A NATURAL HISTORY OF THE CUCKOO. 67 
which have fallen under my observation, the Cuckoo was chiefly 
tended by the female foster-parent. 
The anecdote which I next mention is a remarkable one. “ In 
my neighbourhood,” relates Mr. Ensor, “a tenant’s son found a 
Cuckoo in the nest of a Meadow Pipit. He brought it home, and 
fed it on potatoes and oatmeal dough. In a few days two Wrens, 
which had a nest with eight eggs in the eaves, and just above the 
window fronting the cage in which the Cuckoo was placed, made 
their way through a broken pane, and continued to feed it for some 
time. The cage was small; and the boy, preferring a Thrush to a 
Cuckoo, took it away to give greater room to the Thrush. On this, 
the Wrens repaired to their own nest, and brought out the eggs 
that had been laid.” The truth is, that the sight and imploring 
cries of a helpless, gaping nestling, excite the parental sensibility 
of most birds. I have seen a brood of ten Bottletits reared in con- 
finement by a tame (male) Tree Pipit ; and young birds may be 
seen to put food in the mouths of others, as soon as they have begun 
to pick of themselves. However, on placing a nest of little Gold- 
erests in the same cage with a Cole Titmouse, in the expectation 
that the latter would have tended them, the little caitiff took up one 
of them in his beak, and was about to eat it; but the Tits have 
most of the propensities of the Jays and Magpies, which are habi- 
tual devourers of nestlings. Generally speaking, the cry of a nest- 
ling suffices to excite the sympathy of small birds, of whatever spe- 
cies. 
When the Cuckoo is able to fly, and has left the nest, the reverse 
disposition is generally, however, manifested towards it. “ A Cuckoo 
flew from the nest on June 9th; and three days afterwards it was 
seen on the top of a wall in the immediate vicinity. While sitting 
here, an amusing and instructive sight presented itself. A Thrush, 
which probably had a nest close by, in an adjoining garden, evinced 
the most passionate and marked antipathy to the young Cuckoo, by 
approaching it with feathers ruffled, beak open, and uttering an 
earnest cry ; some small birds, too, drew near, as if to exhibit their 
dislike and abet the Thrush.” 
In avery large proportion of cases, I have already intimated that 
the young Cuckoo is not even hatched at the time the adult birds 
leave us; notwithstanding which, some instances have been ob- 
served wherein maternal solicitude was evinced by this remarkable 
species. Thus, Mr. J. E. Gray, of the British Museum, affirms 
that he has himself seen a Cuckoo, day after day, visit the spot 
where one of its offspring was being reared, and which it finally 
