Chaps. 33-50.

Chap. 33.—Foreign Birds Which Visit Us; the Quail, the Glottis, the Cychramus, and the Otus.

Having spoken of the emigration of these birds over sea and land, I cannot allow myself to defer mentioning some other birds of smaller size, which have the same natural instinct: although in the case of those which I have already mentioned, their very size and strength would almost seem to invite them to such habits. The quail, which always arrives among us even before the crane, is a small bird, and when it has once arrived, more generally keeps to the ground than flies aloft. These birds fly also in a similar manner to those I have already spoken of, and not without considerable danger to mariners, when they come near the surface of the earth: for it often happens that they settle on the sails of a ship, and that too always in the night: the consequence of which is, that the vessel often sinks. These birds pursue their course along a tract of country with certain resting-places. When the south wind is blowing, they will not fly, as that wind is always humid, and apt to weigh them down. Still, however, it is an object with them to get a breeze to assist them in their flight, the body being so light, and their strength so very limited: hence it is that we hear them make that murmuring noise as they fly, it being extorted from them by fatigue. It is for this reason also, that they take to flight more especially when the north wind is blowing, having the ortygometra [The “mother of the quails.” Frederic II., in his work, De Arte Venandi, calls the “rallus,” or “rail,” the “leader of the quails.”] for their leader. The first of them that approaches the earth is generally snapped up by the hawk. When they are about to return from these parts, they always invite other birds to join their company, and the glottis, otus, and cychramus, yielding to their persuasions, take their departure along with them.

The glottis [From γλωττὰ, “a tongue.” It is not known what bird is alluded to.] protrudes a tongue of remarkable length, from which circumstance it derives its name: at first it is quite pleased with the journey, and sets out with the greatest ardour; very soon, however, when it begins to feel the fatigues of the flight, it is overtaken by regret, while at the same time it is equally as loth to return alone, as to accompany the others. Its travels, however, never last more than a single day, for at the very first resting-place they come to, it deserts: here too it finds other birds, which have been left behind in a similar manner in the preceding year. The same takes place with other birds day after day. The cychramus, [Bellon thinks that this is the proyer, or prayer, of the French; Aldrovandus considers it to be the ortolan.] however, is much more persevering, and is quite in a hurry to arrive at the land which is its destination: hence it is that it arouses the quails in the night, and reminds them that they ought to be on the road.

The otus is a smaller bird than the horned owl, though larger than the owlet; it has feathers projecting like ears, whence its name. Some persons call it in the Latin language the “asio;” [Gesner suggests from “asinus,” an “ass;” its feathers sticking up like the ears of that animal. Dalechamps thinks it is because its voice resembles the braying of an ass; the name “otus” is from the Greek for “ear.”] in general it is a bird fond of mimicking, a great parasite, and, in some measure, a dancer as well. Like the owlet, it is taken without any difficulty; for while one person occupies its attention, another goes behind, and catches it.

If the wind, by its contrary blasts, should begin to prevent the onward progress of the flight, the birds immediately take up small stones, or else fill their throats with sand, and so contrive to ballast themselves as they fly. The seeds of a certain venomous plant [Either hemlock or hellebore.] are most highly esteemed by the quails as food; for which reason it is that they have been banished from our tables; in addition to which, a great repugnance is manifested to eating their flesh, on account of the epilepsy, [“Despui suetum.” See B. xxviii. c. 7. As Hardouin says, in modern times they are considered delicate eating; but Schenkius, Obsers. Med. B. i., states, that if the bird has eaten hellebore, epilepsy is the consequence to the person who partakes of its flesh.] to which alone of all animals, with the exception of man, the quail is subject.

Chap. 34. (24.)—Swallows.

