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UNCLE THOMAS TELLS ABOUT THE GOLDEN EAGLE, AND NARRATES VARIOUS STORIES ILLUSTRATIVE OF ITS FEROCITY AND POWER.

Uncle Thomas had scarcely finished his last series of Tales, when he was gratified by a visit from the Mama of his young auditors, to introduce her two little Girls, who, having heard their Brothers speak so much of the delightful Stories which he told them, had prevailed on her to come with them to request that Uncle Thomas would be so good as to permit them to accompany their Brothers when they came to visit him.

“I am afraid, Uncle Thomas,” said Mama, “that we already trespass too much on your kindness, in allowing the Boys to intrude upon you so frequently; but they seem always to be so much delighted with the Stories which you tell them that, during the hours in which they are not engaged in the school-room, I seldom hear them talk of any thing else. ‘Don’t you recollect the story which Uncle Thomas told us?’ cries one, in enforcing some controverted point. ‘Ah! but,’ exclaims another, ‘Uncle Thomas said so and so.’ And I have come at the request of their Sisters to beg that you will allow them to form part of your little circle of listeners.”

Uncle Thomas declared that he was delighted to hear that the Boys were interested in the Stories which he told them, and that he would be still more gratified to be honoured with the company of the young ladies.

Mary and Jane, who during Mama’s long speech had been carefully noting the various articles with which Uncle Thomas’s little room was furnished, were almost overjoyed to hear that they were to be admitted. Mary intended to have thanked Uncle Thomas for this kindness, but while some other conversation, which it is unnecessary to repeat, took place between Mama and Uncle Thomas, her attention had been directed by Frank to a glass-case which stood on one side of the room, containing a variety of fine specimens of Birds. So completely was their attention engrossed by what they there saw, that they did not observe that during a pause in the conversation Uncle Thomas had advanced to the table at which they stood, and was listening to their remarks and to the questions with which Mary plied her brother.

“Ah! I see,” said Uncle Thomas, “it is about Birds I must tell you next. I can tell you many interesting stories about Birds; but Mama waits; we must not detain her at present.”

“When shall we come again then, Uncle Thomas?” asked Frank.

“When you please, Frank,” said Uncle Thomas. “Suppose we say to-morrow night; perhaps that will suit the convenience of the young ladies.”

“Oh, quite, Uncle Thomas!” said Mary; “it will be quite convenient for us whenever it is so to you.” Mama having given her assent to this arrangement, the little party, full of smiles, bade Uncle Thomas good morning.

On the following evening, accordingly, they again met, and when they had duly greeted their kind old Uncle Thomas, and seated themselves round his elbow-chair, he began:—

“Birds, my dear children, of which I promised to tell you some stories, are perhaps the most interesting class of animals in creation, whether we consider them in regard to their habits or to the curious structure of their bodies, by which they have been fitted by Nature for the place which God has assigned them, or to the Instincts which have been implanted in them. In most minds their recollection is associated with all that is most beautiful and romantic in natural scenery. We meet with them in our walks, chirping and frolicking among the village hedgerows, or see them soaring, with almost untiring wing, high above the mountain tops, or hear their solitary voices as they make the wide-spreading and desolate moor seem even more lonely with their harsh and far-sounding notes. Wherever we direct our steps we are sure to find Birds enlivening and cheering the scene, or adding fresh interest by their varied and characteristic occupations. There are few indeed who cannot say with Cowper:—

“Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one

The live-long night; nor those alone whose notes

Nice-fingered art must emulate in vain;

But cawing rooks, and kites, that swim sublime

In still repeated circles, screaming loud;

The jay, the pie, and e’en the boding owl,

That hails the rising moon, have charms for me.”

“Birds,” continued Uncle Thomas, “have been divided by some naturalists into Land and Water Birds; but more recent and systematic writers have introduced a more extended classification. Cuvier, an eminent French author, divides them into Birds of Prey—such as the Eagle and Vulture; Sparrow-like, or hopping Birds—such as Jays, Thrushes, &c.; Climbing Birds—such as Parrots; Poultry Birds—such as Turkeys, Pheasants, &c.; Running and Wading Birds, which are easily distinguished by their long legs; and Web-footed Birds—such as Ducks, Geese, Swans, &c.”

To this long and rather uninteresting detail Mary and Jane listened as patiently as possible. But no sooner was it finished, than the latter seized the opportunity to ask Uncle Thomas whether the Eagle was not the largest Bird in the world, and whether it was a native of Britain, as she had heard a story lately of one having carried off a child to its nest to feed its young?

