GOETHE ON BIRDS

translation by Torsten Schwanke


dedicated to Susan


Wednesday, 26 September 1827


Goethe had invited me for a drive this morning to the Hottelstedt Corner, the westernmost height of the Ettersberg, and from there to the hunting lodge of Ettersburg. The day was extremely beautiful, and we drove out to Jacob‘s Gate in good time. Behind Lützendorf, where the road climbs steeply and we could only drive at a walking pace, we had the opportunity to make all kinds of observations. Goethe noticed a lot of birds in the hedges behind the land and asked me if they were larks. You great and dear one, I thought, who has explored the whole of nature like few others, you seem to be a child when it comes to ornithology.


There are buntings and sparrows“, I replied, „and also a few late warblers that come down from the thicket of the Ettersberg into the gardens and fields after waiting for the moult and prepare to leave; but they are not larks. It is not in the lark's nature to perch on bushes. The field or sky lark soars up into the air and descends again to the earth, and in autumn it may go through the air in flocks and drop down again on some stubble field, but it does not go to hedges and bushes. The tree lark, on the other hand, loves the top of tall trees, from where it soars singing into the air and descends again to its tree top. Then there is another lark, which can be found in lonely areas on the midday side of forest glades and has a very soft, flute-like, yet somewhat melancholy song. It does not linger on the Ettersberg, which is too lively and too closely surrounded by people for it; but it does not go into bushes either.“


Hm!“ said Goethe, „you do not seem to be a novice in these matters.“


I have pursued the subject with love from my youth“, I replied, „and have always had my eyes and ears open to it. The whole forest of the Ettersberg has few places that I have not wandered through repeatedly. If I hear a single sound now, I dare to say from which bird it comes. I am also so far advanced that if any bird is brought to me which has lost its plumage in captivity through wrong treatment, I trust myself very soon to restore it perfectly healthy and well feathered.“


That certainly shows“, replied Goethe, „that you have already been through a great deal in these matters. I would advise you to continue your studies in earnest; with your resolute direction it must lead to very good results. But tell me something about the moult. You spoke earlier of late warblers that came down from the thicket of the Ettersberg into the fields after their moult was complete. Is the moult bound to a certain epoch, and do all birds moult at the same time?“


With most birds“, I replied, „it occurs immediately after the breeding season is over, that is, as soon as the young of the last brood are so far along that they can help themselves. But the question is whether the bird still has the necessary space for moulting from the time when the last clutch is ready until the time of its departure. If it has, it moults here and leaves with fresh plumage. If it does not have it, it leaves with its old plumage and moults later in the warm south. For birds do not come to us at the same time in spring, nor do they go away at the same time in autumn. And this is due to the fact that one species does not care so much for cold and rough weather and can bear it more than another. But a bird that arrives here early leaves late, and a bird that arrives here late leaves early.


Even among the warblers, which belong to the same sex, there is a great difference. The rattling warbler or miller can be heard in our country as early as the end of March; a fortnight later comes the black-headed warbler or monk; then, about a week later, the nightingale, and only at the very end of April or beginning of May the grey warbler. All these birds moult in August, and so do the young of their first flock, which is why young monks with black heads are caught at the end of August. But the young of the last flock go away with their first plumage and moult later in southern countries; for which reason young monks can be caught at the beginning of September, namely young males that still have the red head like their mother.“


Is then the grey warbler“, asked Goethe, „the latest bird to arrive with us, or do others come still later?“


The so-called yellow mockingbird and the splendid golden oriole“, I replied, „come only towards Whitsun. After the breeding season is over, around the middle of August, they both leave again and moult with their young in the south. If you have them in a cage, they moult in winter, which is why these birds are very difficult to bring through. They require a lot of warmth. But if you hang them near the stove, they wither away for lack of fertile air; if, on the other hand, you bring them near the window, they wither away in the cold of the long nights.“


It is thought“, said Goethe, „that moulting is a disease, or at least accompanied by physical weakness.“


I would not say that“, I replied. „It is a state of increased productivity, which takes place wonderfully in the open air, without the slightest complaint, and, in the case of reasonably vigorous individuals, perfectly well indoors. I have had warblers that did not stop singing during the whole moult: a sign that they were perfectly well. If, however, a bird is sickly in the room during the moult, it is to be concluded that it has not been properly treated with food or fresh air and water. If, in the course of time, it has become so weak from lack of air and freedom that it lacks the productive power to begin moulting, bring it out into the fertile fresh air and the moult will immediately proceed in the best possible way. In a bird in the wild, on the other hand, it proceeds so gently and so gradually that it hardly notices it.“


