152 STOJ^IES ABOUT BIRDS. 



take any long journeys, except from one tree to the other. He ahghts on the 

 highest boughs, and begins to hunt about among the foHage for insects, 

 threading the most tangled mazes, and hopping from one bough to another 

 without opening his wings. 



All the insects and caterpillars that lie in his route are, of course, snapped 

 up and devoured. His movements are very quick ; and his tail is long and 

 helps him to balance himself on the boughs — indeed, the Indian gives him 

 the not very elegant name of " cat's-tail." 



He is a tropical bird, and lives both in Africa and America. His 

 costume is rather sober, but with a pleasant lustre ; and his long tail is often 

 barred with black and white. Nay, in some instances he wears a splendid 

 plumage of emerald green. 



His food is insects and caterpillars, and grain, with berries and fruit ; 

 and he will even attack mice and lizards, and eat the eggs of other birds. 

 At certain times of the year his short wings have to bear him a long way, for 

 every summer he pays us a visit ; and we expect him as confidently as we 

 look for blossoms on the fruit-trees or the hawthorn on the hedges. 



" In April come he will. 

 In May he sings all day. 

 In June he changes his tune. 

 In July he may fly. 

 In August go he must." 



The mother cuckoo, perhaps on account of her wandering life, or for 

 some other reason which we cannot find out, never seems inclined to 

 build a nest, or, indeed, to trouble herself with family cares. Yet, like the 

 other birds, she has a family to provide for — or rather, eggs to hatch. At this 

 time of the year her feathered neighbours have finished their nests and laid 

 their eggs. And the cuckoo seems well acquainted with the fact. As she 

 goes her rounds among them some fine morning, she looks sharply about 

 her, and makes up her m.ind what to do. 



There are some of the birds that she chooses as foster-mothers for her 

 own offspring. She does not consult them about it, for perhaps they would 

 refuse — for it is no great honour — and mischief, as a rule, comes of it, that 

 is, to their own poor little nestlings. 



