Essays in Natural History and Agriculture Part 7

Mercer, as he left Bombay for England shortly after. His fear was that none of this cotton would be gathered, as the disturbances which took place in Central India, and which required so long a time to quell them, were in this very district. If your correspondent G. F. R. has got samples of this improved cotton, of the second or third generation, he would confer a great obligation upon me by sending me a small sample of it by post. But this is wandering from what I intended to say, which was most heartily to thank your correspondent for his second communication, which goes far to prove the truth of what I had previously supposed, that the cotton of India is capable of great improvement by being judiciously crossed with suitable foreign varieties. Your correspondent thinks if the old varieties deteriorate the new when growing in proximity to each other, the new ought, for the same reason, to improve the old; and no doubt they will, but to a much smaller extent. It is said that a man leaping up into the air attracts the earth (proportionately) as much as the earth attracts him, and it may be so with the old and new cotton. What I mean to say is, that although some of the old sort of cotton might be hybridized by the new, the improved variety would be in so small a quant.i.ty that a thousand to one the cultivator would never observe it; and such is the aversion or indifference to anything new among the natives of India, that if an improved plant were observed, it is again a thousand to one he would take no pains to preserve it; and if he did, it is again perhaps a thousand to one that it would be entirely spoilt in the next generation by being planted among the indigenous sorts.

I trust your correspondent will continue to favour us with his communications whenever he has any fresh information on the subject, which, the more it is considered the more important it seems to be.

PAPERS ON NATURAL HISTORY.

WRENS' NESTS.

THE Editor of Loudon's "Magazine of Natural History," and one of his contributors, Mr. Jennings, were of opinion that the common Wren never lined its nest with feathers. The following contribution was sent to the "Magazine of Natural History" in consequence of this, and led to some discussion afterwards:--

_April 17th_, 1829.

Mr. Jennings and yourself, in opposition to Montagu, are of opinion that the Wren never lines its nest with feathers; like the knights of the gold-and-silver shield, both sides are right. It is true, many Wrens' nests may be found in which there are no feathers; but did you ever find either eggs or young ones in them?

As far as my observations go, the nest in which the Wren lays its eggs is profusely lined with feathers; but during the period of incubation, the male--apparently from a desire to be doing something--constructs several nests in the vicinity of the first, none of which are lined; and whilst the first nest is so artfully concealed as to be found with difficulty, the last is very often seen. The Wren does not appear to be very careful in the selection of a site for these c.o.c.k-nests, as they are called in Yorkshire by the schoolboys. I have frequently seen them in the twigs of a thick thorn hedge, under banks, in haystacks, in ivy bushes, in old stumps, in the loopholes of buildings, and in one instance in an old bonnet, which was placed among some peas to frighten away the blackcaps.

_August 15th_, 1831.

TO PROFESSOR RENNIE.

In your edition of Montagu's "Ornithological Dictionary," just published, you say--speaking of the Wren--"An anonymous correspondent of Loudon's 'Magazine of Natural History,' &c. &c.;"

and you remark, "There can be no doubt of these supposed 'c.o.c.k- nests' being nothing more than unfinished structures of paired birds; otherwise, the story would require the support of very strong evidence to render it credible."

As I am the anonymous correspondent alluded to, I forward you a few observations of facts tending, as I think, to confirm my view of the question.

In the first place, these nests are far too abundant for the birds, which are not plentiful--at least, in this neighbourhood.

Again, it is at least five to one that any Wren's nest which is found during the summer without a lining of hair or feathers is ever completed, or has any eggs in it. This I have verified in a hundred instances, when, having found Wrens' nests, I have visited them again at intervals, for the purpose of ascertaining whether my opinion of c.o.c.k-nests was correct.

Farther, in a small wood adjoining my garden, where I was certain there was only one pair of Wrens, I found at least half-a-dozen nests, not one of which was either lined with feathers or ever had eggs in it; although I discovered they were not all deserted, as I found an old bird roosting in one of them. I was induced to be more particular in my remarks in consequence of my seeing Mr.