The swallow, the only bird that is carnivorous among those which have not hooked talons, takes its departure also during the winter months; but it only goes to neighbouring countries, seeking sunny retreats there on the mountain sides; sometimes they have been found in such spots bare and quite unfledged. This bird, it is said, will not enter a house in Thebes, because that city has been captured so frequently; nor will it approach the country of the Bizyæ, on account of the crimes committed there by Tereus. [See B. iv. c. 18.] Cæcina [A friend of Augustus, sent by him with proposals to Antony, B.C. 41.] of Volaterræ, a member of the equestrian order, and the owner of several chariots, used to have swallows caught, and then carried them with him to Rome. Upon gaining a victory, he would send the news by them to his friends; for after staining them the colour [The colour of the “factio,” or “party” of charioteers. See p..] of the party that had gained the day, he would let them go, immediately upon which they would make their way to the nests they had previously occupied. Fabius Pictor also relates, in his Annals, that when a Roman garrison was being besieged by the Ligurians, a swallow which had been taken from its young ones was brought to him, in order that he might give them notice, by the number of knots on a string tied to its leg, on what day succour would arrive, and a sortie might be made with advantage.

Chap. 35.—Birds Which Take Their Departure from Us, and Whither They Go; the Thrush, the Blackbird, and the Starling—Birds Which Lose Their Feathers During Their Retirement—The Turtle-dove and the Ring-dove—The Flight of Starlings and Swallows.

In a similar manner also, the blackbird, the thrush, and the starling take their departure to neighbouring countries; but they do not lose their feathers, nor yet conceal themselves, as they are often to be seen in places where they seek their food during the winter: hence it is that in winter, more especially, the thrush is so often to be seen in Germany. It is, however, a well-ascertained fact, that the turtle-dove conceals itself, and loses its feathers. The ring-dove, also, takes its departure: and with these too, it is a matter of doubt whither they go. It is a peculiarity of the starling to fly in troops, as it were, and then to wheel round in a globular mass like a ball, the central troop acting as a pivot for the rest. Swallows are the only birds that have a sinuous flight of remarkable velocity; for which reason it is that they are not exposed to the attacks of other birds of prey: these too, in fine, are the only birds that take their food solely on the wing.

Chap. 36. (25.)—Birds Which Remain with Us Throughout the Year; Birds Which Remain with Us Only Six or Three Months; Witwalls and Hoopoes.

The time during which birds show themselves differs very considerably. Some remain with us all the year round, the pigeon, for instance; some for six months, such as the swallow; and some, again, for three months only, as the thrush, the turtle-dove, and those which take their departure the moment they have reared their young, the witwall [Galgulus.] and the hoopoe, for instance.

Chap. 37. (26.)—The Memnonides.

There are some authors who say that every year certain birds [Cuvier suggests, that these birds may have been the Tringa pugnax of Linnæus and Buffon, the males of which engage in most bloody combats with each other on the banks of rivers, in spring.] fly from Æthiopia to Ilium, and have a combat at the tomb of Memnon there; from which circumstance they have received from them the name of Memnonides, or birds of Memnon. Cremutius states it also as a fact, ascertained by himself, that they do the same every fifth year in Æthiopia, around the palace of Memnon.

Chap. 38.—The Meleagrides.

In a similar manner also, the birds called meleagrides [No doubt, as Cuvier says, this was the Numida meleagris of Linnæus, Guinea hen, or pintada. Cuvier remarks that they are very pugnacious birds.] fight in Bœotia. They are a species of African poultry, having a hump on the back, which is covered with a mottled plumage. These are the latest among the foreign birds that have been received at our tables, on account of their disagreeable smell. The tomb, however, of Meleager has rendered them famous.

Chap. 39. (27.)—The Seleucides.

Those birds are called seleucides, which are sent by Jupiter at the prayers offered up to him by the inhabitants of Mount Casius, [See B. v. c. 22.] when the locusts are ravaging their crops of corn. Whence they [Cuvier suggests, that these birds may have been of the starling genus, perhaps the Tardus roseus of Linnæus.] come, or whither they go, has never yet been ascertained, as, in fact, they are never to be seen but when the people stand in need of their aid.

Chap. 40. (28.)—The Ibis.

The Egyptians also invoke their ibis against the incursions of serpents; and the people of Elis, their god Myiagros, [The “hunter of flies.”] when the vast multitudes of flies are bringing pestilence among them; the flies die immediately the propitiatory sacrifice has been made to this god.

