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A PLEA FOR THE SKY-LARK.

season.

SKY-LARKS IN CAGES.

WE FEEL MORE THAN JUSTIFIED,-CALLED UPON, to plead hard for the Sky-lark at this Till within the last week, or so, thousands of fresh victims have been caught by the villainous trappers, and caged. Mated, and affectionately employed in building nests for their expected young, they have after a long season of cold and misery just begun to enjoy themselves, when a net closing over them has suddenly separated them for ever from all they hold dear in the world.

To imagine that these birds will sing, or that they can be "happy," would be ridiculous. Birds are not such fools-neither are their tender hearts made of such materials as ours. Whilst ours bend, theirs break.

We are moved to pity, not unmingled with detestation, to see certain birds day by day hung out of windows to make them sing"-the sun scorching their heads, and the wind sweeping through their cages in fitful gusts. Oh! the agony endured by those heralds of the sky, as they listen to the distant voices of their free brethren, mounting up to Heaven's gate! Yet do their tenderhearted owners see no harm in confining them. "They are used to it !"

We are quite aware that all we can say will avail nothing. Birds alas! are a doomed race. WE are made happy by their sufferings! To show that we are not singular in this idea, we subjoin the remarks of a brother naturalist (Broderip), who thus forcibly speaks his mind :

:

Of all the unhallowed instances of bird incarceration (not excepting the stupid cruelty of shutting up a robin in an aviary), the condemnation of the skylark to perpetual imprisonment is surely the most repugnant to every good feeling.. The bird, whilst his happy brethren are carolling far up in the sky, as if they would storm Heaven itself with their rush of song, just at the joyous

season

When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear, is doomed to pine in some dingy street!

There, in a den with a solid wooden roof, painted green outside, and white-glaring white within, which in bitter mockery is called a skylark's cage, he keeps moving his wretched wings, and beating his wings against the wires, panting for one-only one-upward flight into the free air. To delude him into the recollection that there are such places as the fields, which he is beginning to forget, they cut what they call a turf-a turf dried up in the vicinity of this smoke-canopied Babel of bricks, redolent of all its sooty abominations. This abominable lump of dirt is presented to the skylark as a refreshment for his parched feet, longing for the fresh morning dews.

Miserable as the winged creature is, he feels that there is something resembling grass under

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But when the form of manhood is full on, those childish pleasures-exciting our simple imaginations to indulge in horrible visionssoon vanish; the fly rod is exchanged for the tough ash stick, and we feel ourselves, after a season or two's practice, more lords over the finny tribe than any statesman could wish to be for the art is gentle.

But to our purpose. The matter with which I am at present engaged, relates not to the rural sports of Britain, and savors little of any claim in an act connected with the government of this country. Small scope there would be for litigation in my subject, even if there were any "Fishery Laws vogue for the protection of sharks; my only wish is that the shark may not form an overpowering attachment to the cod and other

fish of our coasts.

" in

Our interest must now be concerned with

the deep sea waters, whose denizens in many parts are little known, and whose habits must be very curious to those who can witness them. On our coasts the White Shark (Squalus carcharius) is seldom met with, especially when full grown. It possibly follows shoals of fish during their migrations through the St. George's Channel, Irish Sea, German Ocean, and English Channel; but it appears to know the value of deep waters, and instinct warns it to give a wide berth to strangers, for the creature only affords a random chance to be noticed by Naturalists. Dame Nature, it would seem, teaches it to keep well out to sea, and enables it to say good-bye to the stuffing fraternity, commonly styled in these "fast days" of knowledge "Taxidermists."

It does not follow that subjects which might have gratified the taste of a Buffon, would be by any means acceptable to the man who labors for his daily rations; especially to men of a maritime class, in which are hardships innumerable, and accidents too common. The lover of shark knowledge would often glory in a capture which involves

within its folds an incarcerated colonypanic stricken, not only by imprisonment, but by the existence of a foreign intruder amongst them.

