they destroy great numbers. The inhabitants of that country hold them in as much esteem as the ancient Egyptians did their bird ibis. The shoveler runs tamely about their houses; and they are content with its society as an useful though a homely companion. They are never killed; and indeed they are good for nothing when they are dead, for the flesh is unfit to be eaten.

This bird breeds in Europe, in company with the heron, in high trees, and in a nest formed of the same materials. Willoughby tells us that in a certain grove, at a village called Seven Huys, near Leyden, they build and breed yearly in great numbers. In this grove, also, the heron, the bittern, the cormorant, and the shag have taken up their residence, and annually bring forth their young together. Here the crane kind seem to have formed their general rendezvous; and, as the inhabitants say, every sort of bird has its several quarter, where none but their own tribe are permitted to reside. Of this grove the peasants of the country make good profit. When the young ones are ripe, those that farm the grove, with a hook at the end of a long pole, catch hold of the bough on which the nest is built and shake out the young ones; but sometimes the nest and all tumble down together.

The shoveler lays from three to five eggs, white and powdered with a few sanguine or pale spots. We sometimes see in the cabinets of the curious the bills of American shovelers twice as big and as long as those of the common kind among us; but these birds have not yet made their way into Europe.

The flamingo has the justest right to be placed among cranes; and though it happens to be web-footed, like birds of the goose kind, yet its height, figure, and appetites entirely remove it from that groveling class of animals. With a longer neck and legs than any other of the crane kind, it seeks its food by wading among waters, and only differs from all of this tribe in the manner of seizing its prey; for as the heron makes use of its claws the flamingo uses only its bill, which is strong and thick for the purpose, the claws being useless, as they are feeble, and webbed like those of water-fowl.

The flamingo is the most remarkable of all the crane kind-the tallest, the bulkiest, and the most beautiful. The body, which is of a beautiful scarlet, is no bigger than that of a swan; but its legs and neck are of such an extraordinary length, that when it stands erect it is six feet six inches high. Its wings extended are five feet six inches from tip to tip; and it is four feet eight inches from tip to tail. The head is round and small, with a large bill seven inches long, partly red, partly black, and crooked like a bow. The legs and thighs, which are not much thicker than a man's finger, are about two feet eight inches high, and its neck near three feet long. The feet are not furnished with sharp claws, as in others of the crane kind, but are feeble and united by membranes as those of the goose. Of what use these membranes are does not appear, as the bird is never seen to swim, its legs and thighs being sufficient for bearing it into those depths where it seeks for prey.

This extraordinary bird is now chiefly found in America, but was once known on all the coasts of Europe. Its beauty, its size, and the peculiar delicacy of its flesh have been such temptations to destroy or take it, that it has long since deserted the shores frequented by man, and taken refuge in countries that are yet but thinly peopled. In those desert regions the flamingoes live in a state of society and under a better polity than any other of the feathered creation.

When the Europeans first came to America, and coasted down along the African shores, they found the flamingoes on several shores on either continent gentle, and no way distrustful of mankind. They had long been used to security in the extensive solitudes they had chosen, and knew no enemies but those they could very well evade or oppose. The Negroes and the native Americans were possessed but of few destructive arts for killing them at a distance; and when the bird perceived the arrow it well knew how to avoid it. But it was otherwise when the Europeans first came among them; the sailors, not considering that the dread of fire-arms was totally unknown in that part of the world, gave the flamingo the character of a foolish bird, that suffered itself to be approached and shot at. When the fowler had killed one the rest of the flock, far from attempting to fly, only regarded the fall of their companion in a kind of fixed astonishment; another and another shot was discharged, and thus the fowler levelled the whole flock before one of them began to think of escaping. But at present it is very different in that part of the world: and the flamingo is not only one of the scarcest but of the shyest birds, and the most difficult of approach. They chiefly keep near the most deserted and inhospitable shores, near salt water lakes and swampy islands. They come down to the banks of rivers by day, and often retire to the inland mountainous parts of the country at the approach of night. When seen by the mariners in the day, they always ap pear drawn up in a long close line of two or three hundred together; and, as Dampier tells us, present at the distance of half a mile the exact representation of a brick wall. Their rank, however, is broken when they seek for food; but they always appoint one of the num ber as a watch, whose only employment is to observe and give notice of danger while the rest are feeding. As soon as this trusty centinel perceives the remotest appearance of danger he gives a loud scream, with a voice as shrill as a trumpet, and instantly the whole cohort are upon the wing. They feed in silence, but upon this occasion all the flock are in one chorus, and fill the air with intolerable screamings.