Chap. 41. (29.)—Places in Which Certain Birds Are Never Found.

With reference to the departure of birds, the owlet, too, is said to lie concealed for a few days. No birds of this last kind are to be found in the island of Crete, and if any are imported thither, they immediately die. Indeed, this is a remarkable distinction made by Nature; for she denies to certain places, as it were, certain kinds of fruits and shrubs, and of animals as well; it is singular that when introduced into these localities they will be no longer productive, but die immediately they are thus transplanted. What can it be that is thus fatal to the increase of one particular species, or whence this envy manifested against them by Nature? What, too, are the limits that have been marked out for the birds on the face of the earth?

Rhodes [Suetonius says, that when Tiberius was staying at Rhodes, an eagle perched on the roof of his house; such a bird having never been seen before on the island.] possesses no eagles. In Italy beyond the Padus there is, near the Alps, a lake known by the name of Larius beautifully situate amid a country covered with shrubs; and yet this lake is never visited by storks, nor, indeed, are they ever known to come within eight miles of it; while, on the other hand, in the neighbouring territory of the Insubres [See B. iii. c. 21.] there are immense flocks of magpies and jackdaws, the only [It is still noted for its thieving propensities; witness the English story of the Maid and the Magpie, and the Italian opera of “La Gazza Ladra.” Cicero says, “They would no more trust gold with you, than with a jackdaw.” See also Ovid’s Met. B. vii. It is the Corvus pica of Linnæus.] bird that is guilty of stealing gold and silver, a very singular propensity.

It is said that in the territory of Tarentum, the woodpecker of Mars is never found. It is only lately too, and that but very rarely, that various kinds of pies have begun to be seen in the districts that lie between the Apennines and the City; birds which are known by the name of “variæ,” [“Mottled pies.”] and are remarkable for the length of the tail. It is a peculiarity of this bird, that it becomes bald every year at the time of sowing rape. The partridge does not fly beyond the frontiers of Bœotia, into Attica; nor does any bird, in the island [See B. iv. c. 12.] in the Euxine in which Achilles was buried, enter the temple there consecrated to him. In the territory of Fidenæ, in the vicinity of the City, the storks have no young nor do they build nests: but vast numbers of ringdoves arrive from beyond sea every year in the district of Volaterræ. At Rome, neither flies nor dogs ever enter the temple of Hercules in the Cattle Market. There are numerous other instances of a similar nature in reference to all kinds of animals, which from time to time I feel myself prompted by prudent considerations to omit, lest I should only weary the reader. Theophrastus, for example, relates that even pigeons, as well as peacocks and ravens, have been introduced from other parts into Asia, [Asia Minor, most probably. The assertion, though supported by Theophrastus, is open to doubt.] as also croaking frogs [See B. viii. c. 3.] into Cyrenaica.

Chap. 42.—The Various Kinds of Birds Which Afford Omens by Their Note—Birds Which Change Their Colour and Their Voice.

There is another remarkable fact too, relative to the birds which give omens by their note; they generally change their colour and voice at a certain season of the year, and suddenly become quite altered in appearance; a thing that, among the larger birds, happens with the crane only, which grows black in its old age. From black, the blackbird changes to a reddish colour, sings in summer, chatters in winter, and about the summer solstice loses its voice; when a year old, the beak also assumes the appearance of ivory; this, however, is the case only with the male. In the summer, the thrush is mottled about the neck, but in the winter it becomes of one uniform colour all over.

Chap. 43.—The Nightingale.

