Smithsonian Institution ibrartes Alexander Wetmore 1940 ae 1953 ay Dw “THE LAND BIRDS IN AND AROUND ST ANDREWS, INCLUDING A CONDENSED HISTORY OF THE BRITISH LAND BIRDS, WITH EXTRACTS FROM THE POETS AND Observations and Anecdotes on Natural History. BY GEORGE BRUCE, Author of ‘ Destiny, and other Poems,” “ Reminiscences St Andrews Bay,” “ Poems and Songs,” Wit HSONIAA ** Birds and beasts, And the mute fish that glances in the str And harmiess reptiles coiling in the sun, And gorgeous insects hovering in the air— The fowl domestic, and the household dog, LIBRARIES Tn his capacious mind he loved them all; Their rights acknowledging, he felt for all.” — Wordsworth. DUNDEE: PRINTED BY JOHN LENG & CO., BANK STREET. 1895. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 2 J ’ 1 Se Sai gcse _ Sao ad | ) aoa : i So Ge LI ah ade yaaa ~~ i) ele esl i weree ay i ae ‘ +) Atos ms PREFACE. THE origin of this little work dates as far back as January 1855, when attending Dr Day’s lectures (by invitation) in the United College, for in one of my notes written at that time the following reason is given :— ‘Having bought some books on Natural History, and finding the store from which the lectures are taken, it is waste of time to write them from memory. I will go on collecting shells, crabs, eggs, birds, and birds’ skins, and refer to these books to tell me their names and habits—my object being to collect most of the shells, birds’ eggs, and birds found in Britain. Without a beginning there cannot be an end, so I now begin to follow up this pursuit, and, with good health, expect to find both success and happiness, which the mere pleasure-hunter, idler, or gossiper can never realise.” Another early note of March 1856 says: ‘“ These notes are simply a conglomeration of observations and facts which have come under my notice—hastily and without order set down at different times—but, although they may appear redundant, still something useful can be taken out of them, as their intention is merely to provide a kind of store for future use—not meant to be read otherwise than as a sort of granary of facts, to be culled at leisure’—hence this book. There is enough material for a second volume, on “The Water Birds”—which may yet appear in print. Dean Stanley, when preaching in Westminster Abbey, on “Honest doubt and inquiry,” said: ‘The invectives of Jesus were never directed against honest inquiry—or even honest Iv. PREFACE. doubt, but against double-mindedness, against selfishness, and against religious hypocrisy—these were the sins He most abhorred.” He also said, “If any of those present had devoted themselves to science, if any of them were students, in any sense, of science, students of nature, students of language, students of history, students of theology—if to any of them truth seemed to be the leading pole-star of their life—hbe they there or be they away from church or abbey, they were—consciously or unconsciously—willingly or unwillingly, labouring in the service of Christ and truth.” ‘* Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait.”— Longfellow. G. B. St ANDREWS, 1895. ERRATA. At pages 13 and 17 for Temnick, read Temminck. At page 386 ,, winter, read summer. eyo 6 », who, read which. ig) OLO 5, two before, read two toes before. At pages 254 and 255 ,, 1891, 1889, read 1881, 1879. CONTENTS. Introduction Moulting Migration Flight oe Classification and Nomenclature ... Technical Names Divisions—Land and Water Birds OrpeR I.—Raptores or Tearers Synoptical Table of the fi The Vultures : : The Sociable Vulture ... Griffon Vulture. Egyptian Se as Falconide ; Golden Eagle .. Sea Eagle Osprey Goshawk ... Sparrow Hawk Gyr Falcon foe Falcon inten Leeed Falcon Kestrel... Merlin Common Buzzard . Rough-Legged Buzzard Honey Buzzard .. Marsh Harrier or Moor Buzzard Hen Harrier Ash-Coloured Harrier .. Kite or Glead bi Swallowtailed Kite The Owls... Great Horned or Eagle Owl Long-Eared Owl ... Short-Eared Owl ; Scops-Eared Owlet or Little Owl Snowy or Day Owl __.... / Barn Owl : Tawny Owl Ba geaine s Night Owl Little Night Owl OrveER II.—Incessores or shied Saat aie gs Common Bee-EKater Garrulous Roller ... Red-Fronted Swallow .. White-Rumped Swallow Sand Martin ... Vi. CONTENTS. Common Swift Goatsucker Kingfisher ... ee Spotted Flycatcher Pied Flycatcher Grey Shrike ve Red-Backed Shrike ... Wood Shrike Missel Thrush Fieldfare Song Thrush Redwing * Blackbird _... Mountain Blackbird — Kuropean Dipper Golden Oriole. Wheatear Whin-Chat Stone-Chat . Redbreast ‘ Common Redstart Tithys and Blue-Throated Redstarts _ Grasshopper Warbler Sedge Warbler ... Reed Warbler Nightingale ce Black-Cap Warbler ... Garden Warbler Common Whitethroat Lesser Whitethroat Dartford Warbler Chiff-Chaff - Yellow Wood Wren .. Willow Wren _... Gold-Crested Regulus Ox-Kye Tit or Greater Tit Blue Tit Marsh Tit Cole Lit ..1. Long-Tailed Tit Crested Tit Bearded Tit Hedge Sparrow Pied Wagtail _... Grey and White Wagtail — Grey and Yellow vane ail Rock Pipit .. ue Meadow Pipit Tree Pipit Sky Lark Wood Lark ... Snow Flake Corn Bunting Yellow Bunting Reed Bunting House Sparrow ... Tree Sparrow Chattnch CONTENTS. Mountain Finch Siskin se Goldfinch Brown Linnet Mountain Linnet . Lesser Redpoll ud Grosbeak or Hawfinch | : Greenfinch or Green Linnet Common Crossbill .. Parrot Crossbill Pine Bullfinch : Common Bulitinch Common Starling ... Rose-Coloured Pastor ... Raven mae Carrion Crow ... Hooded Crow eke... Jackdaw ... Magpie Jay < Cornish Chough Nutcracker Green Woodpecker ne Great Black Woodpecker ... Greater Spotted Woodpecker Lesser Spotted Woodpecker Wryneck or Ant Eater Nuthatch . , Common Creeper Common Wren Hoopce Cuckoo Orper ITI.—Rasores or Scrapers Synoptical Table of Order III. Ring Dove . Stock Dove or Wood Dove Rock Dove Turtle Dove Common Pheasant Capercailzie or Wood Grouse Black Grouse . Red Grouse or Ptarmigan ass Common or Grey Ptarmigan Sand Grouse Common or Grey Par tridge Red Partridge dag Quail .. ; Great Bustard _ Little Bustard Leo DL CT LON. bo God” (or by Nature’s law) “ we live and move, and have our being.” And Coleridge truly says— ‘** He prayeth well who loveth well Both man and bird and beast ; He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small. For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all.” And Robert Burns as truly says— *¢ The heart, benevolent and kind, The most resembles God.” But it all depends upon each one’s conception of what God is. For instance, the great German scientist, Humboldt, who spent a large fortune and a long life in scientific pursuits, broadly declared that our world was governed by universal /aw—not by a God; but, touching upon the inconceivable greatness of infinity, or the unsearchable origin of Nature, we may all say with the wise Athenian, Socrates, ‘‘ All we know is—nothing can be known.” Therefore, on such questions, like Pope, I am *¢ Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.” Agreeing with Burns that— ** The Great Creator to revere Must sure become the creature ; But still the preaching cant forbear, And e’en the rigid feature.” The object of this little work is Truth, having passed through the sieve of the writer’s own observations, or from carefully- weighed data—the best finger-posts on the road which leads to the study of Natural History. But, first, I will give a sketch of the system upon which scientific works are based, with an outline of genera, families, B 10 INTRODUCTION. and orders, nomenclature, moulting, migration, &c.; also a description of some birds xot found around St Andrews, seldom even in Britain ; but as they are included in the list of ‘‘ British Birds” in most of our works on ornithology (at the risk of being a little inconsistent), I have introduced here—along with a smattering of information regarding the assumed systems, circles, families, and affinities of the various species, as an introduction to the lighter and more original design of the book—bearing always in mind that species only exist in the eternal order of Nature; and, as my object is to give information, and a desire to tell what I know from personal observation, it may be useful (in its unassuming way) to those who wish to study ornithology—not only as a science, but as a pleasant occupation when walking by the lonely shore, the wimpling burn and broomy knowe, or the many lovely bye-paths around us, face to face with Nature herself, reading the open pages of her ever-perfect book, or listening to the varied but general harmony from this interesting portion of her creatures ; for there is a ring of cheerfulness in the ever-welcome springtide whistle of the blackbird, and in the songs of the mavis, the linnet, and the lark; in the merry “ chink, chink, chink”—not of gold, but of the lively, lovely chaffinch ; in the exhilarating “chicka, chicka-chee” of the active, little cole-tit ; and in the plaintive “chilly, lilie, lillie-poo” of the yellow- hammer; and more or less in all our feathered friends, not to be found in any other branch of Natural History. And if we want types of courage or ferocity, affection or solitude, where better exemplified than by the falcon or the hawk, or the golden eagle, the cooing dove, or in the eerie hooting of the solitary owl ? very phase of characteristic is more varied and attractive in the birds than in any other portion of creation (except man), for, although there are many different kinds of birds—from the little cave-seeking jenny-wren of the brambles to the soaring condor of the Andes—there are still more different kinds of men. There are human hawks and doves, eagles and geese, swallows and snipes, parrots and owls, jackdaws and peacocks, creepers and gulls, gulliemots and grouse, sparrows and larks, cormorants and humming-birds, fly-catchers and divers, and every species of worth and worthlessness the dictionary can express—all classed in the one rank and file of man, who is, like the Yankee, the lord of creation ; at least, such is the feeling of the writer after fifty years’ observation and notes. THE POETS AND BIRDS. 11 I also find, after careful research, that our poets, especially Burns and Shakespeare, drew more illustrations from birds than any other class. No doubt an amorous tom-cat, perched upon some old dyke or outhouse roof, in a courting mood, emitting his dismally energetic midnight serenade of caterwauling; or lonely, masterless dog, sitting howling on a rock by the sea-shore, with his nose pointed at the moon (like melancholy Jacques), do make some pitiful attempts at whistling or singing—at least howling—like an ill-bred cur in a drawing-room adding his unwelcome chorus to the high notes of the piano—but all miserable failures at the best. The frog is even worse, when sitting by the side of a swamp, with his head in the air, like a parson, enjoying his evening croak. The merry whistle of the guinea-pig, and the sweet notes of the little field-mouse, come much nearer the shape of a song than any other quadrupeds I know—especially the latter, which often lilts its low, sweet echo of music for half-an-hour at a time. And, as for musical insects—with the exception of the solitary squeak of the forbidding death’s-head moth I know of none—for the hum of the bee and the drone of the shard-borne beetle are caused by the rapid motion of the wings—not by the voice. You hear the little house-fly buzzing past, and Sir John Lubbock tells us that those busy little wings make 21,120 vibrations in a minute. A clever naturalist, named Marey, con- trived an ingenious mechanism by which each vibration of the wing made a distinct mark, and ascertained that there were generally about 330 strokes in a second. I am sure you will look upon the little fly with more interest and respect when you know what efforts it costs to make a buzz—the music of the fly. This instrumental method of producing sounds explains some things that filled our grandmothers with dread. A ghostly sound that used to alarm the watchers around the sick-bed— _asure sign that death was near—is, it. seems, produced by the male and female death-watch tapping their heads when courting —more a sign of marriage than death. So this is another tiny insect, quarter of an inch long, that fain would be a musician. Fishes are no better, for, with the exception of the doleful crooning of the dying crooner, or groaner, as the gurnard is called, and the most unmusical blowing of the porpoise or whale, I cannot tax my memory to mention a musical fish——unless it be the horribly suggestive sound from the snapping of the jaws of 12 INTRODUCTION. the shark, and the slapping of the tail of the cod, or the lively “dirl” in the boat of the new-caught flounder or skate. But all miserable—most miserable apologies for music, compared with the notes of our cheerful choristers of the grove or sky. Nor is the rattle of the snake or the hiss of the serpent one whit better for adding to the musical harmony of the world— ‘the braying of the ass or grunting of the swine being still less so, although the shriek of the poor pig just before death is a desperate attempt at the higher notes; but still a failure—a discordant failure after all. The gentle whinny of the affectionate mare or shrill neigh of the hardy Shetland stallion come nearer to what might be forced into the ranks of music—and I may add the gentle bleating of the lamb and the low soothing purr of the kitten ; but scared music flies away when we think of the dreadful roar of the lion or the dismal howl of the wolf—not to speak of the fiend-like laugh of the hyena. None of them—no, not even the guttural grunt of the intelligent elephant, can reconcile my mind into the belief that any one of them can approach the very outskirts of the sweet notes of the blackbird, the mavis, the lintie, or the lark. But as it isnot so much the musical qualities of our feathered friends as their general habits I wish to write about, I had better begin to tell what I know about them, and in the order generally followed by our standard ornithologists. Those who wish to study ‘‘tracheas, entrails, and vents,” had better consult Dr Macgillivray’s very useful but rather prolix work on the “British Birds,” which extends to five large and important volumes—a work, however, whose chief feature struck me as being to suck the good out of previous authors, adding what he knew personally, with the new feature of a minute description and measurements of tracheas, gizzards, and entrails of the birds -—a perfectly legitimate and useful mode of authorship if less egotistically done, as we must all learn from others as well as from the open book of Nature—even in poetry and song, witness the many fine lyrics so wisely and so well collected and im- proved by our national bard, Robert Burns; but he did not borrow from and improve upon the work of his predecessors, then cavil at them for what they had done. After devoting fourteen pages of foolscap describing the pharynx, gullet, glottis, trachea, olfactory nerves, &c., the learned Doctor winds up by sayine—“ Observations like these may appear unnecessary to the persons who view birds merely MACGILLIVRAY. 13 as composed of skin and feathers, but to them I now cease from addressing myself ; they will gradually disappear from the earth, and their place will be occupied by men who will study birds as organic beings.” Like himself, of course ; but what sane person disputes that a bird is an organic being? The golden eagle, for instance, has been called by him ‘a magnificent, noble-looking bird,” but strip him of his skin and feathers and he would be a poor, sad-looking figure indeed !—notwithstanding the length of his intestinal canal or thickness of gizzard. But who would ever dream of estimating the character of ‘a magnificent noble- looking organic being” (including man) by the length of his duodenum or size of his rectum ? And what I think is still more objectionable —-the labours of old and standard naturalists are ungenerously shoved aside after having laid the basis, as it were, of ornithology; and after our very careful and minute, not to say immaculate author, had used and was done with them. For instance, he says—‘“I do not profess to add a new system to the many already in partial use, or that have passed away like their authors. Those of Linneus, Latham, Blumenbach, Illiger, Viellot, Temnick, and Cuvier may all be said to be extinct, for none of these worthies can muster half-a-dozen followers at the present day.” Now this is very disrespectful to the memory of such eminent naturalists as Linneus, Cuvier, and the rest, to say the least of it, unless their names are only introduced to show the erudition of our learned historian. Not content with this, he casts another stone at them by saying—“ Indeed, their systems were never generally adopted even in a single country in Europe. Methods spring up and die like mushrooms, and for the same reason :—-They are composed of flimsy and unsubstantial materials, easily elaborated, and have no solid frame to give them stability ; they fall suddenly into decay, withered by the breath of criticism, which but serves to invigorate that which is possessed of real stamina.” Meaning, of course, his own. Now, I cannot help entering my protest against this, both on behalf of the labours of our old authors, and also against such expressions that anything connected with Nature or Natural History is composed of “ flimsy or unsub- stantial materials”—no, not even the mere classification of species. These old naturalists were as anxious—though, perhaps, not so able as Dr Macgillivray, in their study of Nature—and as earnest in their desire to give the world the benefit of their 14 INTRODUCTION. labours and researches as he was, and it is not justifiable for any writer, however gigantic in mental capacity, thus to treat the labours of his predecessors rowing in the same boat. He is always raving about “ previous authors,” ‘‘ Cockney sportsmen,” “parlour naturalists,” “museums,” and “ dried skins” of birds. But I am much mistaken if these have not constituted the chief materials from which his own voluminous leaves have been culled. One instance more and I have done sympathizing with the ‘‘ effete and extinct works” of such fine old authors as Linneus and Cuvier, as well as the “ carpet naturalists ” of modern times, who had the audacity to publish their works contrary to the more correct system of Dr Macgillivray. Some poor fellow had the temerity to draw a distant comparison between the snout of a nasua and the bill of the avocetta ; the proboscis of an elephant and the bill of a snipe ; the horn of a Highland bullock and a game-cock’s spur, when our learned friend was down upon him like a cartload of bricks. He grandiloquently asks—‘“ Is it not cruel, after all, to shoot birds for mere sport?” Then answers his own query—‘‘ Per- haps it is so. Some kill birds for food ; and, I suppose, they do right. Others slaughter them to make money ; and, possibly, they, too, are blameless. Some shoot for study, and some to supply the naturalists and the museum with specimens. Con- sider what would become of us if we had no skins. All the Binary, Ternary, and Quinary arrangements ; the rank and file extensions ; the Circular, Inosculant, Anatomising, Normal, and Aberrant delineations would never have existed had there been no skins to arrange on the carpet. Without skins for comparison how could the marvellous discovery have been made that the ‘snout of a nasua and the avocetta were as like as possible, con- sidering that one is a quadruped and the other a bird?’ The proboscis of an elephant you could hardly conceive to be the counterpart of a snipe’s bill, nor the horn of a Highland bullock that of a game-cock’s spur ; nor can I comprehend how a heavy, short-winged black grouse should ‘ represent, in its own circle,’ the light aérial long: pinioned swallow, merely because both have a forked tail. Buta real systematist thinks no more of swallowing a palpable absurdity than a boa constrictor does of engulphing a curly-headed nigger—poor fellow!” No doubt the worthy Doctor thought this a marvellous stroke of satire against the well-meaning, but igorant, ‘‘ systematiser,” who studied “ all his Natural History from dried skins on a carpet,” and “ swallowed LINNAUS. 15 absurdities as easily as boa constrictors swallow curly-headed niggers ”"—a feat, by the way, not so very easily done. He winds up his satire by saying—‘“‘ As to the persons who shoot birds for mere sport, all I can say of them is, that they are mere sportsmen” (of course). ‘I have known very good men among them, and bad ones too.” (No doubt of it.) But what informa- tion is there in this to those who wish to know the habits and the history of birds ? I do not pretend to squeeze the subject to death—like a mole in the clutch of a golden eagle ; but, as simplicity is my aim, ‘I shall deal chiefly with each /ndividual species, for, we may say, such only truly exists in the order of Nature, and content myself with classifying in the fewest possible divisions, and in the plainest possible language, adhering very much to the system laid down by Linneus (one of our earliest and best naturalists). The groups he indicated and named have, in a great measure, been retained amid all the progress of science. Among the most important services he rendered was the introduction of a clear and precise nomenclature ; so I feel justified in adhering to his system of classification in its broad, cardinal features, following the arrangement of that eminent ornithologist, Mr Vigors, and adopted by Mr Selby in his “ Illustrations of the British Birds.” But, after all, Natural History, like what is called Theology, is so varied and so vast a theme, that all should be at liberty to study and arrange the subject for themselves; and, if I follow any previous system, it is merely to save the time and trouble of classification. I make no apology for taking hold of the borrowed lamp of others to guide me on my way in perfecting my little History of this interesting portion of creation—carefully adding my own spark of personal observation ; and if at times I vary the more prosaic and systematic style of classification with a spice of poetry and anecdote, it will simply be to relieve the monotony of bald description. But all such variations shall be in accord- ance with the character of the subject in hand. Neither have I scrupled to pin down facts wherever I found them, or lay hold of pithy description and traits of character when they ran parallel with my own knowledge-—on the same principle that I would collect good specimens of birds or eggs from the open museum of Nature, in the fields and woods or by the sea-shore, the better to illustrate my subject and make it more attractive to my readers—for such descriptions may have 16 INTRODUCTION. been borrowed from others, at least must have been lent by the bounteous hand of Nature. For clearness and simplicity I have divided the birds into the two broadly defined divisions—Land Birds and Water Birds ; these again into five well-defined classes or orders, which, as they correspond in number to the fingers and thumb of the hand, will be the readier borne in ‘mind. These are the Raptores, or tearers; the Insessores, or perchers ; the Rasores, or scrapers ; the Gralatores, or waders; and the Natatores, or swimmers and divers. I shall use British or local names in pre- ference to Latin ones, as a living language is easier understood than a dead one; and, purposely, treat the subject so as not only to teach, but to invite my readers to follow me in our interesting study. Therefore it would be owt of place to give minute details of their various organs, so perfectly adapted by Nature to their different habits of life, especially when there are so many more strictly scientific works on the subject. or instance, the bill is a great teacher, and tells to what class of bird it belongs. The Raptores, such as the eagles, falcons, hawks or harriers, have a notched tooth and scissor- Jike edges to cut their fleshy prey. Those which feed on worms and orubs, such as thrushes and larks, have soft bills, merely to pull out and swallow. Those which live on insects, such as the swallows, fly-catchers, wagtails, &c., have theirs small and pointed. The huskers or sheilers, which live on seeds and grain, such as the buntings, sparrows, finches, and linnets, have theirs strong for sheiling ; those of the creepers and woodpeckers are long, for pecking insects out of the bark of trees. Ducks and geese have theirs broad and serrated for sifting water. Herons and oyster-catchers have theirs also long for seizing their finny or shelly prey. But all birds may be classed by the structure of the bill alone. Mr Selby seems to have taken the same view, for he says ‘With respect to organic structure, both external.and internal, and the necessary adaptation of its several parts to peculiar habits of life, I would recommend an attentive perusal of the works of Cuvier, especially his ‘Regni Anaimal ;’ those of Buffon ; and the ‘Philosophy of Zoology’ of Dr Fleming, as well as the writings of Messrs Vigors and Swainson, in all of which these general heads of the science are most ably discussed. Derham’s ‘Physics Theology’ and the ‘ Natural Theology’ of Dr Paley follow the others in such natural progression, by leading the mind to a deeper interest in this pleasing branch of science, that they ought not to be omitted. These works are MOULTING. 17 tirst mentioned, as applying to the subject in its most enlarged scale ; but with regard to the minorand more superficial points, there are many works upon general ornithology, as well as upon that of our own islands, which I would particularly recommend —such as Dr Latham’s ‘General Synopsis’ and ‘Index Ornithologian ;’ the ‘ Ornithological Dictionary’ and ‘ Supple- ment’ of Montague, the ‘Manuel d’ Ornithologie’ of M. Temnick, the ornithological works of Brisson, Le Vaillant, Vieillot, Sesson, &c. Of the German writers, Meyer, Bechstein, and Illiger will be found of eminent use. And for an in- structive individual history of each species, the ‘Ornithology’ of Willoughby ; White’s ‘Natural History of Selborne ;’ the works of Pennant, and the ‘ British Birds of Bewick,’ will repay perusal.” In giving such an extensive list of authors, I do so for the purpose of giving my readers a key by which they may open the door that leads into the study of this pleasant branch of Natural History. MOowLTING. In the course of description, tne terms ‘“‘ vernal” and “autumnal” moult may occur, which it may be necessary to explain. The autumnal moult is the annual change of plumage to which all birds are liable, and which usually takes place in autumn after propagation. JI may remark, however, that the swallows and a few others do not moult till January or February. The vernal, or spring moult, is the partial change that some species undergo, especially the males, at the pairing or courting season—which livery of love, so to speak, remains during the propagation period only. In some birds, the golden plover for instance, the colour of plumage is very much changed—the throat and breast become ‘black in summer, instead of the mottled golden hue of the rest of the year. _ Such birds as the male chaffinch and rose linnet increase in brilliancy of plumage when the ever-returning period of court- ship and love takes place, when the throats of our sylvan songsters ring forth their cheerful notes at this busy and interesting time of the year—when the bracken and the broom, the hedges and the trees, begin to assume their lovely livery of green—for Nature herself pays universal homage to the all-per- 18 INTRODUCTION. vading power of love in the continuation of species. Nor are the raven or golden locks of the country maiden less cared for as she trips over the lea, or the steps of her sweetheart less elastic as they hasten to meet each other at their appointed trysting-place down the glen or thorny dell. Nor is the innate blush on the cheek of modesty less deep when their lips instinctive meet in the mutual kiss of true and pure first natural love, although not always so faithful and true as the court- ship and marriage of the birds, who choose their own partners, and neither seek divorce nor break their marriage contract. Some authors say that the change of plumage is due to the action of the air and sun wearing the edges of the feathers ; but, like Mr Selby, I think the increased brilliancy is more owing to: an inherent principle in the bird and the feathers themselves— like the blush on the cheek of modesty—enhanced by the time of the year and the increased vitality of our feathered friends. For the same vital principle which deepens the hue of the cheek can deepen the hue of the feather. That there is an invisible fluid pervading the feather appears in the striking difference in elasticity and brilliancy of colour between the feather of a bird when alive and a short time after death. In water-birds especially this principle of life in the feather is strikingly apparent, as the plumage which is im- pervious to water upon the living bird is almost immediately after death subject to its effect. Then, why should not the feather be influenced by the constitutional state of the bird? And as that is in the highest degree of vigour immediately before the season of propagation, why may it not be shown even to the extreme points of the circulating medium by a partial variation of colour ?