The history of birds follows next, the very largest of which, and indeed almost approaching to the nature of quadrupeds, is the ostrich of Africa or Æthiopia. This bird exceeds in height a man sitting on horseback, and can surpass him in swiftness, as wings have been given to aid it in running; in other respects ostriches cannot be considered as birds, and do not raise themselves from the earth. They have cloven talons, very similar to the hoof of the stag; with these they fight, and they also employ them in seizing stones for the purpose of throwing at those who pursue them.[164] They have the marvellous property of being able to digest every substance without distinction, but their stupidity is no less remarkable; for although the rest of their body is so large, they imagine, when they have thrust their head and neck into a bush, that the whole of the body is concealed. Their eggs are prized on account of their large size, and are employed as vessels for certain purposes, while the feathers of the wing and tail are used as ornaments for the crest and helmet of the warrior.
Æthiopia and India, more especially, produce birds of diversified plumage, and such as quite surpass all description. In the front rank of these is the phœnix,[165] that famous bird of Arabia; though I am not quite sure that its existence is not all a fable. It is said that there is only one in existence in the whole world, and that that one has not been seen very often. We are told that this bird is of the size of an eagle, and has a brilliant golden plumage around the neck, while the rest of the body is of a purple color; except the tail, which is azure, with long feathers intermingled of a roseate hue; the throat is adorned with a crest, and the head with a tuft of feathers. The first Roman who described this bird, and who has done so with the greatest exactness, was the senator Manilius, so famous for his learning, which he owed to the instructions of no teacher. He tells us that no person has ever seen this bird eat, that in Arabia it is looked upon as sacred to the sun, that it lives five hundred and forty years, that when it becomes old it builds a nest of cassia and sprigs of incense, which it fills with perfumes, and then lays its body down upon them to die; that from its bones and marrow there springs at first a sort of small worm, which in time changes into a little bird: that the first thing that it does is to perform the obsequies of its predecessor, and to carry the nest entire to the city of the Sun near Panchaia, and there deposit it upon the altar of that divinity.
The same Manilius states also, that the revolution of the great year[166] is completed with the life of this bird, and that then a new cycle comes round again with the same characteristics as the former one, in the seasons and the appearance of the stars; and he says that this begins about mid-day of the day on which the sun enters the sign of Aries. He also tells us that when he wrote to the above effect, in the consulship of Licinius and Cornelius, it was the two hundred and fifteenth year of the said revolution. Cornelius Valerianus says that the phœnix took its flight from Arabia into Egypt in the consulship of Plautius and Papinius. This bird was brought to Rome in the censorship of the Emperor Claudius, being the eight hundredth year from the building of the City, and it was exposed to public view in the Comitium. This fact is attested by the public Annals, but there is no one who supposes that it was a genuine phœnix.
Of all the birds with which we are acquainted, the eagle is looked upon as the most noble, and the most remarkable for its strength. There are six different kinds; the one called “melanaetos” or black eagle by the Greeks, and “valeria” in our language, the least in size of them all, but the most remarkable for its strength, is of a blackish color. It is the only one among all the eagles that feeds its young; for the others, as we shall presently mention, drive them away; it is the only one too that has neither cry nor murmur; it is an inhabitant of the mountains. The second kind is the pygargus (white tail), an inhabitant of the cities and plains, and distinguished by the whiteness of its tail. The third is the morphnos; it is the second in size and strength, and dwells in the vicinity of lakes. Phemonoë, who was styled the “daughter of Apollo,” has stated that this eagle has teeth, but that it has neither voice nor tongue; she says also that it is the blackest of all the eagles, and has a longer tail than the rest; Bœus is of the same opinion. This eagle has the instinct to break the shell of the tortoise by letting it fall from aloft, a circumstance which caused the death of the poet Æschylus. An oracle, it is said, had predicted his death on that day by the fall of a house, upon which he took the precaution of trusting himself only under the canopy of the heavens.
BALD, OR WHITE-HEADED EAGLE.—Haliaëtus Leucocephalus.
