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AMONG THE
BIRDS IN NORTHERN SHIRES

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AMONG THE BIRDS

IN

NORTHERN SHIRES

BY

CHARLES DIXON

Author of ‘‘ Rural Bird-life” ‘‘The Game Birds and Wild Fowl of the British Islands’
“ British Sea Birds” ‘* Curiosities of Bird-life”
“The Migration of Birds” “The Migration of British Birds” ** Bird-life ina Southern County” &c

WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE AND FORTY OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS
BY CHARLES WHYMPER

BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND DUBLIN
1900

lrglvclel Ine OA we

The present volume must be regarded more as a popular
introduction to the bird-life of our northern shires than
in any way as an exhaustive faunal treatise, although at
the same time we believe almost every indigenous species
has been included. For twenty years we lived surrounded
by these northern birds, so that we may fairly claim to
have served our ornithological apprenticeship amongst
them. With the birds of South Yorkshire and North
Derbyshire we are specially familiar; whilst repeated visits
not only to the Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, and Northumbrian
littoral, but farther afield into Lancashire, and various parts
of the Lowlands and the Highlands of Scotland, have
enabled us to acquire much personal information relating
to the avifauna of many a northern shire.

The difference between the avifaune of the northern and
southern shires is strongly marked in many respects. Their
study makes a record of avine comparisons of the most
intense interest. The important effects produced by lati-
tude and climate upon the bird-life of these widely sepa-
rated areas make material for fascinating investigation, and
have been fully dwelt upon as opportunities were presented.
This variation in avine phenomena is not only far too
often entirely ignored, but is apt to lead the student of

vi Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

bird-lore astray; due allowance has to be made in many
cases for this difference in latitude, and all that it involves.
The present volume, then, to a great extent a study of
ornithological comparisons, will, we trust, be of some service
to the bird lover or the bird student in his task of making
allowances.

Unquestionably these northern shires from an ornitho-
logical point of view are much more interesting than the
southern, and especially the south-western counties. Their
avifauna is richer, and presents far greater variety, notably
during the breeding season; whilst the marvellous pheno-
menon of Migration there unfolds itself each season in a

manner that is never remarked elsewhere.

CHARLES DIXON.

PAIGNTON, S. DEVON.

CuHap.

CONTE N ds:

. BY UPLAND STREAMS

. ON MOORLANDS AND ROUGHS .

. ON MOUNTAIN AND LOCH

. ON HEATHS AND MARSHES .

- IN FOREST AND COPSE.

. IN FARM AND GARDEN

. BY RIVER AND POOL

. ON SEA AND SHORE

. ON CRAG AND SEA-CLIFF .

. MIGRATION IN THE NORTHERN SHIRES

INDEX .

Lee USi RATIONS:

Page
Bird-haunted Handa. .... .'. =. . ... S&rontispiece

MRD PCH ee Me ktiwa teh Wy oytruuisr ves cs ew ee
MhevGray Wartall: Wi satis, 6 Ge ee ops. eo GP ee ZS
MirerGammon Sandpiper “< 2 ic, 4c 2 + 6 & = « 20
sTevISed (GTOUSE”5.4¥r 8) 2. 6) cal Gh Vas ee Ge Gi 8-2 90
INNS INGE 6S GG a oe go Gp oO een obo owe s. 7Ke)
finircelwinG-Ouzel: Wao. sees yen goes Vase ke tee Coy 5S
PERE AVUenIIN Gee ga Mey Geoker) A ereolcsy nl Gass 9 dpa tana 5S
Sibir poe MMO? ase pcos ter ee) es ow aes Se ew aac ot en OF
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BN esINAVEN tease eh toto.) ek nto ersets Mee Lema 177,
rer OLEH l rises eye coc aie kad ost ues wer ke SON
The Red-breasted Merganser . ......... . 96
dihe Black-throated Diver 2.49.1 940 4. acne ses 4)... (96
SRM OUN AE Mya es Wete eee ey cen vet Socio as) st esa Be Osh LOT:
Sie Tones CUMEW Gost ee cet Ma Oe we ee es ms ce wp Fe ee LS.
thes ohort-cared. Owl epee) ae ts eee see 23
lune Black-mweadeduGull: 2. 2932 go% sw s&s. 128
ich GonminOnmZZAnG! asec. Sete rcle an us Bice es yor ene Ge SS
Tier Ait areye Vore(elA Rea E as Re ere ae err armen U7 -
Pier OlAGKAGHOUSEs what) isn ea ts gta ep ot ot Gy eon, s ESO
me Greater spotted, Woodpecker 2 2... 6 es 153
Sea OGicwe capa cce a curs ate ee Ore . sacs. ee: a wen as LOL
SeL DPA DNMO cee a) 50 oe ME ca De he oeh ee ce ee Ss) ay we TOG
CMV Ghatecs wenn CR eee etch co Pa es 174

Lllustvations.

The Yellow Wagtail .

The Kingfisher .

Titmice fom

The Tufted Duck .

The Lesser Tern .

The Ringed Plover
Sheldralkkesig. ) eae) bee ae) ues
The Lesser Black-backed Gull
The Eider Duck

Gulls and Terns

The Razorbill

The Gannets ;

The Fork-tailed Petrel .

The Fulmar . fs
Migrants at a Lighthouse .
The Hooded Crow

The Chiffchaff .

The Wheatear .

Fieldfare and Titmouse .

AMONG THE BIRDS _ IN
NORTHERN SHIRES.

CEeNea Pe Re

BY UPLAND STREAMS.

HERE are few things more interesting to
the lover of bird-life than the comparison of
ornithological phenomena as they are pre-

sented in various localities, separated, it may be, by
but few degrees of latitude. Not only does this
apply to the species themselves—for even in our
own islands the geographical distribution of birds
conforms a good deal to latitude,—but to their migra-
tional movements, their resumption of voice, their
seasons of reproduction, their gatherings and move-
ments generally, and finally to not a few habits that
appear to be confined within narrow territorial limits.
We have already dealt with bird-life in its many as-
pects in southern haunts with a view to the compari-
son of avine phenomena with that of more northern
localities; we now propose in the present volume to
review the most salient ornithological characteristics

12 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

of certain favoured northern shires, especially with
the object of bringing them out in contrast by their
comparative study. The ornithologist with a southern
experience, studying bird-life in a northern county—
say in Yorkshire, for example—will soon find that
the avifauna of the two areas, although it possesses
much in common, is in many respects different.
Birds that he was wont to find common in southern
haunts are rare here; others that were scarce in the
south, and which he was apt to regard even as
rarities, are quite common. Not a few species are
met with that are seldom normally seen in southern
haunts, and opportunities are afforded him of study-
ing the nesting economy of species, the breeding
areas of which are decidedly boreal. Then, again,
the change of latitude involves a change of climate,
especially in winter; slight, perhaps, it may be, com-
paratively speaking, but yet sufficient to influence
the habits and movements of birds in quite a different
way from those prevailing in the milder atmosphere
of southern haunts. Birds that sing all the winter
through in these southern shires are silent here at
that season; others that are sedentary there are of
migratory habits in the wilder and colder north—
in obedience to those climatic influences that act
upon the food supply, and so on. The farther north
he goes the more acute will the contrast in avine
phenomena become; and in species common to the

By Upland Streams. 12

o

two areas—to northern and southern counties re-
spectively—he will find differences of from one to
two months in the ornithological calendar. Lastly,
he will meet with a multitude of interesting forms,
both in summer and in winter, that are normally
strangers to southern localities at one season or the
other, or at both seasons.

We will commence our observations by an in-
vestigation of the bird-life along the upland streams
—not in their lower and quieter reaches, but at some
elevation up the hillsides where the waters hurry and
tumble along over rocky beds and between more
or less pfecipitous banks fringed with alders, moun-
tain-ashes, bracken, and brambles. The southern
counties can boast no such streams; and even in the
wilder south-west of England the becks are wanting
in that grandeur that characterizes most of these tur-
bulent northern waters. For twenty years or more
we lived surrounded by them and within ear of their
noisy clamour; whilst the birds upon their banks
were our constant companions summer and winter
alike. To our mind the ideal upland stream is one
of the most picturesque features in the Peak district.
They may be grander and wilder farther north, but
with experiences of them in the remote Highlands
and the Hebrides in mind, for romantic charm and
wealth of bird-life these Derbyshire and Yorkshire
brooks, in our opinion, remain unequalled. Almost

14 Among the Burds in Northern Shires.

every valley in the Peak can boast a streamlet of
some kind. Some of course are more imposing than
others, drain larger areas of upland, and contain a
much greater volume of water. Some plough their
way across the open moorland, their bed in summer
being dry or nearly so; whilst others purl down
wooded valleys and along well-timbered bottoms,
between the ridges of millstone grit that are such a
prominent feature in this particular kind of country.
In their higher and wilder reaches such rivers as the
Dove, the Wye, and the Derwent—all beloved by
the angler for trout and grayling—may be taken
as very excellent examples of upland streams. The
Rivelin, with its charming branches of Blackbrook
and Wyming brook, and itself a tributary of the now
polluted and ill-used Don, upon which grimy Sheffield
is partly situated, were all favourite streams of ours
rich in ornithological associations. So, too, was
the Sheaf, with once picturesque Meersbrook, espe-
cially in its upper waters between the villages of
Dore and Hathersage.

Were we asked to name the most characteristic
bird of these upland streams we should unhesitatingly
answer, the Dipper. Not that the bird can be re-
garded as plentiful anywhere; and we know not a
few streams where this engaging species has dwindled
seriously in numbers during the past twenty years,
due partly to the senseless persecution of keepers

By Upland Streams. 15

and others, and partly to the much greater number
of people that wander along the banks nowadays
compared with years ago. Be this as it may, the
Dipper is still sparingly dispersed along most of the

The Dipper.

streams suited to its requirements. Its exclusive
habits tend to characterize it as rarer than it actually
is, and its peculiarity of keeping a length of water
reserved for itself and its mate creates an impression
of absolute scarcity which in many cases does not
actually exist. No wonder the old school of natural-
ists were at a loss to assign a place in their classifica-
tions to this curious bird. Brisson included it among

16 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

the Sandpipers and called it Tringa merula aquatica;
but Linnzeus, with more discernment, associated it
with the Passeres in his genus Sturnus, which is now
restricted to the typical Starlings. Modern ornitho-
logists have fared little better, and the poor Dipper,
even in quite recent years, has been tossed about
from one group to another utterly regardless of its
true affinities. In some modern books we find it asso-
ciated with the Thrushes, in others with the Wrens,
but with neither group falling naturally. There may
be some of its special characteristics, as, for instance,
the coat of down that more or less covers the body
below the feathers, due to its peculiar habits and
economy; but, on the other hand, the very peculiar
character of its nest and eggs (which we regard as
of some importance in determining its taxonomic
position) seems to suggest that the small group of
birds of which the Common Dipper is typical, is
not very closely allied to any other existing group,
and fully to warrant the separation of these birds
from other Passeres into a family apart. Small as
this family is, the dozen species of which it is com-
posed are scattered over a very large proportion
of the earth’s surface. Dippers in one form or
another are found over the greater part of Europe,
Asia, and North Africa; they occur on the upland
streams of the Himalayas, and in the mountains

of Formosa. Across the Atlantic they inhabit the
(M618 )

By Upland Streams. 17

hill streams of the Rocky Mountains and _ the
Andes.

Our British Dipper, as probably most readers at
all familiar with the bird may be aware, is one of
the most sedentary of our indigenous species. Both
here and in those parts of continental Europe which
the typical species frequents, as well as the slightly
different northern form from Scandinavia, the birds
keep closely to their native streams summer and
winter alike, only wandering from them in the very
exceptional event of the torrents becoming’ frost-
bound. Such a peculiarity has resulted in the estab-
lishment by variation and isolation of an almost end-
less number of local races or sub-specific forms. To
a slight extent this may be remarked even in our
own islands, birds from various localities exhibiting
differences of coloration, but when we come to
review the Dippers of the entire Palzearctic region
the amount of variation amongst them is much more
pronounced. The scope of the present little volume
forbids a scientific revision of the genus Cinclus; but
a glimpse of the sprightly little brown and white
bird bobbing up and down like a fleck of foam
amidst the whirling waters of a northern trout
stream suggests a passing allusion to these interesting
facts.

The English local names of the Dipper are not

without interest. It is somewhat curious to find
(M618 ) B

18 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

that the local name of Water-crow has been applied
to this bird not only in Cornwall but almost univer-
sally in Scotland. The names Water-ouzel and
Dipper are of very ancient application. That of
“Dipper” was not “apparently invented in 1804”,
as Professor Newton suggests in his Dzctzonary of
Lirds (p. 151), by the author of the letterpress in
Bewick’s Lritish Lirds (presumably Beilby); for
we find it used many years previously (in 1771) by
Tunstall in his Ovrzzthologia Britannica, a work
which was reprinted by the Willughby Society in
1880 under the editorship of Professor Newton
himself! There can be no doubt whatever that
the name had been applied much earlier still. The
derivation of the words Water-crow and Water-
ouzel is not difficult to determine; but that of
“Dipper” is open to considerable doubt. To us it
seems just as reasonable to presume that the bird
received this name from its unique habit of “ dip-
ping” in the stream as from its singular dipping or
bobbing motion when perched on some stone or
rock in the bed of the torrent, as is suggested in
Bewick’s work on British birds. In some parts of
the Highlands the Dipper is known locally as the
Kingfisher.

Although we have had not a little experience of
the Dipper on the streams of a southern county we
are bound to confess that the bird seems somewhat

By Upland Streams. 19

out of place upon them, possibly because we have
been so accustomed to his society amidst wilder
surroundings in much more northern shires. We
picture him best upon the wild trout streams of
Yorkshire and Derbyshire, or as a tenant of the
dancing burns of the Highlands and the Western
Isles. Here he is one of the most characteristic
species of the stream, constantly attached to the
turbulent foam-flecked waters, part and parcel of the
scenery itself. As a musician the Dipper does not
take a very prominent place in the avine chorus, but
his music is in full harmony with its wild surround-
ings, though often overpowered by the noise of the

torrent—a low-pitched jerky and uneven carol, not

very long-continued if uttered at frequent intervals.
Perhaps we might not be strictly accurate in de-
scribing the Dipper as a habitual perennial songster
like the Robin, nevertheless he warbles now and
then during the winter months, and is one of the
first birds to resume regular music in the early
spring. We are assured that the Dipper sings at
intervals during all the rigour of a Scotch winter,
proof of his robustness and hardy temperament. In
Devonshire his winter song might be naturally ex-
pected; for there the Song Thrush and the Sky-
lark are musical enough at that season, although
mute, or nearly so, in northern shires. We have
listened to his wild uneven music on some of the

20 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Yorkshire streams during winter when icicles a
couple of feet in length have draped the rocks, or
when the surrounding country-side has been covered
deep with snow. Unfortunately, almost everywhere

the Dipper somehow has got a bad name—a repu-
tation amongst anglers for destroying the spawn of
sporting fishes. Like the poor Owl, and not a few
other feathered outcasts, he is universally persecuted
for these imaginary misdeeds. But in reality he is
one of the actual preservers of the ova he is accused

of eating, for his food largely consists of larve of

g,
certain insects which in that stage of their existence
are particularly destructive to the spawn. We have
dissected a great many Dippers at one time and
another from many different localities, and have
always been much impressed with the uniform simi-
larity of the contents of their stomachs—a little grit
and the remains of insects and worms. We have,
however, known the Dipper in exceptional cases
to prey upon small fish, but are convinced, by the
experience of a lifetime, that such food is taken so
rarely as scarcely to deserve mention at all. When-
ever we pause to watch the aquatic gambols of this
sprightly bird, we feel less inclined to wonder why
a past generation of naturalists included it amongst
the water-fowl. The way it enters the quiet pools
or the swifter running reaches of the stream, dashing
beneath the surface from some water-encircled stone,

By Upland Streams. 21

and rising again some distance away just to take
breath and then again to disappear, is never without
a certain element of surprise, accustomed as we are
to the habits of this bird. We can recall a northern
stream—situated in the Rivelin valley close to Hol-
low Meadows—specially favourable for watching the
actions of the Dipper. In some parts it was confined
by lofty banks, upon which we could lie concealed
and look right down into the clear water, and here,
when the pair of Dippers that frequented the spot
were on the feed, we might watch their every move-
ment whilst they were under the surface. This
stream is used as a conduit to convey the water from
one large reservoir to another, and was consequently
often in flood. We have often remarked that the
Dippers were exceptionally busy in searching for
food on these occasions, doubtless because insects
and larvze were disturbed by the unusual flow of
water. Such times, however, were not favourable
for observation. We liked best to watch the ways
of these charming birds when the stream flowed
slower, when the water was clearer, and certain
reaches were almost undisturbed by the current.
The Kingfisher, as most readers may know, has but
one method of feeding, by plunging into the water
and returning to the air almost at once. The Dipper,
on the other hand, in his quest for sustenance, is as
much aquatic as a Grebe or a Moorhen. He is quite

22 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

as much at home in the water as in the air or on dry
land. Sometimes he walks deliberately from the
bank or from a sloping moss-covered stone into the
water; at others he takes a short flight over the
stream and drops suddenly down into the pool; whilst
yet again we have often seen him arrest a long-
continued flight—which, by the way, follows every
bend of the brook—and, fluttering for a moment,
poise and disappear beneath the surface at once.
The Dipper only maintains his subaqueous position
by much evident exertion of his wings and legs and
feet. Generally the wings are kept in motion whilst
the bird searches the bed of the stream, but some-
times these may be seen at rest, and the body is kept
beneath the water by the feet clutching the big stones
and the strands of moss and other aquatic plants.
Not only does the bird float buoyantly enough upon
the water, but it swims well, often for many yards at
atime. Dippers are exceedingly attached to certain
reaches of the stream and to favourite nesting sites,
using the latter year after year, often in spite of
much disturbance. In this special valley we always
used to find the nest in one particular spot—wedged
under an overhanging rock on the bank of the
stream. The nest of this species is a very char-
acteristic one, and cannot readily be mistaken for
that of any other British bird. In external appear-
ance it bears some resemblance to that of the Wren,

By Upland Streams. 23

being of the same globular form, but a cursory ex-
amination will soon set any doubt at rest. In a great
many—we might almost say the majority of—cases
the nest is made outwardly of moss (sphagnum al-
ways by preference), amongst which a little dry grass
is interwoven, especially round the entrance hole.
This mossy globe is lined with grass roots and some-
times fine twigs, and then again lined with an enor-
mous quantity of dead leaves all arranged very neatly
layer over layer. There is never any lining of wool
or feathers, and the five or six white eggs are almost
exactly the same size as those of the Song Thrush.
The Dipper is an early breeder even in the northern
shires, commencing to build at the end of March or
early in April, and rearing several broods during the
course of the season. The young birds are most
interesting little creatures. We retain many vivid
remembrances of the actions of broods of Dippers
that we have unexpectedly disturbed. The tiny
creatures, when only able to fly or flutter for a few
yards at most, will take to the water to escape pur-
suit just as readily as the chicks of a Grebe or a
Moorhen, and are equally as alert and active in that
element. We have upon more than one occasion
known the four or five youngsters flutter out of the
nest one after the other, and at once tumble into
the stream below, where all efforts at capture have
usually been unavailing. Not only do the nestlings

24 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

dive and flutter about the water, but they are adepts
at concealing themselves amongst chinks of the rocks
or under the moss and herbage growing in the
stream. When required for examination, we al-
ways found the best way to secure them was with
our landing-net. The song of the Dipper declines
considerably as spring merges into summer. The
cock bird warbles most frequently whilst sitting on
some water-encircled stone or rock, but we have
known him to perch and sing in the alder-trees
growing by the water-side. We always consider
him to be in finest voice during March and April—
a habit fully in keeping with his robust tempera-
ment, and one which instantly puts us in mind of a
louder and sweeter singer, the Missel-thrush. The
Dipper is the one constant avine dweller on the
upland streams, consequently we must in fairness
regard him as the most characteristic bird of these
localities.

Another and daintier species, however, is almost
his equal in this respect, and that is the Gray Wag-
tail. This bird is more susceptible to the changing
seasons, and at the approach of winter deserts the
higher streams altogether, or comes down to the
lower and more sheltered reaches of others. The
Gray Wagtail is a familiar bird along all our York-
shire and Derbyshire streams and rivers. We look
for him quite as a matter of course when we reach

By Upland Streams. 25

the rocks, and the alder and birch and mountain-ash
trees, just as we expect there to find the Dipper.
But this is in summer mostly; in winter he becomes
far more familiar, and during that season comes
much nearer to the busy haunts of men. We have
often seen Gray Wagtails in the bed of the grimy
Don and Sheaf in the very heart of smoky Sheffield

during midwinter; and we know the bird as a winter
resident about all the streams and sluices and dams
in the series of Endcliffe Woods. The bird seems,
however, closely attached to the stream in its upland
solitudes, and at the first sign of spring goes back
to favourite haunts among the moorlands and hills.
We can recall many a romantic reach of the Der-
went, the Wye, and the Dove, where the Gray
Wagtail, the Dipper, and the Kingfisher might be
watched together, the former bird, daintiest and

26 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

most charming of its kind, deftly poised on a rock
in mid-stream vigorously beating its long tail, look-
ing like a single feather until it was opened as the
startled bird took flight; the two latter species flying
alarmed away arrow-like, following the winding
waters, the one as a particoloured ball, the other
as a blue undefined streak of refulgent light. So
likewise has the Gray Wagtail oft been our sole
bird companion on many a Highland water, both on
the mainland and in Skye. We never tire of watch-
ing its sylph-like actions, the dainty way it poises on
the stones or flits along before us stage after stage
in undulating flight uttering its cheery chzz z7¢ as it
goes, or of admiring the exquisite blending of its
showy yet delicately coloured plumage. We have
often made his acquaintance upon more southern
waters, far away in the remote south-west of Eng-
land, but somehow he never there evokes the same
feelings with which we greet him in northern haunts.
The Gray Wagtail visits these upland streams for
the purpose of rearing its young. Not every wan-
derer by the water-side is fortunate enough to get a
peep at this bird’s domestic arrangements. It has,
fortunately perhaps, a happy way of concealing its
nest under some large stone or overhanging rock, or
in a quiet nook, not necessarily in a secluded spot,
but often close by the wayside, where the very
audacity of the selection proves a source of safety.

By Upland Streams. 27

A scrappy little nest it is, dry grass and roots: and
such-like litter thrown carelessly together, and lined
with hair or more rarely a few feathers; artless, yet
possessing a rustic beauty if wanting that elaborate
finish of more painstaking nest-builders. The five
or six eggs are as unassuming as the nest that
holds them, grayish-white freckled with brown, and
perhaps with here and there a scratch of darker
hue. The bird is an early breeder, making its nest
in April, although we have remarked that in Scotland
it is a little later in its operations. This pretty
Wagtail still further endears itself to us by its
attachment to a certain breeding-place, returning in
many cases year by year to build its nest in one
particular spot. Unfortunately the Gray Wagtail
can claim but low rank as a songster. None of our
British Wagtails are singers of much merit, and all
confine their melody to fitful and short snatches of
rambling song, almost invariably uttered as the bird
hovers and flutters in the air. The Gray Wagtail’s
charm rests in its pretty dress, its graceful actions,
and to some extent in its loneliness, for there are
few other small birds to arrest attention in the
haunts it loves. It can claim our almost undivided
admiration on the streams of the uplands from one
extreme corner of Great Britain to the other. Cer-
tainly of few other birds can we say so much; al-
though such an extended distribution is entirely

28 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

due to physical conditions—to the presence of moun-
tains and uplands throughout that area.

The Dipper and the Gray Wagtail are the two
characteristic birds of the upland brook and river
side, rarely if ever seen anywhere else under normal

The Common Sandpiper.

circumstances, and, so far as our observations go,
their happy lives are passed in much the same
manner on the streams of both northern and southern
shires, with the one exceptional movement’ to more
sheltered areas on the part of the latter species in
boreal localities. There is, however, another charm-
ing bird of the mountain streams which we cannot
pass unnoticed, and that is the Common Sandpiper,
or “Summer Snipe” as it is called in many districts.

By Upland Streams. 29

But this species is by no means exclusively confined
to the banks and waters of the upland streams;
neither is it a permanent dweller in such localities.
It is a frequenter of our rivers and streams during
summer only, the season of their greatest attrac-
tiveness; speeding south to Africa like the Swallows
when autumn creeps over the uplands. From Corn-
wall to the Shetlands, wherever there are mountain
streams and upland pools we may meet with the
Common Sandpiper between the months of May
and September, but it is in the northern shires that
the bird becomes most abundant, say from the Peak
district onwards. Our experience of this engaging
bird has been a lifelong one. Each succeeding
spring we used to note its arrival in the old accus-
tomed haunts on the banks of the Yorkshire streams
and moorland pools towards the end of April. It
appears upon our Devonshire and Cornish waters
nearly a fortnight earlier, yet farther north, in the
Highlands, it is seldom seen before the first or
second week in May. The return journey varies
in a corresponding manner, August and September
marking its southern departure from the north; but
in the south it lingers into October, November, and
even December—not, however, by the stream side,
but on the sea-shore. The persistency with which
this Sandpiper returns each year to certain localities,
and its habit of nesting in the same spot summer

30 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

after summer after a prolonged absence of seven
months and a double journey of thousands of miles,
are not the least attractive portions of its economy.
For more summers than we can now recall, the
streams and reservoirs at Hollow Meadows and
Red Mires—within an hour or so’s walk of Sheffield
—were visited by many pairs of Summer Snipes,
and their nests came under our observation with
unfailing certainty. Two pairs of these birds were
remarkably conservative in their nesting grounds,
and used to return each summer to one spot of
eround no larger than our writing-table, and there
make their nests—one pair on the steep banks of a
conduit between the reservoirs, the other on a few
square yards of gravelly ground beside Wyming
brook. We could always depend upon finding the
nests of other pairs within a hundred yards of the
stream banks on certain lengths of the water. We
would hazard the conjecture that descendants of
these birds continue to do so to the present day.
During summer the Sandpiper was quite as familiar
an object along these northern streams as the Dipper
or the Gray Wagtail. Many a time have we seen
the three species by the water-side together. Farther
north, in Scotland, this Sandpiper becomes even more
numerous, and in some parts of the Highlands is, or
used to be, most unaccountably mixed up with the
Dipper. The latter term included both species, the

By Upland Streams. 31

keepers not distinguishing between them. We
have heard the Sandpiper called a ‘‘ Water-crow”
in various parts of Skye especially. Few birds
evince more anxiety at the nest, or when their help-
less chicks are just abroad. For the newly-laid
eggs we cannot recall an instance of this specics
displaying any concern; but when those eggs are
deeply incubated or the young hatched out the be-
haviour of the female bird especially becomes very
different. She will feign a broken wing or lameness,
or endeavour to draw all attention upon herself by
running just out of reach of any observer foolish
enough to give pursuit. But once the young birds
have concealed themselves the parent flies away, or
circles about in the air, generally being joined by
her mate. The four handsome pear-shaped eggs—
pale buff, splashed and spotted with rich brown and
gray—in their scanty nest, usually made beneath
the shelter of a heath tuft or bunch of grass, require
no special protection from the parent, for they har-
monize so closely in tint with surrounding objects
that discovery is difficult in the extreme, even when
we know the exact location of their resting- place.
Curiously enough the Sandpiper is not aquatic in
its habits. It never swims nor dives save when
wounded, but obtains its food whilst tripping round
the muddy and sandy portions of the water's edge.
In early summer, just after their arrival, the cock

32 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

birds may frequently be seen running along the tops
of walls and fences with outspread drooping wings,
or even soaring into the air uttering a shrill note,
both actions being connected with courtship and
love. The usual note of the Common Sandpiper
is a shrill weet uttered several times in succession,
and heard most frequently as the bird rises startled
from the bank and pursues its way across the
water, often so low as to strike the surface with its
wings.

There are many other birds, of course, that may be
met with by upland streams, but the foregoing are
the characteristic species, each in every way adapted
to a life in, or by, the side of their turbulent waters.
These other species found by the mountain or
upland waters may be met with in even greater
plenty elsewhere, so that a mere passing mention
of them will suffice in the present chapter. The
Heron, of course, is a visitor to the side of the up-
land stream; often flushed from the quiet reaches
where the trout and grayling hide under the moss-
grown stones. He is, however, just as much at
home by the margin of lowland pools and streams,
or about the rocky coasts and estuaries, and no
exclusive dweller or sojourner in one locality more
than another. Then the Mallard, especially in the
Highlands, shows a strong preference for these
upland burns, especially during the breeding season;

By Upland Streams. a8
and we can recall instances of flushing the duck of
this species with a numerous progeny from these
mountain torrents. On one occasion we were tramp-
ing the moorlands in Skye in company with a game-
keeper friend and a fine retriever. Suddenly we
came upon a brood of young Wild Ducks and their
mother. The young birds scattered in all directions,
and hid themselves in holes and corners by the
stream and amongst the tufts of rushes. The old
bird, however, would not leave her brood notwith-
standing the onslaught of the barking dog. With
bill wide open and wings expanded she refused to
be driven from the spot; so that, to save her life we
were obliged to secure the dog and to leave the spot,
where doubtless she soon gathered her brood around
her again. Then the Redshank, one of the prettiest
and most graceful of our indigenous wading birds,
is a by no means unfrequent visitor to the sandy
reaches about the eddies in the Highland burns.
This we have repeatedly remarked to be the case
in Cromartyshire, in the streams that flow into Loch
Carron, and in the vicinity of Strome Ferry. But
more of all these interesting birds anon. Lower
down the hillsides, where the course of the upland
streams is marked by a fringe of alder-trees, we have
avine visitors in some variety, especially during the
autumn and winter months. These trees are a

favourite resort of Redpoles, Siskins, and almost all
(4 618) c

34 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

the British species of Titmice between October and
March. The Kingfisher again should claim passing
notice in the bird-life of the upland stream. He,
like the Heron, may be often met with during a
ramble along the banks of these romantic waterways,
but inasmuch as he is also a dweller on all descrip-
tions of water from the hills to the flat country, we
cannot fairly claim him as a special feature in the
bird-life of an upland stream. There are, for instance,
many pairs of Kingfishers that habitually nest in the
steep banks of the Derwent in its higher reaches
among the hills and dales of the Peak; there are
others on many of the hill brooks in the vicinity of
Sheffield; whilst we have repeatedly seen this gem-
like bird on many a Scottish burn. Lastly, we
might mention that the cries of Plovers, Curlews,
Grouse, and Greenshanks, the song of Ring-ouzel,
Twite, and Titlark, the bleating of the Snipe, and
the gag of Wild Geese may often be heard mingling
with the babble of these upland torrents, and the
birds themselves met with on their banks, or within
a short distance of their waters; but all these species
more correctly belong to other localities, and must
be dealt with elsewhere.

GHAPTER® II.
ON MOORLANDS AND ROUGHS.!

N a previous volume, dealing with bird-life in a
southern county, we expressed disappointment
not only with the miniature moorlands of Devon-
shire, but with their lack of feathered inhabitants.
Tame these lands must ever seem by comparison
with the typical moors, and from an ornithological
point of view wanting in interest to persons familiar
with the grand expanse of heath and mountain waste
in the north. For many years we lived within little
more than an hours walk of the Yorkshire and
Derbyshire moors. At one period we used to visit
them several times a week in quest of ornithological
information, varying our experience by occasional
much more extended excursions over them. We
know them in the heat and the brightness of spring
and summer; in the autumn, when their rolling
expanse is aflame with a glow of purple and brazen
bloom from the heath and gorse; as well as in winter,
when the wind sweeps across them in resistless fury,
and the snow covers them with a dazzling pall, level-

1“ Rough”, a local name for wild, uncultivated, rocky lands on the borders
of the moors, clothed with coarse herbage, bramble, heath, and a variety of
Vacciniacez, sphagnum, and other plants.

36 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

ling the hollows and drifting into fantastic wreaths.
We retain vivid memories (supplemented with
copious notes) of the constantly changing aspects
of bird-life upon them. Farther afield we are well
familiar with some of the wildest and grandest of
the Highland heaths. _Monotonous as these vast
wastes may seem, relieved by little or no sylvan
variety, a detailed examination will not fail to reveal
that the impression gained by a casual scrutiny is an
erroneous one. The configuration of their surface
is subject to as much diversity as more pastoral or
arboreal country. We find lofty eminences, spacious
valleys, rolling billowy tracts, extensive plains, hills,
and dales—all for the most part devoid of timber,
yet presenting considerable variety in the vegetation
according to the nature of the soil. The heather
(of various kinds) is of course the one predominat-
ing shrub, but mingled amongst it are more or less
extensive tracts of bilberry and kindred plants, of
bracken, bramble, briar, and a host of others, the
botanical names of which we need not stay here to
specify. This is upon the drier ground; where
marshy conditions prevail we find grasses of various
kinds, rushes, large patches of sphagnum, variegated
here and there with sundew and clumps of bell-
heather, the latter easily identified by its large pale-
pink blooms. Here and there the monotony of the
moors is relieved by lofty crags and ridges of mill-

On Moorlands and Roughs. 37

stone grit, the slopes below them studded with
boulders of varying size right down to the stream.
In some parts the soil is deep and peaty, almost
black; in others it is scanty, and the bed-rocks peep
through the stone-strewn ground, where the sturdy
ling and wire-like bilberry have a hard struggle to
maintain themselves. Roughly speaking, each de-
scription of moorland ground has its own peculiar
birds. Some species there are, it is true, that distri-
bute themselves more or less universally throughout
the moorlands, but others are confined to well-de-
fined limits. Then, again, these moors are inhabited

by two very distinct avifaunze—a limited one which
is practically sedentary, and a more extensive one
composed entirely of migratory species. As might
naturally be expected, the birds that can exist upon
these bleak storm-swept moorlands during winter
are extremely few; possibly we might reduce the
number to a single species, and even this is occasion-
ally partially driven from its heathy haunts by the
inclemency of the northern winter. Of the avine
visitors that flock to the moors each recurring spring-
time, and just as surely depart in autumn, there are
close upon thirty species—a goodly list, and which
is slightly increased by a few passing migrants.
From this it will be seen that these uplands, with
their universal reputation for barrenness, are by no
means devoid of bird-life, and that in summer espe-

38 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

cially they abound with interest to the ornithologist.
The lover of birds, however, will in many, if not in
most cases, find that his quest for knowledge is
hampered by not a few restrictions. Almost every-
where these moors are jealously guarded from the
intrusion of strangers, however harmless they may

The Red Grouse.

be. Keepers are ever on the look-out to warn
intruders off the sacred breeding grounds of the Red
Grouse; the hillsides and plains are systematically
swept by the keeper’s telescope in quest of tres-
passers; innumerable notice - boards threaten the
innocent wayfarer with all the rigours of the law
should he chance to -wander from the scarcely
discernible footpath or the public highway. To
ornithologize in comfort one must make our peace—

Ox Moorlands and Roughs. 39

—usually purchasable at a certain price — with the
custodians of the moors, and then all is plain sailing.
There is much to be said both for and against such
restrictions. On the one hand the Grouse represent
vast sums of money to the owners of the moors, an
income in not a few cases to many an otherwise
impoverished landlord; considerable expense is in-
curred in maintaining a staff of keepers and watchers,
and there is no small outlay in many other directions.
On the other hand, there are those that argue that
the public have a legitimate right to wander at will
over these noble expanses of heather, that they
should be free to all, and that no vested rights should
be allowed in such an utterly wild bird as the Red
Grouse. Unfortunately there can be little doubt
that if the bird were not strictly preserved, and its
shooting an expensive luxury, there would soon be
no Red Grouse left. Of the two evils we would
prefer the former after all, for every naturalist worthy
of the name would deeply deplore the extermination
of such an interesting species, found as it is in no
other part of the world except on the British moor-
lands. Let us keep the species strong and vigorous
and abundant, by whatever means, rather than see
it meet the same wretched fate as the Great Auk
and scores of other interesting avine forms that have
vanished from this world for ever as a direct result

of man’s crass stupidity and wanton slaughter!

40 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Practically there is but one species confined to the
moors all the year round, absolutely indigenous to
them, and found in no other localities. This is the
famous Red Grouse, a species familiar by name if
not by appearance to most people. The abundance
of this bird in the game-dealers’ shops from the 12th
of August onwards to the middle of December ren-
ders it familiar enough with the multitude; but com-
paratively few people know the bird in life amidst
its wild and breezy upland haunts. Not that it is a
species that takes much finding, or that secretes itself
in the remoter parts of its wild home; it is obtrusive
enough, by no means shy, and may generally be seen
in plenty from the highways. Very frequently half
a dozen or more Grouse may be seen sitting upon
the top of the rough stone walls that separate the
heath from the road; tame enough, too, to allow an
observer to approach them within a few paces before
they take wing with noisy cries and hide themselves
among the brown heath. Or again, the wanderer
over the moors who keeps a sharp look-out may
detect plenty of Grouse among the heather, craning
their necks above the vegetation, ready to fly off
to safer quarters if too deeply alarmed. ‘Then, in
spring especially, their very peculiar and unmistak-
able notes never fail to arrest the attention; and not
unfrequently the birds will startle one as they rise,
calling loudly, from the herbage at our very feet by

On Moorlands and Roughs. 41

the wayside. Or very often the big brown birds may
be approached very closely during a fog. In these
districts fogs frequently come on with absolutely
startling rapidity. Not the yellow soup-like abomi-
nations that are so familiar in London and other big
cities, but dense shrouds of white vapour that chill
one to the very marrow, obscure every landmark,
and render the moors practically impassable for the
time being. Often have we been so caught in these
moorland fogs and been compelled to wait amongst
the heath until they cleared. On other occasions
they have overtaken us upon the highways across
the moors, and then we have remarked the apparent
stupidity of the Grouse amongst the mist. We have
approached the birds as they sat bewildered in the
stunted thorn and birch trees by the wayside, or upon
the walls, and often remarked how loth they were to
take wing, allowing us to come within a few feet of
them without showing the slightest concern. The
poacher would make the most of such splendid op-
portunities, but his fraternity are scarce upon the
moors, and the keepers are not much bothered by
such gentry. He has perhaps the most to fear from
the wandering gypsy—that curious mixture of itiner-
ant tinker, hawker, horse-dealer, and romany, that
scours the country-side nomad-like, with a retinue of
scraggy horses, dirty children, tilted wagon and tent.
This man takes every Grouse egg that he can with

42 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

impunity, and every bird that comes in his way. We
well remember how one of the most disastrous moor-
land fires in South Yorkshire was attributed to these
gypsies. Some of their number, we believe, had been
prosecuted for poaching or egg-stealing, and out of
revenge the moors were fired. For days the heather
burned in all directions in spite of every effort to sub-
due it, and vast numbers of Grouse were destroyed
in the flames, and their ancient strongholds reduced
to a blackened waste. The fire, which we could see
from our residence at Heeley, was a most impressive
sight by night, and must have cost the owner of the
moors a large sum even in the mechanical labour of
arresting its progress, to say nothing of the destruc-
tion of the long heather which takes years to replace
and become suitable cover for Grouse. As some
readers may be aware, the heather is systematically
fired, usually in spring, so that a supply of tender
shoots from the resprouting ling may be furnished
as food for the Grouse. Great judgment and
care are required, or vast tracts of cover may
be ruined for years. We have known farmers so
destroy many acres of valuable Grouse cover purely
to secure pasturage for sheep. The Grouse loves
to frequent this long, well-matured ling; it affords
a splendid shelter during winter, whilst the buds
and tender tops form favourite food. Next to the
Ptarmigan, the Red Grouse is by far the wildest

On Moorlands and Roughs. 43

of British game birds, and the least dependent upon
the protection of man. Owing, however, to the ever-
increasing value of the bird for sporting purposes
(a sovereign per brace shot being considered by no
means an exorbitant price), the preservation and
propagation of Red Grouse now receive more care
and consideration than ever. Grouse breeding is
becoming as important in one direction as Pheasant
and Partridge breeding is in another. The birds are
not kept up to their present numbers, notwithstanding
the inroads of the sportsman and the periodical epi-
demics of disease, without the exercise of great care
and skill, not only in the preservation of a necessary
amount of breeding stock, but by the improvement
of the moors by surface-draining, burning, and so on.

The Red Grouse is much more of a ground bird
than the Capercailzie or the Black Grouse, although
it may be seen perched in trees from time to time.
This is all the more interesting because its near ally,
the Willow Grouse—the Lagopus albus of ornitholo-
gists—is greatly attached to trees, roosting in them,
and is chiefly met with amongst birch or willow
thickets. Another interesting fact concerning the
Red Grouse is its strictly monogamous habits, and,
as is almost universally the rule in such cases, the
male resembles the female in colour much more
closely than in Grouse where polygamous instincts

prevail. Marvellously protective in coloration is

44 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

the plumage of the Red Grouse in both sexes and at
all times of the year. The birds are seen only with
the greatest difficulty as they skulk amongst the
heath and other moorland vegetation; the sitting
bird upon her nest is one of the most impressive
object-lessons in protective coloration that we have,
whilst the eggs and chicks themselves are tinted
in colours that harmonize most beautifully with
the objects around them. Very early in spring
the crow of the cock Grouse proclaims the ap-
proaching breeding season. ‘This, however, varies
to some extent, the birds on the highest and most
exposed moors being later to nest than those dwell-
ing on more sheltered heaths. Late snow-storms
often destroy many nests, even on the English
moors; and we have seen nests in April in South
Yorkshire buried in snow and the eggs frozen.
Farther north, on the Scottish moors, the young
birds sometimes suffer considerably from late snow-
storms, whilst persistent wet is almost as fatal to
them. The nest is scanty enough, and always
made upon the ground amongst the ling and
heather, being merely a hollow scratched out by
the hen bird and lined with a little vegetable re-
fuse, such as bents, withered sprays of heath, and
fern fronds. Many nests are made quite close to
the highways and footpaths. We have known nests
within half a dozen yards of the turnpike road along

On Moorlands and Roughs. A5

which traffic of some kind was continually passing.
The number of eggs varies a good deal according to
the season, age of the hen bird, and situation of the
moor. Few of our British eggs are handsomer,
being cream-white in ground colour, thickly marked
with brown of varying shades from red and crimson
to nearly black. The colour, however, is by no
means a “fast” one, and may be easily washed off,
so that they require to be taken as soon as laid, and
handled and kept for some weeks at least with care,
if their beauty is to be preserved in the cabinet.
Although the Red Grouse is not polygamous, the
cock bird does not assist in the duties of incubation,
still he assists the hen in bringing up the brood.
During autumn and winter the life of the Red
Grouse is by no means a happy one, that is to say
in some ways. From the 12th of August to the
1oth of December he has to run the gauntlet of the
gunner; and now that the deadly practice of ‘“driv-
ing” is almost universally resorted to, on the York-
shire moors at all events, even the wary old birds
are shot down practically at will. Then when the
shooters are done with him the Grouse has all the
hardships of a northern winter to go through. Snow-
storms of unusual severity often drive Red Grouse
from the moors to the lower and more sheltered
valleys, even to the nearest farmyards, where we
have known them search for food with the poultry.

