THE NIGHTINGALE.
Motacilla Luscinia, Linnæus; Le Rossignol, Buffon; Die Nachtigall, Bechstein.
This bird, whose plumage is very ordinary, is scarcely five inches long, two and a half of which belong to the tail. But, in confinement, when it is well fed, and especially when it has been bred from the nest, it is commonly larger, reaching sometimes the size of a lark. The straight beak is seven lines in length, thin, with the two mandibles of nearly the same size, and dark brown above, light gray below, flesh-coloured at the base, and yellow within; the iris is brownish grey. The shanks, three quarters of an inch high, are flesh-coloured; the upper part of the body is brownish gray, tinted with rust-red, and in very old birds is reddish ash-coloured.
Among individuals in confinement, some are lighter, others darker. When placed in the windows of a large well-lighted room, which is not exposed to smoke, they are in the upper parts dark gray, or light brownish gray, and the feathers have a reddish edge; below they are white, and grayish on the sides. But those which are shut up in small ill-lighted rooms, subject to smoke, soon lose their colours, the upper part of the body becoming dingy red, the under part grayish white, and the sides brownish gray.
Those accustomed to birds distinguish the female at a glance. Her shanks are not so high: she is not so erect; her head is not so long and pointed, but rounder; her neck is shorter, and more inclined back; her eye is smaller and less lively; and her throat is not so white. Notwithstanding these characteristics, no other than an experienced person could decide the sex unless he had them both before him.
Nightingales so strongly resemble the female redstart, that the latter is often caught and sold for a nightingale, while the nightingale in its turn is killed and eaten for a redstart. To avoid mistakes, we must observe the following particulars:—The female redstart is always smaller, and her plumage darker: her small feet and beak are blackish; the red of her tail is lighter, and the two middle feathers are blackish, or very dark brown; this long slender tail is in continual motion, while the nightingale moves his only at intervals, for example, when he has hopped a few steps, and he generally carries it raised higher than the point of his wings. His step and attitude are prouder, and his actions seem more deliberate. When he walks, it is by measured regular hops. After a certain number he stops, looks at himself, shakes his wings, raises his tail gracefully, spreads it a little, stoops his head several times, raises his tail again, and proceeds. If any object attracts his attention, he bends his head towards it, and generally looks at it with only one eye. It is true that he jumps hastily upon the insects which constitute his food; but he does not seize them so eagerly as other birds; on the contrary, he stops short, and seems to deliberate whether it is prudent to eat them or not. Generally he has a serious circumspect air, but his foresight is not proportioned to it, for he falls readily into all the snares which are laid for him. If he once escapes, however, he is not so easily caught again, and becomes as cunning as any other bird. The same, indeed, may be said of all birds pursued by man. Nightingales are called, in my opinion very unjustly, silly and curious; for a great number of new things may be offered them without exciting the least attention; but scratch or dig the earth, and they approach directly, because instinct or experience tells them that they shall there find insects, which they are very fond of. Many other species of this group do the same thing; for instance, the blackcap and the red-breast, without its having been mentioned. These birds do not, however, deserve so much of our attention as the nightingale.
Habitation.—When wild, nightingales are found throughout Europe, as far as the north of England and the middle of Sweden: in all Asia, as far as the temperate regions of Siberia; and in Africa on the banks of the Nile. They every where choose for their residence places which are shady, cool, but not cold, such as woods, thickets, and even mere hedges in the fields. They do not go beyond the skirts of the forests on high chains of mountains, and never stop on elevations where the air is too keen. Groves, thick brambles, tufted bushes near fields and meadows, are their favourite abodes. They also like gardens planted with untrimmed elm-hedges, which are consequently thick and bushy down to the ground. It is not true that they like watery situations, and if they frequent them it is not for the water, but because they generally produce thick tufted bushes. It must also be owned that their favourite food is more constantly abundant in such places, and if the cold destroys the insects elsewhere, plenty may always be found in them. It is not however the less certain that the water is not the attraction, or all would repair to its vicinity, which experience contradicts. The fact is, that each nightingale generally establishes himself in the place which gave him birth, whether near the water or not, whether in an orchard or on a mountain; and when once he has fixed on a spot, he returns to it every year, unless the place has lost its charm or advantage. If the wood for instance has been cut down, or has lost the thick shade, which was its chief merit, in such circumstances he seeks in the neighbourhood another spot more to his liking. But if, in a considerable circuit where no change has taken place, a nightingale is seen to establish himself in a spot which was unoccupied the preceding year, it may be concluded that it is a young bird which was born in the vicinity. Convenient places are so much valued, that if the possessors die or are caught, new comers seize upon them immediately; so that the bird which we hear to-day, is very possibly not the same which sang yesterday in the same place. Many other causes may also concur in producing this change of inhabitants, which an ear well versed in the language of these birds will always discover.
