TONGUE OF THE WOODPECKER.

thorn, and, moreover, this tip is toothed on both sides, like the beard of an arrow, or the barb of a hook. Its use will at once be seen. The bird, having bared the retreats of the insects, darts forth its long tongue, transfixes them with its spear, and draws its prey within its mouth. At every point of this process we behold

exquisite adaptation. That the beak may be sufficiently sensible, a nerve perforates the bone by innumerable small canals, so that the horny covering may feel in the crevices of the wood and under the bark; and thus the tongue receives its direction, after being darted.

TOUCANS.

forth with great celerity. To prevent the necessity of the bird sticking each insect with its arrow, a viscid secretion bedews the tongue, which is poured out from a very large gland. The golden-winged woodpecker is abundant throughout the whole of the United States of America, where it is celebrated for its liveliness and activity.

The ivory-billed woodpecker prefers the tops of the tallest trees, whence it seldom descends to the ground. So great is its strength, that it has been seen to detach pieces of bark seven or eight inches in length, with a single blow of its bill. Beginning at the top branch, it has torn off the bark to an extent of twenty or thirty feet in the course of a few hours, and then looked out for the precise spot where the grubs were concealed, immediately renewing its blows with great vigour, and giving forth its loud notes as if highly delighted.

The tongue of the toucan is composed of a long, firm, narrow cartilage, fringed along each side with a continued barb of fine slender processes. These are directed forwards, and become longer towards the tip. The tongue, from its structure and inflexibility, cannot be used to turn the food, or guide it into the gullet; and hence, when the bird seizes any morsel

PARROTS.

it is thrown with a jerk into the widely-opened throat, and then swallowed.

Tongue of a Toucan.

The powers of speech with which some birds are gifted are truly surprising. The writer heard, a few years ago, a canary, able distinctly to articulate several words, which it was accustomed to introduce in the midst of its very animated, varied, and melodious song, Parrots of both sexes, it is well known, readily learn to pronounce words. Some of these make extraordinary attainments; among which that of Colonel O'Kelly's has often been described; and another appears to equal it in intelligence and power of imitation. Her laugh is said, by Mr. Jesse's informant, to be quite extraordinary, and it is impossible to help joining in it oneself, more especially when, in the midst of it, she cries out, "Don't make me laugh so; I shall die, I shall die."

PARROTS.

Her crying and sobbing are curious; and if any one says, "Poor Poll, what is the matter?" she replies, "So bad, so bad; got such a cold;" and, after crying for some time, will gradually cease, and, making a noise like drawing a long breath, says, "Better now," and begins to laugh. What a resemblance is here to the marked insincerity of many rational beings!

"The first time," says the writer, "I ever heard her speak, was one day when I was talking to the maid, at the bottom of the stairs, and heard what I then considered to be a child's voice call out " Payne," (the maid's name,) "I am not well; I am not well;" and on my saying, "What is the matter with that child?" she replied, "It is only the parrot; she always does so when I leave her alone, to make me come back;" and so it proved, for on her going into the room the parrot stopped, and then began laughing, quite in a jeering way.

"It is singular enough that whenever she is affronted in any way, she begins to cry; and when pleased, to laugh. If any one happens to cough or sneeze, she says, "What a bad cold!" One day, when the children were playing with her, the maid came into the room, and on their repeating to her several things that the parrot had said, Poll looked up and added, quite