205 
ON BIRD SUPERSTITIONS. 
|VER since the days when the phcenix, the bird which 
lived for five hundred years, and from whose ashes a 
young phoenix arose, puzzled my brain and severely 
tested the resources of my Latin dictionary, I have 
been deeply interested in bird superstitions and curious fancies 
about birds. Of course, years ago there were many more super- 
stitions than at present, but still it is surprising what a number 
are yet to be met with. I have omitted the very old ones and a 
good number which are too local to be of general interest. 
Perhaps no family has more superstitions connected with it 
than the Corvidae, and foremost amongst these comes the 
magpie, who has so many that it is quite difficult to make a fair 
selection. Generally he is considered as unlucky, and has full 
powers of ill-wishing, but in Cornwall he is looked upon as 
decidedly lucky, and there is a custom, which is, however, very 
local, of spitting on your boot at the sight of one. This being a 
rather undignified, as well as a difficult performance on a windy 
day, it has been changed by some to doffing the hat. An odd 
number of magpies is unlucky, but an even number is lucky. 
For very many years the raven has been considered a bird of 
ill-omen, and his hoarse croak has conveyed many warnings to 
those who believe in such things. I have heard of instances in 
which persons have actually abandoned a project simply because 
a raven has flown across their path. 
The chough also has an evil name, and is said by Carew* to 
be rather dangerous, “in carrying stickes of fire.” I suppose 
this refers to its red beak and legs. 
The French naturalist, Buffon, discovered that the beak of 
the crossbill was “an error of Nature rather than a permanent 
feature.” Those who have read Carew probably remember the 
quaint old passage about the crossbills which came into Cornwall 
about the time he wrote. “ It was taken at first,” he says, 
“ for a forboden token ” (whatever that may mean), “and much 
admired, but, soone after, notice grew, that Glocester Shire and 
other Apple Countries, have them an over-familiar harme.” To 
my mind it always conjures up a picture of some rosy-faced old 
farmers watching their apples being destroyed, and standing with 
open-mouths watching the “ forboden token.” But presently, 
when they learn from their rivals in other countries that the 
token is but an “ over-familiar harme,” and that powder and shot, 
or whatever were the means of destruction in Cornwall in those 
days, will really effect a cure, they rush off at top-speed, each 
for his favourite blunderbuss, and try to save what the}^ can of 
their crops. 
Perhaps the most amusing of all superstitions is that of 
* “ The Survey of Cornwall,” by Richard Caiew. 1602, 410. 