46 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

During some winters the Grouse have been so hard
pressed as to quit the heather in numbers, and we
have then known them actually to be taken in the
streets of Sheffield! With a moderate winter, how-
ever, the birds manage fairly well, snow-storms being
always the most fatal to them. Upon the return of
spring, given an absence from disease, the birds soon
get into prime condition again; most of the weakly
ones have been weeded out, and the surviving stock
of vigorous birds are ready to propagate their kind.
But we must now leave the Red Grouse crowing
so lustily to each other amongst the heather, and
devote a portion of our space to the many other
feathered dwellers upon the moors and _heaths.
Perhaps it may be best to clear off the few Pas-
serine species first. These are all birds of migra-
tory habits, although some are greater travellers
than others. Beginning with those that journey
the shortest distance, we may notice first the
Meadow Pipit. Although by no means an exclu-
sively moorland bird, the Meadow Pipit is almost
universally distributed over these wastes between
spring and autumn, wherever the ground is wet.
Almost to a bird these Pipits leave the South
Yorkshire moors during September and October.
We used sometimes to meet with odd birds on the
rough grounds below the moors during winter, but,
speaking generally, the migrational movement 1s

On Moorlands and Roughs. 47

pretty complete. Meadow Pipits always give us
the impression of being somewhat sad little birds,
taking life very seriously, as even human dwellers
on these moorland solitudes are apt to do. We may
illustrate this by a comparison of the cheery Wren
with these Pipits, and then the reader will quite
understand our meaning. The melancholy com-
plaining note of the Meadow Pipit is one of the
most characteristic small-bird notes on the moors
between April and October. Every marshy spot
is almost certain to contain a pair or more of them,
and their nests are the favourite nursery of the
Cuckoo. The song of this species is a pleasing one,
uttered as the bird descends from a short flight into
the air. All through the genial days of a moorland
spring the birds may be watched rising and falling,
shuttlecock-like, from the heath and cotton-grass.
Then, when the nesting season is past, the young
and old join into flocks of varying size and betake
themselves to the lower ground, appearing in
autumn in large numbers in turnip fields and
potato patches. The breeding season of this Pipit
varies considerably according to latitude. On the
southern uplands, in Devonshire for instance, the
nest is made in April; in the Highlands it is from
one to two months later. The migrational move-
ments are about the same date in Yorkshire as they
are in Devonshire ; and the journey extends in both

48 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

localities from the high inland moors down to the
marshy meadows and saltings of the coast. We have
found nests of this Pipit in the Rivelin Valley built
absolutely in shallow pools of stagnant water, the
moss of the foundation being saturated with mois-
ture. [hese nests contained the usual complement
of eggs and the birds were sitting upon them.
Another characteristic bird of the moors, and one
with almost exactly the same migrational movements
as the Meadow Pipit, is the Twite. This unassum-
ing species is the one Finch of the wide undulating
expanses of heather. It may be readily identified
by the merest novice. Like a Linnet in general
appearance, but wanting the exquisite carmine flush
that adorns the more homely bird, as well as the
ruby-coloured patch on the crown, its distinction is
its bright-yellow bill. The Twite, most appropriately
called in many districts the “Heather Lmtie’> is
but a bird of summer amongst the heather, retiring
in autumn to the lowland fields, where we shall meet
with it again amidst much more pastoral surround-
ings. Usually one meets with it sitting on some
tall twig of ling, uttering its monotonous note, which
the imagination of ornithologists has syllabled as
twa-tte; hence the bird’s trivial name. It will thus
sit and call monotonously until our nearer approach
disturbs it, and it rises and flits in a drooping man-
ner just above the heather to another perching-place

On Moorlands and Roughs. 49

a little farther on, to repeat its call and again to await
our advance, when once more it rises to drop upon
some twig and renew its plaint. The Twite gains

The Twite.

an additional interest when we remember how rare
a bird it is in the south; we know it as a by no
means common winter visitor in Devonshire, not-
withstanding the fact that there are many localities
where one might expect to find it in summer; whilst

even in treeless Cornwall—a wild rugged land enough
(M618 ) D

50 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

—the bird is so rare that Rodd knew of but a single
example, and that was obtained near Penzance.
Then again the bird is confined during the breeding
season exclusively to the British moors, with the
exception of the coast districts of Norway. From
the midlands of England northwards to the Shet-
lands, the Twite has its only summer residence with
us. We fear that we never appreciated the Twite
sufficiently when we lived so close to its haunts and
considered him too common for any special notice or
admiration. It is only after we have dwelt in dis-
tricts where he is unknown that we have begun to
regard him with exceptional attention; and now,
profiting by past experience, we never see him flit-
ting about the heather without giving a thought to
his localness. After all, he is a most interesting
little bird; and his pretty nest, cunningly concealed
amongst the tangled heath, possesses a rustic beauty
that well rewards one’s patience for the often toil-
some search. It is a cup-shaped structure, made
externally of grass bents, twigs, and moss, the inside
warmly lined with down from willow catkin and
cotton-grass, wool from the sheep that graze upon
the moors, and feathers. The five or six eggs are
very similar to those of the Linnet, pale bluish-green
spotted with reddish-brown and gray. The Twite
gets back to the moors in April, and its domestic
duties, accompanied by its weak little song, are per-

Ox Moorlands and Roughs. 51

formed in April and May. In the Highlands the
birds nest later than in Yorkshire, but not much, for
we have seen flocks of young birds strong on the
wing in Scotland in June. The moorlands are
finally deserted for the winter during September and
October—a vertical migration as interesting, if not
so extensive, as the Swallows’ flight to Africa. A
passing glance should also be given at the Wheatear.
This bird is by no means confined to the moors, yet
it is very characteristic of many parts of them, espe-
cially in the far north. In Yorkshire it is by no
means uncommon about the old quarries and pits on
the moors; farther north it becomes more numerous,
although scarcely attached to the heather in the same
way as the Twite. Like its congeners it is a dweller
among the stones, a trait which has not escaped the
notice of the Highland peasants, who call the Wheat-
ear “Clacharan-. a “Stone-clatter’; or a “Little
Mason”. This may possibly be because his note
resembles the clicking noise made by two pebbles
struck together, as well as from his propensity for
the rocks and stones. On the Scottish moorlands
we have found this bird specially common about the
peat-pits and stacks, and in these latter we have often
found its nest—a somewhat untidy structure made of
dry grass and sometimes lined with hair and feathers,
usually containing five or six pale-blue eggs. The
migrations of the Wheatear must be performed very

52 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

quickly. In Devonshire we note its arrival towards
the end of March, and yet by the first half-dozen
days of April it has penetrated even as far as the
Orkneys and the Hebrides! Passing mention should
here also be made of the Sky-lark and the Stone-
chat—neither bird strictly a moorland one, yet both
found in the locality. The Stonechat, we remember,
used to be, and may be now, fairly common on the
rough broken ground, not exactly true moorland, in
the valley of the Rivelin at Hollow Meadows, half a
dozen miles west of Sheffield.

Our last moorland Passere is the Ring-ouzel, a
prime favourite with us, and a species with which
we have been exceptionally familiar from boyhood’s
days. This bird always impressed us to a remark-
able degree, possibly because it is such a bold and
assertive one. With a lifelong experience of this
handsome Ouzel—he is known to the country people
in South Yorkshire and North Derbyshire as the
“Tor Ouzel”, z.e. Mountain Ouzel—we should un-
hesitatingly state that it is commonest in the district
of the Peak. He breeds upon the Cornish uplands,
and in Devonshire upon Dartmoor, as we have re-
peatedly remarked; then we find him on the uplands
of Somerset, and increasingly common over the
Welsh mountains northwards to the vast solitudes
of the Pennine chain. Farther north in Scotland he
is found, but our experience is that the bird is local,

On Moorlands and Roughs. 53

and common nowhere in the latter country. The
moors west of Sheffield, for some reason or another,
are specially sought by the Ring-ouzel; and no-
where in that district is the bird more abundant than

——

The Ring-ouzel,

in the Rivelin Valley

and between Stanage Edge

and Derwent Edge, and on the Bamford

and Bradfield moors. South of Sheffield we may
meet with this Ouzel in fair numbers about Dore,
Owler Bar, and westwards over the Hathersage up-
lands.

As most readers may know, the Ring-ouzel is a

54 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

spring migrant to the British Islands, and the only
migratory Thrush that comes to that area to rear its
young. Like some other northern migrants, its passage
is by no means a slow one. It arrives in South Devon
sometimes as early as the end of March, more usually
the beginning of April, and what is rather remark-
able, this date is practically coincident with its arrival
in South Yorkshire. For many years we paid special
attention to the migrational movements of this bird,
and should give its date of arrival as the first week
in April in that district. This seems to indicate
beyond question that Ring-ouzels migrate direct to
their breeding areas after landing on our southern
coasts. They journey in flocks, often of considerable
size, and several seasons we were fortunate enough to
observe them in companies numbering several hun-
dreds of birds, on the very day of their appearance
in the Rivelin Valley. These flocks soon disband;
in a day or so they break up, and the birds scatter
themselves in pairs over all the suitable breeding-
places. The cock bird is not only a handsome one,
but very distinctively marked, easily recognized as
far as the eye can reach by his pure white gorget;
otherwise he very closely resembles the Blackbird in
general appearance. The resemblance does not end
here, though, and in its habits and movements gener-
ally, as well as in the nest and eggs, we have an equal

similarity.

Ox Moorlands and Roughs. 55

Whilst in flocks the birds are wary and wild
enough, but when breeding they become bold and
venturesome to an astonishing degree—in these
respects exactly resembling their ally, the Missel-
thrush. We remark this Ouzel’s habit of elevating
the tail after alighting, just as the Blackbird does;
we also cannot fail to notice its exceeding noisiness
just prior to seeking a roosting-place; neither shall
we fail to observe its very Blackbird-like way of
feeding, ever alert and watchful. Soon after their
arrival, but never, so far as we have observed, be-
fore the flocks or travelling parties have disbanded,
the cock birds regain their vernal music characteristic
of the love season. With the resumption of song
the bird loses a good deal of its wariness, a fact we
may notice in not a few other species. He will sit
and warble on the big boulders of granite or mill-
stone grit, or when perched on the top of a rough
wall or some bending spray of ling or gorse, just
as sweetly as when sitting in the higher branches of
some birch or mountain-ash.+ His music is not of
that rich excellence that marks the song of the
Blackbird, nor has it the variety so characteristic of
the Thrush; yet there is a wild beauty in harmony
with the surrounding scene that makes ample recom-
pense for its failings in other ways. Unfortunately
the bird continually spoils his music by introducing
a series of inharmonious harsh notes. Like that of

56 Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

the Blackbird the song is all too short, and even
lacks the redeeming feature of continuous flute-like
melody, short as it is, that saves the Blackbird’s from
being classed as commonplace. To our mind, the
Ring-ouzel always increased in interest during the
breeding season. Many scores of nests of this bird
have we kept under observation, not a few of them
from the time the first twig was laid until the four
or five nestlings left them for ever. The birds are
much attached to certain spots, and return to nest
in them with wonderful pertinacity. Then, again,
how often have we remarked their absurd attach-
ment to a nest in the course of building. We have
known Ring-cuzels show more concern for a hand-
ful of nest material—by no means a finished nest—
than scores of other species display over the absolute
loss of a nest and eggs. The Ring-ouzel is the
Stormcock of the moor—ready to do battle with
much noisy clamour the moment its nest is ap-
proached. This nest is not always made amongst
the ling and heather; numbers are placed in low
bushes on the outskirts of the moor, and on the
banks of the streams and by the sides of the roughly-
formed cart-tracks, especially where the banks are
steep. In early autumn Ring-ouzels again become
more or less social and gregarious; they then begin
to wander off the moors to the nearest fruit gardens,
and so gradually work south in parties and flocks.

On Moorlands and Roughs. 57

Gilbert White, whose pleasure at his discovery of
the migrating Ring-ouzels across the Sussex Downs
may easily be surmised by the reader of his ever-
charming letters, tells us that he used to see these
Thrushes—more than a hundred years ago—in little
parties about Michaelmas, and again in April, and
remarked their tameness. The birds are not so
common in that area now; times have changed and
many species are gone, for in the same letter (No.
VII) he tells us that there are Bustards on the wide
downs near Brighthelmstone! Perhaps we might
here take the opportunity of mentioning that flocks
of Snow Buntings sometimes appear on the High-
land moors, but our own experience of this charming
arctic stranger relates to more southern shires, and
where we hope to meet with it again later on in the
present work. |

The birds of prey that haunt the moors are all
more or less migratory in their habits, as might
naturally be expected, because the species upon
which they depend for food are non-resident too.
The Red Grouse, it is true, is sedentary, but no
raptorial bird frequents the moors that preys exclu-
sively upon that species, and it chiefly suffers during
the breeding season when the young chicks and
poults are about. The Merlin is the most deadly
enemy of these. It is a spring migrant to the
moors, and is not known to breed with certainty

58 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

south of Wales. It may just possibly do so on
Exmoor, but certainly does not on Dartmoor; in

The Merlin.

fact, to Devonshire it must be regarded as a rare
visitor in autumn and winter. We have always

On Moorlands and Roughs. 59

found the Merlin to be fairly common throughout
the moors of North Derbyshire and South York-
shire. It is ruthlessly persecuted by the gamekeeper,
and its numbers consequently have declined almost
to the vanishing point in not a few districts. We
never saw much of the Merlin on the moors between
Castleton and Sheffield before April. There are
many favourite haunts on these moors in which the
bird may be found breeding every summer; and
curiously enough, although pair after pair may be
destroyed, others come and settle in the district the
following season. We are glad to be able to record
that the bird has not been so severely hunted down
in one or two places, and consequently its numbers
seem to be on the increase. The spirited dash of
this pretty little Falcon is not exceeded by that of
the Peregrine itself. Times without number have
we witnessed its fatal chase of the smaller birds of
the moor— Twites, Ring-ouzels, Meadow Pipits,
and less frequently of Plovers, Grouse, and occa-
sionally Cuckoos. In the higher valley of the Rive-
lin, we once watched an exciting chase by this bird
of a Common Sandpiper, which had been flushed
from the heath-clad bank of one of the reservoirs
at Hollow Meadows. Pursuer and pursued strove
their utmost, the Sandpiper doubling, rising, and
turning from side to side, and the relentless Merlin
following closely every movement as though each

60 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

bird were guided simultaneously by a common im-
pulse. The chase was continued over the large
reservoir, and we had a fine uninterrupted view of
each bird’s powers of wing. The Sandpiper, after
the water was crossed, gained a brief respite by
hiding amongst the rushes on the opposite bank;
but the Falcon, undeterred, hovered above the spot
and once more flushed its quarry. The poor little
Sandpiper wheeled rapidly round and then flew off
across a rough bit of rock and heath-strewn ground,
but its strength was exhausted; the Merlin’s superior
powers of flight and endurance asserted themselves,
and the Sandpiper, with a piteous weet wee? of terror,
was struck down. But the various birds of the
moorlands are by no means the Merlin’s only food.
Like most, if not all the smaller Falcons, it subsists
largely on certain insects. Whether the bird’s good
offices in this direction counterbalance its tax upon
young Grouse we need not stay here to enquire.
Perhaps in this case they do not, for the insects
caught can do little or no damage in such localities;
but on the other hand, we must remember that the
Falcon assists in keeping up the Grouse to a strong
and vigorous standard by killing off—if amongst
others—a certain percentage of weakly and unfit
birds. There is some evidence to show that Grouse
disease appears in regular cycles on most moors—
Say every seven years—and competent observers

On Moorlands and Roughs. 61

have attributed it to old birds spreading the con-
tagion. Now, had the larger Raptores not been so
ruthlessly exterminated in these localities, surely it
is only reasonable to suppose that they would have
thinned out many of these birds, not perhaps pre-
venting an epidemic, but thus assisting in rendering
it of a milder character than otherwise prevails.
Depend upon it, man seldom or never meddles with
the delicately-adjusted balance of nature without un-
fortunate results in some direction. But to return to
the Merlin and its economy. Like the Sparrow-hawk
and many other raptorial birds, this pretty species
selects some spot or spots in its haunts to which it
conveys its captures to devour them in peace. The
nest is almost invariably made at no great distance
from these ‘‘dining-tables” or ‘“‘larders”, where the
bare and often rock-strewn ground is sprinkled with
feathers, bones, pellets, wing-cases and wings of
insects, the remains of the Merlin’s food. These
haunts, as previously remarked, are tenanted yearly
with wonderful regularity, and the nest each season
is made in much the same locality as in previous
years. This nest is of the simplest, and always, so
far as we know, upon the ground. “Nests” have
been recorded in Scotland in the old nest of some
other bird in a tree;' whilst in some foreign coun-
tries a ledge of a cliff is said to be selected. Our

1Conf. Zoologist, 1878, p. 29.

62 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

experience is that it is invariably upon the ground,
and generally on a rather bare spot amongst the
heather or ling, often on an eminence of some kind.
Here in a slight hollow, with no lining as likely as
not, the four or five pretty red eggs of the Merlin
are laid. They are absolutely indistinguishable from
those of the much commoner Kestrel, but their
terrestrial resting-place should prevent the novice
confusing them zz széz. In autumn the Merlins
quit the moors. It is difficult to say how far these
birds indigenous to our own moorlands migrate;
there is evidence to suggest that the movement is
limited to a trip to the lowlands, extending even to
the coast. On the other hand, the bird is certainly
a species with a strongly marked and regular passage
in most parts of its extra British range. A word as
to the plumage of this interesting Falcon. The
cock bird, with his slate-gray upper parts, rufous
nape, more or less distinctly barred tail, dark wings,
and rufous under parts streaked with dark brown, is
possibly familiar to most readers. The hen bird, so
far as we can determine, is not only slightly bigger
than her mate, but much less handsome in colour.
She is dark rufous-brown on the upper parts, each
feather with a paler margin, the buff nape patch is
paler and much less distinctly defined, the tail is
browner, and the under parts are dirty white streaked
with brown. This plumage closely resembles that

On Moorlands and Roughs. 63

of the young male. During the past quarter of a
century we have examined a great many skins of
the Merlin, and almost without exception the sexual
differences in colour were as described above. There
are authorities, however, that maintain that the adult
plumage of the female of this Falcon is very similar
to that of the male. In this we are disposed to con-
cur, for we have examined an adult female obtained
by Dr. Scully in Gilgit (and his sexing of specimens
is most reliable, as every naturalist who has had the
pleasure of seeing them will agree, the sexual organs
being in most cases sketched on the labels attached
to the skins), in which the sexual differences of colour
were most trifling. It is said that the females are
shot off in this country before they can obtain their
fully adult dress. In fairness, however, we must
state that there is always the possibility of very old
females assuming the male plumage, and their ap-
parent rarity may be due to this fact.

Unfortunately the other moorland birds of prey
are now rare almost to the verge of extinction;
indeed, we regret to say the Merlin itself in not a
few localities is fast approaching the same condition.
The species that we shall allude to here is the Hen
Harrier. This bird, like nearly all the other birds
of the moors, is a migratory one, although there is
some evidence to suggest that in our islands the
movement is to some extent confined to a journey

64 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

to the lowlands and the southern counties. Formerly
this Harrier was a fairly familiar bird on the moors
of the south-western counties, where, however, its
local names of ‘“ Blue Hawk” and “Furze Kite”,
indicative of old-time abundance, are nearly all that
is left to us. We may remark in connection with
this bird that a century ago the male and female
(being so much unlike each other in plumage) were
almost universally regarded as two distinct species,
the latter known as the “ Ring-tail” Hawk. Mon-
tagu cleared up the confusion by rearing a brood
(doubtless from a Devonshire nest), and clearly
demonstrated that the two supposed species were in
reality the opposite sexes of one. About the South
Yorkshire moors the Hen Harrier is_ practically
unknown. Our limited experience of the bird was
obtained on the moors of Skye, where we believe it
still continues to nest. We have there seen it beat-
ing along the hillsides in a slow deliberate manner
just above the tall ling, amongst which, in this island,
it almost invariably makes its nest, placing it upon
the ground. The four or five very pale-blue eggs
are often destroyed by sheep; in fact, we were as-
sured by an intelligent keeper in Skye that to this
cause alone its diminishing numbers must be attri-
buted. This Harrier reaches the moors in April or
early May, and nests during the latter month and
the first half of June. The cock is a beautiful bird,

On Moorlands and Roughs. 65

with gray upper parts, darker on the throat and
breast, the remainder of the under parts and the
upper tail-coverts pure white, the primaries black.
The hen is somewhat larger, dark-brown above,
paler brown below, streaked with rufous-brown; the
upper tail-coverts are, however, nearly white as in
the male, which fact seems to suggest that they are
a recognition mark (Conf. Crzzzosztzes of Lird Life,
p. 249). The principal food of this Harrier consists
of small animals, such as moles, mice; of frogs,
lizards, and insects. The bird is also a great egg
eater, robbing the nests of other moorland species.
Although to some small extent it may prey upon
birds, there is nothing in its habits to cause uneasi-
ness to the owner of a Grouse moor; the _ bird’s
comparative harmlessness should secure for it greater
immunity from gun, trap, and poison than it at
present receives. There are one or two other Rap-
tores we may just allude to here as dwellers on or
fairly regular visitors to the moorlands. On the
South Yorkshire moors the Kestrel is, we are glad
to say, still a fairly common bird. It is fond of the
outskirts of the moors, the rough grounds often
crowned with ridges

ranges of low cliffs—of mill-
stone grit, and in these it habitually nests. Then
the Sparrow-hawk is a frequent visitor to the heath-
clad wastes, but chiefly to the borderland and in

localities where there are plantations of larch and fir,
(at 618) E

66 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

in which the bird can find seclusion and a suitable
nesting haunt. We have often remarked that these
moorland Sparrow-hawks quit such areas during
winter when small birds are absent. The Rough-
legged Buzzard passes over many parts of the South
Yorkshire moors on migration, especially in autumn.
We have examined many fine examples of this bird,
obtained on the Ashopton moors and about Derwent,
chiefly birds of the year. The two species of British
Eagles must also be mentioned as visitors to the
Highland moors, although not exclusively indigenous
to them. They are better described as mountain
birds, and shall receive more detailed notice in our
chapter devoted to the avine characteristics of such
localities. (Conf. p. 81.) So also may we remark
that the Raven will be dealt with in the same chapter.
In Devonshire the Raven is still to be found on
Dartmoor—one of the few inland localities that it
frequents in England nowadays; but elsewhere on
the English moors, so far as our experience goes,
the bird is but a casual visitant.

The moorlands, being as they are the least changed
districts in the British area, continue to be the re-
sort of a large number of shy birds of the Plover
and Sandpiper tribe during the breeding season.
In some places no doubt the number of these birds
is visibly diminishing, but in the wilder districts
there still remain sufficient to constitute a decided

Ox Moorlands and Roughs. 67

ornithological feature. One of the best known of
these is the Lapwing. Fortunately we can still
class the Lapwing as a common and even abundant

bird in suitable districts, and now that its eggs are

ea
~F . ~ a =
a ee a

The Lapwing.

protected by law in not a few spots we may hope to
see a welcome increase. This beautiful Plover—
one of the handsomest of the entire group—is by no
means confined to the moors; it is a most adaptive
species, and makes itself at home on arable land as
readily as in wilder areas, still it is a prominent
feature in not a few moorland scenes. Who does

68 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

not know the sad mewing cries and the restless
uneven flight of this Plover, as it rises startled from
the ground and commences its plaintive protest
against our intrusion? Large numbers of Lapwings
breed on the North Derbyshire and South York-
shire moorlands, as well as on the rough grounds in
their vicinity. We remember on one occasion—we
have a note recording the fact—seeing a pair of
Lapwings drop quietly to the ground just behind
a stone wall that separated the moor from the high-
way. Creeping carefully up to the spot we looked
through a chink in the wall and saw the two old
birds with four chicks which could not have been
hatched many hours. The scene was a charming
one. The downy long-legged little creatures were
running about picking here and there, their parents
standing guard, alert and watchful, yet totally un-
conscious of prying human eyes not a dozen feet
away from them. After watching this family party
for some time we intentionally came into view, when
the scene instantly became more interesting than it
was before. Both old birds rose into the air and
commenced wheeling and rolling about just above
our head, the female by far the most venturesome
of the two. Then she alighted a yard or so away,
and with both her broad wings sweeping the ground
dragged herself along for a few paces, striving her
hardest to get us to follow. But we confined our

Ox Moorlands and Roughs. 69

attention for a time to the chicks. All four of these
artful youngsters at the first alarm scattered in as
many different directions and hid themselves amongst
the heath and grass almost with the rapidity of
thought. Search as we might we could find but
two, although we knew full well the others were
concealed on a patch of ground no larger than
an ordinary table. These two chicks we pocketed
for specimens, but we were so touched by the way
the old Lapwings followed us over the moor crying
so plaintively that more humane feelings got the
better of us, and we returned to the spot and placed
both young birds where we had found them. Such
little episodes as these go so far, we always think, in
making ornithology so very attractive.

Another allied species breeding on most of our
northern moors (and in some few instances in the
south-western counties) is the Golden Plover. There
are few more handsome birds of this order than the
Golden Plover in wedding plumage. The upper

parts—as they are all the year round—are thickly

spotted with golden yellow on a dark-brown ground,
the under surface is black as jet. We begin to see
these Plovers back upon their moorland breeding-
places in March; in April they become more nume-
rous. Like most of the other birds found on these
moors in summer they spend the winter upon the
lowlands; in this case frequenting the flat coasts and

70 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

marshy meadows and saltings near the sea. They
love the swampy portions of the moors—the spacious
hollows between the hills, where the wet ground is
clothed with a dense growth of rushes, cotton-grass,
and sphagnum, amongst which the heath and ling
in scattered patches mark the drier portions of the
ground. At the first alarm the ever-watchful Plovers
rise one after the other from all parts of the waste,
and then begins a chorus of flute-like whistling cries,
bird after bird taking up the chorus and alarming
all other and less demonstrative species within hear-
ing. Here and there a Golden Plover may be seen
quietly standing upon the spongy ground. But it
needs sharp eyes to see them, so closely does their
spangled backs harmonize with the golden sphagnum
and other vegetation. May is their breeding season,
and their four large pear-shaped eggs are deposited
in a scantily-lined hollow, often beneath the shade
of a tuft of rushes or cotton-grass. These eggs are
very much the same in general appearance as those
of the Lapwing, but the tints are richer and brighter.
Of the Sandpiper or Snipe tribe there are at least
half a dozen more or less common species that visit
the moors in spring to breed. Most of them are
never met with on our south-western uplands at this
season, although the Snipe, the Curlew, and the
Dunlin are more cosmopolitan in their choice. The
two former species are by far the commonest and

On Moorlands and Roughs. 7a

most widely dispersed on the Yorkshire moors, the
remaining four or five are rarer, more local, or absent
altogether. The peculiar drumming or bleating of
the Snipe is one of the most characteristic of avine
sounds upon these moors in spring; the quavering
whistle (uttered always, or nearly so, whilst the bird
is upon the ground), or the better known and some-
what mournful cwrlee (heard whilst the bird is career-
ing to and fro in mid-air) of the Curlew is little, if
any, less familiar. On the Hebridean moors, as well
as on those of Orkney and Shetland, in the neigh-
bourhood of the sea, the Whimbrel breeds sparingly.
It is extremely local, but its habits and economy
generally are very similar to those of the larger and
better known Curlew. It differs, however, in its
migrations, and is a summer visitor only to the
British Islands, the greater number passing over
them to still more northern breeding grounds in the
Faroes, Iceland, and elsewhere. The Dunlin, not-
withstanding the fact that it nests on some of our
south-western uplands, finds its favourite breeding
grounds on more northern moors up to the Orkneys
and the Shetlands. Here again we have a species
donning a jet-black belly for the nuptial season. It
also displays a very decided preference for the
swampy portions of the moors in which to perform
its nesting duties. Then there are the two species
of Totani, the one easily distinguished by its orange-

72 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

coloured legs (the Redshank), the other by its green
legs and slightly upturned bill (the Greenshank).
The latter, however, is much rarer than the former,
and is only known to breed in the Highlands. The
Redshank is fairly common during summer on our
northern moors, but this species, like one or two
others, is as much at home in more lowland haunts.
You may meet with it during summer amongst
scenery of a directly opposite character —the fens
and broads of the eastern counties. Redshanks are
alert and noisy birds, rising from their moorland
haunts when alarmed, and keeping up their shrill
double note with almost irritating persistency. As
numbers often breed in the same district, the din
from the frightened birds soon becomes general. The
Greenshank visits its breeding grounds in April and
May, coming from over the sea like all our strictly
summer visitors, and departing in September and
October with its young. This bird again is a noisy
one when disturbed, and careers about the air in
excitement until left in peace. All these birds breed
upon the ground, lay four eggs possessing very
similar characteristics in colour and shape, and their
nests are found with some difficulty, owing to the
protective tints of their eggs.

Of the Duck family the Mallard is by far the
commonest and most widely dispersed. It loves
the pools and streams and marshy spots upon the

On Moorlands and Roughs. 73
moors, but as it breeds as generally in more lowland
localities we can scarcely describe it as a typical
moorland bird. The same remarks may be said to
apply to the Teal, the Wigeon, and some few
others. Then in the moorland fastnesses of the
Hebrides, and in some parts of the mainland High-
lands, the Gray-lag Goose still finds a haunt suff-
ciently seclusive, although we are assured that its
numbers are decreasing. We know from personal
experience that it breeds amongst the ling and
heather on some of the Outer Hebrides, making a
huge nest of branches and twigs, rushes, and other
dry vegetation which is finally lined with down.
The six to eight eggs are creamy-white in colour.
This bird again is by no means a typical moorland
one, for it formerly bred in the fens of East Anglia,
and would do so to this day had it not been exter-
minated. Of the Gull tribe, perhaps the most
characteristic moorland species are the Skuas, two
species of which are summer migrants to certain of
our wildest Highland moors. Where the moors
extend down to the coast in various northern districts,
such birds as Terns, Sheldrakes, and Eider Ducks
may be found breeding upon them, but we can
scarcely regard such species or such localities to come
within the scope of the present chapter.

CEA PATE Re hile

ON MOUNTAIN AND LOCH.

OUNTAIN bird-life, if scarce, is not without

its charm. That of the loch, taking one
season with another, is more varied and abundant;
so that combining the two districts together—and
they are in most cases inseparably associated—we
shall have abundant material to interest us. The
mountain bird-life of England—except, perhaps, in
the extreme north—is comparatively limited, espe-
cially nowadays when persecution has worked such
havoc amongst certain species. That of the loch is
peculiarly of a Scottish type inasmuch as the present
chapter is concerned. The bird-life of these two
districts is essentially of a northern type, belonging,
like the mountains and lochs themselves, to a wilder
and more rugged scenery than any the southern
shires can boast. Many of the avine forms belong-
ing to these localities are strictly boreal or even
arctic in their distribution, finding a suitable habitat
by altitude rather than latitude; many of them are
but winter visitors or abnormal wanderers to the
south. In some cases these particular localities are
the home of representative species that take the

On Mountain and Loch. 75

place of more southern types, and afford us a fine
series of ornithological comparisons of the deepest
interest. The naturalist familiar with bird-life in
the southern counties only, will, in investigating the
avifauna of mountain and loch, enter upon an entirely
novel series of avine phenomena.

From the moorlands to the mountains and lochs
is in many localities a transition of an almost im-
perceptible character. In not a few cases the moors
terminate in mountain summits beyond the border-
land, where the two species of heather cease to
climb, or the most sturdy and tenacious ling that
clothes the hillsides for still another thousand feet or
more. In a similar manner the lochs are usually
situated in hollows among the hills, or penetrate in
winding fiords from the sea between towering high-
lands or heath-clothed wastes that at higher altitudes
terminate in bare and wind-swept mountain summits.
As with the avifauna of the moors and heaths we
shall find that the birds of the mountains are more
or less a shifting population. Indeed the similarity
is made even more complete by the fact that in both
regions—moor and mountain—we find but one se-
dentary species. Upon the moors we found the
practically resident Red Grouse; upon the mountains
we shall find the Ptarmigan, a bird that clings to
the bleak summits throughout the year. In some
respects the Ptarmigan is a more interesting species

76 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

than the Red Grouse; there is more variety in its
economy, and the bird itself is one of the most
beautiful examples of protective coloration that the
entire range of organic life can show. Our first
acquaintance with the Ptarmigan was made nearly

The Ptarmigan.

twenty years ago, near the summit of the Cuchullin
Hills in Skye. Although the time was May, patches
of snow were lying in the hollows and a cold pierc-
ing wind swept along the hillsides. Lower down
the slopes we had lingered to watch the gambols
of a pair of Ravens that were haunting the rocks;
whilst a Peregrine Falcon had just swept by. Upon
a small piece of level ground we flushed several
Ptarmigan, one after the other, that had been lying

On Mountain and Loch. hl

concealed on the stony face of the mountain. They
were readily identified by their white wings. After

a ME Te Se

the first bird had risen we scanned the ground care-
fully for others, but none were seen until they rose

in noisy flight and sped away. It is interesting to

78 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

remark that the Peregrine we had seen a short time
before must have flown right over the spot where
these Ptarmigan were crouching. Possibly the
recent appearance of the Falcon had made them lie
closer than usual, and rendered them loth to take
wing. With the exception of a few weeks in the
very depth of winter, the Ptarmigan is more or less
changing in colour throughout the year. In mid-
winter, as most readers may know, the bird is pure
unsullied white, with the exception of a jet-black
patch in front of the eye in the male, and the outer-
most tail-feathers, which are black in both sexes.
In early spring, sometimes it is said by the middle
or end of February, the first signs of the coming
summer plumage are seen on the neck, and during
the three succeeding months the birds undergo a
complete transformation, the feathers on the breast,
it should be noted, being assumed last of all. It is
a significant fact that the parts of the plumage least
exposed, such as the flight feathers and the feathers
on the belly, present the smallest amount of change
from the white winter dress. This is more apparent
in the male than in the female, doubtless owing to
the fact that the latter is more liable to injury whilst
brooding on the nest. Broadly speaking, in the
male in summer plumage the upper parts and the
breast and flanks are dark-brown, more or less

mottled, and barred with gray and buff; whilst in

Ox Mountain and Loch. 79

the female the upper parts are darker, practically
black, mottled with gray and rufous, and the under
parts are chestnut-buff barred with dark - brown.
This plumage prevails during June and July, although
subject to some change by sun and abrasion, whilst
towards the end of the latter month signs of the
autumn livery begin to be apparent. In this dress
again the sexes are similar, as we might naturally
expect to be the case, now that the breeding season
is over, and both male and female are exposed to
the same conditions of life. The upper parts, the
breast and flanks, are gray, vermiculated with black.
By the end of August this autumn dress is fully
attained. It is worn for nearly a couple of months,
subject of course to some change from abrasion and
sun. Then comes the transition to the white winter
plumage, which in most cases becomes complete by
the middle of November contemporaneously with
the snow that lies upon the mountains for the next
three months or more. This beautiful arrangement
of nature becomes even more impressive by certain
comparisons. For instance, the Red Grouse, living
as it does amongst the ling and _ heath, and ‘in, a
region where snow seldom covers the ground for
many days at a time, retains a brown dress through-
out the year; in this species also the flight feathers
are constantly brown in hue, just as those of the
Ptarmigan are white. But the nearest ally of the

So Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Red Grouse, the Willow Grouse (the Lagopus albus
of ornithologists), inhabiting the tundras of the
arctic regions right round the world, assumes a pure
white plumage for the winter (readily distinguished,
by the way, from the Ptarmigan by the absence of
the black patch before the eye), and in this case
again the flight feathers are constantly white —a
dress that is admirably protective amidst the winter
snows of its northern home. Here, then, we have
two birds distantly related, like the Ptarmigan and
the Willow Grouse, donning white plumage in winter
for protection, whilst the Red Grouse, so closely
allied to the Willow Grouse, and resembling it in
many details of its economy, remains practically the
same in appearance summer and winter alike. The
retention of the white quills is a very interesting
fact. These Grouse moult their flight feathers but
once in the year, in autumn; and probably the reason
they are constantly white is because this tint is no
disadvantage to the species, being always concealed
except during flight. As we know, these birds take
wing most reluctantly, always endeavouring to elude
observation by crouching close to the ground.
Similarly, the central tail-feathers of the Wiaullow
Grouse and Ptarmigan are the only ones that change
varying from white in

in colour with the seasons
winter to brown marked with gray and buff in
summer, and gray mottled with black in autumn—

On Mountain and Loch. 81

the remainder being constantly black, and when the
tail is closed of course concealed by the central pair.

Ptarmigan are nothing near such noisy birds as
Red Grouse, and their usual note is a hoarse and
guttural croak. Otherwise there is much in their
economy of general resemblance. They pair in
spring, make a scanty nest upon the ground, and
their eggs very closely resemble those of the more
familiar species, but the markings are larger and not
so heavily dispersed—characters that are in perfect
harmony with the different nature of the ground
upon which they rest. The eggs are generally laid
in May. Then again we remark the same tendency
to flock in autumn, as in the Red Grouse. As pre-
viously remarked, this single species practically ex-
hausts the resident avifauna of the mountain heights.
There are a few other species still to be noticed, but
none of them are confined to these localities, although
they may be met with in them at any season. Some
of these birds are migratory, others wander about
visiting lower ground, and are therefore in no sense
permanently indigenous to the mountain tops, or
even to their lower slopes.

Dealing with the resident species first, we have
the two species of British Eagles that in spite of
persecution have managed to retain their place in
our avifauna. They owe their survival most pro-

bably to the inaccessibility of their haunts. Time

(M618 ) I

82 Among the Birds 1n Northern Shires.

was when the Golden Eagle frequented the Peak
district of Derbyshire, and when the White-tailed
Eagle regularly bred in the area of the English
Lakes and even in the Isle of Man; whilst farther
south still we find records of its nest in Lundy
Island and the Isle of Wight. Persecution has
succeeded in exterminating these Eagles in all such
lowland haunts; even the South of Scotland has
proved no safer refuge, and at the present day the
mountains of the north are the sole locality in which
they are normally found. We can vividly recall our
first meeting with the Golden Eagle. We had spent
many days amongst the Highlands in fruitless quest
of this fine bird, but all that rewarded us were a few
heads and feet, time-worn and ancient, nailed here
and there to some stable or kennel-door of a game-
keeper’s premises, and any number of tales told by
shepherds and keepers of how the species had been
shot and trapped without mercy. At last our search
was rewarded by the discovery of an eyrie in a mag-
nificent cliff. We shall never forget how we watched
the big black bird soar out of the rocks and circle
overhead, and how we stood gazing in admiration as
it swept down from the air towards its nest, with its
mighty wings held up and expanded to their utmost,
just as we had often seen the Kestrel do, or tame
Pigeons, to give a more familiar instance. We have
seen a good many Eagles—of both species—since

On Mountain and Loch. 33

that eventful morning nearly twenty years ago, but
never with such excitement as then. We are glad
to say that the Golden Eagle in one or two localities
seems to be increasing. This is specially the case
in certain deer forests, where the bird is held (and
justly so) to be harmless. There is, however, plenty
of room left for the preservation of this fine bird, and
we should like to see the placing of poisoned meat
made illegal. The White-tailed Eagle is perhaps the
most familiar species of the two, but this bird loves
the hills near the sea, and its favourite resorts at the
present time are amongst the grand mountain scenery
of the Hebrides, the Orkneys and Shetland. We
have often watched the magnificent aerial movements
of this Eagle from the mountain tops in the haunt of
the Ptarmigan and the blue hare. Like the larger
Gulls and the Vultures, it will remain in the highest
air for long periods, sailing round and round in
spacious circles, ever and anon gliding obliquely
down, then resuming its ordinary flight. We often
used to meet with it high up the hills in Skye, a dis-
trict which we believe still continues famous for this
Eagle, and we knew of several nests or eyries scat-
tered over the island. Both these eagles breed very
early in the year, long before the ordinary stream of
tourists flows northwards; but this, we regret to say,
does not prevent many an eyrie being robbed of its
eggs by shepherds and others, in the pay of the

S4. Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

collector or dealer from the south. ‘The last pair of
Scotch Golden Eagles’ eggs that we examined had
been forwarded unblown from the Highlands, roughly
packed in a tin box, and both were broken. One of
these eggs, we believe, is now in the Weston Park
Museum at Sheffield. Eagles are somewhat slug-
gish birds, resembling Buzzards in disposition, and
exhibit none of that dash and activity characteristic
of the Falcons, or even of the short-winged Hawks.
They are also very unclean feeders, being little better
than Vultures in this respect. Of the two the White-
tailed Eagle is the-worst; he is a regular scavenger
of the shore, and in not a few cases we have known
him lured to his doom with a mass of stinking offal,
a putrid lamb, or decaying fish. Healthy vigorous
birds or animals are seldom attacked by this Eagle;
it confines its attentions to the weakly and the
wounded creatures that cannot move fast or offer
any serious resistance. The Golden Eagle is a trifle
more fastidious in its selection of food, and frequently
captures living and healthy creatures, such as Grouse
and hares, but even he does not refuse to make a
meal on carrion. When we take into consideration
the food and the sluggish habits of these Eagles, we
are at a still greater loss to understand the ruthless
war of extermination that has been waged against
them for so long. As birds of prey go they are
comparatively harmless, and should be left in peace.