—like the blush on the cheek, or increased lustre of the feather ? Changes in the colour of the hair are not less a matter of fact- It has been recorded that one night of grief or fear has turned the raven locks of man or woman grey, like the young grey- haired girl, whose locks changed in a night while holding her little sister up over the rustic bridge over which she had fallen. And it is well known that the summer and winter coats of many quadrupeds are different. For instance, the stoat-weasel and upland-hare assume a winter’s garb without any shedding of their coat. Therefore it is quite possible that the edges of the feathers may be shed (but not by a gradual process), and present a brighter surface of the same colour, or of a different shade altogether. In those birds where this change takes place, it MIGRATION AND FLIGHT. 19 may be observed that when the feathers (as on the head of the chaffinch, reed bunting, and stone chat) are of two distinct hues, the webs of the exterior one are joined to the main body of the feather by a line of separation of finer texture, thus forming an additional margin to the inner part. T have thought it right to notice the alteration of colour at different times of the year, because, like the alteration of many birds in their progress to maturity (which sometimes takes several years, and each year different), an erroneous multiplication of species is the inevitable result, unless great care is taken to reduce such variations into their proper species. The study of this has been lately one of the chief advances in the science of ornithology, and one well worthy the careful study of every student of it. MIGRATION AND FLIGHT. The Law of Migration to the general reader may require some explanation. The terms Summer and Winter visitant, Polar and Equatorial migrant, may occur in these pages. Therefore, to illustrate my meaning, the Summer visitant or Polar migrant means a bird resident during the summer in Britain—as being the most northern parallel of latitude to which its migration extends, from the Equator towards the Pole—such as the willow and yellow woodwrens, the cuckoo, nightjar, swallows, &c. To the Winter visitant or Equatorial migrant, Britain is the southernmost parallel to which their winter migration reaches, from the Pole to the Equator, their summer being passed in colder regions. Included in these visitants are some of the ducks, the woodcock, the fieldfare and redwing, the snow bunting, &c. The Occasional visitant is a bird found here only at un- certain intervals—the waxwing and crossbill are instances. It also applies to stragglers that have been driven out of their regular course of migration by tempests or other casualties. Migration is an instinctive law of Nature, particularly shown by the feathered race from their superior ability of locomotion, which has long engaged the study of naturalists. A great latitudinal movement, from the Equator towards the Poles, takes place on the approach of spring, when Nature calls for the per- petuation of the species. Another movement—the reverse of 20 INTRODUCTION. this from the Poles to the Equator—is in force during the autumnal and hyemal months. Upon this unerring fact a few words explanatory of the cause can with safety be said. The influence of uncongenial climate for food and propagation is the motive principle of migration, and, to a great extent, rules the breeding season of even our indigenous birds. For instance, the robin or blue tit, which have sought the precincts of man during winter, betake themselves to the mossy burn sides or sheltered plantations on the approach of spring ; and it is wisely arranged by Nature that the young are brought forward generally at the time of the year when their particular kind of food is most plentiful. Therefore, the progress of vegetation, and the consequent display of the insect tribe, essentially operate upon those species that look to these sources for their supply of food ; accordingly, we find the arrival of those birds hastened or retarded by an early or late spring. During the time that insects are in the chrysalis state in one latitude they may be in the mature state in another, and an equalisation of destruction (or living on life) is ordained for the wisest purpose ; and, at the same time, the birds may be equally useful and necessary to the inhabitants of the different countries they visit in the wise and _ perfect economy of Nature. The more we study Mother Nature, the more we are con- vinced that the two laws—search of food and propagation of species, each after its kind, rule all created beings—which, in man (with the addition of his mental instinct, called religion ; and in woman, dyess)—assume the names of Gold and Love, or love of gold and pride of position in society. All the rest of our desires are like the incipient toes of the elephant, or hidden thigh-bone of the whale, compared to the perfect and well- defined human hand or foot—migration in the bird being simply emigration in the man, generally impelled by a desire to make money or a better home to live in; unless when hunting - after pleasure or scientific research. For even a cow in a park will shift about in search of uncropped grass to carry on the first Jaw of life. All creatures (including man) follow the same in- exorable law. Only, birds, having the pre-eminent power of flight, carry out their instinctive desires at stated times with much greater facility—hence the word migration. Our forefathers were slow to believe that any British-born bird would leave its island home for a foreign one. No doubt certain birds, as the swallows, mysteriously disappeared every autumn ; but it was thought that, like the bat and the bear, MIGRATION AND FLIGHT. vi | they hibernated at home—slept through the winter and spring, rather than migrated abroad. Modern observation—like re- flections on the brimstone punishment of original sin—have destroyed this theory, and now it is believed that every one of our birds is more or less migratory. An hour’s trip across the Channel or to the south of France may suffice for some, while others must visit the Holy Land or the “Sad Soudan ;” but, far or near, like man, foreign travel enters into the life of the majority of British birds. For much of our recent knowledge of the migration of birds across our seas we are indebted to the british Association, which, happily, utilised the lighthouses and lightships on the British coasts as ornithological observatories. During 1884 schedules were issued to two hundred of these, and from more than one hundred of them returns were got; therefore it is unlikely that migration can go on without being observed either by night or day. For at night the light attracts the birds, and numbers are killed by dashing against the lanterns. In one night fifty starlings were thus killed at the Tuskar lighthouse, on the Trish coast, and all stations have a heavy annual death-rate from the same cause. The object of the Association is to collect facts, with the view of drawing conclusions as to the causes and ex- tent, and the routes by which birds come and go. Each year adds interesting facts to the law of migration. It has been proved that, like the Gulf stream, or the annual course of summer and winter, there are two distinct migrations going on at the same time. One of these is illustrated by such birds as the swaJlow, which comes in spring to breed, and retires in autumn, with its brood, to moult and live during winter. Independent of this, however, there is a continual stream of immigrants week by week, and month by month, to the eastern shores of our islands, coming directly across Europe from east to west ; and the reverse on the return journey after their mission has been fulfilled, like the coming and going of crowded railway trains at certain times of the year. They come or go in one broad stream, but denser on special lines or highways than others. These are mainly composed of well-known species which annually make our islands their winter quarters, and take the place of our summer birds. These observations show that birds reach this country by the same routes and at the same times as birds of the same species are leaving it. Such birds as crows, rooks, jackdaws, starlings, larks, sparrows, buntings, and finches are recorded as passing these stations towards Britain, and from bo 2 INTRODUCTION. it towards the Continent at the very same time. ‘These common British birds are regarded as resident all the year round; but this is only true of the species—not of the individual. The blackbird, for instance, is one of our habitual residents, but is so because of the Continental ones that come in winter to fill the places of our native-born emigrant birds. In September the young leave us, and their place is taken by other young birds coming in October and November from districts east or south- east of Britain. Should our winter be severe, our old birds will also leave, and in their place we have an influx of old blackbirds from the Continent pushed forward by similar causes. In spring the Continental visitors leave, and our so-called resident blackbirds come back to their nesting quarters, which keeps up the supply independent of local influence. On the llth, 12th, and 13th of November 1884 there was an almost continuous rush of them, night and day, noted at the East Coast stations. Severe weather on the Continent was probably the cause of this unusual migration, which was greatly in excess of any previous reports. The area of bird life in winter is ereatly restricted by the covering of immense regions in the north with ice and snow, thus necessitating their entire abandon- ment for months by birds. The pressure thus caused in more temperate regions is relieved by the wise arrangement whereby the less northerly make way for the more northerly by moving for a time further south. The last fortnight in October is the usual period of the “ great rush” of immigration. Heligoland was one of the Committee’s outlying stations, and was of utmost importance, being situated on the main highway of migration to britain. From June 28th to the end of the year Mr Gatte observed no fewer than 118 different species of migrants on that island. Some of these passed over in prodigious numbers, especially redstarts, whinchats, and starlings. ‘‘ In duration and number the migration of starlings exceeds that of any other species.” They passed from the 14th to 25th of October in immense clouds. The Scottish returns were arranged by Mr Harvie Brown, who makes migration a special study ; and the Scottish ornithologist will find his report full of interesting notes. He tells of a swallow taken at the Bell Rock lighthouse as early as March 13th ; it was so exhausted that on admittance to the lighthouse it lay down and slept for sixteen hours. He says the Isle of May has proved one of the best stations in Scotland for migration observations. On the night of the 4th of October 1884—at the MIGRATION AND FLIGHT. 35 time of the total eclipse of the moon, quite dark—about a dozen gold-crested wrens were caught at the lantern. Their migration commenced on the 28th of August, and continued until the 16th of November. It seems strange how these tiny, weak birds are able to brave crossing the stormy North Sea. Great numbers, however—as well as other birds, great and small—perish when contrary winds and fogs set in during their flight. The year 1884 was noted in Scottish waters by the enormous abundance of gulls of different species. He says garvies or sprats (culpea sprattus), on which the gulls fed, were in tremendous abundance in the Firth of Forth—being literally alive with them, hundreds of tons being sold as manure. The exceptional abundance of the minute crustacea, known as “herring food,” probably accounts for the unusual abundance of these sprats, and this ex- traordinary abundance of ‘“‘herring food” so far south as the Scottish coast may have been due to the great accumulation of ice throughout the summer of 1884 along the West Coast of Spitzbergen. The cooling of the water by this huge mass of ice probably led to the retreat of the minute organisms, known as “herring food,” further south than usual. Sprats and other fishes in great shoals followed their crustacean food, while gulls and other sea birds naturally followed the fish on which. they feed—thus illustrating the universal law of migration. The whale follows the herring, the herring and sprat follow the minute crustacea, and these minute crustacea will doubtless prey upon life still more minute, until life itself is lost in water, and thus our globe wheels on until even it, too, may be lost in space. It is a corroborative fact, that, as the sprats did not enter the Firth of Tay, neither did that estuary participate in the unusual migration of gulls. If that ornithological problem migration is ever to be solved, no better plan can be adopted than by the British Association ; and it is pleasing to know that similar observations are now being made in Canada and in the United States. _ The stations on the East Coast of Scotland from which reports were got extend from North Unst, Shetland, where the light on the lighthouse is 230 feet above sea level, to St Abb’s Head, Berwickshire, where the light is 224 feet above sea level. On the East Coast of England they include the Longstone lght- house (on the Farne Islands), and all the East and South-east Coasts to the Hanois lighthouse, Guernsey, one of the Channel Islands. On the West Coast of Scotland they extend from Cape Wrath, 24 INTRODUCTION. Sutherlandshire, where the light is 400 feet above sea level, to Little Ross lighthouse, Kirkeudbrightshire, 173 feet above the sea. From the West Coasts of England and Wales they extend from the Bahama Bank lightship to Start Point lighthouse on the Southern Coast. On the Irish Coast they extend from Fastnett, County Cork, to Drusy Island—49 stations in all— from which valuable reports have been obtained concerning the migration of our feathered friends. Though the winter of 1884 was comparatively mild, there were “very large rushes” on the East Coasts of Scotland and England, from the middle of October till the end of the month, day and night. In Scotland, the heaviest rushes were recorded in the middle of November, a vast majority of the birds coming across the stormy North Sea. But the Southern movement to our East Coasts was begun in July, and from then to January there was a steady flow. The main body of woodcocks arrived in two large and wide- ranging flights, known as the “first flight” and the ‘“ great flight,” from October 10th to November 13th—extending from the Nash East lighthouse, in the Bristol Channel, to the Pentland Skerries, in the North of Scotland: they migrated during the night. Supposing they left Denmark at 5 p.m. and travelled across Heligoland, so as to arrive (as they did) at Nash at 3.30 a.m. next morning, their rate of speed was 52 miles an hour. Owing to the comparatively mild weather in 1884 the immigration of woodcocks continued over 142 days and nights. One of the most interesting migratory features of 1884 was. the large arrival of pied fly-catchers along the whole of our East Coast. A great many of these rather rare birds arrived during the first week of May 1885, at stations between Yarmouth and Pentland Skerries. At Flamborough they arrived in a north-east wind, accompanied by male redstarts. The result of this unusual movement was that pied fly-catchers were found nesting in various localities in England and Scotland where they had never previously been seen at any time of the year. The rare Arctic blue-throat also came in some numbers between September 8th and 18th. About a hundred of these handsome and comparatively rare birds were seen in one locality, on the Norfolk Coast, on the 12th. THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. 95 Tue Fuicutr or Brrps. The next thing to consider is the power and facility by which birds carry out their instinctive desire of migration. It is one of the distinctions between man and many of the lower animals that they can fly, while he cannot. Our inferiors in other respects, it must be confessed that in the question of wings they, not we, are “on the side of the angels.” Man envies the bird for its marvellous powers of flight, and has repeatedly tried to supply the want by artificial means; but as yet without success—unless through the wingless flight of the balloon. But, with the knowledge now possessed of the laws which govern natural flight, with the increasing command of natural forces, and the greater mechanical skill of man, it is not impossible that artificial flight may yet be accomplished. It is supposed by many that it is the lightness of birds—by air cells and hollow bones—that renders their flight possible ; but insects, bats, and birds are as heavy, bulk for bulk, as most other creatures, and flight can be performed perfectly by animals which have neither air-sacs nor hollow bones. Strange though it may appear, it is the weight—-not the buoyancy—of birds which enables them to fly. Were they lighter than air flight would be impossible. They could merely float in the erial ocean like a balloon, and, like it, would be liable to be blown hither and thither by every breath of wind. Birds are immensely heavier than the air they navigate, and it is this weight that gives the momentum, which, when properly directed, becomes transformed into sustaining and propelling power. The momentum which weight adds to a bird in full flight is strikingly illustrated in the effect produced when a bird strikes a lighthouse. A wild-duck has been known to smash one of the glasses of Eddystone lighthouse, with the result not only of its own instant destruction, but of the complete smashing of the glass, fully an inch thick. It is well known that this momentum has been utilised in the catching of such birds as the Solan goose, by fixing herring on boards, down upon which the bird comes with such force as to break its neck. They have been known to plunge half through the bottom of a boat engaged at the herring fishing. The extent of wing does not bear any fixed relation to the weight of the bird, there being many heavy-bodied birds with small wings, and as many light birds with large wings. A Cc 26 INTRODUCTION. recent scientist gives it as a general rule that the larger the bird the smaller, comparatively, are its wings. Thus, the sparrow, which weighs 339 times less than the Australian crane, has proportionately seven times more wing surface. Yet the crane has few equals in the height to which it rises, or the length of time its flight is maintained; while of all migratory birds it probably takes the longest journeys. The form and size of the wing differs considerably in different species, and on these depend the flying powers of the bird. Thus long, narrow, sharp-pointed wings are associated with the highest powers of flight ; while with short, rounded wings the flight may be rapid, but never long sustained. The coot, diver, duck, and goose are examples of short-winged birds which fly with great rapidity ; but, as speed is attained by the constant flapping of the wings, the severe muscular strain tires them sooner out. The ‘poetry of motion,” as flight has been called, is best seen in the “sailing” birds, which include those provided with long, sharp-pointed wings. One of the best examples is the albatross, with its great, narrow wings, about fourteen feet from tip to tip, and only afoot in breadth. To rise from the water this huge bird has to flap violently on the surface with its wings, and for some time after it is fairly out of the water. Once launched, however, all visible exertion ceases, and with outstretched, motionless wings it sails along with majestic sweeps. “I have,” says Captain Hutton, “narrowly watched one of these birds sailing and wheeling about in all directions for an hour without seeing the slightest movement of the wings ; and have never seen anything to equal the ease and grace of this bird as it sweeps past, often within a few yards— every part of its body perfectly motionless, except the head and eye, which turn slowly and seem to take notice of everything.” But this sailing motion is only possible when there is a breeze ; when calm it sits on the water, or if it rises, it has to flap its monster wings continually. It is like the sailing boat which glides swiftly before a favouring breeze, but must be propelled by oars in a calm. That a breeze is essential to the sailing or soaring of birds was also the opinion of Belt, who, in his ‘ Naturalist in Nicaragua,” states that ‘‘ when it is calm the vultures are obliged to flap their wings when they fly, but when a breeze is blowing they use their specific gravity as a fulerum, by which they present their bodies and outstretched wings and tails at various angles to the wind, and literally sail.” I have repeatedly seen THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. rH and watched our own sea-gulls do the very same in windy weather, when returning from the fields in the evening on their way to roost on the ‘sands at Tentsmuir. They soar and wheel in space for miles, as far as the eye can reach them, without flapping their wings, and seem to have the power of even beating against the wind, by pressing their wings and tail and turning them to certain angles. And we all know that one of our most effective sails in the teeth of the wind is the old wing-shaped lug-sail of the fisherman. But no human invention can touch the sailing powers of the bird. Mr A. T. Peal, writing recently from Assam about the adjutant bird, the clumsy-looking pelican, and other allied species, states that ‘they rise by flapping the wings vigorously until they reach a height of about a hundred feet. Then, if there is a breeze, they soar in wide, circular sweeps, the bird being otherwise motionless, and the wings extended rigidly.” This soaring, he says, “‘ goes on without the slightest flapping of the wings until the bird is almost out of sight.” But the most remarkable, probably, of all the sailing birds is the condor of the Andes, the largest flying creature. It trails its wings on the ground when walking, and is as awkward as the swan on land. No bird has more difficulty in launching itself on its proper element, and unless it has room to take a run it cannot rise at all. [Our own little, long-winged swift has the same difficulty in rising from a level surface.| This is made use of by the natives : They place a dead mule on the brink of a steep ravine, where the condors soon collect ; and, in their eagerness to devour the carcass, Invariably push it over the cliff. The hungry birds also descend into the gorge, but from it (after their meal) they are unable to rise, and so become an easy prey to the crafty mountaineers. Once clear of the surface, however, no bird rises so high. It is believed to rise to a height of six miles. Humboldt saw it flying over Chimborazo, at a height of at least 23,000 feet, when, with a barometric pressure of only thirteen degrees, it seems to breathe as freely as at the level of the sea. No bird fascinated Darwin so much during his visit to South America as the condor. He watched one for half-an-hour without taking off his eyes, and never during that or any other time, while these birds were circling overhead, could he detect the slightest movement in the wings. ‘It is truly wonderful and beautiful,” he adds, “‘ to see so great a bird hour after hour, without any apparent exertion, wheeling and gliding over mountain and river.” 28 INTRODUCTION. Wonderful as is the soaring of many birds, a still more remark- able feat is that of hovering. This consists in the bird itself remaining stock-still, while its wings quiver with great velocity. Humming birds do this regularly when searching blossoms for their insect food. When thus poised the body is in a vertical position, maintained by the action of the wings, which are in such rapid motion that the eye cannot follow the strokes. There are other kinds of hovering, however, among birds of prey— such as the kestrel falcon or wind-hover, as it is aptly called, in which all motion, that of the wings included, is suspended for a time. Various naturalists account for this in various ways. For instance, “‘in a mountain gorge, swept by a stiff breeze, a hawk was seen hovering in search of prey. In the rapid current of air it remained apparently fixed in space, without the slightest flutter, for at least two minutes. It changed its position a few feet with a slight motion of its wings, and came to rest again apparently as motionless as the rocks around it.” Mr Hubert Airy, who has been studying this question for years, says he always found, “‘ First, a fresh wind blowing ; second, the bird was facing the wind; and third, beneath it there was a steep slope facing the wind.” These, he says, ‘‘ confirm his theory that the bird, in hovering, is upheld by a slant upward current of air sutficiently strong to neutralise the force of gravity.” The Duke of Argyll, on the other hand, says ‘‘ he has never seen a kestrel’s wings motionless when hovering, these usually having a rapid and tremulous action; and that, even when this action seemed suspended for a moment or two during a stiff breeze, he could still detect the quivering of the quills.” This sort of hovering, he maintains, is perpetually accomplished, under the ordinary conditions of horizontal currents of air, by terns or sea- swallows over the surface of the sea. I have repeatedly watched both kestrels and terns hovering, and come to the conclusion that both Mr Airy and the Duke of Argyll are right according to their view of the question. For, as the albatross can only sail with motionless wings so long as it has a sufficient breeze, failing which it must have recourse to the flapping of its wings—in other words, by taking to its oars— so the same with hovering as with sailing or soaring, the feat being done by the long-winged birds without any motion of the wings when the exceptionally favourable conditions prevail, while, under a less favourable condition, the bird, if it is to hover at all, must have recourse to a greater or less extent of wing and tail motion. CLASSIFICATION AND NOMENCLATURE. 29 It has long been a puzzle how the muscular action necessary to keep birds on the wing so long as they often do could be possible ; and Professor Tobridge, an American scientist, ex- plained the recent discovery by his son that birds of prey and others have the power to lock together those parts of the wing holding the extended feathers corresponding to the fingers of the human hand. The action of the air on the wing in this condition extends the elbow, which is prevented from opening too far by a cartilage. The wings may keep this position for an indefinite length of time with no muscular action on the part of the bird: While resting in this way the bird cannot rise in a still atmosphere, but if there be a horizontal current, it may allow itself to be carried along by it, with a slight tendency downward, and so gain a momentum by which—with a slight change of direction—it may rise to some extent, still without muscular action of the wings. The Professor believed it quite possible for a bird to sleep on the wing. CLASSIFICATION AND NOMENCLATURE. As simplicity and fact are my chief objects in writing this book, so observations on the habits of each species are my principal study. We may quarrel over genera, families, or orders, each anxious to place the various arrangements in their assumed proper groups—arrogating to themselves perfection— like Sectarianism in religion, and yet all fail, in consequence of the complexity, or rather vast simplicity and complete perfection of Nature in all her faultless chain of universal harmony. So, paying little heed to what genus or family they may be con- sidered by the arbitrary systems of man to belong to, I will describe each bird. With the affinities so much interrupted in the comparatively circumscribed area on which I am writing, it were little short of ‘presumption trying to classify the birds otherwise than by some previously recognised system. But this is secondary to the history and description of each species by itself, which is the true object of penning this unpretending work on the feathered friends of our youth, and to tell what I know of them individually from my rambles and experiences in life, and set down any striking incident of fact I can gather from others about them. To arrange the 350 species of the British Birds (far less those of the St Andrews district only) in anything like the order so 50 INTRODUCTION. perfectly assigned, by Nature would be futile, for she leaves no gap in her system of affinities. Her circle is so very complete that when the various members of it have been scattered, and some lost, like a vast universal puzzle which has been minutely subdivided beyond human research, it is impossible to rearrange them in their original entirety in any circumscribed spot of earth. Like one species Nature is perfect, for, as each bird is com- posed of countless feathers and downs, so was her system at first, in faultless order—like one species—from the golden eagle to the golden-crested wren ; from the condor to the humming- bird; from the light and airy swallow to the clumsy, short- winged auk—with all the intervening species minutely dovetailed in between, until broken by time and civilization : some driven away from certain localities by drainage ; some lost altogether, like the dodo from the globe, or the great bustard from the fens of Lincolnshire. ' But, after all, the study of each species, with its more immediate genera, affords abundant scope to every one of us. Were naturalists as anxious to describe species by themselves as they are sometimes so minute in their definition to affine what they consider the proper place of each in their presumed genera, families, and orders, the study of Natural History would be much simplified and very much enhanced ; instead of warm discussions about the unravelling of a tangled skein, which if unravelled would only prove what science already knows—the faultless order and complete perfection of Nature. Maunder’s “Treasury of Natural History” says—‘‘It has long been customary to apply the terms animal kingdom, vegetable kingdom, and mineral kingdom to the three grand portions of the ‘ mighty whole ’—into which, when speaking of the science of Natural History, the countless productions of the earth are systematically divided.” ; In this simple and obvious arrangement the animal kingdom is conspicuously pre-eminent, as it comprehends all organised beings provided with a mouth and stomach, and endowed with the powers of sensation and voluntary locomotion. The animal and vegetable kingdoms are, however, so intimately blended together that this description is an insufficient guide to dis- tinguish those organised beings which may be said to be on the confines of either kingdom. The possession of nerves being indispensable to the power of motion—a nervous system has been considered the distinguishing characteristic of the animal CLASSIFICATION AND NOMENCLATURE. 