egg in some of the nests above mentioned; but it has been stated that the egg of a cuckoo has been found in the domed nest of a wren, and in a wagtail's nest under the eaves of a cottage: in these cases the cuckoo could not have sat upon the nest to deposit the egg, and the inference is, that when the nest is of such a nature, or so situated that it would not be possible for the cuckoo to sit upon it, she drops the egg in from her bill. Le Vaillant had strong evidence to show that one of the African cuckoos did carry her egg in her bill, in order to drop it into nests having a narrow side entrance. That some birds do carry their eggs in their mouths we have the testimony of Mr. Audubon, who says, that when the American goatsucker discovers that its eggs have been touched, it appears extremely, dejected, and after a few low notes and some gesticulations, all indicative of great distress, it takes an egg into its large mouth, and its mate does the same, when they will fly off together skimming closely over the ground.

The egg, however deposited, is, from the moment of its deposit, abandoned by the cuckoo, and after a fortnight's incubation, it is hatched. Very shortly after its birth, the young cuckoo is the sole tenant of the nest. This was formerly accounted for in various ways. Some declared that the foster-parents were so enamoured of their Pantagruel of a nestling, that they killed their own offspring, and gave them to the young giant to eat. Others again asserted that the old cuckoo took advantage of the nurse's absence to gobble up the real Simon Pures, and so leave room for the intruder. Others again, as we have above noticed, believed that as the young cuckoo gained strength, it swallowed the nestlings, and at last the nurse herself.

The truth is, that the eggs and true nestlings are, immediately after its birth, got rid of by the young cuckoo, which has a depression upon the middle of its broad back to assist it in the summary ejectment of its fellow-lodgers. Insinuating itself under the egg or nestling, the intruder gets it upon the hollow of its back, and, if left to itself, never rests till it has shouldered and jerked it out of the nest. Dr. Jenner, Colonel Montagu, and many other accurate observers, have placed this wonderful and early effort of instinct beyond doubt. In one case, two young hedge-sparrows and a young cuckoo were hatched on the same morning. In the evening the young cuckoo was sole tenant. Colonel Montagu took the nest and bird, when the latter was five days old, to his house, and put a young swallow, by way of experiment, into the nest with it. The cuckoo frequently threw the young swallow out for four or five days after. Sometimes, indeed, the cuckoo failed after much struggling, for the swallow was strong and nearly full-feathered; but after a short rest to recover

its fatigue, the cuckoo renewed its efforts, and seemed continually restless till it succeeded. At the end of the fifth day this disposition ceased, and the young cuckoo permitted the swallow to remain unmolested in the nest. It is worthy of note, that when the cuckoo is about twelve days old, the hollow on the back is filled up, and its shape is that of nestlings in general.

Sometimes two eggs of the cuckoo are deposited in the same nest, most probably by different individuals. If these are hatched, then comes the tug of war. Dr. Jenner relates, that on the 27th of June, 1787, two cuckoos and a hedge-sparrow were hatched in the same nest; one hedge-sparrow's egg remained unhatched. In a few hours after, a severe contest began between the cuckoos for the possession of the nest. The combatants appeared alternately to have the advantage. Each carried the other several times nearly to the top of the nest, and then sank down again under the pressure of his burden. At length, after several struggles, the strongest cuckoo prevailed, turned out the other, the young hedge-sparrow, and the unhatched egg, remained sole possessor of the nest, and was brought up by the old hedgesparrows.

The cuckoo is thus the cause of keeping down the population of the insectivorous birds, and those whose nests are made the places of deposit. Mr. Rennie calculates that it annually destroys about 3,500,000 of their eggs.

It may be readily conceived what a busy time of it the poor dupes of foster-parents have in providing for the feathered Dando that they have unconsciously brought into existence. Cases are on record where their compassionate neighbours are said to have assisted them in providing for the overwhelming demands of their big changeling.

Two instances are given in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1806 of young cuckoos having been occasionally fed by large numbers of birds of the same species as their foster-parents. One of these nestlings, was, it is stated, supplied with nourishment by upwards of twenty titlarks, and the other was waited upon by forty-eight wagtails. Colonel Montagu and Mr. Eaton of York, doubt the accuracy of these reports; but Mr. Blackwall sees no occasion to call the principal fact in question. The latter zoologist observes that the young cuckoo is particularly clamorous when stimulated by hunger; and he finds a reason for the benevolence of the contributing birds in their being unable to hear the distressed and distressing cry for food, without being moved to succour the hungry nestling. He gives several instances where birds of a different species have brought food to deserted nestlings; and he therefore is of opinion that the article in the Gentleman's Magazine is perfectly correct in asserting that young cuckoos are occa

sionally fed by a more than ordinary number of birds ; but that it is erroneous to suppose that these numerous purveyors are invariably of the same species as the foster-parents of the cuckoos.

But, according to observations made by Mr. J. E. Gray, of the British Museum, natural affection would not appear to be entirely extinguished in the breast of the cuckoo. He states that she does not uniformly desert her offspring to the extent that has been supposed; but on the contrary, that she continues in the precincts where the eggs are deposited, and in all probability takes the young under her protection when they are sufficiently fledged to leave the nest. This is as if the mother had put out her child to nurse, but yet continued to watch over it.