On Mountain and Loch. 85

We have heard a good deal about the destruction of
newly-dropped lambs by these Eagles, but there is
much to be said on the other side. Lambs at this
early age are liable to many fatalities, and it is
scarcely fair to attribute their disappearance to the
Eagles. Many lambs are drowned or killed by
storms, and by accidental falls over rocks and cliffs:
their bodies offer a welcome meal to the Eagles.
Some of these fatalities are due to the carelessness
of shepherds and keepers, who take good care that
the sheep farmer shall be made to believe that Eagles
are responsible for them. Many years ago we were
up the hills with a keeper and his dog. The latter
a wild unruly brute of a retriever—chased a lamb,

and knocked it over a steep bank into a mountain
loch. We recovered the body, and then the keeper
with a sly look informed me that he should tell so
and so that the loss of this lamb was due to an Eagle!
It is the tale of the lowland coverts over again.
There a scarcity of game is attributed to poachers or
vermin, whilst in reality a dishonest keeper has dis-
posed of it to an equally dishonest dealer. In the
Highlands the loss of Grouse and lambs and deer
calves is too often laid to the Eagles’ charge, but let
us hope that such a custom will cease, and that these
beautiful birds will duly profit by the circumstance.
Another raptorial bird by no means unfrequently
met with on the mountains is the Peregrine. In

86 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

some parts of the Highlands this Falcon may be
found breeding on the face of some towering storr
rock amongst the frowning hills. We had an in-
teresting experience of such a nest on the lofty storr
at Talisker, in Skye. This charming little spot
nestles in a hollow in the hills, is surrounded by
trees of goodly growth and a wealth of other vege-
tation—literally an oasis among bare mountains and
upland moors. We used to sit out in the garden
and grounds there and watch the Peregrines about
their nest, which was situated in a gaping fissure
perhaps two-thirds of the distance up the face of the
cliff A pair of Ravens also had their nest in the
same rock, together with numbers of Jackdaws and
Starlings. Whether the Peregrines respected the
lives of their more weakly neighbours we cannot
say, but the Ravens oft resented the near approach
of these Falcons, sallying out from the cliffs and
buffeting them in mid-air. Time after time we
watched these Falcons dart down from the higher
air with both wings closed and enter the fissure
which contained their nest. The late Mr. Cameron,
then residing at Talisker, informed me that these
Peregrines had frequented the rocks here for many
years, notwithstanding the fact that their eggs or
young were taken every season. At such a vast
height the Peregrines looked no bigger than Jack-
daws, whilst the latter birds resembled Starlings

On Mountain and Loch. 87

flying to an fro before the rugged cliff. The Raven,
we are glad to say, is a familiar bird still among the
mountains of the north. The time has gone for
ever when we could number this fine species as a
denizen of the mountains of the Peak and some
other English uplands, although we have heard that
it still nests amongst the hills of the Lake district.
The hoarse croak of the Raven is one of the most
familiar bird- notes heard among the Highlands.
Notwithstanding gun, trap, and poison, the bird
somehow or another still maintains its position;
possibly its excessive cunning and wariness are the
chief means of its salvation. This bird is one of the
few species indigenous to both the north and south
of England that is still commonest in some of the
southern shires. In Devonshire, especially, it is by
no means uncommon, both on the central plateau of
Dartmoor as well as along the rock-bound coasts.
Indeed, until within the past few years it used to
breed within a mile or so of Torquay. We own to
a special weakness for the Raven notwithstanding
his questionable means of getting a livelihood. He
has been our sole companion in many a rocky glen,
and cheered us by his wicked croaking on many a
lonely ramble over the wild hills of the north. We
specially recall his lively ways at St. Kilda, when
of an evening we used to wander up the heights of
Connacher to watch the Fulmars and admire the

88 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

glorious sunsets that canopied the lonely Atlantic.
We can also remember how we were cheered by his
croak when wandering, lost and hungry and tired
out, across the mountain heaths enshrouded in a
dense mist between Sligachan and Talisker, just as
night was falling, and when, after making up our
mind for a night on the hills, we had the good
fortune to meet with a shepherd and obtain from
him our bearings. For a northern bird the Raven
is another early breeder; and it is interesting to
remark that there is very little difference between
the date of nesting in the extreme south of England
and the Highlands, March being the month in both
areas. In the Highlands, Ravens’ nests are invari-
ably destroyed whenever they are accessible; but
fortunately the wily birds, in not a few localities,
select fissures and rock ledges quite inaccessible
save to a winged enemy. A dead sheep or other
animal will almost without fail attract Ravens from
a large area, and we have on one occasion counted
no less than seven on such a carcass, sharing the
prize with the Hooded Crow. A keeper friend of
ours informed us of a much larger congregation at
the body of a dead horse, the birds in time picking
the bones of every scrap of flesh. Speaking of
Ravens brings us of course to a passing notice of the
Hooded Crow. In England we have plenty of
Hooded Crows during autumn and winter, especially

On Mountain and Loch. 89

in the eastern counties, but they do not breed in the
country (if we except possibly the Isle of Man). In
the Highlands, however, the bird is a resident pest
—like the poor, always with us, and, sad to relate,
as little welcome. Amongst the mountains of the
north, especially in the littoral districts, the Hooded
Crow is certainly the commonest bird of the Crow
tribe. He practically replaces the Carrion Crow,
the familiar species of the southern shires. These
Hooded Crows are wary birds; they need to be,
or their race would soon be exterminated in Scot-
land. But for downright impudence and cunning
commend us to the Hooded Crows of St. Kilda.
These gray-coated rascals would allow us repeatedly
to approach them within a few paces; indeed, they
would sometimes allow us almost to kick them out
of our way, as the saying goes; but this was only as
long as we did not carry a gun. Had we such a
weapon with us the crafty fellows would invariably
keep at a safe distance. This was all the more re-
markable, for at the time of our visit and stay on
St. Kilda, in 1884, there was not a gun on the island
except the one we carried, so that the birds could
not have been taught to shun such an object by
experience. We might attempt an explanation of
the fact by suggesting that the birds became sus-
picious when they saw a person carrying an un-
familiar object; but against this we have the behaviour

90 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

of birds in other localities where guns are common,
being no more wary than these unsophisticated crows
of St. Kilda. The St. Kildans detest them, and
with good cause, for they commit sad havoc amongst
their fields and gardens, and are as keen “collectors”
of eggs as the men themselves. The Hooded Crow
is a far more sociable bird than the Carrion Crow,
and we have remarked them gregarious at all times
of the year. In winter, of course, they become
most so, and nowhere is this trait more apparent
than in the low-lying English counties. We shall
have occasion to meet with this interesting bird in a
future chapter (conf. p. 276). This brief list practi-
cally exhausts the typical land birds and Passeres of
the mountains, with the sole exception of the charm-
ing little Snow Bunting. In not a few northern
English shires this species is a fairly well-known
winter migrant, but it breeds sparingly on some of
the Scottish mountains, a few pairs finding an
arctic climate by vertical instead of latitudinal migra-
tion, but most of its kindred journey far beyond our
limits to rear their young.

Our last mountain bird is the Dotterel. But this
is a bird of passage from the south, resorting only to
the northern heights during summer. Unfortunately,

olish moun-

>

the species is not so common on our En
tains as was formerly the case; its eggs are eagerly
sought by collectors; the bird itself is in great re-

On Mountain and Loch. gl

quest for its feathers, which are used to make trout
and salmon flies. Although becoming rarer, it still

breeds on some of the mountains of Cumberland;

The Dotterel.

whilst across the Border it is more numerous, and
we believe regularly nests on the Grampians and in
a few other places. It is late to arrive on these
mountains in spring, as might naturally be inferred,
when we bear in mind their bleak and barren char-
acter, reaching them in May, and quitting them in
September. We have seen eggs of the Dotterel
that had been taken on the Cumberland mountains

92 Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

in June. It would seem that the birds do not retire
to the elevated nesting-grounds directly they arrive,
but frequent the more lowland fields for a week or
so ere ascending to them. The summer home of
the Dotterel is shared, in some instances at least,
with that still more mountain bird, the Ptarmigan.
The Dotterel is one of the very few species in which
the hen bird is larger and more brightly coloured
than the cock, and the latter consequently incubates
the eggs and takes the greater share in the task of
rearing the young. The hen is even said to take
the initiative in courtship, but we have yet to learn
that the ‘‘new woman” has quoted the fact in sup-
port of her advanced opinions! But then the Dotterel
is widely known by the accompanying and preceding
epithet of “foolish”, and its English name is said to
be the diminutive of “ Dolt”; whilst its Latin name
of morenellus is said by some to have been derived
from worvus, a fool—facts which those interested in

d

so-called ‘sex problems” will also do well to bear in
mind.

Now a few words respecting the bird-life of the
lochs. These lochs, so far as the present chapter is
concerned, may be divided into two distinct classes.
First, we have the mountain pools—sheets of water
of varying size, often at considerable elevations,
situated in hollows among the hills, and an especial

feature of many districts in the Highlands. Second,

On Mountain and Loch. 93

we have at sea-level the marine lochs or fiords,
another almost exclusive Scottish feature, the nearest
approach to them, so far as our Experience extends,
being some of the charming land-locked rivers or
fiords in the south-west of England. Some few of
the birds that we meet with on or about these lochs
may be seen in many a southern shire at one season
or another, but on the other hand there is a predomi-
nating number of species that stamps the avifauna of
these northern localities with distinctness. Many of
these lochs are grandly picturesque, surrounded as
they are with lofty mountains and rolling uplands;
their solitude in not a few cases is intense. No
wonder that some of our shyest birds resort to them,
especially as they present the additional attraction
of abundance of food. Upon the shores of some
of them we have come across the rare Greenshank;
on others in the Hebrides the Red-necked Phala-
rope (gentlest and most trustful of all wading birds)
lives in colonies during the summer. From time
to time the various Plovers and Sandpipers resort
to their shallow margin, coming there to feed from
nesting-places on the moors. Now and then in
certain favoured spots the shadow of the Osprey
—rarest, perhaps, of all our indigenous birds of
prey—is reflected in the calm unruffled water as the
bird soars over, and perhaps drops down upon some
surface-floating fish. Our first introduction to the

94 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Osprey took place nearly twenty years ago in
Ross-shire, at the head of Loch Carron. We had
been kept rain-bound for a couple of days in the
hotel at Strome Ferry, and a most miserable and
depressing time we had of it, the surrounding hills
hidden by clouds and the surface of the loch churned
into foam by the incessant downpour. The second
evening the weather cleared, and we started off for
a long ramble along the loch-side; the sun shone
out brilliantly, and began to dispel the caps of clouds
hanging on the hills. The most abundant bird on
the loch was the Common Gull, respecting which we
shall have more to say on a future page. We saw
several pairs of Redshanks near the swollen streams,
many Plovers in the distance, a few Dippers, Com-
mon Sandpipers, and Mergansers. But the bird that
interested us most was an Osprey, flying slowly over
the loch about thirty feet above the water. It was
hovering with quivering wings, the head almost
hidden as the bird peered down in quest of prey.
Every few moments the bird flapped its long wings
as if to steady itself and gain fresh momentum for its
flight. For some time we watched it hovering above
the shallow water close inshore, and then it poised
for a moment and dropped like a stone into the loch,
the noise of its plunge being distinctly audible more
than a quarter of a mile away. It rose in a few
seconds, and then, after hovering a short time, went

On Mountain and Loch. 95

off in a slow laboured flight to a clump of trees, and
we saw it no more. As we previously stated, the
Osprey is one of our rarest raptorial birds. A hun-
dred years ago it is recorded as breeding in the Eng-
lish Lake district, whilst at a still more distant date
it is known to have nested on the south coast of
England. Although more than once thought by
competent observers to have become absolutely ex-
tinct as a breeding species in the British Islands, the
bird still lingers on and returns to nest in one or two
places in Scotland, the exact location of which its
best friends will desire to remain unpublished. Un-
fortunately, the Osprey is a summer migrant to our
area, and the poor birds in travelling to and from
their Highland haunts are exposed to much perse-
cution. A favourite situation for the eyrie of this
bird is an island in some secluded loch amongst the
mountains, and in some cases a ruin of some ancient
chieftain’s stronghold supports the nest. There is
no more harmless bird of prey in Scotland, for its
food is composed exclusively of fish.

The birds of these mountain lochs are all migra-
tory, visiting them chiefly in summer for the purpose
of rearing their young; whilst a few, chiefly Ducks,
may be met with in their vicinity during open weather
in winter. Of course these remarks apply only to
the fresh-water lochs amongst the hills; the sea-
water lochs have a perennial supply of birds, because

96 Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

they are never completely ice-bound in our islands,
and furnish an abundance of food all the year round.
Among the most characteristic of the birds of these
hill lochs we may mention the Divers. Of these
there are two species that breed near them, one of

|. The Red-breasted Merganser. 2, The Black-throated Diver.

them, however, the Red-throated Diver, being much
commoner than the other, the Black-throated Diver.
These birds are more or less migratory, and are only
to be found upon fresh-water lochs during summer.
In winter they retire to the coasts, where the open
sea ensures a constant food supply, and then wander
far south of their breeding area. Possibly there
are few other districts in the world more depressing

On Mountain and Loch. 97

in continued wet weather than the Hebrides—a wild
savage land of rock and loch and ling surrounded
by stormy seas, and only too often shrouded in gray
mist. During such weather the cries of the Divers
from the upland lochs sound more uncanny and
melancholy than ever—oft-repeated wails or screams,
compared with which we should describe the noc-
turnal lament of a tom-cat musical; and even more
impressive and unearthly do they become when
uttered during the few hours of darkness that char-
acterize the night in summer in these northern
lands. These cries have irritated us too often for
us to say that we love them; still, they are not
without a certain charm, imbuing as they often do
with life scenes where solitude otherwise reigns
supreme. Both these Divers rarely visit the land
except to breed; they are clumsy birds out of the
water, but in that element are as much at home
as the fish themselves. They fly well and rapidly,
and are perhaps more frequently seen in the air than
standing on the ground. Both species may be found
nesting on the lochs of the Outer Hebrides. The
nests are never made far from the water; in fact, we
have seen the eggs so close to the margin of the loch
that the least rise in the water

a frequent occur-
rence in such wet districts—must have washed them
away. In these cases there can be little doubt that

the birds removed them to a safer distance when
(™ 618 ) G

98 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

they were threatened with such a danger. A
favourite locality is on some small islet in the loch.
In some cases little or no nest is made, but in others
a substantial structure of grass, weeds, and stalks of
plants is formed. Very often the nest may be dis-
covered by the path the old birds make in going to
and from the water. The two eggs are much like
those of a Gull in colour, but are very elongated.
There can be little doubt that both these Divers
consume a vast number of trout in the course of a
summer. But the supply of fish is almost inex-
haustible; we know lochs that literally teem with
trout. The fish, however, are very small and
scarcely worthy of the angler’s attention.

The Mallard or Wild Duck is another very com-
mon bird on these mountain lochs during summer,
especially on those that contain islands. Some of
these latter are clothed with a dense growth of
heath and gorse, and in such localities we have
known several nests within a radius of a few yards.
But the Wild Duck is one of the most cosmopolitan
of our indigenous birds, breeding almost as com-
monly in the extreme south of England amidst
pastoral surroundings, as in the Highlands where
its solitude is seldom distufbed save by a wandering
keeper or shepherd. Its nest, however, varies con-
siderably; neither is water essential to its location.
We have seen its nest amongst the bracken, far

On Mountain and Loch. 99

from water, in the open parts of Sherwood Forest,
we have taken it from the rushes near a stagnant
lowland pool, as well as from the knee-deep ling, the
bare ground on the hillsides, and the bramble-covered
banks of river and stream. Some nests are made of
little else than down from the female’s body, others
are much more elaborately constructed of almost
any kind of vegetation growing near. We may also
mention that this Duck breeds in some numbers near
most of the tarns and pools of the moorlands from
the Peak district northwards. Here and there in the
more remote Highlands—Caithness, Sutherlandshire,
and Ross-shire—a few pairs of Scoters frequent the
mountain lochs. The Teal, on the other hand, is a
much commoner species in these localities, whilst the
Red-breasted Merganser is even of wider distribu-
tion still throughout the Highlands. We cannot well
leave these fresh-water lochs without a passing glance
at the Red-necked Phalarope. This again is a mi-
gratory species which arrives at the mountain pools in
May. Its favourite haunts are the clear tarns sur-
rounded with rushes and sphagnum on the moors, at
no great distance from the sea. So far as we know,
this Phalarope nests on no part of the British main-
land now; its summer resorts are in the Outer Heb-
rides, in Orkney and Shetland. To these pools the
birds return each summer with unfailing regularity.
Their gregarious habits very largely increase their

100 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

charm and interest. We know of few, if any, birds
more trustful and tame. When their breeding-place
is approached the pretty little birds either run or fly
to the neighbouring pool and there swim about in
the most unsuspicious and confiding manner, utterly
regardless of danger. They make their slight nests
on the banks of the water, and lay four very pretty
eggs, olive or buff in ground colour, heavily marked
with dark brown, paler brown, and gray. Here again
we have another instance in which the hen Phalarope
is more brilliant in colour than the cock bird, and not
only takes the initiative in courtship, but leaves the
care of the eggs and young chiefly to him. Possibly
the females of these birds and Dotterels hold strongly
advanced views on the question of sex and its rights
and privileges; anyway, they must be ranked amongst
the very few female creatures that have partially suc-
ceeded in emancipating themselves from the ordinary
duties of their sex. Perhaps in the remote future the
principle will universally apply to civilized man him-
self, for there are not wanting signs of this sexual
evolution towards such emancipation.

We will bring the present chapter to a close with a
brief notice of the bird-life to be met with on the sea-
lochs. Many a charming essay on ornithology is
reflected in their clear waters; many a page from
the story of our native birds is graven along their
rocky shores. We have had the good fortune to

On Mountatn and Loch. IOI

explore not a few of these charming Highland fiords,
to dwell beside them for weeks at a time, and thus
become familiar with the birds upon them and with
their most engaging ways. One of the most familiar
birds of these Highland lochs is the Red-breasted
Merganser, known throughout these localities as the
“Sawbill” (conf. p. 96). The drake is a very pretty
bird, the duck more soberly arrayed, yet both easily
identified by their long narrow bill. They are generally
met with in pairs during summer, and their actions
in the water furnish us with many an hour’s amuse-
ment. This Merganser is a most expert diver, and
every few moments either one or the other of the pair
disappears in quest of food. Rarely or never do
both birds dive at the same time, one always keep-
ing on the surface as if on the look-out. Sometimes,
however, the birds will suddenly commence to chase
each other through the water in sportive play, and
then both may dive, churning the water into foam.
When fishing, the birds frequently, after diving, stand
erect in the water and flap their wings vigorously for
a few moments. These birds are very regular in
their movements, especially on tidal water, and we
have frequently remarked how they would visit cer-
tain spots to feed at low water, flying up at great
speed from different parts of the loch, their wings
making a peculiar whistling sound as they hurried
along. Sometimes they may be seen standing on

102 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

some low, sea-surrounded rock basking in the sun
and digesting their meal. Each pair of birds seem
attached to a certain locality, and may be found in it
from day to day right through the breeding season.
We have taken many nests of this Merganser, and
invariably found them made on islands in the lochs.
In not a few instances the first eggs are laid on the
bare earth, usually under the shelter of a rock, or ina
hollow amongst the gorse or ling close to the water’s
edge. These eggs eventually become surrounded
with down plucked from the female’s body, but be-
fore this is arranged, when there are but one or two
laid, they are left bare and uncovered. The much
rarer Goosander may occasionally be met with on
these Highland sea-lochs, especially in the Outer
Hebrides. Other birds of the Duck tribe that fre-
quent these lochs and the islands in them are the
Sheldrake and the Eider.

Needless to remark, these lochs are favourite haunts
of Gulls and Terns. Of the former the most inter-
esting, perhaps, is the Common Gull, a species that
has no English breeding-place, yet in some of these
northern fiords it nests in abundance. — In this case
again islands are invariably selected if any are to be
had. This Gull we found nesting in large numbers
in Loch Follart in Skye, but owing to the relentless
way in which its eggs were taken we should presume
that it has now become much scarcer. Then on the

On Mountain and Loch. 103

islands again we may meet with colonies of Arctic
Terns. These graceful birds are quite a summer
feature of the lochs, their airy movements as they
fish just off the shore being highly interesting. The
Common Tern is much more local, and yet there are
not a few colonies scattered up and down these lochs
amongst the Hebrides, at least as far north as Skye.
Of the Terns we shall have more to say in a later
chapter (conf. p. 221). Where the cliffs are steep by the
loch-side, in not a few of these northern waters, we
shall be sure to find the Black Guillemot, a bird, as
its name indicates, almost uniform black in colour
(during summer), with white wing-bars and coral-red
legs and bill. This bird is never seen in such num-
bers together as the better-known and larger Common
Guillemot; rather is it found in scattered pairs, fish-
ing close inshore where the rocks fall sheer down
into deep water. Its habits, however, are very
similar; it dives with the same agility, feeds on
fry, crustaceans, and small shell-fish, and is just as
thoroughly marine in its tastes. We must note,
however, one important difference, and that con-
cerning its nesting economy. Like the Razor-bill,
it breeds in holes and fissures of the rocks, makes
no nest, and its eggs are very similar to those of the
latter species but much smaller, and two in number.
As most readers may be aware, the Guillemot and
the Razor-bill are content to lay one only. Both

104 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

these latter birds may be met with swimming about
the marine lochs, and there are many colonies of
them scattered about the Hebrides. These we hope
to notice in greater detail in our chapter devoted to
the bird-life of the ocean cliffs (conf. p. 240). Of the
wading birds that haunt these lochs mention may be
made of the Oyster-catcher and the Ringed Plover.
The former bird is one of the noisiest to be found in
such localities, especially when its nesting-places are
invaded by man. It loves the stretches of shingly
beach, laying its three eggs just above high-water
mark on the line of drifted weed and rubbish that
marks the limits of spring-tide. Its so-called “nest” is
worthy of special examination, the shells and pebbles
often being arranged very systematically round the
eggs. Other nest there is none, but in most cases a
number of sham or empty “nests” or hollows in the
shingle will be found close to the one that contains
the eggs. Many of these birds wander far south-
wards from these northern lochs during winter, and
at that season are found in localities which they just
as regularly leave as spring returns.

COAR TER] Lv.

ON HEATHS AND MARSHES.

HE title of the present chapter, to some readers,
may seem rather a misnomer, especially the

first portion of it. We have already made a brief
survey of bird-life among the heather, but then a
moor is not exactly a heath. For the purpose of
the present volume the definition of the word “ heath”
must be taken to be a small area of uncultivated
ground, covered with bracken, brambles, gorse, and
briars, with patches of heather here and_ there,
studded with stunted trees and bushes, and in not
a few cases surrounded with woods, arable lands,
and pastures. There are many such delightful bits
of waste ground in the northern shires, not only
inland, but at no great distance from the sea. Of
the bogs and marshes we may claim a fair share,
although drainage and reclamation have reduced their
area considerably in not a few cases, or removed
others entirely. The fens of the low-lying eastern
counties—of Norfolk and Suffolk—scarcely come
within our limits, whilst those of Lincolnshire exist
almost only in name. The bird-life of these heaths
and marshes is characteristic and interesting, although

106 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

perhaps there is greater similarity between the species
and those of more southern localities than we have
hitherto found to be the case.

Heaths have always been favourite places of ours.
They are never of such barren and forbidding aspect
as the moorlands, even in mid-winter; vegetation is
more generous; trees, in which we delight, are not
altogether absent; and most important attraction of
all, bird-life in considerable variety may be found
upon and near them throughout the year. Although
many bits of heath known to us have been cleared
and brought into cultivation, there are not a few still
left where birds of various species linger unmolested.
For instance (to indicate but a few), there are such
areas in the Sherwood Forest district; here and
there in north Lincolnshire, in north Derbyshire,
and in south Yorkshire, especially in the vicinity of
Wharncliffe Crags, a few miles north-west of Sheffield.
One of the most interesting birds found upon these
heaths is the Nightjar, or perhaps even better known
by the name of Goatsucker. Like most birds pos-
sessing some peculiarity in note or appearance easily
remarked by the multitude, the present species has
many aliases, some of which at any rate are as un-
deserved as they are disastrous. Thus, that of
“ Night-hawk” brings the bird into evil repute with
ovamekeepers, and it is shot down in many localities
under the firm belief that it preys upon young

On Fleaths and Marshes. ney,

Pheasants and Partridges! That of ‘“ Goatsucker”

is even more widely prevailing, not only in our own

country, but it has an equivalent in almost every
European language, in some cases dating from a

The Nightjar.

very remote antiquity. Needless to say that this
appellation has proved even more fatal, and has
caused the poor bird needless persecution in many
other countries than ours, owing to the absurd super-
stition it describes and fosters of the Nightjar’s
utterly fictitious habit of sucking the teats of cows

108 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

and goats! Lastly, it has been the long-suffering
possessor of the names of “ Fern Owl” or “ Churn
Owl”, one relating to its haunts, the other to its
singular note, and both suggestive of birds that have
been sorely persecuted by man, in most cases for
purely imaginary offences. Anything flying under
the name of ‘‘ Owl”, whether with “ fern”, or “ wood”,
or ‘‘ barn”, or ‘‘ horned” attached, is considered harm-
ful, and fair food for powder and shot, so that the
poor Nightjar has suffered with the rest. To his
habits and appearance most, if not all, his misfor-
tunes are due. He flies about at dusk and during
the night-time, and has a way of flitting round the
cattle in the meadows close to the heath in quest
of moths and cockchafers; his plumage is soft and
pencilled and Owl-like, whilst his enormous mouth,
to the ignorant countryman, seems capable of swallow-
ing anything! And yet there is no more harmless
bird in the British Islands than the Nightjar. It
preys upon no single creature that man might covet
(if perhaps we except the entomologist, who does
not like to see rare moths and beetles disappear like
magic in the evening gloom), but, on the other hand,
rids the fields and groves of countless numbers of
injurious insect pests. Apart from any concrete
injury that it may be thought to do, it also falls
under the ban of the superstitious, its weird and
curious notes, together with its crepuscular habits,

On Heaths and Marshes. 109

being very apt to inspire dread in the credulous
countryfolk, who are firm believers in omens, prognos-
tics, and the like, notwithstanding the unprecedented
extent to which the schoolmaster has been abroad
during the past twenty years or more. We ought
also to mention another name bestowed upon the
Nightjar, and which, like most of the others, has
caused the poor bird not a little senseless persecution.
This is ‘‘ Puckeridge”, a term also applied to a fatal
distemper which often attacks weanling calves. The
Nightjar was thought by the ignorant countryman
to convey this disorder to the calves whilst flitting
about them. Poor little Nightjar! The wonder is
that there are any of its species left to struggle under
such an overwhelming burden of bad names begotten
of superstition and ignorance. In some districts
this bird is known as the “ Eve-jar” or ‘‘ Evening-
jar”, and in others as the ‘ Wheel-bird”—names
innocent enough, suggestive of no ill deeds, but
eminently expressive of its habits and its notes com-
bined. In Devonshire it is known locally as the
“Dor-hawk”, from its habit of catching dor-beetles
or cockchafers; also as the ‘‘ Night-crow”, possibly
the least applicable in the entire series, unless we
interpret it as being derived from the bird’s habit of
calling (crowing) at night. It is possibly a fortunate
thing for the Nightjar that it only spends a few
months out of the twelve in Europe, amongst such

110) ©©Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

a crowd of civilized enemies of all countries and
creeds, finding fewer, if any, human _persecutors
amidst the dusky heathen races of Africa, whither it
retires after visiting us. It is one of our latest birds
of passage, not even reaching the southern parts of
England before the end of April or early May —
a date which is not quite coincident with its arrival
in the northern shires, which it does not reach much
before the middle of the latter month. The life=
history of this pretty and much-maligned bird is
packed full of interest. Unfortunately the Nightjar
is only abroad of its own choice during hours when
darkness renders observation difficult; we must per-
force crowd most of our scrutiny into the twilight
hour, and just before the rising of the sun. The
bird, like the bat and the Owl, sleeps during the
daytime, either crouched flat upon the ground under
the bracken or underwood, or seated lengthwise on
some broad flat branch of a tree where dense foliage
gives the shade and gloom it seeks, and where its
beautifully mottled and vermiculated plumage har-
monizes most closely with surrounding tints. It is
said that the Nightjar sometimes comes abroad during
mid-day, and that it even calls at that time, but such
has never been our experience of this species, and
we should be inclined to think that when seen out
and about at such a time it had been disturbed from
its diurnal resting-place. At the approach of even-

On Heaths and Marshes. i

ing, however, the sleepy bird rouses itself, and, hungry
and alert and active enough, leaves its daytime haunt
and commences its evening peregrinations in quest
of food and enjoyment. As the sun sinks lower
behind the western hills and the shadows intensify,
the Nightjars become more lively. The most im-
pressive thing about them is their curious music.
It is a song that appeals to the most casual listener,
compelling recognition by its very singularity.
Whilst on the wing circling to and fro the note is
an oft-repeated cry, resembling the syllables co-zc,
co-tc, co-2c; but when the bird drops lightly down
on to some wall or fence or gate, another and still
more curious sound is produced. This is the familiar
“churring” or vibrating noise, long continued, and
putting one in mind of the monotonous reel of the
Grasshopper Warbler, so far as its pertinacity is
concerned. This latter noise is never heard unless
the bird is sitting. The bird also makes another
sound whilst in the air, produced by striking its
wings smartly together; otherwise the flight of this
species is remarkably silent and Owl-like. It is by
no means shy, and will hawk for insects round our
head, dart to and fro on noiseless pinions, or circle
about in chasing and toying with its mate, with little
show of fear. The wings of the male bird are
marked with three white spots, one on each of the
first three primaries, and these are very conspicuous

112 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

during flight, as are also the white tips to the outer-
most tail-feathers. This even applies to young
males in their first plumage, although the spots are
buff instead of white. It is possible that these mark-
ings are sexual recognition marks, enabling the
female to follow or discover the whereabouts of her
mate in the gloom. The Nightjar breeds in May
or June, a little later in the north than in the south.
It makes no nest, but the hen bird lays her two
curiously oval eggs on the bare ground, sometimes
beneath a spray of bracken or a furze bush, less
frequently on the flat low branch of a convenient
tree. These eggs are very beautiful, and he who
finds them cannot confuse them with those of any
other species that breeds in our islands. They are
generally white and glossy, the surface mottled,
blotched, streaked and veined with various shades
of brown and gray. The young are covered with
down—in this respect showing affinity with the Owls
—but are otherwise helpless, being fed by their
parents not only during infancy, but for some time
after they can fly. The old birds show great solict-
tude for them should they be disturbed, fluttering
round the intruder’s head, and seeking to attract all
attention to themselves. The Nightjar leaves the
northern shires in September for its winter quarters
in Africa, although it is by no means uncommonly
observed quite a month later in the extreme south

On Fleaths and Marshes. 113

and south-west of England. It is said, by the way,
that the Nightjar captures cockchafers with its feet,
and that its serrated middle claw is for this purpose.
But this we have never noticed, although we have
had a life’s experience with the bird, and it seems
more than doubtful when we bear in mind the
extremely short legs and comparatively weak feet of
this species—so unlike those of the Kestrel, which
we know frequently catches these insects with its
feet. But we have lingered too long already with
the Nightjar, and must pass on to a notice of other
birds upon the heath. The unusual interest attach-
ing to it must be our sole excuse.

Another very interesting little bird not unfre-
quently met with upon the heaths, especially those
where the soil is sandy and trees are numerous
around them, is the Wood-lark. Unfortunately
the bird-catcher has literally exterminated this species
in not a few localities, the bird’s lovely song being
the attraction. Here we havea species that becomes
rarer and more local in the northern shires than
it is farther south. The Wood-lark is not only a
most industrious and persistent singer, but is almost
a perennial one. That is to say, in the south; up
here amongst the northern shires it seldom warbles
during winter, unless tempted into voice by excep-
tionally mild weather. Its regular breeding song is

not resumed so early in the year up here, and we
(™ 618 ) i

114. Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

should say there isa month or more between the nest-
ing season in north and south respectively. We have
known of Devonshire nests as early as March, of
Nottingham ones as late as May. Possibly this Lark
is only double-brooded in the more southern portions
of its British range. The birds seem much attached
to certain spots, and, like the Tree Pipit, seldom
wander far from their nesting grounds throughout
the breeding season. Unlike the Sky-lark, which
very exceptionally indeed perches upon a bush or a
tree, the Wood-lark may be constantly seen high up
the branches. Indeed, like the Tree Pipit, the cock
bird selects some favourite branch, and here early
and late he sits, and ever and anon flies out and
upwards to warble his rich and joyous song. There
are those who maintain that the song of the Wood-
lark is even superior to that of the Sky-lark. It
may be to some extent a matter of taste, and possibly
they are right; but on the other hand the song of
the Sky-lark is far better known, more popular with
the multitude, and we always thinks it seems more
cheerful, as it certainly is somewhat louder. The
Wood-lark has more flute-like music in his voice,
more melody, and even more continuity. There are
not a few persons that confuse the two birds to-
gether, although the Wood-lark may be readily dis-

tinguished by its short tail, more rounded wing, and

>?)

its habit of perching in trees. One has only to

On FHleaths and Marshes. PDS

watch the aerial songster long enough to notice the
latter peculiarity without fail. When once the bird
has been surely identified, the difference between
the songs of the two species will soon be impressed
upon the listener, even though the species until
then had been unfamiliar to him. The bird will
also warble just as sweetly and just as continuously
not only whilst sitting on the branches, but when
standing on the ground. We may also mention
that the Wood-lark is not so aerial as the commoner
species, never ascending to such vast elevations
during the course of its song. This Lark becomes
gregarious in autumn like most, if not all, its con-
geners, and then wanders more or less from its
native heath. It builds an unassuming little nest
upon the ground, usually under the shadow of some
bush or inequality of the turf, composed of dry
grass and lined with hair. In this it lays four or
five eggs, the markings on them being more distinct
and scattered than is the case with those of the
Sky-lark. The latter species is by no means an
uncommon one upon the heaths, but after what we
have already said there need be no confusion between
the two.

There are various other Passerine birds to be
found in these localities, due attention being given
to the predominant vegetation. The silvery-throated
White-throat is a regular visitor each spring-time to

116 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

the thickets of briar and bramble; the Grasshopper
Warbler may be heard where the vegetation is most
tangled, reeling off his seemingly interminable chirp-
ing song, if in reality it is worthy of such a name
in the company of so many more sweet-voiced
choristers. The Stonechat, gay in his black-and-
white and chestnut livery, perches on the topmost
sprays of the cruel-thorned gorse and eyes us sus-
piciously, with a flicking tail and a harsh tac of
welcome or resentment. The equally beautiful
Linnet, with swollen carmine breast, bears him
company amongst the gorse; whilst the Yellow
Bunting may not unfrequently be noticed crying
his few monotonous notes time after time, and as
often answered by some rival near at hand, both
of them perched as high as possible on the stunted
thorns or the silver-barked birches. All through
the early summer the cheery notes of the Cuckoo
(not a Passere, by the way) are a familiar sound on
or near these heaths, and now and then the blue-
eray bird himself, looking all wings and tail, may be
seen skimming across to the distant belt of trees,
or his mate may be watched poking about the
thickets in a suspicious sort of way seeking some
unprotected nest in which to drop her alien egg.
One bird, however, we miss from these northern
heaths in particular, and that is the Dartford
Warbler. He seldom penetrates as far north as

On Fleaths and Marshes. iO

Yorkshire, although we have taken his nest in a
gorse covert within a few miles of Sheffield. But
that was long ago, and, truth to tell, we failed to
recognize the importance of our discovery for years
afterwards, and when nest and eggs had been lost.
This Warbler is said to breed in Derbyshire, but
we have had no experience of it in that county. It
is interesting to remark that the species appears
first to have been made known to science from a
pair that were shot on a Kentish heath near Dart-
ford, a century and a quarter ago. Few other British
birds have, therefore, a more unassailable right to
their trivial name.

That curious bird the Stone Curlew, perhaps
equally as well known as the “ Thick-knee”, is to
be found on certain heaths as far northwards as
Yorkshire. It becomes more numerous possibly in
Lincolnshire, and thence it is generally dispersed over
Norfolk and Suffolk and most of the “home counties ”.
Owing to drainage, the haunts of this bird have
become much more restricted than formerly, and in
not a few localities it has been exterminated com-
pletely. It loves the more open and bare heath-
lands, especially such as are interspersed with
stony and chalky ground and free from trees and
brushwood, for cover is in no way essential to its
requirements. It derives safety in another way.
Its plumage of mottled brown is eminently protective

118 Among the Birds wn Northern Shires.

on these chalky heaths, and when alarmed, if it does
not take wing, it quietly crouches flat to the ground,
extending its neck and head, which are also pressed

The Stone Curlew.

close to the soil, and there, perfectly motionless, it
awaits until danger is past, or until it is almost
trodden under foot, when it is reluctantly compelled
to disclose itself. The Stone Curlew is known
by various local names, all more or less expressive
of some of its characteristics or relating to the

On Fleaths and Marshes. 119

haunts it affects. That of Stone Curlew probably
refers to the stony haunt and the very Curlew-like
appearance of the bird itself; whilst those of Norfolk
Plover and Stone Plover are indicative of a favourite
resort of the species in England and a more correct
determination of its affinities, for there can be no
doubt that the bird is more closely allied to the
Charadriine than to the Scolopacinee. Less happily
the bird has been called the ‘ Thick-knee”’ because
of the peculiar enlargement of the tibio-tarsal joint,
but this is not the ‘‘ knee” in an anatomical sense,
but analogous to the ankle-joint in man. With
more propriety, therefore, if with less euphony, the
bird should be termed a “ Thick-ankle”’, or a “‘ Thick-
heel”. Lastly, it is known to some as the ‘ Thick-
kneed Plover” or ‘‘Thick-kneed Bustard”. In
this latter case popular judgment is to some extent
supported by anatomical facts, for the Stone Curlew
is by no means distantly related to the Bustards,
certainly more nearly than to the Curlews. It is
rather a remarkable fact that the Stone Curlew is a
migratory bird, when we bear in mind that on both
shores of the Mediterranean it is a sedentary species,
and that its food—worms, snails, beetles, frogs, and
mice—might be obtained in sufficient abundance
in England throughout the winter. In fact, there
are many instances on record of this bird passing
the winter in England, although we should scarcely

120 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

feel disposed to class these individuals as indigenous
to our country, but rather as lost and wandering
birds from continental localities. Be all this as it
may, the Stone Curlew visits us in spring to breed,
arriving in April, and returns south in autumn,
leaving in October. Its large eyes (bright yellow
in colour) betoken it to be a nocturnal bird, and
during the night it obtains most of its food. It
then often wanders far from its dry parched native
heath, and visits more marshy spots, especially
arable lands and wet meadows; sometimes lingering,
both in going and returning, to fly about the air
uttering its loud and plaintive cry. The Stone
Curlew seems to be fully alive to the fact that the
safest hiding-place is often the most conspicuous
and open one. In this matter it resembles the
Missel-thrush, which often builds in safety its bulky
nest in such an exposed spot that we marvel after-
wards (when the young are fledged and gone) how
it could have escaped notice. Acting on_ this
principle the Stone Curlew, in May or June, lays
its two eggs side by side upon the barest of ground,
and where their tints and markings so closely re-
semble the yellow stones and pebbles scattered
around them that discovery is extremely difficult.
The sitting bird renders the deception more com-
plete by running from the eggs at the least alarm
and leaving them to that almost perfect safety that

On Fleaths and Marshes. 121

their protective colours ensure. These eggs are buff
in ground colour, blotched, spotted, or streaked with
brown and gray of various shades. We ought also to
mention, by the way, that the artful bird selects, as a
rule, some little eminence for its breeding-place, where
it can command a good view of approaching danger
and slip quietly away. We have heard countrymen
insist that the Stone Curlew will remove its eggs if it
becomes aware that they have been discovered, but
we cannot vouch for the accuracy of the statement.
We occasionally meet with three of our most
familiar Game Birds upon the heaths; perhaps we
might add a fourth, as we include Lincolnshire in
our area of the northern shires, for there is some
evidence to suggest that the alien Red-legged Part-
ridge is invading the latter county. On many heaths
the English Partridge lives at the present time, and
the harsh crow of the Pheasant is by no means an
unfamiliar sound in these localities, especially when
they adjoin covers. This latter bird is a confirmed
wanderer, given to straying far from its usual haunts.
We have repeatedly noticed fine old cock birds on
the moors, miles from coverts. Whether these wan-
derers ever interbreed with the Grouse we cannot
say, and we are not aware that hybrids between
these species have ever been obtained or recorded.
Lastly, the Black Grouse has a weakness for the
heaths, especially in localities where a belt of timber

122 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

adjoins them. Strange as it may seem, we must
include the Mallard as a heath bird. To mention
one locality only where this bird breeds regularly
upon heaths we may name the Sherwood Forest
area. We have taken nests here far from water or
wet ground of any description, made amongst dead
bracken; and what is also worthy of remark, these
nests were by far the handsomest we have ever seen
of this Duck. They were composed principally of
down from the female’s body, intermixed with fronds
of bracken, and were raised from eight to ten inches
above the surrounding ground. Here again we had
another instance of nests being most difficult to see
in the barest localities. Some were made where the
bracken had been cut, amongst scattered green stems
of the new growth and upon green turf; and yet we
can remember how we had to look long and closely
before we saw them, as they were actually pointed
out to us by a keeper acquaintance. In one instance
—and that where the nest was the most exposed of
all—we could not see the nest, and did not, until the
big brown duck went lumbering off. Of course when
the nests were discovered they seemed conspicuous
in the highest degree, and we could do nothing but
wonder how ever it was possible to overlook them.
One more bird deserves notice ere we bring our
survey of avine life upon the heaths to a conclusion,
and that is the Short-eared Owl. This bird is quite

On Fleaths and Marshes. 123

cosmopolitan in its choice of a haunt. It is as much
a fen or a marsh, a gorse covert or a moor bird as it
is a heath one, apparently as much at home in one
locality as another. We shall have more to say

Riz ma Cok Sa aes

The Short-eared Owl.

about this species, especially its migrations, when we
come to deal with bird-life on the coast. But as this
Owl breeds upon the heaths, amongst other places,
we may as well take this opportunity of a peep at its
domestic arrangements, and one or two other char-
acteristics, distinct from its migrational movements.

124 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Owls are popularly supposed to be exclusive birds of
darkness—crepuscular and nocturnal; but the Short-
eared Owl is a regular day-flier, and may often be
seen beating about in its own peculiar unsteady
erratic way during bright sunshine without any visible
sign of inconvenience. Neither does it seem ever
dazed by the brilliant gleam of lighthouses, but takes
advantage of the glare to catch birds more susceptible
to the artificial light. During the autumn months
especially we may meet with this species in the most
unlikely spots, amongst the sand dunes, in turnip-
fields, in wet meadows and saltings. ‘The birds that
breed on the heaths, however—especially in the
English shires—seem to be sedentary. Although
this Owl unquestionably feeds upon birds, say up to
the size of a Missel-thrush, as its diurnal habits appa-
rently suggest, there can be no doubt of its great
usefulness to man in killing off voles, mice, reptiles,
beetles, and such-like destructive pests. We need
only point to the extraordinary numbers of this Owl
that congregated in Scotland some few years ago
during the plague of voles, and the way in which
they preyed upon them, for an object-lesson of this
bird's usefulness to man. In the matter of its nest-
ing the Short-eared Owl presents us with another
anomaly. Fully in keeping with its love for open
country and its partiality for daylight, it nests upon
the bare ground, and in this respect differs from all

On Fleaths and Marshes. 125

the other British species. We say “nests”, but in
reality there is little or no provision made for the
egos, beyond a mere hollow in which a few scraps
of withered herbage are strewn. The half-dozen
creamy-white eggs are, therefore, conspicuous enough
in many places, though better concealed in others
when they are laid under bracken or amongst heath.
The sitting bird, however, crouches close over them,
and shields them from observation by her own pro-
tective-coloured plumage. These eggs are usually
laid in May in the northern shires, several weeks
earlier in more southern localities.

