Page:Hardwicke's Science-Gossip - Volume 1.pdf/215

The changes of plumage which occur in some of the birds of our own country will be familiar to most of our readers. In nearly all birds a manifest increase both in the colour and brilliancy of their plumage takes place at the commencement of the breeding season, and afterwards is lost, gradually in some species, more suddenly in others. The golden-coloured specks on the feathers of the common starling are thus lost after the breeding season, by the extreme tip of each feather breaking off. In some of our native birds the assumption of additional colours in the spring is made with great rapidity, as in the black-headed bunting and the black-headed gull, especially in the latter.

None of our British birds can, however, vie for a moment with the Blue Wren of Australia, either in the extraordinary changes of colour, or in the rapidity with which they are assumed, and I have often witnessed the transformation with wonder and admiration.

In his ordinary dress (for it is only in the male that the change takes place), our friend is a very unostentacious little fellow, dressed in a suit of plain russet from head to foot. His disposition is in harmony with his dress, he makes no attempt to attract attention, but quite content to pursue the "even tenor of his way," he sings his hurried strain, caring little whether it is applauded or not.

This we may call his normal state, but no sooner does his little breast feel the glow of love than all is changed—plumage, disposition, and manners. Like human lovers, he is desirous of placing himself to the best advantage in the eyes of the fair one he has chosen; and, in addition to other attractions, personal appearance must have due attention. And now comes the marvellous transformation: his russet suit is exchanged for a sky-blue satin vest, which glows with a metallic lustre, and a black velvet coat (of course of the richest Genoa), while his head is adorned with a graceful covering of the same resplendent blue.

But love's transforming power extends to his disposition as well as his dress; his whole nature seems to have received a new impulse, and his obtrusive bashfulness is replaced by a confident boldness, as if aware that he had become the "cynosure of neighbouring eyes." Now sprightly and vivacious he pours forth his song unceasingly, bounding along with rapid, elastic hops, as if he knew not how to contain his joy.

This remarkable change continues until the lady he has chosen has concluded her maternal duties, but no longer. He doubtless feels that velvets and satins are too fine for workday duties, and, like a prudent paterfamilias, his holiday apparel is put away till another season, and the homely russet once more resumed.

My readers must understand that if my language has been somewhat figurative, I have been simply describing facts.

The ordinary plumage of the Blue Wren is plain brown, the tail feathers being of a darker hue.

During the winter season they assemble in small flocks, but as the spring approaches they separate into pairs, and the male bird then undergoes the extraordinary transformation I have described.

In precise language, his nuptial dress is as follows:

Crown of the head, ear-coverts, and a lunar-shaped mark on the upper part of the back, like a tippet, bright sky-blue, with a metallic hue and texture; lores, line over the eye, occiput, scapularies, back, rump, and upper tail-coverts, rich velvety black; throat and chest, bluish black; tail, blackish blue, tipped with white; wings, brown; under surface, buffy white, tinged bluish on the flanks.

The rapidity with which this brilliant additional plumage is put on is surprising; about a week or ten days sufficing for its production, and after a few months wear, it is thrown off with equal or greater rapidity.

It is a pretty sight to watch these little fellows in their gay attire, and often as I have seen it, it has always been with fresh pleasure. It is fond of wild, scrubby districts, where brushwood alternates with open spaces. It is plentiful in the extensive botanical gardens on the bank of the Yarra, at Melbourne, and may be seen there to great advantage, for it is secure from murderous guns, and seems to understand and appreciate its security.

There are six species, inhabiting various parts of the Australian continent, and all are remarkable for the same changes of plumage. One or two species found in the northern parts have the colours more richly diversified, a rich cinnamon brown being added to the black and blue.

On a fine summer evening, a few years ago, with a careless stroke, which happened with rather true aim, I brought down a noisy blow-fly that was buzzing about me. Seeing it not likely to recover the effects of the blow, I thought it better to put it out of pain, and kill it outright. To do so, I took up a penknife and cut off its head, supposing that to be a very short way to effect this object. The fly thus decapitated gave several energetic whirls on its back, and then became quite still and motionless. A few hours after I touched the headless trunk, when, to my astonishment, it whirled round again as briskly as ever; and for many a day I wondered how it could be that any insect could