But you seemed to hint“, Goethe said, „that the warblers retreat into the thickets of the woods during their moult.“


During this time“, I replied, „they do need some protection. In this case, too, nature acts with such wisdom and moderation that a bird never loses so many feathers at once during moulting that it becomes incapable of flying as well as the attainment of its food requires. But it may happen, for example, that it loses the fourth, fifth and sixth feathers of the left wing and the fourth, fifth and sixth feathers of the right wing all at once, in which case it can still fly quite well, but not so well as to escape the pursuing bird of prey, and especially the very swift and agile tree hawk, and a bushy thicket comes in very handy.“


That can be heard“, Goethe replied. „But does the moulting“, he continued, „proceed evenly and, as it were, symmetrically on both wings?“


As far as my observations go, indeed“, I replied. „And that is very beneficial. For if a bird were to lose, for example, three wing feathers on the left wing and not at the same time the same feathers on the right, the wings would lack all balance and the bird would no longer have proper control over itself and its movement. It would be like a ship whose sails are too heavy on one side and too light on the other.“


I see“, Goethe replied, „one may penetrate nature from whichever side one wishes, one always arrives at some wisdom.“





II


Jena, Monday, October 8, 1827.



A small hawk flew by, which in its flight and shape bore a great resemblance to the cuckoo.


There was a time“, said Goethe, „when the study of natural history was still so far behind that the opinion was generally held that the cuckoo was a cuckoo only in summer, but a bird of prey in winter.“


This opinion“, I replied, „still exists among the people. The good bird is also said to swallow its own parents as soon as it is fully grown. And so it is used as a parable of the most shameful ingratitude. Even at the present moment, I know people who refuse to be talked out of these absurdities and who cling to them as firmly as to any article of the Christian faith.“


As far as I know“, said Goethe, „the cuckoo is classified among the woodpeckers.“


One sometimes does so“, I replied, „probably for the reason that two toes of its weak feet have a backward direction. But I don't want to put him there. He has as little for the woodpeckers' way of life a strong beak, capable of breaking any dead tree bark, as the sharp, very strong tail feathers, which would be suitable to support him in such an operation. Its toes, too, lack the sharp claws necessary for stopping, and I therefore do not consider its small feet to be real climbing feet, but only apparent ones.“


The gentlemen ornithologists“, Goethe said, „are probably glad if they have only accommodated some peculiar bird in a reasonably decent way; whereas nature plays its free game and cares little for the compartments made by limited men.“


Thus the nightingale“, I continued, „is classed with the warblers, while in the energy of its disposition, its movements, and its mode of life, it bears far more resemblance to the thrushes. But I would not count it among the thrushes either. It is a bird that stands between the two, a bird in its own right, just as the cuckoo is a bird in its own right, with as sharply pronounced an individuality as one.“


Everything I have heard about the cuckoo“, said Goethe, „gives me a great interest in this strange bird. It is a highly problematic nature, an obvious mystery; but none the less difficult to solve because it is so obvious. And how many things do we not find ourselves in the same trap! We are in the midst of wonders, and the last and best of things is closed to us. Take bees, for example. We see them flying for honey, for hours, and always in a different direction. Now they fly west for weeks after a field of flowering turnip-seed. Then just as long north to a field of flowering heather. Then again in another direction after the flowering buckwheat. Then somewhere to a field of flowering clover. And finally again in another direction after flowering lime trees. But who told them: now fly there, there is something for you! And then there again, there is something new! And who leads them back to their village and their cell! They go here and there as if on an invisible string, but what it actually is we do not know. The same goes for the lark. It soars singing above a field of stalks, it floats above a sea of stalks which the wind sways to and fro, and where one wave looks like another; it descends again to its young and hits, without missing, the little spot where it has its nest. All these outward things are clear before us as the day, but their inward spiritual bond is closed to us.“