The fourth kind of eagle is the “percnopterus” (black wing), with much the appearance of the vulture, having remarkably small wings, while the rest of the body is larger than the others; but it is of a timid and degenerate nature, so that even a raven can beat it. It is always famishing and ravenous, and has a plaintive, murmuring cry. It is the only one among the eagles that will carry off the dead carcass; the others settle on the spot where they have killed their prey. The character of this species causes the fifth one to be known by the distinctive name of “gnesios,” as being the genuine eagle, and the only one of untainted lineage; it is of moderate size, of rather reddish color, and rarely to be met with. The haliætus or sea-eagle is the last, and is remarkable for its bright and piercing eye. It poises itself aloft, and the moment it catches sight of a fish in the sea below, pounces headlong upon it, and cleaving the water with its breast, carries off its prey.
The eagle which we have mentioned as forming the third species, pursues the aquatic birds in the vicinity of standing waters: in order to make their escape they plunge into the water every now and then, until at length they are overtaken by lassitude and sleep, upon which the eagle immediately seizes them. The contest that takes place is really a sight worthy to be seen. The bird makes for the shore to seek a refuge, especially if there should happen to be a bed of reeds there; while in the mean time the eagle endeavors to drive it away with repeated blows of its wings, and tumbles into the water in its attempts to seize it. While it is standing on the shore its shadow is seen by the bird, which immediately dives beneath, and then making its way in an opposite direction, emerges at some point at which it thinks it is the least likely to be looked for. This is the reason why these birds swim in flocks, for when in large numbers they are in no danger from the enemy; as by dashing up the spray with their wings they blind him.
Again, it often happens that the eagle is not able to carry the bird aloft on account of its weight, and in consequence they both of them sink together. This and the haliætus beat their young ones while in an unfledged state, with their wings, and force them from time to time to look steadily upon the rays of the sun; and if the parent sees either of them wink, or even its eye water, it throws it headlong out of the nest, as being spurious and degenerate, but rears the one whose gaze remains fixed and steady.
Eagles build among rocks and trees; they lay three eggs, and generally hatch but two young ones, though occasionally as many as three have been seen. Being weary of the trouble of rearing both, they drive one of them from the nest: for just at this time the providential foresight of Nature has denied them a sufficiency of food, to save the young of all other animals from becoming their prey. During this period, their talons become reversed, and their feathers grow white from continued hunger, so that it is not to be wondered at that they take a dislike to their young. The ossifrage, however, a kindred species, takes charge of the young ones thus rejected, and rears them with its own; but the parent bird still pursues them with hostility, even when grown up, and drives them away, as being its rivals in rapine. Under any circumstances, one pair of eagles requires a very considerable space of ground to forage over, in order to find sufficient sustenance; for which reason they mark out by boundaries their respective allotments. They do not immediately carry off their prey, but first deposit it on the ground, test its weight and then fly away with it.
They die, not of old age, nor yet of sickness, or of hunger; but the upper part of the beak grows to such an extent, and becomes so curved, that they are unable to open it. They take the wing, and begin upon the labors of the chase at midday; sitting in idleness during the hours of the morning, until such time as the places of public resort are filled with people. It is said that this is the only bird that has never been killed by lightning; hence usage has pronounced it to be the armor-bearer of Jove.
Caius Marius, in his second consulship, assigned the eagle exclusively to the Roman legions. Before that period it had only held the first rank, over four others, the wolf, the minotaur, the horse, and the wild boar, each of which preceded a single division. Some few years before his time it had begun to be the custom to carry only the eagle into battle, the other standards being left behind in camp; but Marius abolished the rest of them entirely. Since then, it has been remarked that hardly ever has a Roman legion encamped for the winter, without a pair of eagles making their appearance at the spot.
