>£- QL690 .G7C448 1907 EX LI BR IS ERNEST ALAN VAN VLECK m. "R sumrjfr / v gpyr+T^nHi1'' httns»* y FOR THE PEOPLE FOR EDVCATION FOR SCIENCE i LIBRARY OF THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY -iy\r- iv-:: ; V QL690 .G7C53 1907 ** BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS First Edition .... 1889 SECOND EDITION (in great part re-written and enlarged') .... 1 907 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS ON MOORLAND AND SEA WITH FAUNAL NOTES EXTENDING OVER FORTY YEARS BY ABEL CHAPMAN, F. Z. S. MEMBER OF THE BRITISH ORNITHOLOGISTS' UNION A1THOR OF "THE ART OF WILDFOWLING," " WILD NORWAY," AND "WILD SPAIN " (THE LAST JOINTLY WITH WALTER J. BUCK) WITH COLOURED MAP, AND NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON GURNEY AND JACKSON, 10 PATERNOSTER ROW (SUCCESSORS TO MR VAN VOORST) 1907 34 PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION The first edition of this work was published in 1889, and having- for several years past been very scarce, a second edition has now been called for. To the preparation of this I have devoted more than a year's work and thought. The first section of the book — that relating to the Cheviots and moorlands of the Border — has been practically re- written, and on a broader basis. The second part, which treats of the north-eastern sea-board, has needed less extension, since it was founded in the first instance on long years of solid experience in wildfowling afloat ; and, as herein revised, it now forms, I believe, as complete a delineation of the lives of these wild and scarce-known birds as any one man may hope to produce. Since the publication of the original work, a grave calamity has befallen me in the loss of nearly all my earlier ornithological friends, particularly of two brothers — constant companions on fell and flood. This new edition has perforce been written alone, without that earlier assistance and sympathy. Fortunately there is one notable exception, and the same kind eye has revised the proof-sheets of this edition as in the first instance. The illustrations include several sepia-drawings from my Art of Wild foiv ling, reproduced by kind permission v a 1 vi PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION of Mr Horace Cox, the publisher of that work. The rest (with the exception of a beautiful drawing" by my friend, Mr Charles Whymper) are the rough pen-and-ink sketches of the original edition. These nowadays may appear crude ; but they are from life, and some of them may possess a fidelity which is not necessarily assured by more artistic treatment. I have endeavoured to address these chapters, not so much to ornithologists (though they may glean stray grains therein) as to the average reader who possesses some love for the "outbye" country and its bird-life in their wilder aspects. Abel Chapman. Houxtv, W'ARK, Northumberland, February 1907. CONTENTS CHAPTER I PACK Moorlands of the Border .... . r CHAPTER II The Vernal Migration . . . . . . 1 1 CHAPTER III Early Spring on the Moors ..... 24 CHAPTER IV Spring-time on the Moors {continued) . . . -38 CHAPTER V Stray Notes on the Game-Fish ..... 56 CHAPTER VI May on the Moors ...... 69 CHAPTER VII Summer on the Moors ...... 88 CHAPTER VIII Summer on the Moors (concluded) . . . . .10; viii CONTENTS CHAPTER IX PAGE Cheviot ......... 112 CHAPTER X The Process of Migration . . . . - .123 CHAPTER XI Fascicula . . . . . . . .132 CHAPTER XII Stationary Species ....... H7 CHAPTER XIII Some Recollections of the Twelfth . . . 152 CHAPTER XIV Notes on Grouse-Disease . . . . . .163 CHAPTER XV Moorland Birds in August . . . . . i74 CHAPTER XVI Autumn on the Moors— (i) September. . . . .186 CHAPTER XVII Blackgame . . . . . . . .201 CHAPTER XVIII Autumn on the Moors — (2) October. . . . -215 CHAPTER XIX Autumn on the Moors — (3) October {concluded) . . .227 CHAPTER XX Moorgame in Mid-Autumn ...... 239 CONTENTS CHAPTER XXI Winter . CHAPTER XXIII Wildfowl of the North-East Coast CHAPTER XXV The Game-Ducks .... CHAPTER XXVIII Among the Wild Geese CHAPTER XXIX Grey-Geese ..... CHAPTER XXX Diving-Ducks ..... CHAPTER XXXI Sea-Duck . CHAPTER XXXII Waders PAQK 252 CHAPTER XXII Wild Pigeons ....... 267 279 CHAPTER XXIV Wildfowl of the North-East Coast {continued) . . 288 297 CHAPTER XXVI Midnight on the Oozes . . . . . .319 CHAPTER XXVII Brent Geese ..... . 326 338 344 355 . 368 382 x CONTENTS CHAPTER XXXIII PAGE Observations on Godwits, Sandpipers, Plovers, and other Waders ........ 395 CHAPTER XXXIV Grebes and Divers ....... 406 CHAPTER XXXV Contrasts in Wildfowling— (1) A Mild Season . .411 CHAPTER XXXVI Contrasts in Wildfowling — (2) A Severe Season . . 419 CHAPTER XXXVII Sundry Incidents of Fowl and Fowling . . . 428 CHAPTER XXXVIII Difficulties and Dangers of the Gunning-Punt . . 439 CHAPTER XXXIX The Last Day of Wildfowling . . . . .445 Index . . . . . . . . .451 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS Brent Geese on the Northumbrian Coast Map, drawn by Dr Edward A. Wilson Curlews in Spring .... Blackcock and Greyhens — April Home of the Dipper .... Golden Plovers — End of April (Northern Type) Pochards and Tufted Drake. Grebes and Young Coot (Midsummer, 1906) A Moorland Road .... First Signs of Alarm .... Tufted Ducks ..... Golden-Eyes on a Moorland Lough Golden Plovers— Autumn Confidence ..... "Going" ...... Brent Geese ..... Godwits on the Ooze — September . Wigeon ...... Sheld-Ducks and Oystercatchers . Brent Geese on Feed .... Grey-Geese on the Sand- Bar — "Full Sea" "In the Grey Dawn" .... Scaup-Ducks ..... Godwits in September .... Oystercatchers ..... Wigeon on the Slake — Hard Frost A Scientific Shot : Geese coming over — high Frontispiece To face page 1 28 38 40 52 90 94 154 212 220 224 234 242 278 282 290 308 3i6 33° 346 35° 37o 396 414 434 448 Xll LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT Anglers' Companions — the Dipper Redshank in April Redshank in April . Diagram of Flight of Drumming Snipe Old Blackcock "in Play" . Anglers' Companions — Sandpipers . Pallas' Sandgrouse (Male) . Curlew (Alarmed) Peewits— A Siesta Young Blackcock — ist of September Young Blackcock — End of September Old Blackcock — Winter Suspicion • Challenge .... Mallards (on the Moors) . Gone to Roost .... Wood-Pigeons— Evening Mallards Asleep — Midday . Mallards Springing to Shot — Daybreak Sheld-Ducks . "The Last Resource.'' Wounded Goose Bare Shore Scaup Drake (Adult). Young Scaup-Drake — November . Merganser Drake, showing Form and Carriage of Crest Godwit (Adult) — Winter Redshanks — On the Scap Point . Group of Small Waders Cormorants .... A Pensioner .... trying to hide on BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS CHAPTER I MOORLANDS OF THE BORDER The Dawn of Spring Without going beyond the boundaries of our Island, there yet remains many a wild corner neglected and unknown. Of such the Borderland is an example. Stretching from Cheviot to the Solway, these uplands comprise, in either country, an area covering hundreds of square miles of mountain and moor, and include within their limits scenery which, sui generis, cannot be rivalled within the four s'eas. It must, however, be added that the peculiar beauty of the Cheviot range is rather characteristic than sensational — or "clamant," if I may borrow Professor Geikie's expressive term. The region covered by these observations I would define as that mountain-land which remains as created, unaltered by the hand of man- — the land "in God's own holding" — bounded by the line where the shepherd's crook supplants the plough ; where heather and bracken, whinstone and black-faced sheep repel corn, cattle, and cultivation ; where grouse and blackcock yet retain their A 2 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS ancient domain, excluding partridge and pheasant : and where the ring-ouzel dispossesses the blackbird. A region largely of peat as distinguished from soil, of flowe, moss, and crag : of tumbling burns and lonely moorland, glorious in all its primeval beauty. My whole area is, in short, one great sheep-walk, ranging up to altitudes of 2700 feet, whereon grouse and sheep outnumber man in the propor- tion of many thousands to one. On the higher fell-ranges of the Border it takes two to four acres to support each sheep — there are barrens where even this proportion is largely exceeded ; hence the minimum may be roughly set down as nearly a thousand acres for each human being. The hill-country is thus all but uninhabited, abandoned to shepherds and flock - masters, whose sequestered homes lie scattered far apart amid the re- cesses of the fells. A hardy race are these to whom ovis bidens is the prceterea nihil of life, since the more severe the weather, the greater the necessity to keep the hill. Kindly and hospitable they are forbye, as any belated traveller in the wilds can testify ; but it cannot be added that they take a lively interest in the bird-life that surrounds them. In this second edition, I have slightly extended my purview so as to include the subjacent country, namely, the foothills which slope downwards from the higher range, and which zone might perhaps be termed the sub- alpine region. This is the fringe of the moorland ; yet it lies beyond the range of the plough (since my soul abhors cultivation), and its faunal character may be exemplified by the substitution of the blackcock, peewit, and whin- chat : for the red grouse, golden plover, and wheatear of the higher land. Here, while still enjoying the company of those species which are typical of the moorland proper, MOORLANDS OF THE BORDER 3 we also come within the outer limit of many of the more charming- forms that characterise the lowland. Thus for example, at Houxty, on the wooded banks of North Tyne, some 18 miles below its source on Peel- fell (2000 feet) of the Cheviot range, there nest in my garden, or immediately adjacent, practically the whole of the delicate summer-visitants ; such as the blackcap and garden-warbler, willow- and wood-wrens, whinchat, white- throat, pied and spotted flycatchers : as well as many sandpipers and, on the neighbouring burn, dipper, grey and pied wagtails. And yet, within a few minutes' walk, one may enjoy seeing and hearing most of the moorland forms. Blackgame nest close by ; grouse, curlew, red- shank, plover, and snipe within the compass of an even- ing's stroll ; wheatear, twite and ring-ouzel, mallard and teal, all within a mile or so. Add to these, in the moss- stained stream below, the salmon, bull-trout, and his golden-flanked cousin : and you have a faunal range that few spots can surpass. This list, of course, is merely typical, and will be widely expanded in the subsequent chapters. Houxty, with its heathery horizons, its ferny knowes and shaggy cleughs, sheltered by sombre pines, is so often mentioned throughout this book as to need this intro- ductory note. Westward, stretches for untold leagues beyond the Cumbrian Border, a region of moor and moss as wild as any in England : but less abrupt and of lower elevation than the main line of Cheviots to the north- ward. This, but three centuries ago, formed the field of operation of mosstrooper and reiver : nowadays, the only professional robbers are a few ravens and the big sea-gulls that come to nest on its lonely mosses. 4 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS Before pitching my permanent camp here in 1898, I had, for more than a quarter of a century, occupied shootings or fishing's at many diverse points upon the Borders ; each point being a centre of observation for the collation of the notes upon which this book is based. An initial difficulty in describing the bird-life of any given area throughout the year is to decide at which point to begin. New Year's Day suits human purposes well enough ; but Nature provides no break in her cycle, and no single point of time can be found at which her various operations can start level. Hence, these chapters will necessarily partake something of the character of those golden serpents which one sees made into ladies' bracelets, and which complete the continuity of their circle by taking a large piece of their tails into their jaws. The opening months of the year are uninteresting and uneventful on the moors. There is but little perceptible change from the conditions which prevailed during November and December ; and an outline of the orni- thological features of those months will be found later in this book. Hence there is but little attraction to detain us till the advent of spring or of the vernal influence, at which somewhat indefinite period these notes will therefore commence. Springtide is a subject on which, from time im- memorial, poets and those of vivid imagination have delighted to descant. And, truly, there is a charm in the idea of the rejuvenescence of all Nature's productions at this season, when new life springs afresh in bird, beast, and plant, which is generative of poetic instinct. Appre- ciative and grateful as all must be for the sublimity of thought developed in our classic poetry — a beauty of expression which transcends all power of prose — still, as MOORLANDS OF THE BORDER 5 naturalists, we must remember that to us is granted neither imagination nor licence. Graceless is the soul that cannot enjoy — dismissing, the while, untimely reflections on known facts respecting the autumnal moult, and every unharmonious thought — such lines as : — " In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast ; In the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest ; In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove ; In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." By all means enjoy what is beautiful, and picture in introspect how charming all would be did Nature's facts but coincide with poetic sentiment. Try to regard Spring with that joy and thankfulness which poets and the innate character of the season naturally inspire. It was Plato, if I remember aright, who proposed that poets should be banished because they sang only the ideal. Therein, I consider, he displayed some lack of sound philosophy; since "facts" are not, even now, all proven or capable of precise definition. Hence, even in natural history, some small and ordered measure of idealism may conceivably be admissible. There exists, however, even among poets, some degree of sophistry ; for, while Browning sang of the joy "to be in England now that April's here," yet he took care to remain in Italy! In these chapters the author holds himself perforce restrained from indulgence in any sentimental effusive- ness beyond what may be dictated by the logic of facts. For in the Borderland, and especially on its moory uplands, the term Spring represents rather a chrono- logical definition than the embodiment of an idea calculated to inspire, from the character of the period 6 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS so defined, any high-flown sentiment of poesy. The months of March, April, and often May include some of the crudest and most inclement periods of the year, as regards weather, on the northern hills. Up to the end of May snowfalls may yet occur, and the highlands, at times, lie as white then as in December. If one of these months chances to be bright and fine, the others do extra penance to the Nimbi, and one has to be thankful for single mercies. Jupiter Pluvius holds sway ; and, as day after day, and week after week, one's prospect is shut out by the cold north-easterly sleet driving along the hillsides, with pitiless pelting hail- storms shrouding their summits from view, and send- ing down the burns in bank-high flood, there is little, it will be admitted, to call forth exuberant outbursts of enthusiasm at the new-born glories of the ".glad season," or the revivifying effects produced by the increasing powers of warmth and light. Unkindly, however, as may be the elements, but little, if any, difference is produced by them on the seasonal progress of Nature's economy' — at least as regards bird- life. Thus the raven and the heron go to nest by the middle of February, utterly careless of the temperature — indifferent if the thermometer stands 20° below the freezing-point, and if a foot of snow envelops the hills. They know their appointed time to the day, and care for none of these things. And so it is with bird-life generally. The sequence of events, each at its own season, proceeds with definite regularity and without regard for extraneous conditions. But it is only the higher forms of life that recognise the advent of Spring. For the herbage on the northern hills hardly commences to grow before June; the curved head of the bracken only emerges from the MOORLANDS OF THE BORDER 7 peat during that month, and the heather shows no sign of change from the black and lifeless hue it had assumed in October, till we reach the period which, by the almanac, should be called summer. For these, in short — that is to say, for the whole plant-world — Spring is simply non- existent ; or, if the expression be preferred, their awaken- ing is postponed till summer. With the higher forms of life, as stated, it is different. The moor-birds arrive, pair, nest, and hatch their young without reference to climatic conditions ; and many a moorland chick first sees the light in an atmosphere and amid circumstances which would seem necessarily fatal to its tender life. Small wonder that the vast majority of the strong- winged birds — such as the ducks, geese, waders, and other wildfowl — should prefer the Arctic regions for their breeding-grounds. There may be those to whom the words still cause a shudder, and who only associate these regions with thick-ribbed ice, with intense cold, and manifold forms of death. There are, no doubt, plenty of these things in the Arctic ; but it is not all ice up there, nor is it always cold, for I have noticed a temperature of 79°, with clouds of dancing midges, in the 80th degree. True, the Polar summer is short, but it can boast three months of continuous sunlight, and there are, moreover, within the Arctic, unmeasured regions of moor, moss, and marsh abounding in plant- and insect-life. Such conditions compare favourably with the spring climate of our temperate zone. But I must not do injustice to the season, and would be drawing too gloomy a picture of the North British spring-time if I omitted to mention the few spells of bright and warm days which, at uncertain intervals, do occur to break the monotony of even the most incle- 8 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS ment springs. Oases in a desert they may be in many cases ; but not for that reason is their advent the less welcome and delightful- — quite the reverse. I am not alluding to those deceptive spring-like days when brilliant sunshine co-exists with a biting north-easter ; when April showers descend in fine snow or cutting hailstones ; when one is baked in the shelter and frozen in the shade. Such days are as false and illusory as they are common at this season, and though, perhaps, preferable to fog and rain, they bear no comparison to the grateful hours when winds blow soft and warm from the west and south, with the first touch of the zephyr in their breath. On such mornings as these, when sunshine bathes the water-logged moor in unwonted warmth, drying the dripping heather and moss, every creature appears in- spired by the spirit of the season. The moor-birds pipe and whistle in a wholly different key to their querulous notes of yesterday, and visibly revel in the genial change. Under the cold and humid conditions of atmosphere which have hitherto prevailed, one can hardly enjoy any very close acquaintanceship with them : one only hears their wild alarm notes, as they spring, unseen in the fog, far away. Now, under the influence of warmth and a dry atmosphere, they cease to resent man's intrusion on their domains, and go about their domestic duties almost regardless of his presence, though close at hand. The wilder spirits — those irreconcilables that are impregnated, as it were, to the very marrow with inherent fear and suspicion of our race — such as the mallard and the curlew ■ — may still think it necessary to keep a gunshot or two away from the intruder ; but even these seem to do so half unconsciously— merely from force of habit and asso- MOORLANDS OF THE BORDER 9 ciation, and not at all in an obtrusive manner. The game-birds, the plovers, and the teal now abandon nearly- all their hybernal shyness, tacitly recognising" a tem- porary suspension of hostilities. The trout, also, in the hill-burns, which have hitherto disregarded all the attractions of insect-food — real or counterfeit — grubbing about on the bottom for their livelihood, now roll and play on the surface, in the glancing waters, and in the heads of the streams. Every creature, in short, man included, feels the exhilarating influence of the day, and enjoys it all the more from the knowledge that the change may be very transient. Nothing, indeed, is more delightful than the rare spells of fine warm weather, which do occur in early spring, when winter appears at last to have passed away, and the atmosphere becomes resonant with a chorus of wild bird-notes, and redolent with the fragrance of the heather-burning. Where development depends on so extremely variable a factor as our spring climate, its course is necessarily very irregular. Up to the end of March there is no visible change from the bleak and wintry aspect of the moors. Many of the spring-birds are there, it is true, but at first they are restless and shy. The spring element of trustfulness and confidence has not yet appeared, and the grouse are still seen spinning away, as wild as in November. Indeed it is not till May that the true spirit of the vernal season is fully developed. In mid- April the only signs of vegetation are the catkins on the willows and saughs. By the end of that month the hardy birch and alder may show some symptoms of returning foliage ; but the heather remains as black and as cold as ever, and the grass, rushes, and fern are but the dead and withered remnants of last year's growth, 10 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS colourless and blanched by the weather, and flattened down by the weight of the winter's snows. Thus, while birds recognise the advent of Spring" long" before its presence is otherwise perceptible, and hold their fixtures regardless of weather ; yet plant-life ex- hibits no acknowledgment of the passing of winter till an actual access of warmth awakens it. "Winter lingers in the lap of May," and it is never until May that Watson's distich applies in joyful truth : — " Now while the vernal impulsion makes lyrical all that hath language, While through the veins of the earth riots the ichor of Spring." CHAPTER II THE VERNAL MIGRATION With Observations on the Scope and Causes of Migration Among the earlier signs of returning- spring is the com- mencement of migration : a phenomenon so complex and yet so interesting that I propose making a few remarks on its scope and on the causes which produce it, even at the risk of alarming some readers who may perhaps think my book a mere maze of technicalities. This great bi-annual bird-movement commences as early as February, but the initial stages of the vernal immigration to the moorlands are all but imperceptible. During the cold and wintry months of February and March, very large numbers of birds, many from distant lands, keep quietly arriving day by day, and distribute themselves over the moors. In the aggregate their numbers are immense ; but, when distributed over so wide an area, their advent is inconspicuous, and may easily be overlooked, especially as on first arrival the new-comers are shy, since they have not then thrown off their wild character, or assumed the careless disposition of spring. Moreover, these new-comers are not new species suddenly appearing. They are, in most cases, merely reinforcing others of their own kind which have 12 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS spent the winter here. It requires, indeed, close observa- tion to detect the progress of the metamorphosis which is then occurring. Observe those half-dozen golden plovers scattered over a moss-flowe high out on the fells ; it is the middle of February. Well, surely there is nothing remarkable in that : are there not a couple of hundred of them in the low-lying pastures only a mile away? Quite true ; but those hundreds in the valley are merely the normal winter stock ; this handful on the hills is the vanguard of the invading army from southern lands which means to spend the summer here. The following list gives in rough outline the various birds which come to breed on the Northumbrian moor- land, together with the approximate average dates of their arrival :■ — Peewit ..... February or even earlier (irregular). Golden Plover .... February (irregular). Skylark February. Curlew ..... February. Pied Wagtail .... February (end). Titlark March. Black-headed Gull . . . March. Stockdove March (middle). Grey Wagtail .... March (middle). Redshank March (middle). Wheatear March (end). Ring-Ouzel .... March (end). Sand-Martin and Chiffcbafr . April (early). Dunlin April (early). Sandpiper April 12th to 15th. Willow-Wren .... April 15th to 20th. Redstart April 1 5th to 20th. Swallow April 20th. House-Martin .... April 25th. Whinchat and Pied Flycatcher April 25th. Cuckoo April 30th. Landrail May 1st. Nightjar May (middle). THE VERNAL MIGRATION 13 Several of the above birds, it will be noticed, belong- to species which are found in this country at all seasons of the year. As such, they might therefore be objected to in a list of migrants : but their place as above is correct. Migration is infinitely more general and universal than is popularly supposed. It is, of course, a matter of common knowledge that birds such as the swallow, the cuckoo, and the willow-wren are distinctly foreign migrants. Their summer and winter haunts are far apart, separated by belts of sea and land ; consequently their reappearance here every April after a total absence of seven or eight months is markedly conspicuous, and appeals at once to eye or ear in an unmistakable manner. The annual migrations of these, in short, are so patent as to be obvious even to the least observant.1 But there are other wanderers whose movements are not so conspicuous ; but which are, nevertheless, quite as strictly migratory in their habits. Thus, there is the case of birds whose summer and winter limits may be said to overlap. Such birds are, of course, found permanently within the boundaries of the overlapping zone — as shown in the rough diagram annexed. The upper oblong repre- sents the habitat of any given species during summer ; the lower oblong is its habitat during winter. Assuming that the annual range of each individual bird is approximately equal, those breeding in summer at A would winter at B — the two most northern points of their respective areas. The intermediate birds summering at B would pass on in 1 I leave this as it stood in the last edition : yet, after forty years' experience, I fear that scarce one man in fifty knows or recognises the trill of the willow-wren when first heard in every nook and corner of the land from mid-April onwards. Nor yet do the great majority see any difference between the sand-martin, which often comes in March, and the swallow that is not due for three weeks later. 14 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS winter to C, while those at the latter point would move southwards to D — the two latter being- the most southerly points in the two areas. In the overlapping- zone (the doubly-crossed portion) there will obviously be found birds of the species in question permanently at all seasons. But ■O MILCS 1000 Zooo 3000 B y////////////yy//// '///////, SIBERIA ///// iM m VVxrwcL ^A'^xx>c \Sos x \\\\\N V\\\> \\\ AFRICA X \\> /\ \V\\ ^\\\XX^X 7? they are clearly not the same individual birds. Those individuals which occupied this area in summer will be wintering — say iooo miles south- — at E ; while the places they have vacated are reoccupied by others which have passed the summer iooo miles north at F. Now, birds of such distribution as above are clearly quite as much migrants as are the swallow or the cuckoo. If one happened to live in Siberia or in Africa, there would be no difficulty in recognising- the fact ; but to those who live, as we do, within that central area where their summer and winter rang-es overlap, the movements of such birds are not patent, and are easily overlooked. It is a prevalent mistake to regard birds of this class as resident [i.e., non-migratory), and this is a point I wish to elucidate. Take the curlew as an example. Probably nine people out of ten — shore-shooters and others accustomed to seeing them daily — will tell you that the curlews are on the moors all the spring, and on the coast all the winter. This, in a sense, is perfectly correct ; but THE VERNAL MIGRATION 15 any inference therefrom, that curlews do not migrate, would be entirely wrong-. Let the -observations be carried but a very little further, and it will be found that long after the curlews have taken up their summer quarters on the moors, there still remains on the coast, for two months more, the full winter stock of curlews in undiminished numbers. That is to say, that during the months of March and April, there is, in fact, a double stock of curlews in this country. There are, on the moors, the curlews newly arrived from the Mediterranean ; while on the coast, all our winter curlews still linger till the end of April — waiting till their instinct tells them that the lands of Northern Europe are clear of snow and ready for their reception. The case of the golden plover is analogous. Our winter plovers can still be seen frequenting their ordinary haunts in large flights, for weeks after the breeding pairs have settled down in their summer residences. Indeed, as the golden plovers breed rather earlier than the curlews, it is quite a common occurrence to find the home-breeding birds (which have wintered in Southern Europe) sitting hard, or even hatching, at the end of April, and at the same time and place, to observe packs of northward-bound plovers still lingering here, but which, a few weeks later will be nesting, perhaps in Siberia. These latter may be distinguished (apart from the fact of their being still in flocks) by their more perfect development of the black breast of summer — a feature I intend to refer to later. Similarly, though the extent of their respective ranges differ, the skylark, titlark, black-headed gull, redshank, and other species included in the above list can be found permanently throughout the year at one point or another 1G BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS of this country. Yet all are distinctly migratory, and it may be doubted whether any single individual found in winter on our fells, fields, or shores, ever remains to breed here during- the following- spring. The subject of migration, with its corollary — the seasonal geographical distribution of species- — has, of recent years, received close attention from scientific ornithologists ; and a flood of information has been thrown upon the question by their researches, and especially by the systematic observations maintained at the various light-stations both around our own coasts and abroad. Recent investigations have shown that migration is vastly more extensive than was formerly supposed. The further it is studied the more general appears to be its scope and the more universal the instinct in birds to migrate. Very few species, remain absolutely stationary throughout the year. The Migration Reports1 of the British Association show that many of our common birds — such as thrushes, blackbirds, starlings, larks, and rooks — cross the seas in astonishing numbers. The greater proportion of these winged hosts is, of course, directed upon Continental Europe, but a due share reaches our islands, including members of every genus and indeed of almost every species. Few species are entirely stationary ; though some have restricted ranges, and others (though perhaps of closely allied genera) are cosmopolitan in their travels ; while, of some eminently migratory species (such as, for 1 These Migration Reports, nevertheless, appear to me quite as remarkable for what they omit as for what they include. This remark is made in no spirit of criticism, since the work done has been sound and thorough. But, to my mind, these Reports show conclusively, by the omissions themselves, how little of migration is visible and how vast a proportion is carried on absolutely beyond the ken of human eye. THE VERNAL MIGRATION 17 example, the mallard), there also co-exist locally-resident races which, to that extent, vary the general rule. I will, later in this book, endeavour categorically to distinguish each of these two classes — that is to say (i) those which are absolutely stationary, and (2) those species which have both a resident and a migratory race.1 As already pointed out, we have in this latitude a numerous class whose annual movements it is less easy to follow with precision, owing to the overlapping in our country of the belts of land which form respectively their summer and their winter quarters. Thoroughly to understand the movements of such birds, it is necessary to ascertain their geographical distribution at the different seasons. In other words, we must go outside our own country — often far outside of it — in order to ascertain the limits of their summer and winter ranges. Thus, if, for example, we find that a given species occupies during summer the whole area from Siberia to Northumberland, while its winter range extends from Shetland to Morocco, it follows that the average annual range amounts to some 2000 miles. Assuming — and it appears to be a reasonable inference — that the range of each individual is approximately equal to that of the general body, it is easily demonstrable on these lines that most of those species which are popularly regarded as resident British birds are in reality foreign migrants to the extent of 1000 or perhaps 2000 miles twice every year. Many people refuse to believe that their common homely thrushes and starlings are quite as much migrants as are the swallow and the cuckoo ; but the logic of ascertained facts shows that such is the case. Thoroughly to realise the universality of migration, I 1 See Chapter XII., p. 147. B 18 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS would suggest beginning with the belief that every individual bird one may see in garden or wood, on fell or shore, has travelled to Africa and back — or alterna- tively, to the Arctic and back- — since you saw it a year ago. This applies to the thrush that is nesting in your apple-tree, and the starling that wakes you at four o'clock on spring mornings with its squalling brood under your eaves. Then, throw the burden of disproof upon that dozen or so of absolutely stationary species, a list of which I have just promised to insert later in this book. Now, why do birds migrate ? The question, at first sight, appears a simple one, and several answers at once suggest themselves. In reality, however, it is a many- sided biological problem, and one of no small complexity and mystery. Suitable climatic conditions and temperature, food- requirements and distribution in proportion to food- supply, are among the more obvious answers to the question. These, and similar circumstances, influence, and to some extent regulate, migration ; but, on exam- ining more deeply into the subject, it becomes clear that though they may form