It may, perhaps, be asked why, in many places which appear so well adapted to attract nightingales, none are found73. I reply that these spots may be concealed by woods or mountains, and not lie perceived by the nightingales in their journeys, or they may be quite out of their route, for they have a regular one which they never quit, because, their progress being slow, and subject to interruptions, it is requisite that they should find on their passage every thing necessary for their subsistence, and too cold an atmosphere is painful to them. It may also happen that the nightingales which formerly frequented them, may have been altogether extirpated; and as it has been said that the young always establish themselves in the district which gave them birth, it is by no means surprising that they should not be chosen, at least there are many chances against it. Rather than wait in vain for this chance, there is a means of re-peopling such places with these charming birds. It is only necessary to bring up some broods of young ones, and not let them loose in the following spring till after the period of return is elapsed; because being no longer excited by the instinct which induces them to travel, and the instinct itself being subdued in a great measure by their imprisoned education, they will not wander, but will remain and propagate, provided they are not disturbed, and will return the year following with all their family. I must not omit to say that the young intended for this re-peopling must not be confined in a cage, as they would lose the use of their wings, and run the risk of perishing the first day of their liberation. As soon as they can feed themselves, they must be allowed an entire room, in which they may fly freely, and grow strong and bold. A sort of grove should be formed of branches or small trees, and nature should be imitated as much as possible also in feeding them, by throwing to them more insects and ants’ eggs than usual, to accustom them to seek for them.
The period of the nightingale’s return throughout the greater part of Germany, is the middle of April, rarely either earlier or later74: it is always when the white-thorn begins to expand its leaves. Advancing slowly and gradually, these birds are not so likely to suffer from bad weather as those which go straight to their destination by one stage. In the middle of August each family prepares to depart; this is done quietly, removing gradually, and passing from grove to grove to the end of their journey; then it is that these birds are caught with nooses or springes, by using elderberries or currants for a bait. The middle of September is the latest period at which they are seen in Germany. All then disappear imperceptibly, so that the time they employ in the rest of their journey is altogether unknown. Other birds, whose instinct leads them to travel in large flights, do not so easily escape observation. If by accident a nightingale is met with at the end of September, or in October, it must have been delayed by some peculiar circumstance; for instance, it may be a young one that has lost its way, or that was hatched late, or it may be an invalid.
In confinement nightingales may be allowed to fly freely, as I have often permitted them; but they do not then sing so well as when in a cage, where they are less subject to interruptions, and where also they live longer and more healthily, from being fed with more care and regularity. The nightingale’s cage, of whatever form, must not be less than a foot and a half in length, by about one in width, and one or more in height. The top should be made of linen or soft stuff, that when jumping and struggling, especially when first caught, he may not injure his head. The drinking-cup and feeding-trough are fastened on the outside, unless it is preferred to introduce the latter within, in the form of a drawer. The following are the best form and proportions for a nightingale’s cage, that I am acquainted with:—Length, one foot and a half; breadth, eight inches; height, fifteen inches in the middle; thirteen at the sides, because the roof is arched. The sides are made of osiers about a quarter of an inch thick; the bottom is made of the same material, but it is covered by a drawer an inch and a quarter in depth. In order to clean it more easily, I cover it with coarse paper, which I renew every time. The feeding-trough is introduced on one side, with edges high enough to prevent the bird’s spilling too much of the food. In the middle of the front of the cage, and extending from top to bottom, is a cylindrical projection in the form of a belfry, in which is suspended a large drinking-glass. The upper stick of the cage is confined here, terminating in a fork, or fixed to a semi-circle, that the projection may not be prevented from moving. This projection is made of osiers, like the rest of the cage. The middle and lower sticks are covered with green cloth, firmly sewed on, that the nightingale may have a softer perch, and not have his feet so soon injured, which is very common with imprisoned birds. The arched roof is also covered with green stuff, which is painted that colour with oil paint, as well as the whole of the cage. But it must be well dried, and quite free from smell before the bird is put into it.
My reasons for preferring this cage are, first, because being small, it occupies less room, without disadvantage to the bird or to the apartment; second, because the size of the osiers leave small intervals for the admission of light, and it is consequently darker; third, because the bird can bathe without wetting his cage or his perches: and consequently his feet remain cleaner and more healthy.