The first two species of eagle not only prey upon the whole of the smaller quadrupeds, but will attack even deer. Rolling in the dust, the eagle covers its body all over with it, then perching on the antlers of the animal, shakes the dust into its eyes, while at the same time it beats it on the head with its wings, until the creature at last precipitates itself down the rocks. Nor is this one enemy sufficient for it; it has still more terrible combats with the dragon, and the issue is much more doubtful, although the battle is fought in the air. The dragon seeks the eggs of the eagle with a mischievous avidity; while the eagle, in return, carries it off whenever it happens to see it; upon these occasions, the dragon coils itself about the wings of the bird in multiplied folds, until at last they fall to the earth together.
MARTIAL EAGLE.—Spizáëtus bellicosus.
There is a very famous story about an eagle at the city of Sestos. Having been reared by a little girl, it used to testify its gratitude for her kindness, first by bringing her birds, and in due time various other kinds of prey: at last she died, upon which the bird threw itself on the lighted pile, and was consumed with her body. In memory of this event, the inhabitants raised upon the spot what they called a heroic monument, in honor of Jupiter and the damsel, the eagle being a bird consecrated to that divinity.
Of the vultures, the black ones are the strongest. No person has yet found a vulture’s nest: so that some have thought, though erroneously, that these birds come from the opposite hemisphere. The fact is, that they build their nest upon the very highest rocks; their young ones are often to be seen, generally two in number. Umbricius, the most skilful among the aruspices of our time, says that the vulture lays three eggs, and that with one of these it purifies the others and its nest, and then throws it away: he states also that they hover about for three days, over the spot where carcasses are about to be found.
We find no less than sixteen kinds of hawks mentioned; among these are the ægithus, which is lame of one leg, and is looked upon as the most favorable omen for the augurs on the occasion of a marriage, or in matters connected with property in the shape of cattle. There is a Roman family that has taken its surname from the species known as the “buteo,” from the circumstance of this bird having given a favorable omen by settling upon the ship of one of them when he held a command. The Greeks call one kind “epileus;” the only one that is seen at all seasons of the year, the others taking their departure in the winter.
The various kinds are distinguished by the avidity and the various methods with which they seize their prey; for while some will pounce on a bird only on the ground, others will seize it only while hovering round the trees; others, again, while it is perched aloft, and others while it is flying in mid-air. Pigeons, on seeing them, are aware of the nature of the danger to which they are exposed, and either settle on the ground or else fly upwards, instinctively protecting themselves by taking due precautions against their natural propensities.
In the part of Thrace which lies above Amphipolis, men and hawks go in pursuit of prey, in a sort of partnership; for while the men drive the birds from out of the woods and the reed-beds, the hawks bring them down as they fly; and after they have taken the game, the fowlers share it with them. It has been said, that when sent aloft, they will pick out the birds that are wanted, and that when the opportune moment for taking them has come, they invite the fowler to seize the opportunity by their cries and their peculiar mode of flying. Hawks will not eat the heart of a bird. The night-hawk is called cybindis; it is rarely found, even in the woods, and in the day-time its sight is not good; it wages war to the death with the eagle, and they are often to be found clasped in each other’s talons.
GROUP OF FALCONS.
The cuckoo seems to be but another form of the hawk,[167] which at a certain season of the year changes its shape; it being the fact that during this period no other hawks are to be seen, except, perhaps, for a few days; the cuckoo itself is only seen for a short period in the summer, and does not make its appearance after. It is the only one among the hawks that has not hooked talons; neither is it like the rest of them in the head, or in any other respect, except the color, while in the beak it bears a stronger resemblance to the pigeon. In addition to this, it is devoured by the hawk, if they chance at any time to meet; this being the only one among the whole race of birds that is preyed upon by those of its own kind. It changes its voice also with its appearance, comes out in the spring, and goes into retirement at the rising of the Dog-star. It always lays its eggs in the nest of another bird,—mostly a single egg, a thing that is the case with no other bird; sometimes however, but very rarely, it is known to lay two. It is supposed, that the reason for its thus substituting its young ones, is the fact that it is aware how greatly it is hated by all the other birds;[168] for even the very smallest of them will attack it. So, thinking that its own race will stand no chance of being perpetuated unless it contrives to deceive them, it builds no nest of its own: and, besides, it is a very timid animal. In the mean time, the female bird, sitting on her nest, is rearing a supposititous and spurious progeny; while the young cuckoo, which is naturally craving and greedy, snatches away all the food from the other young ones, and by so doing grows plump and sleek, and quite gains the affections of his foster-mother; who takes a great pleasure in his fine appearance, and is quite surprised that she has become the mother of so handsome an offspring. In comparison with him, she discards her own young as so many strangers, until at last, when the young cuckoo is now able to take the wing, he finishes by devouring her.[169] For sweetness of the flesh, there is not a bird in existence to be compared to the cuckoo at this season.
