That birds recognise their own images in mirrors as birds there can be no question. Houzeau, who records observations of his own in this connection with parrots,[178] adds that dogs are more difficult to deceive by mirrors in this way than birds, on account of their depending so much upon smell for their information. No doubt individual differences are to be met with in animals of both classes, and much depends on previous experience. Young dogs, or dogs which have never seen a mirror before, are not, as a rule, difficult to deceive, even though they have good noses. I myself had a setter with an excellent nose, who on many repeated occasions tried to fight his own image, till he found by experience that it was of no use. As to birds, I have seen canaries suppose their own images to be other canary birds, and also the reflection of a room to be another room—the birds flying against a large mirror and falling half stunned. I mention the latter circumstance because it afforded evidence of the superior intelligence of a linnet, which on the same occasion dashed itself against the mirror once, but never a second time, while the canaries did so repeatedly.
Mrs. Frankland, in 'Nature' (xxi., p. 82), gives the following account of a bullfinch paying more attention to a portrait of a bullfinch than to his own image in a mirror, which is certainly remarkable; and as the fact seems to have been observed repeatedly, it can scarcely be discredited:
The following is a curious instance of discrimination which I have observed in my bullfinch. He is in the habit of coming out of his cage in my room in the morning. In this room there is a mirror with a marble slab before it, and also a very cleverly executed water-colour drawing of a hen bullfinch, life size. The first thing that my bullfinch does on leaving his cage is to fly to the picture (perching on a vase just below it) and pipe his tune in the most insinuating manner, accompanied with much bowing to the portrait of the hen bullfinch. After having duly paid his addresses to it, he generally spends some time on the marble slab in front of the looking-glass, but without showing the slightest emotion at the sight of his own reflection, or courting it with a song. Whether this perfect coolness is due to the fact of the reflection being that of a cock bird, or whether (since he shows no desire to fight the reflected image) he is perfectly well aware that he only sees himself, it is difficult to say.
That birds possess considerable powers of imagination, or forming mental pictures of absent objects, may be inferred from the fact of their pining for absent mates, parrots calling for absent friends, &c. The same fact is further proved by birds dreaming, a faculty which has been noticed by Cuvier, Jerdon, Thompson, Bennet, Houzeau, Bechstein, Lindsay, and Darwin.[179]
The facility with which birds lend themselves to the education of the show-man is certain evidence of considerable docility, or the power of forming novel associations of ideas. Thus, according to Bingley,—
Some years ago the Sieur Roman exhibited in this country the wonderful performances of his birds. These were goldfinches, linnets, and canary birds. One appeared dead, and was held up by the tail or claw without exhibiting any signs of life. A second stood on its head, with its claws in the air, &c., &c.[180]
And many years ago there was exhibited a very puzzling automaton, which, although of very small size and quite isolated from any possibly mechanical connection with its designer, performed certain movements in any order that the fancy of the observers might dictate. The explanation turned out to be that within the mechanism of the figure there was a canary bird which had been taught to run in different directions at different words or tones of command, so by its weight starting the mechanism to perform the particular movement required.
The rapidity with which birds learn not to fly against newly erected telegraph wires, displays a large amount of observation and intelligence. The fact has been repeatedly observed. For instance, Mr. Holden says:—
About twelve years ago I was residing on the coast of county Antrim, at the time the telegraph wires were set up along that charming road which skirts the sea between Larne and Cushendall. During the winter months large flocks of starlings always migrated over from Scotland, arriving in the early morning. The first winter after the wires were stretched along the coast I frequently found numbers of starlings lying dead or wounded on the road-side, they having evidently in their flight in the dusky morn struck against the telegraph wires, not blown against them, as these accidents often occurred when there was but little wind. I found that the peasantry had come to the conclusion that these unusual deaths were due to the flash of the telegraph messages killing any starlings that happened to be perched on the wires when working. Strange to say that throughout the following and succeeding winters hardly a death occurred among the starlings on their arrival. It would thus appear that the birds were deeply impressed, and understood the cause of the fatal accidents among their fellow-travellers the previous year, and hence carefully avoided the telegraph wires; not only so, but the young birds must also have acquired this knowledge and perpetuated it, a knowledge which they could not have acquired by experience or even instinct, unless the instinct was really inherited memory derived from the parents whose brains were first impressed by it.[181]
Similar facts are given in Buckland's 'Curiosities of Natural History,'[182] and I have myself known of a case in Scotland where a telegraph was erected across a piece of moorland. During the first season some of the grouse were injured by flying against the wires, but never in any succeeding season. Why the young birds should avoid them without having had individual experience may, I think, be explained by the consideration that in birds which fly in flocks or coveys, it is the older ones that lead the way. This explanation would not, of course, apply to birds which fly singly; but I am not aware that any observations have gone to show that the young of such birds avoid the wires.