regulating factors in migration, yet they are not its primary cause. Thus, with regard to food-requirements, it is obvious that when birds of a given species are found permanently inhabiting a certain area at all seasons, the natural or climatic conditions of that area do not render migration imperative. Therefore, when it is seen that large bodies of such birds do migrate and traverse perhaps great distances, it is clear that any hypotheses based on considerations of temperature, climatic conditions, or the like, must be abandoned. Such movements, it is possible, may be dictated by the quantity (as opposed THE VERNAL MIGRATION 19 to the quality) of the food-supply ; for, though a district may be adapted to, and inhabited by, a certain number of such birds, yet, if an enormous additional influx of foreigners be suddenly thrown upon it, its resources may then become unequal to the increased demand, and a proportionate exodus, or redistribution, must follow. Such, and cognate cases, however, are merely incidental factors, and not the first cause of migration. There are, moreover, many cases in which no such factors appear to operate. Many theories in explanation of the migratory instinct have been advanced. Some are, at any rate, ingenious ; but, unless they rest on some solid basis, partake more of a poetic than of a scientific character. The erection of imaginative hypotheses, in support of which it is easy to collect a mass of what looks like circumstantial evidence, but which are incapable of direct proof, is of dubious utility. Causes, no doubt, can be assigned to every effect, a reason to every fact ; but it is perhaps wiser, with our finite knowledge, to admit that there yet remain things which cannot be explained. At the risk of appearing to neglect in practice what I have just preached, I will venture briefly to refer to one theory — which appears to stand on somewhat more tangible foundations. This is the theory of the Polar origin of life, which was first suggested in relation to the origin of plant-life at the North Pole by Professor Heer and Count Saporta. That the deductions of these philosophic minds applied with equal force to the genesis of bird-life was, in the first instance (I believe), suggested by Colonel H. W. Feilden, C. B., in 1879. The subject has more recently been treated by my old friend, the late Canon Tristram, in relation to its bearings both on 20 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS the present distribution and on the migrations of birds {Ibis, 1887, p. 236, and 1888, p. 204). With respect to the first-named point, all the salient facts relating to present distribution of genera gleaned from the four quarters of the globe are adduced by the learned Canon of Durham, and the various steps of evidence by which the North Polar region is shown to have been the original centre of dispersal of all life are of infinite interest to naturalists.1 Beyond its general bearing on the correctness of the whole theory, it is unnecessary here further to dwell on that section of the subject — distribution. But I will endeavour, in as few words as possible, to indicate the influence of the Polar theory upon migration. It must, in the first place, be granted that our globe was "in the beginning" a molten, lifeless mass; that during unknown aeons it was gradually cooling, prepara- tory to the reception of life. So much I assume. But the cooling process would clearly not proceed with equal speed. Those portions of the earth which are furthest removed from the power of the sun, and which most rapidly radiate their heat into space, would necessarily be the first to cool, and therefore the first to become capable of maintaining life. These colder portions (provided that the axis of the globe has not materially altered in relation to the sun) would be the Polar regions — Arctic and Antarctic. That the North Polar region has so passed through all the stages that intervene between intense heat and their existing intense cold, is evidenced by their geological 1 I find, at the last moment, that I have inadvertently overlooked the fact that this "Dispersal" had already, some years previously, been briefly foreshadowed by my friend Mr Howard Saunders, in his cosmic review of the " Distribution of the Gulls and Terns " — Proceedings of the Linncean Society ; 1878, pp. 405-406. THE VERNAL MIGRATION 21 record. In the interval — the wide interval between molten heat and "eternal ice " — the Arctic lands have passed, stage by stage, through every gradation of climate, and have been, at one period or another, adapted for every form of life — and that condition, it follows, these regions would attain in advance of all other portions of the earth's surface. Spitsbergen and Franz-Josef Land once luxuriated in the profuse plant-life of the carboniferous epoch. Incidentally I may mention having observed in the first-named ice-bound land, palpable evidence of that period of "grass and herb yielding seed" — though at the present day neither tree nor shrub exist there — and a small series of fossils brought home from Spitsbergen proved to be identical with those of our own coal- measures of Durham and Northumberland. The whole theory obviously depends, in the first instance, on the presumption that the earth's axis has remained comparatively stationary. But has this been so ? This, again, is a problem, the answer to which depends on a consideration of an intricate congeries of facts and forces, all of which must be studied and their effects calculated. Nor can they be examined sepa- rately ; they must be regarded as a great moving whole, a vast aggregation of forces acting and reacting on each other with ever-varying results. The whole system on which the earth moves through space, the effects upon it of attraction, counter-attraction, and even such complexities as the precession of the equinoxes, all have their bearing on the question. It is, however, sufficient here merely to name such awe-inspiring topics, and to add that a consideration of them appears to justify a conclusion that the earth's axis has not materially altered in relation to the sun. 22 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS There is abundant evidence of tropical periods at the Pole ; but no trace of glacial conditions in the tropics, nor indeed further south than the Continent of Europe. The Arctic regions have extended as far southwards as the Pyrenees (where reindeer at one period existed), but not much, if at all, beyond. A Polar variation to that extent is explained by the phenomenon known as the "nutation of the earth" — that is, the oscillation of its axis accordingly as the attraction of the sun and the counter-attractions of various other planets alter- nately predominate. Beyond these limits (and the alter- nations each occupy very many thousands of years), the position of the axis appears to have been stationary — that is, it has not altered to a degree which would be destructive to the theory of the Polar origin of life. Granting, then, the substantial accuracy of what I have feebly attempted to describe, it follows that the North Polar regions would be the first spot on the globe adapted to sustain life ; that they were, at first, the cradle of all life ; and afterwards, as the Polar cold gradually intensified, the centre of dispersal whence the various forms were distributed throughout the world, as its various portions in turn became adapted to their requirements. Viewed in this light, the great migratory tendency towards the north becomes explicable and compre- hensive enough. It simply arises from a perennial instinct, which continues to draw vast numbers of the feathered tribes towards the point which was originally the universal home of all. It is an invariable rule that all birds do breed at the most northerly points of their annual range. In the northern hemisphere, the ten- dency to move northwards in spring is all but universal ; and, as already pointed out, there are, in many cases, THE VERNAL MIGRATION 23 no visible or existing" reasons, climatic, economic, or otherwise, which render such movement imperative.1 Whatever may be the primary cause of migration, whether it arises from the old-time instinct I have alluded to or otherwise, it is at least certain that it is a deeply implanted and widely spread impulse through- out the feathered tribes. On referring to the foregoing list, it will be seen that as early as February the influx of visitants from southern climes commences, and that during that month and March the majority of the typical moor-breeding birds have distributed themselves over the border-hills. The plovers and curlew come first, followed by larks, wagtails, gulls, and redshanks ; all these having northerly winter ranges— and hence comparatively short distances to come — are just what one might expect first. The ring-ouzel, too, from Southern Europe, follows close behind them. Of the trans-Mediterranean group, the wheatear is the first to arrive, some weeks in advance of the main bodies of warblers, swallows, cuckoo, landrail, and, last of all, the nightjar. But, as though to show how unsafe are any general rules, the common sandpiper, which winters in Spain, is among the later arrivals ; while the dunlin, which swarms on our own coast throughout even the most severe winters, usually allows the month of April to begin before putting in a tardy appearance on the moors. 1 The grebes may perhaps be cited as to some extent, deviating from this rule. All five British species are certainly most common, in the Border-land, during winter ; and (with the exception of the Slavonian grebe, which nests in Iceland), the majority seem to breed rather to the southward than to the northward of their winter positions. CHAPTER III EARLY SPRING ON THE MOORS February The outstanding" features of bird-life on the moors in early spring- are but few ; and those few, at first, may be disregarded, having no general bearing on ornithic economy as a whole. True, some movements may be conspicuous. For example, there are wide differences in the local distribution of golden plover, peewits, and snipe : but these are members of a cosmopolitan genus, and their erratic movements at this period are simply dictated by the exigencies of food-supply. One spring a moss, or moor, or "haugh" may be full of them; another year, in general appearance similar, there are none — nor can their stay, while here, be depended upon for an hour. Up to a certain period, it is labour lost to attempt to explain these sudden comings and goings. They depend upon causes operating over a wide area, and many of which are probably impalpable to us. Suffice it to say that these birds — all birds — know, in each changing condition of weather, know instinctively which area, which geological formation, will best serve their immediate requirements : and that area they seek. There comes, however, a point of time in each year 24 EARLY SPRING ON THE MOORS 25 when observations touch bed-rock : and that point is not dependent on the vagaries of local weather. It marks the commencement of that great vernal northing, which is all but universal in the bird-world. That movement (the general movement, I mean) is perfectly recognisable, in the case of the three species named, by the month of March- — frequently, in open seasons, as early as the middle of February. But it needs close observation and practised judgment to discriminate accu- rately between (i) those irregular, unimportant local movements first mentioned, and (2) the commencement of the general systematic northward migration. The difficulty, moreover, appears at first sight to be accentuated, owing to the two movements (the local and the general) continuing to proceed simultaneously, and side by side. Fortunately for the ornithologist who is striving to solve these problems, there exist certain species, of which the different climatic races may be distinguished by differences in plumage ; or, to be accurate, by the degree of development in that plumage. To take, as a specific example of my argument, the golden plover aforesaid. This bird (as everyone about the moorlands should know) acquires in spring a different plumage for the breeding-season. The throat, breast, and under parts — which were white during all the autumn and winter — now become black. But the degree and intensity of that black develop in precise ratio with the degree of latitude — north or south — where the individual plover was hatched, and whither it is now, in March, returning to reproduce its race. The Borders form almost the southernmost point in the nesting-area of the golden plover. Hence our local 2G BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS plovers show the least development of the black plumage. They are hardly black at all, merely marbled, with many white feathers interspersed. Further north, in Shetland, the plovers are much blacker ; but skins brought home by my late brother Alfred from 70° north latitude, in Finmark, were absolutely and intensely black. This more complete development of the perfect typical plumage of the summer is not confined to the golden plover : but appears (where applicable) a toler- ably constant feature in ornithology. The brambling {Fringilla montifringilld) affords a good illustration. Those obtained by my brother in Lapland (70 north latitude) were markedly more perfect in the glossy blue-black of their heads and shoulders than specimens obtained in Norway, on the Dovre-fjeld (latitude 6*3° north) and on the Sogne-fjord (6i° north), at corre- sponding seasons. Again, what other birds of the known world attain so complete and perfect a summer- transformation as that hyperborean quartette- — the bar- tailed godwit, knot, curlew-sandpiper, and grey plover — the last four species whose breeding-places remained undiscovered ? The inference as to Polar origin in such cases is irresistible. To return to the golden plover : — The first indication of true migration (as distinguished from mere local shiftings) occurs, in mild seasons, as early as the middle of February. These new-comers are not, however, the home-nesting plovers returning to their vernal quarters ; but are a contingent of the northern races, now taking a first preliminary stage of their longer journey. They have come, probably, from no farther than the lowlands and coasts of southern England, or from Ireland. This section is recognisable in two EARLY SPRING OX THE MOORS 27 ways : First, by their passing- through lowlands and arable country, far from moorland, and uncongenial to their kind, as at Silksworth, county Durham, where the author lived many years, and where golden plovers might be seen passing in February, but at no other season. About the same date you might spring three or four snipe from some ploughed field or stubble, spots which, at other times, never held a snipe. These passing plovers have already commenced the change to spring plumage. A single black feather, perhaps two, may be seen just showing through the white ; but even if not so visible, some will be found concealed beneath the older white plumage on raising the latter with a knitting-needle. These are new feathers, growing, showing that this partial moult is a true one : and not a change in the colour of existing feathers. The second means of recognising this section is that, on arrival within the moorland area, they spread them- selves over the lower grounds - — the river- valleys and haughs — reinforcing those plovers which have been there all winter : but which latter are still pure white below. Here both sections remain, in packs and large flights, up to the date of their final departure for Northern Europe, at the end of April or early in May. Those golden plovers which come here to breed, arrive later than the above section. Withdrawing from their winter resorts in Southern Europe towards the end of February, they have, within a few days of that date, distributed themselves in pairs all over the moors, going direct to the spots where they intend to nest. But these, as just stated, are in pairs (not packs), and, moreover, they are on the high ground. By the middle of March, these breeding pairs are all localised on the higher moors : 28 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS though they will not have egg's till a month or five weeks later. They are already as black on the breast as our local plovers ever became : for these never attain the full black under-parts usually depicted, and which are only acquired by those that breed further north. Our North- umbrian plovers at best are only marbled. Their loud and wild spring note — a plaintive whistle, " Tirr-pee-you "• — may now be heard on the high moors: but not among the packed plovers on the lower grounds and haughs. This note is only uttered when the birds are on wing, circling high in air. My readers will, I trust, forgive the length to which this note on a single species has extended. I have given it in detail, partly because it is interesting in itself; but chiefly because it is applicable to many congeneric and other birds at this season, and will not now need to be repeated in each case. In February the Curlews return, and welcome is the first sound of their wild long-drawn rippling note and the first sight of the shapely clean-cut form sailing across the dark heather. Their arrival has occurred as early as February 5th, and as late as March nth, the average being after mid-February. In stormy seasons, when the fells are buried in snow, the curlews delay their return till the snow has melted: as in 1886, when none appeared on the moors till March 19th. These curlews are also travellers from afar. They have come — not from adjacent seashores — but from Spanish marismas, from African lagoons, and from the Mediterranean. The curlews of our own coast do not breed here. They remain on the sandflats and oozes, where they have spent the winter, all through the months of February, March, and April, and retire to their more northern breeding-grounds EARLY SPRING ON THE MOORS 29 in May. By that date, those curlews that do breed here have already laid their eggs on the higher moors. On February 28th, the Peewits at Houxty first began to utter their spring note — a seasonal sound I had enjoyed hearing exactly one month earlier (on January 28th) in Southern Spain. Towards the end of February occurs an influx of Skylarks. This common familiar friend is essentially a wanderer. The known facts of his geographical distribu- tion at the various seasons prove this. In mild seasons some remain all winter : in others, none. That of 1885-6 was a noteworthy instance, illustrative of how bird- instinct is sometimes at fault in its forecasts. During the mild months of December and January, skylarks had been numerous ; and their numbers increased in February. On the 7th of that month, some had even commenced to sing: but on March 1st, a memorable storm buried the Borders under snow-drifts many feet in depth, isolating villages and swallowing up whole trains on the railways. The spring-dreams of the songsters were dissipated. No more were seen till the snow had melted, three weeks later. February 22nd is the date on which, in three con- secutive years, the Pied Wagtail has made its appearance : and in a fourth year, it was only one day later. The Grey Wagtail {Motacilla melanope) is scarcely due before mid-March. The wagtails are hardy birds : considering that they are strictly insect-feeders, their advent in the north is singularly early — nearly two months before the bulk of the summer-birds. But more than this : Although I have just given their dates of arrival, yet it is not uncommon, in mild seasons, to see stray individuals of both species (but especially the grey) in 30 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS mid-winter — daintily wading" in the shallows and burn- sides, turning over each dead leaf in search of any food it may conceal. Their main numbers, however, are made up at the respective dates above mentioned. Such are the few features of bird-life in February. I cannot find in my notes the record of any other species appearing on the moors before the end of that wintry month. At lower levels, however, another vernal sign foretells the changing" season. That is, the resumption of song by several species, including" skylark, yellow- hammer, chaffinch, and hedge-sparrow. This may be expected whenever temperature rises above 550 or thereby. March Early in March, Mallards and Teal return to the moorland loughs. This is probably only a local move- ment : but, even in open winters, it sometimes happens that no ducks remain on the higher moors, except per- haps a few Golden-eyes. The Titlark is another of the common moorland birds that arrive at this period. In such hordes do they come, and so deliberately do they saunter along, that it is hardly possible to overlook their passage. This, in the low- lands, occurs by mid-March ; but it is a fortnight later before they move into the hill-country. Every year during the concluding days of the month, the hosts of these little birds that suddenly appear, passing up the valleys of North Tyne and Reed water, are a feature of the season. These " watergates M form a natural access to vast areas of moorland. The middle of March marks the date when the grey wagtail returns to grace every burnside, and to charm EARLY SPRING ON THE MOORS 31 the appreciative eye — should one be there. I know I have already incidentally mentioned this fact, but this bird is not only typical of the moorland, but one of my firm familar friends — a companion in the solitudes dur- ing five of the happiest months- — -and he shall not lack a second record here, in its proper place. The grey wagtail frequents alike the loneliest moun- tain-burns and the broader streams below : but never, in spring", ranges beyond the wilder region. In the rich pas- tures and water-meadows of the lowland, it is replaced by the yellow wagtail — the latter unknown on the moorlands. Simultaneously comes another species — not compan- ionable, and with a curious record. This is the Stock- dove, which, during my own lifetime, has voluntarily added itself to the avifauna of the north. The first we ever saw, was shot by my brother Alfred on September 25th, 1878; and since then it has become quite a regular resident in the lowlands, feeding and "flighting" with the wood-pigeons in winter, and nesting in hollow trees and rabbit holes.1 On the moors, its ways are quite different. None see it come or go : but, in March, it will be found to have taken possession, here and there, of some remote and hoary crag, some rifted rocks splintered by old-time convulsion, and often far away on the moors, surrounded by miles of heather. These strongholds the stockdoves share with jackdaws, ring- ouzels, and often a pair of kestrels. They "keep them- selves to themselves," as the saying is : but attend strictly to business, for they breed twice in rock-cranny, and are gone before August 12th. The latest I ever saw on the moors was on August 18th. They are quite unknown there in autumn or winter. 1 We found one nest on Derwentwater, in an old squirrel's drey. » 32 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS In Roxburghshire, the same remarks apply. Stock- doves first nested there in 1882, and are now quite common. There is a regular colony of them in the Staerough crags, above Yetholm. In Berwickshire it first appeared on Tweedside in 1877, according to Mr Muir- head {Birds of Berwickshire, vol. ii., p. 141), and I have heard its curious coo-ing note (more confluent, and scarce so soft as that of the cushat) in the woods of Duns Castle in that county. The advent of two other characteristic species marks the progress of the year. The Redshank and Black-headed Gull both appear in March — both to form, for four months, conspicuous ornaments to the moorland scene. The wild triple cry of the former (often first heard at night) signalises his arrival ; he follows the main " watergates," and never leaves the lower levels: whereas the gulls pass on to seek high- lying moorland loughs for their summer-homes. These gulls (Larus ridibundus), or at least the majority of them, have not come far. Some, possibly, have crossed the Bay of Biscay since the previous summer ; but most, if my diagnosis be correct, have passed the winter on our own shores, thus differing essentially from the curlews and plovers, whose case has been already defined. In winter, immense concentrations of these gulls frequent the "slakes" and sandflats of the north-east coast. One stormy winter's night, when shooting on the sea, my puntsman and I both mistook, amid driving snow and deepening gloom, one of these assemblages for wigeon. While preparing to fire, our punt took the ground forward and swung round on the tide, obliging me to take the shot with a shoulder-gun. Nineteen lay dead — not wigeon, but black-headed gulls. EARLY SPRING ON THE MOORS 33 It was a sad accident — one of those that cannot always be avoided. But had the stanchion-gun held her bearing- three more seconds, the destruction had been thrice as bad. The date of this catastrophe was February 28th. The nineteen gulls were all adults, and all well advanced in acquiring- the black hood. In another fortnight they would have been soaring over heather and moss instead of tidal sandflat and ooze. I have often noticed these g-ulls at Houxty as early as the end of February. In arable lands, they follow the plough, along with rooks. The last week of March bring-s quite a little flush of new arrivals from over-sea. Two of these are typical moor-birds, to wit, — the wheatear and the ringf-ouzel. Other two represent the earlier contingent of the regular "summer-birds," namely, the sand-martin and the chiffchaff, both of which I have noticed (the latter in full song-) as early as March 31st. The following- gives, in tabular form, the earliest and latest dates of arrival of the species already named : — Earliest Date. Latest Date Curlew . arrives February 5 March 19 Pied Wagtail . • » February 19 February 27 Grey Wagtail . ss February 27 March * 17 Stockdove 55 March 7 April 1 Redshank 5) March 11 March 27 Wheatear )) March 23 March 3 1 Ring-Ouzel 55 March 24 April 2 Sand-Martin . 5J March 3i April 16 Chiffchaff 55 March 3i April 1 1 The Ring-ed Plover {^gialitis hiaticula) is strictly marine in its haunts, and there is no local evidence of its breeding- inland : yet we have observed it frequenting- c 34 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS the wide haughs of the upper Coquet (25 miles from the sea) at the end of March, associated with redshanks, peewits, and an occasional dunlin. March 23. — The Reed- Bunting's {Emberiza schceni- clus) have now acquired their full black heads — not by a moult, but by the abrasion of the buff-coloured tips of the original feathers. But they still only utter the single pipe, or chirrup, of winter — no song- until April. On the lower marshy grounds by the coast, these birds remain all winter : but here are partially migrants, appearing at Houxty about the above date. March 25.- — A pair of Goosanders on North Tyne, under my windows at Houxty ; watched them through binoculars at 100 yards, diving, and bringing up trout at about four to the minute — all under the 9-inch limit! I have observed these handsome birds here on other occasions at this season ; and also, more frequently, on the Tweed and adjacent lochs. St Mary's Loch in Selkirkshire is a notable resort of goosanders in spring. They often keep in trios — a drake with two ducks. But though we have watched them chasing and coquetting early in April, and they remain till quite late in May, yet none have ever nested there. The Lesser Black-backed Gull {Larus fuscus) is another conspicuous species which comes in March to breed on the inland moors : but is not included in my list of migrants, for the simple reason that these modern mosstroopers occur here, sporadically, during every month of the year. I shall have something more to say about them presently. March 31. — Killed to-day the first adder: another on April 6th. These reptiles abound on the moors throughout the summer, living on mice and small birds. EARLY SPRING ON THE MOORS 35 In July, we killed one which contained a young" mole, half-grown, with very small "diggers." One often sees adders while grouse-shooting, and on September 25th (1881), I killed one of a peculiar warm reddish hue — quite different to the ordinary colour. It was gliding down a steep slope, on the top of the heather, and contained three whole field-mice. This adder was also the latest I recollect seeing : they go into winter-quarters about the end of September. While on the subject of reptiles, I may add that I have only on three occasions come across the common lizard (Lacerta vivipard) in the Border highlands. The first was near Loch Doon, Ayrshire, in June 1894; the second on Westburnhope moor in Allendale, August 1896. A third, about 5 inches long, we caught above Falstone in North Tyne, August 1903. There may, perhaps, be some lack of observation here. The blindworm (Anguis fragilis) is another reptile never come across but in one single locality — a small wooded dene close by Houxty. The first was found, dead, on April 3rd, 1902; since then, I have observed blindworms on three occasions, all at this same spot and during the months of April and June. They measure 9 or 10 inches in length. April This chapter has already reached its full normal limit ; yet it has only taken us to the end of March. The records of the truly vernal month of April are altogether too voluminous, and too interesting, to be crowded in as a mere appendix. I will therefore conclude the chapter by merely mentioning, with short introductory notes, 3G BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS the data respecting the arrival of the remaining spring- migrants. The exigencies of systematic treatment de- mand as much; but the details I will leave to a new chapter of their own. First of the birds to appear in the April list is the Dunlin [Tringa alpina). Towards the end of March, a few stray individuals will be observed in the lower haughs and river-valleys ; but none appear on the higher moors, where they breed, until the month of April is well established. Next comes the common Sandpiper [Totanus hyfio- leucus) — one of the dearest little "angler's companions" for the next four months. The middle of April is his due date; and, curiously, he often appears on the west coast (the Cumbrian Eden, Liddel, etc.) two days before he rejoices eye and ear on the eastern rivers, say the Tyne, Reed, Coquet, and Tweed. During many years' observation, ever on the keenest look-out for the first sight of this charming visitor, the earliest actual date of arrival was, I see, April 8th, 1899 — at Houxty, on North Tyne. About April 12th to 15th is, however, the average date. On first arrival, the sand- pipers are always inconspicuous, sitting silent and resting (evidently tired), among the shingle and gravel-beds. Next day there is a feeble half-song ; but, after that, for four months, the river-sides ring with their merry intonations. Their flight also, graceful and infinitely varied- — now skimming the surface, anon poising on tremulous pinions — is as full of beauty and as instinct with the poetry of motion as are their notes with merriment. The willow-wren invades the whole land by April 20th — my earliest note is the 15th. From that date EARLY SPRING ON THE MOORS 37 onwards, not a hedgerow or spinney, not a cleugh or dene — not even a little straggling- patch of natural birch or alder as far up on the fellside as trees can grow — but resounds with his charming cheery trill. These come literally in thousands : their congener, the Wood- Wren {Sylvia sibilatrix), also comes, but in far sparser numbers, and about ten days later. Yet this delicate little warbler goes quite as far : its true home is amidst sheltered vales and the deciduous woods of the low- lands. There it abounds ; yet here, on the wild moors, its vedettes penetrate to the furthest limits of tree- growth, to stunted clumps of birch and rowan high out in the most sequestered cleughs. Among such spots are Blackburn linn, on Reedwater : another at iooo feet, above East Neuk, near Elsdon. My brother Alfred also found it breeding on North Uist, in the Outer Hebrides, where there exist no trees at all. The chiffchafT, as already mentioned, arrives three weeks earlier; ; but never penetrates the upland, or ventures far from sheltering woodlands. The swallow and house-martin appear between April 20th and the end of the month. They are in no characteristic sense moorland birds, and I only restate the well-known fact here in faint hope that it may save the impetuous from rushing into print year after year with a report of "Swallows in March.'' Those early "swallows" are all sand-martins. CHAPTER IV SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS— (continued) Whatever buffets and disenchantments Spring may inflict on mankind, its vagaries affect but little the ordered lives of the feathered race. Throughout March and April, the strange love-song of the Blackcock charac- terises each glen and valley of the moorland. One hears everywhere that curious low note- — half bubbling, half hissing — and presently descries its author, a revolving black and white spot, in some wide pasture or on the rush-clad slope of the hill. Hard by, one sees his consorts, half a dozen greyhens, some picking off rush- seeds, others preening or resting, all supremely careless and apparently unmindful of these demonstrations elaborated for their attraction. At this season (April), the performance is almost incessant, lasting all day. As early as February it has begun, but is then confined to the first hour or two after daybreak. It is then one sees protracted combats between rival monarchs. So swift are their movements that human eye can scarce follow the fortunes of the fight in its critical stage- — my own, at least, utterly fails. Yet never has an apparently impossible subject been more vigorously portrayed than has this, by my friend o SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS 39 Mr J. G. Millais, in his Game-Birds and Shooting Sketches. By mid-April the extreme virulence of their rivalries is abating, and parties of blackcocks can feed amicably together. On the 14th I noticed no less than twenty-one thus assembled. No greyhens were present, yet several of the biggest old cocks moved about (feeding) with their widespreading tails erect and partially distended, as though that fashion was chronic at the season. Meanwhile, or rather, long before this period, the resident birds, that is, those hardy species that have weathered out the winter on the fells, have already com- menced to nest. First among these stand the raven and the heron. As early as February, amidst snow-clad hills, the raven prepares his nest, and often lays before the end of that month. On March 8th there were five eggs in one of the few eyries that yet survive. A fort- night earlier, this nest had already been repaired and completely renewed, but at that date was still empty. We have seen occupied nests at five different spots ; but they were not all used yearly, and some are now aban- doned. Many former strongholds retain now nothing but the tradition and the name, as Ravenscleugh, Ravenscrag, etc. The raven is gone, and his place occupied by a swarm of jackdaws, in the aggregate more mischievous than he. April 5 (1890). — There were still eggs unhatched in another nest — a very late date. The shepherd told me the old ravens had been rather destructive