Birds and all Nature, Vol. IV, No. 6, December 1898

The organs of sense, and consequently feeling itself, are the same as they are in human creatures. I can't imagine how a man not hardened in blood and massacre is able to see a violent death, and the pangs of it, without concern. —Bernard de Mandeville, 1723.

However we may differ as to speculative points of religion, justice is a rule of universal extent and invariable obligation. See that no brute of any kind, whether intrusted to thy care or coming in thy way, suffer through thy neglect or abuse. Let no views of profit, no compliance with custom, and no fear of the ridicule of the world, even tempt thee to the least act of cruelty or injustice to any creature whatsoever. But let this be your invariable rule everywhere, and at all times, to do unto others as, in their condition, you would be done unto. —Humphry Primatt, D. D., 1776.

But a full-grown Horse or Dog is, beyond comparison, a more rational, as well as more conversable animal than an infant of a day, a week, or even a month old. But suppose the case were otherwise, what would it avail? The question is not, Can they reason? nor, Can they talk? but, Can they suffer? —Jeremy Bentham, 1780.

Animals are endued with a capability of perceiving pleasure and pain; and from the abundant provision which we perceive in the world for the gratification of their several senses, we must conclude that the Creator wills the happiness of these his creatures, and consequently that humanity towards them is agreeable to him, and cruelty the contrary. This, I take it, is the foundation of the rights of animals, as far as they can be traced independently of scripture, and is, even by itself, decisive on the subject, being the same sort of argument as that on which moralists found the Rights of Mankind, as deduced from the Lights of Nature. —Thomas Young, 1798.

The claims of the lower animals to humane treatment, or at least to exemption from abuse, are as good as any that man can urge upon man. Although less intelligent, and not immortal, they are susceptible of pain; but because they cannot remonstrate, nor associate with their fellows in defense of their rights, our best theologians and philosophers have not condescended to plead their cause, nor even to make mention of them; although, as just asserted, they have as much right to protection from ill-usage as the best of their masters have. —W. Youatt, 1839.

There is a moral as well as a physical character to all animal life, however humble it may be – enveloped indeed in obscurity, and with a mysterious solemnity which must ever belong to the secrets of the Eternal. Let us then approach with caution the unknown character of the brute, as being an emanation from Himself; and treat with tenderness and respect the helpless creatures derived from such a source. —Ralph Fletcher, 1848.

THE CALIFORNIA VULTURE

Among the crags, in caverns deep,The Vulture rears his brood;Far reaching is his vision's sweepO'er valley, plain, and wood;And wheresoe'er the quarry lies,It cannot 'scape his peering eyes.The traveler, from the plain below,Sees first a speck upon the sky —Then, poised on sweeping wings of woe,A Vulture, Bat-like, passes by.C. C. M.

DOCTOR BREWER states that the single species composing this very distinct genus belongs to western North America, and, so far as known, has the most restricted distribution of all the large raptorial birds in the world. It is found on the coast ranges of southern California from Monterey Bay southward into Lower California. It has become very much reduced in numbers and extinct in localities where it was formerly abundant, which is doubtless due to the indiscriminate use of poison which is placed on carcasses for the purpose of killing Wolves, Bears, Lynxes, Cougars, and other animals which destroy Sheep, Calves, and other cattle of the stockmen. Davie says it is more common in the warm valleys of California, among the almost inaccessible cliffs of the rough mountain ranges running parallel with the Sierra Nevadas for a hundred miles south of Monterey. It associates with the Turkey Buzzard, and the habits of both species are alike, and they often feed together on the same carcass.

The Vulture's flight is easy, graceful, and majestic. A writer who watched one of these gigantic birds thus pictures it: "High in air an aeronaut had launched itself – the California Condor. Not a wing or feather moved, but resting on the wind, like a kite, the great bird, almost if not quite the equal of its Andean cousin, soared in great circles, ever lifted by the wind, and rising higher and higher into the empyrean. Not a motion of the wing could be seen with careful scrutiny through the glass, but every time the bird turned and faced the wind it seemed to bound upward as though lifted by some super-human power, then bearing away before it, gathering the force or momentum which shot its air-laden frame higher and higher until it almost disappeared from sight – a living balloon."