From this it appears that the flamingoes are very diffi cult to be approached at present, and that they avoid mankind with the most cautious timidity; however, it is not from any antipathy to man that they shun his society, for in some villages, we are assured by Labat, along the coast of Africa, the flamingoes come in great numbers to make their residence among the natives. There they assemble by thousands, perched on the trees within and about the village, and are so very clamorous that the sound is heard at near a mile distance. The Negroes are fond of their company, and consider their society as a gift of Heaven as a protection from accidental evils. The French, who are admitted to this part of the coast, cannot without some degree of discontent see such a quantity of game untouched, and rendered useless by the superstition of the natives; they now and then privately shoot some of them when at a convenient distance from the village, and hide them in the long grass if they perceive any of the Negroes approaching-for they would probably stand a chance of being ill treated if the blacks discovered their sacred birds thus unmerci. fully treated.

Sometimes in their wild state they are shot by mari ners; and their young, which run excessively fast, are often taken. Labat has frequently taken them with nets, properly extended round the places they breed in. When their long legs are entangled in the meshes they are then unqualified to make their escape; but they still continue to combat with their destroyer, and the old ones, though seized by the head, will scratch with their claws, and these, though seemingly inoffensive, very often do mischief. When they are fairly disengaged from the net, they nevertheless preserve their natural

ferocity; they refuse all nourishment, and peck and combat with their claws at every opportunity. The fowler is therefore under a necessity of destroying them when taken, as they would only pine and die if left to themselves in captivity. The flesh of the old ones is black and hard, though (Dampier says) well-tasted; that of the young ones is still better. But of all other delicacies the flamingo's tongue is the most celebrated. "A dish of flamingoes' tongues," says our author," is a feast for an emperor." In fact, the Roman emperors considered them as the highest luxury; and we have an account of one of them who procured fifteen hundred flamingoes' tongues to be served up in a single dish. The tongue of this bird, which is so much sought after, is a good deal larger than that of any other bird what ever. The bill of the flamingo is like a large black box, of an irregular figure, and filled with a tongue which is black and gristly; but what peculiar flavour it may possess I leave to be determined by such as understand good eating better than I do. It is probable that the beauty and scarcity of the bird might be the first induce ments to studious gluttony to fix upon its tongue as meat for the table. What Dampier says of the goodness of its flesh cannot so well be relied on; for Ďampier was often hungry, and thought anything good that could be eaten he avers, indeed, with Labat, that the flesh is black, tough, and fishy; so that we can hardly give him credit when he asserts that its flesh can be formed into a luxurious entertainment.

These birds, as was said, always go in flocks together, and they move in ranks in the manner of cranes. They are sometimes seen at break of day flying down in great numbers from the mountains, and conducting each other with a trumpet cry, that sounds like the word "tococo," from whence the savages of Canada have given them the name. In their flight they appear to great advantage, for they then seem of as bright a red as a burning coal. When they dispose themselves to feed their cry ceases, and then they disperse over a whole marsh in silence and assiduity. Their manner of feeding is very singular: the bird thrusts down its head, so that the upper convex side of the bill shall only touch the ground, and in this position the animal appears as it were standing upon its head. In this manner it paddles and moves the bill about, and seizes whatever fish or insect happens to offer. For this purpose the upper chap is notched at the edges, so as to hold its prey with great security. Catesby, however, gives a different account of their feeding. According to him, they place the upper chap undermost, and so work about, in order to pick up a seed from the bottom of the water that resembles millet; but as in picking up this they necessarily also suck in a great quantity of mud, their bill is toothed at the edges in such a manner as to let out the mud while they swallow the grain.

