The most remarkable species is the great white heron (Ardea alba), or yellow-billed white egret, clothed in plumage of snowy white, with a long yellow bill, long lank limbs, and black feet; length about forty inches. On the nape and the croup his feathers are long and flexible, wavy, and with tapering ends; they are eagerly sought after for purposes of adornment. We may also mention the great bittern, the “bird of desolation” (Botauris stellaris)—which the French expressively name eau-mère, or “water-mother,” and which derives its zoological appellation from the Latin words bos and taureau, in allusion to the booming, bellowing sound of his hoarse voice. His plumage is of a pale yellow, marked with brown and nest-coloured zig-zag patches and shades. From the fulness of the feathers about his neck, he presents a very quaint, and even ridiculous appearance; but he is a bird of courage, and even of ferocity, striking with keen bill at the eyes of his antagonist. When attacked by dogs or other carnivora, he will throw himself upon the ground, and fight with both claws and bill unto the very last.
The curlew is allied to the ibis, differing from it only in secondary particulars, and notably in the form of his bill, which is thinner, and rounded in its whole length. His tail resembles the hen’s; the plumage of the head, neck, and fore part of the back, is light reddish-gray, streaked with dark-brown; the hind part of the back is white, with dark narrow longitudinal markings; the tail, breast, and abdomen are white, the former crossed with black bars, and the latter with dark marks and spots of a similar shape to those on the back. The female lays four excessively large pyriform eggs, about three inches long. The cry of the curlew is loud, wild, and plaintive. These birds assemble in numerous flocks, and live on the sea-coast and the marsh-border, feeding on worms and molluscs. At breeding-time they separate into pairs, and haunt the wild hills and dreary moorlands,—
“Remote from human sight,
In lonely pairs their vernal flight
They speed o’er heathy mountain rude,
On some waste marsh’s solitude,
To the tall grass or bristling reed
Their wild unnestled young to breed.”
The species of Pelican which inhabits the shores of the Black and Caspian Seas is the Common (Pelicanus Onocrotalus). We must not pass unnoticed this well-known wader, which has for ages been invested with an atmosphere of song and fable, and which is specially remarkable for the bright yellow membranous pouch attached to the lower mandible of his long robust bill. This pouch, says Broderip, will hold a considerable number of fish, and thus enables the bird to dispose of the superfluous quantity which may be taken during fishing excursions, either for his own consumption or for the nourishment of his young. “In feeding the nestlings—and the male is said to supply the wants of the female, when sitting, in the same manner—the under mandible is pressed against the neck and breast, to assist the bird in disgorging the contents of the capacious pouch; and during this action the red nail of the upper mandible would appear to come in contact with the breast, thus laying the foundation, in all probability, for the fable that the pelican nourishes her young with her blood, and for the attitude in which the imagination of painters has placed the bird in books of emblems, with the blood spirting from the wounds made by the terminating nail of the upper mandible into the gaping mouths of her offspring.”
It is usually in the evening or the morning that these birds gather about the lonely shores to fish in company, like a party of sociable Izaak Waltons, and proceeding, as Nordmann remarks, upon a systematic plan, which is apparently the result of a kind of concerted agreement. They select a suitable station—a shallow bay with a smooth bottom. There they arrange themselves in a half-circle, the bill turned towards the ground, and keeping at a distance of from ten to twelve feet. With their wings they beat the water hurriedly, and sometimes plunge in up to their middle, gradually wading towards the beach, and driving the fish before them into a very narrow channel. Now the feast commences, and other birds never fail to profit by the ingenious labours of the pelican. Nordmann counted, on one occasion, forty-nine pelicans fishing together in this fashion on the shores of the Black Sea.
“Besides these forty-nine,” he adds, “there were assembled on the heaps of algæ, confervæ, and shells cast ashore by the sea, hundreds of sea-mews, sea-swallows, sea-daws, preparing to snatch the fish out of the water, and to divide amongst themselves the remains of the banquet. Finally, several grebes swimming in the area circumscribed by the semicircle of fishers, while this space was still sufficiently broad, played their part at the welcome feast, frequently plunging after the scared and terrified fish.”
The bustard and the grouse, or heather-cock, are common enough in the prairies of Central Asia. Crows and numerous birds of prey also flock thither in search of their dead or living prey. Travellers speak of a black eagle of Mongolia which the Mongols and Kalkas train to hunt the moufflon, the yellow goat, and the saiga. We cannot find the bird described under this name by any naturalist, nor can we determine whether he is an eagle properly so called, or whether he is not rather the cosmopolitan black kite (milvus ater), which rises so fiercely on his plumed wings,
“And hunts the air for plunder.”