Some weeks ago, a young White Shark was entrapped in a fishing-net several miles off the coast, opposite Workington, Cumberland. The singular pull of the net, and its violent motion when uplifted, caused con siderable excitement, doubtless. When the load was hauled up, a rough-skinned, longbodied creature presented itself, surrounded by a mass of gasping haddocks, &c. The fisherman's most incorrigible enemy, commonly called the "Sea Devil," when observed, soon meets with his proper fate he is despatched and thrown overboard-thereby causing one of the most hideous, though at the same time curious fishes, to be seldom seen by landsmen. But in this instance the hardy fellows looked again upon their foe, and finally decided that it no doubt was a "curositie," and they brought the body home. The local fishmongers, pronouncing it useful for their service, the shark was destined to perform a journey inland; and after a fair exhibition in the country markets, it was purchased, and ultimately consigned to the stuffing process, namely, the embodiment of wire and tow.

an object which basked immediately under the vessel's wake. With goggling eyes, he at times looked listlessly about him. Then again would he cast a greedy and devouring glance at the dainty mouthful above him. I may mention that a cutter yacht (one of which I at that time owned) has many facilities for observing monsters who may take a fancy to what seems a large bird above them; for as the vessel generally sits very low in the water at the stern, your propinquity to an object near the water's surface is very close when that object is nearly at the tail of the ship. The man on the watch very quietly withdrew, and reported that “a shark was astern of us." The intelligence rapidly flew through the ship, and every one was alive in looking over the stores in search of barbs and harpoons.

A joint of mutton, and strong hook attached, were then lowered by means of a rope of sufficient length; but our friend glided under us, and we observed that fresh meat, only a few days before killed at Stavanger, could not tempt him. We tried scarlet-colored cloth; this too was useless, and could not fascinate the fish; for he soon left us, and many of the seamen believed that he had paid a visit to another ship somewhere in the offing. We computed this specimen to be about twenty feet long, and it seemed to me to be between four and five feet across the head.

The White Shark often grows to a ponderous size, and is gigantic in proportions; which is not the case with the Blue Shark. One man there was on board pleased with Specimens have been seen upwards of twenty feet long, and they seem to visit our northern this hasty termination to our pleasures, and that was "a hand" (to use a common seaseas; but few accounts, if any, appear recorded of the full grown White Shark phrase) who had been seriously ill, and was having been taken on the shores of Britain. several weeks slung in his hammock, on the I remember another circumstance which sick-list. Nearly all sailors possess superstioccurred to me some years ago, during a tious notions; this poor fellow was not an cruise on the coast of Norway and Sweden, exception, for his spirits rallied after the deand which, as it may not be altogether un-parture of a visitor who wanders through the pathless seas-a tyrant of his element :interesting, I will here relate.

The sea was calm, and the waves were unbroken; but a long, heavy, upheaving swell rolled our craft about under a flapping mainsail, in a breathless sky. We were some miles off the Naze of Norway. Any one who has experienced life at sea, can recal the monotonous hour when a calm prevails. The eye finds relief there, only by occasionally gazing at the clear line of division on the horizon, where green and blue elements unite. During those silent hours of Nature's lethargy, the sea-bird seldom in its sluggish flight flaps the air around us; not even near the coast, nor when a fair view of a headland may be seen through the telescope. All around looks peaceful solemnity, and the only moving form seems the ever-rolling swell, which jostles our cutter, and plays with it as the serpent boa would round a toy rabbit.

In peaceful quiet such as this, a sailor, indolently leaning over the taffrail, discerned

The dread of all who in the breeze

Of tropic climes enjoy its cool
Life-giving air-soft listless ease,

The rock-formed bath, or swimming pool.
Perchance death comes, with open jaws,
A victim bids adieu to shores

How much more blest! sad havoc's done,
One man is gone-the sea's alone!
Keswick.

A HINT ON WOOING.

C. W. R.

SOME beauties are like the convolvulus, which only shows its flower when the sun shines; but the sun of beauty is a gas-lustre. Should'st thou ever fall in love, woo not thy fair one with costly gifts, nor by taking her to concerts, balls, theatres, promenades, and other revelries, lest thou thereby give her a distaste for domestic life; remember that the lap-dog, which has been accustomed to luxurious feeding, despises porridge and milk.

THE AVIARY AND ITS OCCUPANTS.
No. IX.

(Continued from Page 157.)

