AN ACCOUNT OF A YOUNG CUCKOO. 

 By W. H. Benshed. 



In the month of July, 1834, I had a young Cuckoo given to me by a man who 

 was working in a stone-quarry. It was caught in its attempt to fly from the 

 nest of a pair of Wagtails built in a cleft in the rock. The man had confined the 

 young bird under a sieve, and inf >rmed me that the old birds had fed it during 

 the day. My residence being but a short distance from the quarry, I took an 

 old Bee-hive, and putting some net over the bottom, I placed the young bird 

 into it, and, fixing three Hop-poles in a triangle upon the lawn, set the hive 

 upon its side, in the top part, and watched the result. In a few minutes I 

 heard a low chirping note from the Cuckoo, and directly afterwards I saw the 

 two Wagtails settle upon the lawn. Delight and joy really appeared in all their 

 actions ; they rushed to and fro in the air, flying about the hive, and hovering 

 near it, with a graceful undulating motion, the Cuckoo crying more eagerly for 

 food as they darted past, or hung fluttering in the air. 



I could not, moreover, help noticing tho actions of several other birds. A 

 brood of young Swallows flew from the chimney-top as the old ones gave their 

 peculiar note, or cry of warning of danger, which is heard when a Cat or Hawk 

 makes its appearance. A Wren flew to the hive, and seemed to eye its inmate 

 with some curiosity, but a bold, pugnacious Robin shewed such a disposition for 

 fighting that the cock Wagtail boldly attacked and drove him away. 



The hen had now procured some food, which appeared to consist of small But- 

 terflies and caterpillars, but the nest seemed to excite her suspicions ; she 

 evidently feared being entangled with it. I then put a twig for a perch, and 

 she soon settled upon it, and gave the young Cuckoo its food. The two old birds 

 continued to feed it regularly for about a week, when their attention seemed to 

 be less constant, and, fearing it would be starved, I set it at liberty, but fre- 

 quently saw it until the end of August, sitting upon the end of a Hop-pole, and 

 still attended by the Wagtails. 



The Rev. Gilbert White, in his Natural History of Selborne, has taken 

 notice of the instinct of the Cuckoo, in selecting the nest of a soft-billed bird with 

 whom to entrust her young. Without this precaution, it would seem to be a 

 total contradiction to the general feeling and impulse of Nature, and there can be 

 no doubt of the care and forethought of the Cuckoo, in thus selecting the nest of 

 birds which will provide food suitable for her young; and an extraordinary 

 instinct is given to the young Cuckoo, to destroy its helpless companions by 

 thrusting them out of the nest, beneath which they perish, thereby receiving the 

 undivided attendance of the old birds, as it is most probable they would not be 

 able to rear so large a bird and their own young too, particularly as the Cuckoo 