The song of the nightingale is to be heard, without intermission, for fifteen days and nights, continuously, [It was the nightingale that was said to be “Vox et præterea nihil;” “A voice, and nothing else.”] when the foliage is thickening, as it bursts from the bud; a bird which deserves our admiration in no slight degree. First of all, what a powerful voice in so small a body! its note, how long, and how well sustained! And then, too, it is the only bird the notes of which are modulated in accordance with the strict rules of musical science. [As there may be different opinions on the meaning of the various parts of this passage, it is as well to transcribe it for the benefit of the reader, the more especially as, contrary to his usual practice, Pliny is here in a particularly discursive mood. “Nunc continuo spiritu trahitur in longum, nunc variatur inflexo, nunc distinguitur conciso, copulatur intorto, promittitur revocato, infuscatur ex inopinato, interdum et secum ipse murmurat, plenus, gravis, acutus, creber, extentus; ubi visum est, vibrans, summus, medius, imus.”] At one moment, as it sustains its breath, it will prolong its note, and then at another, will vary it with different inflexions; then, again, it will break into distinct chirrups, or pour forth an endless series of roulades. Then it will warble to itself, while taking breath, or else disguise its voice in an instant; while sometimes, again, it will twitter to itself, now with a full note, now with a grave, now again sharp, now with a broken note, and now with a prolonged one. Sometimes, again, when it thinks fit, it will break out into quavers, and will run through, in succession, alto, tenor, and bass: in a word, in so tiny a throat is to be found all the melody that the ingenuity of man has ever discovered through the medium of the invention of the most exquisite flute: so much so, that there can be no doubt it was an infallible presage of his future sweetness as a poet, when one of these creatures perched and sang on the infant lips of the poet Stesichorus.

That there may remain no doubt that there is a certain degree of art in its performances, we may here remark that every bird has a number of notes peculiar to itself; for they do not, all of them, have the same, but each, certain melodies of its own. They vie with one another, and the spirit with which they contend is evident to all. The one that is vanquished, often dies in the contest, and will rather yield its life than its song. The younger birds are listening in the meantime, and receive the lesson in song from which they are to profit. The learner hearkens with the greatest attention, and repeats what it has heard, and then they are silent by turns; this is understood to be the correction of an error on the part of the scholar, and a sort of reproof, as it were, on the part of the teacher. Hence it is that nightingales fetch as high a price as slaves, and, indeed, sometimes more than used formerly to be paid for a man in a suit of armour.

I know that on one occasion six thousand sesterces [francs, Ajasson says.] were paid for a nightingale, a white one it is true, a thing that is hardly ever to be seen, to be made a present of to Agrippina, the wife of the Emperor Claudius. A nightingale has been often seen that will sing at command, and take alternate parts with the music that accompanies it; men, too, have been found who could imitate its note with such exactness, that it would be impossible to tell the difference, by merely putting water in a reed held crosswise, and then blowing into it, a languette being first inserted, for the purpose of breaking the sound and rendering it more shrill. [Something very similar to this, we often see practised by the water-warblers in our streets.] But these modulations, so clever and so artistic, begin gradually to cease at the end of the fifteen days; not that you can say, however, that the bird is either fatigued or tired of singing; but, as the heat increases, its voice becomes altogether changed, and possesses no longer either modulation or variety of note. Its colour, too, becomes changed, and at last, throughout the winter, it totally disappears. The tongue of the nightingale is not pointed at the tip, as in other birds. It lays at the beginning of the spring, six eggs at the most.

Chap. 44.—The Melancoryphus, the Erithacus, and the Phœnicurus.

The change is different that takes place in the ficedula, [Cuvier supposes that this is one of the fly-catchers; the “Muscicapa atricapilla” of Linnæus, which changes in appearance entirely after the breeding season.] for this bird changes its shape as well as its colour. “Ficedula” is the name by which it is called in autumn, but not after that period; for then it is called “melancoryphus.” [The “black-head.”] In the same manner, too, the erithacus [Cuvier thinks that this is the wall nightingale, the Motacilla phœnicurus of Linnæus, which is not seen in winter. On the other hand, the Motacilla rubecula of Linnæus, or red-throat, is only seen during the winter, and being like the other bird, may have been taken for it, and named “phœnicurus.”] of the winter is the “phœnicurus” of the summer. The hoopoe also, according to the poet Æschylus, changes its form; it is a bird that feeds upon filth [This is not the case. Aristotle only says that it builds its nest of human ordure; a story probably without any foundation, but still prevalent among the French peasantry.] of all kinds, and is remarkable for its twisted top-knot, which it can contract or elevate at pleasure along the top of the head.

