AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



81 



" In a few days the sore assumed a healthy look, and in 

 ten days was perfectly healed up — although, at times, I 

 yet experience a heavy pain in the part from whence the 

 worm has been taken. It had travelled on the periosteum, 

 along the tibia for at least two inches. The severe pain 

 which I experienced for those periods, I attribute to the 

 irritation of some of the branches of the nerves distributed 

 to the parts by the worm in its progress. Respecting this 

 worm their are different opinions among the Spaniards and 

 Creoles. Ouche is the name it is called by some, who sa)^ 

 it is produced by a worm which crawls on the body, from 

 the ground, and penetrating the skin, increases in size. 

 Others maintain that they are produced from the sting of a 

 winged insect which they call Zancudo, others call the 

 insect Husano; for my part I am rather inclined to think 

 that they are produced from the sting of a winged insect 

 which deposits its egg." 



Larva of Qilslrus Hominis. 



THE VOICES OF BIRDS. 



RtTRAL sounds, the voices, the language of the wild crea- 

 tures, as heard by the naturalist, belong to, and are in 

 concord with the country only. Our sight, our smell, may 

 perhaps be deceived for an interval by conservatories, hor- 

 ticultural arts, and bowers of sweets; but our hearing can 

 in no way be beguiled by any semblance of what is heard 

 in the grove or the field. The hum, the murmur, the 

 medley of the mead, is peculiarly its own, admits of no 

 imitation, and the voices of our birds convey particular 

 intimation, and distinctly notify the various periods of the 

 year, with an accuracy as certain as they are detailed in our 

 calendars. The season of spring is always announced as 

 approaching by the notes of the rookery, by the jangle or 

 wooing accents of the dark frequenters of its trees; and 

 that time having passed away, these contentions and ca- 

 dences are no longer heard. The cuckoo then comes, and 

 informs us that spring has arrived; that he has journeyed 

 to us, borne by gentle gales in sunny daj's; that fragrant 

 flowers are in the copse and the mead, and all things telling 

 of gratulation and of joy: the children mark this well- 

 known sound, spring out, and cuckoo! cuckoo! as they 

 gambol down the lane: the very plough-boy bids him wel- 

 come in the early morn. It is hardly spring without the 

 cuckoo's song; and having told his tale, he has voice for 

 X 



no more — is silent or away. Then comes the dark, swift- 

 winged martin, glancing through the air, that seems afraid 

 to visit our uncertain clime: he comes, though late, and 

 hurries through his business here, eager again to depart, 

 all day long in agitation and precipitate flight. The bland 

 zephyrs of the spring have no charms with them; but bask- 

 ing and careering in the sultry gleams of June and July, 

 they associate in throngs, and, screaming, dash round the 

 steeple or the ruined tower, to serenade their nesting mates; 

 and glare and heat are in their train. When the fervour of 

 summer ceases, this bird of the sun will depart. The even- 

 ing robin, from the summit of some leafless bough, or pro- 

 jecting point, tells us that autumn is come, and brings 

 matured fruits, chilly airs, and sober hours, and he, the 

 lonely minstrel now that sings, is understood by all. These 

 four birds thus indicate a separate season, have no intefe- 

 rence with the intelligence of the other, nor could they be 

 transposed without the loss of all the meaning they convey 

 which no contrivance of art could supply; and, by long 

 association, they have become identified with the period, 

 and in peculiar accordance with the time. 



We note birds in general more from their voices than 

 their plumage; for the carols of spring may be heard in- 

 voluntarily, but to observe the form and decoration of these 

 creatures, requires an attention not always given. Yet we 

 have some native birds beautifully and conspicuously fea- 

 thered; the goldfinch, the chafiinch, the wagtails, are all 

 eminently adorned, and the fine gradations of sober browns 

 in several others, are very pleasing. Those sweet sounds, 

 called the song of birds, proceed only from the male; and, 

 with a few exceptions, only during the season of incuba- 

 tion. Hence the comparative quietness of our summer 

 months, when this care is over, except from accidental 

 causes, where a second nest is formed; few of our birds 

 bringing up more than one brood in the season. The red- 

 breast, blackbird, and thrush, in mild winters, may conti- 

 nually be heard, and form exceptions to the general pro- 

 cedure of our British birds; and we have one little bird, 

 the woodlark, [alauda arborea) that, in the early parts 

 of the autumnal months delights us with its harmony, and 

 its carols may be heard in the air commonly during the 

 calm sunny mornings of this season. They have a softness 

 and quietness, perfectly in unison with the sober, almost 

 melancholj^, stillness of the hour. The skylark, also, sings 

 now, and its song is very sweet, full of harmony, cheerful 

 as the blue sky and gladdening beam in which it circles 

 and sports, and known and admired by all; but the voice 

 of the woodlark is local, not so generally heard, from its 

 softness must almost be listened for, to be distinguished, 

 and has not any pretensions to the hilarity of the former. 

 This little bird sings likewise in the spring; but, at that 



