ON THE INSTINCTS OF BIRDS. 133 
the heavy blows of the beetle or mallet, the tree 
nodded to its fall; but still the dam sat on. At last, 
when it gave way, the bird was flung from her nest, 
and, though her parental affection deserved a better 
fate, was whipped down by the twigs, which brought 
her dead to the ground.” 
That ardent affection which most birds feel for 
their young seems to awaken their dormant energies, 
and to inspire them with a degree of courage and 
address that is called forth on no other occasion. 
Nor is the violence of this affection, to use the 
language of Mr. White, more wonderful than the 
shortness of its duration. Thus every hen is, in her 
turn, the virago of the yard in proportion to the 
helplessness of her brood, and will fly in the face of a 
dog or a sow in defence of those chickens which in 
a few weeks she will drive before her with relentless 
cruelty. The Partridge will tumble along before a 
sportsman in order to draw away the dogs from her 
helpless covey ; and a very exact observer (the Rey. 
John White) has 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 amazing fury; and 
that 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. Indeed, so 
regardless of danger are some species while their 
nestlings are small, that I have known the Redbreast, 
