PERCHING BIRDS. 157 



On the 20th of August, 1860, I witnessed with great 

 interest a pied wagtail feeding a young cuckoo. I was 

 crossing the bridge in the village, when I saw the cuckoo 

 perched on the upper rail of a fence which divided the 

 meadow from the stream, the spot where it sat being 

 about fifteen yards below the bridge. The stream was 

 shallow and partially filled with weed-beds, and on 

 these the wagtail was running in its usual rapid manner, 

 seizing first one insect and then another, which it directly 

 conveyed to its foster-child on the fence. There the 

 great overgrown baby sat, eagerly receiving the food 

 from its tiny friend, but looking far more able to provide 

 for itself. I stood on the bridge watching the pair for a 

 quarter of an hour, and during the whole of this time 

 the wagtail was constantly feeding the cuckoo, which sat 

 so quietly that I thought it was unable to fly far, and 

 that perhaps I might effect its capture. I accordingly 

 got over the hedge into the meadow, and went cautiously 

 towards the spot, which it allowed me to do until I was 

 about three yards from it, when it flew off and settled 

 on a pump that stood in the meadow at a short distance. 

 The poor wagtail seemed distressed, and followed it to 

 the pump, where it again resumed its feeding. On my 

 approaching a little nearer it again took flight, but with 

 such strength of wing as to convince me that I had been 

 mistaken in thinking I could make it a prisoner. It 

 settled on the top of an alder tree, and from there flew 

 out of sight, the little wagtail faithfully following in its 

 wake. It was evidently a strong, vigorous bird, equal 

 to a long flight, and would doubtless soon take its 

 departure. 



Some have supposed that the cry of the cuckoo 

 is only uttered by the male bird, but this has been 