31 kingdom ; but in one division (Acrita—comprising polypes, infusoria, animalcules, sponges, &c.) no traces of nerves have hitherto been discovered. The best characteristic of the animal kingdom is the possession of a mouth or aperture through which food is received, and a stomach in which it is digested ; and this includes all the organised beings which have ever been considered by naturalists to belong to the animal kingdon, except the various kinds of sponges. My limits are prescribed, so that-further observations must be dispensed with here. But the following beautiful remarks by Mr Rymer Jones so admir- ably illustrate the difficulty of drawing an exact line between the animal and vegetable kingdoms that I gladly conclude in his words—‘ Light and darkness are distinct from each other, and no one possessed of eyesight would be in danger of confounding night and day; yet he who, looking upon the evening sky, would attempt to point out precisely the line of separation between the parting day and the approaching night would have a difficult task to perform.” Thus it is with the physiologist who endeavours to draw the boundary between these two grand kingdoms of Nature ; for so gradually and imperceptibly do their confines blend, that it is at present utterly out of his power to define exactly where the vegetable existence ceases and animal life begins. And Southey beautifully says of night and morning when they meet— ** The nightingale not yet Had ceased her song, nor had the early lark Her dewy nest forsaken.” Therefore, when the exact confines of day and night can scarcely be defined, and when it is impossible to define the exact limits of two such widely different organizations as the animal and vegetable kingdoms, how can we define the exact genus, family, or order of a class of creation so varied—yet so much alike in their various affinities—as the birds? Some ornithologists think that the dmward machinery—the unseen - entrails—are the best criterion to regulate their order. Others deem the plumage ; some the shape of the bill; others the toes, as in the scrapers—like the hen; or in the web feet for swim- ming—like the duck. But the science of Nature is so very perfect and complete that it does not matter where we begin our study, for we will find affinities, order, and perfection everywhere, whether it be in the hen scraping on a dunghill, or in the eagle soaring over a mountain. Therefore, as none are progressive in intellect, like 32 INTRODUCTION. man, I prefer begiuning with the bird which soars highest, reversing the order of man’s history ; for he has risen from blind barbarism to enlightened civilization—from the worship of idols to the worship ofa myth—and still progressing in his belief of a Deity, which will only culminate in the great simplicity of knowing the truth and reverencing the one living and true God, as seen in Nature around us, and in the science of eternal order, for true knowledge consists in knowing that the eternal source of all life is wnsearchable by man; but true and infinite though unfathomable and unknown; and no less true because the eternal origin of all order and of all existence is as the bottom of the sea ; yet no less real although no sounding plummet can reach it. But, although man has risen from barbarity up to civilization —from a schoolboy to a professor; from an apprentice to a master—a golden eagle has not sprung from the egg of a wren, or learned to soar with the wing of a goose, for each is true to its own species, no matter what Darwin may say, without interfering with his great scientific theory. So I may as well begin with a golden eagle as with a golden crested wren. TecHNIcAL NAMES. Regarding the meaning of species, genus, genera, family, and order, some of my young readers may like to know without turning up their dictionary. Therefore, to them I say that species means every ¢ndividual bird in creation ; for instance, a lark is one species ; a linnet is another; a blackbird another ; a rook another, and so on, or each one is a species in that class of creatures called birds. A genus is a group of these birds, so closely resembling each other as hardly to be mistaken—as the raven, the carrion crow, the hooded crow, the rook, and jackdaw. These combined form the genus called Corvus, which means, in British, crow. The plural of Corvus is Corvin, as genera is plural of genus. Corresponding with the Latin generic, name of Corvus, we have their Latin specific names of Corax, COorone, Cornix, Frugilegus, and Monedula, which, in full, read thus: Corvus Corax, Corvus Corone, Corvus Cornix, Corvus Frugilegus, and Corvus Monedula, and which, in British, simply means raven crow, carrion crow, hoody crow, rook crow, and daw crow. These are the specific and generic names joined, both in Latin and in British. My meaning will be seen still plainer by calling TECHNICAL NAMES. 33 these birds by their simple names of the raven, the corby, the hoody, the rook, and the jackdaw ; and as these five crows con- stitute the genus Corvus in the Corvine, so, for instance, the magpie, which is closely allied to the crow, forms another genus, called Pica, in the family of Corvide. The jay represents another, called Garrulus,; and the chough another, Fregilus. Now, although these three last form each a genus by themselves, as the five crows united also form one, it is not because there are not more species of each genus in the world, but these are all that represent each genus in Britain (and it is the British, or rather the Fifeshire birds, I am chiefly treating upon). Thus it will be seen that these four groups (or genera)—Corvus, Pica, Garrulus, Fregilus, comprise the Corvide. There are other species or genera affined to these, but not so closely as to come within the scope of this particular sub-family; but, being grouped together in other genera, these joined form what is called a family, on the very same principle that several species— closely allied—form a genus, and allied groups or genera joined form the family. An order, again, comprehends a still wider group of birds more or less allied together. But, as before stated, where is all this grouping to end !—for all birds are more or less allied to each other, much more so than frogs, lions, sheep, buffaloes, or elephants can be said to be allied to them, although all Nature’s creatures, and each form part of the vast science of Zoology. So it is quite sufficient 1f we describe each species by itself, as we would read and study the biography of some great man; or some noted whale or white shark ; or the proverbial white elephant, and simply class each species in the one wide class of animated creatures called birds, which form the second class in the order of Zoology or the complete science of Natural History—the Mammalia being the /irst. I think my young readers will see what I mean by all this jumble of Latin and British words—my object being to teach them to enter upon the science of Ornithology, or the history of birds, by the easiest means and shortest route. After being started, they can easily find larger and better works which treat on the same subject to take them further on. NAMES OF THE DIFFERENT Parts oF Birps. Still aiming to teach, next in order come some of the techni- cal names of the various parts of our feathered friends, without 34 INTRODUCTION. which a good deal of dictionary work might be needed to arrive at a satisfactory solution, but I shall use technical words as. seldom as possible. FEATHERS. Acute feathers mean sharp-pointed. Accuminate—With a long point, as in the neck feathers of eagles. Abrupt—Cut even at the ends. Alar quills—Wing quills, the larger feathers. Upper alar—On the upper part or dorsal part of the wings. Lower alar—On the lower or sternal part of the wings. Axillary feathers—The long straight ones at the end of the humerus, under the wing. Auricular—About the aperture of the ear. Anterior—On the fore part of the back. Abdominal—On the belly. Cervical—On the neck—upper, middle, or lower parts. Ciliary—On the edges of the eyelids. Caudal quills—Terminating the body behind. Caudal quill coverts—Feathers covering the caudal quills at their base. Digitals-—Covering the toes. Elongated—Long feathers, as on crests, like the heron’s. Geneal—On the side of the head, under the eye. Hypochondrial—On the sides of the body, under the wings. Loral—On the space between the bill and the eye. Marginirostral— Round the basal margin of the bill. Occiput—The head. Occipital—On the back part of the head. Palpebral—On the eyelids. Pectoral—On the breast-—upper, middle, or lower parts. Quill coverts—Feathers which cover the base of the quills. Secondary or cubital quills—Those on the cubitus or fore- arm. Tertiary or Ijin quills—Those on the humerus or arm. Scapulars —Long feathers at the extremity of the arm, as on the back. Scutellar—In plates, like a shield. Tibial feathers—Those covering the tibia or rieg ene thigh. Tarsal— Covering the tarsus or “under half of the leg. Wings acuminated—Drawn to a point, like the swift’s. NAMES OF THE DIFFERENT PARTS OF BIRDS. 35 TECHNICAL TERMS OF THE BIL. Bill compressed—When narrowed by the mandibles being pressed in laterally cultrated— When each mandible is shaped like a plough- share. carinated—When each mandible has a ridge or keel. , culminated—When the central ridge of the upper mandible is very prominent, like a falcon’s. ,, culmen—The central ridge of the bill. ,, depressed—When flattened, like a duck’s. deflected—When the upper mandible is bent down at the point. imarginated—When either mandible is notched towards the extremity. ,, inflated—When the sides bulge out. subulated—Bill long and slender, like an awl. 5, quadrangular—oOf a square form. », carunculated—Having fleshy excrescences, like the wattles of a turkey. Cere—The naked skin at the base of the bill. Tomia—The cutting edges of the bill. THe NostRILs. Lateral—On each side of the central ridge of the bill. Ovoid—Shaped like an egg. THe Toncue. Bifid—Forked at the end, as in the falcon’s. Extensile—Capable of considerable protrusion, like the eae: pecker. Cumbriciform—Having rings, like a worm, as in the wryneck and woodpecker’s. LEGS AND FEET. Tibia—The feathered part of the leg (the thigh) above the tarsus. Tarsus—The under part of the leg to which the toes are joined. 36 INTRODUCTION. Feet, reticulated—When the scales are like network. Feet, plated—When the scales are large and overlap, like a coat of mail. Scabrous—Rough, rugged. Phalanges—The joints of the toes. Toe, reversible—Capable of being turned back, like the outer toe of some of the owls. Toe, fimbriated—When the sides are fringed, like the grouse. Digits—The toes. Claws, retractile—Capable of being drawn back into a sheath, like the falcon’s. These may help my young readers in the study of other ornithologists, as I have carefully avoided using technical names as much as possible myself. At the end of the volume is appended a syllabus of practical Taxidermy, or the art of preparing and preserving skins of birds or other animals, which will be useful to those preparing collections. DIvIsIons. I shall now give the two divisions and the five orders I mean to adhere to, for the sake of reducing the species into some kind of system, and also give a synopsis of the whole, which will be of service in classifying each species and genus, which table will, at a glance, show to which genus, family, or order each species belongs to, according to the partial arrange- ment of this little work. Lanp Brrps AND WarTER BIrRDs. The two divisions are the land birds and the water birds. A division so self-evident needs no comment. There are 178 different species or kinds of land birds, which live on or visit Great Britain, and 169 water birds—there being thus no fewer than 347 of our feathered friends which reside in or visit the British islands. The five “ orders,” like the four fingers and thumb of the human hand, are the Raptores (or tearers), the Insessores (or perchers), the Rasores (or scrapers), the Girallatores (or waders), - and the Natatores (or swimmers and divers). The first three are the land birds, the other two the water birds. RAPTORES. aon ORDER L RAPTORES OR TEARERS; VIGORS. The Raptores or tearers answer to the accipiters of Linneus —hbirds of prey, as they are called—are analagous to the carnivorous animals of the first great class in Zoology, the mammalia—such as the lions, tigers, wolves, &c. This order in birds includes the eagles, falcons, vultures, buzzards, harriers, and owls. The compact, powerful body ; predatory habits ; decided partiality for animal food; strong, hooked bill ; muscular limbs ; strong, curved, sharp claws, often semi-retractile ; the piercing eye and bold, upright bearing of this order separate them from all other birds. But appearances do not always tell the real nature of animal life —bird, beast, or man—as a thorough good and pure pug-dog is not necessarily ferocious because he resembles a bull-dog. The strong, hooked bill of the falcon or eagle, neither so powerful nor hooked as that of the parrot or cockatoo, and for obvious reasons—the first being made by Nature to tear flesh, the other to break seeds and nuts, and act as the lever to climb by. The little quail, or partridge, are equally compactly built, although wanting their length of wings, bill, and claws. The owl, on the other hand, is loosely, almost slovenly, attired. This, too, is obvious—to suit her silent, nocturnal flight in search of mice, when the slightest noise would scare her tiny prey-—all different, yet all alike perfect, and peculiarly adapted by the prudent foresight of wise, unerring Nature for the part assigned by her to be played by each. After giving a brief synopsis of the Raptores, I shall then begin with the first order, and describe each species, and tell what I know about them, chiefly from my own observations. The rest of the Orders shall be treated the same way when the time comes to take each separately. JI shall include in each synopsis all the birds I know of personally, and all I know to have been found in Britain ; but shall chiefly specify those I have found myself, or known to have been found, around St Andrews. By this means the book may answer the purpose of a condensed history of the British birds. 38 RAPTORES. SynopricaAL TABLE OF THE RAPTORES OR TEARERS. > 8 E g a Be. S| BRITISH SPECIFIC NAMzEs. | LATIN SPECIFIC NAMES, a 3|2| 8/4] 8 3 a a i} s vo. 2 O| AH] &| nn! od < il a? 1 | Griffon Vulture - - | Vultur Fulvus - - 2 2 | Egyptian Neophron - | Neophron Perenopterus | O.V. 31113 {Golden Eagle - - | Aquila Chryscta - ic 4 | Cinereous Sea Eagle - | Halictus Abbicilla — - L ...| 5 | Osprey : - - | Pandion Halicetus - Zr. 1 2/6 | Hawk - - - | Astur Palumbarius— - Ls ...| 7 | Sparrow Hawk - - | Accipiter Fringillarius 1% 3 | 8 | Jer-Falcon = - | Falco Islandicus - = AR Peregrine Falcon - | Peregrinus - - il Hobby - - - | Subbuteo - - + “Ee We Orange-Legged Hobby | Rufipes - - = INGEN aa Kestrel - - - | Tinnunculus - - L: ... |... | Merlin - - - | dsalon - - - is 3 | 9 | Common Buzzard - | Buteo Vulgaris - - i ... |... | Rough-Legged Buzzard | Lagopus — - - ~ [OM ... (10 | Honey Buzzard - - | Pernis Apivorus - LOW. .{11 | Marsh Harrier - - | Circus Rufus - - I. Hen Harrier - - | Cyaneus - . - i: ...|...| Ash-Coloured Harrier | Cineraceus - - =) Pe 4\12 | Kite or Glead_ - - | Milvus Vulgaris . i ... |... {13 | Swallow-Tailed Elanus | Elanus Furcatus > “Owe 4;...}14 | Pea he oe a \ Bubo Maximus - - | ON. .. 15 | Long-EKared Owl - | Otus Vulgaris - - {. ... |... | Short-Eared Owl - | Otus Brachyotas Se 5 ... |16 | Scope-EKared Owl - | Scope Aldrovandi - ONE ... |L7 | Snowy Owl - - | Surnia Nyctea - -- | OOWe . 18 | Barn or White Owl - | Strix Flammea + - i. 19 | Tawny Owl - - | Ulula Stridula - i I 20 | Tengmalm’s Night Owl | Noctua Tengmalmi - | O.V. Little Night Owl - | Passerina - - ~ Goi. Abb reviations—The Letter I. means Indigenous or Native; P.V., Periodical Visitant ; O.V., Occasional Visitant. It will be seen that there are 29 different species or kinds of birds in the 20 genera, as set down in this synopsis of the raptores. In adhering to this order of affinity, I do so quite indifferent although other ornithologists may think they might be better classified, which, after all, is a matter of arrangement and opinion. The great question has long been solved by science that in Nature there is one perfect cycle of aftinity running RAPTORES. 39 through all life—from the zoophite to man—although some are now extinct, Therefore let each naturalist arrange them as he thinks best, only let him describe each species correctly. From the synoptical table it will be seen that I have two vultures first—the Griffon Vulture, Vudtwr Fulvus, and the Egyptian Neophron, Vultur Perenopterus—not that they have any particular claim to be so, or the best types to repre- sent the order, but the reverse ; for, as they are placed first, so are the harriers, kites, and owls placed last, leaving the true types, the falcons, in the centre—a system of describing a living circle quite obvious. I may remark, however, that the circle should finish with the harriers and kites, leaving the owls to form a family group by themselves; but as they are kept distinct by being described as nocturnal, or night birds of prey, in distinction to the diurnal, or daylight birds of prey, this explanation (though somewhat tedious) will be found so far correct, although in the British birds there are several links awanting to complete the chain between the falconidze and the owls. As two of the vultures—the griffon vulture and the Egyptian neophron—found their way to Britain and were shot—one in Ireland, the other in Somersetshire—they are set down by British ornithologists as occasional visitants, and as the facts did take place, there they stand in our synopsis on the same principle as that a Sandwich Islander or a native of Otaheita (those primitive types of humanity at the one end of the human circle, with the Kaffir and Hottentot at the other) would be called an O.V. in a history of the human races visiting Great Britain, should such swarthy specimens of humanity find their way, either by sail or steam (as they could not by wings) to these rocky homes of freedom and progress, where exist the true, intellectual, and best types of mankind. For the sake of simplicity, I shall divide our rapacious, out- lawed friends into three families—the Vulturide or Vultures, the Falconide or Falcons, and the Strigide or the Owls. These, again, can be sub-divided into sub-families and genera as we proceed. Now, as vultures are not found in these islands, for the sake of information, and to back up, as it were, our solitary friends the griffon and neophron, who had evidently lost their way, I see no harm in describing them, and giving a brief history of the family. 40 VULTURIDA. THE VULTURIDZ. The vultures, which form one of the typical families of the order raptores, are distinguished by having the head more or less divested of feathers, possibly to facilitate their forbidding system of gorging their carrion food, as a whaler would have his arm bare to let him dig easier into the blubber. In Henry IV., when Pistol brings the news of the old King’s death, and that Falstaff’s “tender lambkin (young Prince Hal) is King,” and when Falstatf, elated, exclaims, “ Happy are they which have been my friends ; and moe. to my Lord Chief- Justice,” Pistol aptly rejoins, “ Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also.” Andin Henry VI., when alluding to the same dead King, Henry V., in the words of a true poet, Shakespeare makes Sir William Lucy exclaim— ‘¢ Thus, while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth.” The bill is straight at the base, and covered with a cere— either thinly covered with hair or naked—plain, or carunculated, with wattles, like a turkey cock. Their legs are muscular, and generally short; the tarsi and feet naked—the latter armed with strong but not very hooked talons or claws. They subsist chiefly on carrion and decomposing animal matter; but those which come nearest the true type—the Malconidwe—occasionally prey upon life. They are mostly all inhabitants of warm regions, where they act as scavengers—a very important and salutary part in the wise economy of Nature—in these hot climates, by clearing the surface of noxious and putrid remains of animal life. Their wings are ample and powerful, and their flight, which can be long sustained, is generally in wide circles, wheeling round and round, broader and higher, to have a ereater sweep and altitude, from whence their telescopic eyes can pierce the farthest distance in search of food. It was long, and so far justly, thought that it was the power of scent which directed this class of birds to their putrifying food; but, although they do possess this faculty in a high degree of excellence—for Nature is no niggard of her gifts when she has a purpose to fulfil—yet it is more due to their keen and piercing eye, by which their useful mission on the earth is so THE VULTURES. 41 beneficially accomplished. Although Mr Waterton says he is “convinced that it is the olfactory nerves coming in contact with putrid matter, and not by its eyesight, that the vulture is made aware of its prey ; for, as the air produced by putrefac- tion is lighter than common air, it ascends and is carried through the atmosphere by every gust of wind; the vulture, soaring above, and coming in contact with this tainted current, instinc- tively follows it down to its source, and finds that which is destined by all-wise Nature to be its support, and be one of the scavengers of this globe ;” I hardly agree with this, for vultures eye their prey often before life is extinct, and before any putre- faction commences. In general, they are of a cowardly nature, preying on dead carcases and offal—often putrid. Their gullet dilates into a large crop, which, when distended with garbage, projects above the furcular bone. When gorged the vulture is reduced to a state of stupidity (a pretty fair type of scavengers generally), and a fetid humour is discharged from their nostrils. The vultures, as Mr Swainson remarks, ‘are the greatest scavengers of Nature in hot climates, where putrefaction is most rapid and most injurious to health, and the disposition of their numbers is regulated by an all-wise Creator according to their usefulness.” They are sparingly scattered over the south of Europe. In Egypt they are more numerous; but in tropical America, although the species are fewer, the individuals are much more plentiful. No sooner is an animal dead than its carcase is surrounded by numbers of these birds, which suddenly appear coming from all quarters, in situations where not one had © just before been seen. The bareness of the head and frequently of the neck is most apparent in those whose geographical range is limited to the New World. At the head of this division stand two remarkable species—the celebrated condor of the Andes, and the Papa or king vulture of the Brazilian forests. The first is well-known for the loftiness of its flight and its amazing strength, while the latter is the only species (except the neophron) whose colouring is not dark or sombre. The condor measures eleven feet across the wings when extended, and his strength is equal to his great size. Another gigantic species, which inhabits the greater part of Africa, is called the sociable vulture—Vultur Auricularis—its head also and greater part of the neck are red and naked. The folds of red, naked skin, and the black, curling hairs and feathers—like a ruff—give this huge bird a singular and forbidding appearance. In size he is fully equal to the condor. The nest is usually built in the D 42, VULTURIDS. fissures of high, rocky cliffs. Like most of the species, the number of eggs is generally two or three. During incubation the male keeps watch at the entrance of the cave. It has been wisely observed of this gigantic species that it is a “ fit natural machine for assisting in the clearance of the soil of Africa from the putrid bodies of elephants, hippopotamuses, rhinoceruses, and giraffes.” It haunts the caverns of rocks, and is altogether a mountain bird—although it feeds on the carrion scattered on the plains below. Its nights are spent among the lofty crags, where it retires to repose when it has sated it appetite. Levaillant saw large flocks of them perched at sunrise on the precipitous entrances to their abodes, and sometimes the rocky region was marked by a continuous chain of these birds. Their tails are worn down by friction against their craggy haunts, and by the soil of the plains in their laborious efforts to raise them- selves into the air, especially when nearly gorged with carrion. But when on the wing their flight is grand and powerful. They wheel higher and higher up their aerial vault, till their great bulk is lost to human ken. Like a stone cast upon the unruffled face of a lake slumbering in the bosom of the mountains, so does the vulture, like a living stone cast upwards against the azure face of the sky, ever widen the receding circle of its upward flight, until, like the spent rings on the lake, they become gradually attenuated till lost in the blue vault above. And as Shakespeare beautifully says in “ Timon of Athens’— **No levell’d malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no track behind.” But though beyond the range of human vision, the natural telescope of the vulture is at work. The moment any animal within the wide sweep of that piercing eye sinks to the earth in death, the imperceptible vulture detects, and swoops down upon it. Does the hunter bring down some large quadruped beyond his powers to remove, and leave it to obtain help? On his return, however speedy, he finds it surrounded by a flock of vultures, where not one was seen but a quarter ofan hour before. In his *“Thalaba, the Destroyer,” Southey gives a dreary but true picture of the longing of a parched wanderer in the desert :— **Oh, for the vulture’s scream, Who haunts for prey the abode of mankind ! Oh, for the plover’s pleasant cry, To tell of water near.” THE VULTURES. 