Nor does it disturb our argument to confess, to the teat of its dam; that birds build their nests, that certain species of animals are in motion during the night, and at rest in the day. With respect even to them, it is still true, that there is a change of condition in the animal, and an external change corresponding with it. There is still the relation, though inverted. The fact is, that the repose of other animals sets these at liberty, and invites them to their food or their sport.

and brood with so much patience upon their eggs; that insects which do not sit upon their eggs, deposit them in those particular situations, in which the young, when hatched, find their appropriate food; that it is instinct which carries the salmon, and some other fish, out of the sea into rivers, for the purpose of shedding their spawn in fresh

water.

If the relation of sleep to night, and in some instances, its converse, be real, we cannot reflect without amazement upon the extent to which it carries us. Day and night are things close to us; the change applies immediately to our sensations; of all the phenomena of nature, it is the most ob-related to the production and preservation of their vious and the most familiar to our experience: but, in its cause, it belongs to the great motions which are passing in the heavens. Whilst the earth glides round her axle, she ministers to the alternate necessities of the animals dwelling upon her surface, at the same time that she obeys the influence of those attractions which regulate the order of many thousand worlds. The relation, therefore, of sleep to night, is the relation of the inhabitants of the earth to the rotation of their globe; probably it is more; it is a relation to the system, of which that globe is a part; and, still farther, to the congregation of systems, of which theirs is only one. If this account be true, it connects the meanest individual with the universe itself; a chicken roosting upon its perch, with the spheres revolving in the firmament.

VIII. But if any one object to our representation, that the succession of day and night, or the rotation of the earth upon which it depends, is not resolvable into central attraction, we will refer him to that which certainly is, to the change of the seasons. Now the constitution of animals susceptible of torpor, bears a relation to winter, similar to that which sleep bears to night. Against not only the cold, but the want of food, which the approach of winter induces, the Preserver of the world has provided in many animals by migration, in many others by torpor. As one example out of a thousand; the bat, if it did not sleep through the winter, must have starved, as the moths and flying insects upon which it feeds disappear. But the transition from summer to winter carries us into the very midst of physical astronomy; that is to say, into the midst of those laws which govern the solar system at least, and probably all the heavenly bodies.

We may select out of this catalogue the incubation of eggs. I entertain no doubt, but that a couple of sparrows hatched in an oven, and kept separate from the rest of their species, would proceed as other sparrows do, in every office which brood. Assuming this fact, the thing is inexplicable upon any other hypothesis than that of an instinct, impressed upon the constitution of the animal. For, first, what should induce the female bird to prepare a nest before she lays her eggs? It is in vain to suppose her to be possessed of the faculty of reasoning: for, no reasoning will reach the case. The fulness or distension which she might feel in a particular part of her body, from the growth and solidity of the egg within her, could not possibly inform her, that she was about to produce something, which, when produced, was to be preserved and taken care of. Prior to experience, there was nothing to lead to this inference, or to this suspicion. The analogy was all against it: for in every other instance, what issued from the body was cast out and rejected.

But, secondly, let us suppose the egg to be produced into day; how should birds know that their eggs contain their young? There is nothing, either in the aspect or in the internal composition of an egg, which could lead even the most daring imagination to conjecture, that it was hereafter to turn out from under its shell, a living, perfect bird. The form of the egg bears not the rudiments of a resemblance to that of the bird. Inspecting its contents, we find still less reason, if possible, to look for the result which actually takes place. If we should go so far, as, from the appearance of order and distinction in the disposition of the liquid substances which we noticed in the egg, to guess that it might be designed for the abode and nutriment of an animal, (which would be a very bold hypothesis,) we should expect a tadpole dabbling in the slime, much rather than a dry, winged, feathered creature; a compound of parts and properties impossible to be used in a state of confinement in the egg, and bearing no conceivable relation, either in quality or material, to any thing observed in it. From the white of an egg, would any one look for the feather of a goldfinch? or expect from a simple uniform mucilage, the most complicated of all machines; the most diversified of all collections of substances? Nor would the THE order may not be very obvious, by which process of incubation, for some time at least, lead I place instincts next to relation. But I consider us to suspect the event. Who that saw red streaks, them as a species of relations. They contribute, shooting in the fine membrane which divides the along with the animal organization, to a joint ef-white from the yolk, would suppose that these fect, in which view they are related to that organization. In many cases, they refer from one animal to another animal; and, when this is the case, become strictly relations in a second point of view. An INSTINCT is a propensity prior to experience, and independent of instruction. We contend, that it is by instinct that the sexes of animals seek each other; that animals cherish their offspring; that the young quadruped is directed

CHAPTER XVIII.

