The Young Voyageurs Part 12

"There are," said he, "more than two dozen species of ducks on the waters of North America. These the systematists have divided into no less than _eighteen genera_! Why it would be more easy to learn all that ever was known about all the ducks in creation, than to remember the eighteen generic names which these gentlemen have invented and put forward. Moreover, the habits of any two species of these ducks are more similar than those of any two kinds of dogs. Why then, I should ask--why this complication? It is true that the ducks do not resemble each other in every thing. Some species are fonder of water than others. Some feed entirely upon vegetable substances; others upon small fish, insects, crustacea, etcetera. Some live entirely in the sea; others make their home in the freshwater lakes and rivers, while many species dwell indifferently, either in salt or fresh waters. Some love the open wave; others the sedgy marsh; while one or two species roost upon trees, and build their nests in the hollow trunks. Notwithstanding all this, there is such a similarity in the appearance and habits of the different species, that I think the systematists have improved but little, if anything, upon the simple arrangement of the true naturalist Wilson, who--poor Scotch _emigre_ as he was, with an empty purse and a loaded gun--has collected more original information about the birds of America than all that have followed him. He described the ducks of America under the single genus _Anas_; and, in my opinion, described them in a more intelligent and intelligible manner than any one has done since his time--not even excepting another great and true naturalist, whose career has been longer, more successful, and happier; and whose fame, in consequence of his better fortune, has become, perhaps, higher and more extended.

"The water-fowl of America," continued Lucien--"I mean the swans, geese, and ducks, are of great importance in the fur countries where we are now travelling. At certain seasons of the year, in many parts, they furnish almost the only article of food that can be procured. They are all migratory--that is, when the lakes and rivers of these regions become frozen over in the winter they all migrate southward, but return again to breed and spend the summer. They do this, perhaps, because these wild territories afford them a better security during the season of incubation, and afterwards of moulting. It is not very certain, however, that this is the reason, and for my part I am inclined to think not, for there are also wild, uninhabited territories enough in southern lat.i.tudes, and yet they forsake these and migrate north in the spring.

`Their arrival in the fur countries,' writes a distinguished naturalist, `marks the commencement of spring, and diffuses as much joy among the wandering hunters of the Arctic regions, as the harvest or vintage excites in more genial climes.' Both by the Indians and hunters in the employ of the Hudson's Bay Company swans, geese, and ducks, are slaughtered by thousands, and are eaten not only when fresh killed, but they are salted in large quant.i.ties, and so preserved for winter use, when fresh ones can no longer be procured. Of course, both Indian and white hunters use all their art in killing or capturing them; and to effect this they employ many different methods, as decoying, snaring, netting, and shooting them: but Cousin Norman here could give a better description of all these things than I. Perhaps he will favour us with some account of them."

"The Indians," said the young trader, taking up the subject without hesitation, "usually snare them. Their most common way is to make a number of hedges or wattle fences projecting into the water at right angles to the edge of the lake, or, it may be, river. These fences are two or three yards apart, and between each two there is, of course, an opening, into which the birds swim, as they make towards the sh.o.r.e for their food. In these openings, then, the snares are set and tied so firmly to a post stuck in the bottom, that the birds, whether ducks, geese, or swans, when caught, may not be able to drag it away. To keep the snare in its place, it is secured to the wattles of the fence with tender strands of gra.s.s, that of course give way the moment the fowl becomes entangled. The snares are made out of deer sinews, twisted like packthread, and sometimes of thongs cut from a `parchment' deerskin, which, as you know, is a deerskin simply dried, and not tanned or dressed. The making of the fences is the part that gives most trouble.

Sometimes the timber for the stakes is not easily had; and even when it is plenty, it is no easy matter to drive the stakes into the bottom and wattle them, while seated in a vessel so crank as a birch canoe.

Sometimes, in the rivers where the water-fowl most frequent, the current is swift, and adds to this trouble. Where the lakes and rivers are shallow, the thing becomes easier; and I have seen small lakes and rivers fenced in this way from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. In large lakes this would not be necessary, as most of the water-birds--such as the swans and geese--and all the ducks that are not of the diving kinds, are sure to come to the sh.o.r.e to feed, and are more likely to be taken close in to land than out in the open water.