With a passing glimpse at some of the more inter-
esting phases of bird-life in the northern marshes
we will bring the present chapter to a close. The
Bittern, formerly a dweller in them, has long been
banished from the bogs and mires not only of the
northern shires, but everywhere else in our islands,
and exists now as a tradition only—that is tod say, as

a breeding species. The Marsh Harrier—a name
sufficiently suggestive of the haunts it formerly
affected—has similarly disappeared from the two
northern shires (Yorkshire and Lancashire), where

it formerly bred. One of the most widely-dispersed

birds in these marshy situations is the Water Rail—a
species that is, perhaps, more overlooked, owing to
its secretive habits, than any other found in our

islands. It is astonishing what a small bit of marsh

126 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

or bog will content a Water Rail, provided there is a
sufficiency of cover. Like our old friend the Moor-
hen, it may also often be met with wandering from
its usual boggy retreats into such unlikely places as
gardens and farmyards. Although it is flushed with
difficulty, it is by no means uncommonly seen on
open spots or even in the branches of trees. In not
a few heaths it is an almost unknown and _ unsus-
pected dweller in the marshy drains and round the
rushes that fringe the shallow pools where peat or
turf has been cut; indeed, we have met with it
almost within hail of some of our busiest towns. Its
rather bulky nest, made of a varied collection of dead
and decaying herbage and aquatic plants, is always
placed upon the ground in some quiet nook in its
haunts, and its half-dozen or so eggs are buff in
ground colour, spotted with reddish-brown and gray.
Though far more local than the preceding, the
Spotted Crake must also be included in our review
of northern bird-life. Unlike the Water Rail, how-
ever, it is a summer migrant to the British Islands.
Some individuals, however, appear to winter with us
in the southern counties. The migrants appear in
April in the south, several weeks later in the north.
The habits of the two species are similar in many
respects. The Lapwing, the Redshank, and the
Common Snipe may also be met with in these situa-
tions, the Redshank in summer only, when it retires

On Heaths and Marshes. ey

to them to breed, seeking the coasts in autumn; the
others at all seasons. Amongst the Passerine birds
of the marshes we may instance the Sedge Warbler
—one of the most widely distributed of British
species—the varied chattering music of which is a
very characteristic marsh sound during the summer.
At a few localities in Yorkshire and Lancashire the
Reed Warbler may be met with, a migratory species
like the last, but not penetrating to Scotland. Then
the Reed Bunting is a familiar bird on many a marshy
waste, so too is the Sky-lark and the Meadow Pipit;
whilst in winter-time these places are often made
lively by large congregations of Lapwings, Starlings,
Rooks and Redwings, and scattered Jack Snipes
from far northern haunts.

We may conclude our brief notice of marsh bird-
life by a glimpse at the Black-headed Gull. This
charming bird visits many a swampy piece of ground
far from the sea during spring and summer to rear
its young. In Lincolnshire there is an extensive
gullery near Brigg—at Twigmoor—from which we
have had many eggs during our long residence in
South Yorkshire. There is another in South York-
shire near Thorne; a third at Cockerham Moss in
Lancashire. As we proceed northwards the colonies
of this Gull increase in number, and in Scotland they
are still more frequent. Many of these gulleries are
situated on islands in pools in the marshes and on

128 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

the heaths. Not a few of them are almost sur-
rounded by trees of various kinds, and at the North
Lincolnshire settlement nests are not unfrequently
made in the branches. We have already described
the colonies of the Black-headed Gull in previous

The Black-headed Gull.

works, so that but few details are needed here. In
Lincolnshire the birds wander far and wide from
their station near Brigg, and parties of them may
be met with on the fields many miles from home.
The Gulls are as regular in their habits as Rooks,
with which we have often seen them fraternizing,
flying out to feed on the wet meadows, and follow-
ing the plough until evening, returning home in
straggling streams just like their sable companions.

As we get near Brigg the birds become more abun-

On Heaths and Marshes. i29

dant in the fields; we remember, on one occasion,
to have seen a ploughed field black and white with
Rooks and Gulls, many of which when disturbed
flew up from the furrows into the nearest trees; and
very curious the white Gulls looked—birds that we
associate with the water so closely—as they sat in
the branches side by side with cawing Rooks. Early
in the year, and before the birds leave the coast,
the sooty-brown hood characteristic of the breeding
season and of both sexes begins to be assumed. In
Devonshire this takes place nearly a month earlier
than in the north. In March they congregate at the
old familiar stations which have been in use from
time immemorial, and nest-building commences
almost at once. The nests are ready for eggs by
the first or second week in April. These are gene-
rally made upon the spongy ground of the marshy
islands or on the marshes themselves, and in many
cases are little more than hollows lined with a little
dry grass. Other nests are bulkier, and these, we
have often remarked, are nearest to the water, or
even in the shallow pools. The three eggs are
subject to much variation, but the ordinary type is
brown or olive-green in ground colour, spotted and
blotched with darker brown and gray. In many
localities the eggs of the first laying are gathered by
the tenant or proprietor of the gullery, as they are

sold in vast numbers for food. Many, we know, are
(at 618 ) I

130 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

passed off as Plovers’ eggs, but the fraud we should
say would never be successful with anyone acquainted
with the latter delicacy. The scene at the nests
when the place is invaded by man is a very charm-
ing one, the Gulls rising in clouds into the air and
wheeling about in bewildering confusion, uttering
their noisy cries of remonstrance. Even more ani-
mated does the scene become when the young are
hatched, for then the old birds show much greater
solicitude. An inland gullery always seems to strike
us as a trifle incongruous, for we are always apt to
associate a Gull with the sea; yet here, miles away
from the salt water, often surrounded by rural scenes,
are Gulls in thousands as happy and contented as
though they had never been near a coast in their
lives. When the young are able to fly, however, the
instinct of the sea apparently returns to them, and
back they go to the salt water to wander far and
wide, and lead a life of errantry until love brings
them inland again in the following spring.

CHAPTER. Vv.

IN FOREST AND COPSE.

ERHAPS the avifauna of the woods and coppices,
in northern and southern shires alike, is more
similar in its general aspects than that of any other
special localities with the same difference of latitude
between them. Nevertheless there are southern
species absent from these northern woodlands, and
others common enough up here that are not seen in
the counties of the south. Then again some species
become rarer or commoner in the north, as the case
may be, or exactly the reverse; or we shall find not
a little difference in the habits of some of these
woodland birds, as compared with those of southern
haunts, and also in many cases considerable variation
in the date of the arrival or departure of migratory
species.

We confess at the beginning of this chapter to a
very decided partiality for well-timbered districts, for
woods and shrubberies, grand old forests and more
youthful coppices; for, apart from the natural beauty
of these sylvan spots, they are such favourite haunts
of birds. For many years we lived almost sur-
rounded by woodlands, and in some directions could

132 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

wander for half a score miles or more amongst little
else but trees—hence our affection for these places,
which we got to know by heart, and in doing so be-
came familiar with the rich array of bird-life that
dwelt in their shady depths. We also retain many
a vivid memory of wanderings in fir and pine wood
farther north in quest of ornithological information;
whilst grand old Sherwood Forest on one side of
Sheffield, and equally attractive Wharncliffe Woods
on the other, were the scene of many an explora-
tion after knowledge relating to the bird-life of
such localities. Then in other directions we had the
noble woodlands at Eccleshall, Beauchief, and Totley,
and along the Rivelin Valley—all of them nearer
home, and all of them well favoured with bird-life in
great variety. These extensive woods, however, are
not favourite haunts of the smaller Passeres; rather
are they the home of Hawks, Magpies, Crows, Jays,
Doves, Woodpeckers, Pheasants, and so on; the
coppices, plantations, smaller woods, and _ well-tim-
bered bottoms, together with extensive shrubberies
and tree-filled parks—these are the grand haunts of
hosts of little birds of many species, the varied habits
of which were to us a constant source of keenest
delight. There is one charm about woodlands that
scarcely any other description of scenery can claim
constantly, and that is, summer and winter alike birds
are plentiful amongst them. The moors and the

In Forest and Copse. 133

sea crags, the shore and the stream, the marsh and
the heath, have their times of avine abundance, in
summer or in winter, and then they are more or less
deserted, but the woods and shrubberies, the cop-
pices and timbered parks, are a haunt in summer and
a refuge in winter of a vast and varied bird popula-
tion as well as an aviary of almost perennial song!
These splendid woods ought to be the haunt of
not a few raptorial birds, but unfortunately they are
not, as persecution has done its disastrous work, and
Kites and Buzzards and Hobbys have been practi-
cally exterminated by the gamekeeper. Now the
Kestrel and the Sparrow-hawk are the only two that
are left, at least in the localities we have specified
above. In some of the Scottish woods the Buzzard
still continues to breed; the Kite is restricted to
one or two spots in Wales and Scotland; whilst
the Hobby, though still a nesting species in York-
shire and Derbyshire, is so rare that few observers
will have the good fortune to meet with it. Once
more we would urge our plea on behalf of these
three species, all of them practically harmless and
inoffensive birds, yet threatened with absolute exter-
mination if the landed proprietors will not come to
their assistance. An appeal to powerful land-owners
—the owners of vast areas of woodlands—is possibly
more effective than protective legislation, for in their
hands lies all the machinery for the effectual protec-

134 Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

tion of such species. Peremptory and strict orders
to keepers should do all that is necessary; we have
a lifelong experience of such men, and can therefore
testify to their usual obedience to instructions, whether
for good or evil, as regards the so-called feathered
vermin dwelling in their preserves. We are there-
fore firmly convinced that the winning over of the
land-owner to the side of those who seek to preserve
our avifauna intact would be of more real benefit
than any half-dozen acts of parliament so long as it
is nobody’s business to enforce them.

Of the three raptorial birds mentioned above the
Common Buzzard (what irony of fate for such a
species to possess so misleading a name!) is the only
one of which we can record any personal experience
within the woodlands of Notts, North Derbyshire,
and South Yorkshire, specified above. ‘This hap-
pened many years ago, notwithstanding which we
retain a very vivid remembrance of all the circum-
stances. We had spent the day with an old poacher,
who not unfrequently allowed us to accompany him
on his illegal wanderings (and we flatter ourselves
on that subtle if youthful diplomacy that enabled
us to stand well with both gamekeepers and poachers
alike), fishing in prohibited waters, and were return-
ing homewards through a large wood, known locally
as ‘“‘the Rawlinson”. This wood stands just on the
border-line of Derbyshire and Yorkshire; in fact,

L[n Forest and Copse.

135
the trout stream that flows through it we believe

actually divides the two counties. It used to con-

tain many grand oaks, and was always a favourite

The Common Buzzard,

cover for Pheasants because of the many clumps of
holly-trees within it. In one of these oaks we spied
a huge nest of sticks, and our poacher companion,
when this was pointed out to him, volunteered the

136 Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

information that it was a “Big Hawk’s” nest.
Tired and weary as we were, but incited by the
possibility of finding some hitherto unknown eggs,
we set to work to climb the mast-like trunk for some
sixty feet. We can recall even now our frequent
pauses for breath as we slowly approached the spot;
how the nest seemed to get larger and larger as each
succeeding branch was passed; and then how the big
brown bird slipped off with a flutter that made our
heart beat fast with anticipation; and how finally we
reached the forking limbs where the nest was built,
and placed our arm over the rim of sticks and felt
the three warm eggs lying on the smooth lining.
We climbed no higher, but transferring the precious
eggs to our hat, and encouraged by the old rascal
below—who would not have climbed so high for all
the eggs in Christendom —we got safely down.
There was some outcry afterwards from the keepers
respecting the robbing of this nest, for they had
intended to trap the old birds, but we kept discreetly
silent. During a long residence in the neighbour-
hood we never saw or heard of another nest of this
Buzzard.

Notwithstanding persecution, the Kestrel and the
Sparrow-hawk happily can still be regarded as fairly
common birds in all these woodlands. Trapping
and shooting do their best each year to hasten on
their extermination, but fortunately both birds breed

Ln Forest and Copse. Lia

in localities where their nests are not so very easy
to discover. The Kestrel is especially fortunate in
this respect, for it breeds in the deserted nests of
Crows, Stock Doves, and Magpies, or in the old
drey of a squirrel, and a good many of these nests
may be searched without finding the one selected;
not only so, but the trees are generally in full foliage
before the eggs are laid or the young hatched, and
this fact conduces greatly to the concealment of
many a nest. We can recall many occasions when
we have climbed to a score or more deserted nests
in a single day, amongst these grand old woods, on
the off-chance of discovering Kestrels’ or Long-eared
Owls’ eggs, and considered ourselves well rewarded
if we found one or two at most occupied by these
second tenants. On the other hand, many have
been the times when we have seen keepers shoot into
these old nests, as well as fire and kill the brooding
Hawk as she sat upon her eggs or sheltered her
downy young, in spite of all remonstrance upon our
part. The Sparrow-hawk breeds a little earlier.
We have had a long and varied experience with the
domestic economy of this plucky little bird, and we
have invariably found that it not only builds its own
nest, but makes a new one every season. Indeed,
in not a few cases we have noticed that when its eges
have been taken from one nest it has built another
in the vicinity in which to lay a new clutch. The

138 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

larch woods in the Rivelin Valley—around Hollow
Meadows—are, or used to be, a very favourite resort
of this Hawk, possibly because keepers were some-
what lax, or never visited some of the coppices from
one year to another. In these larch and spruce-fir
woods, many old nests of the Sparrow-hawk might
be seen, the deserted tenements of years and years.
It was also rather remarkable that most of these
nests were in trees within a stone’s-throw of the
artillery volunteers’ target, and all around them were
larches and spruces snapped and splintered, and the
ground and rocks scored by the conical cannon-balls
which lay in dozens all over the place. From one
nest in this wood we obtained, by careful manage-
ment, never quite emptying it, no less than fourteen
eggs during a single spring. Curiously enough upon
more than one occasion we have found a nest of the
Goldcrest in the same spruce-fir as the nest of the
Sparrow-hawk.

Nowhere else in our experience were the Magpies
allowed to live in such peace as they enjoyed in this
romantic valley. On the south side, from Bell Hage
onwards to Hollow Meadows, was almost one con-
tinuous woodland, coppice succeeding coppice, until
they terminated in the larch and spruce woods, where
the Sparrow-hawks bred, and through which Wyming
Brook bored its way under a perfect archway of
trees from its source on the Bamford Moors near

In Forest and Copse, 139

Redmires. Within this few miles of timber we have
frequently known as many as a dozen nests of the
Magpie all occupied. In not a few cases the old
nest was returned to each spring, renovated and
used again. Some of these nests were made high
up in the oak and alder trees, others were placed in
birch-trees, and less frequently in a stunted white-
thorn growing amidst the briars and brambles and
bracken and boulders of millstone grit on the open
rough land. Not a few were placed in the alder-
trees that fringed the streams between the reservoirs.
The Jay, on the other hand, was a scarce bird here,
for the woods had little or no undergrowth, in which
that bird specially delights. In most other woods
of our acquaintance the Magpie was a sorely-perse-
cuted species, and every bird and every nest were
destroyed that the keepers could discover. Several
times during the course of the spring many keepers
hold a grand “ vermin battue”. A keeper will gather
round him half a dozen village loafers, and then the
precious party will proceed to hunt the covers, killing
every Magpie, Jay, or Hawk that comes in their
way, and pulling out every nest they can discover.
We know the ways of these gentry only too well, for
years ago we often accompanied such a party, help-
less to save, yet glad to increase our knowledge of
woodland bird-life. Not a few nests have we seen
on these occasions and held our peace, or visited

140 <Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

others containing young Hawks and Magpies which
we have saved by a fictitious report to the expectant
keeper and his murdering band below. In any case
the slaughter at the close of the day was sad enough;
and as the capacious game-bags were emptied, and
the Jays and Magpies and Hawks, with perhaps
an odd Nightjar or an Owl — beautiful creatures
each one of them, and some of the fairest avine
ornaments our woodlands can boast—were turned
out into a heap by the kennel door, we ceased to
wonder why such species in not a few localities exist
as names or traditions only. Apart from any utili-
tarian motive that should prompt their preservation
—and mind, some of these birds are perfectly harm-
less or of downright service to man—surely on
eesthetic grounds a universal plea should be raised
for their protection, and such brutal slaughter staid
once and for ever.

As we previously remarked, the Jay is not so
universally distributed as the Magpie; it loves
cover, and delights in such woods where the under-
growth of hazel is dense and where clumps of holly-
trees abound. It is also fond of the large shrubberies
and copses, especially such as adjoin parks and well-
timbered farm lands. We had Jays nesting more
or less commonly close to our residence, in the
shrubbery attached to Meersbrook Park—a famous
spot for birds five-and-twenty years ago, before the

L[n Forest and Copse. 141

builder appeared upon the scene and before it be-
came one of the public parks of Sheffield. Here
was established a fine rookery, and the densely
wooded grounds round what is now the Ruskin
Museum were the favourite haunts of Thrushes and
Blackbirds, of Redwings and Bramblings during
winter, of Greenfinches, Bullfinches, Titmice, seclu-
sion-loving Warblers, Flycatchers, Robins, Wrens,
and other birds. For many years this half-wood
half-shrubbery was our constant resort. The wary
Rooks got to know us most intimately, and never
left the treetops or made any unusual noise or dis-
turbance as we wandered under the nests. But
let a stranger venture near and all was commotion
and uproar at once. The sable fellows would not
allow me a companion; and whenever I walked
beneath the nest-trees accompanied by a friend
the birds would be sure to raise a prolonged chorus
of protesting cries. We never knew a spot where
more birds came at nightfall during winter to roost
amongst the evergreens. For years we used to
conceal ourselves in some favourite spot and watch
the interesting ways and doings of these mixed
avine hosts as they settled themselves to rest. In
spring and summer it was equally favoured as a
nesting-place. Fortunately all bird-life here was
respected; every species was safe and welcome
within this fair domain; it was a sanctuary, a place

142 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

of refuge for all birds irrespective of their ill-deeds,
their bad or shady characters. No gun was ever
fired within the sacred fences, and the birds could
live their happy lives in peace. Small wonder
then that the Jay took kindly to such a haven of
safety and seclusion; and it was always a source of
delight to watch the troops of young birds and their
parents, that in summer-time used to troop about
the underwood, patches of gaudy colour amongst
the green, and noisy and impudent as is ever their
wont. In the earlier years of our experience an odd
Pheasant or two dwelt in this spot and added to its
interest; their disappearance was a sign of that
coming change that was to find its culmination in
the more or less complete banishment of bird-life
from this chosen spot.

Sherwood Forest, especially in the Dukeries and
round about Edwinstowe, was also another favourite
woodland haunt of ours. Here, however, the con-
ditions were somewhat different. Game reigned
supreme; the deity of the woods was the Pheasant, |
and less favoured birds were harassed and _perse-
cuted by the keepers. Notwithstanding this there
is a good deal of bird-life in the forest of surpassing
interest to the ornithologist. For instance, one of
the most interesting colonies of Jackdaws in our
islands is established there. The birds have taken
possession of the hollow and ancient oak-trees—

In Forest and Copse. 143

many of them mere shells of bark, yet outwardly
presenting a green and vigorous appearance and
bearing their heavy crops of acorns in the autumn—
which for a thousand years or more have stood in
sunshine and storm upon ground made classic by
Robin Hood. Indeed, it requires little stretch of
the imagination to repeople these forest glades with
the sturdy outlaws that tradition says dwelt amongst
them once upon a time, in open defiance of the
authorities, and fed sumptuously upon the deer and
other game with which the Forest abounded. Then
the oak trees were in their prime; now they are
enarled and knotted and wrinkled, loaded with dead
branches, and full of hollows and crevices, the result
of countless storms and tempests. The adaptive
Jackdaw has not been slow to seize upon such an
advantageous spot, and has multiplied apace. Many
hundreds of nests may be counted in one compara-
tively small area of the forest, and some of the tree-
trunks are literally choked with sticks from root to
summit, the accumulation of more years than any of
us can remember. Scattered amongst these Jack-
daws is an almost equally extensive colony of
Starlings, many of these latter birds nesting in the
same holes as them. We have repeatedly found
that some of the largest piles of sticks contained no
nest at the top—as if the original owners had finally
succumbed to old age, yet not before they had

144 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

hoarded and left as a monument to their many years
of industry a cart-load or more of nest materials.
We have noticed the same thing in Rooks’ nests,
piles of sticks a yard high or more, yet never occu-
pied season after season, until blown out by winter
gales or filched by other members of the community.
The grand old timber here is also attractive to the
Stock Dove; and whilst we are examining the homes
of the Jackdaws and the Starlings, a Stock Dove
every now and then dashes with impetuous haste
out of the holes and crannies. Rarest of all, we may
sometimes stumble across the home of the Tawny
Owl. The keeper in this particular part of the
forest takes good care that Owls shall not live in it
in peace, nevertheless a fair number contrive to elude
him. He had also tales to tell of Hawks (possibly
Hobbys and Buzzards) that formerly bred round
about his special beats, but ‘“‘none of late years”.
More interested was he in the Wild Ducks and
Woodcocks that nested up and down the forest, and
much information he was disposed to impart con-
cerning the latter birds (about which he had several
theories of his own) as we used to sit in his wood-
surrounded cottage and quaff his home-brewed ale,
which he was never tired of assuring us would never
produce any evil or intoxicating effects. Then after
our chat and refreshment he would be prevailed
upon to wander out into the woodlands, after first

Ln Forest and Copse. 145

carefully taking down from its pegs the scrupulously
clean pin-fire breech-loader, and whistling to his
favourite dog, and conduct us by paths only known
to himself to many a secluded spot where shy birds

were nesting. Here it might be a Pheasant’s nest

The Woodcock.

he would allow us cautiously to approach, and peer
down at the brown-mottled back of the hen bird as
she quietly brooded over her numerous eggs; there
a Wild Duck’s nest out amongst the bracken would
be pointed out; whilst on rare occasions he would
wander farther abroad into the most secluded wood-
lands, and take us to inspect the home of the Wood-

cock placed snugly under the bracken and brambles.
(M618 ) K

146 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Unfortunately, like all his class, he was dead set
against ‘‘vermin” of every kind, furred and feathered,
even including the squirrels that leapt about in the
branches overhead. Against these he had a par-
ticular aversion, for he said they were ‘ pestering
varmints” that sucked every egg they could find.
In the more open parts of the forest, where the
birch-trees are abundant, we often used to find a
nest of the Missel-thrush; not that there was any-
thing specially remarkable in this, but we never saw
a nest of this Thrush in Sherwood Forest with-
out thinking of the tradition that so inseparably
connects the mistletoe with it. There is no other
district in our islands known to us where this para-
sitic plant is so plentiful; it grows in huge bushes on
the poplar trees, a conspicuous object for miles
across the country in the Dukeries, and the white-
thorns in some spots are thickly studded with it,
best seen, of course, during winter. And yet we
have never noticed Missel-thrushes in any excep-
tional numbers in this district, nor have we ever
seen them feeding upon the berries. Talking of
the nest of this bird brings to mind a fact we have
remarked in at least two widely different localities,
and that is the number of nests that are sometimes
built quite close together. Along the streams in the
Rivelin Valley they used to be found in the alder-
trees, perhaps half a dozen within a hundred yards

/n Forest and Copse. 147

or so; whilst in the swampy corner of a wood at
Norton we have remarked several nests in adjoining
trees. The prettiest nests of this Thrush we have
ever seen were from the Rivelin Valley, and com-
posed externally almost completely of sphagnum
moss, amongst which a few slender birch twigs were
interwoven. We never found more than four eggs
in the nest of the Missel-thrush, and always consider
that this is the normal number, never less and never
more. Indeed, the bird is as regular in this respect
as the Snipes, and more so, perhaps, than any other
Passerine species. The Carrion Crow, we are glad
to say, still manages to maintain a place in these
northern woodlands, but in not a few places he is
yearly becoming scarcer. He is without doubt a sad
thief and a plundering rascal, yet in spite of all his dark
deeds we should be sorry to see him banished. — His
bulky well-made nest, to which he returns, when left
unmolested, year by year, is generally placed far up
one of the tallest trees in the wood. It is interesting
to remark, however, that he is a much later breeder
in these northern woods than in the southern shires.
In Devonshire we have known the Carrion Crow
commence building in March, but in South York-
shire the eggs are not usually laid before the end of
April or even in May. Farther north, as readers
may be aware, this species is gradually and almost
entirely replaced by the Hooded Crow a bird that

148 Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

we have already noticed. Birds of the Pigeon tribe
are common in most of these northern woods. Of
these the Ring Dove is by far the most numerous—
too numerous for the farmers in not a few localities.
Until we came south we had scarcely any idea of
how tame and trustful this species is when left
unmolested. We always knew it as one of the
shyest and wariest of birds, never allowing us to
approach it within gunshot unless it thought itself
unseen, and best shot from an ambuscade in the
woods or during the evening when it came to certain
favourite spots to roost. Gamekeepers shoot a
great many of these birds from the rough platforms
in the woods erected to scatter food upon for the
Pheasants. The Stock Dove is not so common,
but this is perhaps because it is not so conservative
in choice of a haunt, and is therefore scattered over
a much wider area. In some parts of South York-
shire and North Derbyshire it is known as the
‘“Rockier”. We have few other birds that adapt
themselves to such a diversity of haunt, from the
dense woods to the bare warrens, quarries, and ocean
cliffs. Both these birds are breeding right through
the spring and summer, well into the autumn. On
the other hand, the Turtle Dove is a summer visitor
only to the woods; but it is a local and somewhat
scarce bird so far north as South Yorkshire. We know
it breeds regularly in the well-timbered country about

In Forest and Copse. 149

Bawtry; we have seen it in the Wharncliffe Woods,
and occasionally in suitable spots in North Derby-
shire. It rarely reaches this northern fringe of its
British habitat before May, but in Devonshire it
may frequently be seen at the end of April. Its
migrations, however, are somewhat rapid, for there
is not much difference between the date of arrival
‘n northern and southern counties alike. This Dove,
like the Jay, loves woods with plenty of under-
growth and fields that are surrounded with tall
uncut hedges full of trees. Its noisy love-cry in
early summer we always think is one of the most
pleasing sounds of the green woods, but unfor-
tunately one that is not very frequent in our northern
shires. Its migration south begins in September.
Of the Game Birds of the woodlands we shall
have little to say. The Pheasant, of course, is the
most familiar of all; comparatively few observers
are fortunate enough to meet with the magnificent
Capercailzie, and the Black Grouse is scarcely common
enough to be classed as a well-known one. We
often think it would have been better had the Ro-
mans left the Pheasant to its continental home, for
indirectly its introduction to our islands has caused
many a beautiful indigenous bird to suffer persecu-
tion. The Pheasant is by no means a harmless
bird: it works a good deal of mischief amongst the

crops, aS many a poor struggling farmer knows; it

150 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

would probably become extinct in a few years were
it not strictly preserved and its numbers increased

The Black Grouse.

by artificial means; whilst it has been the cause of
more ill-feeling, crime, and absolute human _blood-

shed than amy other bird in the British Islands.

In Forest and Copse. 151

The price we pay to maintain this alien amongst our
avifauna is a high one; its presence is purchased at
the cost of countless numbers of indigenous birds
of greater and more effective beauty; its protection
is made an excuse for the incessant butchery of some
of our most interesting species. The introduction
of exotic species into any country is sure, sooner or
later, to affect some portion of the native fauna in
a disastrous way; and yet there are writers—deem-
ing themselves naturalists—who urge the introduc-
tion of various gaudy exotic birds, as if our woods
and fields were not ornamented sufficiently by what
is normally there, and which surely have the right
to live—all Game Birds notwithstanding. We hear
of no crusade against Hawks, and Owls, and Crows,
and such like species in wild uncivilized countries, and
yet winged game is always abundant—at least until
man and his breech-loader comes upon the scene; and
we maintain that our indigenous Game Birds would
well hold their own if all vermin were left in peace,
and would be the healthier and stronger for it. The
alien Pheasant we are not quite so certain about;
but if not able to maintain itself against such enemies,
then these islands would be all the better without it.

More interesting to the naturalist in these woods
of the northern shires are the Woodpeckers. All
three British species are represented in them, but
the Green Woodpecker, the largest and showiest of

152. Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

all, is decidedly the least common. Curiously enough
the exact reverse is the case in many a southern
shire; in Devonshire, for instance, we may see more
Green Woodpeckers in a week than we might see
in a year in not a few of our northern woods. The
two Spotted Woodpeckers are none the less interest-
ing, however, although unfortunately they are much
more difficult to discover, and apt to be thought much
rarer than they really are. The Lesser Spotted
Woodpecker is by far the most restricted in its dis-
tribution; indeed, we doubt if it is found at all north
of Yorkshire. The Greater Spotted Woodpecker
ranges a little farther north, but we are very near its
normal limits in this direction in Yorkshire. It is
somewhat remarkable that the forests of Scotland
are devoid of Woodpeckers; whilst Ireland is equally
unfortunate, none of the three species being known
to breed there. This seems all the more extra-
ordinary when we know that all three species breed
up to much higher latitudes on the Continent, the
two Spotted species going up to or beyond the Arctic
circle, the Green species to a higher degree than the
Shetlands. We have met with the Lesser Spotted
Woodpecker in very small copses, and even in gardens
and parks. During winter both species may be met
with amongst timber, which they never frequent
during the breeding season; in fact, they are given
to wandering, and may be detected during the cold

L[n Forest and Copse. 153

months in almost every description of well-timbered
country. The habits of these birds are very similar,
and they all breed in holes, and lay shining white
eggs. Rarer and more local still is the curious

The Greater Spotted Woodpecker.

Wryneck, a summer visitor only to our islands, and
finding no habitation at all in Ireland. Its arrival
in most places is usually coincident with that of the
Cuckoo—hence in not a few localities it is known as
the “ Cuckoo’s Mate”. Here again we have a bird
that is much overlooked, its chaste and sober colour-
ing (yet exquisitely beautiful in detail) and its shy and

154 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

retiring ways and love for the timber all assisting in
its concealment. The Wryneck is something of an
anomaly. Internally it resembles the Woodpeckers
(the Wrynecks form a sub-family of the Picida); its
plumage is mottled and dusted and pencilled like
that of a Nightjar; its tail-feathers are soft and
flexible; it rarely, if ever, climbs the timber, and
hops about the slender branches like the typical
Passeres. These external characteristics are, how-
ever, quite in harmony with its ways of life.

Among the more familiar Passerine birds of the
woodlands we may first allude to the Titmice. They
are the special small birds of the trees, and every
British species—if we exclude the abnormal Bearded
Titmouse—is found amongst them. Not only so,
but the northern woods in certain parts of Scotland
are the exclusive home of the Crested Tit—a bird
that we saw on one occasion near Sheffield. Few
woods in our experience more abounded with Tit-
mice than the birch and alder coppices along the
Rivelin Valley, especially in autumn, and invariably
mingled with them at that season were flights of
migrant Goldcrests. Allied to the Titmice we also
have the soberly arrayed little Creeper, and the
more showy plumaged Nuthatch. The latter, how-
ever, is exceedingly local in our Yorkshire woods,
and we are not aware that it breeds to the north of
the county, or that it is found at all in Ireland. The

Ln Forest and Copse. 155

Nightingale penetrates as far north as the Plain of
York, perhaps exceptionally beyond, but it is rare
enough in the neighbourhood of Sheffield, and we
never had the good fortune to meet with it there
during a residence of nearly twenty years, although
we know the Sedge Warbler has not unfrequently
been mistaken for it. A member of one of the allied
genera, however, is common enough, we mean the
gay and lively Redstart—the showiest, perhaps, of
all the migrant band. In the coppice just above
Bell Hage the Redstart was very common. The
Wheatear bred in the quarries there, but the Red-
start loved the range of rocks that ran bulwark-like
along the valley above the copse. We used to find
its nest in the crevices of these rocks, as well as in
holes among the birch-trees. We remember one
nest in a decayed birch that contained eight eggs
ranged neatly round in rows; another beneath the
rock, at the top of Blackbrook, that bears an inscrip-
tion to the effect that upon it Elliott the ‘“ corn-law
rhymer” used to sit and write his poetry. Both
Redstart and Wheatear are only birds of simmer
in our islands, the latter arriving perhaps a week
before the former, in April. The three species of
Willow Wren must also be included in this brief
résumé of bird-life in the northern woods. Com-
monest of this charming trio we must class the
Willow Wren. Our northern woods from April

156 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

onwards are a specially chosen haunt of this delicate-
looking little bird. It abounds in most, from the
borders of the moors right up to the suburbs of the
grimy northern manufacturing towns, and its sweet
little refrain is one of the most familiar songs of the
spring. Next, perhaps, in order of abundance we
should place the Wood Wren, the largest, and at
the same time the showiest of the three species. It
is interesting to know that for more than two hundred
years we have records of the Wood Wren in what
are now the western suburbs of Sheffield. Francis
Jessop of Sheffield sent an example of the Wood
Wren to Willughby, and Ray published a descrip-
tion of it in his Ovzzthologia, one of the earliest
works dealing with British birds. “The Wood Wren
is the most attached to the woods of all the three
species, and its peculiar shivering ‘‘song” is a
familiar sound from the tree-tops throughout the
spring and summer. Lastly, we have the Chiffchaff,
certainly the rarest and most local of all. In the
south-west of England the reverse is the case,
and there its monotonous cry may be heard from
the close of March onwards to September. It does
not, however, reach the northern shires until the
first or second week in April, although we have a
Sherwood Forest record for March. All these birds
build more or less domed nests, usually on the
ground, and often in woods (the Chiffchaff some-

Ln Forest and Copse. 157

times makes its nest some distance from the ground),
the Willow Wren and the Chiffchaff lining theirs
with feathers, but the Wood Wren contents itself
with fine grass and hair. The Wood Wren is the
latest to arrive towards the end of April, and departs
the earliest in autumn; the Willow Wren leaves us
in September, the Chiffchaff not unfrequently linger-
ing on into October. It should be remarked that
not only the Willow Wren but the Chiffchaff are
not by any means confined to woods, but are equally
common in gardens, orchards, hedgerows, and
thickets.

CHAPTER VY VI

IN FARM AND GARDEN.

NE of the greatest charms about bird-life of the
farm and garden is its great variety. Any
person who cares to go the right way to work can
acquire a very fair ornithological education in such
places, a large percentage of our best-known birds
being found in them at one time of the year or
another. It was our good fortune for a great many
years to ornithologize upon several hundreds of
acres of farm land of the most diversified character:
whilst an additional advantage was the fact that
we had to contend with no high-farming, the greater
portion of it being worked on the good old slovenly
plan—weedy corners, long stubbles, uncut hedges,
and general untidiness—so attractive to birds. Al-
most every possible description of cover could be
found. We had high ground, sheltered valleys,
wooded bottoms, plenty of timber in field and hedge-
row, trout streams and sunk fences, patches of bog,
and great thickets of briar and bramble in unused
corners; large stackyards, plenty of old sheds and
buildings, some of them covered with ivy, and an
abundance of evergreens round about the homesteads,

Ln Farm and Garden. 159

which were in some cases surrounded by orchards
and old-fashioned gardens. We have only to add
that large woods adjoined here and there, together
with smaller plantations and shrubberies in some of
which rookeries were established, and also that
gamekeepers were absent and much of the sur-
rounding property was unpreserved as regards game,
to complete the brief description of an ideal haunt
for wild birds. Unfortunately we lived long enough
near this avine paradise to see much of it destroyed,
turned over to the builder, and bird-life banished.
Those who remember the quaint old village of
Heeley (now, alas! a suburb of Sheffield) in the days
before the railway, when the mail-coach passed
through twice a day and caused the only commotion,
when the old flour-mill driven by water, with its tree-
surrounded dam, stood where the railway-station
does now, may perhaps recall the matchless sylvan
beauty of Meersbrook, the Banks, and the old hall at
Norton Lees. Much of it now has been transformed
into a wilderness of bricks and mortar. There are
many other similar spots about the northern shires
in which the annual cycle of bird-life is much the

same—at least we have found it so—and in the
present chapter we propose to outline some of its
most salient features.

Perhaps the most familiar birds of the open fields,

especially in spring, are the Rooks. They may be

160 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

found on every kind of field in turn. They visit
the grass-lands, especially when manure is being
spread; they are constant companions of the plough-
man’s team, and search furrow after furrow as the
bright share turns over the brown earth; whilst all
the newly-sown patches are sought for any seed
that may chance to be within reach. In seed-time
Rooks are certainly troublesome, and usually one or
two of the marauders have to be shot and hung up
from stakes on the scene of their misdeeds as a
warning tothe rest before the pilfering ceases. And
yet happy is the farmer that has a rookery within
easy distance of his land. The birds will increase
its value and fertility by ridding pasture and arable
land of countless insect pests, and for nine or ten
months out of the twelve wage a never-ending war
upon the real enemies of his crops. Many farmers
we have known will admit that the Rook is of service;
others have been converted into staunch friends of
the bird after we have satisfied them by ocular
demonstration of the number of wire-worms a
healthy hearty Rook will devour in the course of
a morning. Very beautiful these birds look in their
purple-black plumage, almost as polished as bright
steel, in the sunlight as they walk about the ploughed
fields and pastures. And then their home in the
cluster of elm-trees yonder is a place fraught with
interest if full of noise. Towards the close of

[Tn Farm and Garden. 161

February, or, if the weather be still inclement, not
until the beginning of March, and at least a fortnight
or three weeks later than in Devonshire, the Rooks
begin to tidy up their big nests in the slender
branches at the tree-tops. Others, less fortunate,

The Rook.

commence to build entirely new nests. But this
building is by no means universal for a week or
more; the mania for collecting sticks and turf has
not yet spread through the entire colony, and num-
bers of birds may be seen looking on with indifference
at the efforts of more industrious neighbours. What
a noisy animated scene the old rookery is for the
next month, until the eggs are laid in the big
massive nests; then there is comparative quietness
until the young are hatched, when the noisy clamour

begins again with greater volume until nestlings
(M 618 ) L

162 Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

and parents get on to the adjoining fields. They
return in many cases to the nest trees to roost, and
then each evening the din is deafening as troop after
troop of tired birds come straggling in from all
directions and caw themselves hoarse before drop-
ping off to sleep in the tall trees.

Another familar bird of the farm is the Starling—
a species that does not reveal its beauty unless
examined minutely. There are few birds in this
country more gorgeously arrayed with metallic sheen
than a fine old cock Starling in the full flush and
vigour of spring plumage. His lemon-yellow bill
at this season also increases the effect. As harmless
as it is useful, it keeps close company with the
Rooks, although it shows little inclination to follow
those birds on to the arable land; it loves the grass
fields and manure heaps, being somewhat of an
unclean feeder. Then it always selects a covered
site of some kind for nesting purposes, being most
adaptive in this respect. We used to place boxes
for its accommodation in the trees; and we have
known a disused pigeon-cot fastened to a_ high
wall packed to its utmost capacity with nests. Few
birds are more attached to their breeding-place.
For many years a pair of Starlings bred in a hole
in a tall elm-tree in one of the fields. From this
nest we actually obtained forty eggs in a season,
and sometimes for a couple of years in succession

In Farm and Garden. 163

the birds did not succeed in raising a brood. Every
summer the Starlings of the entire district gathered
into one or two large flocks, and these came evening
by evening to roost in a cluster of whitethorns until
the late autumn, when they changed their quarters
to the evergreens close by. Another thing that
endears the Starling to us is its perennial song.
Few other song-birds make so much fuss over their
music as the Starling. Action of some kind seems
always essential to vocal effort; and the way he
erects almost every feather, or sways about or stands
in some grotesque attitude, during his periods of
song is most entertaining. The House Sparrow is
another familiar bird of the farm and garden. Un-
fortunately he is far too common for most farmers,
especially in the vicinity of large towns and villages;
and the way these pilfering birds will thresh out
a field of wheat or oats is literally surprising.
Friends of the Sparrow, usually utterly ignorant of
its habits and the serious mischief it can do, cannot
understand the farmers’ indignation, and are always
protesting against its wanton slaughter. But then
there is reason in all things, and in grain-growing
districts the bird should be kept down. The boy
with his clappers amongst the corn may, if he con-
scientiously sticks to his work (and this rarely hap-
pens), keep the vast flocks of Sparrows on the move,
but the birds will gorge themselves with grain mean-

164 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

time; whilst shooting round the fields is little more
effective, for the feathered thieves soon desert the
hedge-sides and settle in the centre of the crops,
where it is next to impossible to dislodge them,
or to alarm them by repeated discharges of the gun.
The Sparrow nuisance is philosophically endured by
many farmers, and regarded, like the weather, as
beyond their control. In some cases we have known
farmers absolutely cease growing corn at all because
the birds take such a large proportion of the crop!
Here the usefulness of the Sparrow-hawk becomes
only too apparent, but the keepers shoot that bird
down—every one they can reach—and the Sparrows
have things all their own way.

There are many other birds of the Finch tribe
frequenting farm and garden. The Chaffinch, one
of the handsomest of all, is also one of the commonest,
and his sprightly song is one of the most cheering
harbingers of spring the fields can boast. The re-
sumption of song by the Chaffinch offers an inter-
esting contrast between the habits of individuals of
the same species in northern and southern shires
respectively. In Yorkshire the music of this bird
is seldom or never heard before the first week in
March; in Devonshire it is familiar enough in the
early days of February, and may sometimes be
detected towards the close of January—a remarkable
instance of the effect of climate upon avine song.