Instincts.

were about to become bones and limbs? Who, that espied two discoloured points first making their appearance in the cicatrix, would have had the courage to predict, that these points were to grow into the heart and head of a bird? It is dif ficult to strip the mind of its experience. It is difficult to resuscitate surprise, when familiarity has once laid the sentiment asleep. But could we forget all we know, and which our sparrows

never knew, about oviparous generation; could we divest ourselves of every information, but what we derived from reasoning upon the appearances or quality discovered in the objects presented to us; I am convinced that Harlequin coming out of an egg upon the stage, is not more astonishing to a child, than the hatching of a chicken both would be, and ought to be, to a philosopher.

But admit the sparrow by some means to know, that within that egg was concealed the principle of a future bird: from what chymist was she to learn, that warmth was necessary to bring it to maturity, or that the degree of warmth, imparted by the temperature of her own body, was the degree required?

“the preparation of the nest before the laying of the egg." This she could not gain from observation in her infancy.

It is remarkable also, that the hen sits upon eggs which she has laid without any communica tion with the male; and which are therefore ne cessarily unfruitful. That secret she is not let into. Yet if incubation had been a subject of instruction or of tradition, it should seem that this distinction would have formed part of the lesson: whereas the instinct of nature is calculated for a state of nature: the exception here alluded to, taking place chiefly, if not solely, amongst domes ticated fowls, in which nature is forced out of her

course.

To suppose, therefore, that the female bird acts There is another case of oviparous economy, in this process from a sagacity and reason of her which is still less likely to be the effect of educa own, is to suppose her to arrive at conclusions tion than it is even in birds, namely that of moths which there are no premises to justify. If our and butterflies, which deposit their eggs in the sparrow, sitting upon her eggs, expect young precise substance, that of a cabbage for example, sparrows to come out of them, she forms, I will from which, not the butterfly herself, but the caterventure to say, a wild and extravagant expecta- pillar which is to issue from her egg, draws its tion, in opposition to present appearances, and to appropriate food. The butterfly cannot taste the probability. She must have penetrated into the cabbage. Cabbage is no food for her: yet in the order of nature, farther than any faculties of ours cabbage, not by chance, but studiously and elecwill carry us: and it hath been well observed, that tively, she lays her eggs. There are, amongst this deep sagacity, if it be sagacity, subsists in many other kinds, the willow-caterpillar and the conjunction with great stupidity, even in relation cabbage-caterpillar: but we never find upon a wilto the same subject. “A chymical operation," | low the caterpillar which eats the cabbage; nor says Addison, "could not be followed with greater art or diligence, than is seen in hatching a chicken: yet is the process carried on without the least glimmering of thought or common sense. The hen will mistake a piece of chalk for an egg; is insensible of the increase or diminution of their number; does not distinguish between her own and those of another species; is frightened when her supposititious breed of ducklings take the water."

But it will be said, that what reason could not do for the bird, observation, or instruction, or tradition, might. Now if it be true, that a couple of sparrows, brought up from the first in a state of separation from all other birds, would build their nest, and brood upon their eggs, then there is an end to this solution. What can be the traditionary knowledge of a chicken hatched in an oven ?

the converse. This choice, as appears to me, cannot in the butterfly proceed from instruction. She had no teacher in her caterpillar state. She never knew her parent. I do not see, therefore, how knowledge acquired by experience, if it ever were such, could be transmitted from one generation to another. There is no opportunity either for instruction or imitation. The parent race is gone, before the new brood is hatched. And if it be original reasoning in the butterfly, it is profound reasoning indeed. She must remember her caterpillar state, its tastes and habits: of which memory she shows no signs whatever. She must conclude from analogy (for here her recollection cannot serve her,) that the little round body which drops from her abdomen, will at a future period produce a living creature, not like herself, but like the caterpillar which she remembers herself once to have been. Under the influence of these reflections, she goes about to make provision for an order of things, which she concludes will, some time or other, take place. And it is to be observed, that not a few out of many, but that all butterflies argue thus; all draw this conclusion; all act upon it.