"The Indians often snare these birds upon the nest, and they always wash their hands before setting the snare. They have a notion--I don't know whether true or not--that if their hands are not clean, the birds can smell the snare, and will be shy of going into it. They say that all these birds--and I believe it's true of all fowls that make their nests upon the ground--go into the nest at one side, and out at the opposite.

The Indians knowing this, always set their snares at the side where the bird enters, and by this they are more sure of catching them, and also of getting them some hours sooner.

"Besides snaring the water-fowl," continued Norman, "the Indians sometimes catch them in nets, and sometimes on hooks baited with whatever the birds are known to eat. They also shoot them as the white hunters do, and to get near enough use every sort of cunning that can be thought of. Sometimes they decoy them within shot, by putting wooden ducks on the water near their cover, where they themselves are stationed. Sometimes they disguise their canoes under brushwood, and paddle to the edge of the flock; and when the moulting season comes round, they pursue them through the water, and kill them with sticks.

The swans, when followed in this way, often escape. With their strong wings and great webbed feet, they can flap faster over the surface than a canoe can follow them. I have heard of many other tricks which the Indians of different tribes make use of, but I have only seen these ways I have described, besides the one we have just witnessed."

Norman was one of your practical philosophers, who did not choose to talk much of things with which he was not thoroughly acquainted.

Lucien now took up the thread of the conversation, and gave some further information about the different species of American ducks.

"One of the most celebrated," said he, "is the `eider-duck' (_Anas mollissima_). This is prized for its down, which is exceedingly soft and fine, and esteemed of great value for lining quilts and making beds for the over-luxurious. It is said that three pounds' weight of `eider down' can be compressed to the size of a man's fist, and yet is afterwards so dilatable as to fill a quilt of five feet square. The down is generally obtained without killing the bird, for that which is plucked from dead birds is far inferior, and has lost much of its elasticity. The mode of procuring it is to steal it from the nest, in the absence of the birds. The female lines the nest with down plucked from her own breast. When this is stolen from her, by those who gather the commodity, she plucks out a second crop of it, and arranges it as before. This being also removed, it is said that the male bird then makes a sacrifice of his downy waistcoat, and the nest is once more put in order; but should this too be taken, the birds forsake their nest never to return to it again. The quant.i.ty of `eider down' found in a single nest is sufficient to fill a man's hat, and yet it will weigh only about three ounces.

"The eider-duck is about the size of the common mallard, or wild duck proper. Its colour is black below, and buff-white on the back, neck, and shoulders, while the forehead is bluish black. It is one of the `sea-ducks,' or _fuligulae_, as the naturalists term them, and it is rarely seen in fresh water. Its food is princ.i.p.ally the soft mollusca common in the Arctic seas, and its flesh is not esteemed except by the Greenlanders. It is at home only in the higher lat.i.tudes of both Continents, and loves to dwell upon the rocky sh.o.r.es of the sea; but in very severe winters, it makes its appearance along the Atlantic coast of the United States, where it receives different names from the gunners-- such as `black-and-white coot,' `big sea-duck,' `shoal-duck,' and `squaw-duck;' and under these t.i.tles it is often sold in the markets of American cities. Some suppose that the eider-duck could be easily domesticated. If so, it would, no doubt, prove a profitable as well as an interesting experiment; but I believe it has already been attempted without success. It is in the countries of Northern Europe where the gathering of the eider down has been made an object of industry. On the American Continent the pursuit is not followed, either by the native or white settler.

"Another species common to the higher lat.i.tudes of both Continents is the `king-duck,' so called from its very showy appearance. Its habits are very similar to the `eider,' and its down is equally soft and valuable, but it is a smaller bird.

"A still smaller species, also noted for its brilliant plumage, inhabits the extreme north of both continents. This is the `harlequin-duck;' or, as the early colonists term it, the `lord.'

