THE CUCKOO. 49 



THE CUCKOO 



Is one of the most noted of the feathered race ; and, although 

 it cannot boast any great variety or beauty of plumage, is re- 

 markable for the elegance of its form and the peculiarity of its 

 habits. It is somewhat smaller than a pigeon, but in its form 

 resembles a hawk, and its colour is a greyish blue. Its note is 

 universally known ; and as it announces the approach of sum- 

 mer, is always listened to with pleasure : but the particulars of 

 its history are involved in obscurity, and the country to which it 

 migrates is yet unknown. 



The cuckoo -Appears to be a bird of the rapacious kind : 

 Reaumur, who brought up several, found them to be carnivorous ; 

 for flesh and insects constituted their favourite aliment, and they 

 would not feed either on bread or corn. The voracity of the 

 cuckoo is not, indeed, to be wondered at, when we consider the 

 capaciousness of its stomach, which is enormous, and reaches 

 from the breast-bone to the vent. 



The female cuckoo makes no nest of her own, but, invading 

 that of some other bird, very often of the wagtail or the sparrow, 

 destroys the eggs, and substitutes her own in the place. She 

 seldom lays more than one, which is speckled, and similar to 

 that of the black-bird in size. The bird, on its return, not dis- 

 covering the cheat, nurtures the egg of her insidious invader with 

 the same assiduity as if it were her own; and when the change- 

 ling is excluded from the shell, continues to feed it with parental 

 tenderness, ignorant that she is nursing an enemy to her race, 

 and a destroyer of her future progeny. 



When the young cuckoo is fledged, it quits its supposititious 

 parent, and follows its native propensities. What becomes of 

 this tribe in the winter season, is wholly unknown. Some assert 

 that it takes refuge in the clefts of rocks, hollow trees, and 

 other similar retreats, where it remains in a torpid state until 

 the return of spring. Willoughby relates a curious story of 

 some logs of willow being laid on the fire, when a cuckoo, being 

 revived by the sensation of heat, began to utter its notes, to the 

 astonishment of all who were present. A number of similar 

 stories have been related, and, as is frequently the case, the 

 same tale has been often travestied, exaggerated, and multiplied 

 into a number, through the love of the marvellous, or for the 

 support of a favourite opinion. The most general, however, as 

 well as the most probable supposition, is, that on the approach 

 of winter, the cuckoo, as well as the swallow, migrates to warmer 

 climates. 



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