Their time of breeding is according to the climate in which they reside in North America they breed in our summer; on the other side the line they take the most favourable season of the year. They build their nests in extensive marshes, and where they are in no danger of a surprise. The nest is not less curious than the animal that builds it: it is raised from the surface of the pool about a foot and a half, formed of mud scraped up together, and hardened by the sun or the heat of the bird's body it resembles a truncated cone, or one of the pots which we see placed on chimneys; on the top it is hollowed out to the shape of the bird, and in that cavity the female lays her eggs, without any lining but the well-cemented mud that forms the sides of the building. She always lays two eggs, and no more; and, as her legs are immoderately long, she straddles on the nest, while her legs hang down, one on each side, into the water.

The young ones are a long while before they are able to fly; but they run with amazing swiftness. They are

sometimes caught, and (very different from the old ones) suffer themselves to be carried home, when they are easily tamed. In five or six days they become familiar, eat out of the hand, and drink a surprising quantity of sea-water. But though they are easily rendered do mestic, they are not reared without the greatest difficulty, as they generally pine away for want of their natural supplies, and die in a short time. While they are yet young their colours are very different from those lively tints they acquire with age. In their first year they are covered with plumage of a white colour mixed with grey; in the second year the whole body is white, with here and there a slight tint of scarlet; and the great covert feathers of the wings are black: the third year the bird acquires all its beauty; the plumage of the whole body is scarlet, except some of the feathers of the wings, that still retain their sable hue. Of these beautiful plumes the savages make various ornaments; and the bird is sometimes skinned by Europeans to make muffs. But these have diminished in their price since we have obtained the art of dying feathers of the brightest scarlet.

CHAP. IX.

OF THE AVOSETTA OR SCROOPER, AND THE CORRIRO OR RUNNER.

The extraordinary shape of the avosetta's bill might incline us to wish for its history; and yet in that we are not able to indulge the reader. Natural historians have hitherto, like ambitious monarchs, shown a greater fondness for extending their dominions than cultivating what they possess. While they have been labouring to add new varieties to their catalogues, they have neglected to study the history of animals already known.

The avosetta is chiefly found in Italy, and now and then comes over into England. It is about the size of a pigeon, is a pretty upright bird, and has extremely long legs for its size. But the most extraordinary part of its figure, and that by which it may be distinguished from all others of the feathered tribe, is the bill, which turns up like a hook, in an opposite direction to that of the hawk or the parrot. This extraordinary bill is black, flat, sharp, and flexible at the end, and about three inches and a half long. From this bird's being bare a long way above the knee, it appears that it lives and wades in the waters. It has a chirping, pert note, as we are told; but with its other habits we are entirely unacquainted. I have placed it, from its slender figure, among the cranes-although it is web-footed, like the duck. It is one of those birds of whose history we are yet in expectation.

To this bird of the crane kind, so little known, I will add another, still less known-the corrira or runner of Aldrovandus. All we are told of it is, that it has the longest legs of all web-footed fowls except the flamingo and avosetta; that the bill is straight, yellow and black at the ends; that the pupils of the eyes are surrounded, with two circles, one of which is bay and the other white: below, near the belly, it is whitish; the tail, with two white feathers, black at the extremities: and that the upper part of the body is of the colour of rusty iron. It is thus that we are obliged to substitute dry description for instructive history, and employ words to express those shadings of colour which the pencil alone can

convey.

uninhabitable to them. The ground parched up by the heat-the springs dried away-and the vermicular insects already upon the wing, they have no means of subsisting. Their weak and delicately-pointed bills are unfit to dig into a resisting soil; and their prey is departed, though they were able to reach its retreats. Thus, that season when Nature is said to teem with life and to put on her gayest liveries is to them an interval of sterility and famine. The coldest mountains of the north are then a preferable habitation; the marshes there are never totally dried up; and the insects are in abundance, that both above-ground and underneath the country swarms with them. In such retreats, therefore, these birds would continue always, but that the frosts when they set in have the same effect upon the face of the landscape as the heats of summer. Every brook is stiffened into ice-all the earth is congealed into one solid mass; and the birds are obliged to forsake a region where they can no longer find subsistence.