“The largest of the Birds of Prey, undoubtedly,” said Uncle Thomas, “is the Golden Eagle. It inhabits all the wilder parts of Europe, and is also found in other parts of the world. They are, however, only to be found among wild and savage scenery, preferring for their place of habitation the lonely and elevated peaks of the highest mountains, where, from their great power, they harbour secure from the storm and the tempest.”

“Are they very large, Uncle Thomas?” asked Jane—“Larger than this bird?” pointing to a fine Falcon, which occupied a prominent place in the little museum already referred to.

“Yes, dear!” said Uncle Thomas; “they are much larger, very much larger than that. Like all other animals, they are of course subject to variations in size; their development in some measure depending on the plentifulness or scarcity of their food during the time they are in the nest, and indeed during the whole period until they arrive at their full growth; but the average size of the mature Bird is usually about three feet in length, measuring from the point of the beak to the tip of the tail, while the wings from point to point measure between six and seven feet.”

“They must be very powerful animals, Uncle Thomas,” remarked Mary.

“So strong, that they frequently carry off lambs and other small animals to their nests,” said Uncle Thomas; “and it is said that they have even occasionally carried away children. About a hundred years ago an incident of this kind is said to have occurred in Norway. While a boy about two years old was passing between his father’s cottage and a field at no great distance, in which his parents were at work, an Eagle pounced upon him and flew off with him. His parents, attracted by his shrieks, saw their dear child carried off to an inaccessible rock, and notwithstanding all their efforts, they were unable to rescue him.”

“And was the poor dear child killed, Uncle Thomas?” asked Jane.

“It appears from the story that he was,” said Uncle Thomas, “and unfortunately it is not the only instance of a similar kind. In one of the Feroe Islands, which lie between the north of Scotland and Iceland, an Eagle stooped down and carried away an infant which its mother had laid on the ground, close by the place where she was at work. It flew direct to its nest, at the point of a high rock so steep and precipitous that the boldest bird-catchers had never ventured to scale it. But the strength of a mother’s love overcame all obstacles; she climbed to the nest, but alas! she reached it too late. She found her poor child dead and partly devoured—its little eyes torn out by the cruel bird!

“I am happy to say, however,” continued Uncle Thomas, “that all attacks of the kind do not terminate so fatally. A child which was carried off by an Eagle in the Isle of Skye, in Scotland, was borne by the huge bird across a lake on the banks of which it sat down, probably for the purpose of feeding on its prey, which it perhaps found too heavy to carry farther. Fortunately however, it happened that the bird alighted at a short distance from some people who were herding sheep, and hearing the infant cry, they hurried to the spot, frightened away the Eagle, and rescued it uninjured.”

“It was very fortunate they were so near,” remarked Harry.

“It was so,” said Uncle Thomas, “and the parents were in this respect more fortunate than those of another child which was carried off by an Eagle from the side of its mother, who was at work in the fields. She saw the huge bird pounce down on her little darling, but before she could run to its assistance it was carried off, and she heard its cries as it was borne out of her sight, and she saw it no more. This took place in Sweden.

“Though the Eagle has long had the character of being a very bold and courageous bird,” continued Uncle Thomas, “it really does not deserve its good name. It is sometimes called the King of Birds, and if the term is limited, so as to convey only an idea of its great size and strength, it may be permitted; but we must not allow ourselves to be misled by a mere name. It is in truth almost the least courageous among birds, and is frequently put to flight by those of less than half its size.”

“Do they ever attack men?” asked Frank.

“Unless when they are forced to put forth their strength in self-defence, which is an instinctive operation which even the weakest animals display,” replied Uncle Thomas, “they never attack man; at least the only instance which I recollect of their threatening to do so is related by Captain Flinders, in his account of his voyage to New South Wales. While he and some of his officers were walking on shore, a large Eagle, with fierce looks and out-spread wings, was seen bounding towards them; when it arrived within a few yards it suddenly stopped and flew up into a tree. They had hardly got rid of this one, when a second flew towards them as if to pounce upon them, but it also stopped short when quite close upon them.”

“I suppose they were afraid, then,” said Mary.

“Captain Flinders imagined,” said Uncle Thomas, “that the Eagles had at first mistaken him and his officers for Kangaroos; and as the place seemed then quite uninhabited, he conjectured that the Eagles had never seen a man before; and he observed that they fed on those animals, as on the appearance of one, the Eagle stooped down at once and tore it in pieces in an instant.