at the lambing time, killing several ewes ; such an act, however, if cor- rectly stated, is quite exceptional, and its possibility is doubtful, unless the sheep had previously been "cast," and was thus unable to regain its feet, in which event a 40 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS natural death often follows. The position of a dead sheep on the hill is frequently indicated by the flight of ravens, hooded crows, and blackbacked gulls. April 17 (1892). — Three young ravens in nest at C ; near full-grown ; but they did not leave the nest till May 12th. I have, however, known of a brood of young ravens fledged a week earlier than this. April 1 (1893). — Two young ravens hatched to-day. This nest is in a very difficult position, all but inaccessible ; that previously mentioned is in so simple a place one might almost walk into it- — a tumble of huge boulders flanking a ravine. Two of the five eyries mentioned are so situate that, although inaccessible even by skilled rock-climbing, yet the nests are overlooked from adjoin- ing crags, and the eggs or young can thus be seen in situ at quite short range. Yet another nest is situate midway down a heathery escarpment, so precipitous that neither sheep nor man can maintain equilibrium thereon, though I have seen goats cross it. It forms the northern flank of a mountain-gorge. About 100 feet below the summit, pro- jects a grey boulder, half cleft asunder, and ornamented by a gnarled and wind-tormented rowan. It is in the cleft beneath, that the eyrie is situated. In the sixties many of these raven-haunted crags were distant 20 miles and upwards from the nearest railway. Nowadays, even in the wildest recesses of "Cheviots' mountains lone," there are few spots so remote. As showing the changes that have taken place within the lifetime of one man, my venerable friend, Canon Tristram of Durham, told me that he himself, during the thirties, found nests of the follow- ing, all in the parish of Eglingham, Northumberland, 3V :M&A knSt^ SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS 41 to wit : Buzzard, very common ; kite ; marsh- and hen- harriers ; peregrine and raven. Of the six birds the four first named have now absolutely vanished as breeding species. The Heron of late years, has found his ancient custom of nesting gregatim too dangerous, and is adapting his habit to modern necessities. The older heronries are being abandoned, and these stately birds begin to nest in scattered groups of two, three, or four pairs, selecting some straggled clump of pines far out on the remotest moors. In these sequestered refuges, the herons build in February, and in some years have eggs soon after the middle of that month. The Dipper I place next — a typical moor bird. About the Ides of March you may see it in rapid direct flight (always holding mid-stream), and you notice, as it passes, green moss in its beak. By the 25th the nest is complete, though fast-ice may still fringe the burn, and icicles impend the site. The dipper works by the calendar and ignores thermometers ; no stress of frost interferes with its rigid programme, and eggs are laid in March. Those who know the bird, who have heard the male in full song in the severest weather of mid-winter, and then watched him plunge blythely beneath the ice with a temperature close by zero, would scarcely be surprised if he elected to nest at Christmas. A favourite site is in the linns, or small waterfalls, where a hill-burn comes tumbling and splashing over some rock-ridge. Many of these linns, overhung by gnarled and lichen-clad birch and rowan, and fringed with shaggy heather and bog-myrtle, form the wildest and most lovely nooks in the wild moorland. There, on a crevice of the moss-grown rock, half hidden by 42 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS fern, and all but indistinguishable from its environment, is the dipper's nest — a great round globe of green moss, amidst the very spray of the tumbling waters. The outside is splashed and wet ; the old birds must pass, to and fro, through the fringe of the cascade, to reach their home. That is just what these little am- Anglers' Companions— the Dipper. phibians like, and hardly a linn among the hills but has its pair of white-breasted tenants. Elsewhere, nests are placed among exposed roots, or on a gnarled branch overhanging the water ; in the latter site, the nest is apt to be very conspicuous, its green moss contrasting with the grey clumps of dry wrack and drift stuck in the branches around and above. Moreover, had instinct risen to the level of reasoning power, the little architects would have seen in this wrack, SPRING-TIME ON" THE MOORS 43 the evidence of floods that presently may rise to destroy their home. Dippers' nests are ofttimes fixed on a big boulder islanded in mid-stream, others in the wing-walls of bridges, or on overhung rock-ledges. Inside, the nest is dry and warm, and the eggs number five or six — pure white, but showing a pretty pink blush when freshly laid. The young are already on wing in April — second broods up to June — and from the first take lovingly to the water, diving like water-rats long before they can fly. Level, in point of date, come the Owls. The tawny owl {Syruuun aluco) is thoroughly characteristic, nest- ing in all the larger deciduous woods of ancient growth, and startling the nocturnal echoes with their sonorous hoo-hoo-hooo — or, as Shakespeare put it, too-whit, too- hoo. In Morocco, the Arabs render it by their phonetic name, Bii-rii-ru. Some hollowed tree in the deep wood, a cavernous centenarian, will serve year after year for a home. There is no nest — the eggs lie amid scraps of touchwood ; the entrance, three feet long, sometimes four, vertically above, may yet be a mere slit scarce four inches in width — very inconvenient, one would think, for so large a bird. March 25th is the date of laying, and the eggs usually number three. I have noticed some curious habits of this species at Houxty. Here, where my immediate neighbours are mostly feathered, furred, or scaled,1 the tawny owl abounds. A favourite stance is in an immemorial elm just outside my window, where (much as I love the owls) a continuous serenade, shocking the silence of night in alto staccato, is occasionally inconvenient during the 1 I hasten to explain that this does not apply to all: there are those whose epidermis is cpuite beyond suspicion. 4A BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS small hours. I used, moreover, to feel (though I never admitted) some slight misgiving- for the safety of my small rearing of pheasants and wild-duck, which abide hard by. For the innocence and moral character of my owls, I steadfastly stood bail, and never but once have they abused my confidence. Their one lapse, in the interests of even-handed justice even to "vermin" (as owls are stigmatised by the wooden-headed), shall be duly recorded at its proper season. Meanwhile, in April, 1904, we found a nest of the tawny owl — or rather, two down-clad owlets and an addled egg — lying on the bare pine-needles at the foot of a spruce. There was neither nest nor other shelter whatever, beyond two big sloping root-shafts, in the angle of which the owlets lay on the ground. I had the pleasure of showing this site, a month later, to Mr Howard Saunders and Mr F. C. Selous. The following year, these owls (presumably the same pair) nested in a similar situation, only a few hundred yards away. But their new home, when discovered in April, presented quite a different, and a very extraor- dinary picture. For the downy triplets now reposed amid a veritable holocaust of tiny corpses, which formed, as it were, a rampart around their nursery. These, on examination, numbered twenty-four, to wit : — thirteen field-mice (long- and short-tailed), four shrews, one star- ling, a cock chaffinch, two fledgling missel-thrushes, and three baby rabbits. For a single day's supply (and owls are clean feeders, rejecting carrion), this list is eloquent of the utility of the genus. Another owl's larder, on Cheviot, contained (besides many mice and young rabbits) a frog, half-eaten, and a willow-wren. SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS 45 The Long-eared Owls are equally abundant, but pre- fer coniferous woods. They also prefer a proper nest, but dislike the troubles of construction ; hence their keenness to forestall some more industrious architect. This may be one reason for their extremely early nest- ing. One pair, on March 19th, had already commenced to sit on five eggs laid in a nest which was built and occupied the previous year by sparrow-hawks. These latter, on arriving six weeks later, must surely have been concerned to find their patiently constructed plat- form of larch-twigs — their "freehold" — occupied by a staring, snapping, hissing brood. But the hawks did not resent the usurpation ; on the contrary, they adopted the precedent, and appropriated a wood-pigeon's nest hard by, where they laid their eggs alongside the cushat's pair. Next year the hawks built a new nest for themselves, and on May 4th, had seven eggs. The owls at that date had two large young — one ready to fly — besides three addled eggs, in the evicted hawk's abode. A peculiarity in the habits of this owl [Asio otus) deserves remark, though I have never noticed it but in one particular spot. In those woods, the whole of the resident owls, as soon as fledged, associated themselves (perhaps three or four broods) into a single family and selected a big umbrageous Scotch fir for their diurnal abode. To the particular tree of their choice — (it varied in different years) — the whole owl-world of those woods resorted at dawn ; and by day could be inter- viewed, though it was not easy, amidst flickering shadows, to detect the slim brown upright bodies pressed closely against the brown branches of the pine. Towards dusk, their awakening was notified afar by 46 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS the querulous cat-like cry ; ten minutes later, silent forms soar and circle outside the wood, and after some preliminary gyrations, the night's hunting begins in earnest. During the nesting-season, these owls have another cry — not unlike the petulant barking of a spoilt lap-dog ; but they never hoot. Besides the above, cushats also lay in March ; and so, of course, do rooks. But the only further remarks I will make on March-nesting birds, are these :■ — ■ March 20.- — A missel - thrush commenced laying, though there were 70 frost at night. Redshank in April. March 21. — Planted this day a big cypress {Thugofisis borealis). Five days later, a song-thrush had completed nest-building therein, and on the 28th this nest contained two eggs — exactly one week's work. March 31. — A stockdove's nest at the Keyheugh con- tained one egg — an exceptionally early date. By weaving together the numerous skeins above rudely collated, it will be seen that we already have, by mid-April, a sufficiently charming aggregation of bird-life on the moors. The purely summer-birds, the warblers, SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS 47 will not, it is true, be in evidence for another week ; but already the moorlands become resonant with vernal notes, with the sibilant pipe of curlew and plover, peewit and sandpiper, the flute-like song- of the ring- ouzel, the purring- of dunlin, and less musical notes of wheatears and gulls. The noisy redshanks are already (by April ioth) all localised in pairs about ■ the low- lying rushy pastures or stagnant backwaters, and very graceful are their actions as they wheel overhead, alternating rapid flight with short jerky periods, or Redshank in April. poising in mid air on wings curiously bent beneath and pointing stiffly downwards ; anon perching on a dead bough or a sheep-rail, still piping. We have found the nest of this species, on Reedwater, as early as April 22nd with four eggs. The redshank, in recent years, has increased immensely in numbers : six or eight pairs will now nest on a single moss, or marshy haugh, in parts where the bird was all but unknown when the first edition of this book appeared (1889). They are also nesting higher out on the fells than they formerly did. Among the bogs and mosses, snipe course high SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS 49 overhead, a dozen at a time, and their strange bleating note comes down from mid air, alternating with the sharp metallic "chip-chip" when flying free. That other sound, the "drumming," is only heard as the snipe, when in rapid flight, suddenly plunges vertically earthwards, and always against the wind. Snipe only drum- — or, at least, drum loudest, against the wind, and when thus hurling themselves headlong down- wards. When flying down-wind, I have also heard the sound produced by a sudden sidelong turn ; but it is feeble by comparison. The annexed diagram (p. 48) roughly illustrates the flight of a drumming snipe. The sound is produced only during the dotted periods, and seems clearly attributable to the wings (not the voice), since the key changes with any alteration in the snipe's course through the air, as at (a). The drumming commences about mid-March, and I have heard it as late as July 15th; but by that date it has lost its initial vigour. While nesting, snipe have another note, croaking or querulous, uttered when on the ground, or just rising therefrom ; I have noticed it when the bird was perched on a rail. Another of the vernal signs which, one after another, spring into being to attest the season, is the hum of the humble-bee. It shall not be omitted, for there is a thoroughly summer-like ring about it when first heard in early April. I notice that one year (1905) I heard it as early as March 25th. April 14. — Nest of grey wagtail, with four eggs, in a crag on Coquetside ; the first nest of the pied wagtail found that year was on the 17th, in an old stone-dyke. It will thus be seen that the wagtails are actually laying before the bulk of the summer-birds appear. April 15, 1905. — Willow- wrens singing everywhere D 50 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS — the earliest record in thirty odd years. The pink flowers of the burdocks are now coming" up through the sand on the river-side, though the leaves do not appear for some time yet. Api'il 17. — A woodcock's nest with four eggs in a bare opening in the woods on Derwentwater. It was among dead grass, with scattered briars and brackens around — a mere scraping, with a few dead oak-leaves beneath the eggs. The bird sat high, and her big full eye was very conspicuous. Woodcocks nest more or less sporadically throughout the Borderland, and young are seen on wing by the first week in May. April 20. — This I regard as the standard date, in average seasons, for the laying of the more important moorland birds, to wit : Grouse, mallard, golden plover, snipe, redshank, pied and grey wagtails, and stockdove. The following are a week or ten days later : Black- game, curlew, teal, ring-ouzel, dunlin, black-backed and black-headed gull. The curlews are not particular as to site. They nest high out on the hills ; but grass or heather, long or short, bare or dry ground or bog, all seem to suit them alike. Even when the nest is among long heather, there is no premeditated concealment. The curlew rather relies on her vigilance and keen eye, and rarely sits close when danger threatens, however distant; yet it is not difficult, owing to her size and light colour, to find these nests if one knows how to look for them. Her four eggs are laid in the closing days of April, one or two being often unfertile. The young curlews (rather ungainly creatures, owing to their immense legs), do not leave the nest on being hatched — as those of most of this genus do ; for, although they may not be found actually in the nest, SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS 51 they will be lying concealed close by, having- just slipped out on the approach of danger. This, of course, only applies to their early days. Golden plovers seldom nest among- covert — i.e., their nest is on shortest grass or heather, often on bare or burnt ground. There is no attempt at concealment. On being approached, one plover will rise straight from her eggs, 200 yards away ; another slinks off, creeping away unseen ; more rarely, she will rise from her eggs (even though freshly-laid) almost at one's feet. The young run as soon as hatched, but are long in acquiring the power of flight, and retain the golden down on their necks when full-grown, as any grouse-shooter may see in August. Peewits breed in thousands on the lower ground ; but not on the high moorland beloved of curlew and plover. The first week of April, by the way, is the time for finding their eggs. Snipe nest at all elevations, on hill or vale. Their nests are well concealed under a dry tuft of grass or heather, and the old bird sits close. Snipe are somewhat irregular in date of laying. I have found young snipes unable to fly, on August 12th; and, on the other hand, have known of a nest as early as March 19th, and of young snipes on the wing by the end of April. The stockdove lays her two eggs in the crags by April 20th, but (like all the pigeon-tribe) compensates for shortage in numbers by breeding continuously all through the summer, fresh eggs being laid up to the end of June. A few twigs of birch or heather serve for the nest, save in vertical crevices, where more material is needed for a foundation — unless jackdaws have previously filled the hole with sticks, as their habit is. One nest, on May 7th, we found in a different situation — under an immense 52 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS boulder at the Cloven Crag", a mass of tumbled rocks flanking a singular cleft in the hills looking down on Coquetdale. These eggs lay on the bare peat, 1 8 inches from the entrance. April 22. — Pied flycatcher, Houxty burn. This is the earliest arrival I have noted of this species, which, though increasing, yet remains a scarce bird. Apidl 23. — White wagtail, also at Houxty. I have only noticed this bird (so common and familiar in Norway) on three occasions in the British Isles. The first was on May 24th, 1885, near Scots Gap; and, by a curious coincidence, my friend Mr Howard Saunders had observed another, on the same day, in another part of Northumberland, viz., at Langley Castle on South Tyne. On September 21st, 1892, a white wagtail (in company with several of the pied and grey species, both old and young) frequented the burn under our window at Otterburn, during nearly a whole week. The third instance occurred at Loch Merkland, in Sutherland ; it was feeding about the garden of the lodge all the morning of October 13th (1898)- — -rather a late date for a wagtail. The day before, I had shot, on Ben Hee, a royal stag, whose antlers taped hard by a yard in length — should any doubt, they may consult Rowland Ward's Records of Big" Gaitie. April 23. — Heard to-day the linnet-like song of the Twite, on the slopes of Monkridge fell ; near the spot where, a month later (on May 21st), we watched the female to her nest. It was built among the heather, like a titlark's, and contained five eggs. It is outside the scope of this work to record the arrivals of all the summer-birds ; but two others that are SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS 53 truly typical if not of the moorland, at least of the foot- hills and of the "fringe of the moor," must not be left unnoticed. These are the whinchat and the redstart — two little beauties, both of which may be looked for during April. The 21st is my earliest note for the red- start,1 the 28th for the whinchat. Both are abundant. The stonechat, on the contrary, is extremely local, and quite unknown over wide areas of the Borders. It, moreover, remains during- winter. Year after year at this season (mid-April), one observes, while rambling with one's rod along. the burns, the packs of golden plovers still frequenting the haughs and lower grounds. By this date, the packed plovers are visibly blacker beneath than the nesting pairs on the hills above. One now ,also hears, among the packed plovers, that loud wild spring-cry which I have before rendered — Tirr-pee-you- — a sure index that they are ready to depart. The breeding plovers no longer utter this cry ; their note is now confined to the single plaintive pipe and a peculiar rippling song, or warble that is wholly undescribable. It is the joyous note of court- ship, analogous with the drumming of snipe and peewit. Most birds — dunlin, redshank, curlew, and many more — have dual notes at this season, namely, their ordinary notes of alarm or communication, and this ebulition indicative of the exuberant spirit of the vernal season. Ten days later, I have the following note : — April 27. — Though weather continues bitterly cold, and the sting of the east wind has lost none of its marrow- piercing venom, yet the packs of golden plovers have now utterly disappeared from all the haughs. Not one remains 1 I see that in 1892 I observed redstarts as early as April 14th, on the Wansbeck ; and in 1895, on the 17th, at Kelso, on Tweed. 54 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS where, a week ago, there were hundreds. Instinctive perception of dates rarely fails. Their appointed season has arrived, and these birds know it to a day — they know that the wastes and tundras of Northern Europe and Asia are ready for their reception, and they have gone. The foreign-bound curlews, too, have now disappeared from the coast. My winter puntsman (specially instructed to watch them) wrote that April 2>otk was the last day on which he observed them in any quantities on the sand- flats where they had spent all the winter and spring. (On the same date, by a mere coincidence, we found the first nest of the year, with four eggs, on the moors.) The above corresponds with the known arrival of curlews and plovers in the far north. I have a note of the arrival: of plovers at Langnses, Tromso, on May 12th, and on the 18th a curlew's nest was found — considered there exceptionally early ; yet three weeks later than here, on the Borders. Thus the month of April witnesses not only the arrival of nearly all the summer-birds, but also the departure of our winter visitants. Fieldfares, it is true, linger on into May ; so do golden-eyes. But the great majority have gone. Jack-snipes collect in little wisps in March and linger but little after that ; long before one hears the first half-song of the sandpiper, they, and the hooded crows, have vanished. A singular combination marks the close of the month. Everywhere, from the same trees, you may hear simultane- ously the chattering of fieldfares and the merry trill of the willow-wren. The latter, a fortnight before, was at home in Africa ; a fortnight hence, the fieldfares will be nesting by the Arctic circle. April 29. — Spring-salmon, male, 17 lbs., Gold-island stream, Houxty — the earliest record here. The first SPRING-TIME ON THE MOORS 55 female fish was landed May 15th, weight 15 lbs. These are not given as early dates : but merely as my own. This spring, a salmon was killed further up the river, at Lee- Hall, on February 27th, but that is quite exceptional. Mmrr Old Blackcock "in Play." CHAPTER V STRAY NOTES ON THE GAME-FISH During the months of March and April, the North Tyne, Reedwater, and other Border rivers swarm with the kelts of salmon and bull-trout, awaiting suitable floods to take them down to the sea. These kelts, in certain years, are subject to a disease, Saprolegnia ferax, which disfigures them with ugly white leprose spots, especially about the head, and the poor wretches lie, inert and listless, in back- waters and burn-mouths. For many of these, a flood- water would avail nothing ; they are too far gone, and the sand- banks are strewn with the bodies of those already dead- — ■ choice morsels for the corbies. A serious nuisance to the trout-fisher in early spring are these great hungry kelts- — an epithet to be noted for remembrance later. At that season the "rise" of trout to fly is very uncertain and always brief. In March it may be counted in minutes ; in April it may last an hour — perhaps two — some time between eleven and three o'clock. At length that crucial moment arrives. The angler who has been awaiting it, watching for every premonitory symptom, is all alert and ready for action at precisely that spot where (conditions of water and wind being considered) success is best assured. Already, within a quarter of an hour from the start, he has encreeled six, eight — possibly 06 STRAY NOTES ON THE GAME-FISH 57 ten — golden-spangled beauties. Then follows a "big one " ■ — mark that a trout of a pound weight is big' on Border streams ; this one looks fully that.1 The angler thinks "a bit more"\ but no precious seconds can now be wasted in weighing, and away flies the triple lure without interruption for a moment. Alas, the response this time is that dead sullen pull so fatal to all his hopes and chances for that day. A great salmon-kelt has taken the " teal-and-yellow "■ — a fish of three feet in length, that, when he came from sea, weighed well-nigh 20 lbs. With a 12-foot rod and finest gut, the angler knows there will be ten to twenty minutes lost ere he can hope to clear his hook from those uninvited and undesired jaws — twenty of those "creamy" minutes that only recur on a few days each year! Meanwhile the trout continue rising all round in tantalising security. The weight of the intruder tells on fine tackle ; but at length he is played out, brought alongside, and "tailed" — he is far too big for the landing-net. Free once more, the angler again revels in a few joyous moments with the trout. Luckily, they are still in play. But, at any moment, a second such catastrophe may occur ; in which event, another ten minutes— fifteen • — perhaps twenty, are lost, and then the rise is over for that day. However intimately one may know a river and its subaqueous geography, it is impossible wholly to avoid these kelts. They are ubiquitous, and voracious of "feathers" — yet rarely indeed have I seen one take a living fly, or other natural food whatever. These last dozen words I feel inclined to underline. 1 The largest trout that has fallen to the author's lot in the Borderland was landed while this chapter was being written, at Houxty — May 23rd, 1906. Length, 21 inches ; weight, 2^ lbs. 58 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS Years ago, on the Reedwater, in April, a tragedy occurred before my eyes. In a still pool raged sudden commotion. Towards the shallow shore where I stood, raced trout and troutlets in scores, splashing in and out of water in evident terror- — several so stranding them- selves that I picked up three or four. Behind them was clearly defined the heavier wave of something big. At the moment, I concluded it was a marauding kelt. But that, I am now satisfied, it' was not; for, if such were the habits of kelts, one would see the spectacle repeated daily — almost hourly ; whereas never during a lifetime have I witnessed such a scene save on this one solitary occasion. The actual aggressor never showed ; it might have been an otter, less improbably a pike, which fish, previously unknown, at that time appeared in Reedwater. A cannibal trout is the simpler solution. The above incident is mentioned as illustrative of one of the many inexplicable features that surround the lives of salmon in fresh waters. After spawning, the kelts do most undoubtedly feed, for they rapidly recover con- dition on their seaward way. Yet one never sees them feeding as one sees the trout — one seldom or never sees them taking natural flies ; still less, chasing smaller fish. And it would be impossible, within the narrow limits of a river, for such large fish to do these things unseen. There is, of course, the alternative that they find nourishment in other ways ; but, in such case, their intense greed for artificial flies becomes still more incomprehensible. In bidding good-bye to the kelts — (to whom, by the way, our utmost respect is due, for, however intrusive and annoying they may be to the trout-fisher, we must remember that they have done their duty once, and are only anxious to do it again) — I may add that it is STRAY NOTES ON THE GAME-FISH 59 no unusual experience to be "hung up" in them three or four times during a short day's fishing. By my notes, I see that I have hooked as many as seven in one day, despite every effort to avoid them. In these rivers, as yet, new-run salmon are few and far between. A succession of favouring floods may bring some fish up in March : for Mr Taylor of Chipchase Castle" tells me he has killed many in North Tyne during that month, and even, exceptionally, as early as February. Here, I have not noticed spring-salmon before April — or, perhaps it would be more correct to say, I have not found them worth trying for until that month. During April and May every fair-sized flood will bring up fresh spring- salmon : and a few continue to run in June and July, though there is certainly some stagnation at the latter period, the fish then captured being either grilse (which arrive with the bull-trout in July), or salmon which had entered the river earlier and are now moving up, stage by stage, as waters serve. The autumn run in North Tyne begins in August and September. But truly the move- ments of salmon are unaccountable — irreducible to rule or reason, since almost each river has its own varying season ; while the underlying causes which actuate those move- ments are as completely unknown to-day as they were a thousand years ago. The Eden, for example, I have known, in suitable seasons, to be full of spring-salmon by February 15th (when the fishing opens), and many had presumably entered long before that date. In that river, the spring-run may last, given favourable condi- tions, till the end of April. It then ceases entirely until the autumn. In Tweed, ' the run of salmon coincides, roughly speaking, with that in Eden. That is, in these two 60 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS rivers, there is a distinct spring-run and an autumn-run : separated by a quiescent period during the summer. Without attempting to go into the larger questions here raised, and which lie beyond the scope of this book, I will briefly outline my ideas on the biology of the salmon. In the beginning — that is, long before historic times, greenheart rods and "black-doctors"- — the more enter- prising of the genus Salmo, finding the competition of the rivers inconvenient, and after successful trial forays in the brackish estuaries, at length boldly ventured forth into the open sea. The result in process of time was the evolution of Salmo salar, the less enterprising individuals remain- ing Salmo fario. Just as the bird- world (as suggested in a former chapter) tend, at their reproductive season, to seek the north as being, ages ago, their original home and centre of dispersal ; so the evolved form of Salmo returns, by hereditary instinct, to reproduce his race in the same fresh waters wherein he was born. But how is it to be explained that the salmon of each particular river have their own particular ideas of the proper season to return thereto ? There should be a reason ; yet none is apparent — unless it be as suggested below. For their return to fresh waters by no means coincides with the period when they are due to spawn therein. On the contrary, their habits in this respect seem absolutely irrational and illogical, and certainly entail to the early- run salmon many months of grave inconvenience and discomfort for no visible object whatever. Instead of roving the open sea, he deliberately coops himself up, for all the long hot summer, within the narrow limits of some still pool or hole. The spawning season of salmon is in mid-winter. That STRAY NOTES ON THE GAME-FISH 61 is, at least, one fixed point in their career. It is practi- cally the only one — the only bed-rock on which reason- ing may find a solid base. Why then, knowing- that they will not spawn till near Christmas, should salmon enter the rivers in February — or even in April? The idea of obtaining- food must be dismissed at once. That all tends the other way, since there exists no food in fresh waters for them. In those far back ages, in his fire- salar period, the salmon recognised that rivers afforded no feeding-grounds for him. It is to that prescience he owes his evolution. All salmon return from sea in the highest possible con- dition— in a word, gorged with high living. So distended with curd and fatty matter are the early-spring fish that not one more ounce could they contain. This "curd" overlying the whole body, interposed between each flake of flesh, and clothing the pylorics, is Nature's provision — her substitute for food, during the salmon's sojourn in fresh water. The salmon then needs no food ; but, far more than that, he is, I am satisfied, incapable of receiv- ing or assimilating food. His stomach and digestive organs are already, ere yet he has quitted salt water, thrown temporarily out of gear — shrivelled up. I believe I was one of the first to notice this fact ; though Sir Herbert Maxwell had arrived at similar con- clusions about the same time or possibly before. It was in the summer of 1892, when fishing in Surendal, Norway, that my attention was drawn thereto. Each night our host, Mr Fleetwood Sandeman, held autopsies on the salmon caught during the day : the object being to discover what food their stomachs contained. A practical anatomist, it is clear, was needed ; and I do not think any of us claimed the smallest technical knowledge of that science. Yet even 62 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS to inexpert hands it was not difficult to discover, by following down the gullet from the throat, that that gullet led to no "stomach," but to a shrivelied-up organ that once, one might assume, had been the stomach. Possibly we were wholly wrong - — in our technical ignorance, made some mistake ; though I hardly think that probable. At any rate those are the facts, and the grounds from which the above conclusions are deduced. The function of a salmon, once he has entered the fresh water, is wholly and solely to reproduce his species. It is his one idea, object, and occupation. But, for all that, he yet remains a raptor — a fierce creature of prey. You can re-awaken that dormant pugnacity with a "Jock Scott," or arouse his ire with a "phantom" ; but his appetite you cannot tempt, for the digestive organs, which, all his sojourn in the sea, worked at highest pressure, are no longer in use ; the whole physical and corporeal energies are now transferred to those of reproduction. That performed, he becomes a kelt once more, with a renewed appetite for light articles of food, such as March-browns ; and there, amidst all these perplexities, we will leave him. For the only conclusion one can come to is that, as soon as ever a salmon in the sea is fully "fed up," and can no more, he must at once return to fresh water ; and that that condition may be attained at quite irregular times, often entirely irrespective of Nature's one fixed date, the spawning-time in December. The subaquatic habit of fish (and especially of migrating fish) imposes a degree of care in formu- lating conclusions beyond even those that prevail in other branches of zoology. For so much is unseen, STRAY NOTES ON THE GAME-FISH 63 so much must be inferred, that life-facts become propor- tionately less capable of proof, more dependent on deduction — or even conjecture- — than is the case with birds or other terrestrial