Such are our visitants. With regard to those which keep with us continually, and breed here, they are neither so delicate in their food nor perhaps so warm in their constitutions. The lapwing, the ruff, the redshank, the sandpiper, the seapie, the Norfolk plover, and the sea-lark breed in this country, and for the most part reside here. In summer they frequent such marshes as are not dried up in any part of the year-the Essex hundreds and the fens of Lincolnshire. There, in solitudes formed by surrounding marshes, they breed and bring up their young. In winter they come down from their retreats, rendered uninhabitable by the flooding of the waters, and seek their food about our ditches and marshy meadow-grounds. Yet even of this class all are wanderers upon some occasions, and take wing to the northern climates to breed and find subsistence. This happens when our summers are peculiarly dry, and when the fenny countries are not sufficiently watered to defend their retreats.

But though this be the usual course of Nature, with respect to these birds they often break through the general habits of their kind; and as the lapwing, the ruff, and the sandpiper are sometimes seen to alter their manners and to migrate from hence, instead of continuing to breed here, so we often find the woodcock, the snipe, and the curlew reside with us during the whole season, and breed their young in different parts of the country. In Casewood, about two miles from Tunbridge, as Mr. Pennant assures us, some woodcocks are seen to breed annually. The young have been shot there in the beginning of August, and were as healthy and vigorous as they are with us in winter, though not so well tasted. On the Alps and other high mountains, says Willoughby, the woodcock continues all summer; I myself have flushed them on the top of Mount Jura in June and July. The eggs are long, of a pale-red colour, and stained with deeper spots and clouds. The nests of the curlew and the snipe are frequently found; and some of these perhaps never entirely leave this island.

It is thus that the same habits are in some measure common to all; but in nestling and bringing up their young one method takes place universally. As they all run and feed upon the ground, so they are all found to nestle there. The number of eggs generally to be seen in every nest is from two to four, never under, and very seldom exceeding. The nest is made without any art; but the eggs are either laid in some little depression of the earth, or on a few beuts and long grass that scarcely preserve them from the moisture below. Yet such is the heat of the body of these birds, that their time of incubation is shorter than with any others of the same size. The magpie, for instance, takes twenty-one days to hatch its young-the lapwing takes but fourteen. Whether the animal oil with which these animals abound gives them this superior warmth I cannot tell; but there is no doubt of their quick incubation.

In their seasons of courtship they pair as other birds, but not without violent contests between the males for the choice of the female. The lapwing and the plover are often seen to fight among themselves; but there is one little bird among the tribe, called the "ruff," that has got the epithet of the "fighter" merely from its great perseverance and animosity on these occasions. In the beginning of spring, when these birds arrive among our marshes, they are observed to engage with desperate fury against each other; it is then that the fowlers, seeing them intent on mutual destruction, spread their nets over them and take them in great numbers. Yet even in captivity their animosity still continues: the people that fatten them up for sale are obliged to shut them up in close dark rooms; for if they let ever so little light in among them the turbulent prisoners instantly fall to fighting with each other, and never cease till each has killed its antagonist, especially, says Willoughby, if any body stands by. A similar animosity, though in a less degree, prompts all this tribe; but when they have paired and begun to lay their contentions are then over. The place these birds chiefly choose to breed in is in some island surrounded with sedgy moors, where men seldom resort; and in such situations I have often seen the ground so strewed with eggs and nests, that one could scarce take a step without treading upon some of them. As soon as a stranger intrudes upon these retreats the whole colony is up, and a hundred different screams are heard from every quarter. The arts of the lapwing to allure men or dogs from her nest are perfectly amusing. When she perceives the enemy approaching she never waits till they arrive at her nest, but boldly runs to meet them: when she has come as near them as she dares to venture, she then rises with a loud screaming before them, seeming as if she was just flushed from hatching, while she is then probably a hundred yards from the nest. Thus she flies, with great clamour and anxiety, whining and screaming round the invaders, striking at them with her wings, and fluttering as if she were wounded. To add to the deceit, she appears still more clamorous as more remote from the nest. If she sees them very near she then seems to be quite unconcerned, and her cries cease, while her terrors are really augmenting. If there be dogs, she flies heavily at a little distance before them, as if maimed-still vociferous and still bold, but never offering to move towards the quarter where her treasure is deposited. The dog pursues in hopes every moment of seizing the parent, and by this means actually loses the young; for the cunning bird, when she has thus drawn him off to a proper distance, then puts forth her powers, and leaves her astonished pursuer to gaze at the rapidity of her flight. The eggs of all these birds are highly valued by the luxurious; they are boiled hard, and thus served up without any further preparation.