Of young birds taken in their nests, a few species breed, when kept in cages; and they which do so, build their nests nearly in the same manner as in the wild state, and sit upon their eggs. This is sufficient to prove an instinct, without having recourse to experiments upon birds hatched by artificial heat, and deprived, from their birth, of all communication with their species: for we can But suppose the address, and the selection, and hardly bring ourselves to believe, that the parent the plan, which we perceive in the preparations bird informed her unfledged pupil of the history which many irrational animals make for their of her gestation, her timely preparation of a nest, young, to be traced to some probable origin; still her exclusion of the eggs, her long incubation, and there is left to be accounted for, that which is the of the joyful eruption at last of her expected off-source and foundation of these phenomena, that spring; all which the bird in the cage must have learnt in her infancy, if we resolve her conduct into institution.

which sets the whole at work, the στοργής the parental affection, which I contend to be inexplica ble upon any other hypothesis than that of instinct.

Unless we will rather suppose, that she remembers her own escape from the egg; had attentively For we shall hardly, I imagine, in brutes, refer cbserved the conformation of the nest in which their conduct towards their offspring to a sense of she was nurtured; and had treasured up her re- duty, or of decency, a care of reputation, a commarks for future imitation: which is not only ex-pliance with public manners, with public laws, or tremely improbable, (for who, that sees a brood of callow birds in their nest, can believe that they are taking a plan of their habitation?) but leaves unaccounted for, one principal part of the difficulty,

with rules of life built upon a long experience of their utility. And all attempts to account for the parental affection from association, I think, fail. With what is it associated? Most immediately

with the throes of parturition, that is, with pain | flock.* 1 believe the same thing is true of all greand terror and disease. The more remote, but garious quadrupeds. not less strong association, that which depends In this part of the case, the variety of resources, upon analogy, is all against it. Every thing else expedients, and materials, which animals of the which proceeds from the body, is cast away, and same species are said to have recourse to, under rejected. In birds, is it the egg which the hen different circumstances, and when differently sup loves? or is it the expectation which she cherishes plied, makes nothing against the doctrine of inof a future progeny, that keeps her upon her nest? stincts. The thing which we want to account What cause has she to expect delight from her for, is the propensity. The propensity being there, progeny? Can any rational answer be given to it is probable enough that it may put the animal the question, why, prior to experience, the brood-upon different actions, according to different exiing hen should look for pleasure from her chick-gencies. And this adaptation of resources may ens? It does not, I think, appear, that the cuckoo ever knows her young: yet, in her way, she is as careful in making provision for them, as any other bird. She does not leave her egg in every hole.

look like the effect of art and consideration, rather than of instinct: but still the propensity is instinctive. For instance, suppose what is related of the woodpecker to be true, that in Europe she deposits her eggs in cavities, which she scoops out in the trunks of soft or decayed trees, and in which cavities the eggs lie concealed from the eye, and in some sort safe from the hand of man: but that in the forests of Guinea and the Brazils, which man seldom frequents, the same bird hangs her nest to the twigs of tall trees; thereby placing them out of the reach of monkeys and snakes; i. e. that in each situation she prepares against the danger which she has most occasion to apprehend: suppose, I say, this to be true, and to be alleged, on the part of the bird that builds these nests, as evidence of a reasoning and distinguish

The salmon suffers no surmountable obstacle to oppose her progress up the stream of fresh rivers. And what does she do there? She sheds a spawn, which she immediately quits, in order to return to the sea and this issue of her body, she never afterward recognises in any shape whatever. Where shall we find a motive for her efforts and her perseverance? Shall we seek it in argumentation, or in instinct? The violet crab of Jamaica performs a fatiguing march of some months' continuance, from the mountains to the sea side. When she reaches the coast, she casts her spawn into the open sea; and sets out upon her returning precaution; still the question returns, whence home. the propensity to build at all?

