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

THE nest of the NIGHTINGALE (Luscinia Philomela) could hardly be classed in any of the preceding groups, and therefore takes its place among the miscellaneous habitations.

The Nightingale.

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It is not built in the branches, nor in a hole, nor suspended from a bough, nor absolutely on the ground. It is always set very near the ground, and in most cases it is scarcely raised more than a few inches above the soil. In one sense it is not a pretty nest. It is certainly not a neat one, and its apparent roughness of construction is probably intended to make it less conspicuous. The discovery of a Nightingale’s nest is not an easy task, unless the eye be directed to the spot by watching the movements of the bird. It is always most carefully hidden under growing foliage, and so well is it concealed that, even in places where Nightingales abound, the detection of a nest is always welcome to the egg-hunter.

THE ALBATROSS.

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The materials of the nest are equally calculated for concealment, consisting of straw, grass, little sticks, and dried leaves, all being jumbled together with such “artless art,” that even when a nest is seen its real nature often escapes the discoverer. If the same materials were seen in a branch at any height from the ground they would at once attract attention, but in the position which they occupy they look like a mass of loose débris that has been blown by the wind and arrested by the foliage among which it has lodged.

The eggs are equally inconspicuous, being dull olive-brown, without a spot or streak. After they are laid, the lively song of the Nightingale becomes less and less frequent, while after the young are hatched the bird is silent until the next season. The Nightingale is as anxious to conceal itself as its nest, and never intentionally shows its brown plumage, though it will sing within six feet of a listener who will remain quiet. In the spring the bird seems as if it must sing, no matter who may be near, and its spirit of rivalry is so great that the “jug-jug” of one Nightingale is sure to set singing all the others within hearing.

THE WANDERING ALBATROSS (Diomedea exulans), the giant of the petrel tribe, makes its nest after a peculiar fashion.

It chooses the summit of lofty precipices near the sea, and its nest may be found most plentifully in Tristan d’Acunha and the Marion Islands. The Albatross is lord of the country, and no other living being seems to intrude upon its nesting-place. So completely do the birds feel themselves masters of the situation, that if a human being penetrates to their haunts, they quietly move about as if he were non-existent, and do not appear to take the least notice of him. On such elevated positions the cold is necessarily intense, but the Albatross cares not for the cold, and brings up its white-coated young in a temperature that few human beings like to endure longer than needful.

No particular bed seems necessary for the egg, for the mother bird simply deposits it on the bare ground, and then scrapes earth round it so as to form a small circular wall, as may be seen by reference to the illustration. If their nest be approached very closely, the alarmed parents snap their bills like angry owls; and if they wish to be aggressive, they discharge from their bills a quantity of oil; but they seem to have no ideas of actual fight. The Albatross lays only one egg.

Our last sample of “Homes without Hands” is the ingenious structure that is made by the COOT (Fulica atra), the BALD Coot

The Coot.

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as it is sometimes called, on account of the horny plate on the forehead, which is pink during the breeding season, and white during the rest of the year. Although the general color of the Coot is black, it is a pretty bird when in the water, and if the day be calm, the reflection on the surface has a very curious effect, the white patch appearing as if it rose to the surface of the water every time that the bird nods its head in the act of swimming.

The favorite nesting-places of the Coot are little islands on which the grass grows rankly. Failing them, it will make its nest among reeds and rushes, binding and twisting them together until they are firm enough to support the weight of the nest, the bird, and the many eggs. Should it not find either of these localities, it will build on the edge of the water, and almost invariably contrives to make its nest in such a manner that it can not be reached from the land. The quantity of reeds, bulrushes, sedges, grass, and other materials used in the nest is very surprising; and yet, in spite of its large dimensions, it is not a conspicuous object. The nest contains a great number of eggs, seldom less than seven, and sometimes twelve or fourteen. They are whitish, and profusely spotted with irregular brown marks.

In the illustration the haunts of the Coot are well represented. In the foreground is seen one of the grass tussocks, of which a pair of Coots have taken possession, and in which the young are seen under the protection of their parents. Similar tussocks protrude from the shallow water, and from one of them the mother Coot is issuing, followed by her young brood. In the background are seen a pair of swans, one of which is bearing her young on her back, according to the custom of her kind.

As is the case with many of the illustrations to this work, the sketch was taken from nature.

INDEX.

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INDEX.

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