Manners of the NutJiatch. 329 



door in a fashionable square. He had a particular fancy for 

 the extremities of the corner pillars of the cage; on these 

 he spent his most elaborate taps, and at this moment, though 

 he only occupied the cage a day, the wood is pierced and 

 worn like a piece of old wormeaten timber. He probably 

 had an idea, that if these main beams could once be pene- 

 trated, the rest of the superstructure would fall and free him. 

 Against the doorway he had also a particular spite, and 

 once succeeded in opening it; and when, to interpose a far- 

 ther obstacle, it was tied in a double knot, with string, the 

 perpetual application of his beak quickly unloosed it. In 

 ordinary cages a circular hole is left in the wire for the bird 

 to insert his head, to drink from a glass : to this hole the 

 nuthatch constantly repaired, not for the purpose of drinking, 

 but to try to push out more than his head, but in vain ; for 

 he is a thick bird, and rather heavily built; but the instant he 

 found the hole too small he would withdraw his head, and 

 begin to dig and hammer at the circle, and where it is rooted 

 in the wood, with his pickaxe of a beak, evidently with a 

 design to enlarge the orifice. His labour was incessant, and 

 he eat as largely as he worked ; and I fear it was the united 

 effects of both that killed him. His hammering was peculiarly 

 laborious, for he did not peck as other birds do, but, grasp- 

 ing his hold with his immense feet, he turned upon them as 

 upon a pivot, and struck with the whole weight of his body, 

 thus assuming the appearance, with his entire form, of the 

 head of a hammer, or, as I have sometimes seen birds on me- 

 chanical clocks made to strike the hour by swinging on a 

 wheel. We were in hopes that when the sun went down he 

 would cease from his labours, and rest : but, no ; at the interval 

 of every ten minutes, up to nine or ten o'clock in the night, 

 he resumed his knocking; and strongly reminded us of the 

 coffinmaker's nightly and dreary occupation. It was said by 

 one of us, " he is nailing his own coffin ;" and so it proved. 

 An awful fluttering in the cage, now covered with a handker- 

 chief, announced that something was wrong : we found him at 

 the bottom of his prison, with his feathers ruffled, and nearly 

 all turned back. He was taken out, and for some time he 

 lingered amidst convulsions, and occasional brightenings up ; 

 at length he drew his last gasp ; and will it be believed that 

 tears were shed on his demise ? The fact is, that the appa- 

 rent intelligence of his character, the speculation in his eye, 

 the assiduity of his labour, and his most extraordinary fear- 

 lessness and familiarity, though coupled with fierceness, gave 

 us a consideration for him that may appear ridiculous to those 