The kite, which belongs to the same genus, is distinguished from the rest of the hawks by its larger size. It has been remarked of this bird, extremely ravenous as it is, and always craving, that it has never been known to seize any food either from among funeral oblations or from the altar of Jupiter at Olympia; nor does it ever seize any of the consecrated viands from the hands of those who are carrying them; except where some misfortune is presaged for the town that is offering the sacrifice. These birds seem to have taught man the art of steering, from the motion of the tail, Nature pointing out by their movements in the air the method required for navigating the deep. Kites also disappear during the winter months, but do not take their departure before the swallow.
The crow, among other kinds of food, feeds upon nuts. If these prove too hard for his beak to break, the crow flies to a great height, and then lets them fall again and again upon the stones and tiles beneath, until at last the shell is cracked, and the bird is able to open them. The crow is a bird of a very ill-omened garrulity, though it has been highly praised by some. It is observed, that from the rising of the constellation Arcturus until the arrival of the swallow, it is rarely to be seen about the sacred groves and temples of Minerva, and in Athens not at all. It is the only bird that continues to feed its young for some time after they have begun to fly. The crow is most inauspicious at the time of incubation, or, in other words, just after the summer solstice.
All the other birds of the same kind—like the raven, for example—drive their young ones from their nest, and compel them to fly. In small hamlets there are never more than two pairs to be found; and in the neighborhood of Crannon, in Thessaly, never more than one, the parents always quitting the spot to give place to their offspring. Ravens are the only birds that seem to have any comprehension of the meaning of their auspices; for when the guests of Medus were assassinated, they all took their departure from Peloponnesus and the region of Attica. They are of the very worst omen when they swallow their voice, as if they were being choked.
The birds of the night—the owlet, the horned owl, and the screech-owl—have crooked talons, and the sight of all is defective in the day-time. The horned owl is especially funereal, and is greatly abhorred in all auspices of a public nature; it inhabits desolate spots of a frightful and inaccessible nature: the monster of the night, its voice is heard, not with any tuneful note, but emitting a sort of shriek. It is therefore looked upon as a direful omen to see it in a city. I know, however, for a fact, that it is not portentous of evil when it settles on the top of a private house. It cannot fly whither it wishes in a straight line, but is always carried forward by a sidelong movement. A horned owl entered the very sanctuary of the Capitol, in the consulship of Palpelius and Pedanius; in consequence of which, Rome was purified on the nones of March in that year.
An inauspicious bird also is that known as the “incendiary,” on account of which we find in the Annals, the City has had to be repeatedly purified; as, for instance, in the consulship of Cassius and Marius, in which year also it was purified, in consequence of a horned owl being seen. What kind of bird this incendiary[170] was, we do not find stated, nor is it known by tradition. Some persons explain the term this way; they say that the name “incendiary” was applied to every bird that was seen carrying a burning coal from the pyre, or altar.
The owlet shows considerable shrewdness in its engagements with other birds; for when surrounded by too great a number, it throws itself on its back, resists with its feet, and rolling up its body into a mass, defends itself with the beak and talons, until the hawk, attracted by a certain natural affinity, comes to its assistance, and takes its share in the combat. Nigidius says that the owlet has nine different notes.
