CHAPTER II.

THE CRANE.

THERE is something extraordinary in the different accounts we have of this bird's size and dimensions. Willoughby and Pennant make the crane from five to six feet long from the tip to the tail. Other accounts say, that it is above five feet high; and others, that it is as tall as a man. From the many which I myself had seen, I own this imputed magnitude surprised me, as from memory I was convinced they could neither be so long nor so tall. Indeed a bird, the body of which is not larger than that of a turkey-hen, and acknowledged on all hands not to weigh above ten pounds, cannot easily be supposed to be almost as long as an ostrich. Brisson, however, seems to give this bird its real dimensions, when he describes it as something less than the brown stork, about three feet high, and about four from the tip to the tail. Still, however, the numerous testimonies of its superior size are not to be totally rejected; and perhaps that from which Brisson took his dimensions was one of the smallest of the kind.

The crane, taking its dimensions from him, is exactly three feet four inches from the tip to the tail, and four feet from the head to the toe. It is a tall slender bird, with a long neck and long legs. The top of the head is covered with black bristles, and the back of it is bald and red, which sufficiently distinguishes this bird from the stork, to which it is very nearly allied in size and figure. The plumage, in general, is ash-coloured; and there are two large tufts of fathers that spring from the pinion of each wing. These bear a resemblance to hair, and are finely curled at the ends, which the bird has a power

of erecting and depressing at pleasure. Gesner says that these feathers, in his time, used to be set in gold, and worn as ornaments in caps.

Such are the dimensions of a bird, concerning which, not to mention modern times, there have been more fables propagated than of any other. It is a bird with which all the ancient writers are familiar, and in describing it they have not failed to mix imagination with history. From the policy of the cranes, they say, we are to look for an idea of the most perfect republic amongst ourselves; from their tenderness to their decrepit parents, which they take care to nourish, to cherish, and support when flying, we are to learn lessons of filial piety; but particularly from their conduct in fighting with the pigmies of Æthiopia, we are to receive our maxims in the art of war. In early times the history of nature fell to the lot of poets only, and certainly none could describe it so well: but it is a part of their province to embellish also; and when this agreeable science was claimed by a more sober class of people, they were obliged to take the accounts of things as they found them; and in the present instance, fable ran down, blended with truth, to posterity.

In these accounts, therefore, there is some foundation of truth, yet much more has been added by fancy. The crane is certainly a very social bird, and they are seldom seen alone. Their usual method of flying or sitting is in flocks of fifty or sixty together; and while a part feed, the rest stand like sentinels upon duty. The fable of their supporting their aged parents may have arisen from their strict connubial affection; and as for their fighting with the pigmies, it may not be improbable but that they have boldly withstood the invasions of monkeys coming to rob their nests; for, in this case, as the crane lives upon vegetables, it is not probable that it would be the first aggressor.

However this be, the crane is a wandering sociable bird, that for the most part subsists upon vegetables, and is known in every country of Europe except our own. There is no part of the world, says Bellonius, where the fields are cultivated, that the crane does not come in with the husbandman for a share in the harvest. As they are birds of passage, they are seen to depart and return regularly at those seasons when their provision invites or repels them. They generally leave Europe about the latter end of autumn, and return in the beginning of summer. In the inland parts of the continent they are seen crossing the country in flocks of fifty, or a hundred, making from the northern regions towards the south. In these migrations, however, they are not so resolutely bent upon going forward, but that if a field of corn offers in their way they will stop a while to regale upon it: on such occasions they do incredible damage, chiefly in the night; and the husbandman, who lies down in joyful expectation, rises in the morning to see his fields laid entirely waste, by an enemy whose march is too swift for his vengeance to overtake.

Our own country is free from their visits, not but that they were formerly known in this island, and held in great estimation for the delicacy of their flesh; there was even a penalty upon such as destroyed their eggs; but at present they never go so far out of their way. Cultivation and populousness go hand in hand; and though our fields may offer them great plenty, yet it is so guarded, that the birds find the venture greater than the enjoyment, and probably we are much better off by their absence than their company. Whatever their flesh might once have been, when, as Plutarch tells us, cranes were blinded and kept in coops, to be fattened for the tables of the great in Rome; or as they were

brought up, stuffed with mint and rue, to the tables of our nobles at home; at present they are considered all over Europe as wretched eating. The flesh is fibrous and dry, requiring much preparation to make it palatable; and even after every art, it is fit only for the stomachs of strong and labouring people.

The cold arctic region seems to be this bird's favourite abode. They come down into the more southern parts of Europe rather as visitants than inhabitants; yet it is not well known in what manner they portion out their time to the different parts of the world. The migrations of the field-fare or thrush are obvious and well known; they go northward or southward, in one simple track; when their food fails them here, they have but one region to go to. But it is otherwise with the crane: he changes place, like a wanderer; he spends the autumn in Europe; he then flies off, probably to some more southern climate, to enjoy a part of the winter; returns to Europe in the spring; crosses up to the north in summer; visits those lakes that are never dry; and then comes down again, to make depredations upon our cultivated grounds in autumn. Thus, Gesner assures us, that the cranes usually begin to quit Germany from about the eleventh of September to the seventeenth of October; from thence they were seen flying southward by thousands; and Redi tells us they arrive in Tuscany a short time after. There they tear up the fields, newly sown, for the grain just committed to the ground, and do great mischief. It is to be supposed, that in the severity of winter they go southward, still nearer the Line. They again appear in the fields of Pisa regularly about the twentieth of February, to anticipate the spring.

In these journey's it is amazing to conceive the heights to which they ascend when they fly. Their note is the loudest of all other birds; and that is of

ten heard in the clouds, when the bird itself is entirely unseen. As it is light for its size, and spreads a large expanse of wing, it is capable of floating at the greatest height, where the air is lightest; and as it secures its safety, and is entirely out of the reach of man, it flies in tracts which would be too fatiguing for any other birds to move forward in.

In these aërial journeys, though unseen themselves, they have the distinctest vision of every object below. They govern and direct their flight by their cries; and exhort each other to proceed or to descend, when a fit opportunity offers for depredation. Their voice, it was observed, is the loudest of all the feathered tribe; and its peculiar clangour arises from the very extraordinary length and contortion of the windpipe. In quadrupeds the windpipe is short, and the glottis, or cartilages that form the voice, are at that end of it which is next the mouth: in water fowl the windpipe is longer, but the cartilages that form the voice are at the other end, which lies down in their belly. By this means they have much louder voices, in proportion to their size, than any other animals whatever; for the note, when formed below, is reverberated through all the rings of the windpipe till it reaches the air. But the voice of the duck or the goose is nothing to be compared to that of the crane, whose windpipe is not only made in the same manner with theirs, but is above twenty times as long. Nature seems to have bestowed much pains in lengthening out this organ. From the outside it enters through the flesh into the breast-bone, which hath a great cavity within to receive it. There, being thrice reflected, it goes out again at the same hole, and so turns down to the lungs; and thus enters the body a second time. The loud clangorous sound which the bird is thus enabled to produce, is, when near, almost deafening; however, it is particu