Nos. 4 and 5 are Vultures shown flying farther away from the spectator’s eye, and consequently on a smaller scale. The black and white of the adult Egyptian Vulture, No. 4, is such a distinctive characteristic that recognition is easy, but in the case of the young bird the plumage is dirty brown and grey with faint dark streaks on it, and at that stage might be confused with Griffon Vultures, if it were not for its smaller size. In flying, the way it tucks its head in so that only its bill seems visible, and the very small tail in proportion to the wing area, are the outstanding peculiarities of this, and indeed all Vultures.
No. 5 shows a distant group of Griffons, purposely placed at a distance, as on the small space of a page, if they were brought as near the eye as the other birds, they would completely cover the whole space, for they have an enormous span of wing. Note how small the tail is, and how the head is practically invisible.
Nos. 6 and 7 are of different orders of birds altogether, one being a Stork, the other the Heron. The Storks fly with outstretched neck, whilst all of the great family of Herons fly with their neck doubled up and the head rather tucked back towards the shoulders.
If these seven characteristic diagrammatic pictures of birds are once really learnt, it will enable the most ordinary observer not only to know those particular six birds, but the whole families, meaning many scores of birds of which these are chosen as representatives. The eyesight of some may need help in the form of a good field-glass. What is a good field-glass each individual must discover for him or herself, since the good glass is the one that really suits the sight of its owner. Some of the most noted glasses of to-day are not, anyhow to myself, of as much use as an old-fashioned one that I have had for years, and with which I am able at once to “get on” to the object I wish to observe. This is a most important detail, because birds are rarely still or quiet for long. When flying, this is particularly the case, and the simpler the glass and its mechanism the quicker you are on the object,—and this when, perhaps, you have only a matter of seconds for your observation is of first importance. As I do not wish either to embark on a libel action on the one side, or act as an advertiser of any maker, not even of the maker of my own glass, I praise or blame none, but suggest with all earnestness to every one who desires to really enjoy the study of bird life on the Nile or in their own country, without fail to get a glass that suits them, and which they can handle with lightning speed. I dwell on this because I have met so many having most expensive modern glasses who say they cannot find any pleasure in using them on birds, and I generally find that it is owing to the small field that their glasses cover. Sometimes these glasses are of quite extraordinary power, so that I have heard a man declare he could see a fly crawling over a carved face on the tip-top of some far-away temple, but that type of glass is not what is wanted for rough and ready quick field work, and it is of no more use than the three-feet long telescope still beloved by the Scotch stalkers. Birds rarely if ever allow time for one to lie down on one’s back, and with help of stout stick and the top of knee make a firm stand on which to place the glass and get the range. Over twenty-five years ago I wrote on “Nature through a Field-glass,”[1] and although since then one has had to alter one’s views on so many different points, I do not think I would wish to alter one single word in the claim made for the value of this aid to Nature study. So many birds are such small objects, that ten or fifteen paces away they are mere spots, and very difficult to recognise, as the detail of their plumage at that distance is lost, and all you can say is, that it is some small bird, but with a glass you can have it brought up to your very eye, you can see the arrangement of the masses of the feathers, and note even the ever lifting and falling of its little crest, as it goes creeping and stealthily gliding through the twigs and bushes after its insect food.
[1] In The Art Journal.
Egypt certainly is singularly fortunate in that birds here are far tamer than we find them at home, and so admit of a closer inspection; but even so, I should have been, times without number, utterly at a loss to exactly identify certain birds if it were not for my trusty glasses. There are some occasions where, owing to the extraordinary tameness of birds, no glasses are needed, and I recommend to all bird enthusiasts the ground within the areas under the control of the Antiquities Department. No guns are allowed there, as they are up and down the Nile, and the birds know it. One of my favourite places of observation was at the Sacred Lake at Karnac. By the courtesy of Mr. Weigall, Chief Inspector of Antiquities, Upper Egypt, I was allowed to sleep in a disused building by the water-side, and by that means enjoyed opportunities, which fall to the lot of few, of studying bird life from midnight to early morning, and it is astonishing the number of birds that foregather to that quiet spot. Practically all night through there were sounds of birds coming or going at intervals. The calling of Coots one to another were the commonest sounds during the darkest hours; but at about 3 A.M., when I thought I could discern a little light, I would distinctly hear the “scarpe scarpe” cry of Snipe. A little later the hooting of the Eagle Owl, whom I knew had his nest up on the top of one of the end columns of the great hall, and then gradually from this side, then from that, came an ever-increasing series of calls and pipings, and one could make out flocks of Duck disappearing over the ridge of sand and broken-up masses of masonry. Later, shadowy forms of Greenshank or Plover showed as they went paddling by some faintly lighted-up pool, till at last the sun was up, and crested Larks were running round the banks fearlessly, and blue-throated warblers were hopping about the few bushes at the edge, and ever and anon flitting down to the ground and back again to the leafy shelter.
The question is asked and asked, but no very distinct answer comes, why are the birds so tame in Egypt? I am at a loss to know myself, for the land teems with foxes, jackals, kites, vultures, eagles, falcons, and hawks without end, all with an eye to business, ever circling round ready to devour any unprotected thing they can lay claws upon, and yet this seemingly utter fearlessness of all these mild-natured, defenceless little birds. Further, here in Egypt are perhaps more “demon boys” than are to be found elsewhere, and I hold firmly with the ancient sage, who said “that of all savage beasts the boy is the worst,” so that the tameness of some of Egypt’s birds is one more mystery of this land of mysteries.
In the following pages I have almost entirely spoken of the particular birds pictured in the illustrations. I am quite prepared for the question, however, “But why did you not include such and such a bird?” and my defence can only be the old one of the difficulty of settling various person’s ideas of what should be considered the best representative list of anything—whether it be birds, books, or pretty women. It must also be remembered that Egypt proper—the area alone treated upon in these pages—begins at Alexandria and ends at Assoan, a stretch of country of about 525 miles, whilst the breadth may be anything from fifty miles to less than one. From that area our selection has had to be mainly confined, and it has meant excluding a certain number of very beautiful and interesting forms.
Bird lovers should remember that when the, at first, seemingly rather extortionate demand of 120 piastres is made, before they are given the card which admits them to the temples, tombs, and areas under the control of the Antiquities Department, they are, in a very important way, really helping on the preservation of birds, for, as already has been said, on no ground under the control of the Department are birds allowed to be shot, and as these spots are the very ones in all Egypt most visited, it is very necessary, as amongst the thousands of tourists that are made familiar with the fact that wild duck, snipe, and waders were very tame at these places, there would always be some unsportsmanlike guns, who would seize the opportunity of going to those very places. Then no longer would the hooting of owls be heard in the ruins, no swallows nesting in the rock-hewn tombs, and no coot and wildfowl would ever be seen on the small sheets of water or sacred lakes that adjoin the temples. That all these birds are there means a very great added interest to these places to every one, and to some of us bird enthusiasts the living interest is greater than that which we can whip up for those heavy, severe, architectural achievements, or wild chaotic masses of ruined masonry.
Elsewhere the point of the scarcity of bird life in the hot summer months has been spoken of, but it is also curious to note that there are just about three to five weeks of mid-winter during which there is no migratory wave seemingly going on at all, up or down the Nile valley. No bands, great or small, of birds heading due north or due south are ever to be seen, and the remark is often made on the paucity of bird life, some persons even declaring that it is “a birdless land.” That the native birds are very small in number is true, but the total number of birds, and varieties of birds, that come for a time and pass on is very great. Those that live in temperate climes do, however, have the best of the deal, as it must ever be a greater