forms of life. The value of work herein depends on correct apportionment of weight to the few facts that come within the scope of vision. • For that reason, while writing" of the observed habits of kelts, I have purposely minimised the evidence in regard to their taking" insect-food ; since an undue importance may possibly be attached thereto. For it is natural to conclude when kelts are observed to gulp down surface- flies, that such is their regular means of subsistence. But if that were the case (instead of being, as I hope to show, merely the exception), the phenomenon would be of unmistakable daily demonstration. For in early spring, the rivers swarm with kelts ; if these large fish had to satisfy voracious appetites in such manner, the waters would boil with their constant rises and plunges — as it actually does, on a minor scale, with those of trout. And that demonstration would be the more conspicuous owing to the greater bulk of kelts as compared with trout ; and secondly, because of the essentially different construc- tion of the two. For whereas river-trout are enabled by their possession of air-glands, inflatable at will, to float buoyantly in mid-water, so that, during a "hatch" of fly, they can lie poised within an inch or two of the surface, ready to snap up the floating food with a minimum of effort and of splashing ; yet the case of the migratory Salmonidcs is entirely different. They; not being so provided with air-glands, are incapable of floating thus, poised at ease in mid-water, or near its surface. The salmon, while in fresh water, must perforce rest on the bed of the stream, his weight supported on some convenient 64 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS stone or rock-ledge. Hence, for every surface-fly seized, a salmon would be compelled to rise through the entire depth of the water. For these reasons, sufficing or otherwise, I conclude that kelts do not take natural floating flies as a regular means of subsistence ; though they may, and on occasion do, snap at a passing March-brown by way of amusement,- exercise, or from other inconsequent motive. Salmon-fishing, as a sport, stands second to no other, whether in the skill required and the knowledge of one's game that it involves ; as well as in the prolonged tension of mind and muscle when handling a heavy fish. More- over, and beyond all that, it cannot be artificialised. Hence it is regrettable that salmon should still be netted after their arrival within fresh-waters. By all means net them in the open sea so long as local conditions warrant. But netting in rivers — in the narrow waterways of British rivers — is not fair-play; rather is it a "method of bar- barism " that may fitly be relegated to Lapps, and Finns, and such-like aborigines. The habits of the bull-trout {Salmo eriox) are, in this river, North Tyne, more rational and comprehensible than are those of the salmon, for he arrives later, and spawns earlier ; hence his sojourn in fresh water ap- proaches nearer the minimum. None arrive much before July, until, according to a local adage, somewhat cryptic, "the alder leaf is as big as a bull's eye." Then the fish of this species begin to spawn much earlier — often during the month of October. As a rule, they ascend the hill- burns — often mere rivulets — for this purpose. One such burnlet close to my house, which is sometimes stone-dry all summer, is often occupied towards the end of October, by many pairs of bull-trout running to 3 and even 4 STRAY NOTES ON THE GAME-FISH G5 pounds in weight. These fish ascend two, and even three, miles from the main river; yet within a fortnight they have deposited their eggs, covered these over in heaps of new-turned yellow gravel, and themselves re- turned to the river, presumably proceeding seaward. But when a droughty summer is prolonged into autumn, and the hill-burns remain dry in October, the bull-trout must perforce remain to spawn (against their instinct) in the main river. Such was the case in 1904, when I watched their procedure with interest. Great part of the river here (at Houxty) is one long spawning-bed of salmon ; and it was remarkable to watch how carefully the bull-trout (compelled by circum- stance to use their bigger cousins' territory) avoided all spots which were likely to be selected later on by the latter. Whether this arose from prescient instinct, or merely from difference in habit, the "bullies" all selected nests in the gravelly shallows towards the shore, or in the "breaks," or pool-tails. Had they done so in mid-stream, or the deeper waters, their labour would have been lost, for their eggs would inevitably have been rooted up, and scattered abroad in the current, two months later, when these sites were all occupied by a wallowing crowd of salmon. The true sea-trout (Salmo truttd) is comparatively scarce in this river. I have only caught three ; one a new-run fish of rather under 2 lbs., the other two, kelts of corresponding dimensions. The bull-trout, as a rule, run bigger than this, averaging here nearly 3 lbs., while some few reach 5 or 6 lbs. in weight. One of the most charming of Nature's episodes in wild-life may be enjoyed every April, what time the big March-browns hatch out. The phenomenon, hovv- E G6 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS ever, is irregular, and independent in its coming" of any- palpable or calculable cause. The ephemerae may appear in their thousands while snowflakes drive on a bitter east wind. The next day is mild and balmy, yet not an insect appears. Some days the "hatch" may last an hour — or even two, or more ; on others, it ceases in five minutes. To the angler this is perplexing-, since no years of experience will afford data on which to base a forecast. He must perforce utilise what patience he possesses and await, shivering on the bank, the psychological moment, ever ready for instant action, should it arrive. Presently from the heavens appear a score of black- headed gulls, sweeping to and fro across the waters. They, like him, are on the watch for a hatch of March- browns ; but they also lack data — or instinct fails. Ten minutes later, the gulls have gone. The angler may rest assured that there will be no "hatch" that day. But such incidents are the exception, not the rule. Generally speaking, the advent of those gulls foretells a hatch. Within a very few seconds the whole water- surface will have become alive with swarming ephemerae. From the gravelly depths beneath, ascend thousands — aye, millions of newly-born insects, each floating perkily upright ; great brown fellows, drying and straightening their yet crumpled wings in the life-giving sunshine — (or sleet !). Anon they essay a tentative flight, fluttering a few yards, again to alight on the smooth-running stream. Yet so light are they, so buoyant and to the manner born, that they pass safely through rough bits — they navigate rapids and never ship a sea. Poor ephemerae ! now comes the harvest for bird and fish ; alike from above and below, those light-hearted STRAY NOTES ON THE GAME-FISH 67 insects are gobbled up in millions. The patient gulls ■ — disappointed yesterday — now poise and sweep and scream on every side, picking up two score to the minute. Sand-martins work in shoals, passing, a dozen at a time beneath one's rod, and never miss their aim, flicking the surface with flying breast as each victim is snapped off the stream. Wagtails (pied and grey) are there, taking toll ; even the titlark and the chaffinch dart out from the fringing alders and pick off those floating luxuries with wholly unwonted dexterity. The shy mallard forgets for a moment his deep-rooted fears, and joins the feast. The air is flecked with darting, poising, screaming forms, all working at top- most pressure ; for all know how transient the oppor- tunity may be. But what of the trout all this time? Hitherto, not one has moved, and the "hatch" has been going on for five minutes. Yes, there goes one at last — a dashing rise that means business, with the glint of a golden side exposed. A second follows, then another. Then, in a moment, the whole water boils with rising trout. The fish have lost — or wasted — or ignored (one cannot tell which) a full five minutes, sometimes ten, of that precious opportunity. They try to make up for that now. During ten minutes, or twenty, this scene continues ; birds above, trout below, gorge down the luckless ephemerae. Then, in one moment, suddenly as they began, the trout, with one accord, cease all at once. The fly still drifts down in undiminished multitude ; yet not a rise now breaks the surface. It ceased as by word of command. Are they gorged ? All gorged, and at precisely the same moment ? Who can say ? Presently you see a change — there are fewer fly — now 68 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS there are none. * As by magic, the hatch has ceased, and of all those myriads, not a living fly can now be seen. Not one survives' — only the wreckage, the flotsam and jetsam, drifting limp, black and dead. Countless corpses strew the backwaters and darken every foam-wreath. Nature's little tragedy is over for that day. It has lasted forty minutes. In that period those March-browns have lived their lives — some of them ; and all have died. Birds and fish alike have disappeared — satiated. But the angler — what of him ? Few, it may be, and disappointing are the captures he has made. Why should he, or rather, how can he expect to succeed ? Amidst all those myriads of the real living prey, why should the silliest of trout consider a feathery counterfeit? A "general hatch" is not the angler's chance. That will come presently, and with less demonstration. It comes when he sees those quiet steady rises — at nice regular intervals — just outside the curl of the current ; and when but a stray spring-fly flickers here and there in the shade of the willows. CHAPTER VI MAY ON THE MOORS May is a month of repose. It lacks that feverish excite- ment which has characterised the two preceding" moons, during which the whole bird-world has been on the move — on long" sea-travel or short, on through-transits, or merely local redistribution. True, there remain two summer-migrants yet to arrive from afar (the nightjar and landrail) ; but they are unimportant in the general scope. In May the birds, far-travelled or otherwise, have settled down, for two months, to the routine of domestic cares and felicities. Throughout the Borders are many breeding- colonies of the Black-headed Gulls, and the larger gulleries present one of the most animated of moorland scenes. Almost each large sheet of water has its colony ; while many a remote moss-pool or nameless hill-lough boasts its pair or two of this most graceful species. By May ist there is abundance of gulls' eggs. At a lough on a moor I then rented, were 150 nests. Ten years previously, there were but a dozen or so ; perhaps our care and protection had tended towards that increase. The nests, of heather and dead rush, crowd thickly along the lough-side on the short heather and spongy green sphagnum — others are outside on mossy islets. 69 70 BIRD-LIFE OP THE BORDERS Hardly two eggs are alike, even in the same nest. They display every shade of green, blue, and brown ; some dark and heavily blotched, others pale and almost spotless : and the variation even extends to shape. The regular complement of eggs numbers three ; but even when "chipping" (on May 18th), there were nests that only contained two, or sometimes a single egg. By June, the young are old enough to creep away among the heather, and pretty little objects they are — warm yellowish-brown in colour, spotted with black, with large eyes, full and dark ; their beaks and legs pinkish, the former tipped, the latter shaded, dusky. When fledged, the young gulls are prettily variegated with warm browns, in pleasing contrast writh the pale French-grey and snowy whiteness of the rest of their plumage. Hard by, on an islet, was a mallard's nest, while two pairs of teal bred on dry tussocks in an adjoining flowe. Yet withal, no sign of spring can yet be detected out here, save among the birds. Not a shoot of grass or fern has yet appeared ; the heather is brown and lifeless — the plant-world has not yet awakened from its winter's sleep. . Jackdaws are persistent raiders of these gulleries. Their own homes may be miles away ; yet here they are, ever in evidence and ever on the look-out for a chance to plunder. They are, too, masters of the situation, and one sees young gulls lying dead with a sharp beak-thrust through their soft stomachs. We intervened to vary Nature's balance, and by setting traps baited with eggs, materially reduced the numbers of the marauders and scared the rest. It is noteworthy that not a gull came near the traps, showing that this small species is innocent of egg-stealing. Its food consists largely of worms, slugs, MAY ON THE MOORS 71 etc., in search of which the gulls come down regularly to the grass-lands far below. There, in the long summer evenings, they hawk over the meadows after night-flying moths until it is nearly dark. Not so innocent are the Black-backed Gulls [Lai'us fuscus). These large and powerful birds are inveterate egg-stealers. One I found floating dead in Darden lough, choked with a mallard's egg; stuck fast in his gullet.1 It is this species, the Lesser Blackback, that breeds thousands strong on the coast, at the Fame Islands, some 30 miles away ; but they also nest inland, on the moors of North Tyne, to the westward of Wark, and in numbers which are increasing. Their colonies they establish- — not alongside loughs, as the black-headed gulls do — but far out on those wide, flat "mosses," often a mile or two in extent, that char- acterise this wild region. Here, far away from water, their rudely-built nests are scattered over the moss, amid bents and stunted heather. The three eggs, laid early in May, are hatched before the end of that month, and the down-clad young are pale grey, mottled with black spots, but lacking the warmer tints of L. vidibundits. On the moss around, lie scattered in damning pro- fusion the evidence of misdeeds. True, many of their cast pellets contain nothing but fur of rabbits and rats, mice, moles, and the like : others are composed of fish- bones, with feathers and remains of small birds ; but a truly direful proportion are crammed with egg-shells — and those mostly of grouse — while broken shells lie scattered broadcast.2 Occasionally, however, a brood of 1 This incident is quoted in Yarrell's British Birds, 4th ed., vol. iii., p. 627. '-' Those pellets which contain egg-shells only, are compacted with moss [sphagnuhi), as though the gulls had swallowed this for the express purpose. 72 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS grouse may escape : for, this year, in the midst of the "Seagull moss" on Hindlee Steel, we sprang a covey of eight, already able to fly : while, hard by, another grouse sat on six eggs, exactly 10 feet distant from the nearest gull's nest! The date, however (June 12th), showed that this grouse had already lost one sitting. One bitter experience was not enough for that foolish bird ; the second lesson would not be long delayed — it was probably learnt that same evening, on returning to her nest. Near another nest lay an adder, chewed, and appar- ently partially digested. We also found sea-shells, bivalves of strictly marine habitat, the Macoma balthica of Linnaeus ; though the sea is 40 miles distant. The shepherds aver that these are brought by the gulls to aid in forming their own egg-shells, and also positively accuse the latter of attacking sheep, both weakly lambs and old sheep when the latter are "cast "and unable to regain their feet- — a mischance to which these animals are always liable. The gulls then go for the eyes, thus assuring death' — not neces- sarily speedy. A couple of blackbacks, which we trapped, were certainly gorged with mutton : possibly this was "braxy" — at any rate, it was so horribly "high" as to discount any further interest in our specimens. The gulls are also great fishers ; and in the long summer days, when hill-burns run nearly dry, and trout have neither refuge nor defence, they are simply mopped up and annihilated. "We have long been tired of their company," quoth an "outbye" shepherd of his robber neighbours. Besides those reckless, much-venturing grouse, there were also, nesting on, or near, that moss (amidst 100 pairs of raiding gulls) a dunlin or two, a pair of twites, and numerous curlews, golden plovers, and titlarks. On Cairnglassenhope, also on North Tyne, a few MAY ON THE MOORS 73 pairs of blackbacks breed ; not in company, as on Hindlee Steel, but scattered singly over the mosses of that wild fell, and of Blackaburn adjoining-. There is a little eerie lough up there, on the boggy shores of which, or among the sedges that fringe them, is established an extensive colony of blackheads. The bigger gulls, however, nest far apart — a mile or two away — quite separately, both from their smaller cousins and from each other — only one pair occupying each broad "moss." Dunlins also nest on these mosses, together with curlews, plovers, teal, and mallard ; while a pair of merlins were established (1905) on a heathery slope hard by. On a dry tussock, lay half-devoured eggs of grouse and golden plover ; the depredator, in this instance, we had reason to imagine, might have been a corby. Mischievous and destructive as the big gulls are (and this year, on July 2nd, a pair of them mopped up a whole brood of eleven young wild-duck close to my house), yet I forgive them their trespasses solely for the sake of their picturesque appearance. In Northumberland we have ex- terminated everything big ; the soaring flight of buzzard or kite will never again delight one's eye. There is nothing left to us more imposing than this great gull. We have him on the Borders — far inland — in every month of the year, and — robber though he be — he fills that void. As he sweeps to and fro across wastes and waters on 4-foot pinions, with those cut-throat mandibles, and his boldly-contrasted colours, he is a magnificent object, and, with the heron, adds an element of stately dignity to the bird-life of the moorland, which, without them, would be lacking. Hence I would turn the blind eye to his crimes- — unless, indeed, his numbers increased quite unendurably. 74 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS The Herring-Gull {Larus argentatus) is also an oologist ; but rarely visits the inland moors. Its strong- hold is St Abbs' Head, a few pairs also nesting" on the Fames, among the blackbacks. But during the present spring (1906), I have enjoyed the satisfaction of finding this fine species nesting inland, alongside the blackbacks, on the mosses of Hindlee Steel on North Tyne, just described. There were only two or three pairs ; their nests placed in the midst of the robber-colony — yet it was clear that they (though few in numbers) were not the ieast important of its members. This is the first recorded instance of such an occurrence in Northumberland. The herring-gulls are the first to appear in spring at their inland stations, arriving towards the end of March — a few days in advance of the blackbacks. On the Scottish side also, these big gulls frequent the inland moors exactly as they do in Northumberland. Blackbacks in numbers, with a few herring-gulls, we observed, early and late, soaring over the moors of Roxburghshire. This was in May and June. We could not ascertain from keepers and shepherds where they bred ; but have no doubt there are nesting colonies inland, though time precluded our locating the exact spots in so wide and wild a country. On April 15th (1895), we found one of the Great Black-backed Gulls {L. marinus, immature) caught in a trap, baited with rabbit, on the top of Cappercleugh, a hill overlooking St Mary's Loch in Selkirkshire — the only instance of meeting with that species inland. May 1. — Greyhens have eggs by this date. Black- game are not so alpine in their tastes as grouse, and at this season come well down below the level of the heather. The haunts they now love are the rolling grass-prairies, MAY ON THE MOORS 75 moist and ill-drained, where the drier slopes are clad with bent and bracken, the hollows with rush, sedge, and natural wood of alder, birch, and scroggy saugh.1 To define the relative distribution of grouse and blackgame in spring, the former may be said to nest at the highest, the latter at the lowest, zones of their respective areas. Grouse .in spring seek the higher ground for nesting ; and in autumn (so far as they move at all) tend to shift downwards. Blackgame breed chiefly in the lowest ground of moorland character ; and as the young acquire strength in autumn, tend to climb outwards to the higher fells. Greyhens are often lamentably careless in their choice of a site ; one nest was in a tuft of rushes immediately adjoining a stile, another on a bank thrown up to form a sheep-washing pool on a burn ; and they frequently nest alongside a footpath, or open "green lane," where men and dogs pass daily. One nest in a young plantation at Houxty contained three partridges' eggs, as well as seven of its original owner. All ten were hatched. In 1877 we had deep snow in May. On the 4th we shot some fieldfares, and they remained about for a week later ; though then almost due to be nesting in Norway. May 7. — A single Golden-eye duck still lingers on the 1 I cannot find the word " saugh " in the dictionary ; but it is one of the commonest shrubs in the north. It is one of the willows, more of a bush than a tree. Were cattle and sheep removed (personally I wish they all lived in our colonies), a considerable area of the Borderland would, within a dozen years, become a jungle of saugh and silver-birch, rowan, willow, and hazel-scrub. There is a station on the North British line, a few miles from here, called "Saughtree" — amidst the green hills of Liddesdale. 76 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS lough — another northern-breeding species. The weather being warm and summer-like, it seems strange to see this winter duck still here. But the fjeld-lakes of Norway, whither he is bound, are still ice-bound, and will remain so for another fortnight. This I know from experience ; my little diving friend knows it equally well by intuition, or instinct. Hence he is in no hurry to be off. In 1886, I witnessed the arrival of two pairs of golden-eyes at their Norsk breeding-quarters on June 3rd. That lake was then just clear of ice. The Ring-Ouzel is a typical bird of the moorland, and this is his date for breeding. We found the first nest on May 7th at Leechope; another on the 13th, each with four eggs. Their most favourite site is some steep bank on the fells, where the nest finds support among the loose stalks of long shaggy heather. Others select more sheltered spots, among scrub or fern, or on a rocky scaur. On the burns, ring-ouzels often nest on a crevice of the crags ; sometimes in close companionship with a dipper. The nest resembles a blackbird's, but has a framework of heather-stalks ; eggs usually number four, occasionally five. The young are hatched in May, and on wing by mid- June. They remain on the moors, sheltering by day in bracken-beds, till the autumnal crop of wild fruits and berries (especially bilberry and rowan) is exhausted ; then they raid sub- jacent gardens before finally disappearing. The song of the ring-ouzel is one of the most pleas- ing of moorland melodies. There is not much of it, and it sounds feeble ; yet it can be heard afar- — a mellow triple pipe, that when heard in the dusk of a summer's evening, coming from far above, or from the depths of some rocky glen, is full of the genius loci, sweetly wild. MAY ON THE MOORS 77 The Dunlin is the next of the moorland birds whose summer-history I shall endeavour to portray. He is not an easy study. Arriving- on the higher fells in April, the dunlins are scattered so widely in sporadic pairs, or groups of pairs, that one may search for a week without seeing a sign of their presence. Year after year they return to the identical moss or flowe- — it is perhaps a mile in circuit, and that great, flat, featureless area is tenanted by but a single pair of dunlins. Very likely there is not another haunt within 10 miles. Then, when at last you have succeeded in locating them, they are most perplexing birds to understand. They are so ridiculously tame, running around almost within arm's length, "purring" the while in their peculiar fashion, that they induce you to believe their nest must be close at hand. Yet, after lying prone in that oozy bog for half an hour, up goes the dunlin with a little wild pipe and flies out of sight. True, they are beautiful to watch, graceful in the extreme ; but such conduct exasperates. I have seen them, year after year, in spots where they certainly do not breed, perform all their presumptively breeding antics, as though gratuitously to deceive. When at length the nest is found, it will be situated on a tiny hummock — one of thousands, all similar — in some broad flowe, each hummock islanded by a labyrinth of black oozy peat-channels. The nest itself is not con- cealed— a mere depression, artlessly lined — among the low bents, stunted heather, and cotton-grass that clothe the hummock. The dunlin herself, knowing that her treasures have been discovered, still continues crooning and "purring" close by, and even pretends to be feeding, or preening her upper-coverts. Later on, however, when the eggs are incubated, she flutters off with a fine display of 78 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS feigned lameness. Young- dunlins "in down" are very richly-coloured, dark ruddy-brown, somewhat resembling- nestling' snipes. Dunlins breed on the highest part of Cheviot (2676 feet), and on the grassy heights of Sourhope, on the Scot- tish side ; thence westwards, in very widely scattered pairs, along the line of the Borders down to the Sol way, where many nest on Burgh and Rockcliffe marshes, actually at sea-level. They are, I think, rather more numerous away from the plutonic formations of Cheviot — as, for example, on the Simonside range, and on the moors of North Tyne. My brothers and I, some years ago, walked along this "line of the Border." Starting from the Tweed and con- tinuing along the summit of Cheviot, we followed the boundary south and westward, spending some ten days thereon : putting up by nights at shepherds' houses or wherever we could get shelter— a delightfully wild ramble. Few people, I conceive (even in the north), have the faintest conception of the extent and wild character of this mountain-land which lies betwixt England and Scotland. We observed dunlins, at wide intervals, all along. The marshes of the Solway are of great extent, dead- flat salt-grasses, barely above tide-levels and intersected by salt-water creeks and channels — a striking change from the haunts of the dunlin on the Northumbrian highlands. Here, in May, my brother Alfred and I found many nests of both that species and of the redshank — more than you would see in years on the moors — but the latter are not easy to detect. The redshank here, as elsewhere, hollows out some strong tuft of bents, leaving the tops entwined — thus completely hiding the eggs from view. Casual search thus avails nothing. It is necessary that MAY ON THE MOORS 79 the eye should instantly detect the bird as she springs, perhaps ioo yards away, and that amidst scores of wheeling peewits, etc. After that, one must still mark the precise spot, though there be not a feature or an object that will serve as a guide. The dunlins here make a slight nest, like a sky- lark's, among short salt-grass or sea-thrift, without much, or any, concealment. But as the bird has often crept away many yards before being perceived, one is still liable to be disappointed, if counting on immediate success. We enjoyed seeing on these marshes the most perfect mirage we ever witnessed. Before us, at a mile's distance, stood a country-house, embedded in trees, a green lawn sloping down to a lake- — but well we knew that not a house or a tree existed, in that direction, within ioo miles. It was all open marsh, with the sea beyond. I have seen curious mi rage- effects in the marismas of Spain ; and once, in the Arctic seas, sighted surf-beaten rocks which had no place on the chart. Two Norsk sealing-sloops, which were in sight, were reproduced, inverted, immediately above the actual vessels. In all these other cases, there had been something of distortion or extravagance. Here, in this Solway mirage, every feature was natural and defined. I have thus traced the breeding area of the dunlin from the heights of Cheviot, at 2700 feet, down to sea- level on the marshes of the Solway — a singularly wide vertical range within so short a distance. But the geo- graphical distribution of several species of this class affords contrasts even more remarkable. Thus in the extreme south of Spain, both peewit and redshank remain to breed in the blazing heat of Andalusia ; once, 80 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS also, I found the dunlin breeding there ; though that is exceptional. On the other hand, in Northern Europe, the redshank nests right up to Finmark (my brother found its eggs in 70° N. lat.), and both these species are included by Wheelwright {Ornithology of Lapland, Anglers' Companions— Sandpipers. p. 5) among the birds which breed within the "region of perpetual snow." Creatures of such diversified tastes are, clearly, at home anywhere. May 1 5.' — Grouse are now hatching-out in all directions ; this is their regular average date, and greyhens are now MAY ON THE MOORS 81 sitting-. This is also the date when the sandpipers lay. Whether it be because I love them — and they recipro- cate the sentiment — at any rate these charming" little summer-songsters have come to live right beside me, actually in my garden — or rather among- the bushes and shrubs that surround it. In the spring- of 1905, there were four nests, the nearest close under my window : and all quite 100 yards from the river-side. These four nests were placed in little hollows on a rough bankside, one beneath a tiny spruce, another overhung- by fern. One was prettily situate in the midst of a clump of prim- roses, the fourth almost openly among- dead grasses, though within a yard of a footpath. Usually the sandpipers' nests are on the broken grassy banks of burns — sometimes right in the angler's path, and the old bird flutters out across the shingle with well- feigned lameness. A favourite site is among the low vegetation, such as ramps and dog's-mercury, that grows beneath waterside alders ; in beds of osier-saplings, or among dead leaves, coltsfoot, and wild hyacinths on some mossy tree-clad slope. Many nests are on drifted beds of shingle and sand, overgrown with low brush- wood. Pied Flycatcher. — The status of this little warbler has altered in the north during the last twenty years. From being a scarce "come-by-chance," it must now be accounted a regular spring-migrant. Not, it is true, in any great numbers — merely a few pairs scattered along each main river-valley, with its sequestered sub- sidiary glens — nor always easy to detect amidst the gnarley grey birches which, in such spots, form their favourite resorts. The first ever noticed at home was on May 7th, 1885; and we subsequently perfected their 82 BIRD-LIFE OF THE UORDERS acquaintance in Norway. In that land, tourists who have an eye for such things, may see the pied flycatcher even in the park at Berg-en and in the open woods along every Norsk river up to the Arctic circle. There it nests, early in June, in deep holes in living trees, often close by human dwellings: last spring (1905), one pair nested in the roof of our cottage at Etne, another in an ash within 10 yards. Here, the pied flycatcher occasion- ally selects a crevice in an old stone wall or dyke, though usually preferring trees (always near water), and builds its nest of white dry grass, with dead leaves for a foundation, at the end of May, laying six or seven pale blue eggs early in June. The song of the male, my brother Alfred wrote, "reminds me of that of a hedge- sparrow, but more mellow. At other times it resembles the notes o( whitethroat and reed-bunting." The female, when alarmed near her nest, utters a hissing note very like that of its congener, M. grisola. This year (1906), there are two pairs nesting at Houxty- — both in silver-birches ; and four pairs in Chip- chase woods. In that locality, Miss Taylor tells me the nests are invariably in holes in trees, mostly ash and elm, and at heights varying from 7 feet from the ground up to quite 20 feet. There, many nests are close by the house, or near frequented footpaths, and not in the sequestered burnsides above described. Grasshopper-Warbler. — This is another scarce and local migrant to the Borders ; but one of its characteristics (in my experience) is its sudden appearance in a spot where it had never before been known ; and then, after that one summer, never to return thither again. The first we ever saw — or rather heard — was at Silksworth, county Durham, on April 22nd, 1882. One never forgets one's MAY ON THE MOORS 83 first meeting" with a new species ; and least of all with this, whose extraordinary song" is totally dissimilar from that of any other bird in Europe — a resonant rattling flow of sibilant sound resembling rather the voice of a reptile or an insect — most of all, of a grasshopper, but we had no grasshoppers there. That song could never have escaped our attention had it ever been sung there before. On May 15th we found its nest with four eggs, and subsequently observed other pairs in that neighbourhood ; but never again, except in that one year (1882), either before or since. Again at Houxty, in 1904, a grasshopper- warbler rejoiced my ear by starting his sibilations on May 10th. On the 27th, accompanied by Mr Howard Saunders and Mr F. C. Selous, we found its nest with two eggs in a young plantation. It was built in a low bush, about a foot from the ground, and completely covered above with long dead grasses. This bird never laid more than the two eggs first found, and although un- molested, did not return the following spring nor in 1906. 