"But the `wood-duck' (_Anas sponsa_) is perhaps the most beautiful of all the American species, or indeed of all ducks whatever--although it has a rival in the _mandarin duck_ of China, which indeed it very much resembles both in size and markings. The wood-duck is so called from the fact of its making its nest in hollow trees, and roosting occasionally on the branches. It is a freshwater duck, and a Southern species--never being seen in very high lat.i.tudes; nor is it known in Europe in a wild state, but is peculiar to the Continent of America. It is one of the easiest species to domesticate, and no zoological garden is now without it; in all of which its small size--being about that of a widgeon--its active movements and innocent look, its musical _peet-peet_, and, above all, its beautiful plumage, make it a general favourite.

"Besides these, there are many others of the American ducks, whose description would interest you, but you would grow tired were I to give a detailed account of them all; so I shall only mention a few that are distinguished by well-known peculiarities. There is the `whistler'

(_Anas clangula_), which takes its trivial name from the whistling sound of its wings while in flight; and the `shoveller,' so called from the form of its bill; and the `conjuring,' or `spirit' ducks of the Indians (_Anas vulgaris_ and _albeola_), because they dive so quickly and dexterously, that it is almost impossible to shoot them either with bow or gun. There is the `old wife,' or `old squaw' (_Anas glacialis_), so called from its incessant cackle, which the hunters liken to the scolding of an ill-tempered old wife. This species is the most noisy of all the duck tribe, and is called by the voyageurs `caccawee,' from its fancied utterance of these syllables; and the sound, so often heard in the long nights of the fur countries, has been woven into and forms the burden of many a voyageur's song. In some parts of the United States the caccawee is called `south-southerly,' as its voice is there thought to resemble this phrase, while at the time when most heard--the autumn-- these ducks are observed flying in a southerly direction.

"Besides these," continued Lucien, "there are the teals--blue and green-winged--and the coots, and the widgeon--slightly differing from the widgeon of Europe--and there is the rare and beautiful little ruddy duck (_Anas rubida_), with its bright mahogany colour--its long upright tail and short neck--that at a distance give it the appearance of a duck with two heads. And there is the well-known `pintail,' and the `pochard' or `red-head;' and the `mallard,' from which comes the common domestic variety, and the `scoter,' and `surf,' and `velvet,' and `dusky,' ducks--these last four being all, more or less, of a dark colour. And there are the `sh.e.l.l-drakes,' or `fishers,' that swim low in the water, dive and fly well, but walk badly, and feed altogether on fish. These, on account of their toothed bills, form a genus of themselves--the `mergansers,'--and four distinct species of them are known in America."

The approach of night, and the necessity of landing, to make their night camp, brought Lucien's lecture to a close. Indeed Francois was glad when it ended, for he was beginning to think it somewhat tedious.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE SHRIKE AND THE HUMMING-BIRDS.

The picturesque scenery of the Elk appeared to be a favourite resort with the feathered creation. Here our voyageurs saw many kinds of birds; both those that migrate into the fur countries during summer, and those that make their home there in the cold, dark days of winter.

Among the former were observed,--the beautiful blue bird of Wilson (_Sialia Wilsoni_) which, on account of its gentle and innocent habits, is quite as much esteemed in America as the "robin" in England. Another favourite of the farmer and the homestead, the purple martin, was seen gracefully wheeling through the air; while, among the green leaves, fluttered many brilliant birds. The "cardinal grosbeak" (_Pitylus cardinalis_) with his bright scarlet wings; the blue jay, noisy and chattering; the rarer "crossbill" (_Loxia_) with its deep crimson colour; and many others, equally bright and beautiful, enlivened the woods, either with their voice or their gaudy plumage. There was one bird, however, that had neither "fine feathers" nor an agreeable voice, but that interested our travellers more than any of the others. Its voice was unpleasant to the ear, and sounded more like the grating of a rusty hinge than anything else they could think of. The bird itself was not larger than a thrush, of a light grey colour above, white underneath, and with blackish wings. Its bill resembled that of the hawks, but its legs were more like those of the woodp.e.c.k.e.r tribe; and it seemed, in fact, to be a cross between the two. It was neither the colour of the bird, nor its form, nor yet its song, that interested our travellers, but its singular habits; and these they had a fine opportunity of observing at one of their "noon camps," where they had halted to rest and refresh themselves during the hot midday hours. The place was on one of the little islets, which was covered with underwood, with here and there some larger trees. The underwood bushes were of various sorts; but close to the spot where they had landed was a large thicket of honeysuckle, whose flowers were in full bloom, and filled the air with their sweet perfume.