Nor does parental affection accompany generation by any universal law of animal organization, if such a thing were intelligible. Some animals cherish their progeny with the most ardent fondness, and the most assiduous attention; others entirely neglect them: and this distinction always meets the constitution of the young animal, with respect to its wants and capacities. In many, the parental care extends to the young animal; in others, as in all oviparous fish, it is confined to the egg, and even, as to that, to the disposal of it in its proper element. Also, as there is generation without parental affection, so is there parental instinct, or what exactly resembles it, without generation. In the bee tribe, the grub is nurtured neither by the father nor the mother, but by the neutral bee. Probably the case is the same with

Moths and butterflies, as hath already been observed, seek out for their eggs those precise situations and substances in which the offspring caterpillar will find its appropriate food. That dear caterpillar, the parent butterfly must never see. There are no experiments to prove that she would retain any knowledge of it, if she did. How shall we account for her conduct? I do not mean for her art and judgment in selecting and securing a maintenance for her young, but for the impulse upon which she acts. What should induce her to exert any art, or judgment, or choice, about the matter? The undisclosed grub, the animal which she is destined not to know, can hardly be the object of a particular affection, if we deny the influence of instinct. There is nothing, therefore, left to her, but that of which her nature seems incapable, an abstract anxiety for the general preservants. ation of the species; a kind of patriotism; a solicitude lest the butterfly race should cease from the creation.

Lastly; the principle of association will not explain the discontinuance of the affection when the young animal is grown up. Association, operating in its usual way, would rather produce a contrary effect. The object would become more necessary, by habits of society: whereas birds and beasts, after a certain time, banish their offspring; disown their acquaintance; seem to have even no knowledge of the objects which so lately engrossed the attention of their minds, and occupied the industry and labour of their bodies. This change, in different animals, takes place at different distances of time from the birth: but the time always corresponds with the ability of the young animal to maintain itself; never anticipates it. In the sparrow tribe, when it is perceived that the young brood can fly, and shift for themselves, then the parents forsake them for ever; and, though they continue to live together, pay them no more attention than they do to other birds in the same

I am not ignorant of the theory which resolves instinct into sensation; which asserts, that what appears to have a view and relation to the future, is the result only of the present disposition of the animal's body, and of pleasure or pain experienced at the time. Thus the incubation of eggs is accounted for by the pleasure which the bird is sup posed to receive from the pressure of the smooth convex surface of the shells against the abdomen, or by the relief which the mild temperature of the egg may afford to the heat of the lower part of the body, which is observed at this time to be increased beyond its usual state. This present gratification is the only motive with the hen for sitting upon her nest; the hatching of the chickens is, with respect to her, an accidental conse quence. The affection of viviparous animals for their young is, in like manner, solved by the re lief, and perhaps the pleasure, which they receive from giving suck. The young animal's seeking, in so many instances, the teat of its dam, is ex

*Goldsmith's Nat. His. vol. iv. p. 244.

plained from its sense of smell, which is attracted | by the odour of milk. The salmon's urging its way up the stream of fresh water rivers, is attributed to some gratification or refreshment, which, in this particular state of the fish's body, she receives from the change of element. Now of this theory, it may be said,

sparrow world, could have produced. But how do these consequences ensue? The sensations, and the constitution upon which they depend, are as manifestly directed to the purpose which we see fulfilled by them; and the train of intermediate effects, as manifestly laid and planned with a view to that purpose: that is to say, design is as completely evinced by the phenomena, as it would be, even if we suppose the operations to begin, or to be carried on, from what some will allow to be alone properly called instincts, that is, from desires directed to a future end, and having no accomplishment or gratification distinct from the attainment of that end.

In a word; I should say to the patrons of this opinion, Be it so: be it, that those actions of animals which we refer to instinct, are not gone about with any view to their consequences, but that they are attended in the animal with a pre

First, that of the cases which require solution, there are few to which it can be applied with tolerable probability; that there are none to which it can be applied without strong objections, furnished by the circumstances of the case. The attention of the cow to its calf, and of the ewe to its lamb, appear to be prior to their sucking. The attraction of the calf or lamb to the teat of the dam, is not explained by simply referring it to the sense of smell. What made the scent of milk so agreeable to the lamb, that it should follow it up with its nose, or seek with its mouth the place from which it proceeded? No observation, no ex-sent gratification, and are pursued for the sake of perience, no argument, could teach the new dropped animal, that the substance from which the scent issued was the material of its food. It had never tasted milk before its birth. None of the animals which are not designed for that nourishment, ever offer to suck, or to seek out any such food. What is the conclusion, but that the suit. gescent parts of animals are fitted for their use, and the knowledge of that use put into them?

that gratification alone; what does all this prove, but that the prospection, which must be somewhere, is not in the animal, but in the Creator?

