Chatterbox Stories of Natural History. Unknown

to the lake. The swan is also very valuable in clearing the ponds of weeds, and makes a most effective clearance, as they eat them before they rise to the surface. The swan affords a pleasing illustration of the love of the mother-bird for its young, and has been known to vanquish a fox who made an attack on its nest—showing that the instinct of motherhood kindles boldness and bravery in the breast of the most timid animals. The nest is generally made on an islet, and composed of reeds and rushes, and when the five or seven large eggs are hatched, the mother may be seen swimming about with the young ones on her back.

      THE SEA LION

      ALTHOUGH such large and powerful creatures, these sea lions are innocent and playful. See, one of them has reared himself up on his hind legs, if legs they may be called, and is sitting on a chair with his flappers over the back of the chair. It inhabits the eastern shores of Kamtchatka, and is in some places extremely abundant, and measuring about fifteen feet in length. It is much addicted to roaring, which, as much as the mane of the old males, has obtained for it the name of the Sea Lion. The old males have a fierce appearance, yet they fly in great haste on the approach of man, but if driven to extremities they will fight desperately; but in captivity they are capable of being tamed, and become very familiar with man. The scientific name of the sea lion is Otary.

      THE LION.

      A—THE ASS

      FORBEAR to vex the patient Ass,

      Its heaving sides to good,

      And for and safe its useful back

      Will carry many a load.

      B—THE BITTERN

      IN reedy swamp and lonely marsh,

      Where all is shade and gloom,

      The Bittern stalks, and you may hear

      His voice in sullen boom.

      C—THE CAMEL

      THE Camel is a useful beast,

      Patient, and slow, and mild;

      To man a blessing and a boon

      In Afric's sandy wild.

      BADGERS

      ONE day at the Zoological Gardens, I saw the group of Badgers as they are here given. Little do visitors to the gardens take into account how much a wild animal goes through till it has got used to a state of things so opposite to its natural habits. Their wants are attended to as much as possible, but cannot be always met; and so we have here a devoted mother, worn out by the demands of her cubs, and vainly anxious to hide herself from daylight and man's gaze. She has long given up trying to dig or scratch her way out. All she can do is to lean against the wall, ready for a last defence, should anybody come within her prison. She dares not curl up into a ball, like the one cub, and go to sleep; while this little careless imp on her back, happy and trustful, adds to her tiredness by his weight.

      THE BIRD'S NEST

      “Her little nest, so soft and warm,

      God teaches her to make it;

      I would not dare to do her harm,

      I would not dare to take it.”

      HOW curious is the structure of the nest of the Bullfinch or Chaffinch! The inside of it is lined with cotton and fine silken threads; and the outside cannot be sufficiently admired, though it is composed only of various kinds of fine moss. The color of these mosses, resembling that of the bark of the tree in which the nest is built, proves that the bird intended it should not be easily discovered. In some nests, hair, wool, and rushes are cleverly interwoven. In others, the parts are firmly fastened by a thread, which the bird makes of hemp, wool, hair, or, more commonly, of spiders' webs. Other birds—as, for instance, the blackbird and the lapwing—after they have constructed their nests, plaster the inside with mortar; they then stick upon it, while quite wet, some wool or moss to give warmth; but all alike construct their nests so as to add to their security.

      THE CHAMOIS

      THE chamois are indeed high-born, for among the high mountain-peaks, where the eternal snow rests and the Alpine roses bloom, there they make their home! There they spring up over the snowy slopes to those heights to which man cannot climb. They rest upon the glittering ice, the snow does not blind them, neither does it cool their hot blood. Carelessly they stride across the snowed-over crevices, and when the terrible storms, at which men are so alarmed, hurl down rocks and avalanches from the summits, the Chamois do not fear them. They find their way safely through the thickest mist and darkest clouds. Agile and light-footed, gentle and peaceable, proud and courageous, they lead a happy life among the mountains, as long as man does not molest them.

      JACKO WITH PUSSY'S BONE

      JACKO is a bird called a Macaw, and has fine feathers—scarlet and yellow and blue. Jacko can talk a little. He says, “Come along, Jacko, come along;” and when you come, as soon as he thinks you near enough, he pecks at you with his great beak. When he is in a good temper he will say, “Poor, poor!” He will sit upon the ivy all the morning and talk to himself, and he will call the gardener, and he will cough and sneeze, and crow and cackle, in a very funny manner. If Jacko sees sparrows picking up a few crumbs, he will rush up, sweeping his great wings along the ground, and take their meal for himself. If he sees poor Pussy picking a bone, he takes great delight in creeping down from his ivy, helping himself down with beak and claws, and at a sight of Jacko's approach Pussy darts away, leaving the bone in Jacko's possession. Pussy, of course, does not like this, but stands at a respectable distance, and with curved back and flashing eyes shows her indignation at Jacko. Presently Jacko retires to the ivy and Pussy resumes her feast.

      MEMBERS OF THE POACHING FRATERNITY

      AMONG the various wild animals which inhabit the earth, it is difficult to decide which are really friendly and which are really hostile to man's interests. The actual fact appears to be that there is neither hostility nor friendship. If farmers and gardeners kill off too many birds, nature revenges herself by sending a plague of insects which the small birds, if alive, would have eaten. Gamekeepers ruthlessly shoot hawks and kites, or snare stoats and polecats, with the result that their game grows up too thick for its feeding ground, sickly specimens are allowed to linger on, and a destructive murrain follows. The rook, no doubt, is fond of eggs; but nevertheless he does the farmer good service when he devours the grubs which are turned up by the plow; and as the salmon disease, which of late has proved so destructive, is attributed by the best authorities to overcrowding, that glossy-coated fisherman, the otter, is really a benefactor to the followers of Izaak Walton's gentle craft.

      NEDDY'S BREAKFAST.

      A COW WORKING A PUMP

      MY informant writes me as follows: “We have a wonderful cow here—about ten years old, and very clever at opening gates and breaking fences. There is an Abyssinnian pump about three feet high in the center of the field, near my house, over a trough, which is, or ought to be, filled daily. It was on a hot day, when my man