“That the Eagle can defend itself very vigorously, however,” continued Uncle Thomas, “is proved by an adventure which a young man had with one in the Highlands of Scotland. He had gone out very early one morning to shoot Rock Pigeons, accompanied by a Dog of the terrier breed. As he stood watching the Pigeons, an Eagle came floating over the brow of the precipice. He took aim and fired, and the bird fell to the ground with a broken wing. He attempted to master it with his hands, but it fought with great determination, and lacerated his hands so that he was obliged to desist. He then caused his Dog to attack it, but though well accustomed to fight with Badgers and with Otters, it soon found that they were weak foes compared to the Eagle, and ran yelping away. The sportsman was at last compelled to knock it on the head with the end of his gun, nor was it killed till it had received about a dozen heavy blows. He described it as having legs as thick as his wrist.”

“It must have been a very strong Bird,” remarked Jane.

“It is perhaps only under the influence of extreme hunger, or in defense of themselves or their young,” continued Uncle Thomas, “that the Eagle ever attacks human beings. Probably to the former of these is to be attributed the attack of one on a little boy of which I will now tell you:—

“A few years ago, as two boys, the one about seven and the other five years old, were amusing themselves in trying to reap during the time that their parents were at dinner, in a field in the neighbourhood of New York, a large Eagle came sailing over them, and with a swoop attempted to seize the eldest, but luckily missed him. Not at all dismayed, the Bird alighted on the ground at a short distance, and in a few moments repeated the attempt. The bold little fellow defended himself with the sickle in his hand, and when the bird rushed upon him, he struck it. The sickle entered under the left wing, went through the ribs, and proved instantly fatal. On being measured, it was found that from the tip of one wing to that of the other, was upwards of six feet! Its stomach was opened, and found to be entirely empty. The little boy did not receive a scratch.”

“He must have been a bold little fellow,” said Jane.

“Do you think you should have fought as determinedly, John?” asked Mary.

John was, however, too modest to return an answer directly in the affirmative. He merely said mildly, “I don’t know, Mary; I hope I should.”

Uncle Thomas, seeing that this story of the valiant defence of the little boy excited so much interest among his little auditors, produced a portfolio, in which he kept a few choice prints, one of which contained a representation of the boy defending himself against the Eagle. When they had done admiring it, Uncle Thomas continued:—

“Powerful as the Eagle is, it is frequently vanquished by the animals on which it seizes. It has been observed while soaring into the sky with its prey suddenly to falter in its flight, and then to fall to the earth as if pierced with a ball by some skilful marksman. A gamekeeper to a Scottish nobleman, who witnessed a scene of this kind, hurried to the spot, and found the Eagle quite dead, and a Stoat, an animal of the Weasel kind, severely wounded, struggling by its side. The little animal on being seized by the Eagle had with instinctive sagacity seized upon and ruptured one of the principal arteries in the Eagle’s neck, and thus brought his enemy to the ground.

“I wonder such a large and powerful animal as the Eagle did not kill the little Stoat before it had time to seize its neck,” said Harry.

“Recollect, Harry,” said Jane, “that Weasels are very nimble creatures. As we were walking through Langton Wood lately, we saw one running about, but it soon got among some loose stones and concealed itself.”

“Perhaps,” said Uncle Thomas, “the Eagle had missed its aim when it pounced upon its prey, and thus held it insecurely, for so powerful is the force with which it darts upon its object, that it usually kills its victim at one blow. When it fails to do this, a contest generally ensues; and powerful as the Eagle is, it does not always come off successful. On one occasion, one was observed to pounce down upon a Cat. The latter darted its sharp claws into the Eagle and clung so that it could not be shaken off. It mounted into the air, but still puss held securely, and on descending to the ground the struggle continued, until some persons who witnessed the attack came up and captured both of the combatants.

“A contest, somewhat of the same kind,” continued Uncle Thomas, “was observed between an Otter and an Eagle. It was witnessed by a party of gentlemen who were enjoying the amusement of fishing in one of the Scottish Lakes. An Eagle, hovering over the lake, descried an Otter sleeping on the sunny side of a bank near the water’s edge, and pounced upon it. Thus attacked, the Otter stood on the alert, and prepared to give battle to its assailant, when another Eagle appeared, and joined in the attack. The unfortunate Otter, finding himself assaulted on both sides, immediately retreated to his favourite element. On reaching the water, it attempted to dive, but was powerfully withheld by one of the Eagles, whose talons had been fixed in his skin, which made him redouble his exertions for life and liberty. In this way the combat was long and amusing, till the Eagle, finding his claws fairly disengaged, and little used to combat on such an element, precipitately beat a retreat, and retired with his companion to his native mountains.”