Strange tales have been told relative to the food of the cuckoo. The nursery song says

"The cuckoo is a fine bird,

He sings as he flies,
He brings us good tidings,'
He tells us no lies.

He sucks little birds' eggs
To make his voice clear,
And when he sings cuckoo'

The summer is near."

Dr. Brookes sets himself seriously to refute this story of the eggs, and says, truly enough, that those cuckoos which have been opened, have had caterpillars and other insects found in their crops. Selby remarks that it is an opinion very commonly entertained, that this bird sucks the other eggs in the nest where it deposits its own; but that there appears to be no reason for supposing this to be the case, and that the belief has without doubt arisen from the fact of the young cuckoo being so often found sole tenant, after the expulsion of its co-partners.

Mr. Hoy, Mr. Salmon, and other observers of reputation, however, testify that the adult cuckoo occasionally destroys one or more of the eggs that she finds in the nest where she deposits her own. Still there can be no doubt that the cuckoo feeds principally, if not entirely upon insects. White saw one hawking for dragon-flies (Libellulæ) over a pond, and the hairy larvæ of some of the lepidopterous insects are especial favourites.

It was formerly supposed that the hairs found on the inner surface of the stomach of this bird were of spontaneous growth; and, indeed, very lately, Mr. Thompson was disposed so to consider them but Professor Owen found that these supposed gastric hairs presented under the microscope the complex structure

characteristic of those of the larva of the tiger-moth (Arctia Caja); and proved to the satisfaction of Mr. Thompson that they were altogether borrowed from that insect, the only species taken from the stomach of the bird in various specimens from different parts of the country, examined by Mr. Thompson in the months of May and June, 1833. In the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons in London (No. 534, Physiological Series) are balls composed of fine hairs, from the stomach of a cuckoo; and John Hunter, the founder of that noble collection, observes, in his Animal Economy, that the cuckoo in certain seasons lives on caterpillars, some of which have hairs of a considerable length on their bodies, and that the ends of these hairs are found sticking in the horny coat of the stomach or gizzard, while the hairs themselves are laid flat on its surface; not in every direction, which would be the case if there was no regular motion, but all one way, arising from a central point placed in the middle of the horny part, the appearance on both sides of the gizzard evidently corresponding.

The gallant chanticleer has been termed the shepherd's clock; and the cuckoo may be called the husbandman's timekeeper. Hesiod (Works and Days, 484), tells us that when the song of the latter was heard amid the oak-leaves, it was late for ploughing, though there was still good time, if it rained incessantly three days and three nights; and woe to the ancient Italian vine-dresser whom the voice of the cuckoo surprised before he had finished pruning his vine. Hence the irritating mockery with which the wayfarer, loudly imitating the notes of the bird, assailed the husbandman as he cultivated his vineyard, taunting him with his sloth.* In this country the cuckoo arrives in April. The earliest time noted by White is the 7th of that month, and the latest the 26th. Markwick's periods of arrival are April 15th, and May 3d, and he records the bird as last heard on the 28th of June; indeed it has been observed that there is a remarkable coincidence between the time of the bird's song and the season of the continuance of the mackerel in full roe; that is, from about the middle of April to the latter end of June. The notes of the male have, however, been heard as late as the end of July. As the season advances, the clearness of his two distinct notes is gradually lost, till at last they are curtailed to an indistinct "gowk" whence its provincial name. Aristotle has noticed the failure of its song, and its broken notes before its departure.†

The male arrives here before the female: the voice of the latter is totally unlike that of the male, and somewhat resembles the

voice of the gallinules and dabchicks.

This attracts the other

sex, and she may often be seen attended by one or two beaux, crying most vehemently as they follow in her train, occasionally fighting with each other. The males seem to have favourite trees where they repeat their song, for Pennant caught in a trap, which he placed on a tree frequented by them, no fewer than five of that sex in one season. As the cuckoo flies along he is often

mobbed by the little birds,

"Le coqu est de tous oyseaux hay,

Parce qu'au nid der autres il va pondre,
Par cest oyseau fault les amans semondre,
Qu'aucun mary par eux ne soit trahy.”

The history of his advent to this country, and of his departure from it, is comprised in these old English lines, of which there are different versions:

"In April

Come he will,
In flow'ry May
He sings all day,
In leafy June

He changes his tune,
In bright July
He's ready to fly,
In August

Go he must."

The young cuckoos do not leave us till September. Some few late-hatched birds may be found during winter in hollow trees, as observed by Agricola in his book, De Animantibus Subterraneis, or in the thickest tangles of a furze-bush, as asserted by others; yet these are but exceptions, for young cuckoos have rarely been kept alive till the ensuing spring. Indeed, there can be no doubt as to the fact of their migration: Mr. Swainson saw them arrive at Sicily and Naples in the spring, and thence direct their flight northward. One brought to Colonel Montagu in July, just as it could fly, was by great care kept alive till the 14th of December. This bird was very much afraid of strangers, but suffered itself to be handled quietly by a young lady who had fed it and been its kind benefactress, and it appeared to be comforted, poor thing, by the warmth of her hand to its feet..

Mr. Von Schauroth gives the species a very unamiable character in captivity. He reared many, and tried to domesticate one in particular, but it was never entirely tamed. Buffon, on the contrary, states that he was acquainted with several persons who had reared and tamed them, though he lost all he tried to rear between autumn and winter. He relates that one knew his