In Farm and Garden. 165

Another thing we have remarked in this species,
and that is its much handsomer nests in Yorkshire
than in Devonshire. We never found much garni-
ture of paper, lichen, and cocoons on nests in the
latter county; in fact, the faculty of mimicry does

geo

The Brambling.

not seem so pronounced in these southern indi-
viduals. During winter the northern shires are in-
vaded by vast flocks of Chaffinches, presumably from
continental areas. Upon their first appearance in
November these flocks are almost entirely composed
of males; the females arrive later, and before the
winter is over the sexes are more or less intermixed.
The Brambling, of course, we have as a winter
visitor only. We have repeatedly remarked the

166 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

regularity with which this bird returns to certain
winter quarters. For years and years we have
known flocks to arrive in November—practically
about the same time as the migratory Chaffinches—
and take up their quarters in certain woods and
shrubberies, where they used nightly to roost
throughout the winter, spending the day on the sur-
rounding open fields. Redwings also frequented
the same places in similar large companies, the
natural inference being that all these birds were from
the same continental localities, and followed the same
route inland from the coast, although the latter birds
were always the first to appear towards the end of
October. The Bullfinch we have always with us,
but in small and apparently decreasing numbers.
For this the rascally bird-catcher is largely to blame.
To the naturalist there are few more irritating per-
sons than a bird-catcher. We would sooner tolcrate
a shooter, for he at least kills the bird and has done
with it, and the discharge of his gun at intervals
makes the birds alert and wary. But the bird-
catcher by his sly insinuating methods will carry off
a dozen birds where a gunner might not get more
than one. He is at his nefarious business carly and
late in a certain spot so long as he knows a single
bird worth catching remains in it. His nets close
upon all birds alike—birds he prizes and birds he
cares nothing about, cocks and hens and young

In Farm and Garden. 167

indiscriminately; all are caged and carried off, to a
worse fate by far, in most instances, than sudden
dissolution from a shot-gun. It is true the bird-
catcher must ply his wretched business with due
regard to an all too brief close time; but this in not
a few cases he ignores, and thus still further consti-
tutes himself the scourge of the fields and hedgerows.
We invariably remarked that Bullfinches retired to
the cover of shrubberies and gardens to breed.
During the remainder of the year they kept to the
hedgerows, especially such as contained plenty of
weeds beside them, almost invariably in pairs, one
bird trooping in undulating flight after the other, and
both made very conspicuous by the white rump.
The Hawfinch was much rarer. This shy bird loves
the small plantations, but in fruit time comes into
the gardens near its usual haunts. We should class
it as perhaps the most local of the Finches (with the
possible exception of the Siskin) in the northern
shires of England, whilst north of these it seems
almost everywhere to be a winter visitor only.
During winter flocks of Crossbills are occasionally
met with, but they are no common feature of the
bird-life of farm and garden in Yorkshire or Derby-
shire. The Tree Sparrow is another very local and
uncommon species, and especially during the breed-
ing season. We have records of odd nests made in
holes in trees on some of the farms, but we find it

168 Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

more frequent in wilder localities. In winter it
sometimes visits the farmyards, and we have noticed
it mingled with flocks of Lesser Redpoles on the
stubbles and clover fields in late autumn. The
Linnet, with its close allies the Twite and the
Lesser Redpole, are familiar winter visitors to the
fields, wandering about in flocks, each usually com-
posed of a single species. As we have already seen,
the Twite is a common bird in summer upon the
moors; in autumn it leaves them in companies for
the fields. In its habits the Linnet is very similar.
All the winter through large flocks — sometimes
numbering many hundreds of birds—resort to cer-
tain weed-grown pastures and stubbles, where they
spend most of the day upon the ground in never-
ending quest of tiny seeds. If alarmed, they rise
somewhat in straggling order, but quickly bunch
together and resort to some tree-top, from which
they again descend in scattered numbers. Their
twittering chorus whilst in the trees is very remark-
able, and the observer will note that this becomes
much more musical and prolonged as the spring
approaches. The birds then quit the fields and
retire to the higher ground gorse coverts and roughs
near the moors where they breed. The Lesser
Redpole, to our mind, is the most charming of the
three. It is, of course, most numerous on our York-
shire and Derbyshire farms during winter, when it

In Farm and Garden. 169

congregates upon them in flocks that frequent much
the same localities as the Linnets and Twites. But
it is not exclusively confined to these spots, as we
shall see in a later chapter (conf. p. 189). Many odd
pairs of Redpoles linger behind on these northern
farms to breed, making their exquisite little cup-
shaped nest in the hedges towards the end of May.
This pretty nest, combined with the short pleasing
song of the male bird, and the utter trustfulness of
both sexes, summer and winter alike, endear the
Redpole to us in a way that few other species do.
It is decidedly a bird of the northern shires, becom-
ing rarer and more local through the midlands, and
only breeding here and there farther south. Both
Goldfinch and Greenfinch also require passing notice.
The former bird is another that has been almost
exterminated by the rascally bird-catcher; still, it is
observed in sufficient numbers to render it familiar
in many a garden and hedgerow. Perhaps they are
most frequently remarked during winter, when, in
pairs, they love to haunt the weed-grown wastes and
the sides of the fields where thistles and docks are
abundant. The Greenfinch is much more common,
but here again we remark a change of habitat with
the season, the birds quitting the open fields for
shrubberies and gardens as the breeding season ap-
proaches. Notwithstanding this, however, a good
many nests are made in the hedges in the fields, in

170 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

the whitethorn by preference. We have also found
many nests of this Finch placed at high elevations
in elm-trees, especially about the farm lands. Occa-
sionally a Siskin may be remarked in company with
Redpoles on the stubbles and wild weed-grown pas-
tures, but as a rule this engaging little species con-
fines itself to the trees along the river-side during its
winter sojourn in Yorkshire, and there we shall meet
with it in the following chapter. Some of these
Finches, those that breed within the limits of farm
and garden, betake themselves to the fields of mow-
ing grass in June, the House Sparrow especially;
and then when the hay is cut or the wheat and oats
are sufficiently forward they pass on to the corn-
fields to renew their depredations.

From the Finches to the Buntings is not a very
great stride in avine classification, and the latter
birds are common enough upon the farm. That is
to say, a single species only, during summer, namely,
the Yellow Bunting. The Cirl Bunting is absent
from the northern shires, and the Common Bunting
is far more local than his name suggests, occurring
most frequently in the maritime localities. In winter
we have the Snow Buntings in localized flocks upon
the fields, very capricious in their appearance, and
sometimes not being seen for several years in succes-
sion. We can recall a very large flock of these
Buntings that frequented some pasture fields at End-

In Farm and Garden. 171

cliffe, quite close to grimy Sheffield, but unfortunately
they were sadly reduced in numbers by local gunners
during the winter of their stay. The Reed Bunting
also visits the farm during this season, and we have
from time to time detected them amongst the ricks
with Sparrows and other hard-billed birds in severe
weather. The Yellow Bunting, however, is the one
familiar Bunting of the farm in most parts of York-
shire and Derbyshire. It is one of our showiest
native birds, and, as is usually the case, what it gains
in colour it loses in melody. There are few bird-
songs of the field and hedgerows more monotonous
than that of the “ Yoldring”, as the Yorkshire lads
call him, and yet the oft-repeated refrain has a genuine
ring of spring about it. This song usually commences
about the beginning of March in the north of Eng-
land, but in the southern counties it is not unfrequent
in February, another instance of climatic influence.
We all of us know the yellow-crowned musician,
sitting on the top of the hedge or in some wayside
tree, trilling his simple lay; we most of us know his
rustic nest on the bank of the hedgerow, and his mate's
four or five curiously-scrawled eggs—a_ peculiarity
which has gained for him the local name of “ Writ-
ing Lark” in not a few country places. There are
also many birds of the Thrush tribe to be met with
in farm and garden—indeed every British species
might be included, if we except the Ring-ouzel; but

172 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

even that one is occasionally seen on the meadows
and about the fruit-gardens on its way to and from
the moors where it breeds. Song Thrush and
Missel-thrush and Blackbird frequent almost every
hedge and field at one time of the year or another,
nesting commonly in these places, the Stormcock
showing the only partiality for the trees. Then in
autumn—in October—comes the Redwing from
Scandinavian fell and forest, followed in November
(sometimes as early as mid October) by the Field-
fare from the same far northern lands, both species
frequenting farm and garden alike, the former delight-
ing in the wet meadows and grass-lands, the latter
showing a stronger preference for the hawthorns,
holly-bushes, and other berry-bearing trees. By the
end of September the Missel-thrush has gathered
into flocks of considerable size. But this gregarious-
ness is continued for scarcely three months, and
for the remainder of the winter the birds live in
pairs or small parties, or attach themselves to com-
panies of Fieldfares. We find a marked differ-
ence in the duration of the melody of the Song
Thrush between birds inhabiting the northern and
southern shires. In Devonshire, for example, this
Thrush warbles throughout the year, except during
the moult; in Yorkshire it may be heard to sing in
September (chiefly young birds), and occasionally in
October, but during the three succeeding months it

Ln Farm and Garden. 73

remains mute, resuming its song the following
February. It is interesting to remark that the Black-
bird in both northern and southern shires does not
regain its song after the moult until the following
February, and even then, in both latitudes, it is by
no means a regular or a constant singer before March.
Indeed the Song Thrush is to a very great extent
migratory in the northern shires, its place being
partially taken by the Redwing. In South York-
shire, as I remarked twenty years ago, the birds
are almost all gone early in November. They re-
turn, sometimes in companies, by the end of January
or the beginning of February. There is also a very
marked decrease in the number of Blackbirds in the
late autumn, the birds reappearing early in February.
Possibly some of the Song Thrushes migrate into
the south-western counties, and to this fact is due
the exceptional abundance of this species in Devon-
shire during winter.

Leaving the hedgerows and the trees for a time
we shall find the hay-meadows contain several in-
teresting birds. One of the most easily recognized
of these is the Whinchat, a bird that is somewhat
rare and local in the south-western counties, but
widely and commonly dispersed over the northern
shires of England; in Scotland it again becomes
somewhat local. We usually detect it clinging to
some tall dock plant, meadow-sweet, or stem of cow-

174. Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

parsley, where it sits and utters a sharp double note,
resembling the syllables z-¢ac, at intervals, jerking
its tail meanwhile. Its mate may be seen sitting in

re ee

when disturbed they flit from stalk to stalk about the
field. These birds are only seen in England during
ummer; they arrive in the southern counties about

e of April, but do not reach the south

[In Farm and Garden. 175

Yorkshire hay-meadows before the end of the month
or even the first week in May. ‘Their pretty nest is
snugly hidden amongst the long meadow grass, a
simple structure of dry grass, lined with a few horse-
hairs, and the half-dozen eggs are turquoise - blue,
with just the faintest indication of a zone of pale-
brown spots round the end. Incidentally we may
remark that the Whinchat is also a frequenter of
the gorse coverts and the moorlands. In the late
summer, when the brood and parents are about the
fields, they resort to the corn, and even feed upon it;
but the farmer need not be alarmed at their visits
to the grain, for they destroy a countless number of
injurious insects during their stay in the fields as an
ample recompense. A Whinchat we once dissected,
shot on the 29th of April, was crammed with small
beetles, ants, larvee of the drake-fly, and several
centipedes. In July and August the Whinchat is

moulting, and by the third week in September it has

g,
departed with its young to the south, although it
prolongs its stay into October in Devonshire. These
smiling meadows and grain-fields are also the summer
home of the Tree Pipit, from April onwards to
September. This species also rears its young in a
slight nest amongst the grass, the cock bird spending
most of his time before the eggs are hatched in a
series of song flights from some favourite tree. We

knew a Tree Pipit to return for many years in succes-

176 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

sion to a sapling oak growing in a hedgerow, and to
use one special branch from which to soar and sing
throughout the early summer. These birds also
frequent the corn-fields, and eat the soft milky grain,
but their usual food consists of insects, worms, and
grubs.

Another well-known summer visitor to the mea-
dows and corn-lands is the Landrail, known almost
as generally as the Corncrake. Few persons there
are that do not know the rasping, monotonous double
cry of this bird, and yet few people ever see a Corn-
crake all their lives, and still fewer, perhaps, could
describe or identify it. Its note is almost as familiar
as that of the Cuckoo, and equally characteristic of
spring and early summer. There is something ro-
mantic about this rasping cry, that sounds almost all
night long from the meadow grass. The bird itself
is rarely seen, it runs through the dense herbage
with astonishing rapidity, and should it by chance
disclose itself to our scrutiny, it is seldom imprudent
enough to repeat the action. And yet the Corn-
crake is not quite such a skulking bird as some would
make him. When all is quiet he not unfrequently
wanders out of the hay-meadow through the hedge
into the barer pasture beyond, sometimes running
a score of yards into the open field; but at the least
alarm he is off back again and soon concealed
amongst the weeds and long grass in the bottom of

Ln Farm and Garden. 7 y

the hedge. Rarely indeed is he flushed even by the
aid of dogs; we have known him perch on the top
of a thick low hedge when put up by a collie. He
flies slowly and in a somewhat laboured way, with
his long legs dangling down, and all his efforts seem
directed into reaching cover of some kind. The hay
harvest in July is a cause of much disturbance to
the Corncrake. As the mowers or the more modern
mowing-machine lay swathe after swathe of tall
grass its haunts become more and more restricted;
the brooding Crake at last slips quietly off her nest
alarmed at the approaching scythes or rattle of the
machine, until at last her home with its numerous
eggs is left bare and desolate. We have known her
to remove her eggs in the course of a night and
place them amongst still standing grass, but the end
eventually was just the same. Probably this destruc-
tion of nests during hay harvest is responsible for
the diminishing numbers of this species in not a few
districts. But if the cutting of the grass brings ruin
to some birds it also brings an abundance of food
to others. These are the Thrushes and Starlings that
may then be seen on the shorn fields busily in quest
of snails and worms. The Corncrake calls no
longer; perhaps the old birds retire to the clover,
the standing corn, or even to the turnip and potato
fields, and about these places they skulk for the re-

mainder of their stay, and then return broodless to
(M618) M

178 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

the south. No wonder their return in spring seems
to be in fewer and fewer numbers. The Sky-lark is
more fortunate. It breeds in much the same localities
as the Corncrake, but nests earlier, so that the young
are generally able to fly before the mowers enter the
fields. Speaking of Sky-larks we may mention that
large flocks of this bird appear upon certain suitable
fields in the late autumn, remaining throughout the
winter. These birds are from the Continent, and
come to our isles in that vast tide of migration that
sets westwards across Europe from the far East in
October and November. The birds always prefer
high ground, and we have remarked this choice in
the southern counties as well, and seldom wander
far from a district during their stay, except under the
pressure of continued snow-storms. They invari-
ably return to the usual haunts when the ground is
clear again.

At least two species of Wagtails are common birds
upon the fields and pastures of the northern shires.
The Pied Wagtail is perhaps the most familiar, al-
though both this bird and the Yellow Wagtail are
more or less migratory. Perhaps these birds are
most interesting when they congregate in large num-
bers upon the ploughed fields in March, and run to
and fro with dainty steps about the heels of the
ploughman and his team. We knew an old farmer
who had a special liking for these pretty birds. He

In Farm and Garden. 179

knew they lived entirely on insects, worms, and such-
like creatures, without professing any knowledge of
ornithology. Indeed, we well remember when the
old boy heard that we had just published our first
book on bird-life, Aural Bird-life: being Essays on

f ry

The Yellow Wagtail.

Ornithology, how he paused one day at his work in
the fields and solemnly put the question: ‘Charley,
what is this ‘Ornithowlogy’; is it a new religion?”
We confess to feeling fairly nonplussed at such a
remark, and did our best to tell him, with as serious
a look as we could command, the proper meaning of
the awful word. Poor old White, at a ripe age, has
been gathered to his fathers. He was one of the
most tolerant and philosophic farmers that we ever
met, and we dwell thus affectionately upon his
memory; for we were always welcome, boy and man,

180 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

to wander about his land at all times and seasons
without let or hindrance, and study the birds upon it
to our heart’s content. But to return to the Wagtails.
The Yellow Wagtail is the most closely attached to
the fields and pastures of the two; it may often be
seen running amongst the cattle, and is a numerous
visitor to the fallows in March. Both in spring and
autumn Wagtails gather into flocks and migrate thus
together. The Pied Wagtail is very fond of nesting
in a hole in the wall of some outbuilding, and will
tenant one spot with great regularity season after
season. The Yellow Wagtail is perhaps the least
aquatic in its habits, as the Gray Wagtail is the most.
Both Magpies and Jays are also very frequently
observed upon the fields searching for worms and
grubs; whilst the fleet-winged Swallows and Martins
during their summer sojourn fly over many times
every acre of the farm, and, as most readers know,
are extremely fond of rearing their broods in or on
the buildings attached thereto. We never met a
farmer who would allow these birds to be molested.
Happy birds! They at least are secure in the
farmers’ friendship, and not even the gamekeeper
can say a word against them. The Cuckoo is much
less fortunate in this respect; the farmer, we honestly
believe, has a genuine love for the bird, and delights
to hear its loud and happy voice across his fields, for
it tells him that winter is passed, and that better

In Farm and Garden. 181

times are approaching both for man and beast. The
gamekeeper knocks it over with an oath, and fills its
tuneful yellow bill with blood, because it not only
looks like a Hawk, but he is “sartin sure” that it
turns into one for the winter!

The turnip fields in autumn are always a favourite
resort of birds. They are not only the last of the
cover left upon the farm, but they abound with food
for various species especially. They are the one
spot where the migrant Pipits, Thrushes, and even
Warblers can always be certain of a meal, to say
nothing of an odd Woodcock now and then and the
last lingering coveys of Partridges. Even in winter
the birds are fond of such a retreat. On many
farms the turnips are left in the ground—especially
the white variety—until they are wanted for the
cattle; the ground is soft and moist, and abounds
with food the small birds desire, whilst the broad
leaves are a shelter.

Then in late autumn the Jack Snipe once more
appears upon the few square yards of bog beside the
pond where the cattle drink, or in the sunk fences
which usually become rills during the wetter portions
of the year. This little bird, we know, breeds upon
the Scandinavian fells, and yet it will return winter
after winter to the very centre of England to some
square yard of bog on a South Yorkshire farm, com-
ing and going so quietly that no man may say exactly

182 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

when it arrives or departs, and living here for months
in this warm corner in the fields, in solitary state,
a recluse waxing fat in its solitude. Then winter
comes round once more. All the summer birds of
farm and garden are far beyond the seas; new birds
are here from other and sterner lands. The snow-
storms come, and the birds congregate in rich variety
about the ricks and farmsteads; flocks of Lapwings
cross over the fields bewildered and forlorn; the
Moorhen leaves the frozen pond and fraternizes with
the poultry; the Larks disappear from the snow-
drifted high lands; the Fieldfares congregate in the
hawthorns, the Redwings starve. At night the
scene becomes even more interesting as half-frozen
birds seek roosting-places in the ricks and amongst
the ivy; yet amidst frost and snow the Robin and
the Wren, and perhaps the Hedge Accentor, carol
forth an evening song. The snow melts; the once
green pastures are brown and withered; scarcely a
fleck of green relieves field or hedgerow, the birds
scatter on to the open ground again, and so the
northern winter runs its course. How different in
the warmer southern county, where all is green, and
the visit of winter so light that it is scarcely felt by
bird or beast!

Garden bird-life is too familiar to require much
detailed notice here. The garden hedge we know
is always sure to contain one of the first Hedge

Ln Farm and Garden. 183

Accentors’ nests of the year; whilst the Wren is as
certain to select the ivy on the wall in which to
construct her ball-like abode. The Robin as surely
returns each spring to rear its young in some hole
in the wall itself. Amongst the fruit trees the
Titmice and Flycatchers have their favourite nooks
and crannies, and the Redstart has returned as long
as we can remember to the hole in the old pear-tree.
One bird, however, that frequents the gardens of
the northern shires is specially interesting to South
Yorkshire naturalists. This is the Garden Warbler;
and its exceptional interest centres in the fact that
the bird was first described from an example obtained
near Sheffield—possibly in the immediate neighbour-
hood of Broom Hall—and sent by Francis Jessop
to Willughby, the co-worker with Ray nearly a
century and a half ago, the latter naturalist de-
scribing it in his Ornzthologia. It is the “ Petti-
chaps” of Latham, a name, according to Professor
Newton, that had not become obsolete in 1873 in
the vicinity of Sheffield, although we never heard
of it being applied to this species during a resi-
dence there of some twenty years. It is a late
migrant, seldom reaching its Yorkshire haunts before
the beginning of May, and, as its name implies, 1s
very partial to large gardens. Its habits somewhat
closely resemble those of the Blackcap; and of all
the Warbler band its song is only inferior to that of

184 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

this species. Its nest is frequently made in a
currant or gooseberry bush, a flimsy little structure
enough, made of dry grass stalks and roots and
lined with horse-hair. The eggs are very similar
to those of the Blackcap, and four or five in number.
During fruit time this Warbler is often to be met
with in the garden feeding upon currants and other
berries. It is most secretive in its habits, usually
betraying its whereabouts by its sharp call-note of
tec or fac. Its food consists of insects, larva, and
most kinds of soft fruit and berries. It leaves
Yorkshire in September. There are many other
birds that visit the gardens in the northern shires
for fruit or vegetable food. In cherry time the
Blackbird and the Starling are troublesome enough;
the Ring-ouzel visits the gardens near the moors
for a similar purpose. Then the Hawfinch and the
Jay have a great weakness for green peas; whilst
the small Finches play havoc amongst the newly-
sown beds. Kestrel and Sparrow-hawk, however,
often visit such localities too, the former for mice,
the latter for birds.

Before finally leaving the farmstead we ought
to give a passing word to the Barn Owl. This
bird is not so abundant now in many places as was
formerly the case, but it must still be regarded as
common in most parts of the northern shires.
There are not a few farmers, we are glad to say,

Ln Farm and Garden. 185

who fully recognize the merits of this useful bird,
worth more than half a dozen cats in any farmstead,
and requiring no keep whatever. These birds are
specially fond of the tall-roofed barns where nothing
intervenes between the rafters and the slates or tiles,
where little daylight ever enters, and where ready
means of getting out and in are presented. There
are farms where the Owl is quite an institution, where
no one ever thinks of molesting it, and where its
peculiar noises and nightly wanderings create not the
least curiosity. In fact, the bird is regarded as part
and parcel of the barns, a useful adjunct to the cats
and village rat-catcher, and a good many times more
effective in ridding buildings and land of some of
their most annoying pests. We need scarcely state
that the Swift is a well-known summer visitor to
farm and farmstead. We shall have occasion to
allude to this bird again in a future chapter (conf.

Pp 271).

CHAPTER Wil:

BY RIVER AND POOL.

ROADLY speaking, the northern shires are
remarkably well-watered; not only by a net-
work of rivers, but by an almost endless succession
of pools and lakes, canals and dams, the latter to
some extent being due to the necessities of the vast
and busy centres of manufacture and commerce.
Bird-life in great variety and of exceptional interest
is to be found upon these rivers and pools and along
their banks and margins, and again presenting us
with not a little room for comparison with that
frequenting similar localities in more southern coun-
ties. Here again we miss some birds that are
familiar farther south; we find others that are rarer,
or less known there. Unfortunately too many of
these northern waters are polluted, especially in their
lower reaches and in the immediate neighbourhood
of towns, by drainage and factory refuse of various
kinds. Rivers that run in their higher reaches over
moss-grown stones and sandy beds, clear as crystal,
and fringed on either bank with brushwood and
timber, become little more than open sewers as they
pass the big centres of manufacturing life. The

By River and Pool. 187

waters are stained as with ochre from the filthy
‘wheel swarf”, and poisoned with refuse from dyes
and sundry chemicals. Yet even in these forbidding
places bird-life is not altogether absent, and from
time to time Wagtails, Pipits, and such-like species
may be remarked on passage even in the centre of
so grimy a place as Sheffield. Above the towns
where the water still runs clear, and some miles
below them where the sediment has settled and the
water again become more purified, these canals and
rivers are favourite haunts of birds. ‘Then far away
amidst rural scenes there are many meres and clear
pools where Nature vis still undefiled by man; in
some of the suburban areas there are clear still mill-
dams, which drive the grinding wheels, and which
are yet so pure that trout live in them in abun-
dance.

Now, even about such a prosaic spot as a mill-
dam there is usually not a little to interest the lover
of birds. That refulgent avine gem, the Kingfisher,
is a frequent haunter of the shuttles, and the dyke
just above and below the sluice. We have seen this
bird perch on a branch sticking out of the shallow
water at the far end of a mill-dam and plunge again
and again into the pool in chase of minnows, and
not fifty yards away a dozen sturdy Sheffield grinders
were hard at work astride their stones in the hull

which resounded with the fitful deafening roar and

188 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

screech as the metal met the grindstones so familiar
to such a spot. Where the horsetail reeds grow
up in a dense forest of dark-green from out the

The Kingfisher.

shallow parts of the mill-dam, the Moorhen is
often common enough, and rears its young from a
floating nest some distance from the bank where
only boats can reach it. This latter species is much
more familiar than the Kingfisher, and it is astonish-

By River and Pool. 189

ing how the Moorhen will continue to haunt such
a spot long after the entire aspect of it has been
changed. We know of dams, once surrounded by
gardens and fields, now almost hidden by houses
and workshops, where this bird still lingers and
breeds every year, amidst a never-ceasing din from
water-driven tilts and forges. The series of dams in
the Endcliffe Valley, one following the other through
a succession of picturesque woods, and united by a
broad stream, all situated in the western suburbs of
Sheffield, were a very favoured haunt of birds. There
can be little doubt that a century and a half ago
Francis Jessop used to search this valley for orni-
thological information; from that day to this not a
few of the birds that are intimately associated with
his name continue to frequent the place. Here may
the Kingfisher be watched, gliding like a spot of
blue across the water and up the wooded stream,
which is a favourite resort of the Gray Wagtail.
Then the fringe of alders by many of these York-
shire pools and rivers is a favourite resort of Tit-
mice, Redpoles, and Siskins. Nowhere in the
northern shires does the alder flourish better than
here; its wood is used to make the clogs—or wooden-
soled shoes—so universally worn by the mill hands,
colliers, and poorer classes of Lancashire and York-
shire. During its growth, here by the river-side, its
seeds are a great attraction to these little birds. The

190 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Siskin is one of the most interesting of them. We
often met with it in company with Redpoles, espe-

Titmice.

cially in many parts of South Yorkshire, which
locality it visits during winter. We never found a

By River and Pool. 191

nest in the county, although we believe the Siskin
has been known to breed therein, as well as in many
other counties farther south. As previously re-
marked, the favourite summer home of the Siskin is
the pine-woods of Scotland. Very engaging these
birds are in the alder-trees, as they cling in almost
every possible attitude and pick out the seeds.
They also visit the birch-trees in the same localities,
and here they are sometimes joined by a company of
Bramblings. These larger and heavier-looking birds
are equally at home amongst the long slender twigs,
hanging head downwards like a Tit or a Goldcrest,
and swaying to and fro like animated pendulums, all
the time keeping up a chorus of twittering notes.
Possibly the Brambling is a life-paired species, for
we have often witnessed various little marks of
affection between the sexes during winter. The
‘Titmice are equally engaging. Five out of the half-
dozen British species may be met with singly in
parties or in mixed companies amongst the alders
and birches along the river-side, each one with its
characteristic note and all with the acrobat-like ways
that ever make them so amusing. These remarks
more specially relate to autumn and winter; in spring
they scatter far and wide to less riparian haunts to
rear their young in spots that fancy or necessity
requires.

In autumn many of these mill-dams are recognized

192 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

gathering-places of birds of the Swallow tribe. In
August and September Swallows and Martins in
countless hosts congregate over them, flitting to and
fro in a mazy throng the livelong day, preying upon
the swarms of gnats and midges hovering above the
surface. These birds are thus forgathering where
they have been wont to do for many previous
autumns previous to starting off to a winter haunt in
Africa. Then in winter not a few shyer and rarer
birds are attracted to these open sheets of water,
Ducks and Geese and even Wild Swans paying
them visits as they roam about the country. There
is a fine example of Bewick’s Swan in the Weston
Park Museum at Sheffield, which was shot from a
mill-dam close to the town, an exceptionally favoured
spot, for Ducks and various other strange fowl are
by no means rare visitors during the winter months.
Our sombre little friend, the Sand Martin, loves
these dams and reservoirs, and delights to tunnel
into the steep banks to make its nest. Numbers of
Sand Martins so do at the reservoirs at Hollow
Meadows, for instance. The Pied Wagtail delights
in such spots, tripping daintily round the water's
edge in quest of insects, and building its nest in some
hole in a wall or about the hulls. We have seen
the nest of this species in a crevice of the masonry
supporting the heavy cumbersome water-wheel, and
not many inches from it, with its continuous splash

By River and Pool. 193

and roar. Now and then such an unusual bird as a
Stormy Petrel or a Gull visits them; whilst during
migration time in spring and autumn the Ringed
Plover, the Dunlin, the Wigeon, the Teal, and the
Pochard are all known to alight occasionally near or
upon the dams and reservoirs of South Yorkshire.
Coots, Water Rails, and Spotted Crakes either fre-
quent some of them all the year round or visit them
from time to time.

The bird-life along our canal banks if somewhat
sparse is by no means uninteresting. In rural dis-
tricts one of the most familiar species is the Reed-
bunting—not inaptly named by some observers a
“Riverside Bunting”. We can recall how very
common this bird was along the water-side and
about the towing-paths of the canal just outside
Walton Park, once the famous seat of Charles
Waterton, the old-time Yorkshire naturalist. The
bird is by no means a shy or a timid one. It will
sit and await your approach, watching you with un-
easy flicks of its tail as it clings to some willow twig
or reed stem, then start off in dipping flight for a
little way to wait again. Finally, as likely as not, it
returns to its original haunt, flitting just above the
surface. The cock bird is readily identified by the
black head and throat, and white cheeks: in the hen
these parts are reddish-brown streaked with darker

brown. Its song is very similar to that of the better-
(1618) N

194 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

known Yellow Bunting, consisting of a double note
several times repeated and finishing up with a short
spluttering trill. In Yorkshire this song commences
early in April, sometimes at the end of March, and
continues into the late summer, when the moult
arrests it. During winter this Bunting often wan-
ders from the water-side, and then we have seen it
in the stackyards, but at no time of the year is it
ever so gregarious as the Yellow or Cirl Buntings.
Flocks of this bird have been recorded from Red-
car towards the end of September, and there is other
evidence to suggest that our resident individuals are
increased in numbers by migrants from the Continent.
The first nests of the year are usually made by the
end of April, and are placed on or near the ground,
amongst a tuft of rushes or amongst the dense
vegetation on the banks of the canal or pool. Ex-
ternally these are made of dry grass, moss, and scraps
of aquatic vegetation; inside they are lined with
finer grass and hair. The eggs are from four to six
in number, olive or buff in ground colour, streaked
and spotted with purplish brown and gray. It is
worthy of remark, however, that the intricate pencil-
ling so prominent a feature in the eggs of the
Yellow Bunting are absent, the lines being shorter
and broader and the spots larger and rounder. One
might fancy that they had been put on with a quill
rather than with a steel pen. Both Pied and Gray

By River and Pool. 195

Wagtails are familiar objects on the towing-path;
whilst among the vegetation near the water the
Sedge Warbler has its summer home. This latter bird
arrives here in April and leaves again in September.
The Reed Warbler is much more local in Yorkshire,
although it is known to breed at Hornsea Mere and
one or two other places. In the back-waters of the
canals, amongst the reeds and flags, both Coots and
Moorhens have their residence, whilst the Little
Grebe, if not quite so familiar, owing to its more
skulking habits, is by no means rare. It is rather
surprising what small pools of water will in some
cases content a pair of these amusing little birds,
whilst it is equally noteworthy how often this species
is entirely overlooked. Possibly their alertness and
partiality for cover to some extent explains it. Least
showy, as they are the smallest, of all the British
Grebes, they are often mistaken for a rat or even
a fish; certainly they are as much at home in the
water as the latter. Towards the end of March
they build a bulky floating nest among the flags and
rushes, composed of dead and rotten stalks matted
and heaped together, the half-dozen white eggs
(stained brown almost as soon as laid) resting in a
shallow hollow at the top. The marvellous celerity
with which the sitting bird covers her eggs with
weed when the nest is approached must be familiar
to every bird’s-nester. A great many of the chicks

196 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

are destroyed by hungry pike, and to this, perhaps,
must we attribute the fact of its seldom increasing
in numbers, even in localities where it is never other-
wise molested. As a rule the canals are too deep
to admit of birds obtaining much food from their
margins; but the insect life that flits over the surface
is sought by Swallow, Martin, and Swift.

We must include a brief visit to the fish-ponds
in the present chapter. There are many of these
scattered about the parks of our northern shires,
and not a few of them are frequented by birds in
plenty. Most readers will remember what a para-
dise for aquatic birds the lake at Walton Hall
became under the loving care of the famous old
Yorkshire naturalist; how the birds used to flock
there in winter and join the resident population that
dwelt in that valley of peace. And this, mind, at no
great distance from populous towns and villages, in
a country filled with collieries and workshops, crossed
by railways, and many miles from the coast. It only
shows what can be done if we encourage and protect
the birds that visit us. Many a picturesque old
fish-pond we can recall in Yorkshire and Derbyshire
—spots where the deep water teemed with fish, and
the big elms and horse-chestnut trees almost swept
the surface with their spreading branches, high up in
which the Rooks and Herons reared their young.
Amongst the clumps of iris and flag that grew so

By River and Pool. 197

luxuriantly in the shallows Coot and Moorhen made
their nests, and their broods of black downy chicks
might be seen paddling about the broad flat leaves
of the water-lily and the candock, or resting and
sunning themselves on the floating vegetation. The
steel-blue Swallows and Martins come from the
adjoining meadows and park to dart to and fro with
shrill twitter, and thread their way beneath the
drooping branches of the chestnuts gaily ornamented
with their noble spikes of fair yet evil-smelling
bloom, like miniature candelabra. The Herons
all day long fly up and down from their nests in the
tree-tops to and from the shallows, where the roach
are an easy prey. How stately the big gray birds
look standing so solemn in the shallows! With
what patience they wait and watch and finally strike,
sending that formidable spear-like bill into the
doomed fish, which is quickly disposed of with a
grunt of satisfaction! Now and then the Kingfisher’s
radiant beauty is reflected in the unruffled water as
he glides across; at intervals a shy Water-rail or a
Grebe sails timidly out from the rushes, dives at the
least alarm, and the scarcely-ruffled surface indicates
the quick return under water to the sheltering
greenery. In winter these ponds are often visited
by Wild Ducks, Wigeons, and Teals, with sometimes
much rarer fowl. Indeed, the very uncertainty of
what might be found was one of the greatest attrac-

198 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

tions of such a spot. Here also dwell the stately
Swans, half-domesticated it is true, yet none the
less ornamental for that. These birds mate for life,
and are apparently much attached to each other.
They always select the tiny islet in the pool for
their domestic arrangements; and on this in April
they construct a big nest of straw and sticks and
other rubbish, in which the hen bird lays her massive
pale-green eggs. At first the young birds are
brown and dingy looking; nor do they acquire that
pure white dress characteristic of their parents until
the following autumn.

In a previous chapter we dealt at some length
with the bird-life of Sherwood Forest. We will
now return to that area in order to make a brief
survey of the birds that frequent some of the pools
in the vicinity of the Dukeries, round about Clumber :
and Newstead. It would be difficult to find a more
suitable place for Ducks throughout the length and
breadth of England than some of the charming rush-
fringed ponds that are such a feature of this part of
Nottinghamshire. They afford plenty of cover and
food, not only the ponds themselves but the streams
and marshes by which many of them are joined
together, and above all they are well watched by
vigilant keepers, so that the birds are practically
safe from molestation during the nesting season.
Here may the habits of the Tufted Duck be studied

By River and Pool. 199

to perfection. ‘This bird is an old friend of ours;
we have seen much of it in more southern haunts,
especially during the non-breeding season. Most if
not all the Tufted Ducks leave Devonshire for more
northern haunts in spring, but in the Dukeries they

The Tufted Duck.

are to be seen throughout the year, apparently in
undiminished numbers. There can be little doubt,
we think, that this Duck pairs for life; certainly it
may be seen in company with its mate summer and
winter alike. During winter the birds are sociable
and gregarious, and the fact is not so readily re-
marked, but as spring draws on they separate more,
and from that time onwards to the laying season
live almost exclusively in pairs. The nesting season

200 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

of this Duck varies a good deal according to locality.
In southern haunts the duck commences to lay at
the end of April or early in May; in North Notts
the birds are at least two or three weeks later. The
nest is frequently made in a tuft or tussock of sedge,
amongst long grass, or beneath a small bush. It is
merely a hollow lined with a little dry vegetation,
but as the eight or ten eggs accumulate, the duck
surrounds them with a bed of down plucked from
her own body. These eggs are greenish-buff in
colour. Tufted Ducks are most expert divers, and
feed much towards evening, during the night, and
early in the morning. By day they may usually
be seen swimming lazily about, preening their
plumage, and now and then sleeping, as they float
buoyantly upon the water far out from shore. The
Mallard is also a common bird about these ponds
and pools. We have already seen that it not unfre-
quently nests far from water amongst the more open
parts of the grand old forest; but nevertheless a fair
number of birds frequent these pools for domestic
purposes. The Shoveler is also present, if in much
smaller numbers, and hides its very similar nest
in much the same sort of places. Its nine or ten
egos are, however, pale buffish-white, with a faint
tinge of olive. The tame and confiding little Teal
—smallest of all our British Ducks—is also a com-
mon resident in this district. We cannot say

By River and Pool. 201

whether the Pochard breeds here or not. We have
seen it during autumn and spring, perhaps on passage
only; but it certainly breeds in Yorkshire at Horn-
sea Mere, in the East Riding. We have also re-
marked several of the above-named species on the
beautiful ponds at Newstead Abbey, once the classic
home of Byron, during the early summer months,
so that some of them may breed in this immediate
neighbourhood.

Returning now to the rivers of our northern shires,
we will briefly glance at one or two birds that are
specially associated with such water-ways. Here in
Yorkshire, Dipper, Gray Wagtail, and Heron may
perhaps be the most familiar birds, but to our mind
the Kingfisher is the most distinguished, and from
some points of view the most interesting. We al-
ways think a special charm attaches to birds that
havea place in ancient history, or that are surrounded
by more or less classic legends and superstitions.
The Kingfisher is one of these. From the very
earliest times of which we possess any record, the
bird, for some reason that to the modern mind does
not seem always very clear, has figured largely in
myth and superstition. Some of these are by no
means wanting in poetic imagination. Legend, for
instance, accounts for the beautiful colour of its
plumage in the following amusing way: When the
Kingfisher was liberated from the Ark it was a

202 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

plain gray-plumaged bird, but flying towards the
sun it became of the same hue as the sky on its
upper parts, whilst its lower parts were scorched by
the solar rays to the chestnut tint they now are.
Fable is also curiously associated with the domestic
arrangements of the Kingfisher, mid-winter being
given as the date of its reproduction. Ovid tells us
that during this period Atolus, the god of wind,
exerted his influence, so that the tempests were
quieted and the sea remained calm, upon which the
floating nest might remain in safety for the seven
Halcyon Days. As old Shakespeare has it:
“This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise:
Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days”.
— Henry V.

We also find under the term Halcyon (another name
for the Kingfisher) in Minsben’s Decfronary the fol-
lowing quaint passage bearing on this fable: “A
bird called also Kingfisher, because she fisheth in
the sea, and casteth herself with such force at the
fishes. She conceiveth in the sea, and in it she

brings forth her young—and that in chill and cold

weather; and meanwhile the heaven is serene, and
the sea tranquil, nor agitated by troubles of winds.
Hence those serene days are called Halcyon-days.”
Superstition attributed to the Kingfisher not a few
virtues. For instance, Lupton, three hundred odd
years ago, ina book entitled 4 Thousand Notable

By River and Pool. 203

Things, &c., writes: “A little bird called the King’s
fisher, being hanged up in the air by the neck, his
neb or bill will be always direct or straight against
the wind. This was told me for a very truth by one
that knew it by proof, as he said.” Possibly the
superstition widely prevailed at that remote date, as
four years later Storer, in his Lzfe and Death of
Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal, gives it thus:

“As a Halcyon with her turning breast
Demonstrates wind from wind, and east from west”.

Marlowe (/ew of AZalta, i. 1) has another rendering
of the superstition, thus:

“But now how stands the wind?

Into what corner peers my Halcyon’s bill?

Ha! To the East? Yes! See, how stand the vanes?

East and by south.”
It is interesting to remark that the quaint old super-
stition is not quite dead, even at the close of the
nineteenth century! We have on more than one
occasion come across country people in Yorkshire
and Derbyshire who have assured us that the dead
body of the Kingfisher, if hung up by a thread, will
turn its beak in the direction of the wind then pre-
vailing. Mummified Kingfishers were also believed
to be a charm against thunderbolts, and also a pre-
servative against clothes-moths. Professor Newton
informs us in his Decteonary of Birds that in many
islands of the Pacific Ocean the indigenous King-

204. Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

fisher (of various species) is an object of much vene-
ration.

Surely after these few extracts from some of the
many legends in which the Kingfisher is involved
the gem-like bird acquires a greater interest as we
watch it passing like a gleam of blue light along the
river. Even in our own day there is not a little
fiction and absurdity gathered round the nesting
habits of the Kingfisher. We are told that the bird
is careful to make a nest of fish-bones for its eggs;
this is a widely prevailing idea among persons who
should know better, such as keepers, fishermen, and
bird-nesting boys, for their experience is generally
personal. Perhaps appearances have fostered, if
they have not absolutely originated this belief. The
Kingfisher pairs for life, and returns in most cases
to the same place to nest season after season. ‘This
nest is usually in a hole, in many cases in a steep
bank overhanging the river, and generally excavated
by the birds themselves. Very often, however, a rat’s
hole will be selected and various trifling alterations
made to suit the new tenant. The hole almost invari-
ably slopes upwards from the entrance, and is from
three to four feet in length, enlarged at the end into
a kind of chamber. The birds, it should be remarked,
resort to this hole to roost, and frequent it generally
long before the eggs are laid, so that a collection of
bones, decaying fish, and droppings accumulates in

By River and Pool. 205

the chamber. Upon these fish-bones the six or
eight pearly-white eggs are deposited, surrounded
in course of time by a heap of most offensive matter.
When the young are hatched the place becomes even
more filthy, owing to the increased amount of drop-
pings and the number of fish brought for their food.
We are not aware that more than one brood is reared
in the season, although several clutches of eggs will
be laid in the efforts to accomplish this, if the eggs
chance to be destroyed. Not a few persons believe
the Kingfisher to be mute; but this is not the case.
Its note is shrill, but not very loud, and resembles
the word fees, sometimes uttered several times in
quick succession. It is not, however, by any means
a garrulous bird, and usually flies along in silence.
By the way, we might mention that the Kingfisher
is by no means the only bird of gay plumage that as
it were fouls its own nest, for the Hoopoe, a hand-
some bird with a wonderful crest, possesses a nest
which, during the course of incubation, is rendered
filthy and obnoxious from the droppings of the female,
conditions which become worse when the young are
hatched. How different this from the cleanly habits
of the Starling, for instance, that conveys the drop-
pings of its young away most carefully, usually after
every visit with food.