As to the situation of the cage, the prisoner’s taste must be consulted. Some nightingales dislike being in the window, and prefer a dark corner of the room; others like the light and the sun. If it is wished that a nightingale should sing everywhere, it is necessary, when he is moulting, and before he resumes his song, to accustom him to a change of place, by carrying him sometimes here, sometimes there. Some will sing only when they are alone, while others like to perform alternately with a neighbour; but they never sing so loud and well when there are several in a room. Perhaps jealousy is the chief cause of this. On these occasions, the first that begins generally maintains the superiority; the others sing only when he stops, and this but seldom, and in an under tone. Some are so sulky that they will not sing at all. Some of these obstinate pouters are occasionally, from their silence, mistaken for females, and consequently dismissed from the room, but when they find themselves alone they begin to sing at full stretch.
Food.—When wild nightingales feed on insects, especially little green caterpillars, of which they clear the bushes and trees, small butterflies, flies, and beetles, and the grubs of insects hid among moss or in the earth, which are discovered by turning it up. At their departure, towards the end of summer, they also eat elderberries and currants.
In confinement, meal worms and fresh ants’ eggs are the first things which should be offered to birds which are just caught; in place of these, when it is not possible to procure them, some persons prepare a mixture of hard eggs, ox heart, and white bread, some mouthfuls of which they force the birds to swallow, and then throw some meal worms on the rest, to induce the nightingale to eat it; but this artificial food is so unfit for these birds, especially at first, that it kills the greater number. They may also be injured by forcibly opening their delicate beak. When ants' eggs cannot be procured, it is better to set the birds at liberty than thus to sacrifice them. Their best food in summer is ants’ eggs, to which are daily added two or three meal worms75; when none of the former remain fresh they must be supplied by dried or rather roasted ox heart and raw carrot, both grated, and then mixed with dried ants’ eggs76. The carrot, which may be preserved fresh in sand in the cellar, prevents heat in the stomach and bowels; a little lean beef or mutton minced small may also be used sometimes; after different trials, it is in this way I feed my nightingales. The cheapest food is very ripe elderberries, dried and mixed with ants’ eggs, in the same way as the carrots and white bread.
Some bird-fanciers, in winter, bake a little loaf made of the flour of peas and eggs, which they grate, moisten, and then mix with dried ants’ eggs; others, who would still be more economical, pound poppy-seeds in a mortar to express the oil, and then mix them with the crumb of white bread; when accustomed to it the birds seem very fond of it, but a proof that it does not agree with them is that they soon fall into a decline and die. This plan has lately been introduced into Thuringia; but knowing, as I do from experience, that the stomach of the nightingale is not formed to digest such food, since he is not graminivorous, I take care never to administer it; and I think I ought to warn others against it. The best will always be the simplest, and that which is most conformable to nature. Those who adopt that which I have mentioned will have the satisfaction of finding their nightingales healthy, cheerful, active, and good singers.
I have already said that I have tried letting them run about the room, feeding them upon the common universal paste; but this food is not sufficiently nutritious for them: on this diet they can hardly pass six months without falling into a decline, and they would inevitably perish if they were not speedily restored to one which is fitter for them. They require fresh water every day, as well for bathing as drinking; they habitually bathe, when caged, after singing. They have also been observed to do so the first thing in the evening, when the candles were lighted.
Breeding.—Each nightingale has his little district; and if in the pairing season several males are found together, very angry battles take place, which end in the flight of the weakest. The commonest quarrels of this kind are between fathers and sons. The latter, having been born in the place, determine to fix themselves in it; all feeling of relationship is then extinguished, and they are strangers; the relations of father and son, those sweet ties, hitherto so close, are suddenly broken, never more to be felt.
The nest is built in a grove or orchard, among a heap of branches, or on a thorn bush, or the trunk of a tree surrounded by briars; or even on the ground when it may be hid by tall grass or thick bushes. Its form is simple and inartificial, on the outside dry leaves, on the inside hay, fine roots, with the hair of animals, is all the apparatus. The female lays from four to six eggs, of a brownish green, on which she sits a fortnight. The young are fed with small caterpillars and butterflies. As the low position of the nest exposes them to become the prey of carnivorous quadrupeds, they soon quit it, even before they can fly. Their plumage before moulting has no resemblance to that of the old birds except the red of the tail; the upper part of the body is of a reddish grey, spotted with yellowish white on the head and coverts of the wings; the under part is of a rusty yellow, spotted on the breast with dark brown; but after moulting the resemblance is so perfect that they can hardly be distinguished. If, therefore, any of these birds are caught towards the end of summer, they are carefully examined on the back of the head, round the eyes, and under the beak and neck, for, provided there remains in these places a small feather, or mere yellow point, it is sufficient to ascertain that they are young. As these are the only means of judging, if no marks appear, it is necessary to wait for a few days till the bird begins to sing. This, however, is not a sure sign, as the young females sing as well as the males, till the month of April, though in a weaker and more unconnected way, and without so visibly swelling their throats: it is by these nice observations that connoisseurs succeed in distinguishing them. It may also be remarked, as a help to those who wish to rear nightingales, that, when in the nest, those which are marked with white, and especially those which have a white throat, are males; the reddest and brownest being always females. The young, when taken, are fed with ants’ eggs mixed with white bread, grated and moistened. The males begin to warble even before their tails are quite grown: if the father and mother are taken at the same time as the young ones, they will, when caged, continue to feed them as before. It is said that nightingales sometimes build in the bird room; this, however, can only succeed by giving up to a tame healthy pair a whole room, in which a sort of grove should be formed of branches.