43. Before quitting this subject, I may mention that Audubon, in his ‘‘ Birds of America ” insists, and rightly too, that it is the organs of sight—not those of smell—that enable vultures and other birds of prey to discover carcases at such immense dis- tances as they do. He says—‘‘ We were led to question the: accuracy of this opinion on the observations of some travellers, - who remarked birds of prey directing their course towards dead: animals floating in the rivers of India, where the wind blows steadily from one point in the compass for many months in succession. It is not easy to conceive the effluvia from a dead, carcase in the water should proceed in direct opposition to the current of air and affect the olfactory nerves of birds at so many miles distant.” In order to satisfy himself on this point he (Audubon) “ made several experiments, one of which was—he stuffed and dried the skin of a deer, exposed, and retired from it. A vulture soon approached, attacked its eyes (which were made of painted clay), then walked to the other extremity, tore; some of the stitches, until much of the fodder and hay with which it was stuffed was pulled out; and, after repeated attempts to discover flesh, took to flight. Afterwards, he had a large dead hog put into a ravine, and concealed it in the briars. He saw many vultures pass over it, but some approached it after several dogs made a meal of it. He then tried to approach it himself, but found the stench too intolerable, and had to retire.” So that, if scent was all that led the vulture to its putrefying food, this hog might have been consumed by maggots for all that vultures knew. I can so far corroborate this from personal observation at the side of Loch Brora. A gamekeeper showed me the carcase of a large red-deer stag, about twenty stone weight, which had lain there under the trees for several, days, in April 1881, close to Carrol Rock, where about a dozen ravens roosted every night. It lay untouched because unseen amongst the underwood ; it had a very strong scent, but would not have lain a single day untouched if exposed to their piercing eyes on the open hills. Even Job, in the sublime old drama of that name, says—“ There is a path which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture’s eye hath not seen.” Some authors, however, maintain that the vulture finds out carrion lying in the midst of dense forests where the eye could not penetrate. But, as to this, I cannot speak from my own experience, which, after all, is the chief feature of my little book. | 44 THE GRIFFON VULTURE. THE GRIFFON VULTURE (Vultur Fulvus). Linn. - This vulture is not so large as the preceding. It inhabits the mountainous parts of the north of Europe, Silesia, Dal- matia, the Tyrol, Spain (where, near Gibraltar, it is abundant), the Alps, the Pyrenees, Turkey, and the Grecian Archipelago. Its nest is usually made upon the most elevated and inaccessible rocks, or upon the highest trees of the forest. Its eggs (like the rest of the tribe) are generally two or three in number, of a dull greenish or greyish white, slightly marked with pale, reddish spots, and have a rough surface. The one I measured is 33 long by 23 inches. The single occurrence of a solitary specimen of this bird in Ireland being communicated to Mr Yarrel, he figured it in his Supplement to his “ British Birds.” I have therefore intro- duced it here. We have the best account of its habits by Le Vaillant, who says they lay two eggs generally, but sometimes, though rarely, three. At this time they resort in great numbers to the rocks in the highest situations, and that a single precipice will contain as many nests as there are suitable places for them. The birds live very amicably together (like our common guillemots, rooks, or herons). He has seen three. nests placed side by side in the same cave. During incubation the male stands sentinel at the mouth of the hole, thus pointing out where the nest is, but that is almost always inaccessible. He often risked his life to examine the eggs and young birds ; and, with the aid of his Hottentot assistants, sometimes over- came all difficulties—although the approach to their retreat was so slippery as greatly to increase the danger of getting at the den itself. Like all birds of this tribe it feeds principally upon carrion, to which it is often attracted in considerable numbers. When it has once made a lodgment upon its prey it rarely quits it while a morsel of flesh remains, so that it is not uncommon to see it perched on a putrefying carcase for several successive days. It never attempts to carry off a portion—even for its young—but feeds them by disgorging the half-digested carrion from its maw. But this characteristic is not confined to the vulture. For the common pigeon and rook, having first filled their own crop or maw, fly home to their young, and by dis- gorging feed them. Our next vulture friend is THE EGYPTIAN NEOPHRON. 45 THE EcypTiaAN NEOPHRON (Vultur Perenopterus ), Innn., which stands next in order of the Raptores, and set down also as an O.V., frem having once been shot in Britain. It is the smallest of all the vultures, which, besides its usefulness as a scavenger in Egypt, may have given rise to its synonym of ‘‘Pharaoh’s chicken.” It inhabits chiefly the shores of the Mediterranean sea. The adult has the front of the head, the upper part of the throat, and cere naked, and of a bright yellow or pale flesh colour. The plumage is pure white, with the exception of the quill feathers, which are black. The legs, feet, and base of the bill are yellow or pale grey, which handsome livery gives the neophron—in spite of his carrion-gorging habits ‘—a rather striking and attractive appearance. This general bearing brings him nearer to the typical falcon than his more forbidding though as useful congeners. The plumage is the same in the adults of both sexes. But the young of the first year are of a dark brown, slightly spotted, with lighter brown and white, and do not attain their mature livery until two or three years. The specimen alluded to was shot in Somersetshire, in October 1825. When first seen it was feeding on a dead sheep, and had so gorged itself as to be unable or unwilling to fly to any great distance, and was therefore approached without much difficulty and shot. Another bird similar was seen at the same time upon the wing, at no great distance, which remained in the neighbourhood a few days, but could never be approached within range, and was supposed to be the mate of the one killed. Mr Selby, who had the shot bird in his posses- sion for description, says—‘“‘ Judging from the description given by Temnick and others—indicate a young bird, probably of the first or second year.” Like many other species of this order the changes of the plumage in its progress to maturity, and the different appearance it has under each, have given rise to the - fictitious creation of several supposed species, as is evident from the great number of synonyms—no less than twenty can be quoted—-which could all be traced to the same species. In its affinities it is closely allied to those American vultures -which form the genus Cathartes, as now restricted by many ornithologists, and may, in fact, be considered as their repre- sentative on the ancient Continent. It also, in some respects, 46 . THE EGYPTIAN NEOPHRON. connects the more typical vultures with the genus Gypztus, leading immediately to the VFalconide, represented by that powerful and daring species Vultur Barbatus, or bearded vulture. In these genera a deviation of structure is perceptible, which serves not only to complete the circle of their own family, but to connect it with those belonging to the other order of the class. Its habits are very similar to those of the American Catharte, as it rejects no dead animal matter, delighting even in the most putrid carrion. On this account it is held in deserved respect, and protected by the inhabitants of those countries in which it abounds as an able coadjutor in clearing away the filth and putrid matter which, in climates so hot, would otherwise become pestilential. It occasionally preys upon lizards and other reptiles, but is rarely known to attack the smaller lving quadrupeds or birds. It is also of a more timid and cowardly nature—destitute of the boldness that characterises the larger and more typical vultures. But it possesses great power of flight, from the wings being very long and ample. The tail is equally long and wedge-shaped, which enables it to soar in circles with great buoyancy. And, doubtless, as in the rest of the tribe, it is in their erial flights that it spies its food below. Its cry is seldom heard, and when at rest it sits upon the ground with the wings drooping—a habit common to the Vulturide. 3 Very little information is to be had in the works of Continental naturalists with regard to the habits of this species. ‘Temnick says that they are numerous on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees, in Malta and Turkey, sometimes in Italy, and as far as Switzerland, but nowhere so abundant as in Africa, and they breed in those precipices which are the most difficult of access. A recent egg-collector says—‘ Two nests of this species were found in the vicinity of Arles, on the Pyrenees, each of which had two eggs. The next summera third nest was found on the Pie de St Loup, near Montpelier, which had in it only ‘one egg.” But he omits to say whether or not the egg was deep ‘sitten or the bird only in course of laying. Mr Wolley (another egg-collector) got eggs of this species from a dealer in eggs, when on a visit to Tangier, who assured him that the old bird was ‘shot on the nest of one of them. The dealer said that it makes its nest at the end of March, in the crevices and caves of rocks—usually in an inaccessible per- -pendicular cliff; that it lays in April one or two eggs, which are hatched about the end of May—the young remain in their VULTUR PERENOPTERUS. 47 nest till July, before which time they are incapable of flight. Of four sets of eggs taken in Western Barbary there were two pairs and two single eggs. The neophron is nowhere so plentiful as in Egypt, particularly about Cairo, where it was considered a great breach of law, at the time the Abyssinian traveller Bruce wrote, to kill one. in Cairo and other Egyptian towns it occupies the roofs of houses (like our common jackdaw) in company with black kites, hawks, crows, and turtle doves—all forming a distinct popula- tion, not less numerous but more peaceable than that below. Bruce says that the Arab name of Rachama still applied to this bird proves that it was the emblem of parental affection, which is so frequently mistranslated eagle in the Bible. ‘‘ Oh, that I had the wings of the eagle to flee away and be at rest,” is an apt expression, as the vulture can fly at the rate of 150 miles an hour. Theold proverb says truly—“ Riches certainly make them- selves wings; they fly away as an eagle towards heaven.” And old Jeremiah also truly says—‘ Though thou should’st make thy nest as high as the eagle, I will bring thee down from thence, saith the Lord ;” which Obadiah reiterates by saying— “Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord.” And Samuel says that Saul and Jonathan ‘‘ were swifter than eagles and stronger than lions ;” thus identifying the king of birds with the king of beasts. In South Africa, Le Vaillant found a pair attached to most of the dwellings of the natives, generally seated upon the fences with which they enclose their cattle, where they are not only uninjured by the owners, but are objects of pleasure to them— eating greedily what they refuse. They are occasionally collected in numbers round their food, like the larger vultures. During the French occupation of Egypt the first shot of the cannon brought these and other birds of similar tastes from every direction. For as the blue-bottle fly will collect and buzz around the shambles in time of peace, so does the vulture— true to its own instinct, in warm climates—wheel above the field of battle and pounce upon the dead in times of barbarous war. The proof that boasted civilization has not yet fulfilled its harmonizing mission upon earth—if it ever will do so! The eggs of this species are highly coloured, and differ very much in their shape and colour—some are dark red, like the kestrel’s or merlin’s ;_ others lighter, more like the golden eagle’s, but smaller. The egg they are likest is the osprey’s—some are 48 FALCONID. beautifully marked with light and dark streaks, blotches, and spots, on a purplish ground; some have a lighter ground and darker spots, but, as birds’ egos are merely the painted outside shell of the embryo young within, they vary much in colour and size—even of the same species. ‘And yet there is hardly a more interesting subject for study in Nature’s world than a bird’s egg. The shell itself isa marvel. If you notice a fowl seeking food you will see it picking up small bits of shells, bones, sand, and gravel. Now these are the materials from which the shell of the egg is made—chiefly of carbonate of lime—which the bird has the marvellous power of dissolving and spreading with equal thickness over the whole surface of the egg, which at first has only the thin skin over it which we find under the shell, so that when laid, the young bird comes forth enclosed in the most perfect mineral packing-box in the world. I need not follow this interesting subject further, but merely say that from Hewitson’s beautiful “Coloured Illustrations of the Eggs of British Birds” I see the eggs of this vulture are about 22 inches long by 2} inches in diameter. The size of the bird shot in Somersetshire was 5 feet 9 inches across the wings, and 2 feet 7 inches from beak to tip of tail. From this brief sketch my readers can form a fair idea of the two rare vultures found in Britain. THE FALCONIDA. As I have placed the vultures, through these two rare foreigners, jivst in the order of the Raptores, I set down this Falconide next, as the true first of the order—the Gypogeranidz is awanting—none of this family having been found in Britain. The Falconide, which therefore form the second typical family of the order in Britain, embrace all birds of prey that feed im the day time, in distinction to the owls or nocturnal birds of prey, which constitute the third and last family of the order. (Linnzus and other systematists included all the diurnal birds of prey in the extensive genus Falco). In these, except in the species immediately connected with the vultures, the head is clothed with feathers, the bill short and strong—much hooked ; and in the typical species, such as the true falcons, curving from the base, which is covered with a naked coloured cere (all that is left of the naked head of the vulture). The nostrils are in the cere, the legs are muscular and strong—but not very long— FALCONS AND ALLIED SPECIES. 49 unless in the sparrow-hawk and gos-hawk. The tibial joint or thigh, however, is pretty long, which acts as a lever when pouncing upon and seizing their prey. They seldom use their beak in killing. This is done by their powerful talons—one stroke behind the head, another at the heart, generally suffices. The bill is then used as a knife or pair of scissors in cutting up the body. To aid them in the mission Nature has assigned them to do, their claws are very sharp and strong, much curved, and, in general, partly retractile. To symmetry of form they unite great strength and activity, and the typical groups possess a power of flight—both as to speed and duration—superior to most of the feathered race. Being armed by Nature to carry out their mission of rapine, and acting on the same principle with //fe which the vultures do with death—thinning exuberance of animal life. And if it were not for the pail or the burn, the tub or the sea, utilised by prudent housewifery or reckless youth, Nature would have to provide some other species of human vulture or eagle to keep down the swarm of kittens and puppies, which otherwise would, like Pharaoh’s plagues of frogs and lice, infest the homes of civilized hfe. And, regarding the varying species of humanity, war, especially so-called religious ones—cupidity, self-interest, and hunger, and the natural desires of man and woman, called love— along with Nature’s own balancers of life, such as fevers, choleras, and diseases of all kinds, make a pretty efficacious substitute for those useful birds of prey—the vulture or the harrier, the eagle, the hawk, or the falcon, in keeping the world wisely safe as regards the universal balance of species. However, regarding our feathered friends the Falconide, their power of sight, like their claws, is equally acute and piercing. They are also dis- tinguished by courage and audacity—they know they are armed, and are not slow in using their weapons when playing their part in the wise economy of Nature. They prey almost wholly on living creatures, which they either strike on the wing (as the falcons or hawks) or pounce upon it on the ground, like the ‘buzzards or kites. Birds and quadrupeds are the usual food of most of the species. Some, however, prey on fish, like the osprey, and others live on the larger coleopterous insects. They tear their prey in pieces with their bill and claws; but their claws are the weapons by which they kill, squeezing their victims to death. As complete plucking or skinning would be too tedious work, they swallow portions of the feathers, bones, or fur, which they afterwards eject from the mouth in pellets. 50 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. ‘They generally lead. a wandering, solitary life, or associate in pairs—male and female—a habit with eagles. The numbers of this family, as might be expected from their typical character and mission, are numerous, and distributed over the globe ; for wherever there is exuberance in life there will be robbers and plunderers; as wherever there is death there will also be scavengers and gravediggers. Many of the species, in their progress to maturity, have great changes of plumage, sometimes taking two, three, four, and even five years to mature ; consequently, an augmentation of supposed ‘species and confusion has been the result, through want of dis- cernment and hasty conclusions. The gradual increase of knowledge, however, and careful observation, have cleared up many of the doubts in which the history of several species have been so long involved. Amongst those naturalists who have recently done so much for the advancement of this branch of science, Temnick and Montague deserve to be ranked amongst the first, as it is mainly due to their close study that many of the essential points have been cleared up. THE GOLDEN EAGLE OR MOUNTAIN EAGLE. (falco Chrysaetos.) Linn. (Aquila Chrysaétus.) Selby. “Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird, Show thy descent by gazing ’gainst the sun.” —Henry VI. Having introduced the two vultures into this little work, I shall now introduce a native of the wild and rugged rocks and heath-clad hills of Scotland—“ My own, my native land,” as Scott has it—and draw the portrait of a true Gael—that king of birds, the so-called golden eagle. I say so-called, for, if we except his eye, cere, legs, and tips of feathers, there is nothing golden about hin, but a plain, dusky-brown, ‘daring, and bold- looking bird—in every respect a true type of bonnie, brave, auld Scotland, whose hardy sons, much more than the military eagles of Rome, have swept over and helped to colonize every quarter of the globe, and on many a freedom’s battlefield at ‘home and throughout the world, when helping to build up the great British Empire, have proved themselves amongst men ‘what the golden eagle is amongst birds. For notwithstanding his partial misnomer, a genuine Scot and true Briton is the ‘golden eagle, and stands at the head of the Falconidz, which is . AQUILA CHRYSAETUS. 51 ‘divided into a sub-family Aquilina, genus Aquila—hence the ‘Latin name Aguila Chrysaéta. ‘ The distinguishing characters of this sub-family consist in ‘superiority of § size, in ‘having the bill longer and straighter at the ‘base than in the more typical falcons, in which respect they ‘come nearer the vulture family. The feathers of the head and neck are sharp-pointed. In some of the species the head and throat are partially bare. Their legs are generally short and muscular, their talons long, very strong, and much hooked. In this sub-division are the most powerful and destructive birds of the family, although some of them have more of the vulture in their form and disposition, are less predaceous—often content to feed on prey already dead, and, in some intances, on carrion. This, however, does not apply to the golden eagle, which is the only species of the sub-family found in Britain, is the largest and noblest of all the European eagles, and, as a favourite of Nature, is said to live a hundred years to carry on its mission of murder. Having said this much about the sub-family in which ‘the golden eagle is placed, I shall now treat of his own generic character. As usual with the sexes of this family the female is much the largest, being from beak to end of tail 37 inches long, and 87 inches in extent of wings; while the male is only 33 inches from beak to end of tail, and 72 inches across from wing to wing—the one ranging from 3 feet to 3 feet 3 inches long, and from 7 feet to 8 feet across—the other from 2 feet 6 inches to 2 feet 10 inches, and from 5 feet 6 inches to 6 feet across from the tips of the wings. Bewick mentions one killed near Warkworth, which was 11 feet across the wings. The female weighs from 12 to 16 pounds. The bill and claws are nearly black, shaded at the base with greyish blue, with a yellow cere, eyes large, deep sunk, and covered by projecting brows, which gives him, even in confinement, a wild, truculent look ; ‘the iris bright hazel, almost chestnut. The bill is 2# inches Jong, straight at the base, strong, and much hooked at the point, the sides inclining upwards, forming a narrow ridge or culmen ‘—the tomia or cutting edges of the mandible having a faint lobe near the base of the hook. The wings are ample and powerful, reaching when closed to the end of the tail. The general colour of the bird is deep brown, glossed with purple. The legs are yellow, covered with feathers down to the toes, and measure -3 inches round ; the thigh 74 inches ; the tarsus 43 inches long ; the toes short but thick, and armed with long and very sharp curved talons, grooved underneath—those on the outer 52 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. and hind toes being the longest. For while the hind and second toes are only about 1? inches long, their formidable talons are nearly 3 inches long, which enables him or her to pierce the heart and squeeze to death almost instantaneously such birds as plovers and grouse, as if Nature meant no bungling cruelty in her work, designing him to be while cruel yet merciful. As Othello said when stabbing Desdemona— **T that am cruel am yet merciful ; I would not have thee linger in thy pain.” But, what does all our study or moralising come to?’—but to show how wise and perfect Nature is in all her works, From the claw of the golden eagle to the bill of the golden-crested wren— from a blade of grass up to the meridian sun—all is a science, a study, and perfection. The stars are numbered—worlds wheel in space, each in their own circle—have their own order—their own family, so to speak—their own sub-family—even their own genus, perhaps their own creation, for aught we know. Yet all wheeling in harmonious order—never jarring, unless for the wisest purpose—all working in a science of eternal order. This known—the science of ail life, as well as of birds, is known— yet the Creation and the Creator alike unsearchable and unknown! ‘Touching this, as already said, “all we know is, nothing can be known” beyond the one grand order—Liéfe, and the other equally powerful order of Death’ The one caused by the other—even though it be by the talon of a golden eagle piercing the heart of a grouse, or a blow from the club of Cain. The golden eagle is not more distinguished for its size and strength than for its destructive habits, although it does not have the same faculty of pursuing its prey upon wing as the falcons and hawks ; for, though its flight is very powerful, it is not capable of the rapid evolutions which mark the aérial attacks of these birds; consequently their prey is mostly pounced upon on the ground. They attack the larger birds and some animals, not even despising the little mole ; but, unless pressed by extreme hunger, refuse to feed upon carrion or any prey already dead. They prefer to hunt and kill for themselves. Their form is compact and strong; their gait and aspect active and alert, entirely devoid of the sluggish look which characterises the genera more closely allied to the vultures. This powerful and magnificent bird does not frequent the lowland part of Scotland, to which I intend chiefly to con- fine my work ; and, so far as I know, has only been seen twice in the district of St Andrews during the last fifty years. About AQUILA CHRYSAETUS. 53. 1840 I recollect seeing a large bird soaring above Stravithie Wood and Prior Moor—all woods and moorland wilds then— » which was set down by myself and others as a golden eagle. The snow was on the ground at the time. About thirty years ago another two were seen in the vicinity of Mount Melville and Drumcarrow Craig. Several people tried to shoot them, but could not get within range; and, from observation noted at the time, they were a pair of golden eagles. But, although out of their latitude in Fife, yet when we consider that the Ochils and Sidlaw mountains, with the Grampians towering up beyond, are easily seen from Drumearrow Craig, and calculating the great distance the golden eagle could fly—about a hundred miles in an hour—(the peregrine falcon can fly one hundred and fifty miles an hour), there is nothing improbable, or even singular, in his being seen soaring above our lowland Fifeshire. He might be with us the one hour, the next hovering above the peaks of Ben Ledi or Benvenue, or sweeping down the glens of Braemar ; although, as a rule, the golden eagle seldom strays far from his. native haunts—unlike the white-tailed sea eagle, which is of a more roving disposition. As the two solitary vultures already noted are set down as O.V. in the British birds, so have I set down these three golden eagles as O.V. in my list of St Andrews birds. Although the name golden is not altogether appropriate, as already remarked, still, his dark brown body may be said to be bound with gold—trom the pale yellow cere and dark yellow iris which encircles his fiery and piercing eyeball, down to the golden hue which peers through the feathers that clothe his powerful tarsus to the feet ; the toes also, to their very extremity, where they join the long black retractile claws, are rich yellow. The elongated orange-coloured feathers on the head and neck of this striking, bold-looking bird, also fringed with deep yellow, gives him a noble if not altogether a golden appearance. **'Yet looks he like a king; behold his eye As bright as in the eagle’s, lightens forth Controlling majesty.” —Richard II. While his powerful wings, alert and fearless demeanour, give him all the proud look which indicates strength and daring, and entitles him not only to the stamp but the golden rank of being king of the feathered tribe—at least on the same principle that the lion is said to be the king of the forest—not on account of his size, intelligence, or usefulness, but for that half mesmeric, unlovable power of being able to strike down others, and a nameless feeling in man to associate greatness with the power 54 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. to kill—no matter whether it be a golden eagle, a lion, a Cesar, an Alexander, or a Bonaparte. As Shakespeare says in ‘¢ Cymbeline”— ‘* Last night the very gods shew’d me a vision, I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, wing’d From the spongy south to this part of the west, Then vanish’d in the sunbeams ; which portend (Unless my sins abuse my divination) Success to the Roman host.” He also says in the same Play-— ‘The Roman eagle, From south to west, on wing soaring aloft Lessened herself, and, in the beams o’ the sun So vanish’d ; which foreshow’d our princely eagle, The imperial Cesar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.” To illustrate this still more, Byron, speaking of Waterloo, says— ** And Harold stands upon this place of skulls, The grave of France, the deadly Waterloo ! How, in an hour, the power which gave annuls Its oifts, transferring fame as fleeting too ; In pride of place here last the eagle flew, Then tore, with bloody talon, the rent plain ! ! Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through.” But, although a life-ravaging marauder, he is not a cruel one —1in the same sense that the cat is cruel—which, after catching the wee timorous mousie will let it away again and again, for no other purpose than to gratify her savage sport, until the little sufferer, so tortured by claws and teeth, only dies when its tormentor is tired of her crue] pastime. On the contrary, the golden eagle kills at once, and never gloats over death nor destroys more life than necessary to appease his own or his offspring’s wants. Fierce, active, and daring in the execution of his royal mission, his conscience is free and light as the mountain air through which he cleaves—he gets his license and commission to kill direct from Nature ; but, unlike Cain, he is a murderer from the beginning—as free from envy as from the qualms of conscience. Conscience, which makes cowards of all men, makes no coward of him, By the special order of Nature, mercy and pity, like cruelty and envy, have no place in his disposition. There is no humbug—no Macbeth-like fear or Hamlet-like hesitation with him in murder; like the ancient human Gael, lawless to all but his own clan, ** For why ?—because the good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.’ AQUILA CHRYSAETUS, 5g So boldly typified by the red gregarach, Rob Roy, the outlawed robber of Glengyle ; like Rob, the golden eagle feels himself proscribed by all but Nature and freedom. He disdains the cat- like inclination to kill for killing’s sake; he needs sustenance ; he cannot pick grain nor feed on grass; he craves for life; he knows he has the power, and he takes it without any qualm of conscience wherever and whenever he can. Tennyson draws a true picture when he says— ‘* He clasps the crag with crooked hands: Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls. He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.” Or, as Burns says, on scaring some water-fowl in Loch Turrit— ‘* The eagle, from the cliffy brow, Marking you his prey below, In his breast no pity dwells, Strong necessity compels.” He goes about armed for murder—'tis life he seeks. Nature has given him the arms to take it, and whenever he gets the chance, and needs it, the quickest mode is his—one blow on the back of the head, another at the heart, and the deed is done. For, his long needle-pointed claws encircle and squeeze like a living vice in mercy to the bird within their grasp; for wise Nature has so powerfully, yet so mercifully, gifted him to take speedily the life he seeks. In his beautiful poem of ‘“ Venus and Adonis,” Shakespeare draws a fine simile of the amorous goddess kissing the young god of love, and a hungry eagle tearing its prey— ‘* ven as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone, Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste, Till either gorge be stuffed or prey be gone, Even so she kiss’d his brow, his cheek, his chin, And where she ends she doth anew begin.” But, although he disdains to feed on what he does not kill, unless pressed by hunger, he or she has been often shot on carcases placed near a covered pit where the gunner lay con- cealed. And, as another proof that they sometimes feed on carrion, no less than nine have been seen at one time feeding on the carcase of a horse in the Highlands—not a hundred yards distant from the house from which they were seen; but such a sight may never be seen again in Scotland, for they can scarcely exist now in their native haunts—driven away, like the crofters, 56 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. and almost extirpated by the rifled tubes of man. Each rocky craig and eulah will soon be an empty throne. The white-tailed sea eagle will likely be the last to disappear from our sea-girt | isles— ‘*More pity that the eagle should be mew’d While kites and buzzards prey at liberty ;” an apt expression, which Shakespeare makes Hastings say to the bloody-minded human kite, Glo’ster, who had got his brother Clarence immured in prison. Although well adapted for the purpose, his strong hooked bill is seldom used to kill, his sharp talons being sufficient to pierce the heart or brain and steal away the life. Yet a better pair of natural scissors or forceps than his two mandibles for cutting, skinning, or plucking, cannot be found. His eye also, like his talons, beak, and wings, is of the highest state of perfection. When almost lost to sight in the air he can detect a grouse amongst the heather, and swoop down from the vast height like a thunderbolt and squeeze it to death without the chance of escape; and, just before touching the earth in his headlong plunge, has the wonderful power of arresting his fall at the proper moment, saving himself by his outstretched wings and tail. It is when soaring at a great altitude that he searches for his prey—a proof that scent with him has no part in the selection, whatever it may have with the vulture ; but they often fly low over the surface, just as buzzards, harriers, and sparrow-hawks do. Their prey consists of fawns, lambs, hares, rabbits, black and red grouse, ptarmigans, curlews, plovers, &c. ; but barnyard fowls, pigs, and even young children have been carried off by this ruthless and indiscriminate plunderer. A proof that “* Dangers, eagle-pinion’d, bold, Soar around each cliffy hold ; While cheerful peace, with linnet song, Chants the lowly dells among.” A shepherd in the Hebrides saw two golden eagles attack a full-sized doe so fiercely, in the winter time, that had he not interfered they would have killed her, and, to corroborate this, the Jedburgh Advertiser, of date 13th December 1884, states— ‘* A few days ago a singular struggle was witnessed on the lower portion of Corrie-Mor, at a short distance from Glassburn House, between a large and powerful eagle and a finely antlered stag. The king of birds was watched for some time hovering above a herd of deer, which seemed to have articular attractions for him. The noble bird was slowly descending, as he majestically sailed around in his erial circles, getting by degrees nearer to his coveted quarry. At last, reaching striking distance, he suddenly came to a halt in mid-air, and, poising himself on outspread wings, he _AQUILA CHRYSAETUS. 5% seemed for a few seconds perfectly motionless. Then, like a bullet from a rifle, he swooped down, and in an instant his powerful talons were firmly fixed in the back of a fine large stag. The monarch of the glen plunged about in the wildest possible manner, evidently in great terror and pain, the eagle holding grimly on, belabouring the stag’s sides all the while with heavy blows from his powerful wings, and, when opportunity offered, making desperate darts with his beak at the eyes of the frightened stag. By this time the poor stag’s brown sides were red and gory, and, notwith- standing his frantic efforts, he could not disengage himself from his strong and cruel foe. At last, seeming to discover that his antlers could reach his savage enemy, he began raking fore and aft with them in the most vigorous manner, until he managed to send the eagle sprawling in the heather. The stag had gallantly freed himself, but he had not bounded far when his fierce assailant, recovering from his discomfiture, was again on the wing in full chase, and in a few seconds down he came again and firmly fixed his powerful claws in the deer’s haunches, so far back as to be out of the reach of his antlers. At this juncture, as if in despair, the stag commenced to tumble about, throwing himself on the ground and rolling over down hill ; but still the eagle seemed incapable of letting go its tenacious grip. The stag then put his head down between his forelegs, throwing himself clean over—heels over head—several times. It was indeed a wild, a wonderful, and a most unusual sight. The stag’s efforts were at last successful, and, after getting clear of his murderous enemy, he galloped off. The eagle was, however, speedily up again and in full chase ; but his intended victim made his escape sure by rushing full speed down the hill and into the Glassburn woods. ; I have given this singular struggle in full, as it is the best description of such a large quadruped being attacked by an eagle I have read or seen described by an eye-witness, and can be relied on ; and, as showing the characteristic mode of attack and determination of the eagle, is worthy of record. In his “Excursion,” Wordsworth gives a fine trait of the spirit of a young peasant hero’s respect for the king of birds— ** With admiration would he lift his eyes To the wide-ruling eagle, and his hand Was loth to assault the majesty he loved ; Else had the strongest fastnesses proved weak To guard the royal brood. . . . forall Were subject to young Oswald’s steady aim, And lived by his forbearance.” And we all know the patriot Tell’s forbearance, when, with his bow in his hand, he turned away when the eagle was soaring overhead— ** And could not shoot,—’twas Liberty.” Nor can we forget the grand idea of Byron’s tribute to Kirke Whyte when the wounded eagle saw that it was a feather from his own pinion that had sped the arrow to his heart. It was that which caused the deepest wound— ‘T'was thine own genius gave the final blow, And help’d to plant the wound that laid thee low. 58 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. So the struck eae stretch’d upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View’d his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing’d the shaft that quiver’d in his heart. Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel ; While the same plumage that had warmed his nest Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.” There is a tradition in the north of Scotland of an eagle having taken up a child from behind some reapers, in the parish of Ophir, and carried it to hernest in Hoy ; but by the assiduity of the people who saw it and immediately followed her, the child was rescued—only partiallyinjured, and recovered. Andin the island of Harris a similar tradition is told of a golden eagle having carried a child across the Minch to the island of Skye— a distance of over sixteen miles. Some time ago when a clergyman was walking, with his gun, in the Highlands, he saw an eagle making off with a pretty large pig in her talons, which she dropped when fired at. Sometimes the eagle catches a Tartar, and the biter gets bit, as the following authentic account of an encounter between one and a polecat, in the forest of Glenavon, Banffshire, proves :— **One of the keepers of the forest, being one day reclining on the side of a hill, saw an eagle hovering about, and darting suddenly down clutched a polecat, with which it rose up and flew away in the direction of a high cliff on the opposite hill. It had not gone far when he observed it descending in a spiral direction until it reached the ground. Led by curiosity he went to the spot—about a mile distant—and found the eagle quite dead, with its talons transfixed in the polecat. The polecat was also dead, with its teeth firmly fixed in the eagle’s gullet.” I can corroborate this by the death of kestrel falcons and a heron by weasels, in a similar manner. In 1879 I got the following interesting and authentic account of a young man meeting his death by a wounded eagle pulling the trigger of his gun :—In April 1852 the young fawns were being killed by a pair of golden eagles, at Rhendorrach, near UJlapool, Ross-shire. The son of the forester, Mr M‘Lean, a lad about eighteen years old, who knew where their eyrie was—high up in an inaccessible cliff—was determined to put a stop to the systematic thinning of the fawns. He got up very early one morning and went to the place with his double-barrelled gun. After waiting under cover he shot at one of the eagles and broke its wing—it fell, then immediately lay on its back, raised its claws, and, like a feathered Fitz James (who planted his back against a rock when opposed to Rhoderick Dhu and all his clan), was determined to sell its life dearly. No doubt if it could have spoken it would AQUILA CHRYSAETUS. 59 have said ‘“‘ This earth shall fly from its firm base as soon as I.” Be that as it may, the lad planted the butt end of his gun down on the bird, trying to take it alive, but in the struggle the eagle grasped the trigger of the other barrel and the shot went through his brain, killing him on the spot. He was found quite dead a few hours after, by his elder brother, who had come out to seek for him. The eagle was got close beside the body. It was ‘killed, taken to Inverness and stuffed. The man who told me was living at Ullapool at the time, and knew both the lad and his father, and was all but an eye-witness to the fact. I read in the Scotsman that a large golden eagle had been shot, with its leg firmly fixed ina large stamp. It was seen for several days flying about in the Highlands with the stamp hang- ing from its leg. It was a female, measuring 8 feet across. In the Braemar news of a district newspaper there lately appeared the following :— ‘EXTRAORDINARY EXPLOIT OF AN Eacie.—Last week Mr Abercrombie, gamekeeper, Invercauld Forest, having set three strong traps chained together (weighing in all 24 lbs.) for the purpose of catching foxes, was surprised next day to find that all his snaring tackle had disappeared. If a fox had been trapped, some traces must have remained. This led him to examine minutely the ground, but nothing could be seen. Puzzled, but bent on making a thorough search over the hill, he got three young men and returned to search, when, by chance, the missing property was found at the top of a beetling crag, nearly a mile up the hill, firmly imbedded in the soul, as if they had dropped from a great height. In this position they still remain, it being found impracticable to remove them owing to the frost. One of the traps contained the claw and part of an eagle’s foot, two inches long. An eagle, which was seen in the neighbourhood some days previous, had been caught in the fox-trap, procuring its liberty by the loss of its talons.” When the weight of the traps is considered, besides their being fixed in the ground, it is marvellous how the bird was able to wrench them away and fly with them to so great a height, which shows the great power of the golden eagle, and makes it no marvel that it should attack even the stag. In the Evening Telegraph of April 15th, 1884, I saw that a golden eagle was shot near Kirriemuir, by Mr Robbie, farmer, Gella Wateresk, when watching some ewes and lambs. He saw it hovering about where the lambs were. He ran for his gun. On returning he found it still hovering. Getting a favourable opportunity he brought it down with the first shot. It measured 7 feet across the wings, and 33 inches from tip of beak to end of tail. It was stuffed by Mr M‘Kenzie, bird- stuffer, Dundee. Lambs had been missed off several farms in the glen a week or two before. 60 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. On the 23rd of the same month another splendid specimen —also a female, measuring 7 feet across the wings—was shot by Mr Cox, gamekeeper, on the high parts of Dalna- brick hills. Another seen hovering about was supposed to be the male. From these recent snatches of its history, it might be thought that the golden eagle is not so rare after all in Scotland ; but these examples only prove how much it is hunted and shot down. In 1879 a dead eagle was found in Greece, with an arrow a foot long fixed in the flesh under the wing. The arrow was of African construction. So the wounded eagle had flown all the way from Africa—across the Mediterranean—with the arrow in its body. But, as already said, the eagle is noted for its speed and sustained power of flight, which is necessary for its marauding mission. Yet, for swiftness and sustained effort it is not to be compared to the little sand-martin, swallow, or swift, or even the little swallow-tailed hovering tern ; but for altitude—unless it be the condor of the Andes, and other vultures —no bird penetrates the clouds higher than the golden eagle—so well shown in the fable of the wren, which, in the competition for pre-eminence in flight, alighted unnoticed on the eagle’s back, and, waiting till the king of birds had reached his highest point, flew still higher, and claimed the prize before descending to its lowly shrubbery—a good illustration of but too many money-grubs, who craftily raise themselves up to success on the backs of others. Shakespeare not inaptly says in “ Titus Andronicus” :— **Ts the sun dimm’d that gnats fly in it? The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that, with the shadow of his wings, He can at pleasure stint their melody.” Domestic fowls are aware of the presence of an eagle soaring two thousand feet above them ; and ‘‘ Coriolanus” gives a fine illustration of the dread birds have of the eagle, thus— ‘*Cut me to pieces, Volsces ; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. Boy! False hound! If you have writ your annals true, ’tis there That, like an eagle in a dove-cot, I Flutter’d your Volscians in Coriolli ; Alone I did it—Boy !” And though Burns truly says— **'The eagle’s gaze alone surveys The sun’s meridian splendour,” AQUILA CHRYSAETUS. 61 Shakespeare says, in ‘‘ Love’s Labour Lost,” | ** A lover’s eye will yaze an eagle blind,” And that ‘Gold is of power to make an eagle’s speed.” Nest, Eacs, AND YOUNG. They make their nest in March, or early in April, being, like most of the tribe, early breeders. They often return to the same eyrie for many successive years, if they do not fall victims to their common enemies, the gun or stamp of man. The nest is large, tive or six feet across at the base, and composed of sticks and heather, with sometimes freshly-broken sprigs of Scotch or larch fir. The lining is of grass, moss, fern, and other vegetable materials nearest—indeed, birds generally select the materials readiest—at hand ; but there is invariably a large proportion of luzula sylvatica, green outside, but soon dried inside by the heat of the bird. The whole fabric, though apparently loose, is very firm; some of the understicks are an inch in diameter. It is wide and flat, something like a heron’s, but much larger, with a well-formed hollow in the centre about 14 inches in diameter and 4 inches deep. In Shetland, where sticks are scarce and sea tangles plenti- ful, the long tangles are taken to form the base, which when dried are even better than sticks, being more pliable. The eggs are laid at intervals of several days, and are generally two in number, sometimes three, sometimes one, so that the first egg is hatched before the second. When destruc- tion has found out their eyrie, the female is always shot first. The male then takes her place on the nest for several -days, until he gets tired, and seeks another mate, in which, consider- ing their scarcity, he wonderfully soon succeeds, possibly from Norway, unless he, too, falls a victim at the doomed spot. But I know of no instance where the male has brought out the eggs or reared the young by himself. The eggs are hatched at the end of April, and then the forays of the old birds become formidable. They are at first covered with grey down, but Mr Wolley took three from one nest ; and Mr Lelmon, in his bird- nesting account of Orkney, got a nest with three young ones in it. The eggs are beautitully coloured—a variegated pale and 62 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. dark purple ground, veined and blotched with red-brown, with streaks of black and yellow. The two before me are 34 and 3 inches long by 2# inches diameter in the centre. The golden eagle does not always allow her nest to be plundered with impunity, but often attacks those engaged in the spohation, and sometimes successfully. In Sutherlandshire two young men had a narrow eseape from being trundled down a precipice when carrying off the young, by the return of one of the old birds, who dashed at them ; but they stuck to their prize and reached safety. And in Forfarshire a farmer, in ascending to an eagle’s nest, was attacked by one of the old birds, and only escaped from his perilous position by throwing his bonnet to her, after which she flew to the ground, and having his gun, he had just time to shoot her as she was re- turning. The nest is generally on a high cliff in some solitary spot, sometimes in the highest fork of a tree springing from the mountain side, but oftener in a rocky ledge, hidden from above, and almost unapproachable from below. But it is often found quite exposed and easy of access, the solitude of the locality being more the motive of selection than a mere desire to hide it or place it beyond human reach—sometimes even lying on a grassy ledge on the brae, as much exposed and approachable as the eggs of the common tern which lie on the barren moor or sandy flat. Those who picture the eyrie of the king of birds as placed invariably beyond the reach of man, in some inaccessible precipice, or in some dark ravine high up in the mountain’s brow—associating in their mind’s eye the very name of eagle with the cloud-capped tops of inaccessible mountains—will have their dreams dispelled, like the mist on the brae, by the sun of simple truth, for both the golden eagle and his congener, the white-tailed sea eagle, of almost equal size, sometimes make their nest upon the ground. In the Orkneys an old woman came on a nest so placed, and walked home with the eggs in her apron. Mr Wolley, the best authority I know regarding the nest and eggs of the golden or mountain eagle, says he “has carefully examined eight or nine distinct eyries in Scotland, and visited the sites of many more. They have always been in mountainous districts, but only in one instance at any considerable elevation, and even there it was in a little cave or cell which seemed to offer advantages too great to be neglected. In every case they have been upon a ledge or step, with rock rising close behind them, and often AQUILA CHRYSAETUS. 63 overhanging the nest so as to shelter it.” He says—‘‘ A man upon whose word I can rely offered to show me an old nest placed upon the ground at the foot of a rock rising out of a hillside, and near it, also upon the ground, the nest of a previous year. Generally there is both soil and vegetation where the nest is placed, with not unfrequently a small tree growing in front of it. In many it is not more than twelve or twenty feet above the ground, and a man can easily climb to it. There is often a great precipice below and very little rock above the nest.” One was so close to the top that he climbed easily in and out from the level ground above. Near this, in the same ravine, there were three nests of other years, all accessible from below without the aid of ropes. It is common for eagles to have several places in different quarters, and they frequently repair two or three nests before choosing in which to lay their eggs. The same bird will select very different situations. A pair alternated between a crag quite inaccessible and a corner into which a child might climb. But besides this change of quarters the exact site is often altered from year to year, so that three or four nests of different ages may be seen within a few yards of each other. He once saw a newly-repaired one besides the one occupied. Yet some favourite eyries are used for ten, twelve, or more years in succession. Eagles are not gregarious; they © require too wide a field for themselves. Hence eaglets are expelled by their parents when able to look after themselves. In this apparent harshness the old birds yield obedience to a wise and beneficent natural law, for no glen could supply the wants of a family of full-grown eagles—an example which might be followed by human parents, especially the crofters in some of our Highland districts. Old Highlanders say there are rocks which have scarcely been without eagles’ nests in the memory of man. It is evident that they are influenced more by the seclusion than the inac- cessibility of the spot they select. They do not care for foxes, which often make their earths so as to be conveniently near the well-known larder. A more likely rock for an eyrie is a sub- divided one, with grassy ledges and sheltered corners, than one with a great perpendicular face; although the two eggs which Mr Hewitson selected for his ‘‘ Coloured Illustrations” were taken from an eyrie in a narrow crag several hundred feet in height, where there was scarcely room to hold the nest. Mr Wolley also knew of two or three similarly placed—all of which only show that birds, like men, are not uniform in their tastes. 64 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. But I know of no instance of a golden eagle building its nest on a tree or on a sea cliff; although the sea eagle often selects a tree by the side of a loch, and breeds on inland rocks. PROGRESS TOWARDS MATURITY. At one time the golden eagle had a twofold individuality, arising from the difference of the plumage in its progress to maturity, chiefly owing to the white ring on the tail of the imma- ture bird, in which state it was called Falco Fulvus or ring-tailed eagle, in distinction to Malco Chrysaétos, considered two distinct species. And for long it was a matter of dispute—the identity of the two—until Mr Selby and Sir William Jardine cleared up the question by each having kept the eagles for the four years which constitutes the time it takes for the bird assuming its perfect adult plumage. During the first year the white ring is well defined, occupying the larger and upper half of the tail, but every subsequent moult lessens the white ring. The line between the white and the dark brown of the lower half of the tail becomes interrupted by patches of hare-brown until the fourth year, when the whole tail becomes barred with hare and dark brown, as in the adult bird, when no further change takes place ; which is exactly the opposite of the white-tailed or sea eagle, the white of whose tail at each moulting becomes broader from the upper half, until the whole tail is white in the adult, as the whole tail of the golden eagle is brown, except the roots of the feathers (which are white). In the one case the brown invades the white towards the root of the tail till all is brown ; in the other, the white invades the brown towards the end of the tail until all is white—the one pushing away the white upwards, the other pushing away the brown downwards. In other respects the difference between the immature and adult bird is trifling, and in all points—such as the size and form of the bill, talons, number of scales on the feet, &c.—they are the same. Indeed, according to some ornithologists both the im- mature and the adult birds breed, which may be perfectly trne— as a lad may have a wife without having his matured beard as aman. In this alteration of feathers year by year, it is marvel- lous in Nature thus to paint so correctly and so perfectly each particular feather of each particular bird of each particular moult to such exact similarity and likeness. After having had two AQUILA CHRYSAETUS 65 golden eagles for several years, Selby says:—‘“ After close attention they seemed untameable, their fierceness being in no respect diminished since he first received them. They showed no partiality for the person who fed them; were as ready to strike him as a stranger.” This may be true of eagles kept in confinement ; but if taken young and allowed their freedom, they will, like the falcon, show a preference for the hand that feeds them—at least, I had a tame peregrine falcon which knew me from the tower of St Regulus, and alighted on my shoulder ; and before me lies “The Story of an Eagle,” from the Spectator :-— ' “ A full-grown eagle, which had got an injury, was fed by the gardener at an old Castle in the west, once the home of the chiefs of a Highland Clan for perhaps as long as the cliff of which it almost forms a part has been the eyrie of the sea eagles. When cured and released, it returned to be fed, and grew so familiar as to enter the house. The dining-room, as in many Scotch houses, was at the top of the Castle, with several windows looking out over the Atlantic. Breakfast was laid, the guests in the room, when an open window was suddenly darkened, and the eagle flew in from the sea, and alighted on the sill. It then flapped on to the table, and after looking at the guests standing in the room, it made its way down the table and swallowed the butter, which was set at intervals down the board. For two years the eagle lived about the Castle ; but its visits to the farmyards were not less frequent, and though ‘indemnity’ for these outrages was freely paid, it is feared that the eagle’s disappearance was due to the reprisal from an injured flockowner. There is good reason to believe that the golden eagle, which at one time seemed destined to extermination, 1s rapidly increasing in numbers.”—Wov. 29th, 1891. Selby’s cagle ‘showed a preference for living prey, and would not eat offal or carrion except pressed by hunger. Hares, rabbits, and cats were favourite food. Living prey thrown to them were instantly pounced on by a stroke behind the head and another near the heart, the bill never being used but for tearing up their prey when dead. Part of the fur was swallowed, and alfter- wards disgorged from the mouth. They displayed adroitness in skinning animals, and birds were plucked with great dexterity. They rarely drank, but were partial to washing themselves. The female was very noisy in spring, and clamorous before wet or stormy weather. A pair were kept at Mar Lodge, Aberdeen- shire. For three successive years the female laid eggs similar in size and colour to those in a wild state. Before laying she became restless and noisy, and tried to form a nest of loose materials thrown into the cage. An anxious desire to incubate ‘ was also shown, but no experiments were made as to her hatching.” But if you would see this magnificent bird in its native grandeur, you must retire to the rude rocks and rugged mountains. Yet, even there, like the human Gael, this fierce but 66 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. noble native of Scotland has been all but exterminated by the wholesale sheep farms and extensive deer forests of modern cockneydom. It is now very uncommon to hear of a golden eagle south of the Border, or even in the Lowlands of Scotland. As already said, during a period of fifty years I know of only three having been seen in Fifeshire. Some years ago about twenty annually found their way to the bird-stuffers in Scotland for glass-eyed ornaments. There are not so many now. And it is questionable if the destruction of the birds of prey has added to the number and quality of the birds of sport. It seems to be the rule, the fewer the birds of prey the more inferior the birds of sport, as their mission seems to be, by the law of unerring Nature, to act as the wise balance in thinning down the weaker birds, which are less able to escape, thus leaving the propagation of species to the stronger and more robust, for it has been noted of late years that, owing to the excessive destruction of the birds of prey, a marked deteriora- tion of the breed of grouse was so visible as almost to demand the restoration of the natural balancers of life. The western boundary of Foula, one of the Shetland Islands, is a favourite resort of the golden eagle. In Norway they enjoy uninterrupted sway, and can choose their nesting-places undisturbed amongst the magnificent rocks which bound its fjords. They can often be seen perched upon the centre of some lonely island, where they remain motionless for hours. Its motion at first is slow, heavy, like a heron’s, till, rising high in air, it assumes its own majestic flight. Although it has been so seldom seen in Fife, I could not resist the temptation of describing thus fully the recognised king, or rather queen, of the feathered race once so plentiful in ancient Caledonia, reminding me of the words of Major Galbraith, who was sent to hunt down Rob Roy :— ‘* For while Rob Roy was free to rove In summetr’s heat and winter’s snow ; The eagle, he was lord above, And bold Rob Roy was lord below.” Let us, in imagination, start with him, pen in hand, like the wren, upon his back, from his (or her) eyrie, on a marauding excursion.for food for the young, high up on some lofty crag. Before setting out there, see him, with head stretched forward _ leaning to the sky, his fierce and callous eye piercing distance for miles, as it is said to pierce the sun; the tip of his tail pressed hard against the rock on which he stands ; his muscular AQUILA CHRYSAETUS. 