While seated near these, Francois' quick eye detected the presence of some very small birds moving among the blossoms. They were at once p.r.o.nounced to be humming-birds, and of that species known as the "ruby-throats" (_Trochilus rolubris_), so called, because a flake of a beautiful vinous colour under the throat of the males exhibits, in the sun, all the glancing glories of the ruby. The back, or upper parts, are of a gilded green colour; and the little creature is the smallest bird that migrates into the fur countries, with one exception, and that is a bird of the same genus,--the "cinnamon humming-bird" (_Trochilus rufus_). The latter, however, has been seen in the Northern regions, only on the western side of the Rocky Mountains; but then it has been observed even as far north as the bleak and inhospitable sh.o.r.es of Nootka Sound. Mexico, and the tropical countries of America, are the favourite home of the humming-birds; and it was, for a long time, supposed that the "ruby-throats" were the only ones that migrated farther north than the territory of Mexico itself. It is now known, that besides the "cinnamon humming-bird," two or three other species annually make an excursion into higher lat.i.tudes.

The "ruby-throats" not only travel into the fur countries, but breed in numbers upon the Elk River, the very place where our travellers now observed them.

As they sat watching these little creatures, for there were several of them skipping about and poising themselves opposite the flowers, the attention of all was attracted to the movements of a far different sort of bird. It was that one we have been speaking of. It was seated upon a tree, not far from the honeysuckles; but every now and then it would spring from its perch, dash forward, and after whirring about for some moments among the humming-birds, fly back to the same tree.

At first the boys watched these manoeuvres without having their curiosity excited. It was no new thing to see birds acting in this manner. The jays, and many other birds of the fly-catching kind (_Muscicapae_), have this habit, and nothing was thought of it at the moment. Lucien, however, who had watched the bird more narrowly, presently declared to the rest that it was catching the humming-birds, and preying upon them--that each time it made a dash among the honeysuckles, it carried off one in its claws, the smallness of the victim having prevented them at first from noticing this fact. They all now watched it more closely than before, and were soon satisfied of the truth of Lucien's a.s.sertion, as they saw it seize one of the ruby-throats in the very act of entering the corolla of a flower. This excited the indignation of Francois, who immediately took up his "double-barrel," and proceeded towards the tree where the bird, as before, had carried this last victim. The tree was a low one, of the locust or _pseud-acacia_ family, and covered all over with great th.o.r.n.y spikes, like all trees of that tribe. Francois paid no attention to this; but, keeping under shelter of the underwood, he crept forward until within shot. Then raising his gun, he took aim, and pulling trigger, brought the bird fluttering down through the branches. He stepped forward and picked it up--not that he cared for such unworthy game, but Lucien had called to him to do so, as the naturalist wished to make an examination of the creature. He was about turning to go back to camp, when he chanced to glance his eye up into the locust-tree. There it was riveted by a sight which caused him to cry out with astonishment.

His cry brought the rest running up to the spot, and they were not less astonished than he, when they saw the cause of it. I have said that the branches of the tree were covered with long th.o.r.n.y spikes that pointed in every direction; but one branch in particular occupied their attention. Upon this there were about a dozen of these spines pointing upward, and upon each spike _was impaled a ruby-throat_! The little creatures were dead, of course, but they were neither torn nor even much ruffled in their plumage. They were all placed back upwards, and as neatly spitted upon the thorns as if they had been put there by human hands. On looking more closely, it was discovered that other creatures, as well as the humming-birds, had been served in a similar manner.

Several gra.s.shoppers, spiders, and some coleopterous insects were found, and upon another branch two small meadow-mice (_Arvicolae_) had been treated to the same terrible death!