Diseases.—In general moulting amounts to a disease among nightingales: at this critical time they require a more succulent diet, and sometimes a spider by way of purgative. If their stomach is disordered they puff up their feathers, half shut their eyes, and remain for hours with their head under their wing. They are relieved and cured by ants’ eggs, some spiders, and by giving them occasionally water impregnated with saffron till it is of an orange colour, to drink.
As to those diseases which they have in common with other birds, they are treated according to the directions given in the Introduction. It is especially necessary, every three months, carefully to remove the large scales from their legs and toes. A nightingale may be kept in confinement fifteen years; whilst in a wild state they are never observed to exist so long in the same spot, which seems to prove that they do not attain so great an age when exposed to all sorts of accidents, both from birds of prey and bird-catchers. I have an instance of a nightingale which has lived twenty-five years in confinement. When they have reached six years they begin to sing less frequently and long, with less brilliancy and ornament; it is then better to set them at liberty in the month of May. The open air often invigorates them so much that they regain their song in all its force and beauty.
Mode of Taking.—Nothing is easier than to catch a nightingale in the season of pairing. If a little furrow, smooth at the bottom, is dug in a dark soil, and some meal worms or ants’ eggs are thrown into it, he will immediately fly to these delicacies. By putting also in the same place limed twigs, or a small net which may be easily dropped, he will soon be caught; it is even sufficient to fix over the furrow a bit of wood supported by a stick, which will fall as soon as the bird perches upon it. He is so unsuspicious that he observes the snare being laid, and then foolishly falls into it, when the bird-catcher has moved only a few steps from it; he will even allow himself to be led to it when at a little distance, if in a gentle manner. A bird-catcher may thus, in a few hours, depopulate a whole district of these delightful songsters. If, however, this is feared, there is a means of baffling his intentions, by anticipating him, and catching the nightingale we wish to preserve in our neighbourhood, either by a limed twig or in a net, and letting him go again. This experiment will prevent his falling so readily into the snare in future. In the greater part of Germany, indeed, it is forbidden, under a very heavy penalty, to catch nightingales. Another mode of taking them is by nooses and springes, and suspending for a bait, instead of berries, live meal-worms; but there is one disadvantage attending it, while struggling the bird almost always injures his feet, especially in springes.
Attractive Qualities.—The first good quality of a nightingale is undoubtedly its fine voice, and notes which I shall endeavour to describe. The nightingale expresses his different emotions by suitable and particular tones. The most unmeaning cry when he is alone appears to be a simple whistle fitt, but if the syllable crr is added, it is then the call of the male to the female. The sign of displeasure or fear is fitt repeated rapidly and loudly before adding the terminating crr; whilst that of satisfaction and pleasure such, for example, as conjugal endearments, or on the occasion of finding a delicate morsel, is a deep tack, which may be imitated by smacking the tongue.
In anger, jealousy, rivalry, or any extraordinary event, he utters hoarse disagreeable sounds, somewhat like a jay or a cat. Lastly, in the season of pairing, when the male and female entice and pursue each other, from the top of a tree to its base, and thence again to the top, a gentle subdued warbling is all that is heard.
Nature has granted these tones to both sexes; but the male is particularly endowed with so very striking a musical talent, that in this respect he surpasses all birds, and has acquired the name of the king of songsters. The strength of his vocal organ is indeed wonderful; and it has been found that the muscles of his larynx are much more powerful than those of any other bird. But it is less the strength than the compass, flexibility, prodigious variety, and harmony of his voice which make it so admired by all lovers of the beautiful. Sometimes dwelling for minutes on a strain composed of only two or three melancholy tones, he begins in an under voice, and swelling it gradually by the most superb crescendo to the highest point of strength, he ends it by a dying cadence; or it consists of a rapid succession of more brilliant sounds, terminated, like many other strains of his song, by some detached ascending notes. Twenty-four different strains or couplets may be reckoned in the song of a fine nightingale, without including its delicate little variations; for among these, as among other musicians, there are some great performers and many middling ones. This song is so articulate, so speaking, that it may be very well written. The following is a trial which I have made on that of a nightingale in my neighbourhood, which passes for a very capital singer77:—
Tioû, tioû, tioû, tioû.
Spe, tiou, squa.
