CHAPTER TEN.
ALL AMONGST THE BIRD SKINS.
My aunt waylaid me with a very unpleasant task directly after dinner,but Uncle Dick saw my disappointment, and said that he must have me, soI escaped, and, to my great delight, we went at once to his room to goon unpacking the birds, my excitement and wonder increasing everyminute. I was rather disappointed with some of the skins, for they wereas plain and ordinary looking as sparrows or larks; but Uncle Dickseemed to set great store by them, and said that some of the plainestwere most valuable for their rarity.
Uncle Joe sat and looked on, saying very little, while Uncle Dick and Idid the unpacking and arranging, laying the beautiful skins out in rowsupon the boards and shelves.
"They wanted unpacking," said Uncle Dick, "for some of them are quitesoft and damp with exposure to the sea air. Well, Nat, what is it?"
"I was hoping to find some birds of paradise, uncle," I replied.
"Then your hopes will be disappointed, my boy, for the simple reasonthat my travels have been in Florida, Mexico, Central America, Peru, andBrazil, with a short stay of a few months in the West Indies."
"And are there no birds of paradise there, uncle?"
"No, my boy, nor yet within thousands of miles. Birds of paradise, asthey are called, are found in the isles of the eastern seas, the AruIsles and New Guinea."
"Oh! how I should like to go!" I cried.
"You?" he said laughing. "What for, Nat?"
"To shoot and collect, sir," I cried; "it must be grand."
"And dangerous, and wearisome," he said smiling. "You would soon wantto come back to Uncle Joe."
"I shouldn't like to leave Uncle Joe," I said thoughtfully; "but Ishould like to go all the same. I'd take Uncle Joe with me," I saidsuddenly. "He'd help me ever so."
Uncle Dick laughed, and we went on with our task, which never seemed toweary me, so delighted was I with the beauty of the birds. As one boxwas emptied another was begun, and by the time I had finished the secondI thought we had exhausted all the beauty of the collection, and saidso, but my uncle laughed.
"Why, we have not begun the chatterers yet, Nat," he said. "Let mesee--yes," he continued, "they should be in that box upon which youruncle's sitting."
Uncle Joe solemnly moved to another case and his late seat was opened,the layers of cotton-wool, in this case a little stained with sea-water,removed, and fresh beauties met my gaze.
"There, Nat," said Uncle Dick; "those are the fruits of a long stay inCentral America and the hotter parts of Peru. What do you think of thatbird?"
I uttered an exclamation of delight as I drew forth and laid gently inmy hand a short stumpy bird that must in life have been about as big asa very thick-set pigeon. But this bird was almost entirely of a richorange colour, saving its short wings and tail, which were of acinnamon-brown, and almost hidden by a fringe of curly, crisp orangeplumes, while the bird's beak was covered by the radiating crest,something like a frill, that arched over the little creature's head.
"Why, nothing could be more beautiful than that, uncle," I cried. "Whatis it?"
"The rock manakin, or chatterer," he replied; "an inhabitant of thehottest and most sterile parts of Central America. Here is another kindthat I shot in Peru. You see it is very similar but has less orangeabout it, and its crest is more like a tuft or shaving-brush than thelovely radiating ornament of the other bird. That is almost like awheel of feathers in rapid motion."
"And as orange as an orange," said Uncle Joe, approvingly.
"I thought we could not find any more beautiful birds in your boxes,uncle," I said.
"Oh! but we have not done yet, my boy; wait and see."
We went on with our task, the damp peculiar odour showing that it washigh time the cases were emptied.
"Now, Nat, we are coming to the cuckoos," he said, as I lifted a thinlayer of wool.
"It does seem curious for there to be cuckoos in America," I said.
"I don't see why, Nat," he replied, as he carefully arranged hisspecimens. "You remember I told you it was a cuckoo, probably fromMalacca, that you showed me you had bought; well, those you are about tounpack are some of the American representatives of the family. You willsee that they are soft-billed birds, with a very wide gape and bristleslike moustaches at the sides like thin bars to keep in the captives theytake."
