THE NUTHATCH. 



there is no making any remarks on such a restless 

 tribe ; and, when once the young begin to appear, 



pillars of the cage ; on these he spent his most elaborate 

 taps, and at this moment, though he only occupied the cage 

 a day, the wood is pierced and worn like a piece of old 

 worm-eaten timber. He probably had an idea, that if these 

 main beams could once be penetrated, the rest of the super- 

 structure would fall, and free him. Against the doorway 

 he had also a particular spite, and once succeeded in opening 

 it ; and when, to interpose a further obstacle, it was tied in a 

 double knot with a string, the perpetual application of his 

 beak quickly unloosed it. In ordinary cages, a circular hole 

 is left in the wire for the bird to insert his head to drink 

 from a glass ; to this hole the nuthatch constantly repaired, 

 not for the purpose of drinking, but to try to push out more 

 than his head, but in vain, for he is a thick bird, and rather 

 heavily built ; but the instant he found the hole too small, 

 he would withdraw his head, and begin to dig and hammer 

 at the circle, where it is rooted in the wood, with his pick- 

 axe of a beak, evidently with a design to enlarge the orifice. 

 His labour was incessant, and he ate as largely as he worked ; 

 and, I fear, it was the united effects of both that killed him. 

 His hammering was peculiarly laborious, for he did not 

 peck as other birds do, but, grasping his hold with his im- 

 mense feet, he turned upon them as upon a pivot, and 

 struck with the whole weight of his body, thus assuming 

 the appearance, with his entire form, of the head of a 

 hammer ; or, as I have sometimes seen birds, in mechanical 

 clocks, made to strike the hour by swinging on a wheel. 

 We were in hopes that when the sun went down, he would 

 cease from his labours, and rest ; but no ; at the interval 

 of every ten minutes, up to nine or ten in the night, he 

 resumed his knocking, and strongly reminded us of the 

 coffin-maker's nightly and dreary occupation. It was said 

 by one of us, ' he is nailing his own coffin ;' and so it 

 proved. An awful fluttering in the cage, now covered with 

 a handkerchief, announced that something was wrong; 

 and we found him at the bottom of his prison, with his fea- 

 thers ruffled and nearly all turned back. He was taken 

 out, and for some time he lingered away in convulsions, 

 and occasional brightenings up. At length he drew his 

 last gasp : and will it be believed, that tears were shed on 

 his demise ? The fact is, that the apparent intelligence 