Tiô, tiô, tiô, tiô, tio, tio, tio, tix.
Coutio, coutio, coutio, coutio.
Squô, squô, squô, squô.
Tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzi.
Corror, tiou, squa, pipiqui.
Zozozozozozozozozozozozo, zirrhading!
Tsissisi, tsissisisisisisisis.
Dzorre, dzorre, dzorre, dzorre, hi.
Tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, dzi.
Dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo.
Quio, tr rrrrrrrr itz.
Lu, lu, lu, lu, ly, ly, ly, ly, liê, liê, liê, liê78.
Quio, didl li lulylie.
Hagurr, gurr quipio!
Coui, coui, coui, coui, qui, qui, qui, qui, gai, gui, gui, gui79
Goll goll goll goll guia hadadoi.
Couigui, horr, ha diadia dill si!
Hezezezezezezezezezezezezezezezeze couar ho dze hoi.
Quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, ti.
Ki, ki, ki, ïo, ïo, ïo, ioioioio ki.
Lu ly li le lai la leu lo, didl ïo quia.
Kigaigaigaigaigaigaigai guiagaigaigai couior dzio dzio pi.80
If we could understand the sense of these words, we should doubtless discover the expression of the sensations of this delightful songster. It is true that the nightingales of all countries, the south as well as the north, appear to sing in the same manner; there is, however, as has been already observed, so great a difference in the degree of perfection, that we cannot help acknowledging that one has a great superiority over another. On points of beauty, however, where the senses are the judges, each has his peculiar taste. If one nightingale has the talent of dwelling agreeably on his notes, another utters his with peculiar brilliancy, a third lengthens out his strain in a particular manner, and a fourth excels in the silveriness of his voice. All four may excel in their style, and each will find his admirer; and, truly, it is very difficult to decide which merits the palm of victory. There are, however, individuals so very superior as to unite all the beauties of power and melody; these are generally birds of the first breed, which, having been hatched with the necessary powers, in a district well peopled with nightingales, appropriate what is most striking in the song of each, whence results this perfect compound, so worthy of our admiration. As the return of the males in spring always precedes that of the females by seven or eight days, they are constantly heard to sing before and after midnight, in order to attract their companions on their journey during the fine nights. If their wishes are accomplished they then keep silence during the night, and salute the dawn with their first accents, which are continued through the day. Some persist in their first season in singing before and after midnight, whence they have obtained the name of nocturnal nightingales; but they cannot be distinguished till after some time, when they are established in their district, and have the society of their females. After repeated experiments for many successive years, I think I am authorised in affirming that the nocturnal and diurnal nightingales form distinct varieties, which propagate regularly: for if a young bird is taken from the nest of a night singer, he, in his turn, will sing at the same hours as his father, not the first year, but certainly in the following81; while, on the other hand, the young of a day nightingale will never sing in the night, even when it is surrounded by nocturnal nightingales. I have also remarked that the night singers prefer mountainous countries, and even mountains themselves, whilst the others prefer plains, valleys, and the neighbourhood of water. I will also venture to affirm that all the night singers found in the plains have strayed from the mountains; thus in my neighbourhood, inclosed in the first chains of the mountains of Thuringia, we hear only night singers, and in the plains of Gotha they know only the day nightingale.
It is a pity that the time for this delightful bird’s song should be so short, that is to say, when wild. It endures hardly three months; and during this short interval it is not maintained with equal power. At its first arrival it is the most beautiful, continued, and impassioned; when the young are hatched, it becomes more rare; the attentions which they require occupying considerable time. If from time to time the nightingale’e song is heard, it is evident that the fire which animated it is much weakened. After midsummer all is ended, nothing is heard but the warbling of the young, which seem to study their father’s song, and try to imitate it. The nightingale sings much longer in confinement: birds which are caught full grown sometimes sing from November to Easter; those which are bred from the nest sing much longer, sometimes as long as seven months; but in order that they may sing well they must be put under the instruction of an old nightingale which is a good singer, otherwise they will be only stammerers, mutilating their natural song, and inserting in a confused manner tones and passages which they have caught from other birds. If, however, they have a good instructor, and a good memory, they imitate perfectly, and often add to their instructor’s song some beauties of their own, as is usual among young birds82.
I cannot help here mentioning the cruel and disgusting selfishness of some men, who, in order a little to prolong the song of this interesting bird, sacrifice to their transient gratification its eyes, by blinding it, as is done to the lark and the chaffinch.
It is said that a nightingale and a female red-breast running free in the room will sometimes pair, and produce mules, but I have no experience on this subject.