In treating of the parental affection in brutes, our business lies rather with the origin of the principle, than with the effects and expressions of

Writers recount these with pleasure and admiration. The conduct of many kinds of animals towards their young, has escaped no observer, no historian of nature. "How will they caress them," says Derham, "with their affectionate notes; lull and quiet them with their tender parental voice; put food into their mouths; cherish and keep them warm; teach them to pick, and eat, and gather food for themselves; and, in a word, perform the part of so many nurses, deputed by the Sovereign Lord and Preserver of the world, to help such young and shiftless creatures!" Neither ought it, under this head, to be forgotten, how much the instinct costs the animal which feels it; how much a bird, for example, gives up, by sitting upon her nest; how repugnant it is to her organization, her habits, and her pleasures. An animal, formed for liberty, submits to confinement, in the very season when every thing invites her abroad: what is more; an animal delighting in motion, made for motion, all whose motions are so easy and so free, hardly a moment, at other times, at rest, is, for many hours of many days together, fixed to her nest, as close as if her limbs were tied down by pins and wires. For my part, I never see a bird in that situation, but I recognise an invisible hand, detaining the contented prisoner from her fields and groves, for the purpose, as the event proves, the most worthy of the sacrifice, the most important, the most beneficial.

We assert, secondly, that, even as to the cases in which the hypothesis has the fairest claim to consideration, it does not at all lessen the force of the argument for intention and design. The doctrine of instinct is that of appetencies, superadded to the constitution of an animal, for the effectuating of a purpose beneficial to the species. The above stated solution would derive these appetencies from organization; but then this organization is not less specifically, not less precisely, and, therefore, not less evidently, adapted to the same ends, than the appetencies themselves would be upon the old hypothesis. In this way of considering the subject, sensation supplies the place of foresight: but this is the effect of contrivance on the part of the Creator. Let it be allowed, for example, that the hen is induced to brood upon her eggs by the enjoyment or relief, which, in the heated state of her abdomen, she experiences from the pressure of round smooth surfaces, or from the application of a temperate warmth: How comes this extraordinary heat or itching, or call it what you will, which you suppose to be the cause of the bird's inclination, to be felt, just at the time when the inclination itself is wanted; when it tallies so exactly with the internal constitution of the egg, and with the help which that constitution requires in order to bring it to maturity? In my opinion, this solution, if it be accepted as to the fact, ought to increase, rather than otherwise, our admiration of the contrivance. A gardener lighting up his stoves, just when he wants to force his One observation more, and I will dismiss the fruit, and when his trees require the heat, gives subject. The pairing of birds, and the nonnot a more certain evidence of design. So again; pairing of beasts, forms a distinction between the when a male and female sparrow come together, two classes, which shows, that the conjugal inthey do not meet to confer upon the expediency stinct is modified with a reference to utility of perpetuating their species. As an abstract founded on the condition of the offspring. In proposition, they care not the value of a barley-quadrupeds, the young animal draws its nutricorn, whether the species be perpetuated, or not: they follow their sensations; and all those conse•quences ensue, which the wisest counsels could have dictated, which the most solicitous care of futurity, which the most anxious concern for the

But the loss of liberty is not the whole of what the procreant bird suffers. Harvey tells us, that he has often found the female wasted to skin and bone by sitting upon her eggs.

ment from the body of the dam. The male parent neither does nor can contribute any part to its sustentation. In the winged race, the young bird is supplied by an importation of food, to procure and bring home which in a sufficient quan

tity for the demand of a numerous brood, requires the industry of both parents. In this difference, we see a reason for the vagrant instinct of the quadruped, and for the faithful love of the feathered mate.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of Insects.

We are not writing a system of natural history; therefore we have not attended to the classes, into which the subjects of that science are distributed. What we had to observe concerning different species of animals, fell easily, for the most part, within the divisions which the course of our argument led us to adopt. There remain, how ever, some remarks upon the insect tribe, which could not properly be introduced under any of these heads; and which therefore we have collected into a chapter by themselves.

them; or to expand again their folds, when wanted for action.

