Popular Adventure Tales

  CHAPTER XLI.

  THE WEAVER-BIRDS.

  Now that the beasts of prey had been destroyed, or driven from about thecamp, there was no longer any danger in that quarter, and the childrencould be left by themselves. Totty of course always stayed with them;while the four hunters went forth upon the chase of the elephant--eachmounted upon his quagga.

  They had done so many a time, and as no harm had happened to thechildren in their absence, such a course became habitual with them. Janand Trueey were cautioned not to stray far from the nwana, and always toclimb to the tree, should they perceive any animal that might bedangerous. Before the destruction of the hyenas and lions, they had beenused to remain altogether in the tree, while the hunters were absent.But this had been quite an imprisonment to them; and now that the dangerwas not considered much, they were allowed to come down and play uponthe grassy plain, or wander along the shore of the little lake.

  On one occasion when the hunters were abroad, Trueey had strayed down tothe edge of the water. She was alone, if we except the company of thegazelle, which followed at her heels wherever she went. This prettycreature had grown to full size, and had turned out a great beauty, withlarge round eyes that had a lovely melting expression, like the eyes ofTrueey herself.

  Well, as I have said, Trueey was alone. Jan was busy near the bottom ofthe tree, working a new rod into his bird-cage, and Totty was out uponthe plain herding "old Graaf"--so Trueey and the pet springbok wentstrolling along by themselves.

  Now Trueey had not gone down to the water without an object. She had one.She had gone to give her pet a drink, and collect some blue lilies for abouquet. All this she had done, and still continued to walk along theshore.

  On one side of the lake, and that the farthest from the nwana-tree, alow spit of land projected into the water. It had once been but asand-bar, but grass had grown upon it, until a green turf was formed.There was not over a square perch of it altogether, but it was notsquare in shape. On the contrary, it was of oval form, and much narrowernearest the land, where it formed a neck, or isthmus, not more thanthree feet in width. It was, in short, a miniature peninsula, which by avery little work with the spade could have been converted into aminiature island--had that been desired.

  Now there is nothing very remarkable about a little peninsula projectinginto a lake. In nearly every lake such a thing may be seen. But aboutthis one there was something remarkable.

  Upon its extreme end grew a tree of singular form and foliage. It wasnot a large tree, and its branches drooped downwards until their tipsalmost touched the water. The pendulous boughs, and long lanceolatesilvery leaves, rendered it easy to tell what sort of tree it was. Itwas the weeping or Babylonian willow--so called, because it was upontrees of this species that the captive Jews hung their harps when they"sat and wept by the streams of Babel." This beautiful tree casts itswaving shadow over the streams of South Africa, as well as those ofAssyria; and often is the eye of the traveller gladdened by the sight ofits silvery leaves, as he beholds them--sure indications ofwater--shining afar over the parched and thirsty desert. If a Christian,he fails not to remember that highly poetical passage of sacred writing,that speaks of the willow of Babylon.

  Now the one which grew upon the little peninsula had all these points ofinterest for little Trueey--but it had others as well. Upon its branchesthat overhung the water a very singular appearance presented itself.Upon these was suspended--one upon the end of each branch--a number ofodd shaped objects, that hung drooping down until their lower endsnearly rested upon the surface of the water. These objects, as stated,were of a peculiar shape. At the upper ends--where they were attached tothe branches--they were globe-shaped, but the lower part consisted of along cylinder of much smaller diameter, and at the bottom of thiscylinder was the entrance. They bore some resemblance to salad-oilbottles inverted, with their necks considerably lengthened; or theymight be compared to the glass retorts seen in the laboratory of thechemist.

  They were each twelve or fifteen inches in length, and of a greenishcolour--nearly as green as the leaves of the tree itself. Were they itsfruit?

  No. The weeping willow bears no fruit of that size. They were not fruit.They were nests of birds!

  Yes; they were the nests of a colony of harmless finches of the genus_Ploceus_,--better known to you under the appellation of "weaver-birds."

  I am sure you have heard of weaver-birds before this; and you know thatthese creatures are so called on account of the skill which they exhibitin the construction of their nests. They do not build nests, as otherbirds, but actually weave them, in a most ingenious manner.

  You are not to suppose that there is but one species of weaver-bird--onekind alone that forms these curious nests. In Africa--which is theprincipal home of these birds--there are many different kinds, formingdifferent genera, whose hard names I shall not trouble you with. Each ofthese different kinds builds a nest of peculiar shape, and each choosesa material different from the others. Some, as the _Ploceusicterocephalus_, make their nests of a kidney shape, with the entranceupon the sides, and the latter not circular, but like an arched doorway.Others of the genus _Plocepasser_ weave their nests in such a manner,that the thick ends of the stalks stick out all around the outside,giving them the appearance of suspended hedgehogs; while the birds ofanother genus closely allied to the latter, construct their nests ofslender twigs, leaving the ends of these to project in a similar manner.The "social grosbeak" fabricates a republic of nests in one clump, andall under one roof. The entrances are in the under-surface of this mass,which, occupying the whole top of a tree, has the appearance of ahaystack, or a dense piece of thatch.

  All these weaver-birds, though of different genera, bear a considerableresemblance to each other in their habits. They are usually granivorous,though some are insectivorous; and one species, the "red-billed weaverbird" is a parasite of the wild buffaloes.

  It is a mistake to suppose that weaver-birds are only found in Africaand the Old World, as stated in the works of many naturalists. Intropical America, birds of this character are found in many species ofthe genera _Cassicus_ and _Icterus_, who weave pensile nests of asimilar kind upon the trees of the Amazon and Orinoco. But the trueweaver-birds--that is to say, those which are considered the type of theclass,--are those of the genus _Ploceus_; and it was a species of thisgenus that had hung their pendulous habitations upon the weeping willow.They were of the species known as the "pensile weaver-bird."

  There were full twenty of their nests in all, shaped as alreadydescribed, and of green colour--for the tough "Bushman's grass," out ofwhich they had been woven, had not yet lost its verdant hue, nor wouldit for a long time. Being of this colour, they actually looked likesomething that grew upon the tree,--like great pear-shaped fruits. Nodoubt from this source have been derived the tales of ancienttravellers, who represented that in Africa were trees with fruits uponthem, which, upon being broken open, disclosed to view either livingbirds or their eggs! Now the sight of the weaver-birds, and their nests,was nothing new to Trueey. It was some time since the colony hadestablished itself upon the willow-tree, and she and they had grown wellacquainted. She had often visited the birds, had collected seeds, andcarried them down to the tree; and there was not one of the whole colonythat would not have perched upon her wrist or her pretty whiteshoulders, or hopped about over her fair locks, without fear. It wasnothing unusual to her to see the pretty creatures playing about thebranches, or entering the long vertical tunnels that led upward to theirnests--nothing unusual for Trueey to listen for hours to their sweettwittering, or watch their love-gambols around the borders of the vley.

  She was not thinking of them at the moment, but of something else,perhaps of the blue water-lilies--perhaps of the springbok--butcertainly not of them, as she tripped gaily along the edge of the lake.

  Her attention, however, was suddenly attracted to the birds.

  All at once, and without any apparent cause, they commenced screamingand fluttering around the tree, their cr
ies and gestures betokening ahigh state of excitement or alarm.