in fabric and situation, being generally built in a low bush or tuft of grass, and not suspended between the stems of reeds just above the surface of the water*" as is the case with the latter. "The nest of the black-headed bunting," says Syme, "is generally placed among clumps or bunches of long grass, willow roots, tufts of rushes, reeds, &c. It is a flimsy structure, composed of bent and withered grass, and slightly lined with a few horse-hairs†."

Among some hundreds of these nests which we have seen in Scotland (we have not met with the bird in England nor on the Continent), not one was built according to either of these descriptions; but uniformly in the side of a low bank, so that a bit of turf or a stone might project over it. structure was very much like that of the wagtail or the yellow-hammer, but with much fewer materials than either.

*Illustr. i. p.

243. Brit. Song Birds, p. 229.

The

J. R.

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CHAPTER XII.

WEAVER BIRDS.-WEAVER ORIOLE. SMALL BRITISH WEAVER BIRDS. AMERICAN WEAVER BIRDS. BALTIMORE STARLING. BENGAL SPARROW. TCHITREC.

YELLOW-HAMMER.

THE name of weaver oriole has been given by way of distinction to a bird supposed to be a native of Senegal, because it amused itself with interweaving whatever flexible materials it could procure, into the wires of its cage. But though this was certainly a singular habit, as it seemed unconnected with nestbuilding, it is by no means uncommon to find nests with the materials interwoven more or less neatly, as we shall exemplify, after we have mentioned the few particulars which are known of the weaver oriole (Ploceus textor, CUVIER).

The captain of a ship, who had collected about forty birds from Madagascar, Senegal, and other parts of the African coast, brought to France two of the weaver orioles, which he called Senegal chaffinches, and which are the only individuals we believe hitherto described by naturalists. They appeared to be of different ages, the elder having a kind of crown, which appeared in sun-light of a glossy golden brown colour; but at the autumnal moult this disappeared, leaving the head of a yellow colour, though its golden brown was always renewed in the spring of every successive year. The principal colour of the body was yellowish orange, but the wings and tail had a blackish ground. The younger

bird had not the golden brown on the head till the end of the second year, which occasioned the excusable mistake of supposing it to be a female, as it is one of the characteristics of female birds to preserve for a long time the marks of youth. The two birds were kept in the same cage, and lived at first upon the best terms with one another, the younger generally sitting on the highest bar, holding its bill close to the other, which it answered by clapping its wings, and with a submissive air.

Having been observed in the spring to interweave chickweed into the wire-work of their cage, it was imagined to be an indication of their desire to nestle; and accordingly, upon being supplied with fine rushes, they built a nest so capacious as to conceal one of them entirely. They renewed their labour on the following year; but the younger, which had now acquired its full plumage, was driven off by the other from the nest first begun. Determined, however, not to be idle, it commenced one for itself in the opposite corner of the cage. The elder, however, did not relish this, and continuing his persecution, they were separated. They went on working at their several buildings; but what was built one day was generally destroyed the next. Latham tells us, that one of them, having by chance got a bit of sewing silk, wove it among the wires, which being observed, more was put into the cage, when the bird interlaced the whole, but very confusedly, so as to hinder the greater part of one side of the cage from being seen through it was found to prefer green and yellow to

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any other colour* " A pair of these, or similar weaver birds, are, or lately were, at Newstead Abbey.

It seems difficult to conceive in what manner a *Gen. Hist. of Birds, iii. p. 117.

cross

bird could ever be able to interweave materials in the manner just described, with no other instrument than its bill; for it does not appear that the feet are brought into use in the work. In every species of weaving practised by our mechanics, the thread or weft is passed between the warp or straight threads, by means of a shuttle which goes completely through; but it is very obvious that a bird could not use its bill in this manner, much less its entire body, which, in all known instances of weaver birds, is much too bulky for this purpose. We may therefore, we think, add this to some of the examples already mentioned, to shew that the inventions of men are not derived from an imitation of the ingenuity of the inferior animals. We cannot trace the art of weaving to its origin, as it appears to have been known in the most remote ages.

But, however ancient the art of weaving may be among men, it was no doubt practised by weaver birds from the period of their first existence; unless we were to admit the very objectionable theory that the mechanical ingenuity employed by the inferior animals was elicited, like human arts, by necessity or accident. We need not go to Senegal for specimens of the art of weaving among birds. There are few of those who build their nests with any degree of neatness, that do not in some part of the structure exhibit more or less of this peculiar skill. Even those which make very slender nests are sometimes most solicitous to interweave their materials.

Take any of the nests of the common small birds, which line the interior with hair, and remove the outer basketing of hay or roots, or the felt-work of moss and wool, and there will remain a circular piece of hair-cloth of various workmanship, according to the ingenuity of the bird and the materials which it has

Y

greater. There is another circumstance which evinces that birds have a prodigious power of voice; the cries of many species are uttered in the higher regions of the atmosphere, where the rarity of the medium must consequently weaken the effect. That the rarefaction of the air diminishes sounds is well ascertained from pneumatical experiments; and I can add from my own observation, that, even in the open air, a sensible difference in this respect may be perceived. I have often spent whole days in the forests, where I was obliged to listen closely to the cries of the dogs or shouts of the hunters; I uniformly found that the same noises were much less audible during the heat of the day, between ten and four o'clock, than in the evening, and particularly in the night, whose stillness would make hardly any alteration, since in these sequestered scenes there is nothing to disturb the harmony but the slight buzz of insects, and the chirping of some birds. I have observed a similar difference between the frosty days in winter and the heats of summer. This can be imputed only to the variation in the density of the air. Indeed, the difference seems to be so great, that I have often been unable to distinguish, in mid-day, at the distance of six hundred paces, the same voice which I could, at six o'clock in the morning or evening, hear at that of twelve or fifteen hundred paces. A bird may rise at least to the height of seventeen thousand feet, for it is there just visible. A flock of several hundred storks, geese, or ducks, must mount still higher, since, notwithstanding the space which they occupy, they soar almost out of sight. If the ery of birds, therefore, may be heard from an altitude of above a league, we may reckon it at least four times as powerful as that of men or quadrupeds, which is not audible at more than half a league's distance on the surface. But this estimation is even too low; for, besides the dis