There are some small birds which have hooked talons; the woodpecker, for example, surnamed “of Mars,” of considerable importance in the auspices. To this kind belong the birds which make holes in trees, and climb stealthily up them, like cats; mounting with the head upwards, they tap against the bark, and learn by the sound whether or not their food lies beneath; they are the only birds that hatch their young in the hollows of trees. It is a common belief, that if a shepherd drives a wedge into their holes, they apply a certain kind of herb and it immediately falls out. Trebius informs us that if a nail or wedge is driven with ever so much force into a tree in which these birds have made their nest, it will instantly fly out, the tree making a loud cracking noise the moment that the bird has lighted upon the nail or wedge.
These birds have held the first rank in auguries, in Latium, since the time of the king who has given them their name.[171] One of the presages that was given by them, I cannot pass over in silence. A woodpecker came and lighted upon the head of Ælius Tubero, the City prætor, when sitting on his tribunal dispensing justice in the Forum, and showed such tameness as to allow itself to be taken with the hand; upon which the augurs declared that if it was let go, the state was menaced with danger, but if killed, disaster would befall the prætor; in an instant he tore the bird to pieces, and before long the omen was fulfilled.[172]
Many birds of this kind feed also on acorns and fruit, but only those which are not carnivorous, with the exception of the kite; though when it feeds on anything but flesh, it is a bird of ill omen.
The birds which have hooked talons are never gregarious; each one seeks its prey by itself. They nearly all of them soar to a great height, with the exception of the birds of the night, and more especially those of larger size. They all have large wings, and a small body; they walk with difficulty, and rarely settle upon stones, being prevented from doing so by the curved shape of their talons.
We shall now speak of the second class of birds employed in augury, which is divided into two kinds; those which give omens by their note, and those which afford presages by their flight. The variation of the note in the one, and the relative size in the other, constitute the differences between them. The peacock shall have precedence of all the rest, as much for its singular beauty as its superior instinct, and the vanity it displays.
When it hears itself praised, this bird spreads out its gorgeous colors, especially if the sun happens to be shining at the time, because then they are seen in all their radiance, and to better advantage. At the same time, spreading out its tail in the form of a shell, it throws the reflection upon the other feathers, which shine all the more brilliantly when a shadow is cast upon them; then at another moment it will contract all the eyes depicted upon its feathers in a single mass, manifesting great delight in having them admired by the spectator. The peacock loses its tail every year at the fall of the leaf, and a new one shoots forth in its place at the flower season; between these periods the bird is abashed and moping, and seeks retired spots. The peacock lives twenty-five years, and begins to show its colors in the third. By some authors it is stated that this bird is not only a vain creature, but of a spiteful disposition, just as they attribute bashfulness to the goose. The characteristics, however, which they have thus ascribed to these birds, appear to me to be utterly unfounded.
The orator Hortensius was the first Roman who had peacocks killed for the table; it was on the occasion of the banquet given by him on his inauguration in the college of the priesthood. Marcus Aufidius Lurco was the first who taught the art of fattening them, about the time of the last war with the Pirates. From this source of profit he acquired an income of sixty thousand sesterces.
Next after the peacock, the animal that acts as our watchman by night, and which Nature has produced for the purpose of arousing mortals to their labors, and dispelling their slumbers, shows itself most actuated by feelings of vanity. The cock knows how to distinguish the stars, and marks the different periods of the day, every three hours, by his note. These animals go to roost with the setting of the sun, and at the fourth watch of the camp recall man to his cares and toils. They do not allow the rising of the sun to creep upon us unawares, but by their note proclaim the coming day, and they prelude their crowing by clapping their sides with their wings. They exercise a rigorous sway over the other birds of their kind, and, in every place where they are kept, hold the supreme command. This, however, is only obtained after repeated battles among themselves, as they are well aware that they have weapons on their legs, produced for that very purpose, and the contest often ends in the death of both the combatants at the same moment. If, on the other hand, one of them obtains the mastery, he instantly by his note proclaims himself the conqueror, and testifies by his crowing that he has been victorious; while his conquered opponent silently slinks away, and, though with a very bad grace, submits to servitude. And with equal pride does the throng of the poultry yard strut along, with head uplifted and crest erect. These, too, are the only ones among the winged race that repeatedly look up to the heavens, with the tail raised aloft, which in its drooping shape resembles that of a sickle, and these birds inspire terror even in the lion, the most courageous of all animals.
