Homes Without Hands: Being a Description of the Habitations of Animals, Classed According to Their Principle of Construction

Being, in common with all true naturalists, a lover of birds in their living state, and being in no wise disposed to kill them without necessity, he had contrived to tame a pair of little brown birds, which at last became so familiar that they would enter his tent. On these terms they remained until the beginning of the breeding season, when they began to come less regularly, and then to absent themselves for several successive days. About this time they became thieves. M. Le Vaillant was accustomed to keep on his table a quantity of tow and cotton wool, which he used in stuffing and otherwise preparing the skins which he had procured for his collection. The birds seemed suddenly to take a wonderful fancy to the tow and cotton wool, and were continually flying off with them, sometimes stealing a piece that was nearly as large as both the birds together.

Struck with this sudden fancy of the birds, Le Vaillant determined to watch them, and soon traced them to a capoc-bosche tree which grew at some distance, and in a remarkably retired spot. Among the branches of this tree they had already begun their nest, which consisted of a quantity of moss pressed tightly into the forks of a bough, and which was at the time only in a rudimentary condition. The moss, in fact, was the foundation of the nest, upon which the beautiful walls were intended to be built, just as in the habitation of many other birds there is a foundation of substances more solid than the materials of which the walls are made.

Into this nest the Capociers were weaving the stolen stores of cotton wool, working it in a manner that will be presently described. Le Vaillant soon discovered that the legitimate substance of the nest-walls was the soft white down produced by certain plants, and that the birds used an enormous amount of materials in comparison with their own size. As, however, they found that upon the naturalist's table was always a plentiful supply of vegetable down and fibres ready plucked, they ingeniously saved themselves the trouble of collecting, and simply resorted to the hospitable tent.

The male was the principal collector of materials, and the female the chief architect. He used to fly off, and return with a mass of cotton wool, moss, or tow, and deposit it close to the spot where his mate was at work. Then she would take the materials, arrange them, press them into form, and only ask his assistance in carrying out her plans. He pressed, and pecked, and pulled the cotton wool so as to reduce it to a kind of felt, but did not seem to originate any architectural ideas, leaving them to his more ingenious mate.

Le Vaillant's account of the mode of working is so interesting and elegant, that, in justice to himself, it must be given in his own words. After describing the process of fetching materials and laying them in their places, he proceeds as follows:

"This agreeable occupation was often interrupted by innocent and playful gambols, though the female appeared to be so actively and anxiously employed about her building as to have less relish for trifling than the male, and she even punished him for his frolics by pecking him well with her beak. He, on the other hand, fought in his turn, pecked, pulled down the work which they had done, prevented the female from continuing her labors, and, in a word, seemed to tell her, 'On account of this work you refuse to be my playmate, therefore you shall not do it.'

"It will scarcely be credited that, entirely from what I saw and knew respecting these little altercations, I was both surprised and angry at the female. In order, however, to save the fabric from spoliation, she left off working, and fled from bush to bush, for the express purpose of teasing him. Soon afterward, having made matters up again, the female returned to her labor, and the male sang for several minutes in the most animated strains. After his song was concluded he began again to occupy himself with the work, and with fresh ardor carried such materials as his companion required, till the spirit of frolic again became buoyant, and a scene similar to that which I have described occurred. I have witnessed eight interruptions of this kind in one morning. How happy birds are! They are certainly the privileged creatures of nature, thus to work and sport alternately, as fancy prompts them.

"On the third day the birds began to rear the side walls of the nest, after having rendered the body compact by repeatedly pressing the materials with their breasts, and turning themselves round upon them in all directions. They first formed a plain border, which they afterward trimmed, and upon this they piled up tufts of cotton, which was fitted into the structure by beating and pressing it with their breasts and the shoulders of their wings, taking care to arrange any projecting corner with their beaks, so as to interlace it into the tissue, and to render it more firm. As the work proceeded, the contiguous branches of the bush were enveloped in the side walls, but without damaging the circular cavity of the interior. This part of the nest required many materials, so that I was quite astonished at the quantity which they used.

"On the seventh day their task was finished, and, being anxious to examine the interior, I determined to introduce my finger, when I felt an egg that had been probably laid that morning, for on the previous evening I could see that there was no egg in it, as it was not quite covered in.

"This beautiful edifice, which was as white as snow, was nine inches in height on the outside, while in the inside it was not more than five. Its external form was very irregular, on account of the branches which it had been found necessary to inclose; but the inside exactly resembled a pullet's egg placed with the smaller end upward. Its greatest diameter was five inches, and the smallest four. The entrance was two thirds or more of the whole height as seen on the outside, but within it almost reached the arch of the ceiling above."