With the cuckoo“, I said, „it is no different. We know of it that it does not breed itself, but lays its egg in the nest of some other bird. We also know that it lays its egg in the nest of the warbler, the yellow wagtail, the monk, in the nest of the brown auklet, in the nest of the robin and in the nest of the wren. This we know. We also know that these are all insect birds and must be, because the cuckoo itself is an insect bird, and the young cuckoo could not be raised by a seed-eating bird. But how can the cuckoo recognise that these are all really insect birds? Since all of these, both in their shape and in their colour, differ so greatly from one another! And they also differ so much in their voice and in their curls! And furthermore, how is it that the cuckoo can entrust its egg and its tender young to nests that are as different as possible in terms of structure and temperature, dryness and humidity? The nest of the warbler is so lightly built of scrawny grass stalks and a few horse hairs that any cold penetrates and any draught blows through, even open from above and without protection; but the young cuckoo thrives excellently in it. The wren's nest, on the other hand, is thickly and firmly built on the outside with moss, stalks and leaves and carefully lined on the inside with all kinds of wool and feathers so that no breeze can penetrate. It is also covered and arched at the top, leaving only a small opening for the very small bird to slip in and out. You would think that in hot June days it would be suffocating heat in such a closed cave. But the young cuckoo thrives in it. And again, how different is the nest of the yellow wagtail! The bird lives by the water, by streams and in all kinds of wet. It builds its nest on damp drifts, in a tuft of rushes. It digs a hole in the damp earth and lines it sparsely with a few blades of grass, so that the young cuckoo is incubated and has to grow up in the damp and cool. And yet, once again, it thrives excellently. But what kind of bird is this for which, in the tenderest infancy, damp and dry, heat and cold, deviations that would be fatal for any other bird, are quite indifferent things. And how does the old cuckoo know that they are, since he himself is so very sensitive to wet and cold in adulthood.“


We are facing a mystery here“, Goethe replied. „But tell me, if you have observed it, how does the cuckoo get its egg into the wren's nest, since it has such a small opening that it cannot get in and sit on it itself?“


He lays it on some dry spot“, I replied, „and brings it in with his beak. I also believe that he does this not only with the wren but also with all the other nests. For even the nests of the other insect birds, though open at the top, are so small, or so closely surrounded by branches, that the large long-tailed cuckoo could not sit on them. This is very much to be thought of. But how it is that the cuckoo lays such an extraordinarily small egg, as small as if it were the egg of a small insect bird, is a new mystery that we admire in silence without being able to solve it. The egg of the cuckoo is only a little larger than that of the warbler, and it must not be any larger if the small insect-birds are to incubate it. This is perfectly good and reasonable. But that nature, in order to be wise in a particular case, should depart from a thoroughgoing great law, according to which, from the humming-bird to the ostrich, there is a decided relation between the size of the egg and the size of the bird, this arbitrary procedure, I say, is quite apt to surprise and astonish us.“


It does, however, astonish us“, replied Goethe, „because our point of view is too small for us to overlook it. If more were open to us, we would probably find even these apparent deviations within the scope of the law. But go on and tell me more. Does no one know how many eggs the cuckoo may lay?“


Whoever wanted to say anything with certainty about that“, I replied, „would be a great fool. The bird is very flighty, it is soon here and soon there, one always finds only one egg of it in a single nest. It certainly lays several; but who knows where they have gone and who can follow it! Suppose, however, it laid five eggs, and all five of these were happily hatched and brought up by loving foster-parents, then again one has to admire that nature may decide to sacrifice at least fifty young of our best song-birds for five young cuckoos.“


In such matters“, Goethe replied, „nature is not exactly scrupulous in other cases either. She has a large budget of life to waste and she occasionally does it without any particular qualms. But how is it that so many young songbirds are lost for a single young cuckoo?“


First“, I replied, „the first brood is lost. For if the eggs of the songbird were also hatched next to the cuckoo's egg, as probably happens, the parents are so pleased with the larger bird that has arisen and have such tenderness for it that they think only of it and feed only it, whereupon their own smaller young perish and disappear from the nest. The young cuckoo is also always eager and needs as much food as the small insect birds can bring. It takes a long time before it reaches its full size and plumage, and before it is able to leave the nest and rise to the top of a tree. But even if it has long since flown out, it still requires constant feeding, so that the whole summer passes over it and the loving foster parents always follow their large child and do not even think of a second brood. This is why so many other young birds are lost to a single young cuckoo.“


That is very convincing“, Goethe replied. „But tell me, is the young cuckoo, as soon as it has flown out, also fed by other birds that have not bred it? It seems to me that I have heard such things.“


It is so“, I replied. „As soon as the young cuckoo has left its low nest and taken up its perch in the top of a tall oak tree, it makes a loud sound which says that it is there. Now all the little birds in the neighbourhood that have heard him come to greet him. The warbler comes, the monk comes, the yellow wagtail flies up, even the wren, whose nature it is to constantly hatch in low hedges and dense bushes, overcomes his nature and rises to the top of the tall oak to meet the beloved arrival. The couple, however, who brought him up, are more faithful with feeding, while the others only fly in occasionally with a good morsel.“


