the young Cuckoo had nearly arrived at his full size,'he appeared on the nest of the Water Wagtail, 'like a giant in a cock-boat.' Just before he could fly he was put in a cage, in which situation the old birds continued to feed him, till by some accident he made his escape, and remained in a high elm-tree near the house. Here the Water Wagtails were observed to feed him with the same assiduity for at least a fortnight afterwards. This Cuckoo was very pugnacious, and would strike with its wings and open its mouth in great anger, whenever I put my hand near him.

The earliest mention made of the Cuckoo is in the Bible,

and there it occurs in the list of unclean birds, which the
children of Israel were forbidden to eat (see Leviticus
ii. 16).
But Bochart and other commentators, among
whom is Dr. A. Clarke, believe this to be an erroneous
translation, and consider that the Seamew or Gull, and not
the Cuckoo, is the bird meant. Aristotle is the first of the
profane writers that we know of who makes any allusion to
the Cuckoo, and a great many ill-natured things he says of
it; among others, to account for its assumed rapacity and
greediness, he makes out the poor bird to be nothing else
than a transformed Sparrow-hawk. Pliny afterwards, in
his Historia Naturalis, reprints most of the old Stagyrite's
slanders, with many uncomplimentary additions of his own,
and even Buffon believes and perpetuates some of the
absurd stories handed down by the ancients. That the
Cuckoo does occasionally feed upon the eggs of other birds
there is little reason to doubt, although M. Montbeillard,
who instituted some interesting experiments to elucidate
this point, declares that it does not,—

No fledgelings gobbled he, no eggs he brake,
Upon their dainty yolks a feast to make.

'Give a dog a bad name and hang him,' says the proverb; the Cuckoo has long laboured under the disadvantage of an evil reputation, which it does not altogether deserve. Although it unquestionably has some faults and bad qualities, over these we would rather throw a veil, and say all the good we can of a bird whom the poets generally have delighted to honour. We might cite a host of them to prove this, but must be content with one, in addition to those already quoted, and this shall be Wordsworth, who addresses the bird thus:

O, blithe new comer! I have heard,

I hear thee, and rejoice.

O, Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice?

YELLOW-BILLED COWCOW.

While I am lying on the grass,

Thy twofold shout I hear,

That seems to fill the air's whole space,
As loud far off as near.

Though babbling only to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the spring!
Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice, a mystery.

The same whom in my school-boy days
I listened to; that cry

Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee often did I rove

Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love
Still longed for, never seen.

And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain,
And listen till I do beget
That golden time again.

O, blessed bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be

An unsubstantial, fairy place,

That is fit home for thee!

199

THE YELLOW-BILLED Cowcow (Coccyzus Americanus), sometimes called the Carolina Cuckoo, Cow-bird, or Rain Crow. This is an elegantly formed, but plainly coloured, species of the Cuculine family; the plumage of the upper parts is light greenish brown, the head tinged with grey, the lower parts silvery white, the tail feathers brownish black, tipped with white. The length of the bird is about. twelve inches and a half. It is a rare straggler in Britain, but widely distributed over the United States of America, occurring from Texas to Nova Scotia. It is described by Audubon as 'moving with a rapid and silent flight from

one place to another, and wending its way with ease among the branches, occasionally inclining its body to either side. When migrating southward it flies high in loose flocks, but arrives singly in spring, the males preceding the females. Its notes resemble the word cow repeated eight or ten times, whence its name of Cowcow, or Cow-bird. It feeds on insects and larvæ, occasionally an egg, if small, and in its turn often falls a prey to the Pigeon-hawk. Berries of many kinds, as well as grasses, afford an abundant supply of food in the autumn. On the ground, this bird is extremely awkward at walking, and moves in an ambling manner, or leaps along sideways, owing to the shortness of its legs. It makes a flat nest of sticks and grass, and places it on a horizontal branch, often not far from the ground. The eggs are four or five in number, of a bright green colour.

THE WRYNECK (Yunx Torquilla), sometimes called Emmet-hunter, Long-tongue, Cuckoo's Maid, or Mate, Barley Snake, or Turkey Bird. This beautiful little bird with many names seems to hold an intermediate place between the Woodpeckers and the Cuckoos, although in its habits, and the structure of the tongue, which is long, slender, and armed with a horny point, it is most nearly allied to the former, like which it is migratory, and generally preceding it in its arrival by a few days, has come to be considered as the forerunner, or attendant of the Cuckoo; hence the name Cuckoo's Maid, or Mate, often applied to it.

We have many showier, but no more elegant bird than this. Although the plumage consists of sober and subdued tints, black, brown, and grey, of various shades, it is so elaborately mottled and pencilled all over, that the effect is strikingly beautiful; the shape of the bird, too, is remarkably elegant; its length is about six inches and threequarters, extent of wings eleven inches.

From the middle to the end of April is the time when the Wryneck may be looked for in the English woods, within the shadow of which it keeps pretty close, and as it is in no locality at all numerous, it is by no means a wellknown bird with us, although called Cuckoo's Maid, or Mate, or as the Welch say, Gwas y gog, Cuckoo's attendant, from the circumstance of the two species arriving and departing at about the same time. There is no congeniality or similarity between them, nor are they ever seen in company. The Wryneck is, in fact, a very solitary bird, keeping company with its own mate even but for a limited period of its stay in this country. Besides thick woods, it may be found in copses, plantations, orchards, and fields enclosed by hedges; it feeds on caterpillars and other insects, and is particularly fond of emmets. Montagu says: -'We were enabled to examine the manners of this bird minutely, by taking a female from the nest, and confining her in a cage for some days. A quantity of mould, with emmets and their eggs, was given to it; and it was curious to observe the tongue darted forward, and retracted with such velocity, and with such unerring aim, that it never returned without an ant or an egg adhering to it, not transfixed by the horny point, as some have imagined, but retained by a peculiar tenacious moisture, by nature provided for that purpose. While it is feeding, the body is motionless, the head only is turned to every side, and the motion of the tongue is so rapid, that an ant's egg, which is of a light colour, and more conspicuous than the tongue, has somewhat the appearance of moving towards the mouth by attraction, as a needle flies to the magnet. The bill is rarely used, except to remove the mould in order to get more readily at these insects. Where the earth is hollow, the tongue is thrust into all the cavities to rouse the ants; for this purpose the horny appendage is extremely serviceable as a guard to the tongue. We have