Some of these birds, known as game-cocks, are reared for nothing but warfare and perpetual combats, and have even shed a lustre thereby on their native places, Rhodes and Tanagra. The next rank is considered to belong to those of Melos and Chalcis. Hence, it is with very good reason that the consular purple of Rome pays these birds such singular honors. From the feeding of these creatures the omens by fowls are derived; they regulate day by day the movements of our magistrates, and open or shut to them their own houses, as the case may be; they give an impulse to the fasces of the Roman magistracy, or withhold them; they command battles or forbid them, and furnish auspices for victories to be gained in every part of the world. It is these that hold supreme rule over those who are themselves the rulers of the earth, and whose entrails and fibres are as pleasing to the gods as the first spoils of victory. Their note, when heard at an unusual hour or in the evening, has also its peculiar presages; for, on one occasion, by crowing the whole night through for several nights, they presaged to the Bœotians that famous victory which they gained over the Lacedæmonians; such, in fact, being the interpretation that was put upon it by way of prognostic, as this bird, when conquered, is never known to crow.
The goose also keeps a vigilant guard; a fact which is well attested by the defence of the Capitol, at a moment when, by the silence of the dogs, the commonwealth had been betrayed: for which reason the Censors always, as their first duty, attend to the farming-out of the feeding of the sacred geese. One might almost be tempted to think that these creatures have an appreciation of wisdom: for it is said, that one of them was the constant companion of the philosopher, Lacydes, and would never leave him, either in public or when at the bath, by night or by day.
Our people, however, are more wise; for they esteem the goose only for the excellence of its liver. When they are crammed, this grows to a very large size, and, on being taken from the animal, is made still larger by being soaked in honeyed milk. It is matter of debate who first discovered so great a delicacy; whether it was Scipio Metellus, a man of consular dignity, or Marcus Seius, a contemporary of his, and a Roman of equestrian rank. But there is no dispute that it was Messalinus Cotta, the son of the orator Messala, who first discovered the art of roasting the webbed feet of the goose, and of cooking them in a ragout with cocks’ combs.
A second income is derived from the feathers of the white goose. In some places, this animal is plucked twice a year, upon which the feathers quickly grow again. Those are the softest which lie nearest to the body, and those that come from Germany are the most esteemed: the geese there are white, but of small size. The price paid for their feathers is five denarii per pound. It is from this fruitful source that we have repeated charges brought against the commanders of our auxiliaries, who are in the habit of detaching whole cohorts from the posts where they ought to be on guard, in pursuit of these birds: indeed, we have come to such a pitch of effeminacy, that now-a-days, not even the men can think of lying down without the aid of the goose’s feathers, by way of pillow.
The tracts over which the cranes travel must be immense, if we only consider that they come all the way from the Eastern Sea. These birds agree by common consent at what moment they shall set out, fly aloft to look out afar, select a leader for them to follow, and have sentinels duly posted in the rear, which relieve each other by turns, utter loud cries, and with their voice keep the whole flight in proper array. During the night, they place sentinels on guard, each of whom holds a little stone in its claw: if the bird should happen to fall asleep, the claw becomes relaxed, and the stone falls to the ground, and so convicts it of neglect. The rest sleep in the mean while, with the head beneath the wing, standing first on one leg and then on the other: the leader looks out, with neck erect, and gives warning when required. These birds, when tamed, are very frolicsome, and even when alone will describe a sort of circle, as they move along, with their clumsy gait.
It is a well-known fact, that these birds, when about to fly over the Euxine, first of all repair to the narrowest part of it, that lies between the two Promontories of Criumetopon and Carambis, and then ballast themselves with coarse sand. When they have arrived midway in the passage, they throw away the stones from out of their claws, and, as soon as they reach the mainland, discharge the sand from the throat.
