110 
duction of the gun-rod only caused the persecuted bird to retreat as far as it could, 
and when I was employed in removing some pebbles and gravel from behind the 
stone, it slipped out under water, and proceeded down the stream a considerable 
way before it rose to breathe. I noticed the place where it dived in under the 
bank, and it being at length obliged to come up to respire I met the bird with my 
hand, and so secured it. 
Men are not much accustomed to regard with interest or compassion the suf¬ 
ferings of animals, especially of the smaller species ; and although the death of an 
Elephant at Exeter ’Change, or a Giraffe in Windsor Park, may make a great 
noise—that of a Mouse in a trap, or a Snipe in a springe, is as little considered as 
the fall of a leaf or a flake of snow. The most melancholy ornithological exhibi¬ 
tion that I remember to have witnessed, was that of a wounded Dipper, which 
was shot through the lungs, above Cramond Bridge, near Edinburgh. It stood 
still without attempting to fly off, apparently insensible to all external objects, its 
legs bent, its wings drooping, its head declined. The blood was oozing from its 
side and gurgling in its windpipe, which the poor bird made ineffectual efforts to 
clear. At intervals, a convulsive heaving of the chest took place, followed by an 
effort to vomit; and in this state the sufferer stood for five minutes until I got 
over the stream to it, when it expired in my hand. In the agony of death, the 
pupil became contracted to a mere point, and presently after dilated; when the 
lower eyelid gradually rose and covered the eye. This is commonly the case 
in birds, which do not expire with the eyes open, like man and most quadrupeds. 
I may here remark that there are two very expeditious modes of killing a 
wounded bird: one, first shewn to me by my friend Mr. Audubon, consists of 
squeezing with the finger and thumb the sides of the bird against its heart, which 
in a very few seconds ceases to act: the other, which is still more rapidly effec¬ 
tual, is to introduce a pin between the occiput and atlas, and thus lacerate the 
spinal cord. 
When wounded and caught, the Dipper struggles hard, grasping firmly with 
the feet, but does not attempt to bite. I mention this circumstance as common 
to certain species of birds, such as the Fieldfare, Blackbird, and Starling, which, 
without possessing the power of annoying their enemy, yet do not tamely suffer 
themselves to be destroyed, but struggle to the last, undismayed and ready to use 
the slightest chance of escape. Other species, equal in strength, such as the 
Snipe, the Golden Plover, and the Lapwing, do not struggle so vigorously, but 
meet their fate in a quiet and apparently stupid manner. Some birds, again, such 
as the Titmice and some Sylvice , although evidently extremely frightened on being 
seized, watch every opportunity of biting. I need scarcely add that some, as the 
Kestril and Sparrowhawk, grasp and bite with as much good will as effect. These 
diversities of character may in general be traced to differences in organization; 
but the general rules or laws to which one might attempt to reduce them are not 
easily detected. 