As the young of this class are soon hatched, so when excluded they quickly arrive at maturity. They run about after the mother as soon as they leave the egg; and being covered with a thick down, they want very little of that clutching which all birds of the poultry kind that follow the mother indispensably require. They come to their adult state long before winter, and then flock together till the breeding season returns, which for a while dissolves their society.

As the flesh of almost all these birds is in high estimation, so many methods have been contrived for taking them. That used in taking the ruff is the most advantageous; and it may not be amiss to describe it. The ruff (which is the name of the male, the reeve that of the female) is taken in nets about forty yards long, and seven or eight feet high. These birds are chiefly found in Lincolnshire and the Isle of Ely, where they come. about the latter end of April and disappear about Michaelmas. The male of this bird, which is known from all others of the kind by the great length of the

feathers round his neck, is yet so various in his plumage, that it is said no two ruffs were ever seen totally of the same colour. The nets in which these are taken are supported by sticks, at an angle near forty-five degrees, and placed either on dry ground or in very shallow water, not remote from reeds: among these the fowler conceals himself till the birds, enticed by a stale or stuffed bird, come under the nets; he then by pulling a string lets them fall, and they are taken-as are godwits, knots, and grey-plover also in the same manner. When these birds are brought from under the net they are not killed immediately, but fattened for the table with bread and milk, hempseed, and sometimes boiled wheat; but if expedition be wanted, sugar is added, which will make them a lump of fat in a fortnight's time. They are kept, as observed before, in a dark room; and judgment is required in taking the proper time for killing them when they are at the highest pitch of fatness; for if that is neglected the birds are apt to fall away. They are reckoned a very great delicacy; they sell for two shillings or half-a-crown a piece, and are served up to the table with the train, like woodcocks, where we will leave them.

CHAP. XI.

OF THE WATER-HEN AND THE COOT.

Before we enter upon water-fowls, properly so called, two or three birds claim our attention, which seem to form the shade between the web-footed tribe and those of the crane kind. These partake rather of the form than the habits of the crane, and, though furnished with long legs and necks, rather swim than wade. They cannot properly be called web-footed; nor yet are they entirely destitute of membranes, which fringe their toes on each side and adapt them for swimming. The birds in question are the water-hen and the bald coot.

These birds have too near an affinity not to be ranked in the same description. They are shaped entirely alike, their legs are long, and their thighs partly bare; their necks are proportionable, their wings short, their bills short and weak, their colour black, their foreheads bald and without feathers, and their habits are entirely the same. These, however, naturalists have thought proper to range in different classes, from very slight distinctions in their figure. The water-hen weighs but fifteen ounces the coot twenty-four; the bald part of the forehead in the coot is black-in the water-hen it is of a beautiful pink colour; the toes of the water-hen are edged with a straight membrane-those of the coot have it scalloped and broader.