67 shoulders raised, he gives one bound, then away he sweeps on his “ holy” mission of murder, like the split eagles of Russia, striking down the weak until the strongest reigns, and what is called the civilisation of humanity is complete. But woe to the weak-winged ptarmigan or grouse, wounded hare or innocent lamb, that comes within the swoop of those merciless talons ! like the defenceless Turk at Ismail or Plevna, or the Pole at Praga; for again is the ear of mercy closed and the eye of pity shut, and, for the time being, is Providence asleep. Let us go with him, passing hill after hill, glen after glen, till, sweeping round a jutting crag, from whose brow a stunted oak tree springs, on which a pair of ravens have taken up their kindred abode. Suddenly, with the harsh croak—between the grunt of a boar and the song of a frog—so peculiar to this dark denizen of solitude, they both rush after his feathered majesty, wheeling and diving—now above, now below—as if to drive him away from their rocky domain, disputing his right even to be there, instinctively, by kindred feeling, well knowing his plundering mission, and thus presume to let him know they know it. He as instinctively shuns them, knowing that they, too, are robbers, like himself, by nature, and tries to get out of their way. He jerks and dives, and, with a proud but clumsy grace, escapes from their petty persecution—like a bull from a gadfly, or a boy from a wasp—not that he is afraid, but he is bent on his one selfish object—plunder of life, and he has no time to waste with them, for theirs is not what he seeks, knowing that “ corbies winna pick oot corbies’ een.” They still persist in their mimic attack, until at last he feels annoyed, soars several yards above them, turns right round as if about to swoop down upon the nearest. This was the climax waited for, so they suddenly wheel, croaking away as if in triumph that they had thus successfully driven the king of murder away, and calmly, with a discordant croak of satisfaction, return to the gnarled strong- hold of their own domain. While he kept on his mission of death, sweeping down the slope of the mountain side, he paused, with the embryo hover of the kestrel—a plover in the heath below had caught his piercing eye. So had the all but fated quarry his, for just as he fell like a thunderbolt to earth, the plover, quick as lightning or a young partridge, sidled off, and took shelter beneath the roots of a thick clump of heather, eluding his intended clutch, but not until his outstretched wings and tail had pressed the heath—his usual mode of saving him- self from a rapid swoop. He rose and again sped on. He 68 THE GOLDEN EAGLE. veered, then down the glen he sped—a sickly lamb had caught his eye ; but the barking of the shepherd’s faithful collie, and the burly, plaided figure of the shepherd himself striding round a corrie, warned him that stronger powers than his stretched out protection there. He owned the might but not the right, and swept up the glen, over the mountain’s brow, and sailing down the other slope again, he stopped, but only for a second, then on again. Suddenly, another momentary pause ; but this time his meditated purpose was turned into action, as the powder’s flash at the touch of fire, putting in practice the rueful soliloquy of Macbeth at the escape of Macduff, that ‘**The flighty purpose never is o’ertook Unless the deed go with it ;” for down like a living thunderbolt again he sped, but this time clutched his prey—a ptarmigan—crushing its breast and squeez- ing it to death. With a short “cluck” of triumph he again mounted his erial car and homeward bent his flight; but as if to prove that there is opposition in everything, even in death, he had not flown far when, sweeping up a deep ravine, a pair of well-armed active peregrine falcons barred his way, disputing his royal authority to plunder on territory they deemed their own. ‘The only sign he gave of disputed right was clutching the dead ptarmigan still harder with his talons, redoubling his speed in grim defiance, as he had still one of his arms free and bare. After screeching and screaming, wheeling, darting, and soaring —above, below, around—on their still more rapid pinions, they annoyed him much more than the loquacious ravens. Once or twice he seemed on the point of relinquishing his prey and defending himself in earnest, but they seemed to be aware of the unequal strife if it came to close quarters, and, satisfied at having shown the reputed king of birds their marked superi- ority in erial evolutions, they triumphantly withdrew, after chasing him away, and settled on their own grim ledge of rock. On their quitting him, he, too, with a shrill scream of kindred satisfaction, sped on, and after cleaving through space for about fifty miles, was back beside his nest in less than twenty minutes. But the flight of birds, like the rapid quivering of humming ' bird or bee, cannot be computed by miles. They speed so fast and far, time alone, not distance, is all that we can say. When near home he met his mate with a sickly lamb in her talons, and as they met, the “deil micht hae kent they had business in hand,” the glen resounded so loud with their fierce triumphant AQUILA CHRYSAETUS. 69 greeting—a sound but too well known to the watchful shepherd below. They alighted simultaneously on the rocky ledge of their abode—the eaglets taking up the well-known chorus, clamouring for food. The female, first tearing off a portion of the wool and skin with her scissor-like beak, fed them piece- meal, while her mate was coolly but as savagely tearing off the head and feathers and digging into the tempting flesh of the ptarmigan. After gorging themselves and their young, the same plundering expedition was again gone through—their one sole end and aim, to hve—fulfilling Nature’s law, until perhaps the hidden stamp, or baited trap, or leaden messenger of death—on the same inexorable principle, the strong against the weak— puts an end to their rapacity. Otherwise the golden eagle is said to live to a great age, even to a hundred years. The ancient Romans used to let an eagle fly from the funeral pyre of a deceased Emperor. Dryden alludes to this custom in his stanzas on Oliver Cromwell after his funeral :—- ‘* Officious haste Did let too soon the sacred eagle fly.” In Heraldry, the eagle signifies fortitude; and for several centuries it has been a favourite device on Royal banners. It was the ensign of the ancient Kings of Babylon and Persia. The Romans adopted it and other devices ; but Marius made it the ensign of the Legion, and used the other devices for the cohorts. France under the Empire had the eagle for its national device. The two-headed eagle, as a device, was first used by Constantine the Great, and signifies a double Empire, hence Constantinople. There is a very ancient superstition that every ten years the eagle soars into a “ fiery region,” and plunges thence into the sea, where, moulting its feathers, it acquires new life, like the phoenix from the fire. Spenser alludes to this in ‘‘ The Ferie Queen” :— ** As eagle fresh out of the ocean wave, Where he hath left his plumes all hoary grey, And decks himself with feathers youthful gay.” We also read in the Psalms, “Thy youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” The eagle is the supporter of the lectern in churches, because it is the natural enemy of the serpent—that fabulous author of sin; and it is also emblematic of St John, because, like the eagle, he looked on ‘‘ The Son of Glory.” But ancient superstition fancied anything, no matter how supernatural. And doubtless “ Holy Russia,” with her two-headed eagle, 70 THE WHITE-TAILED SEA EAGLE. thinks she, too, has a sacred mission to fulfil, like eagle- mounted Jupiter in ‘‘ Cymbeline,” who said—‘“ Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline,” ‘* He came in thunder; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell ;—the holy eagle Stoop’d, as to foot us ; his ascension is More sweet than our bless’d fields; his royal bird Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak As when his god is pleased.” The idea has always been held that the eagle alone of all creatures has eyes which can withstand the full blaze of the sun at noonday. Milton, in his great prose work, ‘‘ Areopagitica,” eloquently alludes to this :—‘‘ Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep and shaking her invincible locks. Methinks I see her as an eagleyg~mewing her mighty youth and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam.” The terms golden eagle and spread eagle are commemorative of the Crusaders ; they were the devices of the Emperors of the East. THE CINEREOUS OR WHITE-TAILED SEA EAGLE. (Halietus Albicilla.) Mihi. (Vultur Albicilla.) Linn. Provincial—Tue ERNE oR WHITE-TAILED EAGLE. ‘‘The world is grown so bad That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch.”—Richard ITI. Until lately the cinereous and white-tailed sea eagles were considered two distinct species, like the ring-tailed and golden eagle, from that old source of error, the difference of plumage of the immature and the adult bird, the tail in both being the confounding cause. We may safely say it takes five or six years before the white-tailed eagle assumes the mature plumage from which it takes its name, as Mr Wolley (a painstaking naturalist) took two young ones from their nest and carefully watched them for five years, noting each year their change of plumage. He says—‘‘ In 1848 I took two full-fledged eaglets from their nest on a ledge of perpendicular sea-cliff, which now, in 1853, nearly five years old, have not yet completed their adult plumage, HALLETUS ALBICILLA. Te though kept in a most congenial situation amongst the Derby- shire rocks.” Mr Selby, as already stated, kept a golden eagle, which completed its adult plumage in four years. The sea eagle is more numerous than the golden or mountain eagle, and is found in all the northern and mountainous maritime districts of Scotland and Ireland, and in the Orkney and Shetland Isles. It is also of a more roving disposition, and has frequently been killed in England. It usually selects for its retreat some lofty precipice overhanging the sea, where it forms its nest, and, unless killed, remains attached for many years, but drives away the young to find a habitation for them- selves. For this reason most of the wandering individuals that have been shot at great distances from the breeding-places have been young or immature birds. The old pair remain together, and generally search for food in company. The only instance I know of the sea eagle being found near St Andrews was a very fine female, in its immature plumage, shot at Kinkell, close to the sea, about half a mile from the city, on the 29th December 1866. It was in splendid condition, weighing 17 lbs., and measured 8 feet 4 inches from tip to tip of wings, and 3 feet 35 inches from beak to end of tail; it was shot by a jomer in my employment. When first seen it was sitting on a rock close to the sea; it rose, winding up in circles for about a hundred yards, then flew landwards over the brae, but soon returned to the sea as if dissatisfied with the un- congenial look of the land without hill or precipice. It was shot when about ninety feet up. The weather had been very stormy for two days before—the wind N.E.—so it might have come or been driven from Norway. When shot it was leisurely skimming over the brae—slowly flapping its wings like a heron ; it again flew down to the rocks, then back to the brae, when he fired ; there was only one pellet of No. 4 through its nostril into the brain, which stupefied it. It was kept alive for two days, and gave proof of great muscular power before it was killed, which was accomplished by being pressed to death by the bird- stuffer to save its plumage, which reminds me of Paine’s telling remark in his “ Rights of Man,” when replying to Burke’s sentimentalism in his “Reflections on the Revolution in France :’—“‘ He pities the plumage, and forgets the dying bird,” like this callous bird-stuffer ; for it took four people to kill it— one held its head muffled with cloth, another the feet, which were tied together and also muffled for fear of its talons, and one at each wing, while one of them had his knees on its heart. V2 THE WHITE-TAILED SEA EAGLE. They had ultimately to bind its body and wings with a leather strap, tightly buckled (as is done on the stage with its human counterpart, Rob Roy), then placed on its back and literally squeezed to death—its convulsions actually lifting up the knees of the heavy man whose whole force was used in crushing it down before its heart was broken. It is a common way of killing small birds for stuffing by squeezing the heart, but I never knew of a powerful eagle being killed in this way. Before being stuffed it was publicly exhibited in the Town Hall asa great rarity—at sixpence each, and being a very fine specimen, many went to see it, so the bird-stuffer made a good profit out of it. It was bought for the College Museum, where it now is. The sea eagle cenerally makes its nest in the high cliffs facing the sea, where it lives upon fish, young sea-birds, “rabbits, hares, sickly lambs, and fawns, and carrion of every kind—his range of food, living and dead, being between that of the golden eagle and the grossest garbage of the vulture. This being the case he lives well, as scavengers are generally not very nice with their food if they get plenty of it. But although a carrion- feeder, it is not less acute in eyesight than the other; for it detects its prey, living or dead, at a great distance. It is often seen soaring at a vast height above a dead cod or conger eel or other fish lying on the beach, but as often sweeps on at a lower elevation. It is almost as omnivorous as the rook, which feeds on grain and grubs, potatoes and crabs, and whatever it can get. As already said of the golden eagle, those who associate the eyrie of the erne or sea eagle with cloud- capped mountain brows, inaccessible precipices, and yawning fissures in the rocks, may be disappointed to know that they often select quite accessible places for their nest, sometimes choosing a rock or islet in the middle of a loch, where it makes its nest on the ground or on a tree, which need not be either large or high. Mr Wolley got two nests, of different years, in trees on separate islands in one loch, each only about four feet from the ground; nor do they always calculate the depth of water, for he knew one where a man could wade. He also knew of two placed on large Scotch firs, one by the side of a loch, the other miles away from any sheet of water. And he knew another on an alder tree, where a hooded crow had eggs on the higher branches of the same tree, and | wild ducks were sitting on eggs in the deep moss and heather below, within twenty “yards of it—strange companionship !—- and yet all in harmony with Nature. But, as a rule, the sea eagle prefers cliffs by the sea-shore, or rocks not very far from HALLETUS ALBICILLA. 73 the sea, to be near their chief means of life, which justifies Burns, in his “ Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson,” saying— *¢ Ye hills! near neibors o’ the starns, That proudly cock your cresting cairns ! Ye cliffs, the hawnts of sailing yearns, Where echo slumbers ! Come, join ye Nature’s sturdiest bairns, My wailing numbers.” The eggs are about the same size as the golden eagle’s, but not so rich in colour, being generally pale bluish white, with small red spots at the larger end—two in number, sometimes only one. They lay about the middle of April, a fortnight later than the golden eagle. The young are hatched about the middle of May, and leave the nest in August. The old birds continue to feed them for some time after quitting the nest, but ultimately drive them away to seek food for themselves, and it is these stragglers that are generally found away from their nesting-place, where ‘* Triumphant on the bosom of the storm Glances the wheeling eagle’s glorious form.” The scream of the sea eagle is loud and shrill, and can be heard a mile distant ; but its usual cry is a sharp yelp, very like the “klee, klee, klee” of the kestrel, or sparrow-hawk, and sounds like ‘“‘klick, klick, klick.” There is not such difference in size betwixt the male and female as between the golden eagles, being more of carrion feeders. As a proof of this, their trachea is nearly double the size of the golden eagle’s, and very wide. When living prey is wanting, dead sheep or dogs, cats or cod, or other offal, are greedily devoured. Taking advantage of his vulturine nature, it is often captured by a simple device— rough walls are built, and an opening left sufficient to let the bird through, where a running noose is placed, a piece of carrion is thrown into the centre, which the eagle pounces down upon, and after being gorged it walks to the opening, instead of flying up, gets noosed and strangled in such a way that a little tom-tit or gold-crested wren would disdain to be hanged in. It never flies straight up if an easier exit is at hand, as it cannot readily rise from the ground on the wing unless in a slanting direction. But in thus meanly creeping from a feast he is not unlike many a human gourmand who flies with all the pomp of spread- eagleism to a prepared guzzle, and leaves it as besotted and ignominious] y—though less fatally. After foretelling the three ills of Scotland, viz.:—the death of Alexander IJ. at Kinghorn, and the Battles of Flodden and F 74 THE WHITE-TAILED SEA EAGLE. Pinkie—Thomas the Rhymer prophetically alludes to the Battle of Bannockburn long before it took place, and couples the erne with the raven to prey on the dead. He says— ‘“* The burn of breid Shall run fou reid.” “* The first of blessings I shall thee show Is by a burn that’s called of bread ; Where Saxon men shall tine the bow, And find their arrows lack the head. Beside that brigg, out-ower that burn, Where the water bickereth bright and sheen, Shall many a falling courser spurn, And knights shall die in battle keen. Beside a headless cross of stone The libbards * there shall lose the gree, The raven shall come, the erne shall go, And drink the Saxon bluid sae free.” But though a carrion feeder, he is not less acute in his power of sight than the golden eagle—the recognised king of birds, for, as York says to Richard IL., ** Yet looks he like a king—behold his eye, As bright as in the eagle’s, lightens forth Controlling majesty.” The only bird in Britain that can singly cope with the prowling erne is the golden eagle, but they seldom come in contact, as their mission is much the saine—self-sustenance and propagation of species—never warfare for power, or storing up wealth, like man, beyond the wants of the present hour. He will sometimes be seen cowardly decamping out of the reach of the raven or peregrine or the gull—and even the little screaming tern when seen near their nests—as you may have seen a flock of sparrows following in the wake of an owl or sparrow-hawk. The sea eagle is heavier than the golden eagle, but its wings are not so long, for while it is about three inches longer from beak to end of tail, it is seven inches less in extent of wings: It is easily distinguished from the other by having its tarsus bare and long feathers on its thighs, for the golden eagle’s are covered with feathers down to the toes. It also differs from the osprey or true fishers, by having its bill longer and its claws grooved underneath, instead of being rounded and rough, with small pointed scales for holding its slippery prey—unlike the * The prowling leopards on the English standard. HALILETUS ALBICILLA. ; 75 osprey, too, the claw of its outer toe is not reversible, so it could not let go a living fish heavier than itself, which shows that Nature never meant the sea eagle to gain its livelihood as a fisher alone, although it has been seen to pounce upon a fish near the surface, and being unable to raise it or let it go, both drove ashore and were secured—both the winged yacht and its floating anchor, against the law of Nature that any creature should be drowned through inability to extricate the weapons she had given it, which, like a white blackbird, must be the exception, not the rule—as a too keen human angler has been found drowned in a deep pool (into which he had fallen when running along the bank), with his fishing-rod in his grasp and the hook fixed to a salmon, like the claw of the erne in the fish. I lately read in the papers that a man in Shetland saw one feeding on a dead sheep; on approaching he saw that the eagle tried but could not fly away, as its talons were firmly locked in the flesh. He tried to capture it, and a regular fight took place; it struck at him with beak and wings, tearing his hands and clothes; and he could only master it by falling on it and crushing it, as the bird-stuffer did with the St Andrews one. It measured seven feet across the wings. It was taken to Lerwick and stuffed and sent to Frank Buckland. This robber erne at least showed courage. Its talons are very strong, which may have suggested the comparison to fat Falstaff— “When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist ; I could have crept into an alderman’s thumb- -ring.’ And its gourmandising. nature may have induced Shakespeare also to write his picture of Cleopatra’s feasts— Mec.—‘‘ Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there: Is this true? Eno.—‘‘ This was but as a fly to an eagle ; we had much more monstrous matters of feasts.” Although it could never-occur to him to draw the comparison between a beetle and an eagle, which he does in ‘‘ Cymbeline”— ** Often, to our comfort, shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-winged eagle ;” because its unretractile talons were fixed in the carcase of a sheep. Although fully as large and powerful as the golden eagle, it wants the bold dash and alert motion of that bird, being more allied to the vultures ; it is clumsier in action, and, 76 THE WHITE-TAILED SEA EAGLE. when reposing, sits with drooping wings and ruffled feathers, more like those with whom it was at first placed by Linnzus. It is not only a useful scavenger on the sea shore, but a prowling plunderer on the sea coast, stealthily seizing everything in the shape of animal or fish—alive or dead—and all kinds of offal near its abode, which its great strength and powerful talons enable it so well to do. But his cowardly, half-vulturine character is well-known to the other sea-birds which frequent the same haunts. He will, with equal greed, snatch a powerless young gulliemot, skua, or black-backed gull, an inoffensive rabbit, dying fawn or lamb, but sheer clumsily away from the parent birds, or even from the screaming little tern—for, as a rule, a thief or a sneak is generally a coward, and always a selfish one; nor will it scruple to steal from the true fishing osprey, and even patiently wait to feed on the remnants of a fish left by the other, as it has been seen to do. It is no favourite with other birds—from the tern up to the powerful skua gull— all have a dash at it when seen near their nests. A pair of these gulls, with their powerful wings and strong hooked beak, are more than a match for one eagle when they meet in deadly warfare. This fact in Nature is taken advantage of. A proprietor on the little island of Foula, in the north of Shetland, encouraged the skuas to breed there, for the express purpose of keeping the robber erne away, as it destroys sickly lambs and sheep, and has been seen to dash at the heads of weak cattle and deer; but he is not a daring robber. During summer and autumn large flocks of tame geese pasture amongst the most retired hills unprotected—quite close to its haunts, yet the hiss of the gander is sufficient to drive him away. But during the breeding season, as the erne pays his marauding visits along the coast, and sweeps past the cottages early in the morning, the poultry are sure to suffer. It has been known to exist five weeks without sustenance, and still possess undiminished vigour. A keeper inadvertently allowed one to live several weeks without food, when, through sheer hunger, it began to tear the flesh from its own wings, which fact, ‘“‘ Know-all” Shakespeare, in Henry VI., seems to allude to when speaking of Queen Margaret— ** Reveng’d may she be on that hateful duke, Whose haughty spirit, wing’d with desire, Will cost my crown, and, like an empty eagle, Tire * on the flesh of me, and of my son!” *From the French tirer, to fasten talons on anything, HALIATUS ALBICILLA. 77 But Shakespeare’s allusions to the eagle are many and various. For instance, he says in ‘“ Henry V.”— ** For once the eagle England being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs ; Playing the mouse, in absence of the cat, To tear and havoc more than she can eat—” an apt illustration of the reprisals of the smaller nation. in “ Love’s Labour Lost”— ‘¢ What peremptory eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, That is not blinded by her majesty?” In “ Richard IL.”— “* Our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of civil wounds ploughed up with neighbours’ swords ; And, for we think the eagle-winged pride Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, With rival-hating envy, set you on To wake our peace, which, in our country’s cradle, Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep.” And as the bastard Falconbridge says in ‘f King John”— **The gallant monarch is in arms, And, like an eagle o'er his eyrie towers, To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. And you, degenerate ! you ingrate revolts ! You bloody Nero’s ripping up the womb Of your dear mother England,—blush for shame! For your own ladies and pale visag’d maids, Like Amazons, come tripping after drums; Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, — Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination.” Again, in “ Henry VI.,”— ‘** Drones suck not eagles’ blood, but rob bee-hives ; It is impossible that I should die By such a lowly vassal as thyself.” And in “ Pericles”— ‘* Thou art like the harpy, Which, to betray, doth wear an eagle’s form, Seize with an eagle’s talons.” Also, as Posthumous says in ‘‘ Cymbeline,” ‘** They fly chickens The way which they stoop’d eagles.” And These quotations merely show the many ailusions Shakespeare makes to birds. But this fact of the eagle living so long without food is a wise law of Nature, regulated by physical construction and mode of life. The camel, for instance, can 78 THE WHITE-TAILED SEA EAGLE. travel long over the burning sand without water, owing to its multifarious stomachs; and the tortoise can live for months without tasting a single dandelion leaf or blade of. grass. So the large crop of the erne may help it in its long fasts. For, while birth, life, and death play their important parts in the world, such scavengers and such butchers as the vultures and eagles are a stern necessity. And as the vultures are the types of the carrion consumers, the falcons (including the golden eagle) are the types of the destroyers of exuberant life—the sea eagle being the hybrid between them—a bold-looking but cowardly feathered Bardolph—the true type of a big, bullying, selfish, cowardly man. So like the sea eagle— ** Which, to betray, doth wear an eagle’s form, Seize with an eagle’s talons.” To fill his maw his mission—no matter whether with carrion or offal, fish or flesh, or gobbled up young—not to fight; for he would sheer off and slink away even from a pugnacious little tom-tit if he disputed his right, as Pistol had to eat the leek from the hand of the plucky little Welshman. So— ‘* From this session, interdict Every fowl of tyrant wing Save the eagle, feather’d king.” —Venus and Adonis. This applies to all petty tyrants, who have not the natural ability to be amongst men what the golden eagle is amongst birds. But as the timid sheep will defend her lamb against the wolf, and the hen her chickens against the erne, so sometimes will the erne defend her young even against man, which the following fact from the Scotsman shows :— ** A pair of sea eagles had an eyrie in the cleft of a great sea-cliff, known as the Bard of Bressay—the island which landlocks Lerwick harbour in Shetland. On the east side its cliffs rise sheer out of the sea about 500 feet ; pierced and broken as these are at the base with fantastic cliffs and ‘ stacks,’ they form a picturesque bit of rock scenery, which tourists try to ‘do’ by boat from Lerwick when the weather is favourable. The depredations of the eagles on the farms upon Bressay and the adjacent mainland were extensive. The hungry eaglets required food, and, almost daily, lambs were missed. To put astop to this, a project was made to rob the nest. A daring young Shetlander—noted for his courage and spirit, an excellent shot, a splendid swimmer, and a fearless climber—volunteered to go over the Bard of Bressay and rob the eyrie of the eagles. The risk was great, for, besides the peril of the descent, there was the chance of a fight with the old birds. The nest could not be seen by looking over the crag; but from a cliff on the north side, which projects farther seaward, the position could be made out with a good glass. The place where the nest was is known as the ‘pond’ of the Bard of Bressay. A good way down the cliff is a large pro- jecting boss, like an oriel window, with a great cleft in the middle of it. In this cleft the nest was built. As a descent could not be made without help, HALLETUS ALBICILLA. 