I cannot better complete my account of the nightingale’s song than by transcribing the delightful, though somewhat exaggerated picture, which has been given of it by Buffon. “There is no well organised man,” says he, “to whom the name of the nightingale does not recall some one of those fine nights in spring, when the sky being clear, the air calm, all nature silent, and as it were attentive, he has listened with delight to the song of this chorister of the woods. Several singing birds may be named whose voices in some respects may compete with that of the nightingale; the lark, the canary, the greenfinch, the blackcap, the linnet, the goldfinch, the common blackbird, the solitary thrush, the American mocking-bird, are all listened to with pleasure when the nightingale is silent: some have fine tones, others have their voice as clear as it is soft, others have as fine flourishes, but there is not one which the nightingale does not surpass in the complete union of all these different talents, and in the prodigious variety of his songs; so that the song of each of the above-named birds is, when taken in its whole extent, only one couplet of that of the nightingale. The nightingale always charms, and never copies himself servilely; if he repeats any passage it is animated with a new accent, embellished by new ornaments. He succeeds in all styles, he renders all expressions, he seizes all characters, and he also augments their effect by contrast. If this Coryphæus of the spring prepares to sing a hymn to nature, he begins by a timid prelude, by faint uncertain sounds, as if he would try his instrument and interest his audience; then gaining courage he becomes gradually animated, warmed, and he soon displays in their plenitude all the resources of his incomparable organ, brilliant bursts, lively delicate trills, volleys of notes whose distinctness equals their volubility; an internal dull murmur, not itself pleasing to the ear, but very fit to enhance the brilliancy of the agreeable strains, sudden, brilliant, and rapid runs, articulated with strength, and even a tasteful ruggedness, plaintive accents, tender cadences; sounds dwelt on without art, but swelling with sentiment; enchantingly penetrating notes, the true sighs of voluptuousness and love, which seem to come from the heart, and make all hearts palpitate; which produce in all who are not insensible a delightful emotion, a touching languor. In those impassioned tones are recognised the language of sentiment which a happy husband addresses to his beloved partner, and which she alone can inspire; while in other strains, more surprising perhaps, but less expressive, are discovered the simple wish of amusing and pleasing her, or of disputing before her the prize of singing with rivals jealous of his glory and happiness.
“These different strains are interspersed with pauses which in all styles of melody concur in producing great effects. We dwell on the beautiful notes we have just heard, and which still resound in our ears; we enjoy them the more because the pleasure is more limited, more exclusive, and undisturbed by new sensations. Soon we expect, we desire another strain; we hope it may be pleasing; if we are mistaken, the beauty of what we hear will not leave us room to regret that which is only delayed, and the interest of hope is maintained for the strains which will follow. One of the reasons why the song of the nightingale is so striking, and produces so much effect, is, as Mr. Barington has well said, because he sings in the night, which is the most favourable time, and he sings alone, whereby his voice is heard in all its splendour, and is undisturbed by any other voice. He eclipses all other birds, adds Mr. Barington, by his soft flute-like tones, and by the uninterrupted duration of his warble, which lasts sometimes for twenty seconds. The same observer reckoned in this warble sixteen different strains, well marked by their first and last notes, the intermediate notes being tastefully varied by the bird; and he ascertained that the space filled by the nightingale’s voice is no less than an English mile in diameter, especially when the air is calm: this equals the compass of the human voice.
“It is surprising that so small a bird, which weighs only half an ounce, should have such force in the vocal organs. Mr. Hunter has observed that the muscles of the larynx, or gullet, are stronger in proportion, in this species, than in any other, and also stronger in the male which sings, than in the female which does not sing.
“Aristotle, and Pliny after him, say, that the song of the nightingale lasts in all its strength for fifteen days and fifteen nights uninterruptedly, at the time that the trees are putting forth their leaves; this can refer only to wild nightingales, and must not be taken literally; for these birds are not silent either before or after the period fixed by Aristotle. It is true they do not continue to sing with so much ardour and constancy. They generally begin in the month of April, and do not completely end till the month of June, about the time of the solstice; but the time when their song diminishes most, is when the young are hatched, because they are then occupied in feeding them, and in the order of instincts, that which tends to the preservation of the species is pre-eminent. Captive nightingales continue to sing for nine or ten months, and their song is sustained not only for a longer time, but it is more perfect and studied. Hence Mr. Barington infers, that in this species, and in many others, the male does not sing to amuse the female, and enliven her fatigue when sitting; which appears a very just and probable inference. Indeed, the female when she sits performs her office from an instinct, or rather a passion, stronger in her than even the passion of love; she finds in it an internal satisfaction of which we can form no idea, but which she appears to feel sensibly, and we cannot therefore suppose that at such moments she is in any want of consolation. Since then it is neither from duty nor virtue that the female sits, neither is it on that account that the male sings: indeed he does not sing during the second incubation. It is love, and especially the first season of love, which inspires the song of the bird; it is in spring that they experience the want both to love and to sing; it is the males which have most desire, and it is they who sing the most. They continue to sing during the greater part of the year if we preserve around them a perpetual spring, which incessantly renews their ardour, without affording an occasion for extinguishing it; this happens to caged nightingales, and even, as it has been already mentioned, to those which have been taken full grown. Some have been known to begin to sing with all their strength a few hours after being caught. They must, however, have been insensible of their loss of liberty at first. They would starve the first seven or eight days if they were not fed, and would injure their heads against the top of the cage if their wings were not tied; but at last the passion for singing prevails, because it is produced by a still deeper passion.