Chap. 45.—The Œnanthe, the Chlorion, the Blackbird, and the Ibis.

The œnanthe, [It has not been identified with precision. Pliny, B. xviii. c. 69 calls it a small bird. Some make it the popinjay; others, with more probability, the lapwing. Horace, B. iii. Ode 27, mentions it as the parra, a bird of ill omen.] too, is a bird that has stated days for its retreat. At the rising of Sirius it conceals itself, and at the setting of that star comes forth from its retreat: and this it does, a most singular thing, exactly upon both those days. The chlorion, [The Oriolus luteus, or witwall, according to Linnæus.] also, the body of which is yellow all over, is not seen in the winter, but comes out about the summer solstice.

(30.) The blackbird is found in the vicinity of Cyllene, in Arcadia, with white [White blackbirds (if we may employ the paradox) are a distinct variety, according to Cuvier, to be found in various countries, though but rarely.] plumage; a thing that is the case nowhere else. The ibis, in the neighbourhood of Pelusium [This is from Herodotus, but it is incorrect. The black, or rather green ibis, Cuvier says, the Scolopax falcinellus of Linnæus, is found not only near Pelusium, but all over the south of Europe.] only is black, while in all other places it is white.

Chap. 46. (31.)—The Times of Incubation of Birds.

The birds that have a note, with the exception of those previously mentioned, [He alludes to the nightingale, mentioned in c. 43.] do not by any chance produce their young before the vernal or after the autumnal equinox. As to the broods produced before the summer solstice, it is very doubtful if they will survive, but those hatched after it thrive well.

Chap. 47. (32.)—The Halcyones: The Halcyon Days That Are Favourable to Navigation.

It is for this that the halcyon [The king-fisher, or Alcedo ispida of Linnæus. There is no truth whatever in this favourite story of the ancients.] is more especially remarkable; the seas, and all those who sail upon their surface, well know the days of its incubation. This bird is a little larger than a sparrow, and the greater part of its body is of an azure blue colour, with only an intermixture of white and purple in some of the larger feathers, while the neck [In copying from Aristotle, he has put “collum,” by mistake, for “rostrum,” the “beak.”] is long and slender. There is one kind that is remarkable for its larger size and its note; the smaller ones are heard singing in the reed-beds. It is a thing of very rare occurrence to see a halcyon, and then it is only about the time of the setting of the Vergiliæ, and the summer and winter solstices; when one is sometimes to be seen to hover about a ship, and then immediately disappear. They hatch their young at the time of the winter solstice, from which circumstance those days are known as the “halcyon days:” during this period the sea is calm and navigable, the Sicilian sea in particular. They make their nest during the seven days before the winter solstice, and sit the same number of days after. Their nests [This bird in reality builds no nest, but lays its eggs in holes on the water side. The objects taken for its nest are a zoophyte called halcyonium by Linnæus, as Cuvier informs us, and similar in shape to a nest.] are truly wonderful; they are of the shape of a ball slightly elongated, have a very narrow mouth, and bear a strong resemblance to a large sponge. It is impossible to cut them asunder with iron, and they are only to be broken with a strong blow, upon which they separate, just like foam of the sea when dried up. It has never yet been discovered of what material they are made; some persons think that they are formed of sharp fish-bones, as it is on fish that these birds live. They enter rivers also; their eggs are five in number.

Chap. 48.—Other Kinds of Aquatic Birds.

The sea-mew also builds its nest in rocks, and the diver [Or didapper.] in trees as well. These birds produce three at the very most; the sea-mew in summer, the diver at the beginning of spring.

Chap. 49. (33.)—The Instinctive Cleverness Displayed by Birds in the Construction of Their Nests. The Wonderful Works of the Swallow. The Bank-swallow.