The differences in the figure are but slight, and those in their manner of living still less. The history of the one will serve for both. As birds of the crane kind are furnished with long wings, and easily change place, the water-hen, whose wings are short, is obliged to reside entirely near those places where her food lies: she cannot take those long journeys that most of the crane kind are seen to perform; compelled by her natural imperfections, as well, perhaps, as by inclination, she never leaves the side of the pond or the river in which she seeks for provision. Where the stream is selvaged with sedges, or the pond edged with shrubby trees, the water-hen is generally a resident there: she seeks her food along the grassy banks, and often along the surface of the water. With Shakspeare's Edgar, she drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; or, at least, seems to prefer those places where it is seen. Whether she makes pond-weed her food, or hunts among it for water-insects, which are found there in great abundance, is not certain. I have seen them when pond-weed was taken out of their stomach. She builds her nest upon low trees and shrubs of sticks and fibres by the water-side. Her eggs are sharp at one

end, white, with a tincture of green spotted with red. She lays twice or thrice in a summer; her young ones swim the moment they leave the egg, pursue their parent, and imitate all her manners. She rears in this manner two or three broods in a season; and when the young are grown up she drives them off to shift for themselves. As the coot is a larger bird it is always seen in larger streams, and more remote from mankind. The waterhen seems to prefer inhabited situations: she keeps near ponds, motes, and pools of water near gentlemen's houses; but the coot keeps in rivers and among rushy margined lakes. It there makes a nest of such weeds as the stream supplies, and lays them among the reeds floating on the surface, and rising and falling with the water. The reeds among which it is built keep it fast, so that it is seldom washed into the middle of the stream. But if this happens, which is sometimes the case, the bird sits in her nest like a mariner in his boat, and steers with her legs her cargo into the nearest harbour: there, having attained her port, she continues to sit in great tranquillity, regardless of the impetuosity of the current; and though the water penetrates her nest, she hatches her eggs in that wet condition.

The water-hen never wanders; but the coot sometimes swims down the current till it even reaches the sea. In this voyage these birds encounter a thousand dangers: as they cannot fly far they are hunted by dogs and men; as they never leave the stream they are attacked and destroyed by otters; they are preyed upon by kites and falcons; and they are taken in still greater numbers in weirs made for catclfing fish; for these birds are led into the nets while pursuing small fish and insects, which are their principal food. Thus Animated Nature affords a picture of universal invasion. Man destroys the otter, the otter destroys the coot, the coot feeds upon fish, and fish are universally the tyrants of each other!

To these birds with long legs and finny toes I will add one species more, with short legs and finny toes-I mean the grebe. The entire resemblance of this bird's appe tites and manners to those of the web-footed class might justly induce me to rank it among them; but as it resembles those above-described in the peculiar form of its toes, and bears some similitude in its manners also, I will for once sacrifice method to brevity. The grebe is much larger than either of the former, and its plumage white and black; it differs also entirely in the shortness of its legs, which are made for swimming, and not walking

in fact, they are from the knee upward hid in the belly of the bird, and have consequently very little motion. By this mark, and by the scalloped fringe of the toes, this bird may be easily distinguished from all others.

As they are thus, from the shortness of their wings, ill-formed for flying, and from the uncommon shortness of their legs utterly unfitted for walking, they seldom leave the water, and chiefly frequent those broad shallow pools where their faculty of swimming can be used to the greatest advantage in fishing and seeking their prey.

In this country they are chiefly seen to frequent the meres of Shropshire and Cheshire, where they breed among reeds and flags in a floating nest, kept steady by the weeds of the margin. The female is said to be a careful nurse of its young, being observed to feed them most assiduously with small eels; and when the little brood is tired the mother will carry them either on her back or under her wings. This bird preys upon fish, and is almost perpetually diving. It does not show much more than the head above water, and is very difficult to be shot, as it darts down on the appearance of the least danger. It is never seen on land; and, though disturbed ever so often, will not leave that lake where alone, by diving and swimming, it can find food and security. It is chiefly sought for the skin of its breast, the plumage of which is of a most beautiful silvery white, and as glossy as satin. This part is made into tippets; but the