Cornelius Nepos, who died in the reign of the late Emperor Augustus, after stating that thrushes had been fattened for the first time shortly before that period, has added that storks were more esteemed as food than cranes; but at the present day, this last bird is one of those that are held in the very highest esteem, while no one will touch the other.
Up to the present time it has not been ascertained from what place the storks come, or whither they go when they leave us. There can be no doubt but that, like the cranes, they come from a very great distance, the cranes being our winter, the storks our summer, guests. When about to take their departure, the storks assemble at a stated place, and are particularly careful that all shall attend, so that not one of their kind may be left behind, with the exception of such as may be in captivity or tamed; and then on a certain day they set out, as though they were by some law directed to do so. No one has ever yet seen a flight of cranes taking their departure, although they have been often observed preparing to depart; and in the same way, too, we never see them arrive. Both their departure and their arrival take place in the night. In some of the vast plains of Asia, they assemble together, keep up a gabbling noise, and tear to pieces the one that happens to arrive the last; after which they take their departure. After the middle of August, they are never by any accident to be seen there.
Some writers assure us that the stork has no tongue. So highly are they esteemed for their utility in destroying serpents, that in Thessaly, it was a capital crime for any one to kill a stork, and by the laws the same penalty was inflicted for it as for homicide.
STORK.—Ciconia Alba.
Geese and swans travel in a similar manner, but are seen to take their flight. The flocks, forming a point like a harrow, much after the manner of our Liburnian beaked galleys, move along with great impetus, being thus able to cleave the air more easily than if they presented to it a broad front. The flight gradually enlarges in the rear, in the form of a wedge, presenting a vast surface to the breeze, as it impels them onward; those that follow place their necks on those that go before, while the leading birds, as they become weary, fall to the rear. Storks return to their former nests, and the young, in their turn, support their parents when old. It is stated that at the moment of the swan’s death, it gives utterance to a mournful song;[173] but this is an error, in my opinion. These birds will eat the flesh of one another.
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 before the crane, is a small bird, which more commonly keeps to the ground than flies aloft. These birds fly 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, in such numbers 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, the body being so light, and their strength so very limited: and frequently we hear them make a murmuring noise as they fly, it being extorted from them by fatigue. For this reason they take to flight when the north wind is blowing, having the ortygometra[174] 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 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 ardor; but very soon, 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 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 is much more persevering, and is in such a hurry to arrive at the land which is its destination, 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, which gives it its name. Some persons call it in the Latin language the “asio;” 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[175] are most highly esteemed by the quails as food; for which reason they have been banished from our tables; and a great repugnance is manifested to eating their flesh, on account of the epilepsy, to which alone of all animals, with the exception of man, the quail is subject.
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 goes only to neighboring 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. Cæcina, 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 color 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 succor would arrive, and a sortie might be made with advantage.
In a similar manner also, the blackbird, the thrush, and the starling take their departure to neighboring countries; but they do not lose their feathers, nor 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, yet it is a matter of doubt whither they go. A peculiarity of the starling is 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; so that they are not exposed to the attacks of other birds of prey: these are the only birds that take their food solely on the wing.
The time during which birds show themselves differs very considerably. Some, like the pigeon, remain with us all the year round, some for six months, such as the swallow; and some again, for three months only, as the thrush, the turtledove, and those which take their departure the moment they have reared their young, like the witwall and the hoopoe.
There are some authors who say that every year certain birds 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.
In a similar manner, the birds called meleagrides fight in Bœotia. They are a species of African poultry, having a hump on the back 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.
Those birds are called seleucides, which are sent by Jupiter at the prayers offered up to him by the inhabitants of Mount Casius, when the locusts are ravaging their crops of corn. Whence they 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.
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 after the propitiatory sacrifice has been made to this god.