Jennings's remarks in the "Magazine of Natural History;" and I searched, as I supposed, every bank, bush, and stump in the wood two or three times before I could find the breeding-nest, which I at last discovered in the twigs of a willow on the bank of the river, in the centre of a bunch of tangled gra.s.s, cotton waste, and straws which had been left there by the floods, and which the bird had apparently excavated and in it formed its nest, which was profusely lined with rooks' feathers.

The fear of being thought tedious prevents my giving other facts which tend, as I think, to prove the correctness of my opinion; however, I will just add that all the persons with whom I have conversed who take an interest in such pursuits, agree with me in opinion in this matter.

The nest I have just spoken of was also a strong proof that Wrens, although they may not always adapt their materials to the locality they have chosen for a nest, frequently do so; and if this is not with the intention of concealing it, but merely because the materials are at hand, it serves the purpose of concealment also, and very effectually. The one I am speaking of was so exactly like the other lumps of rubbish which had been left by the floods in the same bush, that I did not discover that it was a Wren's nest until I had pulled it out of the twigs; and if a Wren builds its nest in a haystack--which it frequently does--the front of the nest is almost invariably composed of the hay from the stack, which prevents its being seen much more effectually than if the moss of which the body of the nest is composed were visible on the outside.

The fact that the long-tailed t.i.ts occasionally a.s.sociate to the number of six or seven, and have a nest in common, which is mentioned in the same page of the "Magazine of Natural History" as the Wrens' nests, I could prove by the testimony of twenty people who saw the nest and young there spoken of. I should be glad to learn whether the same thing has been noticed by other people.

Among the few rare birds which it has been my good fortune to procure is a Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, which I killed this summer, and which is not mentioned in your edition of Montagu, although spoken of by Bewick as a dubious species, under the name of the Middle Spotted Woodp.e.c.k.e.r.

A pair of these birds had built their nest, or rather hatched their young (for there was no nest), in a hole in a decayed ash tree about twenty feet from the ground. There were two young ones, which I secured, as well as one of the old ones, and they are all in the possession of a professional friend of mine, who is a collector of ornithological specimens.

The old one measures 9 1/2 inches long, and weighed 46 1/2 dwts.

an hour after it was killed. The forehead is a dirty buff, the whole crown of the head a bright crimson; the irides a dark lead colour, and it has a white ring round its neck. In other respects it corresponds with your description of the _Picus major_. The s.e.x was not ascertained. The young ones have also the bright crimson head, and differ very materially from the old one.

The Chevy Linnet, as the lesser Redpole is called, is found here throughout the year, and is at no time a scarce bird with us. It frequently builds its nest in the alder and willow bushes, on the banks of the brooks or rivers. It is a late breeder, the nests being often met with containing eggs or young in July. In the winter it feeds upon the seeds of the alder or the cones of the larch, hanging suspended from the twigs like the t.i.tmouse.

We have also the Gray Wagtail (_Motacilla sulphurea_) with us the whole year, but it is rather a rare bird at all times and in all localities with which I am acquainted. (1853:--It is more plentiful now than it was in 1831.)

I very strongly suspect Selby is mistaken when he says, "that previous to its departure in September, it a.s.sembles in small flocks or families, which haunt the meadows or bare pastures."

This does not agree with my observations of this bird, although quite true when applied to the Spring Wagtail (_Motacilla flava_); on the contrary, the Grey Wagtail is solitary throughout the year, except in the breeding season, and never frequents the meadows, but is found in the beds of the rivers, brooks, or ditches, where its shrill note often betrays it to eyes which would otherwise never see it.