As many of the rivers of the northern shires ap-
proach the sea they widen into estuaries, the shores

206 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

of which are the resort of a great variety of bird-life.
The Humber and the Tyne on the east coast, the
Solway, the Lune, the Ribble, and the Mersey on
the west coast of England are capital instances of
such. The mud-flats up to tidal limits, often extend-
ing many miles inland, are favourite feeding- places
of large numbers of wading birds, not only during
the two seasons of migration, but throughout the
winter months. In summer these places are more
or less uninviting; the birds are scattered far and
wide, not only over our own uplands and inland
waters, but beyond the seas on arctic tundras; in
early autumn the birds appear again in small num-
bers, and as that season advances become increas-
ingly numerous. When these birds of mud-flat and
sand-bank depart, little else is left but an occasional
Gull, or possibly a laggard wading bird or two that
from some reason or another have not migrated with
their companions. We might, however, mention that
in or near the beds of some of these northern rivers
the Ringed Plover breeds. In spring and autumn
companies of Terns hang about these estuaries; the
Sandwich, Common, Arctic, and Lesser Terns ap-
pear from the middle of April onwards; their return
is noticed during August and the first half of Sep-
tember. These dates are nearly coincident with
those at which we notice these birds in the Devon-

shire estuaries, save that in autumn the migration

By River and Pool. 207

continues into October, and during some years is
even prolonged into November. Sanderlings, Cur-
lew Sandpipers, and Knots, birds that migrate
amongst the latest in spring and breed in the high
north, are some of the first to reappear in autumn,
even at the end of July or early in August. Com-
mon Sandpipers, as their name suggests, are abun-
dant during their short stay at the mouths of these
northern rivers previous to passing south. In the
Humber district especially, vast flights of Dunlins
often appear upon the mud-flats towards the end of
August, and remain for the winter. When the rising
tide drives them from the muds, they often resort to
the fields to wait until the ebb. The movements
of these birds are most interesting, as a vast flock
wheels and spreads out or closes up with as much
precision as drilled troops. Scattered amongst them
are many odd Stints and Sanderlings and Ringed
Plovers. Curlews, Whimbrels, and Bar-tailed God-
wits also appear about these estuaries during migra-
tion time, and some of them remain upon them
throughout the winter. At the latter season Ducks
of various species are regular visitors. Some of these,
however, keep well off the land out at sea, only enter-
ing the river mouths during rough weather, or at
night for the purpose of feeding in the shallower
water. One of the most familiar, perhaps, is the
Scaup; the Pochard is another, with a much more

208 = =6 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

marked preference for rivers; the Pintail is a third.
Companies of Swans from time to time may be
observed, usually consisting of Whoopers, and much
more rarely of Bewick’s Swans.

During the migration season in spring, and more
especially in autumn, these northern river-valleys are
frequented by great numbers of land birds on their
way to more northern and eastern breeding-grounds
in Continental areas, or returning south and west to
winter in our islands or to cross over them to warmer
latitudes. These northern rivers are exceptionally
favourable for migration, so many of them trending
in the same general direction as the birds are bent
on following. Vast numbers of migrant small birds
follow such river-valleys as the Tees and the Hum-
ber, on their way into Yorkshire, Notts, and Derby-
shire, by way of the Don and its tributary streams.
It is unnecessary here to dwell upon these species
in detail, for we hope to go much deeper into the
matter when we come to a study of the migration
of birds in the northern shires. We have gathered
much evidence in support of this migration during a
residence of many years at no great distance from
the Humber and certain valleys in direct communi-
cation with that important estuary—next, perhaps,
in interest, so far as bird-life is concerned, to that
still more wonderful locality the Wash, a little lower

down the coast.

CHAPTER VE

ON SEA AND SHORE.

T is the bird-life of sea and shore especially that
renders these northern shires so much more
interesting than the littoral counties of the south
and west. Compared with these the southern coasts
seem tame and deserted, indeed. This is principally
due not only to the fact that so many marine species
breed in northern areas only, but also to the much
greater strength of migration generally along the
coasts. All along the coast from Lincolnshire north-
wards to the Firth of Forth, and onwards to the
Hebrides, St. Kilda, the Orkneys and the Shetlands,
we have vast and varied bird populations, not only
scattered up and down the shore, but congested here
and there where the sea-fowl in unnumbered hosts
congregate to rear their broods. The southern
counties present us with nothing approaching to this;
the wealth and variety of the marine avifauna of the
northern shires is one of the most pleasing of their
many characteristics.
For the sake of comparison we may here state
that along the entire coast-line of South Devon—

embracing some of the finest cliff scenery in Eng-
(M618) oO

210 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

land and full of sandy reaches, rolling downs, rocky
islets and stacks, and lengths of shingle and sand—
there are but two typical marine species (at most
three, if we include the doubtful Oyster-catcher) that
breed, and one only of these, the Herring Gull, in
any numbers; the other, the Ringed Plover, is local
and nowhere numerous! But how very different is
the case when we get round the English coast as far
as the Wash and enter that area which for the pur-
poses of the present work we describe as the northern
shires. Let us follow this line of varied coast, with
its alternating lengths of sand and shingle, buttress-
like cliffs, rocky shores, and islets round to the
Forth, and briefly glance at the several species that
frequent it and breed upon it in succession. We
will, however, leave for a future chapter the birds
that are more strictly confined to the sea cliffs, and
deal with those only that nest either along the flat
shores or low rocky islands.

The first two species that we shall meet with
during summer on the sandy reaches of the Lincoln-
shire coast are the Lesser Tern and the Ringed
Plover. The first-named of these is a summer
migrant and a late one. We remark it passing up
the Devon coast early in May; it reaches its breed-
ing-places by the middle or the third week in that
month on the Lincolnshire and Yorkshire coasts, but
is later still in Scotland. The return passage is

On Sea and Shore. 211

made towards the end of August and through Sep-
tember. Incidentally we may remark that not only
this but the other British species of Tern often con-
tinue their migrations at night. We have frequently
heard the well-known note sounding from the

ite ec Werte

I. The Lesser Tern. 2. The Ringed Plover.

darkened air as flocks of these birds passed nerth or
south along the coast, a short distance from shore.
The Lesser Tern breeds in May. It makes no nest,
but deposits two or three eggs upon the bare shingle,
in spots where the debris of the shore is large—
pebbles, broken shells, and the like—not on the fine
sand. We may remark that we have taken as many
as four eggs in a clutch from this part of the coast.
The eggs are very difficult to see on the rough

212 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

shingle, and during our search for them the dis-
tressed little birds flutter and beat about the air
uttering their shrill note incessantly, peering down
most anxiously, yet displaying no increased alarm
when they are actually found and taken. It is a
most unfortunate circumstance that this Tern prefers
the coast of the mainland to an island for breeding
purposes. To this fact its absolute extermination is
largely due in not a few localities. There can be no
doubt that the three or four other British Terns
would have shared the same fate, and become rare
and local long ago, in England especially, had they
not bred in much less accessible spots, as on the
Farne Islands, for instance. Upon the same coast
the Ringed Plover also breeds. This bird is a resi-
dent in the British Islands, but subject to a good
deal of local movement during autumn and winter.
We shall find, however, that it always prefers to
deposit its four pear-shaped eggs upon the finest
brown sand, where scarce a pebble or a shell can be
seen. The reason for this curious choice is because
the eggs are only spotted, not blotched, and therefore
they best resemble such a resting-place as is chosen
for them. They would be much more conspicuous
upon the shingle where the Tern’s eggs rest. Both
eggs have a buff ground-colour closely resembling
the sand, but those of one bird are heavily marked
to harmonize with shingle, those of the other finely

On Sea and Shore. oe

spotted to imitate grains of sand. These birds,
again, evince little or no anxiety during our search
for their eggs; they seem fully aware that the best
policy is to leave them to the safety ensured by their
protective coloration. They are laid in Lincolnshire
in June, and fresh eggs of both species may be got
together during that month; and during the day-
time the nearly vertical sun renders incubation
scarcely necessary. Both these species may be
found breeding here and there along the shore right
up to the Humber, and from Spurn still farther
northwards until the coast assumes a more rocky
character as we approach the famous Flamborough
headland. When we reach the rocks a little Passerine
bird makes its appearance, and this is the Rock
Pipit. As its name implies—and it is a most appro-
priate one—the bird is only found breeding on a
rocky shore. Given this, its distribution round our
entire coast-line is a very general one. It breeds as
commonly on the rocky shores of Devon as on the
Hebrides and the Farne Islands; but there are no
Rock Pipits on the flat coast-line between the
Thames and the Humber. We meet with it again,
however, here on the Yorkshire coast, and cannot
easily mistake it, for it is about the only small bird
that dwells in such a haunt during summer.
Travelling northwards again until we reach the
coast of Northumberland, where between the towns

21 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.
fo)

of North Sunderland and Berwick we shall find
another length of shore of great interest to the
ornithologist. Indeed between these two points
are situated the famous Farne Islands, the grandest
and most imposing haunt of sea-birds round the
entire English coast. On the mainland, nearly
opposite to the Farne Islands, there is a long reach
of sand dunes between the sea and the cultivated
land, and these are frequented by at least one bird
of exceptional interest. We may dismiss the Gulls
that beat along in restless flight, and pay small
attention to the Common Buntings that here justify
their name, and for the time being confine our
observations to the Sheldrakes that haunt this part
of the coast. These sand dunes are an ideal locality
for such a bird. Should the tide chance to be out,
more likely than not this species will be detected
upon them. It is a shy and wary fowl, though, and
we need the aid of our powerful binocular to bring
it within range of much detailed scrutiny. This
Duck is to our mind quite the handsomest of its
family in our islands, a combination of very pro-
nounced black, white, and chestnut, with a dash of
crimson and pink on bill and legs thrown in. You
may watch it thus through your glass walking ina
somewhat stately way, not waddling like a more
typical Duck; but should you attempt a much
nearer scrutiny the big bird unfolds its broad

On Sea and Shore. 215

party-coloured wings and seeks a more secluded
resting - place. Should the time be high - water,
and the blue sparkling sea reaches almost up to
the links, most probably a few Sheldrakes will be
observed flying over the water up or down the coast.
The flight is very characteristic, unlike that of the
true Ducks, more like that of a Goose or a Swan,

Sheldrakes.

the wings moved up and down with slow measured
strokes, so very different from the rapid beats of
the bird’s Anatine relations. In this species the
sexes are very similar in colour; indeed the chief
external difference is the absence of the frontal shield
from the female. Following the almost universal law,
this conspicuous hen bird takes good care to conceal
herself from enemies during the critical period of in-
cubation, and lays her eggs at the end of a long and
often winding burrow in the sand. In this particular
district a rabbit hole is almost invariably selected,
and some of the chosen burrows are so _ intricate

216 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

that we may spend hours in the fruitless search for
the exact position of the nest. This is usually made
at the end of the burrow, and consists in the first
place of a handful of dry grass—possibly a rabbit’s
old abode; but as the creamy-white and fragile eggs
accumulate (to the number of a dozen or sometimes
more) the old birds surround them with down of
exquisite softness and lavender-gray in colour. As
is generally the case where both sexes are showy,
and incubate in covered or concealed nests, the
male bird takes his due share in the duty of hatching;
but so careful are the birds in relieving each other—
usually at morning and evening—that they seldom
betray the whereabouts of the nest. The young
birds, soon after being hatched, quit the burrow
and betake themselves in their parents’ company to
the sea-shore. In this locality the bird is certainly
becoming rarer owing to the way the young are
captured and the eggs taken by fishermen and others.
We once inspected an entire brood of a dozen duck-
lings that a fisher lad was rearing at Seahouses.
He had them confined in a small pen and fed them
chiefly upon sand-hoppers, which they were marvel-
lously adept at capturing as he threw them down
one by one amongst the downy little creatures.
From Holy Island right round to the Forth, this
Luck may be met with breeding, preferring in the
latter locality the numerous sandy islets. Round

On Sea and Shore. 214

the coasts of Scotland it becomes even more numer-
ous and widely dispersed.

We will now retrace our steps to the Farne
Islands and make a brief inspection of such birds
that build their nests on the flat surface, reserving
the cliff- haunting species for our next chapter.
Repeated visits to these islands only increase their
charm. A_ single visit is bewildering, renewed
acquaintance impresses their wonders upon us and
enables us fully to realize the grandeur of the scene
and more completely to enjoy the avine wonders
of the place. Apart from their bird-life, there is a
strong human interest clinging to them, for Grace
Darling casts a halo of romance around them by her
daring deed long years ago, and which is still a
stock subject for conversation up and down the
coast. These rocky islands lying a few miles off the
shore are nowadays almost a perfect sanctuary for
sea-birds. This was not always so; for we can
recall the time when the eggs especially were
gathered in such a wholesale way that the wonder
is there were any sea-birds left there. Strict pro-
tection is now the rule, and visitors are generally
kept under such close supervision that the lifting
of an egg without permission is almost an impossi-
bility. There are, of course, a good many birds on
and off these islands at all times of the year; now
and then, especially in winter or during migration

218 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

time, a rare strageler of some non-indigenous British
species appears, and the light-keepers have repeatedly
assured us that at intervals the sea around them
during winter often swarms with Ducks and other
northern birds. It is, however, in spring and sum-
mer that the islands become crowded with their
normal inhabitants — Gulls, Terns, Eider Ducks,
Cormorants, Ringed Plovers, Oyster-catchers, Guille-
mots, and Puffins—assembled there for the express
purpose of rearing their young. One of the most
characteristic birds of the islands is the Lesser
Black-backed Gull—in fact the entire group may be
regarded as one vast colony of this species, and
perhaps the most densely populated one throughout
the length and breadth of the British archipelago.
These birds return to the islands—coming from
the south from many parts of the German Ocean
and the English Channel

early in spring, but the
exact date varies a good deal in different years. In
some seasons they return ez masse as early as from
the middle to the end of March; in other seasons
not before the middle of April. A month later they
are engaged in nesting duties. The date of breeding,
however, varies little, and the eggs are invariably
laid during May and June. On approaching some
of the islands, the first impression is that this Gull
monopolizes the whole of the ground, as it occurs
in such vast abundance. ‘The air seems full of them,

On Sea and Shore. 219

the ground and bare rocks are crowded; and as our
boat finally grates against the rough beach and we

eagerly jump ashore all becomes noisy excitement—

The Lesser Black-backed Gull.

a perfect babel of protesting cries that is persistently
kept up until we leave the place. We shall find
that the nests vary a good deal in size, some being
little more than hollows trampled out amongst the
dense beds of campion and thrift, others more sub-

220 Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

stantial and composed of pieces of turf, sea-weed,
stalks of herbage and grass. The eggs are three or
four in number, and subject to an incredible amount
of variation in colour—greens, olives, browns, and
grays of almost every possible shade representing
the shell tints; browns and grays the markings,
which take the form of round spots, blotches, streaks,
either evenly distributed over most of the surface,
scattered here and there, or forming zones round the
end. Right through the summer these Gulls are
employed in rearing their young, the period being
unusually prolonged because so many of the first
clutches of eggs are taken for culinary and other
purposes. During the latter part of August and
throughout September these Gulls and their young
leave the islands and work their way southwards,
scattering far and wide over the seas, following the
shoals of herrings and sprats and other fish, some of
them possibly wandering as far as the Spanish and
north-west African coasts. A few Herring Gulls
breed here and there among the other species, but
this bird has very few large colonies in the northern
shires. This is the one species of Gull that breeds
on the south coast of Devon, and there its colonies
are larger than any we have visited elsewhere in
the British Islands. Scattered pairs, however, may
be met with here and there along the coasts, and
in some few inland spots throughout the northern

On Sea and Shore. 221

shires. The Kittiwake also breeds in numbers at
the Farnes, but we will reserve our notice of it for
a later chapter.

Next to the Lesser Black-backed Gull the Terns
are certainly the most numerous and most interesting
birds. Three out of the five British species return
each spring to these famous islands to breed. ‘The
Roseate Tern, rarest of all the indigenous species,
used formerly to breed here, but it eventually be-
came extinct, although from time to time an odd
pair or so are observed in their old-time haunts, so
that the bird may re-establish itself in them, more
especially as the sea-birds are now so strictly pre-
served there. The three regular breeding species
are the Sandwich Tern, the Common Tern, and the
Arctic Tern. All are summer migrants only to the
British Islands. The Sandwich Tern, by far the
largest of the three species, arrives at the islands
during the last half of April, as a rule, but some
seasons is not seen until the beginning of May.
There is much in their early movements that re-
minds us of the actions of Rooks just previous to
nesting. Every morning for perhaps a month after
their arrival they assemble at the islands and stay
for a short time, previous to dispersing over the
surrounding sea to search for food, lingering longer
and longer as the actual breeding time approaches,
until they finally decide upon a spot to nest, and

to
to
to

Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

about a week after this the first eggs are laid. The
laying season lasts a month, say from the middle of
May until the middle of June. The earliest young
may be remarked about the latter date, and from
that time onwards rapidly increase in numbers from
day to day. July is a busy month indeed for the
parent birds. In exceptionally early seasons some
of the young are able to fly by the beginning of
August, and by the end of the month the birds quit
the breeding-place, and finally desert the vicinity of
the islands during the first week in September.
Sometimes the autumn exodus is made, but the birds
return in a day or so and linger about the islands
before finally taking their departure south. The
Sandwich Terns do not always breed in exactly the
Same spot every season. Sometimes an exception-
ally high spring-tide will wash away most of the eggs,
and then the poor birds move to another situation,
perhaps to another island, and try again. ‘This
happened in the summer of 1883, and we saw the
beach literally strewn with broken egg-shells, the sole
remains of the wrecked colony. On our way from
the beach towards the barer rising ground in the
centre, where the main colony chances to be estab-
lished, we pass many outlying nests, not only of this
Tern, but of Gulls and Eiders. Birds are rising
from all parts of the ground, and gradually congre-

gating into a dense bewildering, drifting, noisy throng

On Sea and Shore. g39

above our heads. At last we reach the colony of
Sandwich Terns, and there we find for an area of
many square yards the ground literally covered so
closely with eggs that to walk amongst them with-
out breaking them is almost an impossible feat, not
only because the nests are but a few feet apart, but
because the eggs themselves so closely resemble the
ground in colour. The nests are slight enough,
many of them nothing but hollows in the ground,
some of them with a few bits of weed and grass
loosely arranged, and chiefly round the margin. The
two, or less frequently three, eggs are very beautiful
objects, and vary enormously in the character of the
markings. The ground colour may be any shade
between rich buff and dull white; the markings are
brown of many shades, and ink-gray. These latter
vary considerably in shape and size, from large
irregular blotches that conceal nearly a third of the
shell to splashes, spots, and streaks, sometimes
distributed over the entire surface, or in zones, or
irregularly here and there. During the whole
period of our stay the birds remain above us,
fluttering and gliding to and fro uttering shrill notes
of alarm.

The Arctic Tern, on an average, arrives later than
the preceding species, generally about the first week
in May, sometimes not before the third week in that

month. A week or so elapses before the birds

224 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

finally settle down to nesting duties, so that the eggs
are seldom laid before June, exceptionally during
the last few days of May. As a rule the breeding
season is over by August, and the bulk of the birds
quit the islands in the first week of September. In
later seasons they may not leave until the end of
that month, and a few in rare instances linger into
October. The eggs are generally laid close to the
water's edge, and so far as our experience extends
(and that is a rather wide one, for we have visited
colonies in many parts of the British area) no nest
is ever made for their reception. They are placed
upon the bare sand and shingle, and upon the line
of rubbish that marks the limit of the highest water-
mark. ‘Two or three eggs are laid fora clutch, vary-
ing from buff to olive and pale-green in ground
colour, heavily spotted and blotched with brown of
many shades, and gray. Lastly, we have the Com-
mon Tern, a bird that arrives and departs at about
the same dates as the preceding species. We gener-
ally found the breeding-places of this Tern at a
greater distance from the water than those of the
Arctic Tern, amongst the grass and sea campion on
the higher parts of the island. As our boat ap-
proaches the nursery of this Tern, numbers of birds
may be seen squatting on the beach or swimming about
in the rock pools. These are the first to take alarm,
and as we finally land others rise from the island,

On Sea and Shore. 225
and the air is soon filled with screaming birds. The
colony is established on some rising bare ground,
and the eggs are laid in scanty nests—hollows lined
with bits of grass and stalks of marine plants. The
eggs, two or three in number, very closely resemble
those of the Arctic Tern, but are larger, rounder,
and never appear to have any olive or green tint on

the shell.

Many pairs of Eider Ducks also breed upon the

eget
The Eider Duck.

Farne Islands, placing their nests amongst the
campion and long grass, in crevices of the lichen-
covered rocks, or in holes in the ruins that are to
be found on some of the islets. These Eiders are
remarkably tame, and allow the observer to watch
them as they brood over their eggs. The male birds,
however, are much shyer, and never come near the
nests at all, spending most of their time upon the sea

off the islands. Then the Ringed Plover breeds
(01 618 ) “3

226 Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

here in small numbers, also the Oyster-catcher (a
noisy, shy bird enough), and not a few Rock Pipits.
Upon an outlying reef the Cormorants have their
colony—a dirty, evil-smelling spot, which apparently
by common consent is shunned by all the other species.
This islet is low, not more than a dozen feet above
the sea in its highest part, sloping to the water's
edge on one side. Where the huge nests of the
Cormorants are built there is scarcely a trace of any
vegetation; everything is more or less covered with
droppings, and decaying fish are strewn here and
there—the whole place smelling most offensively on
a calm hot day. These nests are made of sea-weed,
stalks of marine plants and turf, and many are lined
with green herbage. The three or four long oval
eggs are pale-green, but so thickly coated with lime
and dirt that all trace of this is hidden until they are
washed and well scraped.

The Farnes are also a great breeding resort of
the Puffin (called ‘Coulter-neb” by some people
because its beak closely resembles the coulter of a
plough), some of the islands being so undermined
by their burrows that almost every few steps we
sink deep into the soft loamy soil. During the non-
breeding season these birds disperse far and wide
over the sea, roaming immense distances from their
birthplace, but as spring arrives they collect at the
old familiar spots to rear their young. Puffins can-

On Sea and Shore. 227,

not be regarded as common about the Farne Islands
until April, but from then until the end of the follow-

ing August they are one of the most abundant species
at them, although, owing to their subterranean habits,
the fact is not very palpable to ordinary observation.
These birds excavate a long burrow in the soft soil,
often extending many yards underground, and at the
end, upon a handful of dry grass perhaps mixed with
a few feathers, the hen bird lays a solitary egg, dull-
white in colour, very sparingly marked with pale-
brown and gray. When the colony is approached
such birds as may chance to be above ground soon
betake themselves to the sea; those in the burrows
remain to be dug out before they will usually budge
from their egg, resenting this by bites and scratches
dealt in the most savage manner. There is some-
thing immensely ludicrous about the look of a Puffin
as you drag the struggling bird into the daylight;
but we would warn those who might essay the
experiment to encase their hands in strong gloves,
or they may repent the business. Had space per-
mitted, we should have liked to say something about
the curious transformation the beak of this bird
undergoes as the pairing season approaches, but we
must wait for a future opportunity. Most, in fact
all, of these species breed in many other parts of the
coasts of the northern shires, but we have elected to
describe them here, for the Farne Islands are pro-

228 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

bably the most accessible locality and admirably
situated for studying all these birds within a very
small area.

The bird-life at sea off our northern shires is
replete with interest at all seasons of the year. In
summer, in the neighbourhood of the great breeding
colonies of sea-fowl, the surrounding seas for many
miles are full of animation, the birds scattering from
these home centres far and wide in quest of their
finny prey. What a variety of birds we meet with
thus, each searching in its own peculiar way for
sustenance! How varied their actions; how diversi-
fied their habits and economy! In winter these
self-same waters are the home of countless birds that
migrate from arctic latitudes to spend that season
where food is ever plentiful and the water always
open. Hordes of Ducks and Geese swell the more
sedentary avine populations, or replace such species
as Terns, that migrate or wander south with the
approach of winter. Vast numbers of Divers and
birds of the Auk tribe move south to these seas
off the northern shires; Gulls in uncounted hosts
do the same. At varying distances from the land
armies of these sea-fowl migrate south in autumn
and north in spring; sometimes for days in suc-
cession Gulls or Skuas, Terns, Gannets, Guillemots,
and so on pass to and fro according to season,
these avine movements being on a much grander

On Sea and Shore. 229

scale than ever we remark on our southern coast
lines.

From shore, on this bright May morning, for
instance, there is nothing to indicate that much of

—-

Gulls and Terns.

special interest is to be seen among the birds at sea.
From where we stand, near the old-fashioned little
quay of this northern fishing village, redolent of tar
and stale fish, the sparkling water right away to the
headland yonder, and still beyond to the line of the
horizon where blue sky and blue sea seem to meet

230 ©©Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

in an indistinct haze, is apparently deserted of bird-
life. But we will get aboard this well-found taut little
coble, hoist the brown sail and put her nose before
the spanking breeze, and see what birds we may fall
in with during a few hours’ cruise. Behind the
headland yonder, and at no great distance from land,
a mixed company of Terns are fishing. There are
few prettier sights than this amongst bird-life on the
sea, especially should a shoal of fry chance to be
swimming close to the surface. Above the moving
mass of glittering fish the snow-white looking Terns
flutter and poise and drift to and fro in a constantly-
changing throng; many birds are swimming above
the shoal, and every few moments one of the flying
Terns drops down like a stone into the water with a
splash that we can hear half a mile or more across
the sea. The force with which they descend is
scarcely sufficient to immerse their light bodies, and
before the spray has cleared the bird is either up
again into the air, or swallowing the captured fish
whilst sitting on the surface. A few Gulls are flying
about close by, but these birds prefer larger game;
although occasionally they will chase a Tern that
may chance to be passing with a tiny fish and en-
deavour to make the poor little bird drop its capture.
Out in the offing the Gulls are much more numerous,
for there the fishing fleet is at work, and the birds
hover around ready to pick up any unconsidered

On Sea and Shore. eee

trifles that may chance to come in their way. A
mile or so off the headland the sea is literally alive
with birds of the Auk tribe that are breeding on the
long range of cliffs. Here we renew our acquaint-
ance with the comical-looking Puffins—hundreds of
them swimming about, diving at intervals, preening
their plumage, and disporting themselves generally.
Many of them allow the bows of the coble almost to
reach them before they dive with startling speed
and reappear some distance ahead or astern, the first
thing they do upon reaching the surface again being
to look about in all directions for any possible further
danger. Mingled amongst them are the Guillemots
and Razorbills, the one bird easily identified by its
long pointed bill, the other by its deep flattened one
crossed with a conspicuous white line on either side.
The Razorbill may be further distinguished by the
white streak of plumage which runs from the base
of the upper mandible to the eye. In the Ringed
Guillemot, a form of the Common Guillemot, the
white streak extends backwards behind the eye.
Both birds are very similar in their actions out here
at sea, swimming and diving with great celerity.
Here and there small parties of one species or the
other may be seen flying swiftly along just above
the waves on their way to or from the headland
where they are now breeding. They feed on fish—

here in these northern waters young herrings and

2 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

coal-fish are favourite fare—crustaceans, and molluscs,
chasing the former with great dexterity through the
water, searching for the latter in soundings amongst
the weed and rocks. We shall have more to say
about these Auks in the following chapter. They
are all resident in British seas, coming to the land
in summer to breed, and during the remainder of the
year wandering far and wide over the waste of waters,
and then visiting coasts and estuaries and harbours
where they are never seen during the season of
reproduction. Here and there in our northern
waters, but only off the western coast-line during
summer, we may frequently fall in with Petrels and
Shearwaters. These birds are the most pelagic of
all, and only visit the land to breed. The Fulmar
is the largest indigenous British species, and looks
very like a Gull as it flies about over the water.
The Manx Shearwater comes next in size, but it is a
dark-plumaged bird on the upper parts, only white
below. Its long wings are very noteworthy, as it
skims and dashes about round our boat. The Fork-
tailed Petrel comes next in point of size. This and
the following species are more nocturnal in their
habits, but equally as pelagic as the foregoing. Lastly
we have the Stormy Petrel—the smallest of web-
footed birds—perhaps the most widely and commonly
distributed of all, and often met with not only in our
northern seas during summer, but as far to the south

On Sea and Shore. 2

a9
as the English Channel, in which it has at least one
known nesting station. None of these birds are
known to breed anywhere along the east coast of
England or Scotland. The typical Petrels may be
readily identified by the sooty-black plumage, re-
lieved by a patch of white across the rump and the
upper tail-coverts. These small Petrels rarely alight
upon the sea to swim notwithstanding their webbed
feet. They flutter often close to the big waves, and
may then be seen to drop their legs downwards and
to pat the water with their feet, seeming sometimes
literally to run down the glassy surface of some huge
roller. We shall have occasion to enter into more
details respecting all these Petrels in the following
chapter.

Then during the wild winter months many parts
of the sea off the northern shires teem with bird-
life, much of it consisting of migrants from the arctic
regions. Vast flocks of Scaups and Scoters hang
about these northern waters; companies of Eiders
and Long-tailed Ducks especially may be met with
long distances from land. Flocks of Scoters may
occasionally be seen upon these waters all the
summer through, and we have heard of Pink-footed
Geese also apparently foregoing their usual summer
journey to the north. In mid-winter large flocks of
Sheldrakes frequent various parts of the North Sea,
whilst Wigeon and Mallard often occur in enormous

234 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

numbers. Occasionally during winter the rare King
Eider is detected in company with the commoner
species. The congregations of Brent Geese (in some
years but not in others) that assemble off the lower-
lying coasts especially are also a feature of winter
bird-life at sea. Indeed, we should state that the
latter season is by far the best for birds in such a
locality, for the ]and is then only visited under ex-
ceptional circumstances. Lastly, we might allude to
the Gannet. During summer this bird assembles at
a few recognized breeding-stations round the British
coasts, and here we hope presently to visit them;
but throughout the remainder of the year it is a
thoroughly pelagic species, and wanders south down
both east and west coast-lines to the English Channel
and even beyond. ‘There are few more charming
sights amongst bird-life at sea than a company of
Gannets when fully on the feed. Sometimes they.
may be watched from the shore, at others they
pursue their labours far out at sea. The way the
big white birds hurl themselves down into the water
from hundreds of feet above is most impressive,
especially if the sun is shining full upon them. Then
their magnificent powers of flight are very attractive
to us, as we watch them by the hour together sailing
to and fro above the water at vast heights on never-
tiring wings.

Space forbids but a passing allusion to the bird-

Ox Sea and Shore. 235

life upon the mud-flats of the Wash during autumn
and winter. We shall, however, have another op-
portunity of dealing with this area more especially
in our final chapter relating to migration in the
northern shires.

CHARTER LX.

ON CRAG AND SEA-CLIFF.

HE bird-life of the inland crags nowadays is
comparatively limited, but what it lacks in
numbers is to some extent made up in interest.
Time was when the Golden Eagle bred on some
of these inland precipices of the northern shires;
when the Raven and the Buzzard made them their
home. For the purpose of the present work we
propose to glance at the few birds that frequent
the various crags and rocks—chiefly of limestone
and millstone grit—of South Yorkshire and North
Derbyshire. They may be taken as typical of
many similar localities in the northern shires. It
would certainly be difficult to find more grandly
romantic scenery than is contained in the district of
the limestone rocks of the Peak—in such spacious
valleys as Dove Dale, Monsal Dale, and Millers
Dale, or in such savage glens as are in the vicinity
of Castleton. As examples of the crags of millstone
grit we have the noble range of rocks known as
Wharncliffe, that crest the valleys like a series of
colossal bulwarks, below which is a sea of rolling
wood and bracken. It is hard to believe that so

On Crag and Sca-cloff. 28y7

much beautiful scenery still remains, surrounded as
it is by some of the blackest towns and grimiest
centres of manufacturing industry in the British
Islands.

One of the commonest birds throughout this dis-
trict of crags is the Jackdaw. In the south of Eng-
land this birds perhaps shows more partiality for
marine cliffs; inland, as in Yorkshire, it frequents
churches and other buildings. Perhaps this is be-
cause such inland cliffs are not so common in the
south. There is scarcely a rocky glen in the Peak
that does not echo the Jackdaw’s cackling cry.
At Castleton there is an exceptionally fine colony
established in the lofty cliffs at Devil’s Hole, and
which are crowned with the crumbling ruins of the
keep of once-famous Peveril Castle. Here many
times we used to stand at the mouth of the vast
yawning cavern, in which the rope-makers are estab-
lished, as the dusk gathered, and watch the noisy
Daws come home to roost. Usually in one compact
flock they came, sometimes in several detached
parties, and after wheeling and fluttering they finally
settled upon the scraggy trees growing out of the
rock face. Their cackling cries made the grand old

gorge echo again—a chorus that was kept up till

their sable forms could not be distinguished in the
evening gloom. They make their nests here in the
holes and crevices of the mighty cliffs. Another

238 =Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

common bird is the Rock Dove. Whether this
white-rumped Dove is the truly feral Rock Dove,
or whether they are descendants of tame birds run
wild, it is perhaps difficult now to say; but our own
opinion leans to the latter view, because we believe
that the true wild Rock Dove is found nowhere but
on maritime cliffs. Whatever their origin, however,
here the birds are now, and wild enough. Their
abundance is reflected in the names that they have
inspired for ‘‘ Dove” river, and “ Dove” dale, both
of them famous haunts of these birds. They nest
in crevices of the limestone crags, and their habits
generally are very similar to those of their relatives
along the coast, which they also resemble closely in
appearance. Another, yet much smaller colony of
these Doves, is to be found in the range of crags
that crest the right-hand side of the Rivelin Valley
going westwards, close to the Norfolk Arms at
Hollow Meadows. We can state from long personal
observation, confirmed by keepers and others, that
these birds arrive at this place in February, and
after rearing several broods during the spring and
summer and early autumn, that they leave in Octo-
ber. We have seen these birds perch upon a nar-
row rail fence on the edge of the crags they frequent.
Vast numbers of Starlings also build in these places
up and down the Peak and elsewhere. Another
very common species is the House Martin. There

On Crag and Sea-cliff 239

must be many thousands of nests of this bird in
the dales of North Derbyshire alone—a_ profoundly
interesting fact, which indicates that such situations
were invariably selected in prehistoric times before
such things as houses and bridges were in existence.
Talking of bridges brings to mind the fact that on
some of the railway viaducts in these dales the
copings are so thickly studded with nests in some
places as to hide the masonry. We ought also
to mention that the Kestrel breeds commonly in
these limestone crags, and not a few Redstarts and
Wheatears have their homes in crevices among
them, at a lower level and near the ground, of
course. Swifts are equally common, and in their
choice of a haunt suggest a habit that has been
retained from a remote period, although changed by
many individuals in more recent times. We might
also mention that the Peregrine Falcon still breeds
locally on some of these inland crags of the northern
shires, especially in the Lake District.

So far the inland crags; we will now proceed to a
study of the bird-life on the sea-cliffs of the north.
It is in these localities again that the northern shires
show to advantage over most southern counties in
the matter of their bird-life. Nowhere in the south
can be found such vast bird bazaars as those that
are established in such wonderful abundance upon
the sea-cliffs of the northern shires. From York-

240 Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

shire northwards to the Hebrides and the Shetlands,
one stirring scene of bird-life after another in
bewildering numbers crowd upon the observer.
From Flamborough’s cliffs to the Pinnacles at the
Farnes; thence onwards to the Bass Rock, and
across the Highlands to the Hebrides and to St.
Kilda in one direction; or up the east coast of Scot-
land to the wall-like crags of Sutherlandshire and
Caithness, and across the Pentland Firth to Orkney
and on to Shetland, in another, what famous bird-
stations may be found! We will visit a selection of
these in turn, commencing our inspection upon the
noble headland at Flamborough, at Speeton and
Bempton.

Some of the finest cliff scenery in the north of
England lies between Flamborough Head and
Filey on the Yorkshire coast, and what is of more
importance from an ornithologist’s point of view, its
bird-life is correspondingly impressive. We have
many fine cliff-scapes in the south of England, but
the birds are disappointing, because they occur in
small numbers only, or are absent altogether, as is the
case in South Devonshire, for instance. There are
few such haunts of Guillemots and Razorbills in the
northern shires of England as are located upon some
of these grand cliffs. During the non-breeding
season they are practically deserted by sea-fowl, left
to the undisputed possession of Jackdaws and Rock

On Crag and Sea-cliff. 241

Doves. But with the approach of spring a great
change comes over the scene, and Gulls and Auks
begin to assemble once more upon the famous cliffs.
Large numbers of eggs, especially of the Guillemot,
are taken every season, and prove a welcome source
of income to the intrepid climbers who risk their lives

‘(ae Se a

in gathering this somewhat unusual harvest. From
the summit of the cliffs but little can be observed
of the stirring scenes going on upon the rock
face. The ground at the top is too sloping to peer
over, and it is only here and there where the sea
has made a deep indentation, and a view of the cliff
face can be seen from the opposite side of the gorge,
that we can obtain some faint idea of the bird

wonders of the place. For more years than ‘the
(618 ) Q

242 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

oldest inhabitant” of Bempton or Flamborough can
recall, the birds have bred here in enormous numbers
and have been as regularly robbed. The Guillemots
and Razorbills and Puffins are somewhat irregular
in their date of return to the cliffs in spring. Some-
time towards the end of April is perhaps an average
date, although they have been known to come back
as early as February (1884). At the Farnes they
are apparently earlier, assembling usually some time
in March. The young and old birds generally leave
the breeding-places for good during the last ten days
of August in both of these localities. The eggs of
the Guillemot are the easiest to obtain, being laid
upon the ledges and in the numberless little hollows
about the cliffs; the Razorbill deposits its big solitary
egg in a crevice where in not a few cases it is
absolutely safe from man; the Puffins, breeding
nearer to the top of the cliffs, lay their single egg in
burrows. It would be impossible here to describe
the wonderful variety in the eggs of the Guillemot:
they are by far the most beautiful of any of those of
the sea-fowl. Great numbers of these eggs are taken
for food; and we can remember how the climbers
at Flamborough used to return home to breakfast
hungry as Hawks, and break the pretty eggs into
the frying-pan with the bacon—forming a meal a
gourmand might envy, provided his appetite has
been sharpened by a long morning in the bracing

On Crag and Sea-cliff. 243

air that blows in from the German Ocean. The
‘Pinnacles ” at the Farne Islands are another famous
haunt of the Guillemot; the most attractive of all
the breeding-stations of this species throughout our
islands, owing to the exceptional ease with which
the birds can be observed. These pinnacles are a
group of flat-topped rocks, rising perpendicularly
from the sea, close to one of the islands, from which
a good view can be obtained right on to their table-
like summits. These are crowded, densely packed
in fact, with a struggling mass of Guillemots. When
the birds dash off and fly down headlong into the
sea, a still more extraordinary sight is presented;
for all over the surface are strewn hundreds of eggs
—like great pears—of almost every conceivable hue
and pattern of marking. The Guillemots are com-
paratively silent; but the scene is noisy enough,
because on the sides of the perpendicular rocks
numbers of Kittiwakes are nesting, and their cries
are incessant, sounding high above the surging
sea and the whirring of the wings of the depart-
ing Guillemots. Into many of these Kittiwakes’
nests we can look from the summit of the island
adjoining, and are thus able to count the eggs
or young as soon as the brooding birds are driven
off.

Our next rocky haunt of sea-fowl lies far away to
the northward, and is the widely and justly famous

244 Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

Bass Rock in the Firth of Forth. This is another
favourite locality of ours; we have visited it re-
peatedly, and the stirring scenes of bird-life we have
witnessed there each time are indelibly fixed upon the
memory. It was at the Bass that we went through
our apprenticeship to marine cliff- climbing, and
where we first made the acquaintance of the Gannet
at home. As most readers may know, the Bass is
one of the few grand breeding-places of the Gannet
in the British archipelago. There are several other
rock-birds breeding in some plenty upon the Bass,
but the Gannet stamps the rock with its individuality,
and all other species are overpowered and compara-
tively lost amidst its numbers. Perhaps we might
make an exception in the case of the Puffins. There
is a large colony of these birds established in the
walls of a ruined fortification facing the sea, and
Puffins may be seen repeatedly coming and going in
their usual hasty way. There are many more of
these birds breeding here and there about the rock,
but this, so far as we know, is the largest congrega-
tion. The Gannet is a thoroughly pelagic bird, and
only comes to the land to breed, retiring once more
to the sea as soon as its young can fly. During the
late autumn and throughout the winter the Bass is
practically deserted by birds. At the end of March
or during the first half of April the Gannets begin to
assemble at the time-honoured nesting-place. At

On Crag and Sea-cliff. 245

first their stay is fleeting, but it gradually becomes

longer and longer until nest-building commences,

The Gannets.

and from that time onwards the Bass is the grand

head-quarters of many thousands of Gannets. It

246 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

has been computed that at least twelve thousand
adult birds frequent the Bass; probably this under-
estimates the actual number, although we must
remember that in 1831 Macgillivray gave twenty
thousand. In any case, judging from the most
reliable information obtainable, the Gannets seem to
be on the decrease. Throughout the summer the
Bass is literally vignetted in a throng of ever-moving
Gannets; but even at this season many of the birds
fly long distances out to sea to feed, coming home
stuffed with fish, lots of which are disgorged at the
nests. Numbers of the birds begin nest-building at
the beginning of May, but, as is the case with Rooks,
the operation is not commenced simultaneously by
all, and a fortnight later, when many of the nests
contain an egg, there are a good number of others in
an uncompleted state. At this time many of the
birds flying about will be remarked with pieces of
turf or other material in their bills, which they will
thus carry for a long period without attempting to
alight and work it into the unfinished nests. The
grand home of the Gannets here is situated upon
the north, north-east, and west cliffs. Here on the
grassy downs, near the edge of the cliffs, numbers of
Gannets may be seen standing quietly, some fast
asleep with their head buried in the dorsal plumage.
We have caught Gannets when thus asleep, but care
must be exercised to grip the bird firmly round the

On Crag and Sea-cliff: 247

neck, or a stab from the formidable beak will reward
the would-be captor’s rashness. The nests are made
almost anywhere—at the top of the cliffs amidst the
broken rocks and crags, lower down the cliffs where
any ordinary climber can reach them, and, most
numerously of all, on the ledges far below which are
only accessible with the aid of a rope. To say the
least, the nest is not a very attractive one; it is often
trodden out of all semblance to such a structure, and
frequently covered with droppings and slime, whilst
around it are dead and decaying fish, many of them
disgorged when partly digested. The hot sun soon
completes the work of decomposition, and generates
a fearsome stench which it requires all the fortitude
of an enthusiastic ornithologist to tolerate. The
nests are made of sea-weed, turf, straws, and scraps
of moss, the soil from the turf being trampled into a
mortar-like mass and binding the whole together.
In a shallow cavity at the top of this cone-like
structure a single egg is laid, originally white coated
thickly with lime, but soon becoming stained into a
rich brown from contact with the big webbed feet of
the parent birds. Numbers of nests in some spots
are crowded together, often so closely that the cliff
is literally white with sitting birds. The noise is
deafening. The Gannets in the air are quiet enough,
gliding to and fro in a bewildering throng, but the
birds on the cliffs and the grassy downs at the

248 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

summit, those that are standing or sitting, keep up
a never-ending chorus of harsh cries. As we wander
to and fro inspecting the dwellings in this curious
city of birds the indignant owners bark defiance with
sparkling eyes, and only tumble off their solitary egg
when prompted by feelings for their own personal
safety. They are quarrelsome birds too, possibly
because so very overcrowded, and fights and spar-
rings are continually taking place. Every now and
then two birds will each seize the other in its power-
ful bill and go tumbling over the cliffs together, not
to separate until they have perhaps fallen a hundred
feet or so, when they will part, and soon lose their
identity among the drifting crowd that circles about
the face of the cliff in never-ending activity. All
the time of our stay birds are coming and going,
dropping lightly on to the land or soaring upwards
into the air; whilst the sea below is well sprinkled
with birds, and some distance down the Firth many
others may be seen busily engaged in fishing. The
scene becomes still more animated when the young
are hatched. At first these are ugly, ungainly-look-
ing objects, blind, and covered with dark-gray skin.
This, however, is soon clothed with dense down of
dazzling whiteness, which in its turn is succeeded
by a speckled plumage—brown spotted with white.
The young birds pass through several stages of
plumage before they acquire the white livery charac-

On Crag and Sea-cliff. 249

teristic of their parents; neither do they breed until
they are four or five years old. A few of these
party-coloured immature birds may be detected
amongst the crowd of adults at the Bass; but, as a
rule, these young ones do not congregate much at
the breeding-places until ready to propagate their
species. In many respects the Gannet is a very
remarkable bird. The nostrils are closed, being
practically obliterated, the tongue is small and
aborted, whilst nearly the entire surface of the body
is covered with a net-work of subcutaneous air-cells,
communicating with the lungs, and thus emptied or
inflated as the bird may desire. We have already
dwelt at some length upon the Gannet’s ways of life,
and it will at once be seen from the above facts how
admirably the bird is fitted not only for an aerial
existence, but for withstanding the great pressure of
the water during its repeated plunges into the sea
from high altitudes.