The ordinary California Buzzard and the singular Ravens of Santa Catalina Island often give marvelous exhibitions of soaring or rising into the air without moving their wings, and when it is remembered that their bodies are reduced to a minimum of weight, and that even the bones are filled with air, it is almost scientifically and literally true that they are living balloons. And yet the weight of the Vulture is sometimes twenty-five pounds, requiring immense wings – eight and a half to eleven feet from tip to tip – to support it.

Mr. H. R. Taylor, of the late Nidologist, says there have probably but three or four eggs of the California Vulture been taken, of which he has one. The egg was taken in May, 1889, in the Santa Lucia Mountains, San Luis Obispo County, California, at an altitude of 3,480 feet. It was deposited in a large cave in the side of a perpendicular bluff, which the collector entered by means of a long rope from above. The bird was on the nest, which was in a low place in the rock, and which was, the collector says, lined with feathers plucked from her own body. This assertion, however, Mr. Taylor says, may be an unwarranted conclusion. From the facts at hand, it appears that the California Condor lays but a single egg.

The Condor is not an easy bird to capture, for it has a fierce temper and a powerful beak. An unusually large one, however, was recently taken in Monterey County, California. To catch the mighty creature William J. Barry made use of a lasso, such as ranchmen have with which to round up obstreperous cattle. The strength of one man was barely sufficient to imprison it. It is said that the appetite of the bird was not affected by its loss of liberty.

A GAMELESS COUNTRY

THE West Indian Archipelago, with its four islands and numberless islets, is called the gameless country, because in a region of more than 100,000 square miles there are no Monkeys, Bears, Raccoons, Wild Hogs, Jaguars, Pumas, Panthers, Lynxes, Wild Cats, Foxes, Wolves, or Jackals. There is not even a Woodchuck to be dug out of the many caves. Dogs and Cats, too, are unknown, and this lack of household pets seems to have driven the aborigines to expedients, for in a book called "Ogilvy's Voyages" there is a story told of a San Domingo native who kept a tame Manatee or Sea Cow that made its headquarters in an artificial pond, and was so well trained that when called by its name it would come out of the water, go to a neighbor's house and after receiving food return to the pond, accompanied by boys who seemed to charm it by singing, and it often carried two children on its back. Its instinct was wonderful. It was once struck by a pike in the hand of a Spaniard and after that always refused to come out of the water when there was a clothed man near.

Manatees are often seen northwest of Cuba in shoals, sporting about the reefs like Sea Lions. They are cunning creatures and can dodge the harpoon with more success than any other aquatic animal. The largest land animal of this strange territory is a huge Rat, measuring eighteen inches in length without the tail. With this exception, it is claimed, Cuba, Jamaica, San Domingo, and Porto Rico have no land animals.

SNOWFLAKES

Out of the bosom of the air,Out of the cloud folds of its garments shaken,Over the woodlands brown and bare,Over the harvest fields forsaken,Silent, and soft, and slow,Descends the snow.Even as our cloudy fancies takeSuddenly shape in some divine expression,Even as the troubled heart doth makeIn the white countenance confession,The troubled sky revealsThe grief it feels.This is the poem of the air,Slowly in silent syllables recorded;This is the secret of despair,Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,Now whispered and revealedTo wood and field.– Longfellow.

THE AMERICAN GOLDEN-EYE

We watch the hunters creeping nearOr crouching in the silvery grasses;Their gleaming guns our greatest fear,As high o'erhead our wild flock passes.But we are of the air, and speedLike meteors dropping from the sky;He's "the man behind the gun" indeedWho can fairly wing a Golden-eye.– C. C. M.

FOR beauty this bird will compare favorably with any of the family except the Wood Duck, whose colors are more various and brilliant. Whistler is the name by which it is more commonly known, from the peculiar noise of wings made while flying. In spite of its short, heavy body and small wings, it covers immense distances, ninety miles an hour being the speed credited to it by Audubon, who, however, was not always accurate in his calculations. It is an abundant species throughout the fur countries, where it frequents the rivers and fresh-water lakes in great numbers. It breeds as far north as Alaska, where, on the Yukon, it nests about the middle of June. Like the Wood Duck, it makes its nest in hollow trees and decayed trunks. This consists of grass, leaves, and moss, lined with down from the bird's breast. The eggs are from six to ten in number, and ashy green in color.

