The Cuckoo 311 



woven, and, stretching its wings apart and backwards, it 

 elbowed the Pipit fairly over the margin so far that its 

 struggles took it down the bank instead of back into the 

 nest. 



" After this the Cuckoo stood a minute or two, feeling back 

 with its wings, as if to make sure that the Pipit was 

 fairly overboard, and then subsided into the bottom of the 

 nest. 



" As it was getting late, and the Cuckoo did not immedi- 

 ately set to work on the other nestling, I replaced the ejected 

 one and went home. On returning next day, both nestlings 

 were found dead and cold, out of the nest. I replaced one 

 of them, but the Cuckoo made no effort to get under and 

 eject it, but settled itself contentedly on the top of it. All 

 this I find accords accurately with Jenner's description of 

 what he saw. But what struck me most was this ; the 

 Cuckoo was perfectly naked, without a vestige of a feather, 

 or even a hint of feathers : its eyes were not yet opened, 

 and its neck seemed too weak to support the weight of its 

 head. The Pipits had well-developed quills on the wings 

 and back, and had bright eyes, partially open ; yet they 

 seemed quite helpless under the manipulations of the 

 Cuckoo, which looked a much less developed creature. 

 The Cuckoo's legs, however, seemed very muscular, and it 

 appeared to feel about with its wings, which were 

 absolutely featherless, as with hands, the bastard wing 

 (unusually large in proportion) looking like a spread -out 

 thumb. The most singular thing of all was the direct 

 purpose with which the blind little monster made for the 

 open side of the nest, the only part where it could throw 

 its burthen down the bank. I think all the spectators felt 

 the sort of horror and awe at the apparent inadequacy of 

 the creature's intelligence to its acts that one might have 

 felt at seeing a toothless hag raise a ghost by an 

 incantation. It was horribly ' uncanny ' and ' grewsome.' " 