“The songs of other birds, the sounds of instruments, the tones of a sweet sonorous voice, excite them much. They run, they approach, attracted by the sweet sounds; but duets attract them still more powerfully, which would seem to prove that they are sensible to the effects of harmony. They do not continue silent auditors, they join the performance, and use all their efforts to eclipse their rivals, to surpass all the other voices, and even all other sounds. It is said that they have been known to drop down dead at the feet of a person singing. Another has been seen fluttering, swelling his throat, and uttering an angry warble every time a canary which was near him, began to sing; he succeeded by his threats in imposing silence, so true is it, that superiority is not always free from jealousy. Can it be in consequence of the passion for pre-eminence, that these birds are so careful to seize every advantage, and that they prefer singing in a place favourable to sound, or within reach of an echo?
“All nightingales do not sing equally well. Some are so very inferior as not to be worth keeping. It has even been thought that the song of the nightingale is different in different countries. In England, those who are curious respecting these birds, prefer, it is said, those of the county of Surrey, to those of Middlesex; as they prefer the greenfinch of Essex, and the goldfinch of Kent. This diversity of song among birds of the same species has very rationally been compared to the different dialects of the same language. The true causes can hardly be assigned, as they are for the most part accidental. A nightingale may perhaps have heard other singing birds, or emulation may have caused him to perfect his song, which he thus transmits improved to his descendants, for every father is the singing master of his family; and it is easy to perceive that in succeeding generations the song may be still further improved or modified by similar accidents.
“After the month of June, the nightingale sings no more, and he retains only a hoarse cry, a sort of croaking, by which the melodious Philomel cannot be recognised, and it is not surprising that formerly, in Italy, they gave him a different name under these circumstances. He is indeed another bird, a bird altogether different in respect of voice, and even, in a great degree, in respect of the colour of his plumage.
“Among nightingales, as well as other species, some females are found participating in the constitution of the male, his habits, and especially in his musical powers. I have seen, in confinement, one of these female singers. Her warble resembled that of the male, but was neither so strong nor so varied. She preserved it till spring; but then subduing the exercise of her talent to the natural duties of her sex, she became silent, in order to build her nest, and to lay, though she was solitary. It appears that, in warm countries, such as Greece, it is very common to see these female singers, and respecting this species and many others we may draw the same inference from a passage of Aristotle. One would hardly imagine that so varied a song as that of the nightingale is confined within a single octave; this is, however, the result of the attentive observations of a man of taste (M. le docteur Remond). He remarked, indeed, some sharp tones which formed the double octave, and which were emitted like lightning; but this happens rarely, and when the bird by a powerful effort of the gullet raises his voice to the octave.
“The same observer discovered shakes on the third, fourth, and octave, but always from sharp to flat; cadences, generally in the minor, on almost every note; but no arpeggios, no coherent design.”
Independent of these talents, the nightingale possesses a quality very likely to augment the number of his friends; he is capable, after some time, of forming attachments. When once he has made acquaintance with the person who takes care of him, he distinguishes his step before seeing him; he welcomes him by a cry of joy; and, during the moulting season, he is seen making vain efforts to sing, and supplying by the gaiety of his movements, and the expression of his looks, the demonstrations of joy which his throat refuses to utter. When he loses his benefactor, he sometimes pines to death; if he survives it is long before he is accustomed to another83. His attachments are long, because they are not hasty, as is the case with all wild and timid dispositions.
THE GREATER NIGHTINGALE.
Motacilla Luscinia major, Linnæus; Le Grand Rossignol, ou La Progné84, Buffon; Der Sprosser, Bechstein.
Naturalists make this bird only a variety, or at most, only a species of the common nightingale; but I find points of difference so numerous and so striking, that I think it right to make it a distinct species. 1. It is larger by an inch and a half in length, being six inches and a half, of which the tail, also half an inch longer, occupies two and three-quarters; 2. The head is larger, and the beak is thicker; 3. The colours are different; 4. The song is different. With respect to gait, manner, habits, and the like, it is true there is a resemblance, which exists, however, only in common with the white-throats, and the blackcap, which have never been considered as varieties of the nightingale.