79 preparations were made. First, the exact distance of the nest down the cliff had to be ascertained. This was done by running a reel of thread, with a small weight at the end, down the crag. A companion on the point alluded to gave a signal when the weight was opposite the nest. The measurement was 90 feet. A strong Manilla two-inch rope was got, and, with two assistants, the cragsman very early one morning crossed the Sound of Bressay in a boat, and ascended the grassy slopes which led to the top of the ‘Bard.’ They arrived there about three o’clock ; the weather was quiet and the air clear. A stout oak stake was driven firmly into the ground, and through an ‘eye’ at the top of it one end of the rope was passed. The daring climber tied this end securely round his body, while . his assistants. grasped the rope on the other side of the hole. He took off all superfluous clothing, and put on a pair of thin goloshes. In a belt round his waist he had a six-chambered revolver in case necessity arose for defending himself from the eagles. Over his shoulder was slung his fishing- basket, in which he hoped to bring the spoils of the eyrie. All being ready he went over the brink of the cliff, and partially climbed down to take the strain off the rope. When he got to the ‘ pond,’ fortunately none of the old birds were at home; but he could not reach the nest, for immediately above the ‘ pond’ was a great ledge of rock which overhung the eyrie, so that he was suspended in the air on the same level as the nest, but 10 or 12 feet from it. He signalled to be hauled up to this ledge, which was done ; he then cautiously climbed down its face, which had a sharp inward slope, until he got upon the same strata on which the nest was built. By following an open seam, just wide enough to admit his fingers, he managed to scramble into the ‘pond,’ where probably no human foot had ever been set before. He could not stand upright in the rocky chamber, but crept round on his knees to the back of the nest where two pretty eaglets were. When they saw the strange intruder they buried their heads below the woolly lining of the nest and remained still. On examining the eyrie his attention was drawn to a spar of wood about 6 feet long by 35 inches in diameter placed on the outward edge of the nest to keep it in position. The spar was laid down to fill up a gap in the rock so exactly that a mason could not have done it better. The base of the nest was composed of a huge mass of sticks and tangle, then layers of heather and grass; the inner circle or ‘ cappie,’ as it is called in Shetland, being lined with wool. The ‘cappie’ where the eaglets lay was 2 feet in diameter. By the side of the nest were two gulls, with their breasts torn open, recently killed, while the bones of lambs, rabbits, and birds were strewn around. On lifting the eaglets out of the nest—though only a fortnight old—they were so large that only one could get into the fishing-basket. Having come so far he was reluctant to take only one, and was considering how he could get the other to the top of the cliff when a warning shout from above told him that one of the old birds was coming. It was the female, which had returned to fight in defence of her young. She came straight for the eyrie like a ‘ flash of lightning.’ He had barely time to throw himself on his back into the deepest recess of the ‘pond’ and draw his revolver when the infuriated eagle was upon him. She made one terrible, but unsuccessful, swoop at him with talons and beak, while he simultaneously pulled the trigger of his revolver, which missed fire. The eagle hovered outside for a moment before renewing the attack ; but a shot from the revolver, the loud report of which reverberated among the rocks, scared it to a distance of about 200 yards, where it con- tinued to circle in the air, yelping like a dog. It was joined by the male, but though thus reinforced neither of them again returned to the nest. He placed one eaglet in the basket, took the other under his left arm, gave the signal to his companions, swung himself out of the ‘ pond,’ and was safely hauled up—his perilous venture successfully done. Both of the eaglets throve well. They were fed three times a day on flesh and fish, and on this diet came into beautiful plumage. After being harried, the old birds 80 THE WHITE-TAILED SEA EAGLE. were seen hovering over Lerwick. This was the first time for twenty years that eagles had been captured alive in Shetland.” There are many traditions of cagles carrying off children as prey for their young, and the following paragraph from a daily paper proves the fact :— **A child, three years old, has been carried off near Trenesin, in Hungary, by an eagle, in sight of the child’s father and mother. The father, who is a railway servant, was giving the signal to an approaching train, and the child was left alone fora moment. ‘The eagle seized it and disappeared with its prey.” Sea eagles were once common in Shetland, and reared their young in comparative safety amid the inaccessible rocks and crags by which it is guarded from the sea on all sides; but, through trapping and shooting, they are now as nearly extinct there as they are in the Highlands of Scotland ; and, as far as can be ascertained, only four pairs are known to have built nests in recent years on these northern isles. One pair had an eyrie at Noss—a high rocky island on the east of Bressay ; another at North Maven; a third at Fitful Head; and the fourth at Unst. About ten years ago a great fight was witnessed on the top of the cliffs at Noss between two eagles, supposed to be from Noss and Unst. The conflict lasted several hours, and when the spot was afterwards visited it was found strewn with feathers and bones—one of the eagles had been vanquished and apparently devoured. The victor was thought to be the Unst bird, as the eagles at Noss were not again seen. Thus we see, while they do not care to contend with other species, they can sometimes fight to the death with one another—like two stags at rutting time; or two dogs over one bone ; or two members of the human family, when their blood is up, over a will. Some time ago I read a thrilling story in the papers of a fight with an eagle on the huge rocky mountain called Craigmaskeldie, but whether the bird was a golden or a sea eagle is not stated. The abrupt summit of this well-known mountain, which rises to a height of 2,000 feet above the shores of Lochlee, is well known to tourists, for nowhere else in Scotland is there a finer combination of pastoral scenery with what is stern and wild. Craigmaskeldie is more like a colossal rock than a mountain, and is a striking exception to the other Glenesk hills. It used to be a favourite haunt of eagles until they were trapped and shot. The eagle of which I write was noted for its strength and rapacity, and locally called “ the eagle of Craigmaskeldie.” The eyrie was perched upon a narrow shelf which jutted out from HALLETUS ALBICILLA. 81 the face of the precipice, and is still to be seen. When they had their young the depredations of the old birds in the glen gave rise to all sorts of stories—true and fabulous; and the robbing of this particular eyrie was considered either an impossibility or one of the greatest proofs of courage and daring that could be accomplished, as it was so high up, and the ledge apparently so narrow that, in the event of a struggle with the old birds, the daring adventurer was certain to be hurled off and dashed lifeless on the rocks below (granting it had been possible to reach the nest). But a young man smitten with love fora maiden in the district—that most powerful of incentives—to gain her affections, induced him to risk it. Like the Shetland lad— ‘He got up very early one morning, but alone, and by mid-day was toiling up the rugged side of Craigmaskeldie; the air was sultry, and not a breath of wind tempered the sun that was reflected and intensified by the rocks. He had not what is called ‘a good head’ for climbing, and grew dizzy—like the boy on the main truck when he happened to look below. His want of experience led him to choose a devious and perilous path ; at some places there was no path, and he was astonished at his good luck when he reached the point aimed at, viz., a rocky summit which jutted out from the mountain’s brow, over the narrow ledge on which lay the eagle’s eyrie. From this point the nest was distinctly seen, tenanted by three half-fledged eaglets; both of the old birds were absent, and being unmolested in such close proximity to their nest was the best proof that they were on a far journey : for, when a mere speck in the sky, the keen eye of the eagle can detect the tiniest lamb on the hillside and timid hare crouching in the bracken. His plan was simple, he unwound from his waist a coil of rope, which he tied round a knob of rock. Having tied the other end under his shoulders he grasped the upper part of it and slowly let himself down the face of the cliff. Ata distance of 20 feet down he hung in mid-air exactly opposite the nest, but about 7 feet from the ledge. By jerking his feet repeatedly he set a pendulum motion agoing until his feet touched the rock, against which he kicked with all his force and bounded back, then rebounded with such violence when landing on the shelf that it took all his staying power, along with a desperate clutch at the pro- tuberances on the surface of the precipice, to prevent him from being hurled off once more. The ledge was about 15 feet long and only 3 feet broad. The eaglets stared at him with great composure as he lay exhausted on his narrow resting-place quivering with fatigue and excitement. He could hardly help smiling as they kept staring at him with an air of composed ferocity, blinking at him as the white membrane came over their great, bright yellow eyes—as yet unaccustomed to the full meridian glare. He prepared for the coming conflict. His weapons were few—a pair of pistols, a sharp hunting knife, and a short, stout stick. He laid the stick and knife within easy reach, ani sat with a pistol in each hand. In this constrained posture he remained two hours before any warning of danger came. It was now past three o’clock, when a far-off faint scream reached his ear. The eaglets grew suddenly excited, they began to flutter, their eyes to gleam, and their ravenous beaks to open in the utterance of hoarse, savage, gasping cries. There was soon no mistaking the swift flight of the large bird bearing down on the eyrie. He must have been concealed by the afternoon shadow stealing over the face of the precipice, for it was within 200 yards before the eagle suddenly swerved, and, with a piercing scream, swept up the face of the crag till she was far overhead, at the same time letting her 82 THE WHITE-TAILED SEA EAGLE. prey fall into the vale below. He knew this was the prelude to a life or death struggle with the infuriated bird. All now depended on his coolness and absence of the other eagle. Should either condition fail he read his fate in lurid letters—hurled from the narrow ledge down into the abyss below with broken skull and lacerated form. He drew back under an abutment of rock, and not an instant too soon, for the eagle swooped down like a living thunderbolt upon the very spot where he had crouched the moment before. The rush of her descent sounded in his ears like a whirl- wind. Her nearest pinion grazed his cheek, and, as she drew off like a flash of lightning to make a final swoop at him, he fired with no steady hand. Between him and the coming eagle there was but acloud of smoke. To his unbounded relief, when the smoke cleared away, the bird had disappeared. Peering over the cliff he saw the savage mistress of the mountain falling a huddled mass of blood-stained feathers down into the glen. Before he could rise from his prostrate position a terrific blow struck him on the back of the head. He sprung up on his knees, turned, and found himself facing the dreaded male eagle of Craigmaskeldie. The blood was streaming from his head, and his heart sunk as he gazed on this merciless foe which now rushed upon him. He was hurled on his back, his hands, which he held over his face, were torn. Again he rose to his knees and seized his knife (the unused pistol was out of his reach). The eagle closed with him, and incessantly struck at him with wings, beak, and talons, while he lunged at the bird with his knife ; but such was the fury and rapidity of its motions that no serious wound was inflicted. He felt that he was growing weak from loss of blood, and, making a final effort, seized the eagle’s throat with his right hand and one of its legs with his left ; but was again thrown on his back. They rolled over one another, and yet, strange to say, they kept, the ledge. The bird freed its neck with a convulsive wrench, and plunging its talons in his shoulder prepared to drive its beak into his eyes. Witha last effort, in which despair and fury fought for mastery, he struck the eagle on the breast with his clenched fist, then seized his pistol and fired on the ferocious bird. A loud scream rent the air. The eagle rose high, with, a broken, fluttering flight ; some drops of blood fell on his face. He waited in dreadful suspense for a renewal of the conflict, but the bird had dis- appeared—withdrawn into the evening sky to sink in death, perchance, on a tuft of heather. The man tried to rise upon the ledge and fainted away,” The pistol shots had been heard and the struggle seen from below. Some hardy shepherds ascended the precipice, and, making use of the daring lover’s rope, brought him down in safety, but unconscious. It is needless to say that such a con- vincing proof of love won the heart of his future partner in life, although it destroyed both the eyrie and the eagles of Craigmaskeldie. To prove its authenticity, an interesting account of this eagle’s nest will be found in a letter of the late Dr Guthrie, in the Sunday at Home for January 1874. I think they had been golden eagles, with the order of Nature reversed, for the male in this instance seems to have been very much the largest of the two ; in fact, he was amongst eagles what Juliet’s old nurse says Paris was amongst men— ** QO, he’s a lovely gentleman! Romeo’s a dishclout to him,—an eagle, Madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye, As Paris hath.” ————— HALIZTUS ALBICILLA. 83 Although getting rare in the British islands, sea eagles are still pretty numerous at Horn Head—a wild, precipitous coast overhanging the sea, opposite Torry Island, the farthest north- west point of the County of Donegal, in Ireland. But though only found now in the most rugged and inaccessible situations, they are simply driven there as a last resort by man in his higher mission of progress—on the same principle that the mammoth, the mastodon, and the dodo have been driven from the world ; or as the lion and the tiger and the elephant may yet be from the jungles of Africa and Asia—as the wolf, the bear, and the wild boar have been driven into the hmbo of extinction from our own island, including the very district of which I am writing, by the ever-widening circle and tyranny of what is called civilization. But were it not for the usurpation and blind exterminating influence of man, in his too often wilful destruction of animal life, and inherent desire to destroy every creature wilder than himself, the sea eagle would be found on every rocky headland, and seen sweeping around every rocky coast wherever birds and quadrupeds lived and died, or stranded fish were found on the littoral shores of Britain. Before closing this sketch of our two eagles, I may remark that Shakespeare, too, like Samuel,.coupled the king of birds with the king of beasts; for, in Henry VI., he makes brave old Warwick exclaim—when dying—before he, too, became extinct in death— | ** My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows That I must yield my body to the earth ; And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe’s edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept. Whose top-branch overpower’d Jove’s spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter’s powerful wind. These eyes, that now are dimm’d with death’s black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun To search the secret treasons of the world; The wrinkles in my brows, now fill’d with blood, Were liken’d oft to kingly sepulchres ; For who liv’d king but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow? So now my glory smear’d in dust and blood! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had Even now forsake me; and of all my lands Is nothing left me but my body’s length ! Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And live we how we can, yet die we must.” 84 THE OSPREY, OR FISHING HAWK. THE OSPREY, OR FISHING HAWK. (Pandion Halicetus.) Savig. (Falco Halietus.) Linn. ** Our eyrie buildeth in the cedavr’s top, And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.”—Richard III. The osprey, like the golden and sea eagles, forms a genus by itself in the same family. It does not breed in Fife, although it has been shot here. It is a handsome, yet powerful bird ; its body is long and narrow, like a clean-built yacht ; the wings are also long, and admirably suited to its mode of life. Unlike the sea eagle it is strictly piscivorous, living entirely on fish, which it seizes when swimming near the surface, its keen eye being supremely adapted to detect its prey when hovering above it—as the kestrel hovers above a mouse or beetle on land. There is little fear of the osprey being dragged under water and drowned, as said of the sea eagle, for, by a wise provision of Nature, its muscular toes and reversible claws are so formed as to let the fish go instantly if too heavy, as if Nature had taken particular care to make the fish hawk perfect for its mission. For, though slender, the body is compact and muscular ; and, while the toes and claws are long, the bill is short and strong ; the culmen broad and round ; and the tomia or cutting edge of the upper mandible nearly straight as far as the hooked tip. The tarsi and feet are covered with scales, like armour. The under side of the toes are very, rough, and armed with small sharp-pointed scales; the claws are large and much curved, rounded above and below, and taper to a fine point to give every facility to hold on or let go. The claw of the outer toe is much longer than that of the inner one, which is the reverse of the rest of the Falconide. The toe itself can turn to any angle to take a firm grasp of its slippery prey. The thigh is long and strong ; the tarsus very short and muscular, measuring two inches round below the knee, and very strong for the size of the bird, enabling it to keep firm hold of a grilse or trout. The feet are armed with toes and claws of such length and mobility as to embrace a large surface and give perfection to its grasp. Their plumage also is different from the rest of the Raptores, being denser on the lower parts—more like divers and ducks, while, to have no impediment to clutching, the thighs are destitute of the long plumes which adorn their legs, the PANDION HALLETUS. 85 osprey’s being covered with short, close-set feathers. The rounded surface of the claws alone (to be easily withdrawn), instead of hollow or flat, like the rest of its congeners, is sufficient to separate the osprey from its allied genera; but it possesses other distinctions in the form of the bill and legs which warrant its being placed in a genus by itself. The outer toe being reversible, and its claw longer than the rest, is a striking care of Nature. Like all birds of prey the female is the largest and most powerful, often weighing above 5 lbs., and measures 26 inches from point of bill to end of tail, and 68 inches in extent of wings; the male 24 and 64 inches. From its large size it is sometimes called the fishing eagle. The common osprey is the type of the genus, which contains some other species, but not found in Britain. The wings are two inches longer than the tail. The bill and claws are black; the legs and toes pale blue; the iris yellow. The head, which is small and flat, is white, finely marked with oblong streaks of dark brown. The under parts of the body are white, spotted with brown; the upper parts dark brown. The female differs little in plumage from the male. The close texture of the under parts is in perfect harmony with its habits, for, being often immersed in water, it is in perfect keeping with Nature’s design, nor is the want of the plumes on the thighs (which would only be an encumbrance) less a proof of her wise economy. ‘There are few more striking adaptations of structure for a given purpose than what is seen in the osprey, which may have induced Shakespeare to liken Coriolanus to it, when the Volscian General, Aufidius, was asked by his lieutenant if he thought Coriolanus would retake Rome, replied— **T think he'll be to Rome As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of Nature.” Here is a bird of prey very much the same as the eagle, or hawk, but destined to prey upon fish, and how wisely and well Nature has fitted it to her design. It is not by diving or swimming and seizing the fish with long, sharp-pointed bill, like the gannet or diver; but, true to its family, the eagle, hawk, and falcon, to be clutched by its long and powerful talons as they swim near the surface ; and, as fish only occasionally do so, the osprey is furnished with extremely long and powerful wings— with strong depressor muscles—by which it can not only fly with ease to great distances in search of prey, without fatigue, but also to fix itself in a particular spot—poised on air—with a 86 THE OSPREY, OR FISHING HAWKE. quivering motion, like the kestrel over a mouse, or a bee or humming-bird over a flower, watching the proper moment to descend like a feathered thunderbolt—guided by an eye so transcendently true as to strike with unerring certainty, while its powerful muscles can check its expansive pinions exactly at the proper time—like the newest patent brake on the railway— so unlike the gannet or the tern, which close their wings when plunging, head foremost, deep into the yielding sea ; and to assist ~ the long wings in the sudden dash on the water the under part of its body is clothed with close and dense plumage, like the glossy velvet of the duck, while the upper parts retain the kindred feathers of the eagle or the hawk. And as great rapidity and power to execute sudden turnings are not necessary for its mode of life, its tail (or rudder) is not nearly so long as the other hawks, while its wings are much longer. How different from the rapid evolutions of the long-tailed, short- winged sparrow-hawk, which can glide amongst trees like a flash of lightning, unscathed—the osprey’s mission being to sail through the air in search of food, or be able to hang poised on it, and have the power to rush perpendicularly down upon it. How different from the half-cowardly hesitation of Macbeth, who, after purposing to murder Macduff, allowed him to escape, which made him ruefully exclaim— ‘* The flighty purpose never is o’ertook Unless the deed go with it ;” an apt expression, for how often are opportunities lost and things left undone by simply not doing them at once, which just shows ‘¢ That what we would do, we should when we would.” The slippery nature of its prey, and its facility for sinking out of reach, render a very powerful instrument of prehension necessary. And how perfectly Nature has supplied this is seen in the long and strong tibia, the short but very strong tarsus, and equally muscular toes, shod with conical points for the special purpose of helping it to grasp with the mobility of universal joints, for the lateral toes can turn at right angles to the first and third so as to ensure perfection in its clutch ; and to certify this still more, the outer toes are considerably longer than the others, to have more scope when clutching with both feet, while the 14 inch long sharp-pointed claws complete the perfection of this inimitable instrument of grasp—so nicely formed as not only not to tear the soft flesh of the fish when PANDION HALIETUS. 87 lifting it out of the water, but instantly to be withdrawn if it has caught a tartar in the shape of a fish too heavy to lift, without which facility, instead of the osprey lifting the fish into the air, the fish would drag the bird down into the water and be drowned, as.sometimes happens with the sea eagle. Although Wilson, the American ornithologist, says that sturgeons and other large fish, with the fish hawk fast to them, have been _found dead on the sea-shore—yet “he never saw them,” and though he had, there is no stereotyped rule in Nature, and any deviation from her general law only helps to show its general rectitude, as a man may tumble out of a window although the door be there. It is a great pity that this beautiful and com- paratively harmless bird is not more numerous in Britain, for, except in the thinly-peopled districts of Scotland beyond the Grampians, it is seldom seen, and rarely even there. One, however, was shot last May near Inveresk, and this paragraph shows how itis hunted down :— ‘On Wednesday an osprey eagle was shot by a keeper on the estate of Lord Elphinstone, at Carberry, near Inveresk. It measured 2 feet long and 5 feet 6 inches from tip to tip of wings; it was seen on the estate for some days, and when brought down fought determinedly for life, but was at length overpowered and killed.” A pair used to breed on Loch Maree, where there are plenty of trout and salmon; also on the larger lochs, such as Loch Laggan, Loch Tay, Loch Awe, and Loch Lomond, and in Sutherland and Caithness shires; also in the eastern and some of the midland Counties of England. The nest is generally on the highest part of ruins (such as the chimney)—on islands, in lakes and lochs, or on rocks and trees adjacent. They lay in the beginning of May; but they are too often robbed of their eggs, and the young hardly ever permitted to fly, which accounts for their decreasing numbers in Scotland. The nest reminds one of that of the wood ant, being usually in the form of a cone cut off at the top. The sticks project very slightly from the sides, and are built up with turf and other compact materials; the summit is of moss, flat and even; the cavity forms but a small part of it. There is not another nest like it. The osprey is true to its old haunts, and, if not killed, returns from year to year to the same nest. The eggs are two or three, rarely four, about 24 inches long by 14 inches—yellowish white, finely marked, and almost covered with large patches of deep reddish brown. They are more oval than those of the rest of the Falconide. Although rare with us, the osprey is abundant 88 THE OSPREY, OR FISHING HAWK. in America, where the nests are generally on trees. Wilson climbed up to several of them, on the sea coast, constructed with large sticks from 4 inch to 1} inches thick and 2 or 3 feet long, intermixed with cornstalks, sea-weed, pieces of wet turf in large quantities, and lined with dry sea-grass—the whole forming a mass seen half-a-mile off, and large enough (he says) “to fill a cart and be a good load for a horse, and so well put together as to adhere in large pieces after being blown down by the wind.” Audubon, another American ornithologist, also says the nest is very large, fully 4 feet across, and of such a mass of materials as to be as deep as it is in diameter, generally on a large dead or decaying tree, near water, often upwards of 50 feet high, sometimes only 7 or 8 feet from the ground. Twice he saw it on the ground, and once on the roof of a low house ; so, as already said, there is no hard and fast rule with Nature. Birds, like other creatures, adapt themselves to circumstances. Wilson says “no less than 300 nests have been counted at one time on an island near New York, the birds living as peaceably together as so many rooks.” The male chiefly supplies the female with fish during incubation. The young remain in the nest till able to fish for themselves, helped by the old birds. They are singularly gentle and affectionate, seldom molesting other species—rearing their young and pursuit of their finny prey being their sole care, and are more social than the rest of the family. In America it is greatly molested by the white- headed sea eagle, and often forced to relinquish its prey, as it would be by the white-tailed eagle with us were both as numerous, but both being rare in Britain they seldom come in contact. Wilson says—On leaving the nest the male flies direct to the sea, then sails around in easy curving wheels, sometimes turning as on a pivot—apparently without the least exertion—rarely moving its wings, his legs extended straight behind ; his remarkable length and curvature of wing dis- tinguish him from all other hawks. The height at which he elegantly glides varies from 100 to 200 feet—sometimes much higher—all the while, like the golden eagle above land, calmly scanning the sea below. Suddenly he checks his course, as if struck by some object, which he surveys for a few moments with such steadiness that he seems flxed in air—flapping his wings. This object he abandons, or rather the fish has dis- appeared, and he again sails around as before. His attention is again arrested, and he descends with great rapidity ; but before he reaches the surface he shoots off on another course, as if PANDION HALIATUS. 