To Basil, Norman, and Francois, the thing was quite inexplicable, but Lucien understood well enough what it meant. All these creatures, he informed them, were placed there by the bird which Francois had shot, and which was no other than the "shrike" (_Lanius_) or "butcher-bird"--a name by which it is more familiarly known, and which it receives from the very habit they had just observed. Why it follows such a practice Lucien could not tell, as naturalists are not agreed upon this point.

Some have a.s.serted that it spits the spiders and other insects for the purpose of attracting nearer the small birds upon which it preys; but this cannot be true, for it preys mostly upon birds that are not insect-eaters, as the finches: besides, it is itself as fond of eating gra.s.shoppers as anything else, and consumes large quant.i.ties of these insects. The most probable explanation of the singular and apparently cruel habit of the butcher-bird is, that it merely places its victims upon the thorns, in order to keep them safe from ground-ants, rats, mice, racc.o.o.ns, foxes, and other preying creatures--just as a good cook would hang up her meat or game in the larder to prevent the cats from carrying it off. The th.o.r.n.y tree thus becomes the storehouse of the shrike, where he hangs up his superfluous spoil for future use, just as the crows, magpies, and jays, make their secret deposits in c.h.i.n.ks of walls and the hollows of trees. It is no argument against this theory, that the shrike sometimes leaves these stores without returning to them.

The fox, and dog, as well as many other preying creatures, have the same habit.

Wondering at what they had seen, the voyageurs returned to their camp, and once more embarked on their journey.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE FISH-HAWK.

A few days after, another incident occurred to our voyageurs, which ill.u.s.trated the habits of a very interesting bird, the "osprey," or fish-hawk, as it is more familiarly known in America.

The osprey (_Falco halicetus_) is a bird of the falcon tribe, and one of the largest of the genus--measuring two feet from bill to tail, with an immense spread of wing in proportion, being nearly six feet from tip to tip. It is of a dark-brown colour above, that colour peculiar to most of the hawk tribe, while its lower parts are ashy white. Its legs and bill are blue, and its eyes of a yellow orange. It is found in nearly all parts of America, where there are waters containing fish, for on these it exclusively feeds. It is more common on the sea-coast than in the interior, although it also frequents the large lakes, and lives in the central parts of the continent during summer, when these are no longer frozen over. It is not often seen upon muddy rivers, as there it would stand no chance of espying its victims in the water. It is a migratory bird, seeking the South in winter, and especially the sh.o.r.es of the Great Mexican Gulf, where large numbers are often seen fishing together. In the spring season these birds move to the northward, and make their appearance along the Atlantic coast of the continent, where they diffuse joy into the hearts of the fishermen--because the latter know, on seeing them, that they may soon expect the large shoals of herring, shad, and other fish, for which they have been anxiously looking out. So great favourites are they with the fishermen, that they would not knowingly kill an osprey for a boat-load of fish, but regard these bold fishing birds in the light of "professional brethren." In this case the old adage that "two of a trade never agree" is clearly contradicted. The farmer often takes up his gun to fire at the osprey-- mistaking it for the red-tailed buzzard (_Buteo borealis_) or some other hawk, several species of which at a distance it resembles--but, on discovering his mistake, brings down his piece without pulling trigger, and lets the osprey fly off unharmed. This singular conduct on the part of the farmer arises from his knowledge of the fact, that the osprey will not only _not_ kill any of his ducks or hens, but that where he makes a settlement he will drive off from the premises all the hawks, buzzards, and kites, that would otherwise prey upon the poultry. With such protection, therefore, the osprey is one of the securest birds in America. He may breed in a tree over the farmer's or fisherman's door without the slightest danger of being disturbed in his incubation. I say _his_ incubation; but the male takes no part in this domestic duty, further than to supply his loved mate with plenty of fish while she does the hatching business. Of course, thus protected, the osprey is not a rare bird. On the contrary, fish-hawks are more numerous than perhaps any other species of the hawk tribe. Twenty or thirty nests may be seen near each other in the same piece of woods, and as many as three hundred have been counted on one little island. The nests are built upon large trees--not always at the tops, as those of rooks, but often in forks within twenty feet of the ground. They are composed of large sticks, with stalks of corn, weeds, pieces of wet turf, and then lined plentifully with dry sea-gra.s.s, or any other gra.s.s that may be most convenient. The whole nest is big enough to make a load for a cart, and would be heavy enough to give any horse a good pull. It can be seen, when the woods are open, to an immense distance, and the more easily, as the tree upon which it is built is always a "dead wood," and therefore without leaves to conceal it. Some say that the birds select a dead or decaying tree for their nest. It is more probable such is the effect, and not the cause, of their building upon a particular tree. It is more likely that the tree is killed partly by the ma.s.s of rubbish thus piled upon it, and partly by the nature of the substances, such as sea-weed in the nest, the oil of the fish, the excrement of the birds themselves, and the dead fish that have been dropped about the root, and suffered to remain there; for when the osprey lets fall his finny prey, which he often does, he never condescends to pick it up again, but goes in search of another. Boys "a-nesting" might easily discover the nest of the osprey; but were they inclined to despoil it of its three or four eggs (which are about the size of a duck's, and blotched with Spanish brown), they would find that a less easy task, for the owners would be very likely to claw their eyes out, or else scratch the tender skin from their beardless cheeks: so that boys do not often trouble the nest of the osprey. A very curious anecdote is related of a negro having climbed up to plunder a nest of these birds. The negro's head was covered with a close nap of his own black wool, which is supposed by a certain stretch of fancy to have the peculiarity of "growing in at both ends." The negro, having no other protection than that which his thick fur afforded him, was a.s.sailed by both the owners of the nest, one of which, making a dash at the "darkie's" head, struck his talons so firmly into the wool, that he was unable to extricate them, and there stuck fast, until the astonished plunderer had reached the foot of the tree.