'Tis always adieu, not au revoir, with this tantalising species. On Ilderton moor, Cheviot, where we had the shooting in 1893, we found grasshopper-warblers in May, nesting among long heather far out on the open moor, miles from tree or bush. Subsequently, I have observed them above Alwinton in Coquetdale, and at various points, both in the lowlands and on the heathery hills of Cheviot. The song of the grasshopper-warbler, though unmis- takable, is hard to describe. There is a lack of all "lilt" in it — an endless running monotone, unsatisfying, like the course of the shameless rolling stone, so exquisitely 84 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS reproduced in that hexameter of dactyls lacking the caesura : — 'OpOis eireira ireoovOe kvXivScto Acta? aviSt]$. May 17. — Jays clearly possess a conscience, and the memory of their crimes sits heavily thereon. They have been noisy enough all the spring"; but now, one never hears a squeak, and might conclude they had gone away. Not so ; they have merely retired into the deep wood to nest, and have become as "mum as mutes." Their deep instinctive cunning teaches them the value of silence. Jays are scarce birds now, through the per- secution of gamekeepers ; but there remain a few in the woods at Hesleyside, and one pair nests in Houxty wood. May 20. — Wheatears are now laying on the high moors. One nest, in an old stone-dyke, has four eggs ; others are built in deep holes or cracks in the peat, or beneath the grey boulders that lie strewn on the moors. Lower down, the tree-pipits had eggs a week or more ago ; so also had the redstarts, whitethroats, and willow-wrens. Now the earlier whinchats are laying ; but the bulk of the summer-warblers do not commence till a week, or ten days later, to wit : Wood-wren, chiff- chaff, garden- and sedge-warblers, blackcap, and pied and spotted flycatchers. For this latter group, the first week in June may be regarded as the average date for completed clutches. Two notes may here be appropriately interjected. The first, illustrative of the enormous distances these tiny creatures have traversed within the few preceding weeks : the following British species are included in his lists of the avifauna of British East Africa (lying MAY ON THE MOORS 85 right under the equator, and distant 5500 miles), com- piled by Mr F. J. Jackson, C. B., whose acquaintance I have recently had the pleasure of making at Nairobi {Ibis, 1899, p. 5S7 ; 1 901, p. zz) ■— Tree-Pipit, Mount Elgon (8000 feet) . observed Feb. 14 Willow-Wren, Machakos . . „ Mar. 20 Sedge- Warbler, Ukamba . . „ Jan. 7 Marsh-Warbler „ „ „ 5 Wheatear, Athi Plains . . . „ „ 21 Grey Wagtail, Mau „ Sept. 30 Since writing" the above, I have myself met with several of the above in East Equatorial Africa, especially the wheatear and tree-pipit, grey and (I think) yellow wagtails, as well as our common swallow in thousands. This was in January, February, and March. The whinchat also has lately been found beyond the equator, namely, in Uganda, on the Ruwenzori range (together with tree-pipit and willow- wren), by my friend, Mr Geoffrey F. Archer. This was on March 14th {Ibis, 1906, p. 545)-1 Still further away, in the Transvaal, at Irene, near Johannesburg (distant over 7000 miles), two of the above species are recorded as occurring at Christmas, to wit : the tree-pipit and sedge-warbler.' — {Bulletin British Ornithologists Club, cxviii.) These scientifically-recorded facts, quoted above, afford food for reflection ; and so also, following in precisely the same trend, may the second note. In 1905, at Houxty, in the same hollow birch, a pair of redstarts nested for the fourth consecutive year. Apparently these in- dividual redstarts had four times succeeded in flying to 1 Archer was my companion when, on Lake Baringo, we were twice charged, and all but caught, by a lone bull elephant. — August 22nd, 1904. 86 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS Africa and back (eight transits in all — -say 30,000 miles). This would be a marvellous record for a bird of such insignificant wing-power. We know little or nothing, as yet, of migration ; but the inference is that its dangers must be much less than are apparent. This spring (1906), a pair of spotted flycatchers are also occupying the same site in which they nested in 1903 — their fourth consecutive season. May 21 (1887V — After several days of bitter northerly gales, the hills this morning lay pure white with snow — only a month from midsummer day ! Yet even this Arctic record was surpassed in 1903, when at midsummer itself — from June 19th to 21st— we had severe frosts on three consecutive nights, following on N. and N.-E. gales. Ferns and bracken were blighted, so also the young shoots of spruce (but not Scotch fir), and indeed much of the delicate young frondage now just at its birth. By mid- July, I noticed that a new growth of bracken, springing away from the roots, was replacing that de- stroyed at midsummer. Such is the power of Nature's recuperation. As a coincidence, it may be recorded that on the same date in the present year, we had a similar snow- storm. I quote the following from the Daily Telegraph of May 21st, 1906. "In the extreme north of England, the weather is . . . intensely cold. In some parts of Northumberland, snow is lying to a depth of 18 inches. The white-capped hills present an extraordinary contrast with the verdure and blossom of the valleys." May 24. — The first young grouse seen on the wing. Though barely ten days old, and no bigger than sparrows, yet with the wind under their tiny pinions, and the fall of the hill, one or two went quite 200 yards. MAY ON THE MOORS 87 The rapid development of flight-power in grouse — and in all the game-birds — is noteworthy, being quite unique in the bird-world. No other birds fly till full-grown, and till they have acquired full flight-feathers, by growth, in the normal course. But Nature has designed a different process with the game-birds. These, no sooner than they are excluded from the egg, are supplied with a set of tiny primaries sufficient, within a few days, to lift them in air. As the chick grows heavier, and needs more power, one little primary on either side drops out and is replaced by another, slightly longer, till all are renewed. As each new set becomes insufficient, a new growth (always in corre- sponding pairs, one in either wing) is ever ready to replace it, proportioned to the increasing weight of the youngster. This succession of new quills (which, in grouse, are spotted with yellow) continues till the period (about August) when the final moult, both of quills and tail, in old and young alike, takes place.1 At the autumnal moult, but not before, the game-birds range into line with the rest of the feathered world. All birds alike have (by October) acquired their new plumage and new quills, which have to serve them for a whole twelvemonth. There are neither tailors nor dress- makers in their circle ; though Nature has certainly provided for certain repairs and renewals when vitally necessary. Otherwise, the plumage acquired by every bird in autumn must serve it for a year. May 31. — The young peewits are already beginning to fly in flocks. Thus we can see, even as early as May, the first incipient symptom of autumnal conditions. 1 See Charles Murray Adamson's Some more Scraps about Birds, p. 7 et seq. (J. Bell & Co., Newcastle-on-Tyne, 1880-81). CHAPTER VII SUMMER ON THE MOORS June June is the leafy month elsewhere ; and even on the moor- land, where there are no trees, there is an equivalent for the absence of foliage in the intense greenery of the highland vegetation. Even heather is now green, as is the bent, and with fern and fell-grasses, sedges and sphagnum, the whole blend into one living green carpet of varied and vivid tones. The moorland landscape, at this period, is all green — there is no contrast of colours such as it afforded in autumn, when not only does heather-bloom empurple the hills, but a wave of changing hues — russet, gold, and tawny red- — adorns each bracken-clad height, and lends a blaze of colour to every moss and flowe. Mosses and flowes, I should perhaps explain, are those flat expanses filling the floor of some shallow basin among the hills. At a casual glance, either might be mistaken for a snipe-bog ; but they are not bogs, nor specially beloved of snipe. A "moss" is entirely composed of the green spongy sphagnum, with some slight growth of moor-grass and sedge — no place for snipe. Though equally level, the "flowes" are far more varied in character, being composed of miry peat with infinite tussocks, whereon survives a stunted heather- growth, and where bog-grasses, blaeberry-ling, creeping SUMMER ON THE MOORS 89 heath, and cotton-grass flourish. In such spots are often interspersed oozy peat-hags, some of which may develop into pools of peat-black water, large enough, it may be, to attain the title of "lough." Very welcome nevertheless, and despite its lack of contrasting hues, is this vivid, new-born verdancy of June — a charming change from those dull and lifeless colours which have characterised the highlands during all the period we call spring. Lower down on the hillsides, the golden bloom of gorse is at its best by June, to be followed a little later by broom and hawthorn. The ash-trees, always a fort- night behind, are barely in full leafage till the middle of the month ; the rest are already perfect' — the spruce especially beautiful, with its thousand golden tips to each dark-green frond, as though from a storm of golden snow. Pochard. — Towards the end of May, we had ob- served— always a living joy to a naturalist — a species of bird new to us. On a small hill-loch on the Scottish side (Primside loch, near Yetholm, in Roxburghshire) were a number of ducks, some of which the binocular showed to be pochard. It is noteworthy that, before that day (1887), during near twenty years' wildfowling, afloat and ashore, I had never met with this species in the north. Presently, my brothers and I crept within 50 yards of four (three drakes) resting on a low fore- shore backed by tall flags, the whole reflected in the still water beneath — a pretty picture. There were quite a dozen pochards on the loch (mostly drakes) and an even larger number of tufted ducks. Ten days later, in June, the pochard-drakes alone were visible, circling high overhead with their charac- teristic croaking note. Their mates, with those of the 90 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS tufts, were then engaged in incubation on a floating islet of matted bog-plants, and in the "moss" that lies to the west of the loch — both spots too soft and dangerous to traverse. But, towards evening, this fact was estab- lished by the females of both species appearing, for a brief spell, to feed on the open water outside. My brother Alfred subsequently visited this loch alone, his later experience entirely corroborating the above, as to the nesting of pochard and tufted duck thereon. His notes, moreover, contain a further remark- able accession — namely, that he had satisfied himself that there was local evidence — good, so far as such may ever be accepted — that ivigeon also nested there ; though he had failed to verify the fact for himself. Accordingly, during the present spring, the author twice returned to Roxburghshire to investigate this point — as wigeon, it should be stated, have not, within my knowledge, been proved to nest south of Sutherland. Yetholm loch, in 1906, proved a disappointment. Tufted ducks were there, nesting ; but not a sign either of pochard or of wigeon. The pochards had, I at once concluded, been banished thence by the introduction of that abomination to wildfowl — the tame swan. The latter had actually destroyed the floating islet aforesaid, tearing up huge aquatic roots, 10 or 12 feet in length, which were subsequently swept down the Bowmont in winter floods. Primside failed, but I presently discovered the refuge of the banished pochards. They had retired to Hoselaw loch, where not less than twenty or thirty pairs (together with an equal number of tufts, and some shovelers) were then breeding. Hoselaw, together with Whitrigg bog near St Boswells, and Hule moss on Greenlaw mmmh SUMMER ON THE MOORS 91 moor, towards the southern verge of the Lammermuirs, are now the only lochs on the Borders on which, within my knowledge, the pochard nests. Paston lough on Cheviot, and Whitton loch on the hills west of Morebattle in Roxburghshire, were also tried, but never a sign of wigeon rewarded our search. At Whitton a pair or two of tufted ducks were nesting", with a fine show of mallards, and some teal. At Paston the tufted ducks were quite a feature. There were at least fifty drakes on the sheltered waters of this lovely, wood-embowered lake; and on June 23rd, we observed three broods following their mothers. There were only three, four, and five young, respectively- — meagre numbers explained, it is probable, by the voracious pike beneath. The only other ducks on this lough, were mallards and a single pair of shovelers. The search for wigeon thus proved, so far, barren of positive results. It is fair to add that, on various occasions, ducks went away wild, without affording opportunity for identification. These may, or may not, have been wigeon. On the other hand, my friend John Graham of Yetholm Law, for many years gamekeeper to the late General Wauchope, of heroic memory, gives me, as he gave my brother before, the following positive state- ment :■ — •" Wigeon have nested on Yetholm loch, many times within my recollection. Twenty years ago, or thereby, we shot one duck off her nest (which was in the moss, 200 yards west of the loch), and sent her, with one of the eggs, to the late Mr Andrew Hogg, in Edin- burgh, in proof of the fact. Since then, wigeon have nested several times ; I have seen the broods following the old duck in June and July, and have shot the flappers 92 WKD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS in August." There, for the present, the record must remain. Verdict: "Not proven." It must ever be borne in mind, when endeavouring to identify ducks afloat, that several of the diving- species (such as tufts, pochards, scaup, and others) require two, three, or even four years to attain complete maturity of plumage ; and that these intermediate phases are also present, on the water, along- with the breeding- adults. This gradation in plumage may lead to their being- mis- taken for different species. Tufted ducks have, within the last twenty years, begun to nest at nearly every suitable loch, or large sheet of water, on either side the Border. Besides the places mentioned, they were breeding- at Hule moss and on Duns Castle lake in Berwickshire, where in July we saw young broods on the water ; while in Northumberland, they may be seen all summer at Hallington and Colt- crag, Capheaton, Hallypikes, and the other loughs in that neighbourhood. Both pochards and tufted ducks begin laying about May 15th, and young appear on the water, June 20th. Tufted and all diving-ducks necessarily nest close by the water's edge, their pedestrian powers being so feeble ; yet the nest is often situated at quite a considerable distance from the main lough up some open ditch or marsh-drain, that affords access by water. The nest is always deeply hidden away, under long bog-grass and sedge, or a saugh- bush ; and the eggs covered over with down. They may perhaps be distinguished from those of pochard by a faint greenish wash — those of the latter having more of a buff tinge. I have not, however, found these myself. Wholly delightful, despite any slight disappointment with the absent wigeon, were the days spent by these SUMMER ON THE MOORS 93 Border lochs. Paston, lying in a cleft of bracken-clad hills, sheltered and entirely surrounded by woods (pine and hardwood), is a charming- spot to a bird-lover. Its winding gulfs and bays, fringed far out with aquatic plants, sedge, and bulrush, form ideal homes for water- fowl with which its surface was dotted. Besides mallards and tufted ducks, were herons, coots, and waterhens ; while innumerable cushats everywhere caught one's eye. On approaching, we detected a pair of shovelers sheltering from boisterous waves in a reed-fringed inlet. By aid of the wind, we crept in near enough to distinguish, not only the yellow eye of the drake, but also the fact that already (at the end of June) he was losing his full glory of feather; brown "half-moons" impairing the snowy purity of his breast, while the full burnished gloss of the head was waning. But a more interesting incident followed. In a creek beyond, hard by the outer edge of floating lilies, swam and dived three birds that, for a time, completely puzzled me. One was a coot ; but its two companions were grebes, none of which (save the dabchick) breed here. But that fact dwindled into insignificance by comparison with the state of plumage of these two particular grebes, for they can best be described as exact counterparts, both in size and plumage, of the Slavonian grebes {Podiciftes auritus) that I have so often shot on the coast in winter. To-day, however, it was not winter, but midsummer! Behind a screen of trees and sedge, I crept within 20 yards of the trio, and watched them for an hour, in mingled interest, doubt, and perplexity. The entire upper parts (crown, back of neck, and body) of both grebes were plain dusky-black ; but the cheeks, throat, 94 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS and front of the long" slim neck and breast were brilliantly white — slightly less pronounced in one than the other. There was no sign of nuptial dress — no gorgeous tippets, auricles, or any touch whatever of those bright colours that, in summer, adorn all the grebes — save only a little yellow on the beak. The grebes were on terms of close friendship with their clumsier companion, the coot- — the contrast was striking as the smarter birds sailed swiftly about, their slim snake-like necks held stiff and erect as a pole-mast. To solve this problem, I returned to Paston a few days later, taking Graham with me. This time, only one grebe was in sight — apparently the male — and both of us were satisfied that no mistake had been made. The scene is perpetuated in the beautiful drawing opposite, for which grateful thanks are due to my friend, Mr Charles Whymper. Such are the facts, and I leave the record that a pair of Slavonian grebes, in full winter-dress, were fre- quenting Paston lough at midsummer. The probable solution is that grebes do not attain maturity in their first year ; but even so, I can find no previous record of Slavonian grebes in these islands in summer — whether immature or otherwise. Young coots of the earlier broods had now acquired the pure white throat and fore-neck ; their colours, in fact, resembled those of the grebes, though the two differed so widely in form. The younger coots still carried the downy, orange-red head. Whitrigg bog, near St Boswells, is a notable resort of shovelers. This is quite an extensive morass, a mile or more of deep ooze, untraversable. Excepting a few patches of open water along the centre, this bog in o o SUMMER ON THE MOORS 95 summer is entirely overgrown with sedge, rush, and aquatic plants, with tufts here and there of yellow iris — an ideal home for shovelers, as well as for crakes, rails, and even bittern, if one survive. Besides shovelers and numerous mallards and teal, there were also nesting here, in 1906, some eight or ten pairs of pochards. Whitrigg also possesses one of the most extensive colonies of black-headed gulls, or "pickiemaws" as they are called in Scotland. In July, every nook and corner of mud and ooze, each creek and inlet, was crowded with young gulls in all stages from tawny down-clad to strong fliers ; and amidst the mob, swam (at thrice their speed) broods of the various ducks aforesaid, while the air above was rent with vociferations. Black-headed gulls are even more numerous on the Scottish side than in Northumberland, nesting both on moor and merse. Indeed, all along the lovely vale of Tweed, they become quasi-domestic ; hawking for moths in the cottagers' gardens in every hamlet around "fair Melrose," St Boswells, Dryburgh, and all that storied land. On Greenlaw moor, south of the Lammermuirs, are two wild sheets of water known as Hule moss, where various ducks also nest. On the larger loch (near 20 acres), there were, among others, three or four pairs of pochards ; while the smaller and more rush-grown loch, attracts shovelers. Here, on July 10th (1906), we counted nineteen mallard ducks, with never a drake nor a brood among them all. These, together with many grouse and other moor birds, had lost their broods during the disastrous floods and snowstorms of the preceding May. The drakes (in eclipse) kept separate. There is an obvious difficulty in dealing with the duck- 96 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS tribe during the nesting time. Their inland haunts being- restricted to such narrow limits, since the total area of inland waters can only reach a few thousand acres, and these being- often private and preserved property, one cannot frequent such spots with the absolute freedom necessary for definite investigation. True, one can take stock of all the fowl on a loch by walking round it with binoculars ; but to ascertain precisely the local status of wildfowl, necessitates much closer and more prolonged attention. There have been small loughs and moss-pools on many of the shootings that we have happened to hold, and these were always interesting as affording summer-homes to various waterfowj. But of the duck-tribe, the only species that ever nested with us were the common mallard and the teal ; though we had golden-eyes lingering until May, and tufted ducks, wigeon, and others arriving as early as September. The following summer-notes on other species have, therefore, been based on mere casual observation without that full opportunity for close investi- gation that is desirable. Gadwall. — This is one of the species that might conceivably nest here ; 1 but the only two observations here recorded rather point the other way : — Afarc/i 26. — Six gadwall, with a pair of shovelers, on Boldon Flats, county Durham. Next day the shovelers had gone, and only four gadwall remained. By April 2nd, they also had disappeared. March 27. — Four gadwall, together with many mallard and wigeon, and quite 100 teal, on Grindon lough. A fortnight later, both gadwall and the rest had gone ; but a pair of shovelers had appeared, with apparent intention 1 It does so in Norfolk ; and I have also found its nest in Spain. SUMMER ON THE MOORS 97 of nesting- here. These clucks love sedgy rush-grown waters, and Grindon lough is an ideal home for them, since in summer it is almost choked with rank aquatic vegetation. On both these occasions we enjoyed opportunity to identify the birds, as they circled around, with their distinctive croaking- quack. There are three other entries of gadwall in my notes (two in Northumber- land, one in Roxburghshire), but lacking sufficiently clear evidence to justify insertion here. During the present summer, a pair of gadwalls are reported to have nested in Peebleshfre, near Broughton, and to have reared their brood {Field, July 28th, 1906). Shoveler. — Besides the above occurrences, noted incidentally with the gadwalls, I have two or three similar records — all about end of March. The shoveler nests in limited numbers on both sides of the Border, but especially on the Scottish side, owing to suitable lochs being there more frequent. Besides the localities named, it also breeds every year on Holy Island, where there is a small reed-clad lough. The actual nest, how- ever, is usually placed in growing hay-grass, at some little distance from the water. I fear the eggs (laid by the end of April) are taken every year by the islanders. Shovelers, wherever they are found breeding, are strictly summer-migrants ; arriving in March, and never seen after October. As a rule, as soon as the young- can fly, shovelers leave this country — say, by August. Those that are said to occur in winter (at which season the author has not once met with this species) must come from further north. Pintail. — This species must not be entirely omitted ; for, though I have no note of it inland, yet it has G 98 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS occurred on the coast every autumn since 1889. We found it breeding abundantly in Jutland (exactly opposite our shores), and its being- found to do so on the Borders is probably only a question of time. The following are the dates at which the under- mentioned summer-warblers fledged (by which I mean that the young left the nest) in my garden at Houxty. In each case, the eggs had been laid, almost to a day, on the corresponding dates in May — showing that exactly one month elapses from laying to fledging : — Redstart fledged June 13 Willow-Wren 15 Whitethroat . 18 Tree-Pipit 18 Whinchat 21 Garden-Warbler 26 Blackcap 28 Wood-Wren . 29 The dates recorded are average ones, and are not given as exceptionally early ; indeed I have seen both young willow-wrens and whitethroats out a fortnight before the dates above stated, but that was unusual. To the occurrences of what are called "rare birds" little importance need be attached. Broadly speaking, there is no such thing as a rare bird, save in a relative sense. Go to its proper home — perhaps only a few hundred miles away — and what has appeared a rarity will be found as abundant as Nature's balance of life will permit. All creatures seek out those zones of land or sea which best fulfil their requirements. When one of them wanders, by chance or stress, a degree or two beyond its normal limits, it is described as a vara avis; and sentimentalists bewail the death of a straggler as though, had it survived, the whole species would have SUMMER ON THE MOORS 99 extended its bounds, or altered its natural home. Per- sonally, I would never harm the wanderer myself or give it other than a kindly reception ; but it is illogical to assume that its life or death makes the slightest difference to Nature's plan. A bird far removed from its natural sphere is destined to come to an untimely end ; but even assuming that it survived the hazardous adventure, it would be most unlikely to repeat it. The only intrinsic value to ornithologists, in such stray occurrences, is the evidence they may afford of the maximum geographical range of the species involved even though it be (as such usually are) a merely accidental variation. Thus on July 24th, 1871, we happened to meet with an Alpine Swift {Cypselus melba), full 500 miles out of his proper latitude, slowly hawking along the Durham coast, near Souter Point. Not a score of these large swifts have ever been obtained in Great Britain ; yet, in Southern Spain, I have seen them in hundreds, and at Gibraltar have watched their dashing flight till one almost turns dizzy as they hurl themselves over the 1400- feet precipice that fronts the Mediterranean. Again, such stray occurrences of unusual birds may pass unrecorded hundreds of times, unless they happen to come under the observation of some ornithologist who recognises them. Thus, on June nth a Lesser Whitethroat (a scarce species in the north) came into our garden at Moorhouse, Leamside. My brother Alfred instantly recognised by its note that it was a strange bird to him. Unfortunately, it was impossible, in the thick foliage, to identify its species without shooting it. A fortnight afterwards, we identified the bird in South Norway, solely through having learned its song on the above occasion. Similarly, on June 21st, 1889, 100 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS an Icterine Warbler {Hifipolais icterind) appeared in the garden of my old friend, the late Mr C. M. Adamson, at North Jesmond— probably the only spot in all North- umberland where its note would have been recognised ! It was shot, for complete identification, and most nearly resembled a wood-wren {S. sibilatrix), but for its larger size ; legs slaty blue, beak brown. This is, I believe, the only record of the species in the north of England. In 1877, on June 15th, I observed, near Elsdon, several clouded yellows (Co/ias edusct), and caught one — curiously, a hybernated example. This is a butterfly I have never seen in the north of England before or since, and have no doubt that these were immigrants from over-sea. Another rare insect, only once seen, is the comma {Grafita C. album) — Silksworth, September 23rd, 1874. Of the aristocracy of the insect- world, the emperor moth {Saturnia pavonia minor) is characteristic of the moor- land, and its conspicuous green- and red-spotted cater- pillar may often be seen among the heather in the earlier part of the shooting season. This is also the date (mid-June) when the whinchat commences that note, " U-tic, tic, tic," indicative of young being hatched ; and which continues, with mono- tonous iteration, till towards the end of July. I specially name this, since a similar remark would apply to nearly all the small summer-birds ; but the whinchat is the most conspicuous and its note the most easily recognised. June 20 (1906). — The lowland woods swarm with newly-fledged broods of wrens, ruddier, but no less perky than their parents. This is an exceptionally late date, since the wren nests early, and in other years the young are abroad a fortnight before this. June 22. — Found a nest of the twite (Linota flavi- SUMMER ON THE MOORS 101 rostris) among" the heather on Lanshot Hill, Elsdon. There were two egg's and two small young. It is puzzling to see the whitish eggs of a linnet where one only expects the sombre product of a titlark. We found another twite's nest, largely composed of sheep's wool, with nearly- fledged young (fawn-coloured, and noticeably paler below than the adults) on Elsdon Hillhead, July 30th. The twite is typical of the moorland ; but is nowhere abundant, and easily overlooked. Indeed, there is no nest more difficult to find. The linnet-like song, however, is a sufficient index to a well-attuned ear, and almost the only means of locating the few breeding pairs, widely scattered over the moors. We had previously, as before-men- tioned, found a nest, with five eggs, on Monkridge, May 21st; another, under a tuft of bell-heather, on Hartside, Cheviot, on May 29th. The twite also nests on Warks- fell, above Houxty. The lesser redpoll is a some- what similar bird, but breeds at lower elevations — among the alder woods, and in. thick osier-beds along the burns. We have found eggs as early as May, and again at the end of June ; so that this species (as well as the twite) probably breeds twice. These nests are beautifully lined with catkins and thistle-down, and one contained a feather of a kestrel. The corn-bunting {Emberiza miliaria) is not a' bird of the moorland — alpine or subalpine — but one or two pairs come every summer to a particular spot (close to Wark church), and never another in the district. They nest there in growing hay, and drone forth their monoton- ous dirge with almost irritating persistency. The young ring-ouzels are full-feathered by mid- summer; yet on June 17th another nest contained five newly-laid eggs. 102 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS Mallard-drakes lose their glossy green heads and pearly backs towards the end of June, preparatory to undergoing that "eclipse" that is peculiar to their genus. They now seek the shelter of the thickest reed-beds and rank marsh-vegetation ; for in July, having completely moulted their quills, they become incapable of flight. The normal plumage is not fully recovered before mid- October. June 21. — A redshank on the river-side — a sign they are quitting their breeding-places and preparing to move. June 24.' — A single whimbrel on Cheviot. I have many notes of them (inland) in May, and again at end of July ; but the above seems a " belated " date — probably an immature bird, which do not breed. During the long summer nights, the black-headed gulls hawk after moths all the evening and even after it is quite dusk, hovering over newly-mown hay-fields and darting amidst trees, like nightjars after their prey. CHAPTER VIII SUMMER ON THE MOORS— {concluded) July Early this month, the young- curlews, plovers, and other moor-bred wild birds, are already on the wing-, gaining- strength and wildness daily, and congregating into packs preparatory to their impending departure. On the lower levels, by July, bird-song has been superseded by an infinity of low call-notes — some harsh and scolding, others soft and sibilant. These are the communications — the secret signals — from anxious parents to callow young, with the corresponding re- sponses. None but the most highly-trained ear can hope to interpret these semi-articulate signs and sounds, their authors lurking- unseen amidst the dense foliage and lush herbage of July. By the end of this month and during early August, a striking silence reigns. Parental cares have then ceased. The young are now on wing, launched upon life, inde- pendent ; while the old are commencing to moult. The young of all birds at this stage possess a plumage more perfect and regular than at any subsequent period of their lives. For these first feathers have all grown simultaneously ; hence all are equal in size and develop- ment— a condition which does not obtain in moulting. As 103 104 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS adults, they may acquire bolder and more striking colora- tion, but never again the perfectly even regularity of their first dress. During the early part of July, starlings congregate in enormous numbers — perfect clouds^ — on the open moors, and (with bands of rooks) remain there, feeding on cater- pillars and ripening seeds, for ten days or a fortnight. But before the end of the month, every starling has disappeared. July 8. — On Peel-fell, 2000 feet. The summit, a deso- late plateau, half in England, half Scotland, is a regular bed of cloudberries, the fruit, at this date, in its red-ripe stage. It also grows on Deadwater-fell adjoining, and the kindly shepherdess who gave me a cup of tea, said that, in good seasons, they would gather for preserving 8 or 10 quarts of "noops." The growth of blaeberry-ling on Peel-fell is very beautiful — in parts almost supplanting the heather. Cranberries also grow there. Young curlews were flying in packs of twenty-five to fifty, and peewits in hundreds. The young black-headed gulls were first seen flying about the river and lower grounds on July 10th. Many of the old gulls are now losing- the black hood. On the same date young blackgame were first seen on wing ; and four days later, my dogs sprang a brood of young wild-ducks, which could then fly a short distance. Any little 6-inch "spate" will now serve to bring up bull-trout from the sea. The smaller came first ; so strong, indeed, is the migratory impulse in these, that fish up to 2 lbs. or thereby will manage to wriggle up by night, even in waters of summer-level. Throughout July, waters permitting, the bull-trout fishing is a feature of the season. Evening is the time for this, and a 12-foot rod, with the smallest grilse-flies. SUMMER ON THE MOORS 105 Very delicious is the close of those long- summer days by the river-side, when a lingering twilight slowly fades, yet hardly disappears ; while waning- colours softly change on the moss-brown streams till detail is lost, and one is only conscious of the murmur of those swirling waters. The line one can no longer see, and only judges the position of the gently-working lures by a sort of instinct. That heavy sullen plunge away below in those still darkly deeps, is a salmon. But him you may disregard ; for he has been in that pool, a prisoner, this three weeks past, and will now scarcely look at fly — not until after another flood, and then only when, he has travelled a mile or two further up-stream. Presently comes a different plunge — or rather a rush, smart and active, tearing the surface, and one sees the water fly like a flash of flame. That is a 4-lb. bull- trout, fresh from sea yesterday, and bright as a bar of silver ; a turn of the wrist, and the " dark-teal-and-purple " is well home in his jaws. Then, varied and vivid are the sensations aroused in the gloaming, as this dashing fish runs off line at 20 miles an hour — you cannot see whither — turns and twists in the dark ; jumps where you least expected, slacks the line in spite of all you can do, and for three long minutes keeps the angler on full stretch and in delicious nerve-trying doubt. Those three minutes — given firm handling — will have turned the scale in the angler's favour. But there may yet be other three ere suspense and anxieties — pleasant, albeit prolonged — are ended, and the cleek, by aid of starlight, shall have decided the fortunes of the night. On such evenings you may linger till past ten o'clock, and dine towards midnight. However late it may be, into the kettle with your 106 WRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS fish — presuming- you have got him — that same night. Leave second-day salmon to city-dwellers and other unfortunates who know nothing better. On one such summer's evening at Blindburn, Capt. A. G. Allgood hooked a bat on the dropper, while run- ning a bull-trout on the tail-fly. A droughty July means, of course, nothing less than the loss of all these joys. A few persistent " bullies" will force their way up, dry-back, through rapids and shallows ; yet angling is impossible by reason of the slimy green waterweed {Conferva rivularis) that clogs the flies and cumbers every knot on the cast. A rainless July is the angler's purgatory — worst month of all. Here is an example : From June 29th (when, on a slight spate, I got a salmon of 17-V lbs.) never another drop of rain fell for five weeks ; nor is there in the fishing-book, all through July, a single entry of sea-fish — not until August 5th, when, after a thre^days' flood, the score reopens with a grilse of si lbs., three bull-trout of 3-} lbs., 3 lbs., and 2 lbs. respectively, besides sundry dace that took large flies in the darkening. The same flood brought up several salmon, but not from sea ; those seen were all tinged with red, indicating that they had been some time in fresh water. But should July bring rain, and with it the bull-trouts, the opportunity should not be neglected. The following suggestions, having been revised for me by two of the most successful anglers on North Tyne, may then prove useful : — Do not disturb the water till the sun is well off it, and never before 6 p.m. Provide beforehand, soaked and ready for instant use, three casts of graded sizes, so as to be able quickly to change the smallest flies for larger as darkness deepens. The third cast SUMMER ON THE MOORS 107 (for night use) should have fairly large flies, and these of lighter colours. The droppers of all should be fixed on short, say two inches. In strong water, cast more directly down-stream than is usual in salmon-fishing- ; work the flies less — hardly at all — and bring- them slowly across the current — rather let them "hang." Reel up at intervals after dusk, to see that all is clear and in order. When a fish comes, strike quite deliberately, and never till you have felt him. A landing-net serves best for fish up to 3 or 4 lbs., but have a gaff at hand, in case of hooking a grilse or a salmon. July 9-10. — During the whole of these two days a migration of young eels, about 5 or 6 inches long, was proceeding up the river, millions strong. An oystercatcher (adult) was shot far up Whickhope burn, North Tyne, early in July, 1905. What this essentially marine species was doing on a mountain-burn, 40 miles from the sea and at such a date, passes under- standing. True, there are freshwater mussels in the Border streams; but never a "native" would he find therein !