THUS FAR WE HAVE TRAVELLED, SLOWLY BUT SURELY, over the roughest ground. Having, contrary to a general rule, begun at the beginning, we find no need to retrace our steps. We have given ample instructions, we imagine, on every branch of our subject, including the building of an aviary, the purchase of stock," the proper mode of preparing the birds' food, &c. &c.; and we have henceforward to look on the pleasant side of the picture only. With care and attention, you will have very few deaths, very few casualties, and still fewer cases of sickness. In short, you will possess a "model aviary," and find it a perpetual and inexhaustible fund

of amusement.

We have already taken occasion briefly to direct attention to the fact of the human eye, and general expression of countenance, having considerable influence in the taming of birds and other animals-rendering them, moreover, affectionately playful. If you want anything to love you, man, woman, child, or animal, pay it unceasing attention. Nothing can long stand out against kindness. A cheerful smile, or a winning look, from a feeling heart, but why need we dwell upon what everybody ought to know?

With this principle ever in view, we always made a point of attending on the inmates of the aviary in propriâ personâ. It was no uncommon circumstance for a bird to perch on our head, our shoulder, our knee (whilst stooping), or on our hand, whilst engaged in cleansing the perches, &c. On such occasions we made it an undeviating rule to notice these marks of affectionate regard, by giving him a fond look, and whistling him a lively tune; also, by offering him some "tid-bit" in the form of a mealworm, an earwig, a piece of ripe soft pear, or the leaf of a juicy lettuce.

flannel, and afterwards dried. The windows and looking-glasses must be wiped with a dry cloth. The floor must be cleansed from its impurities. The universal mixture must be fresh made; and the residue (if any) thrown into the poultry yard; the fountain must be cleansed, and fresh water turned on. In short, a variety of other minor matters must be attended to, which will necessarily suggest themselves at the time.

We would here remark, that all persons who will have fine birds, must be scrupulously exact in keeping their apartment clean, also in seeing to their toe-nails being kept properly cut, and their feet not clogged up nor fouled by dirt. Look to their "hoppers and food troughs daily, and blow away the refuse of any seed that may remain on the lower ledge.

Be careful to keep a nice selection of Geraniums, Stocks, Calceolarias, &c., in the miniature balconies round the windows; and train your Ivy and other climbers over the upper parts of your windows. The birds will rejoice in an arrangement of this nature, and their song will be loud and continuous. You must also have nailed on the outside of all your windows (at all events the lower panes), a strong galvanised wire-work frame, the bars sufficiently close to prevent the ingress of the CATS, which would otherwise dash through the windows, and make sad havoc within. There is but ONE way of annihilating these vermin; to this we have already directed special attention.

In selecting your birds generally, it is always advisable to prefer those of a quiet temper. This remark has reference, in the most pointed manner, to woodlarks in particular. These melodious little songsters are, for the most part, very wild and very timid; knocking themselves about sadly, even at the reflection of their own shadow. They also have a bad habit of jumping up violently from the floor, when you go near them; especially when they are moulting. Emboldened by the familiarity of their Their legs, we should observe, are fragile as fellows, and remarking that we never abused the finest glass; consequently, they are liable the confidence reposed in us, nearly the to be easily broken. Woodlarks, of quiet whole family would, after a while, eat from habits, are a great acquisition in an aviary, our hand. We have gone so far with many where "harmony" is considered desirable. of them, as to take them up singly, while As they race along the floor, in the joyoustrotting about the floor; kiss them; play withness of their nature, they pour forth the them; and let them run away quietly from the half open hand. They would as quickly return, and repeat the same ceremony; evidently much gratified with their "tiny" performances.

You will have unlimited opportunities for the indulgence of these reciprocal pleasing familiarities, for you must enter the aviary every morning,-regular as clockwork, to perform the requirements of the day. The perches must all be rubbed hard with a soapy

most deliciously-plaintive notes. Many persons rank them as equal, some as superior to the nightingale.

Skylarks will neither thrive nor sing in an aviary. Naturally accustomed to soar aloft, they are sure to dash their heads violently against the ceiling; nor can they be taught to keep upon the floor. It is, therefore, quite useless to admit any of this tribe.

