Of the Cuculine Birds, or Cuckoos, none are permanently resident in countries subject to severe winter cold. They feed mostly on insects, worms, or soft fruit, gliding amid the trees in search of their food in a peculiarly rapid and noiseless manner. In passing from branch to branch they generally leap; they do not climb like the Woodpeckers and Creepers, although they have much the same conformation of feet, the outer toe being directed backwards, as well as the first; this is called Zy-go-dac-ty-lous, a Greek word, signifying that the toes are yoked, or in pairs, two before and two behind. We have thought it well to introduce this queer word to our readers, lest they should stumble over it, as they are likely to do, in many works on Natural History which they may consult, and be frightened at its uncouth appearance; they will now know what is meant by zygodactylous, or dactytic birds, such as Owls, Woodpeckers, Cuckoos, etc. But having explained thus much, we should go a step farther, and introduce also A-ni-so-dac-ty-lous, Greek again, meaning unequally yoked, that is, when there is a wider interval between one pair of toes than between the other.
Of Cuckoos the British Naturalist knows of three species; the Great Spotted Cuckoo, inhabiting chiefly the northern and western coasts of Africa, and only now and then paying a short visit to these northern climes; the Yellow-billed, or American Cuckoo, or Cowcow, as some call it, which is a more frequent, although still a rare visitant, and the Common Grey species, termed Cuculus canorus, that is, the Musical Cuckoo, with whose curious cry—cuck-oooo, most of our readers must be familiar. It may not be generally thought that there is much music in this monotonous, that is, single-toned call, but we are assured by a competent authority, that this is the only feathered performer who sings in strict accordance with musical numbers, its notes being the fifth and third of the diatonic scale. But be that as it may, the cry of the Cuckoo is extremely pleasant to most ears, when first heard, soon after the bird arrives in this country, which is sometimes about the middle of April, "in April, come he will," says the old proverb; we know that the fresh floral season of sunshine and country delights, has fairly set in, and all through the summer, to the time of his departure, in August or September, we love to listen to the far-away, dreamy kind of call, for it seems like an invitation to 'follow, follow,' some invisible leader, through greenwoods and flowery dingles, and into scenes of quietude and peace; then, too, there is a kind of mystery about it which excites the curiosity, for who ever sees the utterer of these dreamy sounds. We are inclined to say with Wordsworth,—
"Oh, Cuckoo, shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice."
And indeed the Cuckoo is a flying and feathered marvel altogether; we should fill this book were we to repeat all the strange tales that have been told about it, and by grave authorities too, from Aristotle of ancient Greece, to Dr. Jenner, and the rest of modern England. Amid all the disputations that have arisen upon the points of this bird's natural history, we can only clearly gather that it is a summer migrant, coming and going at the times just mentioned; that while with us it is to be found in all wooded and sheltered parts of the island, frequenting most parks and pasture-grounds, groves and thickets, it is more likely to be seen at early morning and evening, than during the broad daylight, and its cry has been heard at all hours of the night, proving it to be somewhat nocturnal in its habits,—nox, you know is the Latin for night, and from thence comes this word.
The Cuckoo lives almost entirely upon insects, devouring great numbers of hairy caterpillars. It makes no nest of its own, but lays a single egg in that of some other bird, or conveys it thither in its bill. Its eggs are small for the size of the bird, in colour white, with a greyish, or it may be a reddish tinge, with cinereous (that is, ashy) or grey brown speckles. How many of these the bird lays no one can tell, but it has the judgment, or compassion, or whatever it may be, to give the Pipit, Hedge Sparrow, Wagtail, or other small bird so favoured, the task of rearing but one of its young, which soon grows to be quite a monster in the eyes of its foster parent, and sometimes, says the old Greek, Aristotle, eats her up; but this is just a physical impossibility, and a most vile slander. Whether the intruder, as Dr. Jenner says, shovels up with its broad back its fellow fledglings, to whom the nest rightfully belongs, and pitches them over the edge to die miserably of cold and starvation, while he gets the whole of the food brought by the provident mother, we cannot say, but may hope, for the credit of bird nature, that this too may be a mistake, if not a fable.
The Cuckoo is an elegantly-formed and agreeably-coloured bird, the prevailing tints of its plumage being a greenish grey, fading off into white, which is barred and mottled with silky brown; the large tail is spotted and edged with white. The male resembles the female; the young at first have bars of light red and olive brown about the upper parts.
KINGFISHER.
COMMON KING, OR KINGFISHER. GLAS Y DORIAN OF THE ANCIENT BRITISH.
FIGURE 15.
The Kingfishers belong to the order called Jaculatrices, or Darters, and to the family Alcedinæ; so they are Alcedine birds. These terms are not very easy of explanation. Alcedo hispida is the name of the Common Kingfisher. The second term may mean either rough, or hairy, or wet, all of which are quite applicable to this bird, which must be familiar to many of our readers; for although by no means common in any part of Britain, and very rare in the north, it is yet to be found, all the year through, in most parts of the country where there are streams of water, and river banks, and moist meadows suited to its habits, which are solitary. It generally nestles in holes in the declivities near to its favourite hunting ground—the clear stream, fringed with reeds and bulrushes, which glides away over pebbles that shine like gold and silver, and weeds as green as emeralds, or red as rubies, amid which dart the minnows and other small fish, on which, together with aquatic insects, the gorgeously-painted fisher feeds. You may see him in some quiet out-of-the-way place, beneath the shade of the grey alders, sitting motionless as a statue upon a branch of an old thorn, that projects over the stream. It may be that a ray of sunshine finds its way between the shivering branches, and out flash the glorious tints of its plumage—red, and green, and blue, and all changeable colours. Truly he is the monarch of fishing birds, and rightly named Kingfisher! Not handsome in form, certainly not elegant, nor well proportioned—with his short squat body and stump of a tail, thick neck, large head, and immense bill, little feet, that seem meant for a Sparrow, and eyes which, although bright and sharp enough, are much too small for the head. But he is a swift flier, for all that he looks so awkward; and see! quick as light he darts down upon that heedless fish that has come too near the surface, swallows it at a gulp, and is ready for another dart before you can look round you.
The eggs of our Common Kingfisher are what is termed broadly ovate in shape, that is, they are nearly round, not tapering out much, as some eggs do; they are simply white and semi (that is half) transparent. The number is generally six or seven. They are laid some time in May, in a hole, often that of the water-rat, sometimes on the bare earth, but more frequently on a layer of small fish bones; now and then on a little dried grass. The note of the bird is sharp, shrill, and piping, like that of the Sandpipers, but is not often uttered.