"And what do they capture, sir?" I asked.
"Oh, caterpillars and butterflies and moths, Nat. Soft-bodiedcreatures. Nature has given each bird suitable bills for its work.Mind how you take out that bird. No: don't lift it yet. See, that toprow must come out after the whole of that layer which is arranged allover the top row's tails."
"What! do their tails go right along the box, uncle?" I cried.
"Yes, some of them, my boy. Be careful: those are very tender anddelicate birds."
I lifted one, and held it out to Uncle Joe, who came down from his seatto examine the glories of the bird I had in my hands.
It was something like the cinnamon-brown and crimson bird I had bought,but much larger. Its breast was of a vivid rosy crimson, and its backand head one mass of the most brilliant golden-green. Not the green ofa leaf or strand of grass, but the green of glittering burnished metalthat flashed and sparkled in the sunshine. It seemed impossible for itto be soft and downy, for each feather looked harsh, hard, and carvedout of the brilliant flashing metal, while turn it which way I would itflashed and looked bright.
"Well, Nat," said Uncle Dick, "what do you say to that?"
"Oh, uncle," I cried; "it is wonderful! But that cannot be a cuckoo."
"Why not, Nat? If cuckoos are slaty coloured here and have breastsstriped like a hawk, that is no reason why in the hot climates, wherethe sun burns your skin brown, they should not be brightly coloured inscarlet and green. You have seen that the modest speckled thrush ofEngland has for relatives thrushes of yellow and orange. What has thepoor cuckoo done that his hot country friends should not be gay?"
"But do these lovely creatures suck all the little birds' eggs to maketheir voices clear?"
"And when they cry `cuckoo' the summer draws near, eh, Nat? No, my boy,I think not. To begin with, I believe that it is all a vulgar errorabout the cuckoo sucking little birds' eggs. Doubtless cuckoos havebeen shot with eggs in their mouths, perhaps broken in the fall, but Ithink the eggs they carried were their own, which, after laying, theywere on their way to put in some other bird's nest to be hatched, as itis an established fact they do; and because they are very small eggspeople think they are those of some other bird that the cuckoo hasstolen."
"Are cuckoos' eggs small, uncle?" I said.
"Very, my boy, for so large a bird. I have seen them very little largerthan the wagtail's with which they were placed. Then as to their crying`cuckoo' when summer draws near. I have heard their notes, and theylive in a land of eternal summer. But go on emptying the case."
I drew out specimen after specimen, some even more beautiful than thefirst I had taken from the case, though some were far more sober intheir hues; but I had not taken out one yet from the top row. When atlast I set one of these free, with his tail quite a yard in length, myadmiration knew no bounds.
In colouring it was wonderfully like the first which I have described,but in addition it had a golden-green crest, and the long feathers ofthe tail were of the same brilliant metallic colour. It seemed to methen--and though now I find beauties in sober hues I do not think I canalter my opinion--one of the loveliest, I should say one of the mostmagnificent, birds in creation, and when fourteen of these wonderfulcreatures were laid side by side I could have stopped for hoursrevelling in their beauties.
"Well, Nat," said my uncle, who quite enjoyed my thorough admiration, "Ishould make quite a naturalist of you if I had you with me."
"Oh, if I could go!" I cried in an excited tone, at which he merelylaughed. "I'd give anything to see those birds alive."
"It requires some work and patience, my boy. I was a wh
ole year in themost inaccessible places hunting for those trogons before I got them."
"Trogons! Yes, you said they were trogons."
"_Trogon resplendens_. Those long-tailed feathers are fitly named, Nat,for they are splendid indeed."
"Glorious!" I cried enthusiastically; and though we worked for sometime longer my help was very poor, on account of the number of times Ikept turning to the splendid trogons to examine their beauties again andagain.
Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas Page 10