This bird may be easily distinguished from the Spring Wagtail by its note when flying--yet, notwithstanding the difference is very apparent to a person who hears them both, it is not so easily described. In attempting to do so, therefore, I hope I shall be excused if I don't make the difference so apparent in the description as it is in reality. The latter part of the note of the Grey Wagtail when flying is higher in the musical scale than the former part, and is very staccato, thus: [BAR OF MUSIC]

generally being uttered as the bird makes a spring in the air, [10]

whilst the latter part of the note of the summer-bird is lower in the scale than the former part, which is more prolonged than in the note of the Grey Wagtail, and is slurred into the latter part, something in the following manner: [BAR OF MUSIC] Of course I don't mean it to be understood that these notes are either of the same pitch, or that they bear the same relation to each other that the notes of the bird do, but as a rude attempt at ill.u.s.trating what I could not explain in any other way.

A singular habit which I have noticed in several individuals of this species (_M. sulphurea_) has amused me exceedingly. They were in the habit of looking at their own images in the windows and attacking them, uttering their peculiar cry, and pecking and fluttering against the gla.s.s as earnestly as if the object they saw was a real rival instead of an imaginary one (a friend who observed it, insisted that, Narcissus-like, it was in an ecstasy of self-admiration). What is more remarkable, two of these instances occurred in the autumn, when one would not suppose the same motives for animosity to exist that would probably actuate them in the spring.

The first of these instances was when I was a boy, and was repeated daily for several weeks, both against the windows of my father's house and those of our neighbour, who, being rather superst.i.tious, was alarmed about it, and came to consult my mother on the subject. She said there was a bird which her brother told her was a barley-bird (_Motacilla flava_), which was continually flying against her windows, and as birds were not in the habit of doing so generally, she thought something serious was portended by it. My mother comforted her as well as she could, and I undertook to rid her of the annoyance, which I did by setting a horsehair- noose on one of the window-ledges which it frequented. I soon caught it, and by plucking out the under-tail coverts, with which I wanted to dress _yellow duns_, I effectually cured it of the propensity--whether, Narcissus-like, it was in an ecstasy of self- admiration, or like the c.o.c.k which attacked its own image in the boot (which Mr. Robert Warren's poet and painter have immortalized), it would admit of no rival.

It has been suggested, and I think with great probability, that the bird was merely attempting to catch the flies which it saw on the inside of the panes of gla.s.s; but certainly it was not so silent about it as these birds generally are when they are feeding.

THE LONG-TAILED t.i.tMOUSE.

To the Editor of "Loudon's Magazine."

Some years ago, when my brother and myself were seekers of birds'

nests, we found one of the Long-tailed t.i.tmouse (_Parus caudatus_), about two miles from home, containing young ones half- fledged. Being anxious to rear them, we hit upon the plan of catching the old ones, and giving them the trouble instead of ourselves. We accordingly set lime-twigs near the nest, and caught six old ones out of the seven of which the colony consisted, and brought them away in triumph; but the old ones would not eat in confinement, and all died but one, which we allowed to escape, in the hope that it would come back and rear the young ones. This it did, and by the most unwearied exertion reared the whole brood, sometimes feeding them ten times in a minute.

Never having seen this social habit stated in any ornithological work to which I have access, I am not aware that it is generally known to naturalists; but it is right to state that I have only found one nest of the species since, and this my avocations would not permit me to examine. I am therefore not aware whether the fact I have stated was an exception to the general habit of the bird, or whether such is invariably the case. Some of your correspondents will, no doubt, be able to give an answer to this inquiry.

IDENt.i.tY OF THE GREEN WITH THE WOOD-SANDPIPER.

To the Editor of the "Magazine of Natural History."

The question whether the Green and the Wood-Sandpiper are the same species seems from Rennie's edition of Montagu's "Ornithological Dictionary" to be undecided; but as a specimen has just come under my notice which appears to me to clear up this difficulty, I shall offer no apology for sending a description of it.

