THE NATURALIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 2921, 9 March 1910, Page 76

THE NATURALIST.

Where J>o Birds Die? —An Interesting Problem.— What becomes of all the. birds that die a natural death? How i,s it that we so seldom come across the dead bodies of birds that have met their death in an ordinary way—that is. owing to old age or some natural disease ? The problem is not a new one, for just over 70 years ago, Jesse, the naturalist, wrote in his famous "Gleanings in Natural History":—"lt has always struck me as a curious fact that during my walks I have but .very rarely met with a dead bird. When we consider the countless myriads of birds of various kinds and how few of them, comparatively speaking, are killed by man or taken alive., it becomes a matter of curious inquiry what becomes of the vast remainder." The famous naturalist goes on to suggest that when birds are overtaken by old age or disease they get into holes and hedges and die. But, he pertinently asks, Who ever found any in such places? He also remarks tnat, even supposing great numbers of birds are destroyed by vermin, it is 6eldom thai, the remains of bones or feathers are so discovered. —Few Succumb to Old Age. —

Probably the answer to the question, "What becomes of all the birds that die?" is to be found in the fact that very few birds actually die of old age or disease. The war of extermination carried on by other birds of a rapacious nature and by those four-footed beasts that the gamekeeper describes as "vermin" is constant and relentless, and the mortality from this cause alone is no doubt exceedingly heavy among young birds of every kind. Thousands of little birds must be destroyed by birds and beasts of prey during the spring and summer, at which time what little remains in the way of bones and feathers is not likely to be discovered by the human eye, because the whole of the land is covered with vegetation and the woods are thick with foliage. Even in a bare and open field or meadow the few tiny bones cf a young bird, and its feathers, would be washed away by the first showei or covered over with mud. The falling leaves in autumn would hide every teace of the innumerable tragedies of this kind that occur every summer. The fact that a large proportion of our British birds are more or less migratory in their habits must also account for a much heavier percentage of mortality than might be supposed to exist. —Telegraph Wire. Deaths.—-

Some of these move only overland from one part of the kingdom to another; others—including, of course, those species that spend the summer or the winter with us —cross the sea. The former are killed in thousands by the telegraph wires; the latter are overcome by weather and fall exhausted in the sea or dash themselves to death against the brilliantly-lighted windows of the lightho'.wes.

At times our coasts are strewn with the dead bodies of these ill-fated travellers, and any lighthouse-keeper will tell you that during the seasons of migration and in stormy weather hundreds of birds meet their end nightly in the way described. Frost and snow account for innumerable deaths among birds of the less hardy kinds, and in severe weather, as for instance early in the present year, the downs and fields are strewn with the lifeless bodies of redwings, fieldfares/ thrushes, and so on. In prolonged frost even rooks and woodpigeons may be picked up by scores in a dead or dying condition. Another very fruitful cause of disaster among migratory birds is the fact that on the Continent any and every species is trapped and shot on migration in a. most ruthless manner. —Beasts of Prey.— As for the birds that actually meet their end in a natural manner, it is certain that when disease or old age overtakes them they seek out the most secluded spots they can field in field or coppice, where few people go.

But even if one searched for them, very few dead birds would-be found. Beasts of prey—foxes, cats, stoats, weasels, rats, mice, and hedgehogs—are for ever on the lookout for food, and no dead bird is likely to remain lying on the ground for more than a night or so before some creature finds it and devours it.

Any gamekeeper will tell you that, unless on the very next day after a "#hoot" has taken place wounded or dead game is searched for, not a vestige of it will be seen afterwards.

The only explanation is that it is devoured by vermin of one kind or another, 'and if this is what happens to large birds like pheasants and partridges, how much more easy is it for the dead bodies of small birds to disappear.—London Evening News. The Weight of Big Animals. "What does a lion wei&rh?" Ask that question of any acquaintance, and see what he will say. Those who best know the look of the king of beasts, and how small his lithe body really is, will probably come furthest from the truth. About 3001 b to 3501 bis the usual estimate. But this i 9 below the mark. A *ull-grown lion will tip the scales at no less than 5001 b. Five hundred and forty pounds is the record for an x\frioan lion. His bone is solid and heavy as ivory.

The tiger runs the lion very close. A j Bengal tiger killed two year's ago by aq I English officer scaled 5201 b. A tig*r of ' this size has, however, considerably greater muscular strength than the biggest lion. Few people know that a ■grizzly bear can ' give points to any other carnivorous animal ia point of strength, A grizzly bear weigh-

iitg- just four hundredweight has been watched carrying a heifer of .more than, two-thirds its own weight for two miles un the. most steep and rugged mountain, side, and this without pausing one instant for rest. The grizzly bear is the largest and most powerful of all the bear tribe, but his cousin', the cinnamon bear, runs him very close: and the hi,-*, white polar bear, though not really so dangerous a customer, is capable of performing the most extraordinary feats of strength.

Pet Baboon Saved the Baby. The "coat of arms" of the Fitzgerald) family of Ireland is the figure of a baboon, carrying a baby, and. underneath the Latin" motto, "Nom immemor bsneficii." The story connected with this strange device is intereering. Long ago one of the family was away .tt the wars, and had left his household in charge of one or two old retainers, and the women servants. Suddenly there came an alarm of the erremy, and all fled, forgetful of the little baby, the heir of the house. A pet baboon noticed the omission, ran to the cradle, caught up the child, and ran with him to the top of the abbey steeple, holding him out for the people to see. The servants were all in terror, but the baboorr carried the child safely to the ground. When the child's father returned, he found that he owed! a debt of gratitude to the dumb beast that had saved the heir of his house; and he was not ashamed to set the monkey in the centre of his knightly shield, and place beneath the motto, "Not unmindful of his kindness."