We shall not answer for the truthfulness of this anecdote, although there is nothing improbable about it; for certain it is that these birds defend their nests with courage and fury, and we know of more than one instance of persons being severely wounded who made the attempt to rob them.

The ospreys, as already stated, feed exclusively on fish. They are not known to prey upon birds or quadrupeds of any kind, even when deprived of their customary food, as they sometimes are for days, on account of the lakes and rivers, in which they expected to find it, being frozen over to a later season than usual. Other birds, as the purple grakles, often build among the sticks of the osprey's nest, and rear their young without being meddled with by this generous bird. This is an important point of difference between the osprey and other kinds of hawks; and there is a peculiarity of structure about the feet and legs of the osprey, that points to the nature of his food and his mode of procuring it. His legs are disproportionately long and strong. They are without feathers nearly to the knees. The feet and toes are also very long, and the soles are covered with thick, hard scales, like the teeth of a rasp, which enable the bird to hold securely his slippery prey. The claws, too, are long, and curved into semicircles, with points upon them almost as sharp as needles.

I have stated that an incident occurred to our party that ill.u.s.trated some of the habits of this interesting bird. It was upon the afternoon of a Sat.u.r.day, after they had fixed their camp to remain for the following day. They had landed upon a point or promontory that ran out into the river, and from which they commanded a view of a fine stretch of water. Near where they had placed their tent was the nest of an osprey, in the forks of a large poplar. The tree, as usual, was dead, and the young were plainly visible over the edge of the nest. They appeared to be full-grown and feathered; but it is a peculiarity of the young ospreys that they will remain in the nest, and be fed by the parent birds, until long after they might be considered able to shift for themselves. It is even a.s.serted that the latter become impatient at length, and drive the young ones out of the nest by beating them with their wings; but that for a considerable time afterwards they continue to feed them--most likely until the young birds learn to capture their finny prey for themselves.

This Lucien gave as a popular statement, but did not vouch for its truth. It was not long, however, before both he and his companions witnessed its complete verification.