- — no inference that Ostralegus eats such is conveyed. Waterhens at this season, finding the original nests inadequate to accommodate large and growing broods, construct supplementary nurseries for their use. These they build quite openly, as though by a curious mental failure to appreciate the new advantages of concealment. In April, when nest-building began (there being then little or no covert), their nests were necessarily some- what exposed ; but in July, when the tangle of rush and sedge is at its rankest growth, they ignore it. It may be that they have reasons of their own for the course adopted. 108 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS These birds in April habitually construct two, three, or more nests before finally laying- in the last. It some- times happens that one of these "false nests" comes in useful as a supplementary nursery in July. Waterhens breed twice ; and apparently pair afresh, preparatory to entry en secondes noces — at least the males go through a bout of furious fighting- in the early days of June. July 1 6.- — This evening- at 8 p.m., while sitting by the river-side at Gold-Island stream, waiting" for that "psychological moment," the precise stage of twilight when salmon are most apt to regard a "Jock Scott" in the proper and desired light, my terrier Van made a sudden dash into the thick willows, and out sprang an otter within a few yards. The water here shoals to the shore, and, knowing this, the otter cleared a good io feet, taking a beautiful "header" into the deeper pool beyond. During the same week the hounds hunted this water, and my friend — a dog-otter of 22 lbs. — lost his life One seldom sees otters by day, though webbed foot- prints on the sand betray their presence. Evidence of their handiwork is most frequent in early spring, when they kill a good many salmon-kelts. They often eat a bit out of the back of the neck, and leave the rest of the fish lying on the gravel, or on a rock in mid-stream. July 18. — Watched a kingfisher on the burn take three trout in consecutive plunges, each capture being- carried to a stone in mid-stream. The fourth attempt failed, when he changed his stance, and then caught two more. Shortly afterwards he retired to a crevice among some rocks and went to sleep. A kingfisher's favourite perch is on some dead twig a couple of feet above the water, and always shaded above by an overhanging SUMMER ON THE MOORS 109 branch, the foliage thus concealing his form from the "glegg e'ecl " trout beneath. Kingfishers nest here, but are scarce from two causes. The first is the selfishness of the "man with a gun," who persists in reducing- one of Nature's most lovely ornaments to a miserable, ill-stuffed effigy for his own private delectation. But severe winters are a still more potent agency, since frozen streams and snow-covered burns mean death to the halcyon bird. July 31. — This afternoon at 4 p.m. a sudden thunder- storm with heavy rain drove us to shelter in a pinewood on the hillside. Dense black clouds darkened the heavens, and the owls, mistaking this for night, awakened and began to call. Ten minutes later, two owls appeared outside, actually commencing to hunt! In less than an hour the sun was shining once more, and the owls must have felt rather silly, especially when they found them- selves mobbed by all the small birds within call. The month of July marks in bird-life the conclusion of the summer period, and inaugurates that of autumn. The whole trend and object of the feathered world, all its infinite instincts and aspirations — (a study of some few features of which has occupied the preced- ing chapters) — are now reversed. Birds, in common with the rest of creation, find themselves ever confronted by ceaseless labour. No sooner are the hard conditions of one period fulfilled, than the revolving cycle brings them face to face with a fresh set of duties and labours no less onerous. In spring the birds have gathered from afar — some from the very ends of the earth — at a degree of risk which our present knowledge is insufficient to gauge. On arrival, the survivors at once set about the functions of reproduction. Then, no sooner is the new 110 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS bird-generation fledged, no sooner do the young" realise their newly-gained powers of flight — than we see symptoms of the desire to migrate, these mere fledglings being all but universally permeated by an irresistible impulse to fly afar. The subject is referred to later, in more specific detail. As early as mid- June (and even before) such birds as starlings and peewits are gathering into flocks, pre- paratory to moving; but in July the phenomenon rapidly develops, and the signs of the time then become plentiful and patent enough to those who care to read them. Strange birds appear in unwonted situations. The whistle of curlew or plover is heard amid the un- accustomed environment of waving corn, or among enclosed fields of turnips or potatoes. From a farm- pond in the lowlands, there springs a dunlin, or half-a- dozen sandpipers ; while often, by night, a chorus of mingled bird-notes come down from the dark skies overhead. Far away from moorland, a "blackbird with a white breast" is reported by the gardener among the currant-bushes. This is, of course, a ring-ouzel, and the small bird the cat has caught, proves to be a young wheatear. Poor fellow! He is not yet four weeks old, yet was starting so blithely on a voyage of discovery to the unknown Mediterranean. On the seaside, the terns have broken up their camps and spread themselves all along the coast where sand- eels and "herring-syle" are just now so abundant and tempting. The terns are immediately followed up by their arch-enemy the pirate skua ; and, from day to day, one may expect to see the first stragglers of the incoming waterfowl and wading birds : whimbrels from Shetland, a little string of grey-geese from Sutherland or the SUMMER ON THE MOORS 111 Hebrides, the first godwits, knots, or turnstones — the vanguard of the approaching- hosts from the north, flying- before the Arctic winter. It is unnecessary to recapitulate the sights and signs which show that the bird-world is on the move. Nesting is over once more, the cares of spring and summer are past ; while the universal movement southward to- wards winter-quarters has commenced. It is conspicuous enough in July, attains a greater development in August, and approaches its climax when swallows congregate on the dead trees in September. CHAPTER IX CHEVIOT Midsummer day of 1887, the first jubilee of our beloved Queen Victoria and one of the most delicious that our temperate zone is capable of producing", the author spent in a solitary ramble over Cheviot. Approached from the east, the route towards Cheviot runs for several miles up the Caldg'ate valley — a glen which is certainly by far the prettiest on the volcanic formation, and much more varied and striking" than that of the College-burn, the alternative route by which Cheviot is approached from the north. The walk up Caldgate's glen reveals several miles of lovely moorland scenery, with great naked rocks standing- out abrupt as ruined castles from the steep and rugged inclines. The track, passing" through heather, fern, and shaggy foliage, follows the course of the burn, a splashing torrent, full of troutlets, and fringed with natural wood — oak and birch, alder, saugh, and rowan. The bloom of the hawthorn at midsummer is perfect — each bush bearing" a canopy of spotless white ; the mossy banks and braes glow with the purple of wild thyme and bell-heather, and all are alive with little chestnut-winged butterflies {Ccenonympha fiam- fihilus) ; while the air is resonant with the warble of willow-wren and whinchat, the trill of the sandpiper, and 112 CHEVIOT 113 overhead the croak of the white gulls from Pallins- burn. Man is all but absent : the only specimen seen all day was an aged Scot, with vast bushy beard and a pack on his back, who, when I chanced on him, was lighting- his pipe with a burning glass. He told me he was "jest seeking a wee bit pickle o' 'oo'" (wool), and had walked that morning "fra' Scotch Belford, no that awfu' far" — though it is a dozen miles and more. Poor old soul, he reckoned a pound of wool (worth sixpence), a fair day's *pick, and spent his summer among the hills, gathering stray scraps of wool, and depending on shepherds for chance accommodation. Yet he was not a tramp. That is a different species, and one that is notably abundant on the Borders. A.t the head of the glen lies Langleeford, a lonely farmstead — the last house in England, ensconsed amid sheltering pinewood, that protect it from the snowblasts of winter. To-day, however, the heat is tropical, but for the light breeze that comes redolent of the fragrance of pine and hawthorn, rowan, woodbine, and a score of Nature's exquisite perfumes. It was here, at Langlee- ford, that just a century before (in the autumn of 1791), Sir Walter Scott wrote to his friend, William Clerk in Edinburgh, from "the very centre of the Cheviot hills, in one of the wildest and most romantic situations which your imagination, always fertile, ever suggested. We are amidst places renowned by the feats of former days. Each hill is crowned by a tower, or camp, or cairn ; and nowhere can you be nearer more fields of battle — Flodden, Otterburn, Chevy Chase, Ford, Chil- ling-ham, Copeland Castle, are all within the compass of a forenoon's ride. Out of brooks with which these H 114 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS hills are intersected, we pull trouts of half a yard in length as fast as we did the perches from the ponds at Pennycuik, and we are in the very centre of muir- fowl. My uncle drinks the whey, and so do I- — -ever since I understood it was brought to his bedside every morning- at six, by a very pretty dairymaid. So much simplicity resides amidst these hills that a pen (which could write at least) was not to be found about the house, though belonging to a considerable farmer, till I shot the crow with whose quill I write this epistle." A more degenerate century finds the trout, as a rule, of less noble dimensions — about six to the yard would nowadays be an average measure. Nevertheless, disclaim- ing poetic license, I may here record a basket taken one May afternoon from these same waters. We had gone first to the Glen; but finding that lovely stream in top- flood, from rains beyond the hills — (the sources of the Glen, I must stop to explain, arise on the further side of Cheviot) — we returned by noon to our own water, which had not been so much affected by the rain. During that afternoon, I extracted forty-three trout, weighing just under 14! lbs. Half were caught, in a biggish water, on fly: the rest with worm, when (at 4 p.m.) the water began to fine down. The creel was already full, and so were the pockets of my keeper, Ternent, ere we started on our homeward tramp in the dark. A curious incident befell me on this burn. While fly-fishing, a dipper, flying out from under a hollow brae, touched the cast with his wing and was firmly hooked. He dropped on the water and instantly dived. Hence I had to play a bird under water, the same as a trout. The dipper fought hard ; yet seemed none the worse when released. CHEVIOT 115 From Lang'leeford, we "take the hill," and climb- ing commences in earnest. At first the ascent is over ordinary moorland, heathery slopes with scattered beds of bracken now in its beautiful emerald stage. Close by, spring three or four cheeping fledglings. They are young grouse ; and, following their departure, ensues a flutter and a scuffle among the heather. It is their anxious mother, flapping along, wing-broken and disabled. Admirably she feigns all this, at the moment when her brood need the opportunity to make good their escape ; not till all are safely out of sight, do the parents take wing — the old cock had been crouching all this time within a few yards. Leaving the gaunt cone of Hedgehope on the left, presently the broad, flat summit of Cheviot comes into view, though still far above. Gradually as one ascends, the heather becomes scrubby and dwarfed, and mixed with the golden fronds of blaeberry-ling, whortleberry ( Vaccinium vitis-idcza), and creeping-heath. For the last few hundred feet, so stunted is the vegetation as to resemble a great soft mossy carpet, easy to the tread, yet strewn broadcast with fragments of the dark grey porphyry and dolerite that form Cheviot's plutonic mass. The actual summit is a broad, desolate plateau, over half-a-mile in extent, its surface but half clad with wiry bents and cotton-grass, interspersed with moss-hags and stagnant pools, oozy peat-flats and deep, black ravines. The monotony of barrenness is relieved by the white blossoms of the cloudberry {Rubus chczmimonis), a mountain-plant that flourishes at altitudes of some 2000 feet. The fruit, which matures in August, resembles a raspberry in form ; but is red at first, turning yellow 116 WRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS when ripe.1 The alpine Cornus succica also grows at one spot here — a very rare British plant, not found save on Cheviot and on one other of the northern hills. Here and there grow tufts of stag's-horn moss {Lycofiodium), trailing shoots of crowberry [Emfietrum nigrum), bilberry ( Vaccinium myrtillus), and many another alpine plant. Besides a few golden plovers, a grouse or two (none nest so high), and a chance titlark, the only birds one may expect to see on the summit of Cheviot (2676 feet) are the dunlins. Of these there is a little colony' — generally five or six pairs, all breeding together among the moory tussocks, and extremely tame, preening and "purring" within a dozen yards. Beautiful little creatures they are, in their summer-plumage of bright chestnut and black, with white flanks and the black patch on their breasts. One might expect that these bleak altitudes would attract dotterel and whimbrel : but although the invitation is cordial enough, yet for reasons of their own, both these species ignore it, and every spring pass by unresponsive. On a clear day the view from Cheviot repays all labour of the ascent. The eye ranges over a panorama of mountain-land. Northward, beyond the Tweed, with glimpses of its silvery thread, extend interminable Lam- mermuirs. The triple crests of the Eildons, above Melrose, stand out prominent in the west ; while all the 1 A kindly critic of the first edition wrote from Kelso that the cloud- berry "flourishes in fine fruit at Moodlaw Loch, which is only about 1200 feet above sea-level." I have since found it growing luxuriantly on Peel- fell (1975 feet), and on Deadwater-fell (1867 feet) at the head of North Tyne. Cloudberries are called "noops" in Northumberland, and grow all along the Border line, but not, according to general belief, under 1000 feet altitude. CHEVIOT 117 successive fell-ranges along the Border can be distin- guished. Southward also are hills — nothing but hills ; Kelso Cleugh and the Windy Gyle ; the broad contour of Shilmoor, and, nearer at hand, the rival peak of Hedgehope (2348 feet), its green steeps furrowed with peat-cracks like the pencilling^' on a bunting's egg. The Simonside range limits the view in this direction ; but to the east, nearly all the seaboard of Northumberland lies in view. There, one distinguishes the ancient Border fortresses of Bamborough, Dunstanborough, and the Lindisfarne, the wooded heights of Chillingham and the fatal field of Flodden. Further away, the Fames and Coquet Island show dimly through a slight sea-haze ; while right opposite, lies Holy Island, with its white sands set off by a surriit sea : — "The tide did now its floodmark gain And girdled in the saints' domain, For with the ebb and flow, its style Varies from Continent to Isle. Dryshod o'er sands twice every day The pilgrim to the shrine finds way. Twice every day the waves efface Of staves and sandalled feet the trace." {Marmion.) Half-a-mile across the plateau, the actual boundary is marked by Auchhope Cairn, a steepled granite pile that dominates that eerie abyss yclept the Henhole. At this spot, England and Scotland are divided by a gorge that is certainly as wild and bold as any that I have seen in the three kingdoms. The whole mountain-flank is rent in twain from the top to the bottom — the depth of the gorge, by rude eye-measurement, looks like 1500 feet. The screes, or "glitters," which fringe the flanks of this abyss are interrupted by jagged outstanding 118 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS ridges of porphyry and black volcanic rock that arrest even a careless eye. Within its depths, dash and leap, unseen, the headwaters of College, hurrying down to its romantic valley, far below. A mile or two to the northward, another tremendous chasm rends the flanks of Cheviot. This is the Bezzil, an amphitheatre of pinnacled rocks, less constricted than Henhole, but even more precipitous. Here, even at mid- summer, a great snowbrae often lingers in defiance of our summer sun. This hot year (1887), it had disappeared; but only three weeks before (on May 29th), I had noticed an acre or two of heavy snow lying on the sheltered face. These two sequestered crags, the Bezzil and the Henhole, have been, from time immemorial (and re- mained, even to these days), the breeding-places of the raven and the peregrine falcon. In the year of which I write (1887), both eyries had been occupied. Two months before, the ravens already had their brood fledged in Henhole. Their nest, in a rock-cleft, though accessible by a diagonal ledge to within a few yards, was, at that point, protected from nearer approach by a vertical chasm that was impassable even to skilled rock-climbers. But at that short distance — only a few yards — one could overlook the great rough nest, and see the eggs or young within. The peregrines also had bred in the Bezzil ; but their young had (as usual) been taken, by the detest- able device of lowering a ball of rough worsted into the eyrie. Into this the young falcons so inextricably drive their talons that they could thus be hauled up to the crag-top. It was two years later, in 1889, according to local report, that a Scotch gamekeeper came over and shot the female peregrine off her nest. At any rate, since the year named, the eyrie in Bezzil has been deserted. CHEVIOT 119 To-day I could still enjoy the pleasure of seeing- a peregrine falcon, one of which dashed out from a rock- ledge in the crags far below, and, with her beautiful wild scream, circled and soared around for some minutes before disappearing- among- the clouds. The following- is a note made some years ago on the breeding- of the peregrine on the Borders, though it does not refer to the Bezzil nor to Cheviot at all : — May 29. — The peregrines at B — ■ — - Crag have this morning- hatched two young- — white and down-clad. Their larder contains a snipe, a golden plover, and a cushat, all these uneaten. There are, besides, numerous wings and other fragments of former feasts on the ledge, and scattered on the rocks beneath. Ten days ago (May 1 9th), there were three eg-gs, lying quite bare on a mere scratching on the rock-ledge, and quite easy of access. The falcon's note resembles that of a kestrel, but is louder — there is a kestrel's nest close by, for com- parison. The raven's nest this year is within 20 yards of the falcon's ; but the young of the former have already flown, a month ago. Curiously, this latter nest is built on the exact spot where the peregrines bred last year. On a steep heathery slope, half a mile beyond, a pair of merlins had their nest. We watched the male chase a cock-grouse. It was probably in pure fun and exuber- ance of spirit ; yet the grouse doubled and dived into some long heather to avoid being struck. Further round to the north and east of the Bezzil, above the head of Goldscleugh burn, a third great ravine cleaves asunder the mountain-side with a singular diagonal fissure. At this crag, on one occasion, while crawling to look over a perpendicular face, we came on a 120 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS fox, fast asleep, curled up on a ledge scarce 5 feet below. Foxes are, of course, abundant enough all over the Cheviots, and in spring", almost every crag or series of tumbled rocks holds a brood. The pine-marten has utterly disappeared from the Cheviots ; l but badgers still hold their own at many points. There was a badger's earth in the rocks below Ilderton Dod, on Cheviot, that we watched one spring with great interest. In habits, these animals are scrupulously cleanly. A fox's earth, as everyone knows, has an overpowering, sickening smell, while that of a badger is clean and sweet. The latter possesses, more- over, some rudimentary sense of comfort — which a fox lacks — for the badger provides himself with a nice dry bed of dead grass and fern, and on sunny days brings it out to air! There is danger, however, in this practice, for the mass of broken litter about the mouth of the den is apt to betray its whereabouts. Though built and designed by nature for digging up roots and a vegetable diet, yet badgers do destroy a certain number of rabbits — (of which there are always enough and to spare) — and in spring they exhibit a marvellous skill in "spotting" from above, nests contain- ing young rabbits. These they do not attack from the mouth of the burrow, which would seem the easiest plan; but dig down vertically upon them — "crowning," the keepers call this performance. Badgers are also fond of wild-honey; and in Garret Hott wood, a couple of miles from here, Mr Thomas Robson of Bridgeford tells 1 Though the pine-marten is extinct in Northumberland, a few still survive in Westmorland and Cumberland ; whence stragglers may occasion- ally find their way along the crags and rugged moors that mark the line of the Roman wall. CHEVIOT 121 me he has found as many as nine wasps' nests dug" out by them during- a single summer. Another notable tenant of the crags of Cheviot is the wild-goat. Little herds of these have, from time imme- morial, rambled over the hills of the Border, and still lead a life of absolute wildness. Some of the old " Billies " carry quite imposing heads. One such, the leader of a band of seven, at times frequented a shooting I then had, and eventually afforded me a thoroughly exciting stalk which culminated in the wild rock-gorge of Skirl- naked. There are bigger rocks in Bezzil, steeper screes in Henhole ; yet Cheviot boasts few more picturesque spots than Skirlnaked, with its abrupt crags, its tumbling fosses, and silvery icicles. My Cheviot wild-goat's head measures 25 inches from tip to tip of horns, and now hangs on my walls — the hairiest by far of all the hundred head of big game collected thereon from three continents. It may be asked why animals yielding no return in fleece or flesh, are granted free pasturage on the hills. The answer given by the shepherds is unanimous — "The goats earn their livelihood by killing the adders." Whether this be so or not, there is some corrobora- tion in the native name of the grandest of all the wild goats — the Markhoor of the Himalayas' — that word signifying "snake-eater." These Cheviot goats, more- over, graze largely among precipitous rocks, great parts of which are inaccessible to sheep.1 We have a dozen miles to tramp home, and the shadows lengthen. The steep slopes grow all orange and gold with the bright-leaved bilberry, aglow in the 1 In North Tyne also are goats ; but there they mostly belong to the shepherds, who keep them for their own use. These goats are not so wild as those of Cheviot. 122 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS evening sunlight, and there is the tormentilla, like a small buttercup, with tufts of saxifrage, green spleenwort, and other quasi-alpine plants. Now we strike the head of a hill-burn which leads towards our destination, and for six miles follow its course over moorlands where curlews whistle and plovers pipe ; by tumbling" linns where rowans scent the breeze and foxgioves grow in rocky- crannies ; by darkly pools where trout splash and play — a delicious walk in that cool twilight ends a delightful day. Already, ere home is reached, the first glint of flame on every surrounding fell and peak recalls the sentiment of the jubilee day — a sentiment which ten thousand beacon- fires will presently attest throughout our land, the symbols of a nation's joy. CHAPTER X THE PROCESS OF MIGRATION In a former chapter were discussed some aspects of the Causes which impel birds to migrate. In the present, are added certain studies on the Process by which that migration is effected. The migration of birds is accepted too generally as an article of faith. Its operation (in certain obvious cases) is so patent, that many are content to accept the whole phenomenon on trust without further ado or the trouble of investigation. But inquiry brings its students face to face with facts and circumstances of such difficulty as to shake to its foundations that earlier easy-going faith. That, it may be said, is inherent to the nature of "faith" ; but, in this case, we have means of probing, deeper than in all, towards the bases in actual facts that underlie the unknown. We are apt to measure Nature's methods by the standard she has assigned to ourselves alone. Thereby we may create for ourselves difficulties and "marvels," not to say impossibilities, which, if regarded from some more appropriate standpoint, might prove explicable enough. How do birds migrate? That is, by what means can such feeble creatures transfer themselves by millions, 124 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS twice each year, over vast distances (often thousands of miles) of sea and land ? I suggest, in the first place, that no one has ever seen the process of migration in actual operation. Migrat- ing birds are, of course, seen at lightships and light- houses, and in many analogous cases. But that is not the process of migration. It is merely its termination, as the birds make good their landfall. The extent of the migratory impulse in birds has already been emphasised. That impulse is all but universal. It follows that a very large proportion of its whole bird-population leave this country (and every northern country) every half-year, and return thereto during the other half. Thus the actual numbers of birds on the move are utterly incalculable — a tangle of figures beyond computation. Put it this way : That acres and square miles of birds pass and repass twice yearly over, say, half the earth's superficies, land or water. Yet no one sees them. Every September you see the assembling of swallows on dead trees or telegraph-wires— next day they are gone. But none see them go, or see them on transit. Swallows are but one species, and we have in England 200 or 300 species that migrate. Migration, in fact, is effected as far beyond our vision, as its means lie beyond our knowledge. There is always abundant evidence of the progress of migration, although the process is invisible. For the observation of migration, not many ornithologists can have enjoyed wider opportunity than the author, during upwards of fifty over-sea voyages, out and home, including the North Sea and Cattegat, Arctic and Atlantic (North and South), Mediterranean, Red Sea, THE PROCESS OF MIGRATION 125 and Indian Ocean as far south as the Mozambique Channel. Though perhaps outside the scope of a book on local ornithology, an example or two of the experiences on which these conclusions are based, may be instanced. With a single exception (and that on the short run to Norway), we noticed land-birds at sea on each of fifty-six voyages — even in mid-Atlantic, snow-buntings boarded our ship. But the numbers observed, save in two cases, were quite insignificant, varying from an odd bird or two up to a few dozens or scores at a time, during an entire voyage. Note also, that in the majority of cases these travellers sought refuge on the ship, and that many of them died there, of cold, hunger, and exhaustion. But where were the "acres and square miles " of birds that were not exhausted? These are not seen. The inference is that at sea practically nothing is visible of the real process of migration. All one does see, is merely casual external evidence ■ of its progress — its waifs and strays, its lost wanderers, that, in last resource, seek fatuous safety on passing vessels as drowning men are said to catch at straws. The few that are seen are a bagatelle, a wholly negligible quantity as compared with the unseen armies above. Those seen, moreover, mostly perish. Even those birds that have so far succeeded in their over-sea journey as to have reached the outermost light- ships— should they be so far deceived by them as to drop their flight earthwards — will still assuredly perish, should adverse conditions be then encountered. They cannot cover even that short distance unaided. The following is an illustration. On April ioth (1906), we were traversing the Eastern Mediterranean, homeward- bound. While of! Crete (which was dimly visible, 15 12G BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS miles to the northward), a sudden and bitter northerly gale sprang up. Two hours later, our ship, the Messa- geries Maritimes' steamer Djemnah, became the goal of hundreds of birds, no longer able (while already in sight of land) to face the adverse wind. The great majority of these unfortunates were yellow wagtails (the continental blue-headed species), together with swallows and martins, pipits, and wheatears of a southern species (either the eared or the black-throated).1 Stronger-winged birds — to wit, nightjars and lesser kestrels — hovered under our lee, and at dusk took refuge in the rigging. These perhaps passed on at dawn ; but of the rest, the only traces visible in the morning were a few draggled corpses. Similar conditions prevailed throughout the whole of that day (April nth), while crossing the Ionian Sea. Thousands of migrants perished through that untimely breeze. But if thou- sands died, tens of thousands passed safely onwards, unseen. Nature recks naught of individual lives. As when in warfare a commander reckons on gaining an object at a loss of 10,000 and secures it at 5000, he has succeeded ; so with the birds — the majority get safely across. In this case, for forty hours we were passing across (or beneath) the lines of an army of migrants — say 500 miles in width ; yet not a sign did we see, save only the wreckage' — the feeble that fell out by the way. Two other questions invite consideration. (1) By what means do small species, of little wing-power, 1 The arrangement of modern Liners, shut in fore and aft with canvas awnings, though conducive to the comfort of passengers, is totally adverse to ornithological observation — hence the uncertain identification. THE PROCESS OF MIGRATION 127 cover the enormous distances appointed them ; and (2), how do any birds, weak or strong, so direct their course as to reach their distant points, year after year, with unerring precision? The only truthful answer to both these questions, despite all the attention paid to ornithology for centuries, is simple enough : we do not know. I will take the second question first. A presumptive reply, which prima facie seems obvious, is that the knowledge of direction is derived from older birds, which, having performed the journey before, are thus enabled to pilot the young. But any such idea collapses when we find that, as a rule, young and old travel separately ; and that, in most cases, the young birds precede the adults in their first migratory flight. Too impatient to wait till their parents have completed the autumnal moult, these mere fledglings set out alone to traverse an unknown world. Very unfilial, no doubt, appears such conduct ; but that they do so is an easily proved fact, well within our knowledge- — some details thereof are set out else- where in this book.1 We are therefore left (in our blind- ness) with no other resource than to ascribe this juvenile success in steering to that nebulous definition, "inherited instinct." Nor, as suggested, can twentieth-century knowledge furnish any more definite reply to the question first above propounded. That long-winged birds such as cuckoos, swallows and swifts, curlews, sandpipers, and even the crows and thrushes, are capable of sustained flight, we can readily imagine. But how can the punier 1 The following extract from the Migration Report, 1880, p. 66, seems pertinent: — "As a rule the young of the year migrate some weeks in advance of the old birds. This holds good of all orders and species." 