The Golden-eye is a winter visitant to Illinois. On Long Island it is better known among the hunters as the "Whistler," and by others it is also called the "Great-head," from its beautifully rich and thickly crested head. On that island it is said to be a not very abundant species, arriving there in company with other migratory Ducks. Mr. Girand met with it in the fall and spring on the Delaware and in Chesapeake bay. Its food consists of small Shell and other Fish, which it procures by diving. In the fall the flesh of the Golden-eye is very palatable. It is very shy and is decoyed with great difficulty. In stormy weather it often takes shelter in the coves with the Scoup Duck, and there it may be more readily killed. Naturally the Golden-eye is chiefly seen in company with the Buffle-head, the Merganser, and other species that are expert divers like itself. When wounded, unless badly hurt, its power of diving and remaining under water is said to be so remarkable that it cannot be taken.

The Golden-eyes always have a sentinel on the watch to announce the approach of an enemy. They have been very little studied in their haunts. The word Clangula indicates in some degree the tone of their voices. They swim under water like fish, out of which they can bound upward and make off with prodigious speed.

GOLDEN ROD

A lady who has lately been making a visit in the West was telling the other day about the forlorn aspect of the country out that way to her. "Even the Golden-rod," she said; "you can't imagine how scraggly and poor it looks, compared with our magnificent flowers along the road here. I wonder what makes the Western Golden-rod so inferior." The very next day there arrived at her house a relative whom she had been visiting when she was in the West. He sat on the veranda, and looked indulgently – even admiringly – at the landscape, and praised its elements of beauty. But as his eye ran along the roadside near by, he said: "But there is one thing that we are ahead of you in – you have no such splendid Golden-rod here as we have out West! The Golden-rod growing along that road, now, is tame and poor compared with ours." What a blessed thing it is that the gold of our own waysides is richer than the gold of all other waysides!

THE AMERICAN SKUNK

THIS little animal is distinctively American, the one figured being found only in North America. It has a beautiful jet-black fur, varied with a larger or smaller amount of white forming a stripe on each side of its body and head, and more or less of its tail. In some cases the white is reduced to a small "star" at the top of the head, and without doubt some specimens are entirely black, while occasionally a white specimen may be seen.

The fur of the Black Skunk is considered the best, and brings the highest price which decreases as the amount of white increases, the white ones being almost valueless. A slight unpleasant odor clings about the manufactured fur, which detracts much from its commercial value, although some dealers claim that this is never noticed when it is sold as "Alaska sable."

Another common name for the Skunk is Polecat. Though found in the woods, they prefer to inhabit grassy or bushy plains. During the day they lie sleeping in hollow trees or stumps, in clefts of rocks, or in caverns, which they dig for themselves; at night they rouse themselves and eagerly seek for prey. Worms, insects, birds, and small animals, roots and berries constitute their food.

The range of the Skunk is quite extensive, the animal being most plentiful near Hudson Bay, whence it is distributed southward.

It is slow in its movements, can neither jump nor climb, but only walk or hop. Knowing how formidable is its weapon of protection, it is neither shy nor cowardly.

The Skunk is a much respected animal, both man and beast preferring to go around him rather than over him, and many amusing anecdotes are related by hunters and naturalists, which lead us to believe that he does not always come out second best in an encounter. When in search of food he is so bold that he can be approached without difficulty, and he wears a look of innocence that effectually deceives the uninitiated, and brings about very unexpected results.

Hensel says that when it is pursued by dogs it lays its tail along its back like a sitting Squirrel, turns its hinder quarters towards the dogs and performs queer, angry, hopping antics, such as one sometimes sees in the cages of Bears. The attacked animal never wastes its secretion by unnecessary haste, but continues to threaten as long as the dogs are a few yards distant from it.

