The observation of birds is in many cases closely allied with the last method of divination; for naturally the peasant as he goes on his way is as quick to notice the birds as any other object which he encounters. But since auspices may also be taken under other conditions, it will be well to observe the old line of demarcation, and to treat this branch of augury, as it was treated in ancient handbooks[819], separately. Moreover the attitude of the modern folk towards these two branches of divination justifies the division. The superstitions which I have just recorded are somewhat blindly and unintelligently held; but in the taking of auspices proper the ordinances of ancient lore which the people follow are felt by them to be doubly sanctioned—by reason as well as by antiquity; they apprehend the theory on which their practice is based—the idea that birds are better suited than any other animate thing, by virtue both of their rapid flight and of their keen and extended vision, to be the messengers between gods and men.
In practice this branch of divination is still concerned chiefly with the large and predatory birds to which alone was originally applied the term οἰωνός. ‘The largest, the strongest, the most intelligent, and at the same time those whose solitary habits gave them more individual character,’ says a French writer[820], ‘were deliberately preferred by the diviners of antiquity as the subjects of their observation. For these and these only was reserved at first the name οἰωνός, “solitary bird[821],” or bird of presage’; and he goes on to suggest that the Oriental belief in the magical power of blood to revivify the souls of the dead and to stimulate prophecy influenced the selection for a prophetic rôle of carnivorous birds such as might indeed often feed on the entrails of those very victims from which sacrificial omens were taken. But the reasons assigned by Plutarch for the pre-eminence of birds among all other things as the messengers of heaven apply with so special a force to the special class of birds selected, that it seems unnecessary to search out reasons more abstruse.
‘Birds,’ he says[822], ‘by their quickness and intelligence and their alertness in acting upon every thought, are a ready instrument for the use of God, who can prompt their movements, their cries and songs, their pauses or wind-like flights, thus bidding some men check, and others pursue to the end, their course of action or ambitions. It is on this account that Euripides calls birds in general “heralds of gods,” while Socrates speaks of making himself “a fellow-servant with swans.”’
In this special class of ominous birds the principal group, says the same French writer[823], was composed of the eagle (ἀετός), the messenger[824] of Zeus, the ‘most perfect of birds[825]’; the vulture (γύψ), which closely rivalled even the king of birds[826]; the raven (κόραξ), the favourite and companion of Apollo, a bird so much observed that there were specialists (κορακομάντεις) who studied no other species; and the carrion-crow (κορώνη), transferred from the service of Apollo to that of Hera[827] or Athene[828]. These, it may safely be said, were observed at all periods. Of others, various species of hawk (ἵεραξ, ἴρηξ)—in particular that known as κίρκος, acting in Homeric times as the ‘swift messenger of Apollo[829]’ and thus rivalling the raven—and with them the heron[830] (ἐρωδιός) enjoyed in early times great respect, but gradually fell out of favour with the augur. But as these disappeared from the canon of ornithological divination, certain other birds were admitted, the wren[831] (τρόχιλος or βασιλίσκος), the owl (γλαῦξ)[832], the κρέξ dubiously identified with our ‘rail’ (crex rallus, Linn.), and the woodpecker (δρυοκολάπτης).
The continuity of the art of taking auspices is at once obvious when it is found that the birds which the modern peasant most frequently observes are of the very same class which furnished the Homeric gods with their special envoys. Eagles, vultures, hawks, ravens, crows—these are still the chief messengers of heaven, and only one other bird can claim equality with them, that bird which in classical times symbolised wisdom, the owl.
Of the methods pursued by the professional augurs in ancient Greece unfortunately less is known. The best treatise on the subject is that of Michael Psellus[833], written in the eleventh century; but probably ancient works on the subject, such as that of Telegonus to which Suidas[834] refers, were then extant and contributed the bulk of his information. But even so it is the broad principles rather than the detailed application of them which Psellus presents, and on them we must in the main rely in comparing the modern science with the ancient.
First of all the species of bird under observation had to be ascertained; for the characters of different species were held to be so various that birds as closely cognate as the raven and the crow employed wholly contrary methods of communication with mankind. ‘If as we go out of our house to work,’ says Psellus[835], ‘we hear the cry of a raven behind or of a crow in front, it forebodes anxieties and difficulties in our business, while if a crow fly past and caw on the left or a raven do likewise on the other side, it gives hope and confidence.’ The crow then was not subject even to the rule concerning right and left which applied, so far as I know, to all other birds, but, thanks to some innate contrariety, reversed the normal significance of position, and therewith also of cry and of flight[836]. Such exceptions even to the most general rules made the accurate identification of species an indispensable preliminary to successful augury. The same primary condition still holds. The diviner must be able to distinguish the cawing of a crow settled on his roof from that of a jackdaw; the former is an omen of death, as perhaps it was in Hesiod’s day[837], to some member of his family, the latter heralds the coming of a letter from a friend abroad. Again he must be able to distinguish the brown owl (κουκουβάγια) from the tawny owl (χαροποῦλι)[838]; the message of the former may be good or bad, as we shall see, according to its actions, while the latter brings only presages of woe.
The species having been identified, there remained, according to Psellus[839], four possible points in the behaviour of the bird itself (all of them liable to be modified in significance by the position of the observer) to be noticed and interpreted; these were its cry (anciently φωνή or κλαγγή), its flight (πτῆσις), its posture when settled (ἕδρα or καθέδρα), and any movement or action performed by it while thus settled (ἐνέργεια). These divisions are still recognised in modern augury.
The cry is observed in the case of many birds. The scream of an eagle is a warning of fighting or conflict to come. The croak of a raven, especially if it be thrice repeated, while the bird is flying over a house or a village, is a premonition of death to one of the inmates. The laugh of the woodpecker, owing I suppose to its mocking sound, is a sign that an intrigue against some one’s person or pocket is in train. The repeated call of the cuckoo within the bounds of a village forebodes an epidemic therein.
Flight is chiefly observed in the case of the birds of prey. The successful swoop of an eagle upon its prey, or the rapid determined flight of a hawk in pursuit of some other bird, is an encouragement to the observer (provided of course that the birds are seen on his right hand) to pursue untiringly any enterprise in which he is engaged, and is a promise of success and profit therein. In Scyros I once pointed out to my guide a large hawk chasing a flock of pigeons, which he at once hailed as a good omen and watched carefully as long as it was in sight; and when I asked him what kind of hawk it was, he promptly replied that that kind was known as τσίκρος—the goshawk, I believe. This word is a modern form of the ancient κίρκος[840], and a closely similar incident is mentioned in the Odyssey, when this bird, the ‘swift messenger of Apollo,’ is seen by Telemachus on the right, tearing a pigeon in its talons and scattering its feathers to the ground, and is taken to foreshow the fate that awaits Eurymachus[841].