The upper part of the body is a dusky brownish grey; the throat is white bordered with black; the breast is brown, with darker spots; the belly dirty white; the wings are deep brown, edged with dirty red; the tail and its upper large coverts dirty maroon, deeper than in the common nightingale; the whole plumage, in short, is generally and in all parts deeper and darker.
Observations.—The difference in the song is very remarkable. The greater nightingale has a much stronger, louder, and deeper voice; but it sings more slowly and more unconnectedly; it has not that astonishing variety, those charming protractions, and harmonious conclusions of the common nightingale; it mutilates all the strains; and, on this account, its song has been compared to the missel-thrush, to which, however, it is superior in softness and pureness. The common nightingale is superior in delicacy and variety, but inferior in force and brilliancy. The greater nightingale sings generally in the night, so that it is the real night-singer; while among nightingales this is rather uncommon. Its voice is so loud that it is almost impossible to bear it in a room. It is necessary to keep it always outside the window, either by hanging its cage there, or by opening from it a sort of passage into which it can remove.
Its call is also very different; hi! glack arrr! It seems also to pronounce David, Jacob, and generally begins its song by the latter word. If the song is complete, it consists of the following strains:—
Guia, gu, gu, gu.
Hajai, hajai, dzu, dzu, dzu, dzu.
Gorgué, guéguéguéguéguéh,
Hoa goigoigoi gui.
Dzicka, dzicka, dzicka.
Davitt, davitt, davitt.
Gogock, gogock.
Guedum, guedum, guedum, guedum, gueï!
Gai, goi, goi, goi, guirrrr.
Golka, golka, golka, golk.
Hia, guiaguiaguiaguia.
Glockglockglockglockglockglock.
Gueai, gueaigueai gui!
Goi, guaguaguagua guagui.
Heid, heid, heid, heid hi.
Voi dada! voi dada!
Gai, gai, gai, gai, guirr, guirr.
Hoi, gueguegue gui.
Hoi goi.
This bird is not found in any part of Thuringia. There are some in Silesia, Bohemia, Pomerania, near Wittenberg, Halle, and Dessau; but in Austria, Hungary, and Poland, they are in some districts more abundant than the common nightingale85. They generally settle among the bushes of the hills and plains, and especially near rivers. When caged they are fed like nightingales. They are less delicate, however, and live much longer.
They are chiefly brought from Vienna to Thuringia, whence they have the name of Vienna Nightingales. Some people make a business of fetching them from Hungary, in the beginning of April, where they buy them cheap, in order to sell them very dear, in Saxony and other remote provinces. Those from Hungary are preferred to the Polish. A distinguishing characteristic is, that they first pronounce the davitt or jacob only once when they call; while the second repeat davitt many times in succession.
At Thorn, and all along the Vistula, where the common and the large nightingale equally abound, the latter is called the Polish Nightingale, and the former, the Nightingale of Saxony. The nest of the greater nightingale is built like that of the nightingale; but the eggs are larger, and of an olive brown, with dark shades.
These birds are caught like nightingales; their diseases, also, are similar; but they appear to suffer still more when moulting; they become dull and ill, and often die under it. It is usual to give them at this crisis some spiders, and the grubs which gnaw wood; what, however, after many experiments, appears most salutary, is the Golden Tincture of Halle86, one or two drops of which are poured into the drinking-trough.
THE BLACKCAP.
Sylvia atricapilla, Bechstein; La Fauvette à tête noire, Buffon; Die schwarzköpfige Grasmücke, Bechstein.
This distinguished singer among birds, bears, in Germany, the name of Monk, or Moor, from the black or brown cap which covers the top of his head. These two colours have led some to divide them into two species, but it is quite certain that they only designate the sex; the black marking the male, and the brown the female. Its length is five inches and five-sixths, two and a half of which belong to the tail. The beak is five lines in length, formed like that of the nightingale, and is of a brownish blue, with the edges of the lower base and the interior of a yellowish white; the iris maroon; the feet ten lines high, are dark ash-colour; all the top of the head is black; the cheeks and upper part of the neck are light ash-colour; the upper part of the body, as well as the coverts of the wings, ash-colour, tending to olive; the under part of the body is light grey, fading to white under the belly and breast; the sides and thighs are the same colour as the back; the under coverts of the tail and wings are speckled gray and white; the pen-feathers and tail-feathers are dark brown, edged with the colour of the back.
The female is rather larger; her cap is reddish brown; the upper part of her body reddish grey, tending to olive; the cheeks and throat are light grey; the breast, the sides, and the thighs, are light grey, varying to light olive; the belly is reddish white.
The silky plumage of this bird is so delicate and frail, that it is rare to see one in confinement, whether hopping freely, or caged, which has not its tail or its wings disfigured.