290 Humane .Robins. 



^•oung robin ; to our ears the querulous cry of one 

 for food is confusingly like that of another : 3'et the 

 various parent birds easily distinguish, recognize, 

 and feed their own young. Then to suppose that, 

 with such powers of observation — with the keenness 

 of vision that can detect an insect or a worm moving 

 in the grass from a branch twenty feet or more 

 above it, and detect it while to all appearance en- 

 gaged in watching your approach — to suppose that 

 the robin does not know that the cuckoo is not of its 

 order is past credit. The robin is much too intelli- 

 gent. Why, then, does he feed the intruder? There 

 is something here approaching to the sentiment of 

 humanity, as-we should call it, towards the fellow- 

 creature. 



The cuckoo remained in the cage for some time 

 after it had attained sufficient size to shift for itself, 

 but the robins did not desert it : the}' clearly- under- 

 stood that while thus confined it had no power of ob- 

 taining food and must starve. Unfortunatel}', a cat 

 at last discovered the cuckoo, which was found on 

 the ground dead but not eaten. The robins came to 

 the spot afterwards — not with food, but as if they 

 missed their charge. 



The easy explanation of a blind instinct is not 

 satisfactory to me. On the other hand, the doctrine 

 of heredity hardly explains the facts, because how 

 few birds' ancestors can have had experience in 

 cuckoo-rearing? There is no analogy with the cases 

 of goats and other animals suckling strange species ; 

 because in those instances there is the motive — at all 

 eyents in the beginning — of relief from the painful 

 pressure of the milk. But the robins had no such 