In some insects, the elytra cover the whole body; in others, half; in others, only a small part of it; but in all, they completely hide and cover the true wings. Also,

Many or most of the beetle species lodge in holes in the earth, environed by hard, rough substances, and have frequently to squeeze their way through narrow passages; in which situation, wings so tender, and so large, could scarcely have escaped injury, without both a firm covering to defend them, and the capacity of collecting them selves up under its protection.

II. Another contrivance, equally mechanical, and equally clear, is the awl, or borer, fixed at the tails of various species of flies; and with which they pierce, in some cases, plants; in others, wood; in others, the skin and flesh of animals in others, the coat of the chrysalis of insects of a different species from their own; and in others, even lime, mortar, and stone. Í need not add, that having pierced the substance, they deposit their eggs in the hole. The descriptions which naturalists give of this organ, are such as the following: It is a sharp-pointed instrument, which, in its inactive state, lies concealed in the extremi

out at pleasure, for the purpose of making a puneture in the leaves, stem, or bark, of the particular plant which is suited to the nourishment of its young. In a sheath, which divides and opens whenever the organ is used, there is enclosed a compact, solid, dendated stem, along which runs a gutter or groove, by which groove, after the penetration is effected, the egg, assisted, in some cases by a peristaltic motion, passes to its destined lodgement. In the cestrum or gad-fly, the wimble draws out like the pieces of a spy-glass; the last piece is armed with three hooks, and is able to bore through the hide of an ox. Can any thing more be necessary to display the mechanism, than to relate the fact?

The structure, and the use of the parts, of insects, are less understood than that of quadrupeds and birds, not only by reason of their minuteness, or the minuteness of their parts (for that minuteness we can, in some measure, follow with glasses,) but also by reason of the remote-ty of the abdomen, and which the animal draws ness of their manners and modes of life from those of larger animals. For instance: insects, under all their varieties of form, are endowed with antenna, which is the name given to those long feelers that rise from each side of the head; but to what common use or want of the insect kind, a provision so universal is subservient, has not yet been ascertained, and it has not been ascertained, because it admits not of a clear, or very probable, comparison, with any organs which we possess ourselves, or with the organs of animals which resemble ourselves in their functions and faculties, or with which we are better acquainted, than we are with insects. We want a ground of analogy. This difficulty stands in our way as to some particulars in the insect III. The stings of insects, though for a diffeconstitution, which we might wish to be acquaint-rent purpose, are, in their structure, not unlike ed with. Nevertheless, there are many contri- the piercer. The sharpness to which the point in vances in the bodies of insects, neither dubious in all of them is wrought; the temper and firmness their use, nor obscure in their structure, and most of the substance of which it is composed; the properly mechanical. These form parts of our strength of the muscles by which it is darted out, argument. compared with the smallness and weakness of the insect, and with the soft and friable texture of the rest of the body, are properties of the sting to be noticed, and not a little to be admired. The sting of a bee will pierce through a goat-skin glove. It penetrates the human flesh more readily than the finest point of a needle. The action of the sting affords an example of the union of chymistry and mechanism, such as, if it be not a proof of contrivance, nothing is. First, as to the chymistry; how highly concentrated must be the venom, which, in so small a quantity, can produce such powerful effects! And in the bee we may observe, that this venom is made from honey, the only food of the insect, but the last material from which I should have expected that an exalted poison could, by any process or digestion whatsoever, have been prepared. In the next place, with respect to the mechanism, the sting is not a simple, but a compound instrument. The visible sting, though drawn to a point exquisitely sharp, is in strictness only a sheath; for, near to the extremity, may be perceived by the microscope

1. The elytra, or scaly wings of the genus of scarabæus or beetle, furnish an example of this kind. The true wing of the animal is a light, transparent membrane, finer than the finest gauze, and not unlike it. It is also, when expanded, in proportion to the size of the animal, very large. In order to protect this delicate structure, and, perhaps, also to preserve it in a due state of suppleness and humidity, a strong, hard case is given to it, in the shape of the horny wing which we call the elytron. When the animal is at rest, the gauze wings lie folded up under this impenetrable shield. When the beetle prepares for flying, he raises the integument, and spreads out his thin membrane to the air. And it cannot be observed without admiration what a tissue of cordage, i. e. of muscular tendons, must run in various and complicated, but determinate directions, along this fine surface, in order to enable the animal, either to gather it up into a certain precise form, whenever it desires to place its wings under the shelter which nature hath given to