One of the most remarkable points of this singularly beautiful nest is the firm texture of the walls. Externally, the nest looks as if it were a mere large hollow bunch of cotton wool with a hole near the top, and seems to be so fragile that the eggs would fall through the fabric. But when the inside of the nest is viewed, it is seen to be composed of a kind of felt, as firm and close as if it had been formed by human art, so that neither wind nor wet can penetrate; and it is capable of upholding a much greater weight than would be introduced into it. To pull out a tuft of the cotton wool is impossible without tearing a hole in the fabric, so closely are the delicate fibres interwoven with each other.

In the accompanying illustration are shown the nests of two species of Humming-bird.

The oddly-shaped nest which occupies the upper part of the drawing is made by the Fiery Topaz (Topaza pyra), one of the most magnificent of these lovely birds. Indeed, Prince Lucien Bonaparte calls it the most beautiful of the Trochilidæ, and it is hardly possible to imagine a bird that can surpass it in brilliancy. The body is fiery scarlet, the head velvet-black, the throat glittering emerald, with a patch of crimson in the centre; the lower part of the back is also green, and the long, slender, crossed feathers of the tail are purple with a green gloss. So magnificent a bird can have but few rivals, and there is only one species which even

Fiery Topaz and Hermit.

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approaches it in beauty. This is the Crimson Topaz (Topaza pella), a bird which is nearly allied to it, and which much resembles it in general coloring. It may, however, be distinguished by the color of the body, which is crimson instead of scarlet.

Curiously enough, although it is bedecked with resplendent hues, which seem to need the presence of daylight, and to be made expressly for the purpose of reflecting the brightest beams of the sun, yet the lovely bird is one of the night wanderers, being seldom seen as long as the sun is above the horizon, and preferring to seek its food while the world is shrouded in darkness. Perhaps the reader may remember that the sea-mouse, whose iridescent garment possesses all the tints of the rainbow, is also a darkness lover, and passes its life sunk in the black mud of the sea-shore.

The nest which is built by the Fiery Topaz is really a wonderful structure.

Its shape is remarkable, and is well shown in the illustration.

It is fastened to the branch with extreme care, as is clearly necessary from its general form. The most curious point about the nest is, however, the material of which it is made. When it was first discovered no one knew how the bird could have built so strange a structure. It looked as if it were made of very coarse buff leather, and was so similar in hue to the branches that surrounded it, that it seemed more like a natural excrescence than a bird's nest. The reason for this similitude was simple enough. It was made of a natural excrescence, and therefore resembled one.

When the Fiery Topaz wishes to build a nest, it goes off to the trees, and searches for a kind of fungus belonging to the genus Boletus, and with this singular material it makes its home. It is tough, leathery, thick, and soft, and in some curious manner the bird contrives to mould the apparently intractable substance into the shape which is represented in the illustration. The non-botanical reader may form an idea of the appearance of the nest by supposing it to be made of German tinder, which is, in fact, a kind of boletus which has been pressed, dried, and steeped in a weak solution of nitre.

The lower figure in the same illustration represents the nest of another Humming-bird (Phaëthornis eurynome), belonging to the pretty little group which are popularly called Hermits, and which may be recognized by the peculiar shape of the tail, which is regularly graduated, the two central feathers being, however, much longer than the others. They are inhabitants of Venezuela.

All the Hermits are remarkable for the beauty of their homes, and the present species is mentioned as affording a good example of nest-making. The nest is always long and funnel-shaped, and is hung either to a leaf or the delicate twig of a tree, according to circumstances. The materials of which the nest is made are rather various, consisting of vegetable fibres, especially those downy, cotton-like filaments which are furnished by so many plants, of small herbs, and spider-webs. The last-mentioned substance is employed for the purpose of binding the materials together, and is used also in fastening the nest to the support on which it hangs.

THERE is another species of this beautiful group, called the RUBY-THROATED HUMMING-BIRD (Trochilus colubris), which is generally accepted as the typical species. This lovely bird is plentiful in many parts of America, and is sometimes seen as far north as Canada. It derives its popular name from the feathers of the throat, which glitter as if made of burnished metal, and glow with alternate tints of ruby and orange. The general color of the body is green, and the wings are purple-brown. The two sexes are colored after the same manner, with the exception of the ruby gorget, which only belongs to the male, and which is not attained until the second year. There is no species more common in museums and ornamental cases than this, because it is as plentiful as it is lovely. That it should be plentiful, or indeed that any species of Humming-bird should be any thing but scarce, is matter of wonder, inasmuch as they never lay more than two eggs, and, in all probability, do not rear more than three, or perhaps four young in the course of a season.