The old birds, after the arrival of the voyageurs upon the promontory, had remained for some time around the nest, and at intervals had shot down to where the party was, uttering loud screams, and making the air whizz with the strokes of their wings. Seeing that there was no intention of disturbing them, they at length desisted from these demonstrations, and sat for a good while quietly upon the edge of their nest. Then first one, and shortly after the other, flew out, and commenced sailing in circles, at the height of an hundred feet or so above the water. Nothing could be more graceful than their flight. Now they would poise themselves a moment in the air, then turn their bodies as if on a pivot, and glide off in another direction. All these motions were carried on with the most perfect ease, and as if without the slightest aid from the wings. Again they would come to a pause, holding themselves fixed in mid-air by a gentle flapping, and appearing to scrutinise some object below. Perhaps it was a fish; but it was either too large a one, or not the species most relished, or maybe it had sunk to too great a depth to be easily taken. Again they sail around; one of them suddenly arrests its flight, and, like a stone projected from a sling, shoots down to the water. Before reaching the surface, however, the fish, whose quick eye has detected the coming enemy, has gone to the dark bottom, and concealed himself; and the osprey, suddenly checking himself by his wings and the spread of his full tail, mounts again, and re-commences his curvilinear flight.

After this had gone on for some time, one of the birds--the larger one, and therefore the female--was seen to leave off hunting, and return to the nest. There she sat only for a few seconds, when, to the astonishment of the boys, she began to strike her wings against the young ones, as if she was endeavouring to force them from the nest.

This was just what she designed doing. Perhaps her late unsuccessful attempt to get them a fish had led her to a train of reflections, and sharpened her determination to make them shift for themselves. However that may be, in a few moments she succeeded in driving them up to the edge, and then, by half pushing, and half beating them with her wings, one after the other--two of them there were--was seen to take wing, and soar away out over the lake.

At this moment, the male shot down upon the water, and then rose again into the air, bearing a fish, head-foremost, in his talons. He flew directly towards one of the young, and meeting it as it hovered in the air, turned suddenly over, and held out the fish to it. The latter clutched it with as much ease as if it had been accustomed to the thing for years, and then turning away, carried the fish to a neighbouring tree, and commenced devouring it. The action had been perceived by the other youngster, who followed after, and alighted upon the same branch, with the intention of sharing in the meal. In a few minutes, the best part of the fish was eaten up, and both, rising from the branch, flew back to their nest. There they were met by the parents, and welcomed with a loud squeaking, that was intended, no doubt, to congratulate them upon the success of their first "fly."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE OSPREY AND HIS TYRANT.

After remaining for some time on the nest along with the others, the old male again resolved to "go a-fishing," and with this intent he shot out from the tree, and commenced wheeling above the water. The boys, having nothing better to engage them, sat watching his motions, while they freely conversed about his habits and other points in his natural history. Lucien informed them that the osprey is a bird common to both Continents, and that it is often seen upon the sh.o.r.es of the Mediterranean, pursuing the finny tribes there, just as it does in America. In some parts of Italy it is called the "leaden eagle,"

because its sudden heavy plunge upon the water is fancied to resemble the falling of a piece of lead.

While they were discoursing, the osprey was seen to dip once or twice towards the surface of the water, and then suddenly check himself, and mount upward again. These manoeuvres were no doubt caused by the fish which he intended to "hook" having suddenly shifted their quarters.

Most probably experience had taught them wisdom, and they knew the osprey as their most terrible enemy. But they were not to escape him at all times. As the boys watched the bird, he was seen to poise himself for an instant in the air, then suddenly closing his wings, he shot vertically downward. So rapid was his descent, that the eye could only trace it like a bolt of lightning. There was a sharp whizzing sound in the air--a plash was heard--then the smooth bosom of the water was seen to break, and the white spray rose several feet above the surface. For an instant the bird was no longer seen. He was underneath, and the place of his descent was marked by a patch of foam. Only a single moment was he out of sight. The next he emerged, and a few strokes of his broad wing carried him into the air, while a large fish was seen griped in his claws. As the voyageurs had before noticed, the fish was carried head-foremost, and this led them to the conclusion that in striking his prey beneath the water the osprey follows it and aims his blow from behind.

After mounting a short distance the bird paused for a moment in the air, and gave himself a shake, precisely as a dog would do after coming out of water. He then directed his flight, now somewhat slow and heavy, toward the nest. On reaching the tree, however, there appeared to be some mismanagement. The fish caught among the branches as he flew inward. Perhaps the presence of the camp had distracted his attention, and rendered him less careful. At all events, the prey was seen to drop from his talons; and bounding from branch to branch, went tumbling down to the bottom of the tree.