There are also many Kittiwakes nesting about
the cliffs of the Bass, and a few Herring Gulls.
The former birds breed most abundantly upon the
precipitous cliffs, low down many of them, and in
very inaccessible spots. We have, however, taken
many eggs of this Gull from nests nearer the top of
the cliffs, and in places which we had little difficulty
in reaching without the aid of a rope. The nest of
this Gull is a substantial one, made largely of turf,

250 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

which is trampled into a solid mass by the owners.
Sea-weed and dry grass, as well as the dead stalks
of plants, are also used. The eggs are usually two
or three in number, green, or olive, or brown, of
various shades, marked with darker brown and gray.
Then amongst the cliffs great numbers of Guillemots
and smaller numbers of Razorbills deposit their eggs
in suitable spots; whilst the Jackdaw and the Rock
Dove frequent them. The Daws are great robbers
of eggs, and as soon as the Auks or Kittiwakes
chance to leave them unprotected the foraging birds
beat along the cliffs and pounce upon them, carrying
them off transfixed on their bill) The Herring
Gulls prefer the grassy downs in the hollow on the
north side of the Bass, making their somewhat slight
nests amongst the herbage. Their eggs closely
resemble those of the Lesser Black-backed Gull—
the brown varieties—but do not present anything
like the same diversity, although they are as a rule
perceptibly larger. We are glad to be able to state
that the Peregrine Falcon breeds upon the rock, and
on more than one occasion, after an exciting climb,
aided by a rope, we have succeeded in reaching and
minutely examining the nest of this interesting bird.
It preys upon the Puffins, Rock Doves, and Guille-
mots that make the Bass their summer home, and
we earnestly hope that it may long continue to
frequent this noble pile of rock.

Ox Crag and Sea-cliff. 251

From the Bass it is a long jaunt to St. Kilda, but
we will do the distance on Icarian wings, and
contrive to reach the famous islands during the very
height of the breeding season of the birds. We
have appropriately left this romantic place to the
last, for it is here, we say without hesitation, that
littoral rock scenery throughout the northern shires
culminates in grandeur, and that rock bird-life attains
to its highest degree of impressiveness. Sixteen
years ago the group of islands (collectively known as
St. Kilda) were comparatively unknown to British
ornithologists. Of their existence, of course, most
bird-lovers knew, but only in a hazy sort of a way,
whilst the wonders of their bird-life were even more
traditional to most of us. Nowadays St. Kilda has
become ornithologically “fashionable”; it is con-
sidered quite the correct thing to “do” the archi-
pelago, and the place has become popularized—we
had almost written a much stronger, if perhaps not
quite so genteel a word. Sixteen years ago we
visited the islands and published an account of their
bird-life—the first, we believe, that had been written
for nearly twenty years. We have in various works
still further emphasized the richness of the place
from an ornithological point of view. This, we
profoundly regret to say, has resulted in a wild rush
of collectors to the islands, with the inevitable result
that the natives have been corrupted, and the Wren

252 Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

peculiar to the place has become threatened with
absolute extermination! Better perhaps had we re-
mained silent, at least until sufficient steps had been
taken to secure the safety of perhaps the most in-
teresting bird on the islands, if the most diminutive.
Collectors have taught the St. Kildan that there is
more wealth in the long-despised Wren than in the
much-vaunted and highly protected Fulmar, but the
source of it will prove a transient one indeed if
something be not quickly done for its preservation.
It would be difficult to find, or even to imagine,
more grandly beautiful rock scenery than St. Kilda
presents. There is not, for instance, in all the
British Islands, a precipice approaching in magnifi-
cence to that of Connacher, which is formed literally
by the side of an island twelve hundred feet high
falling sheer into the Atlantic; and when we add
that this awful wall of rock is crowded with birds,
almost from foot to summit, we complete a descrip-
tion which has no parallel in Britain. This is but
one item in the grand sum total of the crags of St.
Kilda. It would be as hard to conceive a more
majestic outline of sea-crags than is formed by the
towering jagged summits that cut the sky-line and
form the long narrow sister island of Doon, forming
the southern horn of a most picturesque, if somewhat
treacherous bay, of which a spur of St. Kilda itself
completes the watery enclosure. The cliffs that

On Crag and Sea-clrff. 253

buttress the western isle of Soay, though not so
high, are in their way as picturesque; whilst both
islands literally swarm with birds, some of them the
most local in the British avifauna. Then lying away
to the north, four miles from St. Kilda, in lonely
isolation, towers the lofty island rock mass of
Borreay, with its two attendant satellites, Stacks Lii
and Armin, all sacred to the Gannets that in tens
of thousands crowd upon them during the summer
months, This island itself rises nearly sheer in
parts a thousand feet or so from the ocean. Un-
doubtedly the grand secret of the charm that has
attracted sea-birds in such numbers to these rocky
islets is their utter isolation and loneliness, combined
with the vast food supply furnished by the surround-
ing sea. These islands are far without the ocean
highways of vessels; they are rarely approached by
man; whilst the small number of people——quite an
ideal commonwealth in its way—that live there are
sensible enough to treat the birds fairly, and not
literally to kill the Geese that lay the golden eggs.
They farm the birds as an agriculturist would his
land, or a stock-keeper his sheep and cows; they
allow them a close time, or perhaps the place is so
extensive that these few fowlers are unable to ex-
haust the store, and the supply is kept up by natural
increase. Be this as it may the birds live and
thrive, and this notwithstanding the fact that the

254 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Sea Birds Protection Acts do not apply to any of
the islands, possibly, as some readers might say,
because it would be utterly impossible to enforce
them, not even by removing every living soul from
the place.

We need not linger here at any length upon
species that we have already dealt with elsewhere.
Such birds as Guillemots, Razorbills, Puffins, and
Gannets are here in vast abundance, but our space is
required for the description of a few birds that we
meet with nowhere else in the British archipelago
in such numbers. The island of Doon, for instance,
so thickly swarms with Puffins that when we land
upon it these birds glide down to the sea in such
countless hordes that the very face of the hillsides
seems slipping away beneath us. As for the Guille-
mots, we knew an old St. Kildan, so the story ran
in the village, who came across such numbers of
their eggs upon the cliffs that he was compelled to
take off his breeches and turn them into a bag to
hold them! But there are more interesting birds to
us, perhaps, breeding on Doon, and these are the
Fork-tailed Petrels. They have their nests in bur-
rows upon the grassy summit of the island. Those
we discovered were on the western end, nearest to St.
Kilda, and made in the rich soft soil, the burrows
some two to five feet in length. At the end of this

burrow the Petrel makes a scanty nest of dry grass,

On Crag and Sea-cloff. 255

moss, and roots, upon which it lays aj single egg,
white in colour, faintly marked with dust-like specks
of brown and gray. Sometimes a nest is dispensed
with altogether. We caught some of the Petrels
upon their nests, which, when released, flew about in
a dazed sort of way as if unaccustomed to the light.

The Fork-tailed Petrel.

These Petrels are chiefly crepuscular or nocturnal in
their habits, and during the daytime not a bird will
be seen. The St. Kildans pay little or no attention
to such small birds, and possibly the Fork-tailed
Petrels had remained here undisturbed for ages, for
we are not aware that Bullock obtained any eggs
from this colony when he discovered the species in
the British Islands upwards of eighty years ago.
Bullock, we might mention, came very near the
honour of discovering this bird absolutely, for he
was only anticipated by a year by Vieillot.

St. Kilda is indeed the grand head-quarters of

256 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

our British Petrels. All the indigenous species
breed there, and in greater numbers than they do
anywhere else. The Stormy Petrel is common
enough, and doubtless breeds on every island in the
group. Its habits are almost precisely the same as
those of the Fork-tailed Petrel, and its egg is similar
in colour, only much smaller in size, as the bird is
itself. But the grand colony of Manx Shearwaters
is perhaps of more general interest; the bird breeds
in many other parts of our islands, although nowhere
in such numbers as it does here. Soay is its grand
head-quarters, but great numbers breed in suitable
localities on every other island in the group. This
Petrel is also nocturnal in its habits, lying close con-
cealed in its burrow during the day, coming out at
dusk to search for food over the surrounding sea.
St. Kildans say that the Manx Shearwater is one of
their first bird visitors in spring, and amongst the
last to leave in autumn. Probably the real fact of
the case is that the bird haunts the islands through-
out the year. Towards the end of May this Shear-
water commences to lay. It provides a scanty nest
of dry grass at the end of the burrow it has exca-
vated, and here it lays a single white egg. Like
the Owls and the Nightjars, this bird becomes active
at nightfall. The Shearwaters then leave their
burrows in thousands, and the grassy island becomes
a scene of activity, birds coming and going in the

On Crag and Sea-cliff. 257

gloom, and their cries filling the air. The “Scrapire”,
as the St. Kildans call this bird, is a favourite article
of food with them, and large quantities are caught
at night, when parties of men visit the birds’ haunts
and knock the poor Shearwaters down with sticks
or drag them from their holes.

But the most important bird of all in the entire
croup of islands is the far-famed Fulmar. Its num-

The Fulmar.

bers here would be very difficult to estimate even
approximately, but some faint idea may be derived
from the fact that the St. Kildans are reputed to
take, during one special week in August which
custom has long reserved for the purpose, no less
than twenty thousand young birds! To these we
must add the numbers of old birds that are snared

on their nests during the hatching season; whilst we
(M 618 ) R

258 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

must also bear in mind that comparatively a small
proportion of birds are caught at all. Darwin had
certainly strong grounds for asserting that the Ful-
mar is the most numerous bird in the world. With-
out being held in any way to support an assertion
which is so difficult of proof, we may certainly state
that no other sea-bird breeds in such vast numbers
anywhere in the British archipelago. The Fulmar
commences to breed in May, the eggs being laid
from the middle of that month onwards to early June.
Unlike the Shearwaters and the more _ typical
Petrels, this bird rarely makes a burrow big enough
to hide itself, but is content to scratch out a hollow
in the soil, or even to deposit its egg on ledges of
the cliffs. In some parts of the cliffs the nests are
so close to each other that from a distance the birds
seem crowded together into great white masses.
Beyond a small portion of dry grass the Fulmar
makes no nest, although some we found on Doon
were hollows lined with small bits of rock. The
single egg is white, rough in texture, and with a
strong pungent smell. Of all the varied scenes of
bird-life that it has been our good fortune to witness,
not one has been quite so impressive as that we wit-
nessed from a shoulder of Connacher, when, after a
stiff climb from the village, we suddenly came upon
the assembly of Fulmars at their nests. The first
thing that impressed us was the szdence of it all.

On Crag and Sea-cloff. 259

We had hitherto been so used to a noisy din as an
inseparable accompaniment to a gathering of sea-
fowl that the silence of these Fulmars seemed almost
weirdly strange. We can only compare this scene
to a dense snow-storm in which each flake was a
separate bird. In an apparently never-ending throng
the big white birds drifted by, those nearest to the
cliffs passing in one direction, those farther out at
sea going directly opposite. There seemed thus to
be two streams of birds passing and repassing each
other, whilst as far as the eye could reach the air
was filled with gliding fluttering birds—some of them
so indifferent to our presence that they approached
almost within arm’s-length. No birds were flying
over the land, all were above the water or floating”
on its surface far down below. We stood looking at
the wonderful scene for quite an hour literally spell-
bound; and even now, after the lapse of many years, .
we can see the whole thing again as we write these
lines, graven as it is indelibly upon the memory.
There was a strange indescribable fascination about
the whole scene which held us to the spot, and many
times during our fortnight’s sojourn upon these
islands we wended our way alone to the summit of
the cliffs to sit there and watch the comings and the
goings of these wonderful birds. Even more im-
pressive still does all again become when viewed
from the sea below. Then the masses of birds, as

260 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

they appear to fall away from the rock face, literally
darken the air and overpower us with their numbers.

The St. Kildans are expert fowlers, snaring the
Fulmars as they sit upon their nests, with long rods
to which a horse-hair noose is attached. The birds
that breed here are the source of the St. Kildans’
wealth; thousands of them are killed and salted for
food; thousands of eggs are taken for a similar pur-
pose. When caught, the Petrels are made to vomit
a quantity of oil into the dried gullet of a Gannet
that the fowler carries attached to him; and this oil,
together with the feathers from these birds, Gannets
and others, are also a further source of income.

CHAPTER X.

MIGRATION IN THE NORTHERN SHIRES.

RNs propose to bring the present volume to a
close by a brief review of the more salient
features of avine migration in the northern shires,
especially as it is presented on the coasts of Lincoln-
shire and Yorkshire, and in some of the river-valleys
in the south of the latter county. It is perhaps in
the migration of birds that comparisons become
most pronounced between the avine characteristics
of the northern and south-western counties of Eng-
land. In the latter area, as we have already pointed
out, not only in our volume dealing with the season-
flight of British birds, but in another devoted to
bird-life in a southern county, migration is almost as
remarkable for what it omits as for what it includes;
the south-west peninsula of England being singularly
poor in migrational phenomena. In the northern
shires, on the other hand, the story of migration is
unfolded every season in all its wondrous grandeur,
and along our eastern sea-board, especially in autumn,
birds in uncounted hosts pass to and fro in a way
more impressive than any words can tell. Another
thing, there is infinitely more local movement amongst

262 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

birds in the northern shires than in the southern
and south-western counties. The former area is
subject to much greater climatic vicissitudes, to
sudden falls of temperature, and heavy snowstorms,
disturbances that have a marked effect upon birds,
and cause them to wander to an extent seldom
remarked in the south-west, where conditions are
much more equable and the temperature uniformly
higher. For instance, we believe the isotherm of
January in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire is about 37°,
whilst in the south-west of England it is as high
as 43. In one way the southern counties possess
perhaps an exceptional migrational interest, from
the fact that they are the first point of arrival as
they are the last of departure of birds moving north
or south into or from the British area. But many
of the northern shires are exceptionally fortunate, for
on their coast-line breaks that mighty tide of east-
to-west migration in autumn, as also that from the
north and north-east at that season, together with
the departures in the reverse direction in spring—
movements which are but faintly or never indicated
at all in the south-west of England. In that remote
district the tide of migration from the north and
north-east is comparatively weak and exhausted by
the time it is reached.

In spring, migration in the northern shires is to

>?)

some extent, and in certain directions, perceptibly

Migration in the Northern Shires. 263

less marked than it is in many of the southern
counties, especially as regards our normal summer
migrants. It is, on the other hand, more emphasized
in connection with the spring departure of birds
that breed in northerly or easterly localities beyond
the British area, and also perhaps in so far as it
relates to the coasting migration of certain species.
Here in the northern shires, as elsewhere, the first
indication of migratory movement among the birds
is the departure of some of the species that have
been spending the winter in them. But so far as
South Yorkshire is concerned, perhaps we ought to
say that migration is absolutely initiated by the
return of the Song Thrush at the end of January or
early in February, and of many Blackbirds at the
beginning of the latter month—individuals breeding
in this district, but leaving it in November. The
movement may be small and comparatively unim-
portant, nevertheless it is to be remarked by the
careful observer of birds. There is also some slight
movement north or north-east of the Redwing and
the Fieldfare; whilst Song Thrushes and Blackbirds
that have been wintering in the southern portions
of our islands begin to migrate towards continental
and perhaps North British haunts. The same re-
marks also apply to the Robin, the Greenfinch, the
Linnet, the Chaffinch, the Tree Sparrow,’ the Snow

1We say nothing about the migrations of the House Sparrow, because at

264 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Bunting, the Sky-lark, and the Shore Lark especially.
Starlings, Jackdaws, and Rooks also initiate a migra-
tional movement during February; and there is
also some evidence to show that Sparrow-hawks,
Bitterns, Geese, Swans, many Ducks, Ring Doves,
Golden Plovers, Lapwings, Woodcocks and Snipes,
Redshanks, Curlews, Little Auks, the three British
species of Divers, and the Red-necked and Sclavo-
nian Grebes are at least in movement of a defi-
nite character. This applies not only to an
actual departure from our shores, but to a coasting
movement across them from winter stations. still
farther south. With the exception, perhaps, of the
Shore Lark and the two species of Swans, the migra-
tion can only be regarded as slight, and becomes
in the majority of cases much more emphasized in
the following month, more especially as concerns
the Song Thrush, the Greenfinch, the Linnet, the
Chaffinch, the Sky-lark, the Starling, and the Jack-
daw among Passerine birds; and the Bernacle and
Brent Geese, the Mallard and other Ducks, the
Snipes and the Divers among others. It will be
remarked that the earliest birds to leave are those
that breed in continental areas due east of the
British area; the next species to go are such as
have their breeding- places in a general north-

present they are not at all clear. The bird visits the lighthouses and light-
vessels in spring and autumn, but the movement is not yet clearly defined.

Migration in the Northern Shires. 265

easterly or north-westerly direction. It should also
be stated that many species—especially among the
Ducks and Waders—are still found on passage in
the northern shires, long after they have finally
deserted our southern coasts for the season. Thus
the Scoters mostly leave Devonshire during March
and April, but they are still passing the coasts of
Yorkshire in May; the Jack Snipe, the Dunlin,
and the Sanderling leave in March; in the northern
shires they are still on passage in April and May.
With the advent of March a further exodus of
our winter visitors takes place, and many of these
birds continue to leave throughout this and the fol-
lowing month. March initiates a migration north
of the Stonechat, the Hedge Accentor, the Goldcrest,
the Titmice, the Pied Wagtail, and the Wren, the
Goldfinch and the Brambling, the Yellow, Common,
and Reed Buntings, the Carrion and Hooded Crows,
the Jay, and the Short-eared Owl, the White-
fronted, Bean, and Pink-footed Geese, the Teal
and the Wigeon, the Tufted Duck and the Golden-
eye, the Gray Plover, the Turnstone, the Dunlin,
and the Purple Sandpiper. This movement is
continued throughout the month and into April, in
many cases gradually dying out in May. Fieldfares
and Redwings migrate in large numbers during April,
as also do Goldcrests, some of the Finches, Snow
Buntings, Starlings, Golden Plovers, and Wood-

266 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

cocks; Dunlins perhaps leave most abundantly in
May, as also do Turnstones, Gray Plovers, Knots,
Sanderlings, and Godwits—birds that breed late in
the arctic regions. The coasting migration of the
Pied Wagtail, the Hen Harrier, the Merlin, the
Ringed Plover, the Ruff, the Whimbrel, the Little
Stint, and the Curlew Sandpiper is most apparent
in April and May; the Skuas perhaps in April, with
the exception of Buffon’s Skua, that is still passing
the coasts of the northern shires in May and even
early June.

This grand departure of birds, however, does not
appeal to the ordinary observer one quarter as much
as the arrival in spring of the first Swallow or
Cuckoo—birds which he associates inseparably with
the so-called mystery of migration. As it is always
more difficult to detect a departure than note an
arrival, all these other birds slip away during spring
almost without being missed, and more especially so
because few of them are familiar species; whilst such
that are more widely known are usually still repre-
sented by sedentary individuals. We allude to such
species as Wrens, Robins, Titmice, Greenfinches,
Chaffinches, Hedge Sparrows, and so on. To the
ordinary observer, then, spring migration apparently
commences with the appearance of the first of our
usual summer migrants—birds that come to our
country to breed, and leave it again without fail in

Migration in the Northern Shires. 267

autumn. This northern movement is remarked,
even in our northern shires, during the latter half of
March. In the north of England, as it is in the
south, the Chiffchaff is perhaps the most constant
pioneer of the spring migrants. We have known
this bird arrive in Devonshire as early as the 5th of
March; in Yorkshire we have observed it a week
later. These dates are somewhat exceptional, but
we can pretty safely depend upon its appearance
towards the end of that month. The migrations of
the Wheatear are practically coincident in date. In
fact this bird, we believe, has been recorded from
the northern shires as early as February, but this is
certainly abnormal. The migrations of both species
are, however, much more marked in April. Another
March migrant is the Ring-ouzel, but these are
venturesome birds ahead of their companions, and
the usual date of this bird’s arrival in the northern
shires is April. Similarly, the Blackcap has been
known to arrive in March, but its normal date is the
first week or so in April. This latter month brings
the migrants back in constantly increasing numbers,
amongst which we may mention the Redstart, the
Whinchat, the Willow Wren, the Wryneck, and the
Cuckoo. Now during this month, especially during
the latter half, may also be noticed in their old
accustomed haunts the Whitethroat and its con-
gener the Lesser Whitethroat, the Reed Warbler

268 Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

and the Sedge Warbler, the Grasshopper Warbler,
the Tree Pipit, the Pied Flycatcher, the Swallow, and
the two species of Martins. At the end of the
month and early in May come the Garden Warbler,
the Wood Wren, the Tree Pipit, the Spotted Fly-
catcher, the Swift, and the Nightjar. The Merlin
migrates in April, as also does the Hen Harrier;
towards the end of the month we have the Quail,
the Stone Curlew, the Landrail, the Red-necked
Phalarope, the Greenshank, and the Common Sand-
piper. The passage of most of these birds continues
into May, which is the usual date for the arrival of
the Turtle Dove, one of the very last to reach the
northern woodlands. We may remark that many of
our more familiar summer migrants continue to
pass the northern shires well into May—individuals
bound for higher latitudes than Britain.

Spring migration is scarcely over for the year
when signs of the return movement begin to be
seen. Indications of the southern exodus first be-
come apparent upon the coast with the arrival usually
of a few northern wading birds by the middle or
towards the end of July. Records kept along the
coast also show that Wheatears, Swallows, Martins,
Pied Wagtails, Song Thrushes, Robins, Goldcrests,
Wrens, Whitethroats, Starlings, Cuckoos, and Land-
rails are certainly on the move. In August migra-
tion becomes stronger, not only as regards birds that

Migration in the Northern Shires. 269

are coming into our area for the winter, or simply
passing over it to more southern latitudes, ‘but also
those that, having bred in this country, are now
leaving it for winter quarters beyond the English
Channel. Among Passerine birds that are now
entering the British area may be mentioned the
Missel-thrush, the Song Thrush, the Redwing, and
the Blackbird. Each of these, however, will con-
tinue to arrive in much greater numbers during
September and October, the migration dying down
again in November. Stonechats are now returning
to us, as also in small numbers are Robins and Hedge
Accentors, both of which will arrive in greater abund-
ance during the two succeeding months. The same
remarks almost exactly apply to the Titmice, the Gold-
crest, the Wren, and the Pied Wagtail. Amongst
the hard-billed Passeres such birds as_ Linnets,
Greenfinches, Chaffinches, Yellow Buntings, and
Tree Sparrows are also returning; as are also Sky-
larks, Starlings, Rooks, and Short-eared Owls.
Among the Duck family and the Waders, the Ber-
nacle and Brent Geese, the Mallard, the Teal and
Wigeon, the Scaup and the Scoters; Plovers, Turn-
stones, Woodcock and Common Snipe, Ruffs, Red-
shanks, Curlews, Godwits, Dunlins, Knots, and
Sanderlings are now migrating, but their numbers
will enormously increase during the two, or in some

cases even three, succeeding months. But few of

270 =Among the Birds tn Northern Shires.

our own summer birds depart from the northern
shires in August, but there is certainly a coasting

Migrants at a Lighthouse.

movement apparent among most of the species—
individuals coming from more northern areas and

Migration tn the Northern Shires. 271

passing over Britain to winter homes in South
Europe and Africa. There can be little doubt,
however, that many individual Whitethroats, Willow
Wrens, Spotted Flycatchers, and Turtle Doves
move south from their summer haunts in the north-
ern shires during August. During this month the
Swift and the Cuckoo leave us, although some few
of the latter may remain into September. Speaking
of Swifts brings to mind a very extraordinary migra-
tion of this species that we witnessed in the early
part of August, 1879, on the Yorkshire coast at
Flamborough. There must have been tens of
thousands of birds passing down the coast just
below the lighthouse; all day the birds kept migrat-
ing on in a leisurely sort of way, feeding as they
went, and a very large percentage consisted of
young ones. During late August many bands of
Terns migrate south along the Yorkshire coast, not
only from the Farne Islands, but from more northern
stations still.

During September most of our own summer
migrants disappear, but the Ring-ouzel, the Whin-
chat, and the Wheatear prolong their passage into
October, as also does the Whitethroat, the Chiff-
chaff, the Willow Wren, the Sedge Warbler, the
Swallows and Martins, the Common Sandpiper, and
some others, but all in a more or less exceptional
manner. Up to the end of this month birds are

272 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

constantly pouring into our islands from the north
and north-east; in October the general trend of
migration falls to nearly due east, and from this date
onwards some of the most wonderful scenes imagin-
able are to be witnessed upon many parts of our
eastern coast-line, more especially between Spurn
in Yorkshire and the Wash in Lincolnshire. Our
own observations principally refer, so far as this
grand avine movement is concerned, to the latter
district. Here season after season we have watched
during the late October and early November days
that wonderful influx of feathered life that breaks
like the waves of the ocean upon the shore, often
in such multitudes as to defy estimation. Indeed,
we know of no other place on the entire coast-line
of the British Islands where the fascinating phe-
nomenon of migration can be studied to better
advantage. Along this coast, at intervals during
the autumn, birds literally pour in from across the
North Sea, or are tempted to loiter upon it when
following the entire line of our eastern sea-board
to winter quarters far to the south of the British
archipelago. Few wilder districts can be imagined,
few more monotonous, and even dreary, than the
vast expanses of mud and sand that fringe the
Wash. At high-water the tide comes up close to
the huge banks that extend along the coast here,
erected for the purpose of keeping out the sea from

Migration in the Northern Shires. 273
the adjoining farms; although it is said that these
earth-works are the remains of Roman roads. At
low-water the sea is several miles from the banks,
and the vast expanse of mud is scored in many
directions with tortuous streams and long narrow
pools. In summer few birds frequent the place;
in autumn it is a grand resort of birds, being in
the direct pathway of that vast stream of migrants
that flows across the wild North Sea from regions
possibly as remote as Siberia.

Although a very large proportion of indigenous
British birds are migratory—probably the greater
number—a great many of these undertake their
annual journeys in such a very modest and undemon-
strative way that they escape general notice. On
the other hand, there are a certain if small number
of species that migrate in such vast numbers that
even the most casual observer cannot fail to remark
the fact. Of this small proportion the Goldcrest,
the Sky-lark, and the Hooded Crow are certainly
amongst the most prominent. The migrations of
the first-named bird in autumn are sometimes on a
prodigious scale. The autumn of 1882 was remark-
able in this respect, especially as regards the
Yorkshire and Lincolnshire coasts. This migration
appears to have first been recorded from Redcar on
the 13th of August. During this month the birds
came in comparatively small numbers, which did not

(M618 ) Ss

274. Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

appreciably increase during September, but in
October they poured across the North Sea in count-
less thousands, and from all parts of the east coast
came reports of the unusual visitation. Two nights
in October were specially remarkable for the marvel-
lous migration waves of this tiny bird, which not
only spread across England, but reached Ireland,

The Hooded Crow.

and possibly spent themselves in the Atlantic
beyond! So far as concerns our own special length
of coast-line, the migration appeared to reach its
climax on the 8th and the 12th of October, when
vast numbers were recorded from Whitby lighthouse ;
at Flamborough it was reported in unusual abund-
ance between the 7th and the 14th; at Spurn on the
7th and 8th, crowding into the hedgerows and fields
near the sea; whilst on the Lincolnshire side of the
Humber the 8th was remarkable for these migrants,
many of which actually sought refuge amongst the
piles on the quays and in the timber yards at

Migration in the Northern Shires. 275

Grimsby; in the district of the Wash the poor little
birds came on to the coast in a more or less ex-
hausted condition three or four days later, many
migrating at night. One favourite line of migration
into inland districts of the northern shires, not only
of this species, but of Titmice, Chaffinches, Bramb-
lings, and some others, is along the Humber, and
down the valley of the Don, which brings them into
the coppices and fields of South Yorkshire and
North Derbyshire. We have upon many occasions,
during the twenty years or so that we resided in
Sheffield, met with these waves of migrant Gold-
crests and Titmice in the birch and alder coppices of
the Rivelin Valley. This district, as the crow flies,
is sixty miles from Spurn, at the mouth of the
Humber, and about thirty miles from the head of
that vast estuary, with an abundance of suitable
haunts by the way. Yet this vast tract of interven-
ing country has not absorbed the waves of birds,
and we have found them literally swarming in these
Rivelin coppices during October. It is also some-
what remarkable how confined these waves of birds
in many cases are. For instance, we never met
with these birds in numbers at all indicating a strong
migration anywhere beyond the somewhat narrow
limits of this rock-girdled valley. To have reached
it the birds must absolutely have passed over
Sheffield in incredible numbers; they also appeared

276 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

in rushes, that corresponded with similar extensive
incursions on the distant coast.

The Sky-lark is perhaps even more interesting in
its autumnal invasion of the coasts of the northern
shires. Every autumn, especially towards the end
of October or early in November, incredible numbers
of Sky-larks cross the German Ocean both by day
and by night, and land in the district of the Wash,
to name but one locality, although similar phenomena
may be witnessed here and there from one end of
our eastern coast-line to the other, from September
onwards. Year after year have we seen this autumn
invasion of the Sky-lark. Day and night the migra-
tion continues, the birds coming in from the sea in
flocks and smaller parties, flying at a moderate
height, say from thirty to fifty yards above the earth,
and in a by no means hurried manner. We have
repeatedly noticed a few birds commence to warble
the moment they left the sea and reached the land.
Many thousands of these birds continue their way
south along the coast, doubtless in some cases to
follow the rivers inland; others fly inland over the
fields, continuing the exact direction of the course fol-
lowed over the sea. In the same district the autumnal
passage of the Hooded Crow is little if any less im-
pressive. This migration usually commences about
the middle of October, and lasts about a month.
The arrival of this bird in the Wash district is almost

Migration in the Northern Shires 277

regarded with as much interest as the appearance of
the Swallow in spring. Fishermen and farmers in
the locality say that the two birds are never seen in
the air together, meaning by this that the Swallow
has gone to the south before the Crow comes in
from the east. Unlike the two other species we
have just alluded to, the Hooded Crow migrates
exclusively by day—at least that is our invariable
experience. During the periods of its passage the
bird may be remarked coming towards the land from
the sea in parties, in twos and threes, and now and
then in a large open flock, flying at a moderate
height and in a somewhat slow and deliberate
manner. Hundreds of thousands of this species
must enter the British Islands by way of the Wash
alone. Many of these do not penetrate inland far,
but live during the ensuing winter on the farms and
saltings; others, however, follow the river-valleys to
more central areas. It is interesting to remark,
however, that the Hooded Crow does not migrate
down the Humber and the Don valley to South
Yorkshire, where at all seasons it must be regarded
as a rare bird.

There are many other migrants that enter our
islands by way of the Wash, some of them specially
interesting. One of the most remarkable of these is
the Short-eared Owl, another the Woodcock. Very
often these two birds arrive together, making the sea

278 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

passage from the Continent during the same night.
The Woodcock, however, appears to fly high; the
Owl at no great distance from the water. Large
numbers of wading birds also pass along this low
coast in autumn; in October the mud-flats there used
literally to swarm with them. Here might be seen
great flocks of Knots and Dunlins assembled upon
the marshes, whilst on the banks of the many tidal
streams and pools Redshanks, Curlews, Bar-tailed
Godwits, Plovers, and Sanderlings, in parties or
singly, might be watched. Keeping us at a more
respectful distance were large flocks of Brent Geese,
whose noisy clamour came clanging in fitful clashes
across the mud-flats; whilst Wigeon, Scoters, and
various other Ducks bore them more or less close
company. After a migration night it was a most
fascinating experience to wander out at dawn among
the birds. As we reached the second of the banks
nearest to the sea, that crosses the mile or so of
straight road that leads from the cockle and shrimp
famous’ village of Friskney, we often used to flush
Woodcocks from the ditches at the bottom of the
tall whitethorn hedges, and this fact we always re-
garded as a sure indication that the past night had
been a favourable one for migrants. Then more
Woodcocks would be flushed from the long dry
erass,on the sea-banks; perhaps an Owl; but the
latter birds we found to have a greater preference

Migration in the Northern Shires. 279

for the large flat turnip-fields just over the earth-
works. Then perhaps the warbling cry of the
Sky-lark would sound from the still dusky sky—
the note of tired pilgrims that had been winging
their way across the wild sea whilst men slept,
and music which never failed to inspire a feeling
of sympathy in us. Poor tired and hungry little
birds—we always wished them well. Sometimes
we should find the bushes and even the long
grass on the banks crowded with tired Goldcrests;
some of them, poor little mites, so weary that we
have stood and watched them sitting fast asleep or
swaying on the twigs utterly overcome with fatigue
and hunger, quite exhausted and apparently indif-
ferent to their own safety any longer. Then on
some lowering November afternoon an occasional
flock of Snow Buntings would suddenly appear on
the wild salt-marshes, little strangers from an ice-
bound region far away to the north. They would
settle upon the weed-grown places, or perhaps
amongst the drift and tangled sea-weed upon the
shore, and there busily search for food. On other
days, earlier in the autumn, vast flights of Finches
would arrive, and occasionally immense numbers of
such familiar species as Hedge Accentors, Redwings,
and Fieldfares; whilst far overhead at intervals dur-
ing the short autumn days, company after company
of Golden Plovers would be noted either flying down

280 Among the Lirds in Northern Shires.

the coast towards Norfolk or passing inland. A
gale, especially about the time of a new moon, would
be sure to bring us interesting birds to the coast.
Then the Fork-tailed Petrel would as likely as not
be driven ashore; and at such times we have seen
Stormy Petrels flitting about over the roofs of the
cottages at Friskney—lost birds that had rashly
entered the enclosed waters of the Wash and been
blown before the stiff nor’-easter right on to the land.
Now and then a Fulmar would be caught in the
flight nets, and Little Gulls and Great Gray Shrikes
appear, whilst the late autumn days sometimes brings
a succession of flocks of Ring Doves and many odd
Bitterns. Now and then a rare Lapland Bunting
is detected along the shores of the Wash; we have
shot it there in November close to Wainfleet haven.
The Shore Lark is also occasionally met with in this
district.

The mortality amongst these autumn migrants
can scarcely be over-estimated. Young birds of
course predominate in every species, and it is among
them that the death-rate is highest. Gales and dark
nights, with driving rain or fog, are exceptionally
fatal to these journeying birds across the German
Ocean. Some of the scenes at the lighthouses and
light-ships along the coasts of these northern shires
are most impressive on such nights as these. The
lost bewildered birds, attracted by the glare of the

Migration in the Northern Shires. 281

flashing brilliant lamps, crowd round the lanterns,
and many of them not only kill themselves by dash-
ing against the glass but are observed to fall ex-
hausted into the sea below. Birds of many species
compose these lost and bewildered flocks. Adversity
makes strange companions, as the old saying has it,
and never perhaps was it better illustrated than by
a crowd of birds at the lantern of a lighthouse.
Significantly enough, the return passage in spring is
invariably undertaken by numbers scarcely a tithe as
great as in autumn—the bulk of the little pilgrims
having met their fate either on passage or during
the intervening winter.

In the northern shires birds of some species or
another are almost constantly moving about through-
out the winter months. Even in inland localities
this fact is abundantly apparent to the most casual
observer of birds. Rough weather and snow-storms
are almost invariably accompanied or heralded by
wandering flocks of Lapwings and Larks; Finches
and Fieldfares are constantly moving about as the
food supply becomes exhausted or inaccessible in
various districts; Ducks and other water-fowl change
their haunts as frost compels them. We might also
here allude to the considerable amount of vertical
migration that takes place in the northern shires—
that movement between the uplands and the low-
lying country and littoral districts, undertaken by

282 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

such species as Twites, Merlins, Meadow Pipits,
Lapwings, Plovers, Curlews, Mallards, and some
few other Ducks. This movement has already been
described in detail in our accounts of these various
species, sO it is not necessary to treat with it here at
greater length. It is, however, a migrational move-
ment of no small interest, though not a little over-
looked by ordinary observers. Thus does _ the
migration of birds progress, in spring and in autumn,
across these northern shires, the phenomenon being
very similar in its general aspects from year to year.
Variety is, however, furnished in the numbers of the
several species that so migrate, in the dates of their
movements, and also in the occurrences of those
abnormal migrants for which these shires have an
exceptionally abundant share. We have not space
here to chronicle the species that have paid these
shires such abnormal visits, but the subject is cer-
tainly an interesting one and worthy of passing men-
tion at least.

We propose now to devote the concluding pages
of the present chapter to a brief résumé of the
various ornithological events that so thickly dot the
field-naturalist’s calendar, more especially as they
relate to South Yorkshire. There is a great charm
about the observation of these events, that from
year to year take place in sequence that is as re-
markable for its order as for its punctuality; a

Migration in the Northern Shires. 283

greater charm even in recording them season after
season as the birds unfold their story with the pass-
ing months. For a dozen years or more we kept
such a record, dealing more especially with the
environs of Sheffield; season after season we noted
the arrival and departure of the migratory species,
the resumption and the cessation of song, the varying
food from month to month, the pairing and _nest-
building, the rearing of the young; the flocking in
autumn, the disbanding in spring, the habits of birds
at nightfall, their awakening from slumber, their
various local movements about the country-side,
their actions generally in sunshine and in storm, by
daylight and in darkness throughout each month,
each week, each day, and not unfrequently each
hour of the twenty-four. From a store of note-
books which has accumulated through these long
years we will draw our information, that shall carry
the story of the birds onwards in a cycle through the
months from January to December.

The northern shires are not specially remarkable
for avine song during the winter months, and here
we have a deficiency that contrasts very strongly
with that musical abundance of some of the southern
counties. As Waterton remarked long ago, our
three best-known perennial choristers are the Robin,
the Wren, and the Hedge Accentor, of which trio
the first is certainly the most persistent, as it is per-

284. Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

haps the sweetest and most musical, whilst the last
is the least so. The Starling, however, is a very
fair winter singer. The voice of the Missel-thrush is
also heard throughout January, but now and then
we have a day perhaps when he is silent, sure sign
that music is on the wane. Towards the end of the
month the Song Thrushes are back again in their
accustomed haunts, and on exceptionally fine and
sunny days may be heard to sing a little; the Black-
bird, however, is invariably silent. Another irregular
singer in January is the Sky-lark. It requires a
warm and spring-like day indeed to woo him into
voice, still his song must not be overlooked at this
season. So far as most birds are concerned, January
is a typical winter month. There are few signs
among the birds here in South Yorkshire to indicate
any change of seasons. At the end of the month
Sparrows may be remarked at their old nests, and
many Hedge Accentors undoubtedly pair at this
time. The Titmice are still leading a nomad life;
but the Rook and the Starling seldom fail to visit
their nesting-places each morning. The Finches are
of course still in flocks, but a rapid abrasion of the
pale edges to the feathers is remarkable, sure sign
that the nuptial period is now approaching. This is
specially the case with Chaffinches and Bramblings:
Greenfinches abrade later. Yellow Buntings are
still in flocks upon the fields; the Meadow Pipit, yet

Migration in the Northern Shires. 285,

gregarious, is upon the lowlands. The Moorhen,
however, is about to pair; most other of our familiar
birds are still displaying characteristics of their
winter life.

In February, however, there is a marked change
in the habits of many birds, and the few signs of
approaching spring rapidly develop themselves.
Perhaps these indications are most eloquently ex-
pressed in song. During this month the Blackbird
regains his voice, irregularly it is true, but the fact
is obvious nevertheless. The Song Thrush has now
fully regained its matchless varied song; the Sky-
lark sings more frequently, and our winter singers
are in constant voice. Many Kestrels return to
their accustomed summer haunts this month; and
the Missel-thrush pairs at the beginning of it. Many
Robins also pair; and the Titmice may be heard
uttering their love-notes amongst the trees. Star-
lings are now in pairs; and odd pairs of Sparrows
actually commence nesting. March brings. still
more important changes among the birds, and by
many of their ways and movements we read the
unerring sign of spring’s approach. Among other
things may be mentioned the nest-building of the
Rooks, the resumption of song by the Chaffinch
and the Yellow Bunting, the flocks of both species
now disbanding. Avine song is everywhere on the
increase; the Blackbird is getting into finer and

286 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

more frequent voice, the Hedge Accentor and the
Wren are particularly musical; whilst during this
month we may find the first nests of the Song
Thrush and the Missel-thrush, the Robin and the
Hedge Accentor. In the northern shires, however,
these early birds not unfrequently suffer for their
precocity, and a late fall of snow destroys many
nests and eggs. The Dipper is now full of nuptial
song, and the Gray Wagtail resorts to the streams
where shortly it will rear its young. There is also
a considerable migrational movement going on
among Pied Wagtails, and Yellow Wagtails in some
numbers appear upon the fallows. The Bramblings
leave their winter quarters in the shrubberies, and
the numbers of the Redwing visibly decline. The
first indication of our summer birds of passage is
given by some venturesome Chiffchaff or Wheatear;
the flocks of Lapwings are dispersing to their breed-
ing-places; so too are the Mallards. March is
generally a cold and cheerless month in the south
of Yorkshire, and the advance in bird-life is not
unfrequently checked by spells of winter weather.
We find abundant recompense for this, however,
in the avine changes associated with April. The
Missel-thrush now finally becomes mute; but every
other singing species is full of song. Now the Yel-
low Bunting and the Greenfinch are in fine voice,
the Sky-lark warbles incessantly, and the avine

Migration in the Northern Shires. 287

calendar is punctuated with the note of the Cuckoo
once more. Most of our resident birds are now
nesting; migrants appear one after the other as the
month slips away — Willow Wrens,* Whitethroats,

|. The Chiffchaff. 2. The Wheatear,

Blackcaps, Redstarts, Ring-ouzels, Tree Pipits,
Swallows, and Martins among the rest. Grouse are
now breeding.