Rhodes possesses no eagles. In Italy beyond the Padus, there is, near the Alps, a lake known by the name of Larius, beautifully situated amid a country covered with shrubs; and yet this lake is never visited by storks, nor are they ever known to come within eight miles of it; while in the neighboring territory of the Insubres there are immense flocks of magpies and jackdaws, the only 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, and that very rarely, that various kinds of pies have begun to be seen in the districts that lie between the Apennines and the City. These birds are remarkable for the length of the tail and for the peculiarity of becoming bald every year at the time of sewing rape. The partridge does not fly beyond the frontiers of Bœotia, into Attica; nor does any bird, in the island in the Black Sea 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 Hies 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.
There is another remarkable fact, too, relative to the birds which give omens by their note; they generally change their color 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 color, 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; but only in the case of the male. In summer, the thrush is mottled about the neck, but in winter it becomes of one uniform color all over.
The song of the nightingale is to be heard, without intermission, for fifteen days and nights, continuously, 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 it has 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. At one moment, as it sustains its breath, it will prolong its note, and then at another, will vary it with different inflections; 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 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, 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, 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.
No doubt there is a remarkable degree of art in its performances, for every individual has a number of notes peculiar to itself; 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. Often the one that is vanquished, dies in the contest, preferring to yield its life rather than its song. The younger birds are listening, in the mean time, 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. Nightingales bring as high a price as slaves, and sometimes more than used formerly to be paid for a man in a suit of armor.
I know that on one occasion six thousand sesterces ($250) was paid for a nightingale, a white one it is true, a thing that is hardly ever to be seen, for a present 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. 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 color, 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.
This bird is a little larger than a sparrow, and the greater part of its body is of an azure blue color, with a slight intermixture of white and purple in some of the larger feathers, while the neck 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 are truly wonderful;[176] 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.
The sea-mew builds its nest in rocks, and the diver in trees as well.
The form of the nest built by the halcyon reminds me also of the instinctive cleverness displayed by other birds; and, 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.
There is a kind of swallow 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, 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 labor, that many of them die with their exertions.
A third kind of swallow 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.
Belonging to the genus of birds known as the “vitiparræ,” there is one whose nest is formed of dried moss,[177] and is in shape so exactly like a ball, that it is impossible to discover the mouth of it. The bird known as the acanthyllis, 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 sleeps suspended by its feet, because it fancies that by doing so it is in greater safety. In a spirit of foresight, they select 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,” which builds its nest with sprigs of cinnamon; the natives knock the nests 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 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 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.
No less shrewdness is displayed by those birds which make their nests upon the ground, because, from the extreme weight of their body, they are unable to fly aloft. There is a bird, known as the “merops,” which feeds its parents in their retreat: the color of the plumage is pale on the inside, and azure without, while it is of a somewhat reddish hue at the extremity of the wings: this bird builds its nest in a hole which it digs to the depth of six feet.
Partridges fortify their retreat so well with thorns and shrubs, that it is effectually protected against beasts of prey. They make a soft bed for their eggs by burying them in the dust, but do not hatch them where they are laid: that no suspicion may arise from the fact of their being seen repeatedly about the same spot, they carry them away to some other place. The females also conceal themselves in order that they may not be delayed in the process of incubation, as the males are apt to break the eggs. The males often fall to fighting among themselves like game-cocks, and through this very pugnacity, these birds are often taken, as the leader of the whole covey frequently advances to fight with the decoy-bird of the fowler; as soon as he is taken, another and then another will advance, all of which are caught in their turn.
These birds are often carried away by such frantic madness, that they will settle, being quite blinded by fear, upon the very head of the fowler. If he happens to move in the direction of the nest, the female bird that is sitting will run and throw herself before his feet, pretending to be wounded or weak, then, suddenly running or flying for a short distance before him, will fall down as though she had a wing broken; just as he is about to catch her, she will then take another fly, and so keep baffling him in his hopes, until she has led him to a considerable distance from her nest. As soon as she is rid of her fears, and free from all maternal disquietude, she will throw herself on her back in some furrow, and seizing a clod of earth with her claws, cover herself all over. It is supposed that the life of the partridge extends to sixteen years.