"Skunk Farming" cannot be said to be a growing industry, but there are a number of such "farms" in the northern and eastern states which are said to pay fairly well. A small plat of land is enclosed by a high board fence; stakes are driven into the ground close together under the fence so that the animals cannot burrow out. Small shelters are built in, some hay thrown in for nests, and the farm is ready for the skunks.

Skunks get very tame in captivity and tolerably well accustomed to their keeper, though great care is required not to irritate them. Hay is their favorite bed, on which they curl up like a ball. After eating, they wipe their snouts with their forepaws, being very cleanly, and they always keep their fur dainty and dressed. The fur is not very fine or soft, but it is valuable and in considerable demand.

BIRDS IN "THE ILIAD."

EMILY C. THOMPSON

THE universe is so ordered that Birds are essential to the life of Man. To-day we believe this and value them accordingly. Years ago as well as now the birds held the same relation toward man but the latter did not then understand this relationship as we do in this age of scientific enlightenment. About twenty-eight hundred years ago, nine hundred years before the beginning of our era, a poet flourished in the East, or certain poets as some scholars maintain. He is supposed to have been a blind bard, who wandered around to the courts of the petty kings, sang his heroic lays and left them for our inheritance, and a noble inheritance it is to those who have the desire and will to go to the depth of the treasure. These poems tell of the people of that time and show us many sides of their life and the chief characteristics of their civilization.

One scarcely expects from a great poem, dealing with war and adventure, to gather information about birds. Yet it is there, but not so much scientific as ethical. Birds, they believed, were here on earth as the messengers of the gods. Rarely did a bird appear before them or raise a cry which did not do so by the direct command of some ruling divinity. Imagine with what anxiety these old Greek heroes watched for and listened to the heaven-sent messages. Great was the fear at certain omens, and great the rejoicing at others. As a rule only special men could interpret these signs and these men were of immense importance in a community. They were almost a priesthood in nature, as nearly so as any order which the people then possessed, for the priesthood was not developed at that time.

In the Iliad, at four of the critical points in the story a bird appears and shows the will of the gods to mortals. It is related that before the Greeks sailed to Troy, while the ships were yet assembled at Aulis, one of these omens occurred and was interpreted thus: Near the ships was an altar and by the altar stood a plane-tree, upon the bough of which a little bird had built its nest, and already within the nest were nine fledglings. Suddenly a serpent darted forth from beneath the altar straight toward the tree; the nine little birds were soon devoured and at last the serpent ended his feast by catching the mother which had flown crying about it. At once the serpent was turned into stone. This wonderful prodigy was shown by one of the prophets to mean that for nine years the Greeks would toil fruitlessly before Troy as the serpent had devoured the nine little birds; but in the tenth year they would seize the city.

The flight of birds was watched and upon this rested often the movements of whole armies. As the seer had foretold for nine years the Greeks had been fighting before the walls of Troy; their ships were drawn up on the shore of the sea and before them they had built a wall and dug a ditch for protection. The nine years had passed, the tenth year was already going by and never had the people from the beleaguered city dared to approach their ships. But now, after so many years, all was changed. The great hero of the Greeks, the great swift-footed Achilles, was angry and refused to fight for them and sat apart at the stern of his ship on the shore of the barren sea wearing out his heart with anger. Now the Trojans, never before so successful, had reached the wall and were encamped there for the night. The Greeks felt that it was necessary to send out spies to observe the movements of their foes. Diomede volunteered his services and chose Odysseus for his comrade. They crept away from their companions in the darkness but had gone only a few steps when the cry of a Heron was heard on their right. This meant good luck for them, for they knew that Athene, the protecting goddess of Odysseus, had sent this favoring sign, and it proved true, for their sally was prospered and they returned unharmed, having slain thirteen of the enemy, and bringing as booty a noble pair of steeds, a prize in which all Greeks took delight.