Bird-life in May perhaps reaches the zenith of its
activity. It is a month of song anda month of love,
during which the nests of nearly all our commoner
birds may be found. It also marks the arrival of

288 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

the last of our summer migrants—the Swift, the
Wood Wren, the Flycatcher, the Nightjar, and the
Turtle Dove especially. Merlins, Plovers, Twites,
and Ring-ouzels are nesting on the moors; Sparrow-
hawks and Kestrels in the woods; where also
Pheasant, Jay, and Magpie are deep in family cares.
Away on the distant coast we also know that sea-
fowl are busy too, crowding on sea-cliff and islet,
repairing to the sands and shingles, for the sole
purpose of reproduction during this and the three
succeeding months. Inland bird-life again presents
marked changes in June. The Common Sandpiper,
which we know came back in April, is now nesting
by the side of upland waters; the Nightjar and the
Turtle Dove are breeding. One significant fact the
chronicler of avine annals will not fail now to remark
is the slight cessation in the glorious concert of the
woods and fields. There is a decided decrease in
song, especially among our earliest breeding birds.
Each may and will be heard to warble on every day
of June, but certainly not in such abundance as.
characterized their melody in May. The Cuckoo is
also in less splendid voice, and not unfrequently cries.
in a treble series of notes instead of the normal
double one. As birds are notably later here than
in south-western counties, we shall also find that
June is certainly a more musical month in Yorkshire
than it is in Devonshire. With the advent of July,

Migration in the Northern Shires. 289

however, the beginning of the end arrives. Thrush,
Blackbird, and Robin sing fitfully, as also do the
Blackcap and Whitethroat and many others. — By
the end of the month much song has ceased, Tree
Pipits and Chaffinches especially becoming mute.
Some birds are still busy with their second or even
third broods, but the moulting season is coming on,
and that is ever a time of moping and of silence.
This month also marks the flocking of many birds,
notably the Ring-ouzel, the Rook, the Twite, the
Meadow Pipit, the Lapwing, and the Curlew. Tits
are also to be seen in family parties, as are also Jays,
Magpies, and Starlings. August is much of a repe-
tition of July among our common birds in inland
northern districts. Moulting is nearly universal;
there is almost a complete cessation of music, and
gregarious instincts are becoming stronger. Already
some of our summer birds are gone before the
middle of the month, especially the Cuckoo and the
Swift. Birds now congregate upon the hay-meadows,
and vast flocks of Sparrows and other Finches resort
to the ripening corn. Migration, of course, is more
apparent along the coast; but from time to time,
during the stillness of the night, a flock of Waders
or Ducks may be detected passing onwards to the
south. Towards the close of August the Robin,
having passed through his moult, in small numbers

regains his song; and the last few days almost
(M618 ) T

290 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

invariably reintroduce us to the glad wild lay of the
Missel-thrush. The Wren is a very irregular singer
yet; but the Starling resumes his music, whilst the
Yellow Bunting and the Greenfinch during the first
fortnight lose theirs for the winter. The Chiffchaff
also is an irregular singer during August.

In September we have migration once more in
full progress. Day by day our summer visitors are
now deserting us; birds that spend the winter gre-
garious are closing up fast into flocks; Pipits, Twites,
and other moorland species come down to the low-
land fields; the Swallows and Martins congregate
into those vast companies that invariably herald
their departure. Song Thrushes in great numbers
frequent the turnip-fields, as also do Meadow Pipits
and Hedge Accentors; by the end of the month
Missel-thrushes are in flocks upon the fields, as also
are Starlings and Sparrows. Now the Ring-ouzels
speed away to the south, and the Blackbird shows
a far too unwelcome partiality for the fruit-garden.
All the Warblers are migrating fast; the Rooks and
Jays complete their moult, as also do the Chaffinch,
the Redpole, and the Yellow Bunting. October,
nut-brown October, finally clears away the last of
our summer visitors, and brings us bird guests from
the far north-east. One of the most familiar of these
is the Redwing; they return with pleasing regularity
to their old haunts. Now the coppices begin to

Migration in the Northern Shires. 291

swarm with migrant Goldcrests and Titmice; the
Merlins leave the moors finally for the winter; a few
Fieldfares come to us; the Stonechat quits the
moorland roughs; the parties of Jays disband; flocks
of Finches resort to the stubbles; the Yellow Bunting
is gregarious once more; many of the Red Grouse
resort to the highest parts of the moors; Pheasants
are still moulting; Woodcocks and Jack Snipes ap-
pear in their accustomed winter haunts. On every
side are indications of avine habits and movements
characteristic of winter. The Robin, the Wren, and
the Missel-thrush are now in charming voice, but
the Starling is only an occasional singer, as is also
the Sky-lark.

With November we welcome the principal arrival
of the Fieldfare; the large flocks of Missel-thrushes
disband; Song Thrushes, and Blackbirds decrease
in numbers almost imperceptibly. The Robin now
shows a marked tendency to leave exposed haunts,
and to draw near to houses and gardens; the Gold-
crests disperse, the Titmice are nothing near so
gregarious; the House Sparrow deserts the fields and
takes up its residence about farmyards and home-
steads; the uplands are now almost entirely deserted;
and shrubberies are filling rapidly with their mixed
avine populations characteristic of the winter; the
Yellow Bunting and the Lesser Redpole are still
upon the stubbles left unploughed, whilst the Pied

292 Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Wagtail resorts to them as soon as the share turns
over the earth. In November the flocks of Bramb-
lings return to the beech-woods for the winter, and

Fieldfare and Titmouse.

bird-life generally becomes much more localized,
crowded into areas where food and shelter chance to
be found most easily. December is but an empha-
sizing of the preceding month. The Kestrel is now

Migration in the Northern Shires. 293

very rarely seen about the South Yorkshire woods
and fields. Now come the periodical snow-storms
that usually punctuate a Yorkshire winter, and with
them bird-life becomes more or less disorganized.
We have now much wandering to and fro, the recur-
ring frosts drive birds from their usual haunts, and we
meet with species in localities where they are seldom
seen at any other time. Many birds change their
food at such times; but others, not so adaptable,
perish in large numbers, especially Redwings. From
time to time flocks of Plovers or strings of Geese
may be seen crossing over from one sea-board to the
other, and the whole month is filled with consider-
able unrest among the feathered tribe. Avine song
in this dreary month is principally confined to the
Missel-thrush, the Robin, the Wren, and the Star-
ling; more rarely the Sky-lark and the Hedge
Accentor sing. And so the month draws on, and
gradually completes the cycle of the year with the
advent of January, the latter bringing with it a few
slight changes that indicate the beginning of another
round of avine phenomena.

THE END.

IN EX

Accentor, Hedge, 182, 183; migration,
265, 269, 279; in turnip fields, 290;
nests in January, 286; song in March,
286; in December, 203; perennial
song, 283.

Africa, 16, 29, 51.

Andes, 17.

Anglia, East, 73.

April, bird movement in 286; song in,
286.

Armin, Stack, 253.

Ashopton moors, 66.

Asia, 16.

Atlantic, 88.

August, bird-life in, 289.

Auk, 228, 231, 232, 241, 250.

Auk, Great, fate of, 39.

Auk, Little, migration, 264.

Bamford, 53, 138.

Banks, 159.

Bass Rock, 240, 244-250.

Bawtry, 149.

Beauchief woodlands, 132.

Beilby on the Dipper, 18.

Bell Hagg, 138, 155.

Bempton, 240, 242.

Bernacle, migration of, 264,

Berwick, 214.

Bewick, 18.

Bird-catcher, mischief done by, 166, 169.

Bittern, 125; migration, 264, 280.

Blackbird, 56, 141, 184, 172, 173; mi-
gration, 263, 269; in September, 290;
in November, 291; song in February,
285; in March, 285-286; in July, 289.

Blackbrook, 14, 155.

Blackcap, 183, 184; migration, 184, 267,
287; song in July, 289.

Blue Hawk, 64.

Borreay, 253.

Bradfield, 53.

Brambling, 141, 165 fig.; 166, 191, 284,
286; migration, 166, 265, 275, 292.

Brent Goose, 234.

Brigg, 127, 128.

Brighthelmstone, 57.

Brisson on the Dipper, 15, 16.

Broom Hall, 183.

Bullfinch, 141, 166, 167.

Bullock, 255.

Bunting, Cirl, 170, 194.

— Common, 170, 214; migration, 265.

— Lapland, migration, 280.

— Reed, 171, 193, 194; migration, 194,
265; song, 171; eggs, 194.

— Riverside, 193.

— Snow, 57, 90, 170; migration, 263-
265.

— Yellow, 116, 170, 171, 194, 284, 290,
291; eggs, 271; migration, 265,
269, 291; song, 281, 286.

Buntings, migration of, 279.

Bustard, 57.

— Thick-kneed, t19.

Buzzard, 84, 133, 144, 236.

— Common, 134, 135 fig.; 136.

— Rough-legged, 66.

Byron, 201.

Caithness, 99, 240.

Capercailzie, 43, 149.

Carron, Loch, 33, 94-

Castleton, 59, 236, 237.

Chaffinch, 164-166, 284, 289, 290; abra-
sion of feathers, 284; migration, 166,
263, 264, 266, 269, 275; song, 164;
285.

Charadriinz, 119.

Chiffchaff, 156, 157, 286, 287 fig.; mi-
gration, 267, 271; song, 290.

Churn Owl, 108.

Cinclus, 17.

Clacharan, 51.

Clumber, 198.

Cockerham Moss, 127.

Connacher, 87, 252, 258.

Continent, 278.

Coot, 193, 195, 197.

Copse, Forest and, 131.

Cormorant, 218, 226.

Corncrake, 176, 177, 178.

Cornwall, 18, 29, 49, 52.

Coulter-neb, 226.

296

Crag and Sea-cliff, On, 236.

Crake, Spotted, 126, 193; migration, 126.

Creeper, 154.

Cromartyshire, 33.

Crossbill, 167.

Crow, Carrion, 89, 90, 147; migration,
265.

— Hooded, 88, 89, 90, 147; migration,
265, 273, 276, 277.

Crows, 132, 137, I5I.

Cuchullin Hills, 76.

Cuckoo, 47, 59, 116, 153, 176, 180, 286,
288; migration, 266-268, 271, 289;
voice, 286, 288.

Cuckoo and Meadow Pipit, 47.

Cuckoo's Mate, 153.

Cumberland, 91.

Curlew, 34, 70, 71, 207; flocking, 289;
migration, 264, 269, 278, 282.

— Stone, 117, 118 fig., 119, 120, 121;
migration, 120, 268; protective
coloration, 117, 118, 120, 121;
local names, 118, 119; eggs, 120.

Dartford, 117.

Dartford Warbler, 116, 117.

Dartmoor, 52, 58, 66, 87.

Darwin, 258.

Daws, 237, 250.

December, bird-life in, 292.

Derbyshire, 13, 19, 24, 52, 59, 68, 82,
106, II7, 133, 134, 148, 149, 167, 168,
171, 196, 203, 208, 236, 239, 275;
changing aspects of moors, 35; varied
bird-life, 35.

Derwent, 14, 25, 34, 66.

— Edge, 53.

Devil's Hole, 237.

Devonshire, 19, 29, 47, 49, 52, 54, 58,
64, 66, 87, 114, 129, 147, 149, 152,
165, 172, 173, 199, 206, 209, 210, 213,
220, 240, 265, 267, 288; tameness of
moors, 35; lack of bird-life on moors,
35:

Dipper, 14, 15 fig., 16-25, 28, 30, 94,
201; difficulties of classification, 15,
16; world distribution, 16; variety of
races, 17; local names, 17; song, 19,
24, 286; evil reputation, 20; useful-
ness, 20; food, 20, 21; habits and
habitat, 20-22; nest, 22, 23.

Diver, Black-throated, 96 fig.

— Red-throated, 96.

Divers, 96, 97, 228; migration, 264;
eggs, 98; nest, 97, 98.

Don, 14, 25, 208, 275, 277.

Doon, 252, 254, 258.

Dore, 14, 53.

Dor-hawk, 109.

Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Dotterel, 90, gt fig., 92, 100; meaning
of name, 92.

Dove, river, 14, 25.

— Ring, 148; migration, 264, 280.

— Rock, 238, 240-241, 250.

— Stock, 137, 144, 148.

— Turtle, 148, 288; migration, 268, 271.

Doves, 132.

Dove-Dale, 236.

Duck, Eider, 73, 102, 218, 222, 225 fig.,

233.
— Long-tailed, 233.
— Tufted, 198, 199 fig., 200; migration,
265; nest, 200; eggs, 200,

— Wild, 33, 98, 99, 144, 145, 197.

Ducks, 72, 95, 192, 198, 207, 218, 228;
migration, 264, 265, 278, 281, 282,
280.

Dukeries, 198, 199.

Dunlin, 70, 71, 193, 207; migration,
265, 266, 269, 278.

Eagle, 66.
— Golden, 82, 83, 236; food, 84.
— White-tailed, 82-84; unclean feeder,

84.
Eccleshall, 132.
Edwindstowe, 142.
Eggs:—
Bunting, Reed, 194.
— Yellow, 171.
Curlew, Stone, 120, 12T.
Diver, 98.
Duck, ‘Tufted, 200.
Fulmar, 258.
Gannet, 247.
Goose, Gray-lag, 73.
Grebe, Little, 19s.
Grouse, Red, 45.
Gull, Herring, 250.
— Lesser Black-backed, 220.
Kingfisher, 205.
Merlin, 62.
Nightjar, 112.
Owl, Short-eared, 125.
Petrel, Fork-tailed, 255.
Plover, Golden, 70.
— Ringed, 212.
Ptarmigan, 8t.
Sandpiper, Common, 31.
Shearwater, Manx, 256.
Sheldrake, 216.
Swan, 108.
Tern, Arctic, 224.
— Common, 225.
— Lesser, 211.
— Sandwich, 223.
Twite, so.
Whinchat, 175.

L[ndex.

Eider, King, 234.

— Duck, 73, 102, 218, 222, 225 fig., 233.
Endcliffe, 170-171.

— Valley, 189.

— Woods, 25.

English Channel, 218, 233, 234.
Europe, 16, 17.

Eve-jar, 109.

Evening-jar, 109.

Exmoor, 58.

Falcon, 59, 60, 62, 63, 84.

— Peregrine, 59, 76-78, 85, 86, 239, 250.

Farm and Garden, In, 158.

Farne Islands, 212, 213, 214, 217, 221,
225-227, 240, 242, 243, 271.

Faroes, 71.

February, bird-life in, 285.

Fern Owl, 108.

Fieldfare, 172, 182, 292 fig.; migration,
172, 263, 265, 279, 281, 291.

Filey, 240.

Finches, 48, 164, 170, 279, 284, 289;
migration, 265, 281, 261.

Flamborough, 213, 240, 242, 271, 274.

Flocking, 289.

Flycatcher, Pied, migration, 268.

— Spotted, migration, 268.

Flycatchers, 141, 183, 271, 288.

Follart, Loch, tro2.

Forest and Copse, In, 131.

Formosa, 16.

Forth, Firth of, 209, 210, 216, 244, 248.

Friskney, 278, 280.

Fulmar, 87, 232, 252, 257 fig.; 259, 260;
migration, 280; nest, 258; eggs, 258.

Furze Kite, 64.

Gannet, 229, 234, 244, 245 fig., 246, 253,
254, 260; nest, 247-249; eggs, 247.

Garden, In Farm and, 158.

Geese, 192, 228, 293; migration, 264.

German Ocean, 218, 276, 280.

Gilgit, 63.

Goatsucker, 106, 107.

Godwit, Bar-tailed, 207; migration, 278.

Godwits, 266, 269.

Goldcrest, 138, 154, I9I, 291; migra-
tion, 265, 268, 269, 273, 275, 279, 291.

Golden-eye, 265.

Goldfinch, 169; migration, 265.

Goosander, 102.

Goose, Bean, 215, 265.

— Bernacle, 269.

— Brent, 234; migration, 264, 269, 278.

— Gray-lag, 73; eggs, 73; nest, 73.

— Pink-footed, 233; migration, 26s.

— White-footed, 265.

— Wild, 34.

297

Grace Darling, 217.
Grasshopper Warbler, 111, 116; migra-
tion, 268.

Gray-lag Goose, 73; eggs, 73.

Grebe; 21, 23; 197:

— Little, 195; eggs, 195; nest, 195.

— Red-necked, 264.

— Sclavonian, 264.

Greenfinch, 141, 169, 284, 290; migra-
tion, 263, 264, 266, 269; song, 286.
Greenshank, 34, 72, 93; migration, 268.

Grimsby, 275.

Grouse, 34, 59, 60, 287.

— Black, 43, 121, 149, 150 fig.

— Red, 38 fig., 39-46, 57, 75; preserva-
tion of, 38, 39; monogamous, 43;
protective coloration, 43, 44, 79;
migration, 291; nest, 44; eggs, 45.

— Willow, 43, 80.

Guillemot, Black, 103.

— Common, 103, 231.

— Ringed, 231.

Guillemots, 218, 229, 231, 240-243, 250,

254.
Gull, Black-headed, 127, 128 fig., 129,
130; nest, 129.
— Common, 94, 102,
— Herring, 210, 220, 249, 250; eggs, 250.
— Lesser Black-backed, 218, 219 fig.,
250; nest, 219; eggs, 220.
Gulls, 73, 102, 193, 206, 214, 218, 222,
228, 229 fig., 241; migration, 280.

Halcyon, 202.
— Days, 202.
Handa, Bird-haunted, frontispiece.
Harrier, Hen, 63-65; migration, 63, 266,
268.
— Marsh, 125.
Hathersage, 14, 53.
Hawfinch, 167, 184.
Hawk, Blue, 64.
— Dor-. tog.
— Ring-tail, 64.
— Sparrow-, 61, 65, 66, 133, 136-138,
164, 184; migration, 264; nesting,
288.
Hawks, 132, 139, 140, 144, ISI.
Heather Lintie, 48.
Heaths and Marshes, ros.
Hebrides, 13, 52, 71, 73, 83, 97, 99, 102,
103, 208, 213, 240.
Hedge Accentor. See Accentor.
Heeley, 42, 159.
Heron, 32, 34, 196, 197, 201.
Highlands, 13, 18, 19, 26, 29, 30, 32, 35,
36, 38, 47, 51, 57, 66, 73, 82, 87, 88,
99, Io, 102.
Himalayas, 16.

298

Hobbys, 133, 144.

Hollow Meadows, 21, 30, 52, 59, 138,
192, 238.

Holy Island, 216.

Hoopoe, 205.

Hornsea Mere, 195, 201.

Humber, 206, 207, 208, 213, 274, 275, 277.

Iceland, 71.
Ireland, 152, 154.
Isle of Man, 82, 89.

Jackdaw, 142-144, 237, 240, 250; mi-
gration, 264.

Jack Snipe, 127, 181, 291; migration,
181, 265,

January, bird-life in, 284.

Jay, 132, 139, 140, 142, 149, 180, 184,
265, 288-290; migration, 265, 291.

Jessop, Francis, 156, 183, 189.

July, bird-life in, 288-289.

June, bird-life in, 288.

Kent, 117.

Kestrel, 62, 65, 82, 113, 133, 136, 137,
184, 239, 285, 292, 293.

King Eider, 234.

Kingfisher, 18, 21, 25, 34, 187, 188 fig.,
189, 197; method of feeding, 21;
legends concerning, 201-204; nest,
204; eggs, 205; note, 205.

Kite, Furze, 64.

Kites, 133.

Kittiwake, 221, 243, 249, 250.

Knot, 207; migration, 266, 269.

Lagopus albus, 43, 79, 8o.

Lake District, 230.

Lambs, destruction of, by Eagles, 84, 85.
Lancashire, 125, 127.

Landrail, 176-178; migration, 268.
Lapwing, 67 fig., 68-70, 126, 127, 182,
286, 289; migration, 264, 281, 282.

Lark, Shore, migration, 264, 280.

—Sky-. See Sty-lark.

— Wood-, 113-115; nest, 115; song,

TI3, 114.

Larks, 182; migration, 281.

Lii, Stack, 253.

Lincolnshire, 106, 117, 127, 128, 209,
210, 213, 261, 262, 272-274.

Linnzeus, on the Dipper, 16.

Linnet, 48, 50, 116, 168, 169; migration,
263, 264, 269. 7

Lintie, Heather, 48.

Loch, Mountain and, 74.

Lundy Island, 82.

Macgillivray, 246.

Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Magpie, 132, 137-140, 180; flocking,
289; nesting, 288.
Mallard, 32, 72, 98, 99, 122, 200, 233,
286; migration, 264, 269, 282.
March, bird-life in, 285.
Marlowe, 203.
Marshes, 105.
Martin, House, 238.
— Sand, 192.
Martins, 180, 192, 196, 197, 287; mi-
gration, 192, 268, 271, 290.
Mason, Little, 51.
May, bird-life in, 287, 288.
Meersbrook, 14, 159.
Meersbrook Park, 140.
Merganser, 94.
— Red-breasted, 96 fig., 99, ror.
Merlin, 57, 58 fig., 59-63; migration,
266, 268, 282, 291; nesting, 288; eggs,
62.
Mersey, 206.
Migrants at a Lighthouse, 270 fig.
Migration :—
Accentor, Hedge, 265, 269, 279.
Auk, Little, 264.
Bernacle, 264.
Bittern, 264, 280.
Blackbird, 263, 269.
Blackcap, 184, 267, 287.
Brambling, 166, 265, 275, 292.
Bunting, Common, 265.
— Lapland, 280.
— Reed, 194, 265.
— Snow, 263-265.
— Yellow, 265, 269, 291.
Buntings, 279.
Chaffinch, 166, 263, 264, 266, 260, 275.
Chiffchaff, 267, 271.
Crake, Spotted, 126.
Crow, Carrion, 265.
— Hooded, 265, 273, 276, 277.
Cuckoo, 266-268, 271, 289.
Curlew, 264, 269, 278, 282.
— Stone, 120, 268.
Divers, 264.
Dove, Ring, 264, 280.
— Turtle, 268, 271.
Duck, Tufted, 265.
Ducks, 264, 265, 278, 281, 282, 289.
Dunlin, 265, 266, 260, 278.
Fieldfare, 172, 263, 265, 279, 281, 201.
Finches, 265, 281, 291.
Flycatcher, Pied, 268.
— Spotted, 268.
Fulmar, 280.
Geese, 264.
Godwit, 278.
Goldcrest, 265, 268, 269, 273, 275,
279, 291.

Index. 299

Migration (continued) :—

Goldfinch, 265.

Goose, Brent, 264, 269, 278.

— Pink-footed, 265. ,

Greenfinch, 263, 264, 266, 269.

Greenshank, 268.

Grouse, Red, 291.

Gulls, 280.

Harrier, Hen, 63, 266, 268.

Hawk, Sparrow-, 264.

Jackdaw, 264.

Jay, 265, 201.

Knot, 266, 269.

Landrail, 268.

Lapwing, 264, 281, 282.

Lark, Shore, 264, 280.

Larks, 281.

Linnet, 263, 264, 269.

Mallard, 264, 269, 282.

Martins, 192, 268, 271, 290.

Merlin, 266, 268, 282, 291.

Nightjar, tog, 110, 268.

Ouzel, Ring-, 53, 54, 267, 271, 290.

Owl, Short-eared, 265, 269, 277, 278.

Owls, 278.

Phalarope, Red-necked, 268.

Pipit, Meadow, 46, 47, 282.

— Tree, 268.

Pipits, 290.

Plover, Golden, 264, 279.

— Gray, 265, 266.

— Ringed, 266.

Plovers, 265, 269, 278, 282.

Quail, 268.

Rail, Land, 268.

Redshank, 264, 269, 278.

Redstart, 267.

Redwing, 166, 172, 263, 265, 269,
279, 290.

Robin, 263, 266, 268 269.

Rook, 264, 269.

Ruff, 266.

Sanderling, 265, 266, 269, 278.

Sandpiper, 271.

— Common, 29, 268.

— Curlew, 266.

Scaup, 269.

Scoter, 265, 269, 278.

Shrike, Great Gray, 280.

Skua, 266.

— Buffon's, 266.

Sky-lark, 178, 264, 269, 273, 276, 279.

Snipe, 264.

— Common, 269.

— Jack, 181, 265.
Sparrow, Hedge, 266.

— House, 263-264 note.

— Tree, 263, 269.

Starling, 264, 265, 268, 269.

Migration (continued) :—
Stint, Little, 266.
Stonechat, 265, 269, 201.
Swallow, 192, 266, 268, 271, 277, 290.
Swan, 264.
Swift, 268, 270 fig., 271, 289.
Teal, 265, 269.
Ler, 272.
Thrush, Missel-, 269, 291.
— Song, 263.
Titmice, 265, 266, 269, 275, 291.
Turnstone, 269.
Twite, 282, 290.
Waders, 265, 289.
Wagtail, Gray, 24.
— Pied, 265, 266, 268, 269.
Warbler, Garden, 268.
— Grasshopper, 268.
— Reed, 267.
— Sedge, 268, 271.
Warblers, 290.
Wheatear, 51, 267.
Whimbrel, 266.
Whinchat, 267, 271.
Whitethroat, 267, 271.
— Lesser, 267.
Wigeon, 265, 269, 278.
Woodcock, 264-266.
Wren, 265, 266.
— Willow, 267, 271.
— Wood, 268.
Wryneck, 267.
Migration in the Northern Shires, 261.
Millers Dale, 236.
Minsben’s Dictionary, 202.
Missel-thrush, 24, 55, I20, 124, 146,
147, 172, 285, 286, 290; migration,
269, 291; song, 284, 290, 291, 293.
Monsal Dale, 236.
Montagu, 64.
Moorhen, 21, 23, 126, 182, 188, 189,
195, 197.
Moorland fires, 41, 42.
Moorlands and Roughs, 35.
Mountain and Loch, 74.

Nests :—
Accentor, Hedge, 286.
Dipper, 22, 23.
Divers, 97, 98.
Duck, Tufted, 200.
Fulmar, 258.
Gannet, 247-249.
Goose, Gray-lag, 73.
Grebe, Little, 195.
Grouse, Red, 44.
Gull, Black-headed, 129.
— Lesser Black-backed, 219.
Kingfisher, 204.

300

Nests (continued) :—

Owl, Short-eared, 124, 125.
Petrel, Fork-tailed, 254-255.
Pipit, Meadow, 48.

Plover, Golden, 7o.
Ptarmigan, 81.

Puffin, 227.

Robin, 286.

Shearwater, Manx, 256.
Sheldrake, 215, 216.

Swan, 198.

Twite, 50.

Wagtail, Gray, 26, 27.
Wheatear, 51.

Whinchat, 175.

Woodlark, 115.

Newstead, 198.

Newstead Abbey, 201.

Newton, Professor, on the Dipper, 18;
on the Garden Warbler, 183; on the
Kingfisher, 203.

Night-crow, 109.

Night-hawk, 106.

Nightingale, 155.

Nightjar, 106, 107 fig., 1to8-113, 140,
154, 256, 288; evil repute, 106, 107;
names, 106-109; migration, 109, I10,
268; note, 111; colour, III, I1I2;
nesting, 288; eggs, I1I2.

Norfolk, 117, 280.

Norfolk Plover, 119.

North Sea, 272-274.

Northumberland, 213.

Norton Lees, 159.

Norway, 50.

Nottinghamshire, 114, 134, 198, 200,
208.

November, bird-life in, 291.

Nuthatch, 154.

October, bird-life in, 290.

Orkneys, 52, 71, 83, 99, 209, 240.

Osprey, 94, 95-

Ouzel, Mountain, 52.

— Ring-, 34, 52, 53 fig-, 54-57, 59 171,
184; flocking, 289; migration, 53,
54, 267, 271, 290; nesting, 288;
song, 55.

— Tor, 52.

— Water, 18.

Ouzels, 287.

Owl, Barn, 184,

— Churn, 108.

— Fern, 108.

— Long-eared, 137.

— Short-eared, 122, 123 fig., 124, 125;
migration, 265, 269, 277, 278;
nest, 124, 125; eggs, 125.

— Tawny, 144.

Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Owls, 20, 110, I12, 140, 144, 151, 185,
256; migration, 278.

Owler Bar, 53.

Oyster-catcher, 104, 210, 218, 226.

Partridge, English, rar.

— Red-legged, rer.

Partridges, 43, 107, 181.

Passeres, 16, 132, 154.

Passerines, 46, II5, 127.

Peak District, 13, 34, 52, 82, 236, 238.

Pennine chain, 52.

Pentland Firth, 240.

Penzance, 49.

Peregrine, 59, 76-78, 85, 86, 239, 250.
Petrel, Fork-tailed, 232, 254, 255 fig.,
280; nest, 254-255; eggs, 255, 256.

— Stormy, 193, 232, 256, 280.

Petrels, 232, 233, 258, 260.

Pettichaps, 183.

.Peveril Castle, 237.

Phalarope, Red-necked, 93, 99, 100;

migration, 268.

Pheasant, 43, I07, I2I, 132, 135, 142,
145, 148, 149, 151, 288, 201.

Picidae, 154.

Pigeon, 82, 148.

Pinnacles, 240, 243.

Pipit, Meadow, 46-48, 59, 127, 284,
290; flocking, 289; migration, 46, 47,
282; nesting, 47, 48; song, 47.

— Rock, 213, 226.

— Tree, 114, 175, 287, 289; migration,

268.

Pipits, 181, 187; migration, 290.

Plover, Golden, 69, 70; migration, 264,
279; nest, 7O; eggs, 7.

— Gray, migration, 265, 266.

— Norfolk, 119.

— Ringed, 104, 193, 206, 207, 210, 21
fig., 212, 218, 225; migration, 266;
eggs, 212.

— Stone, 119.

— Thick-kneed, r1o.

Plovers, 34, 59, 66-68, 93, 94, 293 ; migra-

tion, 265, 269, 278, 282; nesting, 288.

Pochard, 201, 207.

Pool, By River and, 186.

Protection of birds, 38.

Protective coloration: Curlew, Stone,
117, 118, 120, 121; Grouse, Red, 43,
79; Grouse, Willow, 80; Gull, Lesser
Black- backed, 220; Plover, 212:
Ptarmigan, 76-79; Tern, Lesser, 211;
Tern, Sandwich, 223.

Ptarmigan, 42, 75, 76, 78, 80, 81, 83;
protective coloration, 76, 78; note,
81; nest, 81; eggs, 81.

Puckeridge, 109.

Index. 301

Puffin, 218, 226, 227, 231, 242, 244,
250, 254; nest, 227.

Quail, migration, 268.

Rail, Land, 176-178; migration, 268.
— Water, 125, 126, 193, 197.
Raptores, 61, 65.

Raven, 66, 76, 77 fig., 87, 88, 236.

Rawlinson, 134.

Ray, 183.

Razorbill, 103, 231, 240, 241 fig., 242,
250, 254.

Redcar, 194, 273.

Redmires, 30, 139.

Redpole, 33, 189, 190, 290.

— Lesser, 168, 169, 170, 291.

Redshank, 33, 72, 94, 126; migration,
264, 269, 278.

Redstart, 155, 183, 239, 287; migration,
267.

Redwing, 127, 141, 166, 172, 173, 182,
286, 293; migration, 166, 172, 263,
265, 269, 279, 290.

Ribble, 206.

Rivelin, 14, 21.

Rivelin Valley, 48, 52, 53, 54) 59, 132,
138, 146, 154, 238, 275.

River and Pool, By, 186.

Robin, 141, 182, 183, 285, 291; song,
19, 289, 291, 293; perennial song, 19,
283; nest, 286; migration, 263, 266,
268, 269.

Robin Hood, 143.

Rockier, 148.

Rocky Mountains, 17.

Rodd, 50.

Rook, 127, 129, 141, 144, 159, 160, 161
fig., 162, 196, 290; service to farmers,
160; flocking, 289; migration, 264,
269; nesting, 284, 285.

Ross-shire, 94, 99.

Rough, meaning of, 35 note.

Roughs, Moorlands and, 35.

Ruff, migration, 266.

Saint Kilda, 87, 89, 90, 209, 240, 251-
257, 260.

Sanderling, 207; migration, 265, 266,
269, 278.

Sandpiper, 16, 66, 70, 93, 94; migra-
tion, 271.

— Common, 28 fig., 29-32, 59, 60, 207;
migration, 29, 268; nesting, 288;
attachment to nesting-place, 29,
30; eggs, 31; note, 32.

— Curlew, 207; migration, 266.

Sawbill, ror.

Scandinavia, 17.

Scaup, 207, 233; migration, 269.

Scolopacineze, 119.

Scoter, 99, 233; migration, 265, 269, 278.

Scotland, 27, 30, 51, 52, 133, 152.

Scrapire, 257.

Scully, Dr., 63.

Sea and Shore, On, 209.

Sea-cliff, On Crag and, 236.

September, bird-life in, 290.

Shakespeare, on the Kingfisher, 202.

Sheaf, 14, 25.

Shearwater, 258, 232.

— Manx, 232, 256; nest, 256; eggs, 256.

Sheffield, 25, 30, 34, 46, 53, 59, 106,
II7, 141, 154-156, 159, 171, 183, 187,
189, 275, 283.

Sheldrake, 73, 102, 214, 215 fig., 233;
nest, 215, 216; eggs, 216,

Sherwood Forest, 99, 106,
142, 146, 156, 198.

Shetlands, 29, 50, 71, 83, 99, 152, 209,
240,

Shore, On Sea and, 2009.

Shoveler, 200.

Shrike, Great Gray, migration, 280.

Siberia, 273.

Siskin, 33, 167, 170, 189-191.

Skua, 228; migration, 266.

— Buffon's, migration, 266.

1221-132)

Sky-lark, 19, 52, II4, 115, 127, 178;
migration, 178, 264, 269, 273, 276,
279; song, I14, 115, 284-286, 291,

293:
Skye, 26, 31, 33, 64, 76, 83, 86, 102.
Sligachan, 87.
Snipe, 34, 70, 71, 147; drumming, 71;
migration, 264.
— Common, 126; migration, 269.
— Jack, 127, 181, 291; migration, 181,
265.
— Summer, 28, 30.
Soay, 253, 256.
Solway, 206.
Somerset, 52.
Song note :—
Accentor, Hedge, 283, 286, 292.
Blackbird, 285, 286, 289.
Blackcap, 289.
Bunting, Reed, 171.
— Yellow, 281, 286.
Chaffinch, 164, 285.
Chiffchaff, 2go.
Cuckoo, 286, 288.
Curlew, 71.
Dipper, 19, 24, 286
Greenfinch, 286.
Kingfisher, 205.
Nightjar, 111.
Ouzel, Ring-, 55.

302

Song note (continued) :—

Pipit, Meadow, 47.

Ptarmigan, 81. ,

Robin, 19, 289, 291, 293; perennial,
19, 283.

Sandpiper, 32.

Sky-lark, 114, 115, 284-286, 291, 293.

Starling, 163, 177, 284, 290, 291, 293.

Thrush, Missel-, 284, 290, 291, 293.

— Song, 28s.

Twite, 48.

Wagtail, Gray, 26, 27.

Warbler, Garden, 183, 184.

— Grasshopper, 116.

— Sedge, 127.

Wheatear, 51.

Whitethroat, 280.

Wood-lark, 113, 114.

Wren, 286, 290, 291, 293; perennial,
383.

Sparrow, in August, 289; in September,
290; nest in January, 284; in Febru-
ary, 285.

Sparrow, Hedge, migration, 266.

— House, 163, 170, 291; migration,

263-264 note; voracity, 163, 170.

— Tree, 167; migration, 263, 269.

Sparrow-hawk, 61, 65, 66, 133, 136-138,
164, 184; migration, 264; nesting, 288.

Speeton, 240.

Spurn, 213, 272, 274, 275.

Stack Armin, 253.

Stanage Edge, 53.

Starling, 16, 127, 143, 162, 184, 205,
238, 290; flocking, 289; migration,
264, 265, 268, 269; pairing, 284, 285;
song, 163, 177, 284, 290, 291, 293.

Stint, Little, migration, 266.

Stints, 207.

Stonechat, 52, 116; migration, 265, 269,
201. :

Stone-clatter, 51.

Stone Curlew, 117, 118 fig., 119-12T1;
protective coloration, 117, 118, 120,
121; local names, 118, 119; migra-
tion, 120, 268; eggs, 120.

Stone Plover, 119.

Storer, 203.

Stormcock, 56, 172.

Strome Ferry, 33, 94.

Sturnus, 16,

Suffolk, 117.

Sunderland, 214.

Sussex Downs, 57.

Sutherland, 99, 240.

Swallow, 29, 51, 180, 192, 196, 197, 287;
migration, 192, 266, 268, 271, 277, 290.

Swan, 192, 198, 208, 215; nest, 198;

eggs, 198; migration, 264.

Among the Birds in Northern Shires.

Swan, Bewick's, 192, 208.

Swift, 185, 196, 239, 288; migration,
260, 271, 280.

Talisker, 86, 88,

Teal, 73, 99, 193, 197, 200; migration,
265, 269.

Tees, 208.

Tern, 73, 102, 206, 218, 228, 229 fig.,

230; migration, 271.
— Arctic, 103, 206, 221, 223; eggs, 224.
— Common, 103, 206, 221, 224; eggs,
225.

— Lesser, 206, 210, 211 fig., 212; eggs,

art.

— Roseate, 221.

— Sandwich, 206, 221-223; eggs, 223.

Thick-knee, 117, 119.

Thorne, 127.

Thrush, 16, 54, 55, 57, 141, 171, 177, 181.

— Missel-, 24, 55, 120, 124, 146, 147,

172, 285, 286, 290; migration, 269-
291; song, 284, 290, 291, 293.

Song, 19, 23, 172, 173, 289, 290;
migration, 263, 264, 268, 269, 291;
nest, 286; song, 285.

Tit, 191, flocking, 280.

— Crested, 154.

Titlark, 34.

Titmice, 34, 141, 154, 183, 190 fig., ror,

284, 291; migration, 265, 266, 269,
275, 291; pairing, 285.

Titmouse, 2092 fig.

— Bearded, 154.

Torquay, 87.

Totani, 71.

Totley, 132.

Tringa merula aquatica, 16.

Tunstall, on the Dipper, 18.

Turnstone, migration, 269.

Twigmoor, 127.

Twite, 34, 48, 49 fig., 50, 51, 59, 168,
169; flocking, 289; migration, 282,
290; nest, 50; nesting, 280; note, 48;
eggs, 50.

Tyne, 206.

Upland Streams, By, 11.
Vieillot, 255.

Waders, migration, 265, 289.

Wagtail, Gray, 24, 25 fig., 26-28, 30,
180, 189, 194-195, 201, 286; mi-
gration, 24; nest, 26, 27; song,
26, 27, attachment to breeding-
place, 27.

— Pied, 178, 180, 192, 194-195, 286,
291-292; migration, 265, 266, 268,
269.

Index.

Wagtail, Yellow, 178, 179 fig., 180, 286.

Wagtails, 187.

Wainfleet, 280.

Wales, 52, 58, 133-

Walton Hall, 196.

— Park, 193.

Warbler, Dartford, 116, 117.

— Garden, 183; migration, 268; song,

183, 184.

— Grasshopper, III, 116;

Py 268; song, 116.

— Reed, 127, 195; migration, 267.

— Sedge, 127, 155, 195; migration, 268,

271; song, 127.

Warblers, 141, 181; migration, 290.

Wash, 208, 210, 235, 272, 275-277, 280.

Water-crow, 18, 31.

Water-ouzel, 18.

Water-rail, 125, 126, 193, 197.

Waterton, Charles, 193, 283.

Western Isles, 19.

Wharncliffe, 236.

— Crags, 106,

— Woods, 132, 149.

Wheatear, 51, 155, 239, 286, 287 fig.;
migration, 51, 267, 268, 271; nest, 51;
note SI.

Wheel-bird, rog.

Whimbrel, 71, 207; migration, 266.

Whinchat, 173, 174 fig.; migration, 267,
271; nest, 175; eggs, 175.

Whitby, 274.

White, Gilbert, 57.

Whitethroat, 115, 268, 287; migration,

267, 271; song, 289.

— Lesser, migration, 267.

Whoopers, 208.

migration,

a5

Wigeon, 73, 193, 197, 233; migration,
265, 269, 278.

Wight, Isle of, 82.

Willow Grouse, 43, 80.

Willughby, 183.

Woodcock, 144, 145 fig., 181, 291;
migration, 264-266, 269, 277, 278.
Wood-lark, 113-115; nest, 115; song,

113, IT4.

Woodpecker, 132, 151, 3154; absent
from Ireland and Scotland, 152.

— Greater Spotted, 152, 153 fig.

— Green, ISI, 152.

— Lesser Spotted, 152. ¢

Wren, 16, 22, 47, 141, 182, 183, 251,
252; migration, 265, 266, 268, 269;
song, 286, 290, 291, 293; perennial
songster, 283.

— Willow, 155-157,
2675271.

— Wood, 156, 157, 288; migration, 268.

Writing Lark, 171.

Wryneck, 153, 154; migration, 267.

Wye, 14, 25.

Wyming Brook, 14, 30, 138.

287; migration,

Yoldring, 171.

Yorkshire, 12, 13, 19, 20, 24, 29, 44-47,
SI, 52, 54, 64-66, 68, 71, 106, 117,
125, 127, 133, 134, 147, 148, 152, 154,
155, 165, 167, 168, 170-173, 175, 181,
183, 184, I90, 193-196, 201, 203, 208,
210, 213, 236, 237, 239, 240, 261-263,
265, 267, 271-273, 275) 277; 286, 288,
293.

Yorkshire moors, changing aspects of,
35; varied bird-life on, 35.

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