KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



161 



THE CUCKOO, 



AND 



ITS PECULIAR HABITS. 



O, hateful Error, — Melancholy's child ! 



Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men 



The things that are n ot? Shakspeare. 



'Twixt truth and error, there's this difference known, 

 Error is fruitful— truth is only ONE. 



He rrick . 



OME two years since, there was 

 a grand newspaper controversy 

 about the habits of this bird, 

 and it was one in which we per- 

 sonally took a part. We have, 

 as our readers will have per- 

 ceived, been requested more than 

 once, to give the pith of the matter in our 

 columns. We preferred waiting until the 

 cuckoo was again about to visit us, and now 

 we perforin our promise. We long once 

 more to hear this " messenger of spring." 



The grand dispute — a very silly one, by- 

 the-bye — was whether, on certain occasions, 

 the cuckoo assisted in feeding her young or 

 not ? The vast correspondence published on 

 this subject, abundantly proves the truth of 

 the fact that the cuckoo does assist, and 

 also (another equally ridiculously disputed 

 point) that the female cuckoo does utter 

 the well-known cry of "cuckoo! cuckoo!" 

 The old, musty and well-thumbed books of 

 former days, are taken down and referred to 

 by the dissentients, as their " authority ; " 

 but close observers of modern times, and 

 students of nature, who live in the fields, 

 have verified, as " facts," what, up to a certain 

 date, was a matter of surmise only. These 

 documents have appeared in the Gardeners 1 

 Chronicle, the Gardeners' 1 Journal, and 

 other popular papers. To reprint them all, 

 would fill more than a whole number of our 

 Journal. Charles Waterton, the old 

 veteran, has quite set at rest the silly remark 

 about the hedge-sparrow's nest not being seen 

 in July. 



We have ourself seen newly-built nests in 

 August, and had young hedge-sparrows in 

 our own garden at the end of that same 

 month. Many others testify to the same 

 fact. Indeed, it were idle to argue the point. 

 The controversy was provoked by a Mr. 

 Henry Doubleday, of Epping, who, it would 

 appear, entertained some personal pique 

 against Mr. J. Mcintosh, a naturalist of 

 note, residing at Dorchester. This last 

 gentleman, a writer in the Gardeners' Chro- 

 nicle, the Naturalist, the late Mr, Loudon's 

 Magazine of Natural History, etc., etc., pro- 

 voked Mr. Doubleday's ire, by the following 

 remarks on the cuckoo, which appeared in 

 the Naturalist, and which were commented 

 on in terms of high praise by the Gardeners' 1 

 Chronicle : — 



It is generally supposed by ornithologists that 

 the " cuckoo " does not feed its young ; that 

 having deposited its egg in the nest of the hedge 

 accentor, or some other small bird, it leaves it 

 to the care of a foster-mother. On this subject I 

 am in possession of proofs to overthrow this long- 

 established belief. In the summer of 1850, in 

 the month of July, a hedge accentor constructed 

 its nest in a holly hedge ; about two feet from 

 the ground, and about fourteen from an adjoin- 

 ing garden wall. Immediately on its being 

 finished, and before the owner of it had time to 

 deposit her second egg, a cuckoo, which had for 

 some days past been watching with anxious eye 

 the operations of the accentor, took the oppor- 

 tunity, and during the temporary absence of the 

 said hedge accentor, quietly deposited in the 

 nest her egg, which occupied but a few minutes. 

 She then immediately took her departure, (utter- 

 ing at the same time her well-known cry of 

 "cuckoo, cuckoo," in rapid succession) to a neigh- 

 boring elm tree. Of this egg, the hedge accen- 

 tor took no notice ; but deposited her four eggs, 

 and commenced incubation. In due time, this 

 important office was completed ; and three hedge 

 accentors and the cuckoo were brought to life (or 

 rather light),the fourth egg of the accentor proving 

 addled. In the course of three days, the young- 

 accentors, by some means (but by what means I 

 could not ascertain) took their departure ; as did 

 also their mother, whom I never saw again, nor any 

 remains of the young. The addled egg, however, 

 I found on the ground immediately beneath the 

 nest. This departure took place in the evening, 

 or early in the morning. On the fourth day, 

 seeing the old cuckoo frequently fluttering about 

 the hedge which contained the hedge accentor's 

 nest and the young cuckoo, I was induced to 

 watch her proceedings with some little care and 

 attention. Taking my stand at no great dis- 

 tance from the nest under the wall alluded to, in 

 a few minutes the old cuckoo flew over the wall 

 to the nest. I immediately applied a pocket 

 telescope to my eye, and very distinctly saw the 

 old bird feed its young. This operation I 

 watched for some time, every day ; creeping nearer 

 and nearer, till I could see distinctly the actual 

 feeding of the young without the aid of telescope 

 or spectacles. I now became anxious to know 

 whence the bird procured its food, (this, I ima- 

 gined, from its frequent visits to the nest, was at 

 no great distance,) and of what description it 

 was. Knowing the cuckoo to he particularly 

 fond of caterpillars, I walked into the garden, 

 where there were some gooseberry bushes covered 

 with caterpillars of Abraxas grossulariata. 

 Thither I bent my steps, and saw the cuckoo 

 engaged in clearing the bushes of the caterpillars. 

 When she had what she considered sufficient for 

 that meal, off she flew in a direct line over the 

 wall ; and, as if she had been shot, dropped on 

 the other side, where the hedge in question was. 

 In this manner the old bird continued to feed her 

 young as long as a caterpillar remained on the 

 bushes. When they were finished, she proceeded 

 to a field near in quest of food ; and through her 

 diligence, her progeny got as fat as a London 

 Alderman. This proves further to me that the 

 cuckoo lays but one egg ; at least this one could 

 have laid no more ; yet I never observed her 



Vol. III.— 11. 



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