128 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS folk- — feathered mites such as tits and goldcrests, together with all the short-winged warblers — cover their distances ? Knowledge of these birds while here, with close observa- tion of their habits and powers, appear absolutely to negative the possibility of their flying unaided across wide seas. None of the small warblers ever flies one hundred yards on end during the four months they spend with us. Yet, at the end of that period, they all start on a straightaway flight of two, three, or four thousand miles. A few typical cases, though conveying nothing new to ornithologists, will serve to emphasise the point to others : — Goldcrest. — Length 3A inches, wing 2 inches, weight 95 grains. Habitually crosses the North Sea \>y thousands — distance 400 miles. Willow -wren. — Length 5 inches, wing 2I inches. Summers not only in Northumberland, but right up to the North Cape in Norway, and winters in Africa, direct distance, North Cape to Algeria 2550 miles; and it goes far beyond this. The chiffchaff (wing 2 \ inches) and the whitethroat halt by the Polar circle ; but the wheatear, blackcap, and garden-warbler, along with several others of our small summer- warblers, wagtails, etc., push on as far north as land stretches in Europe. Yet all, as a rule, winter beyond the Mediterranean — at least 2500 miles; and I have myself seen the wheatear, wagtails, tree-pipit, and others far further south than that — another 2600 miles, namely in British East Africa, beyond the equator. Tree-pipit. — We found this small bird breeding beyond the Arctic circle and in Finmark (70° N. lat.) ; yet, as just stated, I recognised it at Nairobi in British East THE PROCESS OF MIGRATION 129 Africa, and (together with the sedge-warbler) it has been recorded wintering 1800 miles further south still, namely, at Irene in the Transvaal — making a total range of 6000 miles. Swallow. — Following are four casual observations of my own. The four I separate into two groups, but without suggestion that either event is actually co-related to its fellow : though the coincidence of the juxtaposed dates certainly possesses a strong general significance that bears on the process of migration. Group No. 1. February 13. — Swallows congregating by thousands on islets of Lake Elmenteita, slightly south of the equator, in British East Africa.1 February 23. — Arrival of swallows in Southern Spain ; quite a nuisance while snipe-shooting, by catching one's eye in every direction. Group No. 2. March 26. — Another great departure from East Africa, observed at Sultan Hamud, and continuing over three days. Api'il io-ii. — Swallows crossing Eastern Mediter- ranean on a front of 500 miles- — (cf. supra, p. 126). Our swallow ranges from North Cape to Cape Colony, a total distance of 7450 miles. That these tiny creatures do actually perform journeys that appear impossible, is, of course, a well ascertained fact, that we have got to recognise. I venture, never- 1 Note, incidentally, that beneath the swallows, lay two huge Hippo- potami, basking in the sun ! I 130 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS theless, to disbelieve that these migrations are accom- plished in the way that is ordinarily accepted — that is, by hard straightaway flying. There remain yet to be discovered the auxiliary factors that alone can render such feats possible — those natural or physical advantages, or favouring conditions, not necessarily recondite, that will bring the phenomenon within the radius of practic- able performance. The anomaly puzzled ancient thinkers ages ago. They suggested that larger birds carried the smaller over-sea, in fact that migrating storks and cranes took passengers. Nearer our own times, Gilbert White gravely ruminated on the alternative of hibernation as a solvent of the perplexity. Such ideas are abandoned ; but we have not yet touched solid ground, and still remain in the region of theory and conjecture. Birds are warmer-blooded than ourselves or other mammalia, and are capable of sustaining life in rarified atmospheres where these could not. By a simple mechanical ascent, they can reach, within a league or two, regions and conditions quite beyond human know- ledge : where, selecting favouring air-strata, they may be able to rest without exertion ; or find meteorological or atmospheric forces that mitigate or abolish the labours of ordinary flight, or possibly assist their progress. The explanation may be simple ; some force or factor over- looked, though it may be, perhaps, in full view — or perhaps, at present, unknown. It is in the upper regions of open space where, I suggest, the final clue will be found. Nowhere else on this earth does there remain a region (within the trifling span of a league or two) which yet resists the ingenuity and the enterprise of mankind to pierce and THE PROCESS OF MIGRATION 131 to investigate. Birds, as shown, travel far above the utmost range of our vision. The two considerations, taken together, indicate the direction whence a final solution of present perplexities may be sought — and found. A Note on Migration. — While these pages are passing through the press, my attention was arrested, during a meeting of the British Ornitholo- gists' Club (London, November 20th, 1906), by certain simple facts stated by my friend, Mr W. Eagle Clarke of Edinburgh ; for these facts clearly point the conclusion that we yet overlook much. During two successive autumn sojourns on Fair Isle (Shetland), Mr Clarke met in quite considerable numbers, with species which are practically unknown on the adjacent main- land— such as, for example, the Lapland Bunting. Now Fair Isle is a mere rock, two miles by one, with some 300 acres of tillage. It lies midway between Orkney and Shetland, about 25 miles from either. Yet neither in Orkney or in Shetland, nor anywhere else in Scotland, have Lap Buntings been recorded during the whole of the two years in question ! The conclusion is irresistible — that, although skilled ornithological observation can detect on barren little islets such as this (or on Heligoland) the occurrence of every species that may visit them ; yet that, on reaching the wider areas of the mainland, the scarcer species may (and do) escape the most careful work and closest observation of number- less local ornithologists. For it stands to reason that when Lap Buntings pass regularly across Fair Isle, they must also reach the surrounding Orkneys and Shetland, and many other North British shores ; yet in the bigger lands they are not recognised — overlooked. CHAPTER XI FASCICULA SPECIFIC BIRD-STUDIES Greater Spotted Woodpecker {Dendrocopus major). This species is the typical woodpecker of the Border- land— the Lesser being- wholly unknown and the Green Woodpecker very scarce and irregular.1 A few of the above are permanently resident, a pair or two frequent- ing most of the larger woods. But the numbers of these residents are reinforced, at quite irregular intervals, by migrants from Northern Europe. Such accessions occurred, for example, in the autumns of 1886 and 1898. During both, this bird was reported at many points, some occurrences coming under our own observation. One at Scots Gap, November 12th, 1886 — "making the chips fly like a woodman," as the keeper put it. Two others, in the same week, on Holy Island — clearly from over-sea. There are few trees on the island, and for lack of a suitable perch, one of these two woodpeckers "clapped itself on to a gate-post"! Another on the 20th, near Durham. Then in 1898, a spotted woodpecker spent an after- 1 A Green Woodpecker was observed at Houxty, October 26th, 1905 — only the second occurrence that has fallen within my own observation. FASCICULA 133 noon in my sister's garden at Jesmond, Newcastle, hammering- at oak-apples. He was "quite tame and very dirty"! A local paper had mentioned one in the Leazes park, at Newcastle, a day or two before ; another note recorded it at Hawick, with the specific addition that "such a bird had not been seen there since 1886." — Note the coincidence of dates. During the following- spring (1899) these woodpeckers were noticeably more numerous than usual. I picked one up dead on the river-side at Houxty, April 28th, and two months later, while I was in South Africa, my brothers found a nest with six young in a silver-birch in Houxty wood. It has nested in this neighbourhood almost every year since. Though preferring coniferous woods, this woodpecker always selects for nesting, a deciduous tree — birch, ash, alder, or wych-elm for choice, and always rotten at the core. One tree may be occupied year after year, in which case it becomes completely hollowed-out, and has two or more entrance-holes, each as round as though bored with an augur. Egg's are laid at end of May, and young fledged July 10th. This is a shy bird, impatient of observation, and has a fine wild fluid cry — as far as can be expressed in words, "gee-yeek" — uttered when on flight. Its call-note, while nesting, is a sort of "clack, clack. " This spring (1906), a pair of great spotted wood- peckers nested at Nunwick, quite close by the house ; the tree selected being a silver-birch, ancient, and broken off short at about 30 feet from the ground. The nest- hole was bored (after several trial "drifts") at about two-thirds that height. When I saw it, the lawn and shrubs beneath were strewn with chips, and Mr A. M. Allgood gave me the following account: — "The wood- 134 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS peckers started prospecting- the tree on Thursday, May 24th. Boring- commenced on Friday, and by Saturday the hole was deep enough to conceal the borers. On Sunday, May 27th, they worked all day, bringing- up, at short intervals, great beaks-full of excavation, which they ejected far into air — quite a couple of feet, or more. So hard did they work, that, after each discharge, the bird would cling-, gasping-, with open beak, outside the entrance. No chips were put out, nor any tapping- heard after Monday (28th), so I presume nest was then finished. I first heard the young- birds (inside the hole) on June 25th. On July 5th and 6th they were notably noisy, but on the 7th had disappeared." The date of fledging was thus three days earlier than that before cited. Miss Taylor kindly writes me, that in the beautiful woods of Chipchase, on North Tyne (opposite Nunwick) ■ — "One pair of woodpeckers nested in 1898, two pairs in 1899 and 1900. One pair in each of the two succeed- ing- years, but none the next. Two pairs bred in 1904, and one in 1905, but this year (1906) there are none." Tree-Creeper. — This, although not allied to the wood- peckers, is of analogous habitat, and abounds in all the Border woodlands. At Houxty it frequents some large ash-trees close outside, and its sprightly movements can be watched at a few yards' distance. Round the big bole, it runs with half-spread wings and mouse-like agility — now stopping to explore some horizontal bough, anon re- suming its spiral ascent till the topmost branch is reached. Thence, like a stone, it drops to the base of the next big tree, to repeat thereon the tireless search for tiny insect and larvae. On occasion, the creeper even enters the house — coming into the porch, where some small trees and shrubs grow in pots, and which seem to be considered FASCICULA 135 as requiring investigation. On July 5th, 1902, a creeper and a cock blackcap were both so engaged there together. The creeper's favourite nesting site is the cavity between some old stump and the loose unattached bark — a most insecure position, since there is no solid founda- tion, the nest-material being simply wedged in. Other nests are in the cracks or crevices of split trees — equally destitute of foundation. Eggs are laid in April, and young near ready to fly by May 20th. The beautiful woods of Ashiesteel on Tweed are a favourite resort. We found two nests there on May 8th, the creepers at that date sitting hard. In the rough weather of winter they withdraw to the shelter of deep pine-wood. There, amid massive spruce and fir ; and in company with gold-crests, kitty- wrens, and tits of all the five species found here, they defy even the severest winters. Wryneck. — Wholly unknown in the north. In forty years' observation, I have neither seen nor heard it, ancl its unmistakable cry can scarce be overlooked. In Southern Norway it arrives by the end of April, and its loud " Hoo, hoo, hoo," repeated ten or a dozen times, can be heard at half a mile. Nuthatch. — Also unknown in the north. Crossbill. — This is certainly a bird of the Borders ; but very local, and most difficult of observation. My brother Alfred paid special attention to it ; yet failed to ascertain definitely the fact of its breeding here, though it constantly frequented the same woods from February to April, and this during several years. Houxty wood is an ideal resort, yet I have never detected the bird amid the tall and thickly-growing spruces. Nightjar.— This is quite the last to arrive of all our 136 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS summer-migrants, being seldom either seen or heard before June. Its favoured haunts by day are sometimes amid the most impenetrable spots in all the wild moorland- — on some fell-edge where riven rocks and boulders lie piled in confusion, many half-hidden amidst shaggy heather and 6-foot bracken. Not always, however, do they seek such break-neck retreats ; they also frequent lowland woods, and it is one of my silent sorrows that none abide here. In Houxty wood are deep pine-glades, with acres of bracken ; but never a nightjar breaks the stillness of a summer's twilight. The conditions do not suit- — perhaps it is a clay subsoil that offends, or the lack of cockchafers. The latter, by the way, though never seen on wing, we often dig out when tree-planting in March — perfect insects, 6 inches underground. No bird surpasses the nightjar in agile flight and command of wing. One may enjoy a beautiful exhibition of specialised bird-life in watching a pair in the gloaming of a summer's clay. To and fro they hawk, as light slowly fades, in swift pursuit of night-flying noctuae ; but so instantaneous are their sidelong swerves, those lightning darts and swoops, that eye can scarce follow- — it loses touch in the twilight. Next instant the bird flashes back, almost in one's face, and one sees the "kill" within 15 feet. The nightjars begin what time the crepuscular gulls leave off. For a few moments, one may see both at work together. The black-headed gulls are smart on wing — no bird that is not, need hope to dine on night-moths. They miss but little within reach ; yet their grace- ful performance is presently overshadowed by that of the nightjar. It is darker now, yet the latter seems to FASCICULA 137 work the "double right-and-left" with unerring precision. Before it is over, one has seen a sight that will not fade from memory. Crakes and Rails. The Water- Rail (Rallus aquations) cannot properly be regarded as a summer-bird, though he is here at that season. One sees more of him in the depth of winter, when frosts and snows have cut down the dense aquatic growths in which he delights — those tangles of sedge and rush wherein, at other seasons, he lives well-nigh invisible. March 18. — Heard to-day near Houxty the curious rolling note — as it were between the purring of a cat and the croak of a frog ■ — that I take to be the pairing call of the water-rail. This continued for some days, often in two separate places ; and after infinite watching with the binoculars (in a freezing wind), I, at length, satisfied myself. There were two pairs of water- rails ; but such is their innate secretiveness, that even in the thin covert (the mere wreck of last summer's growth), one could get no more than an occasional glimpse. While watching, two herons settled close beyond and remained, catching minnows, till I was too stiff and cold to stay any longer. Early in April (along with the above) a second note was heard, quite distinct, and which frequently ended in a little wild cry or shriek. The water-rails had now settled down ; they were more at home, and more easily seen than before. But the author of this second note never could be fairly distinguished. One might know the very tuft that concealed him, even detect his move- ment within it, but never did even his outline appear in 138 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS the light of day. I have no doubt, however, from my recollection of this note in Spain and Denmark, that the stranger was a Spotted Crake. Both notes continued to be heard until the early part of May, and there is no doubt that both species bred there. This bog" is a little bit of a place, that I had made a year or two before, by damming"-back a sluggish ditch ; and it was an intense satisfaction to find it attract two such interesting species. Besides these, reed-buntings came to breed there, as well as waterhens, sandpipers, kingfisher, and mallard. Redshanks and snipe also visit it in March, and again in July. It is the drainage of every bit of moist or marshy land — even a little boggy corner like this — that has well- nigh eliminated marsh-birds from the British avifauna. There are very few spots where the spotted crake breeds in the north — perhaps half-a-dozen. I have notes of three specimens shot in autumn : but, unlike the water- rail, it disappears before winter, and the latest killed was on October 26th. My brother Alfred and I found a spotted crake's nest in West Jutland, May 15th, 1893 — A. almost putting his hand on the old bird (to save himself from falling in the squash-bog), when she rose from eight eggs. We were looking for a nest of the blacktailed godwit at the moment, and the four eggs of the latter also lay within a dozen yards. Jutland, however, is not all drained dry. Short-Eared Owl {Asio accipitrinus). The status of this species, until recent years, might have been defined as that of a winter-migrant with strong presumption that a small proportion remained to breed ; FASCICULA 139 while it was an ascertained fact that some had actually done so. Hancock's recorded instances referred chiefly to North Tyne, where the short-eared owl still nests annually in small numbers. It clings to certain spots (young woods and rough heathery cleughs, as well as on the open moor), where I have frequently sprung these owls from the ground during the spring months. With setters, a nest or two could be found within a couple of hours any year ; but the evidence suffices as it stands, and I am loth to push it to full proof; for needless disturbance of scarce birds should be avoided, lest it give offence. The same remarks apply equally in the cases of the water-rail and spotted crake, above mentioned. Any doubts, moreover, have been set at rest by the events of the early nineties. At that date, there occurred throughout the south of Scotland, a "vole- plague." The destructive little rodents swarmed in millions, and following them appeared, as by magic, an attendant army of short-eared owls : which so long as this food-supply lasted, remained to nest in the Borderland. In 1893, the last expiring ripples of the vole-plague lapped over the Border into Northumberland. We had, that year, the shooting of Ilderton, on Cheviot ; and on that one moor, at least a dozen pairs of owls nested on the open heather. So vigorous had these owls become, through several years of unwonted abundance, that each nest contained families of ten or a dozen, and even more ; these were, moreover, in all stages — from fresh eggs and downy owlets, up to full-feathered fledglings, side by side in the same nest. The old owls might often be seen hunting by clay, sometimes half-a-dozen being in sight 140 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS at once ; and during the August shooting, they circled inquisitively close round dog" and man. After the vole- plague ceased, the invading owls vanished as mysteri- ously as they had come.1 A curious result followed the vole-plague. In districts where the most severe damage appeared to have been suffered (the grass being destroyed at the roots, cut through, and lying all loose on the earth), the new herbage, we were told a couple of years later, had come away green and sweet, and of far better quality than the destroyed bents. Pallas' Sandgrouse (Syrrhaptes paradoxus). Most remarkable of all erratic wanderers is this Central-Asian species, which, on three occasions during the last half-century, has invaded Europe. The main facts need no recapitulation. Suffice it to say that, after a minor irruption in 1859, there occurred in 1863 a regular inrush. Deserting their distant homes on the steppes of Tartary, Turkestan, and Tibet, these sandgrouse, seized by an inexplicable impulse, sped with the sun as far as land stretches to the westward ; and, crossing Caspian and Caucasus, they spread themselves over Europe from Italy to Archangel, and across Ireland to Donegal. A quarter of a century later — namely, in April 1888 — a third advance to the outposts of scientific observation was reported from Austrian sources. We were there- fore prepared to hear of their advent at home ; yet 1 A similar, but far more extensive invasion of these same short-eared owls has occurred in Argentina — the owls, in that case, having come all the way from, say, Canada. FASCICULA 141 never shall I forget the surprise and pleasure experienced (on May 31st), on opening- a parcel-post package, to find within, a pair of these strange and lovely birds. They had just been shot on Holy Island, and were accompanied by a letter asking" what they were, and stating that a flock of sixty had arrived there on May 6th ; but that "as they were destroying- his crop, the farmer had gx)t liberty to shoot them." These two contained a few grains of barley and a quantity of what certainly re- S Pallas' Sandgrouse (male). sembled turnip-seed ; on planting- the latter, however, it proved to be the common field-runch, a noxious weed. Thus, so far from destroying- crops, the sandgrouse were really assisting to clean the land. The extent of wastes and sandlinks in that neighbour- hood appeared to offer at least as congenial a haunt as the wanderers were likely to find on British soil ; yet all had disappeared shortly after midsummer. Later in the year, others were observed there ; but these were probably fresh arrivals. 142 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS The weather in July 1888 was phenomenally cold, with a succession of bitter gales from E.— N.E., and N., and snow was reported on the Cumberland hills. This probably settled the fate of the sandgxouse. But they were doomed, in any case, as all such wanderers are ; and not even an Act of Parliament, specially passed to protect them, could retard their destiny by a single hour. The following is an extract from the letter which accompanied a second pair sent me : — "They were very tame ; there were flocks of 200 or 300, and I passed within 30 yards. The nearest birds were lying on their sides, 'howking' with one foot like molerats." Of the four birds sent us, two males weighed 10 oz. each ; the females, 9} and io| oz. They were good eating, of grouse-like flavour, the flesh of the inner part of the breast being white, as in blackgame. All four were partially moulting : the testes and ovaries well- developed, the latter in varying degree. Hooded Crow [Corvus comix). Though usually regarded as a purely winter migrant, an odd pair will occasionally remain to breed among the Cheviot hills. Thus in April 1890, my brother Alfred, with Mr V. W. Corbett, found a nest with young in the College-burn, behind Cheviot. Both parents were grey, but the five young were black. Mr Corbett writes me : " We only found that one hoodie's nest. It was on Southern Knowe. The young had evidently just left the nest, and could only fly a short distance — perhaps 50 yards. They managed, however, to keep out of our way when we ran after and tried to catch FASC1CULA 143 them. They were quite black. I have sometimes wondered if they could have been young- rooks ; but what goes against that is that the two old hoodies kept flying about over our heads, discoursing sweet music all the time — so I take it they were young" hoodies. I do not think there has been another hoodie's nest up the College-burn during the last sixteen years, since that one in 1890." The interbreeding of two such apparently distinct species as the black carrion-crow [Cowus co rone) and the hooded crow is one of the unsolved problems of ornitho- logy. No similar case occurs in the whole range of European bird-life. The more obvious explanation, that the two are not specifically distinct, but merely northern and southern forms of one species, which interbreed at the point of juncture, appears to be negatived by their respective geographical ranges. For the hooded crow is not an exclusively northern race. True, it breeds abundantly in Norway and Scot- land, avoiding- England altogether, except in winter. But outside our islands, the hooded crow goes a long way south — further than its black congener- — breeding not only in Italy, Sicily, and the Mediterranean islands, but even in Egypt. Professor Newton regards the two forms as a ''dimorphism"; but it seems to be a matter of "ear" in stating that in their notes the two are identical. I think one may distinguish the triple croak of a hoodie as he flies to roost in the woods from that of a carrion crow. The hoodies also breed slightly earlier, having eggs (in Scotland) in March ; whereas the corby, in Northumberland, regards April 10th as a more suitable date for laying. 144 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS Hawfinch {Coccotkraustes vulgaris). This bird is so extremely rare on the Borders (unrecorded hitherto as breeding- in Northumberland), that the following- notes, extending over a period of years — for which I am indebted to Miss Taylor of Chipchase Castle, Northumberland — have special value and are quoted in extenso :■ — -" I had not noticed Hawfinches previous to 1901, but in the middle of July of that year, saw fully-fledged young- in the garden at Chip- chase, and on searching", found the nest in an old apple-tree, 8 feet from the ground. In 1902, a nest was built in the top branches of a pear-tree at 10 feet, completed the third week in May ; but, being dis- turbed by a gardener when four egg's had been laid, was deserted. " During the two following years, no hawfinches were observed at Chipchase, though I carefully watched for them. "In 1905, I did not find nest till the young were nearly full-fledged, in the last week of July. It was built in the top branches of a golden yew in a shrubbery near the g'arden — a much thicker situation than any of those previously found. Until I got a very close view, I could not be certain that the parents were hawfinches. Nest Sh feet from ground, five young- birds. "In 1906, the hawfinches built in the top branches of a pear-tree, 10 feet from ground. Nest commenced May 1 8th, six eggs laid May 28th. Hen killed on nest by a cat on the 29th, and since the 30th the cock bird has not been seen." This last nest I examined in situ. It was loosely constructed of thin dark twigs, almost as slight as that FASCICULA 145 of a turtle-dove; though compacted in the cup with scraps of moss and a few lichens. One could see daylight through it anywhere. Lesser Whitethroat {Sylvia currucd). To the same observant lady, I am indebted for the following note on another species, the Lesser White- throat, which also is here, for the first time within my knowledge, recorded as nesting in Northumberland. Miss Taylor writes: — "In 1899 a pair nested at Chipchase in a low thick thorn, one of several similar bushes growing together, 30 yards from a burn. This nest was about 2 feet from the ground, and the female commenced sitting on five eggs in the second week of June. "The following year (1900) the nest was in a similar situation, in a very thick thorn, about 10 yards distant from the old site, and 3 feet from the ground. There were four eggs when I left home in the middle of June. No lesser whitethroats have been seen at Chipchase since then." The only two instances of the nesting of the lesser whitethroat that have come under my observation, both occurred in the county of Durham. The eggs of the common whitethroat {Sylvia cinerea) are subject to an aberrant type (rare, yet persistent), which varieties may be mistaken for eggs of the lesser species. One such nest I found here on June 8th, 1903 ; and the following year, on May 27th, a similar clutch was discovered, near the same spot, by Mr Selous. On the latter occasion, doubts were resolved by securing the female. These aberrant eggs, however, differ from those K 146 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS of the Lesser Whitethroat, since, while agreeing- in a generally whiter ground-colour, these are flecked rather than spotted, with angular splashes of a blackish-brown ; whereas eggs of 5. curruca exhibit large sub-rounded spots of a warmer wood-brown, darker in the centre. CHAPTER XII STATIONARY SPECIES The compilation of an analysis such as this should occupy infinitely more time than the few hours that the author has been able to allot to it. Yet, though incomplete and extemporaneous, it may serve to emphasise the point so often put forward- — as to the universality of the migratory impulse in birds. There are included in the British list, some 400 species. In his Catalogue of the Birds of Northumber- land and Durham, Mr Hancock enumerated 265 ; so that (allowing for accidental stragglers) the feathered population of the Borderland may roughly be estimated as not far short of 200 species of birds. And of all this number, I have not been able to count, as absolute residents, more than fourteen land- birds ; while of eighteen other species, there co-exist both a resident and a migratory race. Put it thus : — Species r. Birds absolutely stationary 14 2. Birds which, although stationary, have yet a migrant- complement 18 32 3. Leaving the number of regular migrants 170 Total, say 202 147 148 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS i. ABSOLUTELY STATIONARY SPECIES That is, those birds as to which NO EVIDENCE EXISTS of a regular migration. (i) DIPPER {Cinclns aquaticus). The evidence of arrivals from over-sea on the N.-E. coast is too trivial to consider. Dippers, it is true, have been exceptionally recorded, as, e.g., from the Isle of May in August — another at same spot (specifically stated to have belonged to the " British form " ) on April 22nd. These exceptions, I overlook. Those few dippers which, in autumn, reach East Anglia (where the species is otherwise unknown) belong to the continental form, C. melanogaster. (2) Tree-Creeper (Certhia famittaris). (3) Marsh-Tit {Parus palustris, subsp. dresseri). ^ (4) COAL-TlT {Parus ater, subsp. britannicus). J In both these, the British race is subspecifically distinct from the continental. Our insular varieties are stationary. A few of typical P. ater (as well as A. caudata — rosea) do cross the North Sea ; but in such trifling numbers as to be negligible. (5) LONGTAILED TlT {Acredula caudata, var. rosea). Here again we have a stationary insular form, subspecifically distinguishable from true A. caudata of Linnteus, by its duller colours, and absence of the white head. Of the latter Mr Saunders and I found, in Norway, a nest of pendulous form, not hitherto noticed in these islands. (6) Great Spotted Woodpecker {Dendrocopus major). The precise status of this species is elsewhere defined {Fascicula, p. 132). At intervals of years, occur irregular invasions from over- sea— reinforcing our sedentary stock. I place the bird in the list of RESIDENTS because the said invasions are wholly irregular and unsystematic. (7) Jay {Garrulus glandarius). The same remarks apply to this as to the last-named species. (8) Magpie {Pica caudata). The recorded occurrences at sea are so few, and so irregular that they may best be regarded as accidental. STATIONARY SPECIES 149 (9) White Owl {Strix flammed). The range of this species is very restricted to the northward. The few that arrive here from foreign parts, appear to be invariably of the darker, continental form. Our insular stock is stationary. (10) Red Grouse {Lagopus scotlcus). (11) Black Grouse {Tetrao tetrix). (12) Partridge {Perdix cinered). (13) Pheasant {Phasianus). (14) WATERHEN {Gallinuta chloropus). All observed movements are merely local. No evidence of immigration from over-sea. NOTE. — Razorbill, cormorant, and others may possibly be entitled to rank as residents ; but these purely sea-fowl, together with the gulls, are herein excluded from consideration. 2. SPECIES OF DOUBLE RACE, Possessing both (a) a stationary stock, and (b) a migrant influx. (1) Peregrine {Falco peregrinus). (2) Sparrow-Hawk {Accipiter nisus). (3) Tawny Owl {Syrnium aluco). (4) Long-Eared Owl {Ash otus). (5) Raven {Corvus corax). (6) Carrion-Crow (C. corone). In the above six cases, our stationary breeding-stock is supple- mented every autumn (though presumably not reinforced) by a foreign influx, which returns north in spring. In the case of birds of prey, it should be remembered that the old necessarily drive their young away from their own locality. (7) ROOK [Corvus frugilegus). As many rooks cross the North Sea as do hoodies. Both come in battalions — numerically, in fact, the rook stands fifth on the list of immigrants. Yet in many rookeries, it is impossible to detect evidence of any seasonal movement. (8) Jackdaw {Corvus moneduld). Similar remarks apply. Thousands cross the sea ; yet certain crags and favourite resorts possess a stationary population. 