The form of the nest built by the halcyon reminds me also of the instinctive cleverness displayed by other birds; and, indeed, in no respect is the ingenuity of birds more deserving of our admiration. The swallow builds its nest of mud, and strengthens it with straws. If mud happens to fail, it soaks itself with a quantity of water, which it then shakes from off its feathers into the dust. It lines the inside of the nest with soft feathers and wool, to keep the eggs warm, and in order that the nest may not be hard and rough to its young when hatched. It divides the food among its offspring with the most rigid justice, giving it first to one and then to another. With a remarkable notion of cleanliness, it throws out of the nest the ordure of the young ones, and when they have grown a little older, teaches them how to turn round, and let it fall outside of the nest.

There is another [The first is the common chimney swallow. This latter one, Cuvier says, is either the window swallow, the Hirundo urbica of Linnæus, or else the martinet, the Hirundo apus of Linnæus.] kind of swallow, also, that frequents the fields and the country; its nest is of a different shape, though of the same materials, but it rarely builds it against houses. The nest has its mouth turned straight upwards, and the entrance to it is long and narrow, while the body is very capacious. It is quite wonderful what skill is displayed in the formation of it, for the purpose of concealing the young ones, and of presenting a soft surface for them to lie upon. At the Heracleotic Mouth of the Nile in Egypt, the swallows present an insuperable obstacle to the inroads of that river, in the embankment which is formed by their nests in one continuous line, nearly a stadium in length; a thing that could not possibly have been effected by the agency of man. In Egypt, too, near the city of Coptos, there is an island sacred to Isis. In the early days of spring, the swallows strengthen the angular corner of this island with chaff and straw, thus fortifying it in order that the river may not sweep it away. This work they persevere in for three days and nights together, with such unremitting labour, that it is a well-known fact that many of them die with their exertions. This, too, is a toil which recurs regularly for them every year.

There is, again, a third kind [The bank swallow, or Hirundo riparia of Linnæus.] of swallow, which makes holes in the banks of rivers, to serve for its nest. The young of these birds, reduced to ashes, are a good specific against mortal maladies of the throat, and tend to cure many other diseases of the human body. These birds do not build nests, and they take care to migrate a good many days before, if it so happens that the rise of the river is about to reach their holes.

Chap. 50.—The Acanthyllis and Other Birds.

Belonging to the genus of birds known as the “vitiparræ,” there is one [Cuvier thinks that this is either the remiz, the Parus pendulinus of Linnæus, or else the moustache, the Parus biarmicus of Linnæus.] whose nest is formed of dried moss, [Not moss, Cuvier says, but blades of grass, and the silken fibres of the poplar and other aquatic trees.] and is in shape so exactly like a ball, that it is impossible to discover the mouth of it. The bird, also, that is known as the acanthyllis, [Cuvier thinks that it is the same bird as the vitiparra of Pliny.] makes its nest of a similar shape, and interweaves it with pieces of flax. The nest of one of the woodpeckers, very much like a cup in shape, is suspended by a twig from the end of the branch of a tree, so that no quadruped may be able to reach it. It is strongly asserted, that the witwall [Galgulus.] sleeps suspended by its feet, because it fancies that by doing so it is in greater safety. A thing, indeed, that is well-known of them all, is the fact that, in a spirit of foresight, they select the projecting branches of trees that are sufficiently strong, for the purpose of supporting their nests, and then arch them over to protect them from the rain, or else shield them by means of the thickness of the foliage.

In Arabia there is a bird known as the “cinnamolgus.” [This story, in all its extravagance, is related first by Herodotus, and then by Aristotle, who has reduced it to its present dimensions, as given by Pliny.] It builds its nest with sprigs of cinnamon; and the natives knock them down with arrows loaded with lead, in order to sell them. In Scythia there is a bird, the size of the otis, which produces two young ones always, in a hare’s skin suspended [Cuvier suggests that, if at all based upon truth, this may have been the case in one instance, and then ascribed to the whole species.] from the top branches of a tree. Pies, when they have observed a person steadily gazing at their nest, will immediately remove their eggs to another place. This is said to be accomplished in a truly wonderful manner, by such birds as have not toes adapted for holding and removing their eggs. They lay a twig upon two eggs, and then solder them to it by means of a glutinous matter secreted from their body; after which, they pass their neck between the eggs, and so forming an equipoise, convey them to another place.