So it seems“, said Goethe, „that there is a great love between the young cuckoo and the little insect-birds.“


The love of the little insect-birds for the young cuckoo“, I replied, „is so great that when one comes close to a nest in which a young cuckoo is being nursed, the little foster-parents do not know how to behave from fright and fear and worry. The monk in particular expresses great despair, so that he almost flutters on the ground as if in convulsions.“


Strange enough“, Goethe replied; „but it can be thought of. But it seems to me something very problematic that, for example, a pair of warblers about to hatch their own eggs allows the old cuckoo to approach their nest and lay its egg inside.“


That is of course very puzzling“, I replied, „but not quite. For the very fact that all small insect birds feed the cuckoo that has fledged, and that therefore even those feed it that have not bred it, creates and maintains a kind of kinship between the two, so that they continually know each other and regard each other as members of a single large family. It may even happen that the same cuckoo that a few warblers hatched and raised the previous year brings them its egg this year.“


That can be heard“, Goethe replied, „however little one understands it. But it always remains a miracle to me that the young cuckoo is also fed by birds that did not breed and rear it.“


Of course it is a miracle“, I replied, „but there must be something analogous. I even suspect a great law in this direction, which runs deep through all of nature.


I had caught a young linnet that was already too big to be fed by humans, but still too young to eat alone. I took a lot of trouble with it for half a day, but as it would not accept anything, I put it in with an old linnet, a good singer, which I had had in a cage for years and days and which hung outside my window. I thought: when the boy sees how the old one eats, he will perhaps also go to the food and imitate him. But it did not do so, but opened its beak towards the old one and moved its wings towards him with pleading sounds, whereupon the old linnet immediately took pity on him and accepted him as a child and fed him as if it were his own.


They also brought me a grey warbler and three young ones, which I put together in a large cage and which the old lady fed. The next day I was brought two young nightingales that had already fledged, which I also put with the warbler and which she also adopted and fed. After a few days I put in another nest with almost fledged young millerows, and another nest with five young flatwinged monks. The warbler took them all in and fed them and looked after them as a faithful mother. She always had a beak full of ants' eggs and was soon in one corner of the spacious cage and soon in the other, and wherever a hungry throat opened, there she was. Yes, even more! One of the young ones of the warbler, who had grown up in the meantime, also began to feed some of the smaller ones, still playing and somewhat childlike, but already with a determined drive to imitate the excellent mother.“


Here we are faced with something divine“, said Goethe, „which astonishes me. If it were true that this feeding of a stranger went through nature as something generally lawful, then many a riddle would be solved, and one could say with conviction: that God has mercy on the orphaned young ravens who call upon him.“


I replied that it does seem to be something generally lawful, for I have observed this helpful feeding and this mercy towards the abandoned even in the wild.


Last summer I caught two young wrens near Tiefurt, which had probably only recently left their nest, for they were sitting in a bush on a branch together with seven brothers and sisters in a row and were being fed by their parents. I took the two young birds in my silk handkerchief and went in the direction of Weimar as far as the shooting house, then right down to the meadow by the Ilm and past the bathing place, and then left again into the small copse. Here, I thought, you have peace and quiet to look after your wrens. But when I opened the cloth, they both slipped away from me and immediately disappeared into the bushes and grass, so that my search for them was in vain. On the third day I happened to come to the same place again, and as I heard the call of a robin, I suspected that there was a nest nearby, which I actually found after looking around for a while. But how great was my astonishment when I found my two young wrens in this nest, next to almost fledged young robins, who had settled down quite comfortably and let themselves be fed by the old robins. I was extremely happy about this most curious found. Since you are so clever, I thought to myself, and have known how to help yourselves so nicely, and since the good robins have also taken care of you so helpfully, I am far from disturbing such hospitable conditions; on the contrary, I wish you the very best of prosperity.“


That is one of the best ornithological stories I have ever heard“, said Goethe. „Hail, you shall live, and your happy observations with it! Whoever hears this and does not believe in God, Moses and the prophets are of no help. This is what I call the omnipresence of God, who has spread and planted a part of his infinite love everywhere, and already indicates in the animal as a bud that which comes to the most beautiful blossom in the noble human being. Continue your studies and your observations! You seem to be particularly fortunate in this and can still arrive at quite inestimable results.“