AFFECTION IN BIRDS. 129 



exact observer has often remarked, that a pair of ravens, 

 nesting in the rock of Gibraltar, would suffer no vulture or 

 eagle to rest near their station, but would drive them from the 

 hill with an amazing fury : even the blue thrush, at the season 

 of breeding, would dart out from the clefts of the rocks to 

 chase away the kestrel, or the sparrow-hawk. If you stand 

 near the nest of a bird that has young, she will not be induced 

 to betray them by an inadvertent fondness, but will wait about 

 at a distance, with meat in her mouth, for an hour together. 



Should I farther corroborate what I have advanced above, 

 by some anecdotes which I probably may have mentioned 

 before in conversation, yet you will, I trust, pardon the repe- 

 tition for the sake of the illustration. 



The fly-catcher of the Zoology (the stoparola of Ray) builds 

 every year in the vines that grow on the walls of my house.* 

 A pair of these little birds had one year inadvertently placed 

 their nest on a naked bough, perhaps in a shady time, not 

 being aware of the inconvenience that followed. But a hot 

 sunny season coming on before the brood was half fledged, 

 the reflection of the wall became insupportable, and must 

 inevitably have destroyed the tender young, had not affection 

 suggested an expedient, and prompted the parent birds to 

 hover over the nest all the hotter hours, while, with wings 

 expanded, and mouths gaping for breath, they screened off the 

 heat from their suffering offspring. 



A farther instance I once saw of notable sagacity in a willow- 

 wren, which had built in a bank in my fields. This bird a 

 friend and myself had observed as she sat in her nest, but were 

 particularly careful not to disturb her, though we saw she eyed 

 us with some degree of jealousy. Some days after, as we 

 passed that way, we were desirous of remarking how this brood 

 went on ; but no nest could be found, till I happened to take 

 up a large bundle of long green moss, as it were carelessly 

 thrown over the nest, in order to dodge the eye of any imper- 

 tinent intruder. 



A still more remarkable mixture of sagacity and instinct 

 occurred to me one day, as my people were pulling off the 

 lining of a hot-bed, in order to add some fresh dung*. From 

 out of the side of this bed leaped an animal with great agility, 



days, persevering during the whole of that time in defending the entrance ; 

 and the wren, after many fruitless attempts to force the works, raised the 

 siege, quitted her intentions, and left the martens in quiet possession of 

 their dwelling. ED. 



* The beam bird, muscicapa grisola of Linnaeus. ED. 

 I 