Should you, perchance, observe any flight feathers lying about, watch narrowly who

the offender is that has been thus spiteful; and if you find any recurrence of the outrage, remove him at once. There must be no in subordination allowed. When bringing in the daily supplies of fresh food, &c., you will be much amused by closely watching the movements of the expectant guests. They will cling to the wires and feed freely from your hand.

If ever you purchase any good song birds, whose plumage may be defective, simply press hard upon the stumps of their tails, and draw out the whole of the tail feathers-one by one. In less than a fortnight after they have luxuriated in the aviary, a new tail will be discernible in prospective; and in a short month their entire plumage will be beautiful. This affords abundant proof of the benefits derivable from air, exercise, and amusement. Our next chapter will include a complete world of operations connected with an aviary; and if we may offer an opinion, it will be one of universal interest to all who love to keep their birds well and "happy."

Half the birds that are pent up in cages lead a life of unceasing misery. Their owners talk loudly about "loving" them; and they "prove" their love by letting their pets exist in dirt and filth. One glance at the interior of a bird-cage tells its own tale!

BIRDS OF SONG.

THE THRUSH.
(Continued from Page 154.)

WE COME NOW TO DISCUSS THE MERITS of the thrush-one of our very earliest birds of Spring.

The thrush is a bold, saucy rogue-one who will not be daunted or put down by any one. He fears no enemy,-not he! And determined if possible to have no enemies, he sings to all alike. We observe that he pays due deference to the blackbird, with whose "matins" he rarely interferes; but no sooner are the devotions of the latter over, than the welkin rings out with the most ravishing strains of joy.

No suppressed notes have we here. Our hero's heart is full to the brim; and we must hear what he has to say, both to his mate and to us. So rapid, too, is his utterance, so long his "little story" of love and happiness, that "variety" appears in every second note

he utters.

The one great business of the thrush's life appears to be devotion to his ladye-love, affection to his numerous offspring, gratitude to his Maker, and fondness for the society of man. He is rarely silent throughout the day; and at the close of evening, he whistles so long as a streak of light is visible. His

"vespers," on our return home, rejoice our heart. The park resounds far and near with his outpourings of joyous melody.

We are now singing, be it known, of the musical thrush, Turdus Musicus-not the missel thrush. The latter is a much larger bird than the former, and does not sing nearly so well, nor so much. A handsome bird he is, truly, and an ornament to a garden lawn; but, as a cage-bird, or a vernal chorister, he must not rank high. The musical thrush is the more taper and elegantly-formed bird of the two. When he stands erect, he is a most loveable object. His fine intelligent eye speaks eloquently for him; nor need he fear exhibiting his cerebral development. His head is a noble study, having only one organ in it-the organ of "music." How he "discourses" this, all of us who live in the country know to our infinite delight.

the weather. The time for "pairing" depends much on When the early part of the year is mild, and the sun visible at intervals, early pairing and early incubation are the consequence. Nests are already formed; and contracted. Hence the song of the birds is marriages, of course, have long since been "sweet." We may remark here, that never do birds sing more sweetly than when first united. All their best endeavors to please their spouses, and render their lives "happy," are then exercised to the full. Nor do these good offices cease and determine until the compact can be lawfully rescinded with the termination of the season. Such is "birds, law." Being moralists in our way, we do wish these remarks of ours to extend below the surface; for, as we have often said, we may learn a profitable lesson every day, even by a consideration of dumb animals. They shame us in almost every branch of their domestic economy.

The nest of a thrush, like that of a blackbird, is not closely concealed; consequently the school-boy and the villainous bird-catcher make sad havoc with their eggs and offspring. How often have we heard the parents bemoaning the loss of their infant progeny, in tones which would have melted any heart, save only those above-mentioned, which are notoriously made of iron, and therefore impenetrable. There is, however, much sound sense in these noble birds. They grieve, truly grieve for their loss, but they "sorrow not as those without hope." Making the best of matters, again do they go through the heavy duties of nidification, incubation, and hatching; and a second brood sometimes escapes the murderous scrutiny of the robbers' eye. On such occasions, how joyous must be the feelings of the "happy pair!" How excessive their fondness for each other, and for their children! And with what delight must they bring them out to see the world, and teach them to

provide for their own wants! The nest of the thrush is constructed with much ingenuity. Its interior resembles a large circular cup, both in form and size. It is quite smooth to the touch, though not polished. To receive this, a substratum of tufted moss is formed. As the structure advances, the tufts of moss are brought into a rounded wall, by means of stems of grass, wheat, straw, or roots. These are twined with it, and with one another, up to the brim of the cup, where a thicker band of the same material is hooped round like the mouth of a basket.