Even in Homer we see the dawning of skepticism, a skepticism of which we approve and the sentiment of which we cannot but admire. The next day after the favorable sign of Athene to her favorite, after nine long years of terrible war the Trojans stand at the very edge of the ditch before the Greek ships. Hector their noble leader, a hero who may well inspire modern men to noble deeds of patriotism, stands at their head. One rush more, one impetuous dash through the ditch and against the wall, and the ten years' war may be ended with the weary Trojans victors. But at this critical moment a bird appears, it is the favorite bird in Homer and also the favorite bird with us, for it is our national bird, the Eagle. Homer calls it the bird that is surest to bring fulfillment with its omens and tells us that it belonged to mighty Zeus the thunderer, the ruler of gods and men. The bird appeared flying at the left. The people halted. A bird flying at the left meant disapproval. It held in its mouth a snake not yet dead, which, coiling its head, bit at the breast of the bird. The bite was effective, and with a sharp cry, the bird dropped the serpent at the feet of the awe-inspired Trojans and fled shrieking away. Well might the people halt. What was to be done, an onward move against such a portent, or a calm withdrawal when everything was in their favor? One of the common people declared that they must withdraw or death would come upon them. Then noble Hector with frowning brows answered him: "Polydamas, no longer do you speak words pleasing to me. You know how to speak another word better than this. If you speak this truly in earnest, the gods themselves have taken away your senses from you who bid me to forget the counsels of high-thundering Zeus, the promises he made me and the plans to which he nodded assent. You bid me put my trust in long-winged birds which I do not heed or regard at all, whether they fly to the right toward the sun and the dawn, or to the left toward the murky darkness. Let us trust the counselings of great Zeus who holds sway over gods and men. One bird is the best to defend one's fatherland."

In the last book of the Iliad in the sad scenes surrounding the death and burial of this hero we have again an omen. Priam, the aged, feeble man, determined to go to the strange, wrathful Achilles and beg for the body of his dear son Hector, which the swift-footed hero had been mutilating in his wrath, dragging it behind his chariot about the city walls. Priam was determined to go. His wife tried to dissuade him from such a dangerous undertaking, he bade her not to be a bird of ill omen in his halls, but she insisted, and finally persuaded him to pray to Zeus to send him an omen that his journey would be successful. He prayed; thereupon an Eagle appeared flying at his right. Hecuba was now satisfied and the old lord of windy Troy started out on his errand of love. The omen was true this time for he did persuade the heart of Achilles and returned to his city with the remains of his son.

There are other instances of omens given by the presence and flight of birds, but these are sufficient to show us the great importance which the men of two thousand years ago attributed to them. Although birds are most prominent in Homer in this connection, still we find them mentioned many times just as parts of the physical world and without divine import. Among the birds thus mentioned we find names which our scholars have interpreted to designate Cranes, Meadow Larks, Jackdaws, Geese, Swans, Nighthawks, Vultures, and Eagles. Birds are especially noted for their quickness in flight, and the horses were most prized which flew like the birds. Birds were always mentioned in connection with the dead, and a favorite curse was to wish that one might be left a prey to the dogs and birds.

Gods often honored this part of the animal world by assuming their forms. We find Athene and Apollo in the likeness of Vultures settling down upon the Oak tree to watch the battle of the Greeks and Trojans. Sleep watches the wiles of Juno toward her lord while he sits as a Nighthawk upon a tree. But Homer is essentially a poet, and in many places a nature-poet, and in these touches of nature he does not forget the birds, but very often compares the movements of his heroes to them.

"As a tawny Eagle darts upon the flocks of winged birds feeding by the river, flocks of Geese, of Cranes, of long-necked Swans, so Hector darted upon them."

"The Trojans went with hue and cry – like the birds when the cry of the Cranes is in the front of heaven, who, when they flee from the winter and portentous storms, with cries fly to the streams of Oceanus bearing death and fate to the Pygmies, and at dawn they bear forth with them their evil strife."

"As a bird bears a morsel for its unfledged young whenever it obtains any, but fares badly itself, so I have toiled for other men and gained naught myself."

"As many flocks of birds, of Geese, Cranes, long-necked Swans, in an Asian meadow by the banks of the Cayster fly hither and thither exulting in their wings as they settle down with cries and the meadow reëchoes, so flocks of men poured from the tents and ships into the plain of the Scamander."