“I have heard Mama say that there is a tame Eagle at —— Castle; I wonder how such a wild creature can be tamed!” remarked Jane.

“There have been frequent instances of the Eagle being tamed,” said Uncle Thomas, “and sometimes even when taken after having arrived at maturity. One of this sort, which was taken in Ireland, had its wings cut, and was put into a large garden, where it soon became domesticated. Its wings gradually grew again, and the Eagle sometimes flew away for a fortnight at a time, but always returned. The children of the family frequently met it in their walks about the garden, but it never offered them any molestation. It once, however, attacked its master; it is supposed in consequence of his neglecting to bring its accustomed supply of food. After living ten or twelve years in this manner it one day quarrelled with a large mastiff. The fight must have been long and obstinate, but no one witnessed it. The Eagle was killed, and so severely was the Dog wounded that it died almost immediately afterwards.

“In Norway,” continued Uncle Thomas, “the people represent the Eagle as very sagacious, and as using the most curious devices to secure its prey. It is said, for instance, to attack and overcome Oxen in the following manner. It plunges into the sea, and after being completely drenched, rolls itself on the shore till its wings are quite covered with sand. It then rises into the air, and hovers over its unfortunate victim, and, when close to it, shakes its wings, and throws stones and sand into the eyes of the Ox; and, having thus blinded it, terrifies the animal by striking it with its powerful wings. The poor Ox runs about quite desperate, and at length falls down completely exhausted, or dashes itself to death by falling over some cliff. The Eagle then feasts undisturbed on his prey.”

“It is a very sagacious stratagem indeed,” said Mary; “I really do not see how it could proceed more efficiently if it was endowed with reason.

“But is it true?” asked Harry.

“You are right Harry,” said Uncle Thomas; “that ought always to be the first consideration. So much fable has been mixed up with the accounts of the habits of animals that it is sometimes difficult to distinguish the true from the false. In the present case, for instance, the fact rests on the statement of a traveller named Von Buch, who assures us that the circumstance was related to him, in nearly the same terms, at places distant from each other. But, on the other hand, it is so contrary to the general habits of the Eagle that it seems most unlikely to be true; besides, if the Eagle were to suffer its feathers to be drenched in the way described, it would be unable to fly, and would soon suffer for its hardihood by being drowned.”

“Would it, indeed, Uncle Thomas?” asked Jane; “Swans and Geese go into the water, and are not drowned.”

“No, my dear, they are not,” said Uncle Thomas; “because their habits rendering it necessary for them to spend much of their time in water, the Creator has furnished them with an abundant supply of oily matter, with which they cover their feathers, so as to prevent the moisture from penetrating them; but Birds which are not intended to inhabit the water are not so provided, and would soon become unable to fly, even if they remained exposed to a severe shower of rain, without seeking shelter. The Osprey, or Sea-Eagle, which feeds upon fish which it catches in the sea, is provided in this manner; but then it could not be true of the Osprey either, because for this reason, the water does not saturate its feathers, and the sand would not adhere to them.”

“Is it not true, then?” asked Mary.

“I do not say that it is absolutely untrue,” said Uncle Thomas; “because the person who relates it states that it was confirmed to him by various witnesses, in different places; but I think it is very unlikely, to say the least of it.

“However much we may differ as to the sagacity of the Eagle,” continued Uncle Thomas, “there can be but one opinion as to its affection for its young, and the valour with which it defends them against all assailants. Ebel, in his work on Switzerland, relates a story of a chasseur, or hunter of that country, which illustrates this fact very strikingly. Having discovered a nest belonging to one of these terrible birds, and having killed the male, the hunter, by name Joseph Schoren, crept along the jut of a rock, his feet bare, the better to keep himself firm, in the hope of catching the young ones. He raised his arm, and had already his hand upon the nest, when the female, pouncing on him from above, struck her talons through his arm, and her beak into his loins. The hunter, whom the smallest movement would have precipitated to the bottom, lost not his presence of mind, but remained firm, rested his fowling piece, which fortunately he held in his left hand, against the rock, and with his foot directing it full on the Bird, touched the trigger, and she fell dead. He brought away the Eagles, but the wounds which he had received confined him for several months. M. Ebel adds, that these hunters are men of whom the savages of America might learn lessons of patience and courage in the midst of danger and privation. The greater part of them come to a tragical end. They disappear, and their disfigured remains, which are now and then found, alone intimate their fate.”

Uncle Thomas went on to say that he had not yet quite finished all his stories about the Eagle; but as the evening was now far advanced, it would be necessary to delay them till their next meeting.