When any of the straws, or other materials will not readily conform to this required gauge, they are carefully glued into their proper places by means of saliva. This is a fact which a sceptic may realise by the careful inspection of any nest. It is worthy of examination, and a beautiful contrivance to gaze upon.

completed in the manner we have described, When the "shell," as it may be termed, is the happy pair begin the interior masonry by spreading pellets of horse or cow-dung on the basket-work of moss and straw; beginning at the bottom, which is intended to be the thickest, and proceeding gradually from the central point. This material, however, is too dry to adhere of itself with sufficient firmness to the moss, and on this account it is always

laid on with the saliva of the bird as a cement. How must the patience of the little architect be taxed to lay this on so very smoothly, having no other implement than its narrowpointed beak!

No human architect could produce any similar effect with such a tool as this, seeing that the whole surface is of one uniform smoothness; but from the frame being nicely prepared, and by using only small pellets at a time, which are spread out with the upper part of the bill, the work is rendered easier. Some writers assert that thrushes prefer the dung of cows for lining their nests with; but experience proves the contrary. Horsedung is selected, as being the more eligible for the purpose. This may be ascertained by comparing a piece of the dry droppings found in pastures, with the inner wall of the nest. Dry horse-dung retains no smell; whereas cow-dung, though exposed to the heat of the sun for many months, always retains a musky smell, resembling Indian ink.

On this wall being finished, the birds use for an inner coating little short slips of rotten wood-chiefly that of the willow; and these are firmly glued on with the same salivary cement, while they are bruised flat at the same time, so as to correspond with the smoothness of the surface over which they are laid This final coating, however, is seldom extended quite so high as the first;

and neither of them are carried quite to the brim of the nest, the birds thinking it enough to bring their masonry near to the twisted band of grass which forms the mouth.

The whole wall when finished, is not much thicker than pasteboard, and though hard, tough, and water-tight, is more warm and comfortable than might, on a first view, appear, and admirably calculated for protecting the eggs or young from the bleak winds which prevail in the early part of the spring, when the song-thrush breeds. We are so great admirers of the ingenuity of these birds, that we have deemed it right to be minutely particular in describing the manner of their forming their nests. find fault with the nests for being water-tight from within, thereby, they say, admitting rain to spoil their eggs; but this is ridiculous, as one of the parent birds invariably remains on the premises" to prevent any such calamity in time of rain.

66

Some

nest in a yew tree, immediately contiguous Last year a pair of thrushes built their to one of the lower windows of our dwelling. We could easily reach it with the hand. During the building of that nest we had ample opportunities for watching the parentbirds. We rose very early for the purpose of observation, and found them busy at daybreak. Their task completed, five eggs were duly laid by the mamma, and in due time

hatched.

It was

The interval between the laying of the eggs, and the hatching of the young, afforded us many delightful opportunities for observing the affection of these happy creatures. Never was husband more kind or more attentive; never was wife more charmingly sensible of those attentions, and devoted to her " only love." They loved well and truly. The bustle too, and fuss, consequent upon the departure of the happy family from their cradle, were irresistibly diverting. all managed at sunrise. Unobserved by the little party, we were narrowly scanning all their movements. We saw them flap their wings, and assay their powers of flight. We noted their unmistakeable feelings of joy and delight on first peeping round upon the world; and the obedience they paid to their parents. Not a note uttered by the latter escaped them, and in a day or two they were well able to provide for their own necessities. They were our guests all through the year, and still live in our grounds.

We have now to record the pleasing fact, of the same parents having again built their nest in the tree adjoining that in which they nested last season. It is built at a height not exceeding five feet from the ground, and we catch the eye of the occupant every time we pass. Ere this reaches the public eye, the young, five in number, will be nearly a

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