The White-fronted Bernicle Goose.
English Synonyms.—Bernicle Goose: Selby, Montagu. White-faced Bernicle Goose: McGillivray. Common Bernicle: Jenyns. Clukis: Selby.
Latin Synonyms.—Anas bernicla: Linn. Anas erythropus: Latham. Anser leucopsis: Temminck, Jenyns. Anser bernicla: Selby. Bernicla leucopsis: Bonaparte, McGillivray.
French Synonym.—Oie bernache.
In its winter plumage this is a beautiful Goose, much smaller than those just described, but with a full body, long neck, and a small, oblong, and compressed head, with soft glossy plumage well blended on the head, neck, and breast. It occurs in considerable flocks in the Outer Hebrides, where it arrives in October, and remains till April. A large flock of these birds sitting lightly on the water, advancing with elevated necks, presents a very beautiful spectacle. Nor are they less handsome on the wing as they shoot through the air, now arranged in long undulating ranks, at one time extending in the direct line of their flight, at another flying obliquely, or at right angles to it, and again mingling altogether under some unexplained impulse. Their voice, as it proceeds from a large flock at some distance off, is clear and shrill, producing a pleasant harmony.
The Brent Goose, or Black-faced Bernicle, is much smaller than the Anser leucopsis, and easily distinguished from it by the face and head being entirely black. They seem to have visited our shores in great numbers in former years. In the years 1739—40 these birds were so abundant on the French coast that the people rose en masse to destroy them, and so numerous on the Kentish coast that many were taken in a starving condition. Mr. McGillivray met with large flocks of them in Cromarty Bay, Beauley Firth, and Montrose Basin. Mr. Selby observed them as constant visitors on the shallow waters between Holy Island and the mainland, and other parts of the coast.
Fig. 98.—White-fronted Bernicle Goose (Anser erythropus).
The Swan (Cygnus).
The Swan, which belongs to the family of Lamellirostral Palmipedes, has been an object of admiration in all ages for its noble and elegant proportions, the graceful curvature of its neck, its small and shapely oval head, its beak so prominent at the base, the gracefully-swelling rotundity of its body, its plumage so abundant in down, and its colour of purest white of the species with which we are most familiar, and is the finest and largest of all our aquatic birds. On the water it is a picture of elegant ease; it swims apparently without effort, and with great rapidity; on the wing it rises to a great height, but on shore its walk is slow and cumbersome. It is found in Europe, Asia, and America; and in Australia the Black Swan, for ages the rara avis of the poets, is very abundant. In the wild state it lives on the lakes, rivers, and sea-coasts of both hemispheres, feeding on such seeds, leaves, roots, water-insects, frogs, and worms as come in its way. In its domestic state it is the charm and ornament of our lakes and rivers; but, except in some few instances, it is only kept for show, being jealous and cruel in disposition, and incapable of being tamed.
Fig. 99.—Swans (Cygnus olor).
The ancients thought the voice of the Swan musical and harmonious, and its gracefully-rounded form and stately neck inspired many poets, who have described it as the bird of gods and goddesses. The poetical imagination of the Greeks, in short, associated their most agreeable ideas with its name. It was one of their pleasing fictions that in dying and breathing out its last sigh, the Swan celebrated its death by a melodious song; or, as Eloy Johanneau has it—
"Le Cygne, à la fin de la vie, Fait entendre un touchant accord, Et d'une voix affaiblie Chante lui-même en mort."
Buffon himself has drawn the portraiture of this bird in words more poetical than true:—"The Swan," he says, "reigns over the water by every claim which can constitute an empire of peace, grandeur, majesty, and kindness.... He lives more in the character of a friend than a monarch amid the numerous tribes of aquatic birds, all of which seem willingly to place themselves under his rule."
The great naturalist certainly allowed himself to be led away by his enthusiasm, and perhaps by his classic recollections; for the Swan, although elegant and majestic in form, and graceful in its movements on the water, is clumsy and awkward when on land; it is, besides, spiteful and quarrelsome. It attacks every animal, and even man. The Swans in the gardens of the Luxembourg at Paris had taken an aversion to all the keepers, and whenever they saw one, they all came out of the water in order to pick a quarrel with him.
The principal strength of the Swan does not lie in its beak, but in its wings—a most effective offensive weapon, of which it takes every advantage. In spite of its bad qualities, however, the Swan is the most ornamental of all our aquatic birds. Its beak is flesh colour, edged with black, and its plumage white as snow.
Its song, or rather its cry, is indeed far from being harmonious. It is a dull and harsh sibilation, not at all agreeable to listen to. Some of the poets, however, have not believed the fable which attributes to these birds a sonorous and melodious voice. Virgil perfectly well knew how hoarse the note of the Swan really was—
"Dant sonitum rauci per stagna loquacia cycni."
Lucretius also says—
"Parvus cycni canor."