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HISTORY OF BIRDS. 



In tliis manner, all of this kind seem to 

 lead an indolent voluptuous life ; as they are 

 furnished internally \vith a very strong sto- 

 mach, commonly called a gizzard, so their vo- 

 raciousness scarcely knows any bounds. If 

 kept in close captivity, and separated from all 

 their former companions, they still have the 

 pleasure of eating left; and they soon grow 

 fat and unwieldy in their prison. To say 

 this more simply, many of the wilder species 

 of birds, when cooped or caged, pine away, 

 grow gloomy, and some refuse all sustenance 

 whatever; none, except those of the poultry 

 kind, grow fat, who seem to lose all remem- 

 brance of their former liberty, satisfied with 

 indolence and plenty. 



The poultry kind may be considered as 

 sensual epicures, solely governed by their ap- 

 petites. The indulgence of these seems to in- 

 fluence their other habits, and destroys among 

 them that connubial fidelity for which most 

 other kinds are remarkable. The eagle and 

 the falcon, how fierce soever to other animals, 

 are yet gentle and true to each other ; their 

 connections, when once formed, continue till 

 death; and the male and female, in every 

 exigence, and every duty, lend faithful assis- 

 tance to each other. They assist each other 

 in the production of their young, in providing 

 for them when produced; and even then, 

 though they drive them forth to fight their 

 own battles, yet the old ones still retain their 

 former affection to each other, and seldom part 

 far asunder. 



But it is very different with this luxurious 

 class I am now describing. Their courtship 

 is but short and their congress fortuitous. The 

 male takes no heed of his offspring, and satis- 

 fied with the pleasure of getting, leaves to the 

 female all the care of providing for posterity. 

 Wild and irregular in his appetites, he ranges 

 from one to another ; and claims every fe- 

 male which he is strong enough to keep from 

 his fellows. Though timorous when opposed 

 to birds of prey, yet he is incredibly bold 

 among those of his own kind ; and but to see 

 a male of his own species is sufficient to pro- 

 duce a combat. As his desires extend to all, 

 every creature becomes his enemy that pre- 

 tends to be his rival. 



The female, equally without fidelity or at- 

 tachment, yields to the most powerful. She 

 stands by a quiet meretricious spectator of 

 their fury, ready to reward the conqueror with 

 every compliance. She takes upon herself all 

 the labour of hatching and bringing up her 

 young, and chooses a place for hatching as re- 

 mote as possible from the cock. Indeed she 

 gives herself very little trouble in making her 

 nest, as her young ones are to leave it the in- 

 stant they part from the shell. 



She is equally unassisted in providing for 



her young, that are not fed with meat put into 

 their mouths, as in other classes of the fea- 

 thered kind, but peck their food, and forsaking 

 their nests, run here and there, following the 

 parent wherever it is to be found. She leads 

 them forward where they are likely to have 

 the greatest quantity of grain, and takes care 

 to show, by pecking, the sort proper for them 

 to seek for. Though at other times voracious, 

 she is then abstemious to an extreme degree ; 

 and intent only on providing for, and showing 

 her young clutch their food, she scarcely takes 

 any nourishment herself. Her parental pride 

 seems to overpower every other appetite : but 

 that decreases in proportion as her young ones 

 are more able to provide for themselves, and 

 then all her voracious habits return. 1 



Among the other habits peculiar to this 



1 I take great delight in observing the habits of the 

 animals in my farm-yard. The old gander watches the 

 sitting goose with great care, and will sometimes take 

 his place on her nest. He is always forward to protect 

 the goslings, and hisses at and runs after any thing from 

 which he apprehends danger. The cock struts before 

 the hens, and never seems so happy as when he collects 

 them about him to feast upon a grain of corn or an in- 

 sect which he has found. This gallantry is, I believe, 

 peculiar to our domestic cock, and does him no little! 

 credit. He fights to the last extremity with any intru- 

 der, and if he is beaten, appears to consider himself un- 

 worthy of the society of his former mates, and mopes in 

 a corner, the very picture of wretchedness. 



Hen turkies are dull, and seem, less capable of enjoy- 

 ment than any birds I know. I have watched them 

 stretching out their necks, and stupidly looking for a 

 quarter of an hour together at a small tuft of grass, 

 making short, low cries all the time. On going up to 

 examine what occasioned this unusual movement, I have 

 found a toad or frog concealed in the grass. Curiosity, 

 more than fear, appeared to have attracted the turkies to 

 the spot. They are bad mothers, and frequently tram- 

 ple on their young, appearing to disregard their cries. 

 Unlike the hen, they do not take any trouble in procur- 

 ing food for their young. Ducks are in a prodigious 

 bustle when they quit their nests for food, and make a 

 great outcry when the drake comes up to greet their ar- 

 rival again in the poultry -yard. They run into the 

 pond, flap their wings, and then come out, and are very 

 clamorous till food is brought them. The young ducks, 

 as soon as they are hatched, take to the water, and dart 

 after flies with the greatest activity. I am always sorry 

 to see the anxiety and misery of a hen who has hatched 

 ducks, instead of her natural progeny. When they take 

 to the water she is in a perfect agony, running round the 

 brink of the pond, and sometimes flying into it, in hopes 

 of rescuing her brood from the danger she apprehends 

 them to be in. A friend of mine observed a remarkable 

 instance of the degree to which this natural apprehension 

 for her brood may be overcome in the hen by the habit ot 

 nursing ducks. A hen, who had reared three broods of 

 ducks in three successive years, became habituated to 

 their taking to the water, and would fly to a large stone 

 in the middle of the pond, and patiently and quietly 

 watch her brood as they swam about it. The fourth 

 year she hatched her own eggs, and finding that her 

 chickens did not take to the water as the ducklings had 

 done, she flew to the stone in the pond, and called them 

 to her with the utmost eagerness. This recollection of 

 the habits of her former charge, though it had taken place 

 a year before, is not a little curious. Jesse's Gleanings. 