150 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS (9) Robin (Erythacus rubecidd). Though, as a species, essentially migratory, crossing the North Sea by thousands, yet unquestionably individuals (affected, in many instances, by human influence) acquire a sedentary habit ; and have learnt to stay at home. (10) Wren {Troglodytes parvulus). In this case also, a limited number of individuals appear to localise themselves, while the vast majority migrate, (n) Stonechat (Pratincola rubicold). The migratory impulse is distinctly less pronounced in this than in almost any other species of its order. Unquestionably this bird does cross the seas, having been recorded (seldom, it is true) at various sea-lights, as well as from Heligoland. The movements more frequently recorded are on our own west coast ; and these are prob- ably merely local or inter-insular. (12) Rock-Pipit (Anthus obscurus). Our local race shifts in autumn from the Fames, the Bass, and other rocky coasts where it has bred, to open shores and salt-grasses where it spends the winter. This race is stationary ; but there co- exists some clear evidence (from sea-lights) of a slight immigration from abroad. (13) Great Tit (Parus major). \ (14) Blue Tit (Parus cceruleus).) As with the robin, human kindness and winter-feeding have accentuated a latent sedentary tendency, producing, in individual cases, a state of semi-domestication that over-rides the migratory impulse. (15) Blackbird (Turdus merida). (16) Ringed Plover (sEgialitis hiaticula). I am far from sure whether it is right to include this species. Those birds which nest at Teesmouth, depart in autumn ; while at Holy Island, on the Northumbrian coast, they both breed and remain all the winter. These are all of the larger race : it is the smaller, called by Seebohm jE. h. minor, that is world-wide in its wanderings. (17) Heron (Ardea cinerea). Besides the few regular heronries that yet survive, these stately birds also nest (in threes and fours) in scattered patches of pine on the remotest moorlands. At these spots, herons are certainly stationary, fishing for trout in the neighbouring burnlets by day, STATIONARY SPECIES 151 and roosting all winter in their chosen pines. Yet there is distinct evidence of an over-sea movement — not heavy certainly, but systematic. (18) Mallard (Anas boscas). The local race which breeds on the moors, or wherever an acre or two of marsh-land is suffered to survive, can be distinguished at a glance from the immigrant foreigners by their extra bulk. For while the two races are of exactly the same expanse of wing, the native drake weighs from 3 to 34 lbs., the foreigner barely 2^ lbs. The latter, moreover, while here, confine themselves exclusively to the salt water, or its immediate neighbourhood : while the home- bred ducks hold to their native loughs, and never leave these till driven out by ice to the tide. [Note that, as regards validity of species, subspecies, or climatic varia- tions, I express no personal opinion. Such points are purely for systema- tists, who (having large series from distant localities for comparison) have differentiated as above.] CHAPTER XIII SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF THE TWELFTH The art and the practice of shooting- grouse over dogs have, within a generation, been so entirely superseded by "driving," that it may nowadays seem an anachronism even to refer to the earlier system. The reasons for the change are well known, and have been so often discussed that I will touch but lightly on them. Admittedly I regret the entire supersession of the hunting-dog : not because I dislike the substitute — driving (since the reverse is, in fact, the case) — but because I hold that the reasons for the supersession are, in many cases, unproven and insufficient, and chiefly because it has eliminated from moorland sport an intrinsically artistic feature, namely, the arts of hunting and of fieldcraft. These were, a generation ago, the pride of the moorland fowler, with marksmanship as a necessary complement ; nowadays it is marksmanship solely. The abandonment of clogs is defended on the ground that grouse can no longer be so approached : and on moors which are flat in contour, or where heather-burning* is so rigidly carried out as to leave absolutely no holding- covert, the contention is probably correct. On the Borders, however, there exist areas of moorland to which 152 SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF THE TWELFTH 153 neither of these conditions apply, and where the entire abandonment of the dog" is not necessary. Here, the wildest of grouse in August can be killed over dogs, even though they may rise — not once or twice, but half-a-dozen times — far beyond gunshot. This involves real hunting. It involves also, I admit, very hard work ; for the sportsman must follow up his game, and find it, again and again, till he eventually "dominates " and finally kills it — firstly, by virtue of, and in proportion with, the "dominion" that is in him, and secondly, by his control of sound and reliable dog-work. All this is quite out of touch with the modern ideal, when men seek greater results with less labour. Many, again, are incapacitated for success by their lack of sympathy with clogs. But neither circumstance affects the contention. If he found himself in a foreign country, say on African veld, in Scandinavian or Canadian backwood, the man who relied exclusively on brilliant marksmanship, might be at a loss to provide his own supper. The other would feed a camp. Be the change for better or for worse, modern innova- tions cannot certainly be held to have augmented the dignity or the status of moorland sport. Rather they tend to reduce what was formerly a craft to the level of a pastime — -hateful word ! A generation ago, years of apprenticeship were served on the hills. That is now no longer necessary, nor would the knowledge so acquired be of any practical use. Unless changes intervene, the evolved sportsman of another decade (or "Pompommer" as I may differentiate the new type), will conceivably be turned out, a finished article complete in every re- quisite qualification, "within thirty minutes of Piccadilly 154 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS Circus " — see the gunmakers' advertisements, which there appears no palpable reason to discredit. Nothing" derogatory to "driving," as such, is herein implied or intended. Driving becomes legitimate in proportion as game cannot otherwise be handled satis- factorily ; and, in such conditions, affords the smartest of shooting and a delightful phase of sport. The objec- tion is that it should be regarded and practised as the sole means, and resorted to when game can, and should, be obtained by field-craft instead of merely by marksman- ship. Driving, as a branch and an adjunct of the fowler's craft, was practised a century ago and more. In the many clever drawings of grouse-shooting in Weardale and Hexhamshire left by my grandfather, Joseph Craw- hall, are several that depict "drives." This was about 1820-30. There were no butts in those days: the gunners are concealed behind walls, or crouching in burns and in "brocks" or peat-ravines. In one of these drawings, it is interesting to add, a skein of wild-geese is shown coming overhead. Some of these formed the illustrations to my grand- father's Grouse-shooting; made Qtiite Easy, by "Geoffrey Gorcock," privately printed, though — according to the title-page — the book was ostensibly "published at Kilhope Cross — on August 12th, 1827." The said Kilhope Cross is one of the loftiest points of the northern moorland, being 2206 feet above sea-level and situate at the juncture of the three counties of Durham, Northumberland, and Cumber- land. Not far therefrom, namely, on Linesketh-fell, in Weardale, the present writer, two generations later, killed his first grouse on August 12th, 1866. It may be of interest to add that only at about the period named was game-preserving generally practised in SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF THE TWELFTH 155 the north. A local newspaper as late as August 29th, 1829, contains many notices stating- that the game on such- and-such a manor or moor is reserved, and requesting sportsmen to refrain from shooting thereon. What is the meaning of the word "wild" as applied to grouse in August? It is difficult to understand what degree of wildness is meant when one sees the expression appended to a report of several hundred birds having been shot. Perhaps it is merely a form of words used un- consciously to magnify the exploits or gratify the vanity of the shooters. Obviously, when grouse are really wild they cannot be killed by the hundred over dogs. By comparison with the numbers of people who flock to the moors in August, those who follow the sport of grouse-shooting throughout the season are few ; but, it is the latter alone who really know what wildness means. Yet in the August reports it has become almost a set phrase, " birds wild and strong on the wing," a frequent affix being " scent very bad." Now, the former can only mean that the young grouse are normally well-grown and rise boldly at 30 or 40 yards, or more, instead of "cheepers" which can be poked up from under a dog's nose. Young grouse hatched in mid- May are by the Twelfth three months old and, in the ordinary course of nature, are nearly full-grown, with their powers largely developed. Such birds have cast the soft spotted quills of their adolescence, and are acquiring the strong black primaries of winter, although still, on either side, will be found one or two of the spotted quills yet remaining among the new. (See remarks on this subject at p. 87.) Perhaps a streak of the yellow-barred nest- plumage yet remains along the centre of the breast, divid- 156 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS ing the newly-acquired dark feathers on either flank. At that stage, it is not reasonable to expect that a species so bold and intractable as Lagopus scoticus will lie cower- ing- in the heather till almost trodden on. The grouse is a finer bird than that ; nor is the sport of shooting him over dogs so simple and so artless. The covies must be followed again and again, out-manceuvered, broken, and finally killed in detail. This leads me to the second part of my text, the scent question ; for, undoubtedly, to find grouse time after time in so wide and wild a country as the moor- land, where marking" is often impossible, and where one cannot tell down which glen or along which hillside the grouse may have taken their course after disappearing from view, means good dogs. Well then! bad scent generally means bad dogs. True, there are days when the scent is bad, sometimes almost nil. But scent is always best to those dogs which best understand their business. The dogs themselves may not be intrinsically bad, and may be capable of doing- excellent work, if they are excellently handled. It is a moral certainty that a good man will have good dogs, simply because the former understands his business and the latter appreciate, that fact ; and, in proportion to their mutual self- confidence and reliance, so the directing power of mind in one is brought to bear on the instinctive faculties in the other. One sees many dogs which appear to regard a hunt on the moors as an institution specially arranged for their particular delectation. These travel far and fast, they are hunting one hillside while their owner is helplessly endeavouring to work another. For his wishes these canine assistants (?) care nothing. The keeper, with stentorian lungs and an ear-piercing whistle that SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF THE TWELFTH 157 might serve as a syren to wake the echoes on some fog- enveloped coast, endeavours to induce them to hunt the same grounds as his master, but in vain. That keeper is too late. The Twelfth of August is not the time for breaking dogs. There are, however, dogs (whether born or made) which realise the aim and the art of killing game. These understand that their first business is to assist their master to find it ; but they look to him for directions as to the best methods of doing so. Constant touch is thus maintained between dog and man. Dogs know when their work is critically and appreciatively watched, and when each touch on scent is at once observed and backed up by their master. They know, moreover, when it is not so. Thus such dogs become attentive to — indeed watching for — every signal by hand, say to hold wider out, to change course, to back another that is not in their sight, to pay special attention to likely bits, and so on. They will seldom hunt long out of sight, even when in hollows or irregular ground where one can only see a short distance. They instinctively take advantage of the wind, so that the sportsman can hunt practically in any direction, regardless of its airt. By spending near half his time walking away to leeward, so as to "give his dogs the wind " on the return-cast, a man evidences lack of grasp of the hunter's craft since he is depriving canine instinct of half its scope and value. Good dogs, in short, well handled, are utilising to the full every canine instinct and faculty in co-operation with their master's directing capacity, and in precise ratio therewith. As already mentioned, the wildest grouse in August can be dominated by persistent following. But, when once broken and partially demoralised, they are apt to lie, 158 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS and it then needs thoroughly useful dogs to find them again. This is best illustrated if one happens to be at the spot where such a covey stop, after being fired at. One hears the shot and, sitting down, presently sees a straggling line of grouse top the ridge and dip down the sloping glen. Suddenly one of them stops — appears to dive headlong into a patch of long heather within twenty yards of the ridge. The rest hurry on, closely hugging the heather, till, at the bottom, three more wheel sidelong to the right and tumble themselves headlong into the covert, all scattered and apparently careless as to how they alight. The rest swerve in their flight, taking a second glen. Fifty yards up this, down plumps another, then another — now the remaining three are lost to sight. One sits still and waits patiently, knowing that our friend, whom we will call " Syren," will be following up. Presently he appears. He has already walked right past number one, and numbers two to four, before his dogs have appeared on the scene. When they do come, it is a wild rush — a few wide gallops. There is no systematic hunting, such as is here essential to find lying birds. Syren passes close to the first birds, but misses that lateral glen on his right, where, as we have seen, the second lot are lying. He remarks that they "must have gone on" and himself does likewise. Then, one can pick up in half-an-hour three or four brace of fine young grouse on the ground where friend Syren has only had a long shot at the old cock. Now, walking about a moor with a gun and a dog thus, is not grouse-shooting; but, if Syren happens to report his bag, he will probably add that stereotyped phrase, "Grouse wild and strong on the wing," etc No one can fairly dispute his ingenuousness, for he is totally unconscious of having again and again walked SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF THE TWELFTH 159 right past lying grouse ; while, if he also blames the scent, he is quite innocent of his own ignorance in handling dogs. Grouse-shooting over dogs is essentially single-handed work. No two guns can conceivably succeed, shooting over the same dog or dogs. It is the pre-ordained failure of every such attempt that is partially accountable for the disfavour into which the hunting-dog has fallen on the moors. Partridge-shooting over dogs with two or three guns in line is simple enough : but on the moors the problem is totally different. In the former case, among the enclosed fields of the lowlands, mostly rectangular, of small and defined sizes, and with a monotony of crop, any part of which is as good as any other — since there is no individuality in a turnip — the system of march- ing, wheeling, and counter-marching serves well enough. But, no such system can avail on wild moorland, un- enclosed, irregular in form and in its likelihood, or "smittleness" : and where individual judgment in direct- ing the dogs is ceaselessly necessary, and the gunner's immediate ideas and objects in view are ever changing. The gunner must be absolutely free and unhampered in following any new line that may suggest itself. To be attached, as it were, to any second or third gun is as bad as having a clog to his leg, and perpetually thwarts his ability to seize each momentary advantage and oppor- tunity. A man thus attached, has abandoned his initiative — the one essential quality without which all personal skill is paralysed. I wish to lay stress on this ; since never, otherwise, can the pleasures of grouse-shooting to dogs be truly realised. To walk up grouse in line and at same time to run dogs, is to attempt two distinct systems which are essen- tially incompatible — that is, with such dogs as I ever 160 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS have in mind — fast, far-ranging- setters. A slow, pottering pointer might serve, in a way, for such work ; but it is at best a makeshift, and under no circumstances can such combination either satisfy or succeed. Either the dog must be neglected, or, alternatively, the whole formation is thrown into confusion at every passing- "touch" on scent. The employment of the hunting-dog is not advocated as affording an easier means of killing game. Quite the contrary. As compared with driving, the ratio of results to labour is reversed ; while nothing less than years of practice will ensure a fair degree of skill in fieldcraft. To enter into detail is beyond the scope of this book ; but readers desiring fuller information may be referred to an excellent little work, The Scientific Education of Dogs fo7" the Gun, by H. H. (London : Sampson, Low & Co.). It is a very prevalent but erroneous belief that grouse feed twice a day. This is not so. Grouse only feed in earnest towards the evening. The birds, no doubt, lend some grounds to the supposition by their habits of "flighting" at daybreak and by their frequenting the short "feeding-heather" during the earlier hours of the day.1 But that they are not feeding can easily enough be proved. Open the crops of a dozen grouse at 8 a.m. ; they will be found empty, except perhaps for a few heather-shoots, or rush-seeds, picked up in idleness or for amusement. There will also be found a few bits of gravel or sand, taken to aid digestion. But the crops of grouse killed at dusk are choke-full of heather — an old cock will contain a breakfast-cupful. I mention this point to 1 These remarks refer exclusively to heather-fed grouse, since my experi- ence does not extend to those which, by the proximity of oat-stubbles, have been "educated up" to a corn diet. SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF THE TWELFTH 161 show that any strategic operations based on the assump- tion that grouse will be on the feed in the early morning-, are undertaken erroneously, but chiefly to show the advisability of holding in reserve till evening a full propor- tion of "going power," both human and canine. Then, in the closing hours of the day, this reserve can be brought into action most effectively. The birds, when scattered on the feed, are easier to find, lie closer, and are more apt to rise separately ; thus each covey may perhaps yield several brace, and between 5 and 7 p.m. a modest bag may be converted into a heavy one by the sportsman who knows how to bide his time. It is right to add that in the Badminton Library (" Shooting : Moor and Marsh," p. 3), exception is taken to the above remarks. The author, Lord Walsingham, one of the first authori- ties of the day, questions rather than disputes their accuracy, holding that the evidence adduced does not amount to proof. Possibly to that extent his contention is correct, but I leave the statement as it stood, being, by long and close observation, satisfied of its accuracy as regards Northumberland — with this addition. A game- keeper of wide experience on the Borders, and one on whose statement I place reliance, assures me that grouse, in summer and up to August, do feed at dawn ; but so extremely early that one must be on the moor at 3.30 a.m. to find them with crops filled. I leave it to others to put this assertion to matutinal proof. Later in the year, when days have shortened, it is certainly not the case. To older grouse-shooters, these few random notes will no doubt appear trite enough ; but nowadays, all have not that old-time experience, and it is a pre- valent mistake to regard dogs (if used at all) as L 162 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS automata, and grouse-shooting as merely an affair of so many hours' walking on the heather. Possibly, a perusal of these few hints may prove of some advantage to another generation, to some of whom the Twelfth often brings only the chagrin of fallen pride. CHAPTER XIV NOTES ON GROUSE-DISEASE So many able scientists and experienced observers have discussed the question of grouse-disease, and so many theories have been promulgated — though none of them are apparently conclusive, at least as to the remedy — that the author only proposes to give some notes of his personal experience of the disease. One circumstance appears to be invariable, and to be the inevitable precursor of disease, viz., a heavy stock of grouse^ — it may not be the cause, but is certainly the accompaniment. Every instance that I have myself known has occurred after a period of plenty. Indeed cycles are almost regular in their sequence, though intervals vary. Different areas of moorland vary in their capacity of sustaining a head of grouse. Thus, on a hill-range of the Scottish highlands, each acre may accommodate several grouse ; while, in the lowlands, or in Northumberland, one grouse to several acres may be a full stock. But each moorland area has its fixed capacity ; and whatever the local maximum may be, if it be exceeded, disease, in my experience, has followed. This variation in grouse-producing, or sustaining 164 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS power, is exemplified in the north of England by the immense head of game which, in favourable years, is attained in North Yorkshire and on the adjoining- moors of Durham. The deep peat-deposits and rich heather of Teesdale in Yorkshire, and of the Weardale hills lying adjacent in the county of Durham, are infinitely more prolific of grouse than are the more alluvial moors of Northumberland extending northwards thence, along and beyond the Scottish border. In these latter, the peat is poorer and the heather of less luxuriant growth, alternating with stretches of white grass, rush, and fern. Moorlands of this character, though eminently suitable for black- game — of which they are, in fact, the stronghold — are distinctly inferior as regards red grouse. Where both these species of game are found together, the power of man to increase abnormally the head of grouse is limited. It is not till the Scottish highlands are reached that we find repeated on the solid heather of Perthshire and Aberdeen, some approach to the phenomenal fecundity of Wemmergill and Blubberhouses. Man, it seems certain, is the chief cause of grouse- disease through his tampering with Nature's balance, and with the economic conditions of wild-life on the moor- land. Nature fixed a normal stock and designed her own checks upon the undue fecundity of the Tetraonidce. She designed the peregrine and buzzard, harrier and merlins specially to hunt the moors. Man determined to have all the hunting himself, and removed Nature's safeguards. When the above - named birds of prey day by day examined every acre of fell and Howe, both the superabundance of healthy birds and the sickly, if ever the symptoms of disease had appeared, were removed. The disease, as a matter of fact, appears to NOTES ON GROUSE-DISEASE 165 have been unknown till the commencement of the recent century.1 But now, we have changed all that. Game-preservation and vermin-trapping" have instituted a new balance of life. The harrier, the buzzard, and the falcon have gone ; the hill-fox and weasel are held in check. Thus, the stock of grouse has been abnormally increased, and is maintained ever close along the margin of that dividing line beyond which Nature has decreed it shall not go. Once that line is passed, she reasserts her supremacy, repels our interference, and disease sweeps bare the heath-clad hills. The system, or to be precise (as regards the Borders), the lack of system on which heather-burning is now carried on, is probably a factor in the problem of disease. Heather-burning, rationally conducted, is necessary and even essential to the well-being of the plant, and equally so to the interests both of sheep and grouse alike. To ensure the best economic results, heather should be burnt in sections and in regular rotation of about seven years. But how often one sees a whole hill in a blaze ; the fire, destroying good and bad growth alike, utterly beyond all available control (say, a couple of shepherds), and free to burn at its own fierce will, subject only to any vagrant shift in the direction or force of the wind. There follows on such careless haphazard methods a loss and a wastage, the price of which remains to be made good in one way or another. The question of whether heather-burning is or is not 1 The first recorded outbreak of disease appears to have occurred in the Reay forest, in Sutherland, in 1815 {Zoologist, 1887, p. 302). There would be little human interference then. In 1766, at a meeting of owners and others interested in grouse-moors in Northumberland, it was proposed to restrict the shooting that year ; but whether the scarcity of grouse was then due to disease or otherwise, I am unaware. 166 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS injurious to grouse, is negatived by the experience of Yorkshire, where the burning" — or, as I would rather put it, the cultivation— of the heather is now carried on to an extent and on systematic methods formerly unknown ; yet without causing injury to the plant, while the grouse- stock has been largely increased. Any straining of Nature's gifts to the utmost must tend towards deteriora- tion in both products, rendering them more susceptible to injurious influences and less able to resist their attacks. But systematic burning, carefully carried out, involves no straining. The tastes and requirements of grouse, as regards heather, do not differ from those of sheep ; and therefore no conflict of interests can arise. Black-faced sheep are supposed to live where Cheviots or any other would starve. That is (being interpreted), the former can, when forced thereto by sheer necessity, retain the life in them by a starvation subsistence on dried heather- stalks, or by grubbing down into the roots. But that char- acter in the black-faces is not spontaneous on their part — far from it ; they relish young heather and sweet grass as much as other breeds. But the character named is one which is to-day (in parts) pushed to extremes. There may be flockmasters who will dispute this and say that I know nothing of sheep. Quite true. But anyone knows healthy and vigorous heather, and can distinguish between it and those melancholy areas where the plant has had the very heart eaten out of it — where the once lovely moorland, instead of being clad in Nature's beauteous and bountiful growth, has become (to my eye) hideous in its mangy remnant of what was heather, all contorted and gnawed to death. Such conditions may suit black-faced sheep : but if so, NOTES ON GROUSE-DISEASE 1G7 those animals differ from every other living- creature on this earth. My personal conviction is that the system is wrong- for sheep also, and that, before many years have passed, it will be found as unsound as it is short-sighted. Enjoyment by anticipation entails repay- ment in tribulation, and with interest on the compound scale. " That result follows on the working" of Nature's own laws of equivalents and equilibrium. There are moorlands on the Border which, to my eye, are "eaten" years ahead of the times. But the check will come, and then there will be longer and wearier years to wait while " the times " creep up abreast again. A frequent happening- may be described thus : — The burning- of the heather is neglected, or forgotten, till the plant has grown almost too old for burning with safety at all — tall, woody, and shrublike.1 Heather of that age, when burnt, naturally requires years to recuperate and re-estab- lish itself on a sound, vigorous basis. But no such chance is given it. The burnt ground is at once stocked with the close-cropping black-faces — because they are capable of living upon nothing — with the result already indicated. Cases such as these convey to outside observers an idea of carelessness and laxity that seems radically wrong. In the more precise forms of industry, "slovenliness" would be the only adequate epithet. Heather is a plant of high economic value, and that fact needs fuller recognition. There is no fault, inherent or implied, in the black-faced sheep. On the contrary, that breed has its own special qualities which, used with discretion, have their value. For example, when crossed with Border Leicesters, the mutton is of the best ; and the very character named — 1 There are, of course, years of snow and heavy rainfall which render heather-burning impossible at its proper season. 168 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS that of "hard living" — when properly utilised, is of supreme importance in a wild upland region. It is the abuse of that character that I deplore. Healthy, vigor- ous heather-growth means healthy, vigorous sheep— and grouse. The converse follows axiomatically. The circumstances I have feebly attempted to portray, incident- ally cast a sidelight on economic conditions that affect not only sheep and grouse, but almost all wild-life within the highlands defined. They affect also (though that may count for nothing) the natural beauty of the country. In addition to careless burning and overstocking, evils which are avoidable, the heather - crop is also necessarily subject to climatic vicissitudes, which affect both the plant and all creatures dependent upon it for support. Cold wet summers mean bad bloom and feeble frondage, while early autumnal frosts blight the seed before it is fully ripe, reducing both the quantity of the crop and also its nutritive qualities, with corresponding detriment to the sheep and grouse that feed on it. While I write this chapter, appears a thoughtful article on the subject in The Field (July 28th, 1906), wherein Mr J as. W. Barclay thus summarises the conclusions he has arrived at on the Glenbucket moors in Aberdeenshire : — - "(1) A late and ungenial summer with frosted heather and heather-seed, is followed by grouse-disease. " (2) A prolonged severe winter, with frozen snow, kills or causes grouse to migrate, but is not attended or followed by disease. " (3) A large stock of grouse does not cause disease. "(4) With a succession of fine seasons, the stock of grouse, notwithstanding hard shooting, steadily increases. "(5) Disease has never appeared when there has been a good crop of oats." NOTES ON GROUSE-DISEASE 1G0 Clause No. 3 above, as drawn, may appear to con- flict with my own conclusions, but I have certainly not stated the contrary. Grouse-disease, so far as it has come under my obser- vation, is referable to two distinct types. One, the most common, is the lingering form, slow in operation, which gradually reduces its victims to mere skeletons, when they die of emaciation. The symptoms of the malady in this form are, first in the grouse affected seeking lower ground, especially along burnsides and wet spots, often right down into the valleys where sound birds are never seen ; and, secondly, in the change of plumage, which loses its glossy sheen and fades to a dull, dingy hue, most unhealthy- looking to a practised eye. The legs and feet at the same time lose the feathery "stockings," becoming bare and naked. It should, however, here be expressly added that this symptom, though easy enough to diagnose during late autumn and winter, may induce deception in August ; for, at that season, owing to the moult, both the plumage and the "stockings" of grouse (and all other birds) are worn, washed out, and threadbare. The other type of disease is subtle, instant in opera- tion, and less easy to foresee. Its approach is not per- ceptible, for it comes as a thief in the night. In 1884 we had, in Northumberland, an irruption of this sudden form of disease, of which the following were the salient features. We had heard during the spring intermittent reports of the appearance of disease in various quarters and particu- larly on certain specified moors. After the abundant season of 1883, grouse-shooters were nervously appre- hensive of what might occur ; but, up to the middle of June, their fears were certainly baseless, and (at least on 170 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS the writer's ground) there was no evidence to indicate the approach of disease. During- the spring, I had detected no signs of anything serious, at least nothing worse than an old bird or two " found dead," and early in June I examined the ground carefully. Nothing could well appear more favourable. The young broods had hatched out in great numbers, and many could already (on June ist) fly 200 yards or more ; the majority, however, were still in various stages of down. A few nests still contained eggs, which I noticed were rather less richly coloured than average grouse eggs ; but nearly all hatched out subsequently, except a few, which were almost colourless. In the middle of June I had a favourable report from the keeper, who wrote that he thought "the disease has now quite stopped as I have seen none new dead lately." So matters ran on for a whole month and more. But the line had been passed ; and at the end of July there broke out a disease whose virulence devastated the hills, and in less than a fortnight the stock of grouse was decimated. Here is the keeper's report of August 5th : "I am sorry to say the prospects for the Twelfth are very bad indeed. The black ground by all means worst, as that was sure to be when disease comes. Mixed ground is always best off. I was out yesterday with the dogs. I found the young birds dying, great big, good birds. I opened some and it is the real disease — their livers affected." The outward symptoms of the disease in this acute form were not easy to recognise when shooting began in August, for the physical condition of the grouse hardly afforded a criterion, and many birds which were undoubtedly affected retained the full plump breast and thighs. The NOTES OX GROUSE-DISEASE 171 proportion of emaciated rleshless grouse with protruding breast-bone, was insignificant. Nor was plumage in this case any more reliable as an indication ; it is, of course, as just stated, always worn and dull at this season, but keepers, when disease occurs in August, usually forget this (or do not know it), and ascribe the washed-out appearance of old birds exclusively to disease. From these and other reasons, I infer that this particular form of disease is no lingering illness, but one which cuts its victims down sharply before they have time to lose plumage or plumpness. In that year (1884), I was a little deceived by appear- ances on the Twelfth, for at first birds seemed tolerably numerous and signs of disease but few. Between three and four o'clock I had fired my last cartridge (since we had taken out less than an ordinary supply) and had twelve brace of grouse, a teal, and a couple of golden plover — a fair bag on that ground in an average year. There remained some of the best hours of the day, and I felt sure (had cartridges lasted) of getting twenty brace. Certainly the reports about disease appeared to have been exaggerated, but the next time we went over this ground, the true state of the case became conspicuously apparent. With no lack of cartridges and along day, I only managed to put together five and a half brace, and these all old birds. Of young broods, there were simply none. The young had evidently been the first to succumb. Many of the old were also affected, though without showing much external evidence. So matters remained throughout August and September. But the disease appeared to have been local, and had not perhaps affected any very great extent of ground ; for, during October, on the general movement or redistribution 172 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS of grouse which annually occurs in that month, our stock shortly rose to a normal level, and continued so during the rest of the season. As the subject of "vermin" has been alluded to as a factor in the production of disease, the following statistics, showing roughly the results of their depredations on moorland game, together with the benefits that accrue by their reduction, may appropriately be inserted here. The figures show the game killed on the same ground during two equal periods — (i) without trapping at all, and (2) with regular trapping all the year round : — Game killed. (1) Pe«o