The length from the bill to the tail is 10 inches, to the end of the toes, 11 3/4 inches; breadth, 17 inches; thigh-joint to the toe, 5 1/2 inches. The bill measures 1 5/8 inches from the corner of the mouth, and is very slender; the upper mandible, which is black and slightly curved at the point, is a little longer than the lower one, which is a dark green at the base and black at the point; a dark streak extends from the base of the upper mandible to the corner of the eye, and above it is a patch of dirty white intermixed with minute dusky spots; a small circle of dirty white surrounds the eyes; the chin is white; the cheeks, throat, and forepart of the neck white, spotted with dusky, with which colour a few laminae of each feather are marked their whole length. The breast has a dappled stripe of the same colour as the throat running down the middle of it; with this exception it is white, as are also the belly, vent, and under tail-coverts. The crown of the head and hinder part of the neck are a dingy brown, which on the neck has a shade of ash colour; the bend of the wing and lesser wing-coverts are a brownish black; the whole upper surface of the plumage is of a glossy brownish-green, which is spotted on the middle wing-coverts with minute white spots, that change to a dingy yellow on the back, scapulars, and tertials, the last of which have twelve spots on the outer margin of the feathers, and six on the inner one; the tertials are very long, the longest of them reaching to within a quarter of an inch of the extreme top of the wing, which reaches to the end of the tail; the quill feathers are wholly black, as are also the secondaries; the upper part of the rump is black, and each feather is slightly tipped with white, which forms small wavy lines on that part of the plumage; the lower part of the rump and upper tail-coverts are pure white; the tail, which is even at the end, consists of twelve feathers, which are barred with black and white alternately.

At the end of Bewick's description of the Green Sandpiper there is a very exact representation of a covert feather of the tail, and an inner-wing covert, which will give a better idea of their appearance than a page of letterpress. The legs are dark green, the outer toe connected with the middle one by a membrane as far as the first joint; toes very slender, middle one 1 1/4 inch long; weight, 2 3/4 oz. Killed on the 17th September, 1831, near Stonyhurst.

I have been thus minute in my description from a wish to clear up the doubt that appears to exist as to the ident.i.ty of these two birds. The one I have now before me is, undoubtedly, the Green Sandpiper of Bewick, but it corresponds in so many particulars with the Wood Sandpiper of Montagu, and appears to combine so many of the peculiarities of both without exactly agreeing with either, that I think it proves their ident.i.ty satisfactorily. The glossy green of the upper plumage and the barring of the under wing- coverts and the tail identify this bird with the Green Sandpiper; whilst on the other side the yellowish spots on the scapulars and tertials, the black rump, the length of the leg, and the web between the outer and middle toes are characteristic of the Wood Sandpiper of Montagu.

THE STOAT.

I. M. (in the "Magazine of Natural History") says that the Stoat is more timid than the weasel, and that it does not change its colour as in the more northern parts of the world. I know not why he calls it timid, even relatively, as I think it is the most fearless wild animal we have in the kingdom, in proof of which I will mention an incident I witnessed myself. I one day saw a Stoat carrying off a large rat it had killed, and I immediately pursued it, but it stuck so tenaciously to its prey (although it was so enc.u.mbered with its load as to be scarcely able to run at all) that I was close upon it before it would abandon it; however, it then took refuge in a wall that happened to be close by. I took up the rat, and the Stoat put its head out of the wall, spitting and chattering with every appearance of the most lively indignation against me for having so unjustly robbed it of a lawful prize. I amused myself with watching it for some time, and then being desirous of seeing how far its evident desire to recapture its booty would overcome its fear of me, I held the rat just before the hole in which it was, when after several attempts, in which its discretion got the better of its valour, it at length screwed up its courage to the sticking-place, came boldly out of the wall, and dragged it out of my hand into the hole.

I know not in what county I. M. lives, nor do I know whether he means to include any part of England in the more northern parts of the world, but I do know that the Stoat is white in the winter in Yorkshire, as I have caught and still more frequently seen specimens of this colour.