89 ashamed that another victim has escaped. He then sails low over the surface, and by a zig-zag descent, without seeming to dip his feet in the water, seizes a fish, which, after carrying to a short distance, he probably drops or yields up to the bald eagle, and again ascends by easy spiral circles to the higher regions of air, where he glides about in all the ease and majesty of his species. At once from this erial height he descends like a perpendicular torrent, plunging into the sea with a loud rushing sound, and with the certainty of a rifle bullet. In a few moments he emerges, bearing in his claws his struggling prey, which he always carries head foremost, and having risen a few feet above the surface, shakes himself like a water-dog, and steers his heavy and laborious course directly for the land. If the wind blows hard and his nest to windward, it is amusing to see with what judgment and exertion he beats to windward— not in a direct line—in the wind’s eye, but by several tacks to gain his end, which is the more striking when we consider the size of the fish he sometimes bears along. The remains of a shad taken from a fish-hawk, on which he had begun to feed, and ate a considerable portion of, weighed 6 lbs. Another was passing at the same place with a large flounder in his grasp, which struggled and shook him so that he dropt it on the shore. Yet the weight of the osprey is only 4 or 5 lbs. Montague says the osprey flies heavily—not unlike the common buzzard— but often glides slowly along with motionless wings. When searching for prey its wings are in constant motion, although the bird itself remains stationary for a considerable time. Its greater size perhaps renders it difficult to continue suspended with the imperceptible motion of the wings of the kestrel. When crossing the bridge over the river Avon he saw an osprey hawking for fish ; its attention was arrested, and, like the kestrel in search of mice or a beetle, it became stationary. After a pause it descended to within fifty feet of the water and continued hovering, then precipitated itself into the water with such great celerity as to be nearly immersed. In a few seconds it rose, without any difficulty, with a trout of moderate size ; but instead of alighting to feed on its prey it soared to a great height and did not descend within his view. From this we can fancy we see the osprey hovering above a fish in the water when we see the kestrel hovering above a mouse on land—the counterpart of its larger fellow-hunter—the one scanning the water, the other the fields, impelled by the inexorable first law of Nature. But, like our eagles, the interesting fish hawk is G 90 THE GOSHAWK. getting rare in Britain—giving place to plainer birds, as the patricians were superseded by the plebeians in Rome before she fell; and as the aristocracy may yet be by the democracy—not only in Britain but throughout the world—the classes giving way to the masses, as Mr Gladstone has it. But, as Shakespeare makes Coriolanus say to their tribunes— ‘*' Thus we debase The nature of our seats ; and make the rabble Call our cares, fears; which will in time break ope The locks o’ the senate, and bring in the crows To peck the eagles.” Or as Rosse and the Old Man say, when speaking of the dark and stormy night when Duncan was murdered by Macbeth,— Rosse— ‘* By the clock, ’tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travailing lamp ; Is it night’s predominance, or the day’s shame, That darkness does the face of earth intomb, When living light should kiss it ?” Old Man— *°Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last, A falcon tow’ring in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at, and killed.” THE GOSHAWK. (Falco Palumbarius.) Linn. ( Astur Palumbarius.) Bescht. & ‘* Was Mahomet inspired with a dove? Thou with an eagle art inspired then.”—Henry VI. This powerful bird stands at the head of the sub-family, the Accipitrina: the generic features of which are—bill short and curving from the base, with the sides compressed, and a prominent lobe on the cutting margin of the lower mandible, instead of the tooth and corresponding notch in the lower one of the true falcons; nor is the bill so strong as theirs, and though its wings are shorter, its tail and tarsi are much longer— like the sparrow-hawk’s, which it resembles both in form and habits. Its prey is taken entirely on the wing. Carrion of all kind is spurned, even when pressed by hunger. Birds and quadrupeds, such as wild ducks, hares and rabbits, are its general food, which it pursues with great rapidity—its short wings and long rudder-like tail being specially given by Nature for FALCO PALUMBARIUS. 9] rapid evolutions; unlike the true falcon’s, whose long wings and shorter tail enable them to outsoar and swoop down upon their prey—for the goshawk, like the sparrow-hawk, skims low, and once started never gives up the pursuit of its victim until its quarry is hunted down—the feathered type of ambition. In his ‘‘ Brigs of Ayr,” Burns gives a fine picture of its rapacity— **Lo! on either hand the listening bard The clanging sough of whistling wings is heard, Two dusky forms dart through the midnight air, Swift as the gos drives on the wheeling hare.” The “ dusky forms” are supposed to be the spirits of the brigs. William Laidlaw, in his exquisite ballad of ‘ Lucy’s Flittin’,” also notes the speed of the hawk— ** When, swift as the hawk in the stormy November, The cauld norlan win’ ca’s the drift o’er the lea, Though bidin’ its blast on the side o’ the mountain, I think on the smile o’ her bonnie black e’e.” Shakespeare, too, makes Hamlet say to his father’s ghost about his murder— ‘* Haste me to know it, that I with wings as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge.” The flight of the goshawk is extremely rapid and protracted. It sweeps along the margin of the fields, through the woods and by the edges of ponds and rivers, with such speed as enables it to seize its prey by merely deviating a few yards, assisting itself by its long tail, which it throws to the right or left, up or down, to check its progress or suddenly alter its course. At times it passes like a meteor through the underwood, where it secures squirrels and hares with ease. Should a flock of wild pigeons be seen it immediately gives chase, soon over- takes, and, forcing its way into the centre of the flock, scatters them in confusion, then emerges with one in its talons, and dlives into the depths of the wood to feed on its victim— ‘* Qutstripping crows that strive to overfly them,” The goshawk may have been in Shakespeare’s mind’s eye when he makes the proud Duke of York declare, when hemmed in by his foes before death— ‘** My ashes, as the phcenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all ; And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate’er you can afflict m2 with ;” 92 THE GOSHAWE. To which Clifford answers— ‘** So cowards fight, when they can fly no further, So doves do peck the falcon’s piercing talons, So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives *gainst the officers.” And, after being stabbed both by Clifford and Queen Margaret, to show what apt poetic use Shakespeare makes of flight, York exclaims— ‘** Open the gate of mercy, gracious God ! My soul flics through these wounds to seek out Thee.”—Henry VI. It is needless to say the goshawk has no mercy, for it is said to prey on its own species. How different from the grandeur of mercy in man— ‘¢ For earthly power doth then show likest God’s When mercy seasons justice.” This beautiful though rapacious bird is extremely rare now in Britain, and seldom seen even in the north of Scotland. As vsual with birds of prey the female is the largest, being 26 inches from beak to end of tail, and 45 inches in extent of wings— against 20 and 43. The tail is 12 inches long, and the bill 14 along the ridge, the claws sharp and strong—the one on its first toe being 1} inches long. Its general colour is bluish-grey on the upper parts, and greyish-white on the lower ; the bill is hght blue at the base; the feet yellow, and claws black—the iris orange. It is about the same size and colour as the gyr-falcon, nearly white, for which it is often mistaken, but it is easily distinguished by its shorter wings and longer tail. Though rare with us, it is often found in the extensive forests of Switzerland. Holland, and Germany, and common in France and Russia. It makes its own nest, like the sparrow-hawk, generally on a high tree on the outskirts of the forest—rarely in the interior—no doubt to have the best lookout for prey. They also build on the cleft of a rock by the sea shore. The eggs are three or four, 24 inches by 1#, something like the colour of the bird, bluish-white, sometimes faintly marked with streaks and spots of red. The young are hatched in the middle of May. It was used by falconers as the most powerful of the short-winged, or so-called “ionoble” birds of prey ; and though it does not soar nor “ stoop,” it flies direct at its game, chiefly grouse, pheasants, ducks, geese, rabbits and hares—as its smaller cousin the sparrow-hawk was trained to fly at the blackbirds and larks, etc.—these two FALCO PALUMBARIUS. 93 representing the short-winged hawks, as the gyr-falcon and the peregrine the long-winged falcons or “ noble” birds of prey—the nobility being in the height at which they soared. It is needless to say it does not breed in Fife, indeed it is questionable if it breeds now in Britain—not even in the High- lands of Scotland, where it was once common. Clearances for sheep and deer preserves, with the cultivation of grouse and black-cock, have done what the gardener does to weeds in the kitchen garden, or to the blackbird in the orchard, or as thestarling is said to be doing to the lark on our links and meadows. Neither has the repeated sales of Highland estates from the old families to sporting cockney proprietors tended to prolong its existence ; for, by his extra swarm of gamekeepers the Duke of Leeds tried to extirpate everything in the shape of eagle, falcon, buzzard, harrier, or hawk as worthless ‘‘ vermin,” for the cultivation of grouse, at Applecross in Ross-shire ; whilst those of the Karl of Dudley, who bought the fine Highland estate of Glengarry, in Inverness-shire, from the trustees of the Earl of Aboyne, and re-sold it te another English proprietor, Mr Edward Ellice (who for forty years was M.P. for the St Andrews Burghs)— were not less anxious for the extirpation of ‘‘ vermin.” Nor are the native proprietors of the Highlands less willing to extirpate our interesting birds of prey—and close the roads against those they may deem human vermin—than their English successors, who itch to drive off the natives of Britain—human as well as feathered—for the propagation of grouse and deer, and shut up the interesting uncultivated Highlands of Scotland as a mere preserve for so-called sport ; but the time may come when these large tracts of uncultivated mountain land may be utilised as a great public boon for the welfare of the nation. Even “Rhidoroch,” or the “ Dark Glen,” in Cromartyshire, is now added to the already overgrown proprietorship of mountain, moor, and glen by the Duke of Sutherland, through his marriage with the late Duchess, which large track is turned into and named ‘The Duchess of Sutherland’s deer forest.” His grand- father earned lasting odium by clearing out the true proprietors— his faithful Highlanders—at Straths Brora and Helmsdale, to make room for sheep and deer. Where once proudly stalked the true proprietors—the hardy mountaineer, and where the goshawk, the eagle, and the falcon skimmed or soared above the mountain peaks, giving character and adding beauty to the grandeur of this dark and wild domain, so naturally suited for Nature’s balancers of life, the birds of prey, and which, for grandeur and 94 THE GOSHAWK. blended loveliness of mountain, loch and river, rock and glen (for its size), is not surpassed in the world ; where, if the nominal proprictors have the sheep, the grouse, and the deer, the nation has lost the true proprietors of the bens and glens—the High- landers, the eagles, the falcons, and the hawks, through mistaken if not unwise policy; for it is questionable if the extirpation of so-called ‘‘ vermin ”—human as well as feathered—has increased those they wish to propagate. The goshawk is still found in the Orkneys, where it breeds on the sea cliffs. It used to breed in the forest of Rothiemurchus, and on the wooded banks of the Dee. To show how ruthlessly birds of prey are destroyed—in a paragraph as far back as 1858, headed ‘ The last of the Pennan Falcon Hawks,” the Scotsman says :— ** Four magnificent falcon hawks, which the people in the district affirm have for upwards of sixty years had their eyries and nursed their broods in the cliffs of Pennan, have now been exterminated, with their young, by Mr Mitchell, gamekeeper, Auchmedden. Numerous fruitless attempts have been made to shoot them, but Mr Mitchell, with assistants, has ‘done for them’ at last. When their young were hatched he took two trapsand was lowered down the cliffs by a rope 40 fathoms long, and at night set the traps. at one of the nests. Next morning the female was trapped, and by night the male and the young ones were destroyed. The same plan was taken with the other pair. Each nest had four young ones—in all twelve hawks destroyed. The female in the second eyrie measured 48 inches between the tips of the wings. Her upper mandible was overgrown, and the under one was turned round to one side like a ram’s horn, showing that she must have been very old. The four old birds and two of the young have been neatly stuffed. In and around the eyries were an immense number of legs and wings of grouse and partridge. Mr Mitchell might have left one pair as living specimens.” So say I, for a more systematic piece of heartlessness can scarcely be imagined, as if Nature had made a mistake in making her birds of prey to be thus exterminated. The only instance I know of a goshawk being found near St Andrews was in the spring of 1842, when a “big white hawk” was seen for some weeks flying about Kemback wood, near Dura Den, a wooded district about six miles from St Andrews. Several people tried to shoot it ; it was at last winged, and, after a fierce struggle captured, and kept in an old parrot’s cage for several weeks, fed with young rabbits and birds; but the cage being too small, broke all the feathers of its long tail and dis- figured the handsome bird so much that the man who shot it gave it away. As a drowning man is said to clutch at a straw, I am glad to clutch at this morsel of fact, and set the goshawk down amongst our St Andrews birds, on the principle that I would call a guinea mine if I found it in my pocket. FALCO NISSUS. 95 THE SPARROW HAWKE. (Falco Nissus.) Linn. (Accipiter Fringillarius.) Ray. ** Gnats are unnoted whereso’er they fly, But eagles gaz’d upon with every eye.” —Venus and Adonis. This bold little life-pruner is so well-known, not only about St Andrews, but every wooded district in Scotland, and by every nest-hunting schoolboy, as to need little comment, and yet it is astonishing how varied nature appears to different eyes. A ripple of the sea on the sands has its music, as well as the mellow whistle of the blackbird ; a particle of sand has its history, as well as the pyramids of Egypt ; a little gowan on a Scottish lea is as dear a remembrancer as the most gaudy magnolia of India, or passion flower of Africa; so the little sparrow-hawk has a character as well defined as the condor of the Andes—a reputation for boldness and rapacity more marked than even that of the golden eagle—alas! shall I say, once of Scotland! A wee, hiding forget-me-not has an interest of its own, as well as the lofty pitch pine of the swamps of America, or the wide-spreading mahogany trees of Honduras, or the leafy giant trees of California, if it be carefully studied. One thing that strikes us is the difference in the size of the male and female, the one hardly 12 inches long, the other fully 15 inches ; and while the male is only 23 inches across the wings, the female is 28 or 284. The difference is so much that Lelley says, * In rearing young hawks care should be taken to separate them, else the females, being larger and stronger, are sure to devour the males, as I have repeatedly found when caged together.” Its beak, like the goshawk’s, curves from the base, forming a round culmen or ridge, and for the purpose designed by Nature is, like all her work, perfect—the scissor-like cutting margin of the upper mandible having a well-marked lobe for clipping its prey. Its wings are shorter and the tail longer than the true falcon’s. Its legs and toes are much longer and more slender, which easily distinguish it from the kestrel or merlin falcon. Its short wings and long tail enables it to turn quickly and execute marvellously rapid evolutions, and to glide amongst trees or skim over the surface of the ground when in pursuit of prey ; but when flying far, like the goshawk, it flies high, with a constant flap of the wings—seldom in circles like the falcon ; and when it does it is only in a hurried manner, different from 96 THE SPARROW-HAWKE. the whecling or soaring of the long-winged birds of prey, which outsoar, then swoop down upon their victims ; while it generally flies below them, and being better equipped for speed, it soon overtakes ; its long legs come into full play when snatching in the passing, whether it be a single bird or through the centre of the flock, from which sometimes it emerges with a bird in each grasp. It is full of fire and action, and, like a human fool, utterly void of sense or fear when after prey. It will dash through a pane of glass at a caged canary, or snatch a panting lark from the hand of the most daring soldier, defying him to his teeth, while its bright yellow fiery eyes seem burning like sparks of living gold. A servant told me, that when cleaning a room in the south side of the city—the under sash of the window up—a canary singing in its cage—a crash was heard. On looking at the window there was a sparrow-hawk jammed in between the sashes; it had broken the one pane but failed to get through the other. After recovering from her fright she extracted the daring little thief, and set it free to steal or kill, and so fulfil its mission according to the wise design of Nature—or say Providence; for Shakespeare, borrowing from what is called Holy Writ, makes Hamlet say— ** We defy augury— There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow,” and no doubt a special design in the use of the sparrow-hawk. To show the excellent use Shakespeare made of birds, when Mrs Ford and Mrs Page bribed Falstaff’s young page to their service of preying upon Sir John, he makes Mrs Ford say to the page—“‘ How now, my eyas musket, what news?’ and as an ‘‘eyas musket” means an unfledged sparrow-hawk, it shows his discernment. Equally so is Mr Page’s expression to Mr Ford, when baffled by their wives—‘‘I invite you to my house to breakfast ; after, we'll a-birding together ; I havea fine hawk for the bush ”—the sparrow-hawk being the only one that could hawk amongst bushes. Or, as he makes Hamlet say to the players— ‘“‘ We'll e’en to’t like French falconers, fly at anything we see. We'll have a speech straight,” which stamps the poet of all time and things. A friend of mine when walking by the side of the Kinness- burn saw a hawk chasing a bird ; he stood and watched them. As a last resort the poor lark flew into the opening of his vest ; he had hardly time to put up his hand to save it, when the hawk dashed against his breast and fell stunned—narrowly escaping FALCO NISSUS. 97 being caught itself. Another friend told me he was in his room ; the sash was up, suddenly—lke a rifle bullet—first flew a linnet, then a hawk, into the room, and so eager was the hawk in pursuit it smashed the glass of a large picture hanging opposite the window—the panting linnet crouching in a corner of theroom. The hawk fell, stunned, then glared first at his master man, then around at his narrow firmament, then flew to the window (which he had closed) and tried to escape. My friend captured both, and restored them to liberty—the one, I trust, to sing again sweetly on a whin, the other to carry out its mission assigned by Nature. It is not likely they would ever meet again. Another gentleman told me that, while walking in his garden, a sparrow flew down to his feet, when simultaneously a sparrow- hawk dashed against one of the iron clothes poles and fell dead. In June 1860, when walking on the links, near the Eden, I saw a hawk chasing a lark, which tried every wile to escape from its natural foe ; it darted aside, then above it, wheeled, gyrated, dived, and soared until almost exhausted, and as Nature never gives talents or talons to man or hawk without a special purpose —for use—each moment brought the talons nearer the breast of the lark, and when just about to clutch it a strange deliverer appeared in the shape of a greedy carrion crow, which darted down upon the hawk with a hoarse caw! caw! and gave determined chase to the chaser, while the poor lark crouched close to my feet behind a bunch of bent. I allowed it to lie, as there was plenty of room for both of us. The incident so interested me that I penned a few verses on it :— The hawk, just like a thief about to clutch His prey—detected, slunk away with such A cowed and coward, wavering, sidling mien, That I, who watched them all, have seldom seen. The poor lark dived behind the bent, and lay— She cower’d and panted—but she did not pray. For why? Because, in truth she had no need ; The crow, he was as bad, nay worse, indeed ! For as the carrion swept the links around, He spied her offspring huddling on the ground, And, with a greedy, chuckling, evil eye, He gobbled up her brood and off did fly. He saw her saviour pounce upon her young, And, then, with pain her little heart was wrung, To think the great all prey upon the small ; Alas ! poor poverty is food for all ! I watched the crow chasing the hawk all the way over the Eden, till lost in the distance over Tentsmuir, in the direction 98 THE SPARROW-HAWK. of the “Old Fir Park Wood,” where they beth breed—hence their enmity. It is needless to say it was not pity for the lark, but enmity to the hawk, that actuated the carrion crow. But each one of us, man and bird, have a mission to fulfil. Then, as. Burns says, let us ** Uphold the dignity of man With soul erect ; And trust the universal plan Will all protect.” On another occasion, when I was standing on the long pier, I saw a hawk skimming after a wagtail; like the lark, it tried every plan to elude the fatal clutch, as every creature does when death is after it ; they dashed close past me, the hawk paying no heed, so eager inthe chase. On diving over the side of the pier it made a rapid upward swoop, clutched the poor wagtail, then flew up over the old Kirkhill brae, and over the old Abbey wall to devour its prey in peace and solitude on the top of a tomb- stone—those well-meant but perishable mementoes of the dead, in the old Cathedral burying-ground, where the hawk of time hath preyed with such havoc upon the so-called universal Church of Rome, and its mockery of infallible priesthood. The unerring clutch of the wagtail reminded me of Southey’s true picture of his hero, Glaciadus, singling out a victim for his. fatal arrow, thus— *« A keener glance Darts not the hawk, when from the feather’d tribe He marks his prey.’ And if disturbed at its food, equally true is Tennyson when he says— ** The wild hawk stood with the down on = beak, And stared.” One day, in May, I saw a male clutch a mavis from a hedge with both feet and fly off with it, quite low, for about 400 yards, then alight on the ground, and when I approached it flew off again, still flying low as if encumbered. On January 5th, 1887, a man shot a hawk with a lark in its talons at the Kinness burn; they both fell. He took the lark from the dying hawk ; the lark was alive but nearly all plucked, except the crown of the head and tail; it trembled all over; he put it in his pocket for heat and took it home, but it died in about an hour. This proves that the hawk does not always. wait for death before plucking its victim, and yet it is part of a universal creation, based on mercy, benevolence, and love. Let ~ FALCO NISSUS. 99 moralists take a lesson, and sentiment pause before it condemns. Birds of prey, like natural storms, war, and disease in “ Life’s fitful fever,” are part of Nature’s great design, beyond our reach to grasp. An eye-witness says :— ‘‘T saw a singular occurrence between a sparrow-hawk and a hen—the mother of a brood of chickens. Her happiness was suddenly disturbed by that enemy of the hencoop, the bloodthirsty sparrow-hawk. It is a fact that the ardour of this bird is so great that all its faculties are absorbed, and heedless of everything but the prey it is trying to capture. Be that as it may, the extreme audacity of this hawk may be imagined, when I say it swooped down and selected a victim from the brood before my eyes, and bore it off to a.neighbouring elm tree. But much as we admire the head- long courage of this little handsome thief, our admiration must be increase for the hen, for, without a moment’s hesitation she flew after the hawk, to rescue her chicken from the clutch of its enemy ; the onslaught was so sudden and furious that the hawk dropped the chick, which fell to the ground not much injured. The heroic mother soon smoothed her child, and if gratitude forms part of fowl life, that chicken would be grateful to its mother for rescuing it from the very jaws of death.” The hen was a better protector to her chicken than Shakespeare says the Duke of Gloster was to the young King :— York—‘‘ Wer’t not all one, an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from a hungry kite, As place Duke Humphrey for the King’s protector? So the poor chicken should be sure of death.”—Henry VI. The sparrow-hawk is common here, frequenting the lower grounds skirting plantations. Small birds of all kinds are its prey, from the golden-crested wren to the blackbird ; while the female, from its greater size, attacks lapwings, snipes, pigeons and partridges, which she strikes as she skims over the fields: chickens, ducklings, leverets, and young rabbits are also set down in its bill of fare, in search of which it flies low, and skims with great speed, pouncing on its prey with unerring aim. It makes its shallow nest on low as well as high trees, generally spruce and Scotch firs, of slender twigs, very like the cushat’s, with generally a few chips of Scotch fir bark in the centre. It is said to occupy the deserted nest of a crow or wood pigeon, but I never found this,and [have climbed up to many nests. My experience is, that it makes its own flimsy nest, although some- times framed on the top of an old wood pigeon’s or filled-up carrion crow’s. It begins to lay about the middle of May, usually five eggs. Every schoolboy knows the colour—a bluish white ground, blotched with dark brown at the largest end, sometimes with a brown ring, and sometimes blotched or spotted all over. One I have is pale bluish-white, streaked with very 100 THE SPARROW-HAWK. light brown; but, like all coloured eggs, there are hardly two alike, although each species bears a general similarity—like the human face. Thev are generally pretty round, inclining to the shape of the owl’s. The young are at first covered with white down, and fly about the end of June. They are easily distinguished the first year by being lighter in colour, and the bars on the breast less distinct than in the adult. As most of our ornithologists dispute about it making its own nest—including Lelley and M‘Gillivray I can make this clear from personal observation from my own note-books :—‘“‘ On Saturday, May 29th, 1858, I ascertained the doubted fact of the sparrow-hawk making its ownnest. I went over the Eden in a boat to Tentsmuir. On rambling through the muir in search of eggs I met the shepherd, who told me he knew several nests—one a hawk’s—in the Old Fir Park. I went with him; the nest was in the ‘ breek’ of a stunted white birch tree, in an open part of the thinly-planted wood, near the outskirt ; it was ten feet up, the hawk was sitting on her eggs, her head away from us, and as we approached quietly over the soft grass, I shook the tree before she flew. She slipped off and skimmed away, keeping under the tops of the trees till out of sight. I went up and carefully inspected this nest. It was 144 inches extreme diameter and 8? by 24 deep inside, very like a wood pigeon’s, only a little larger, composed of hazel and birch twigs, and one or two larch and Scotch fir, lined with finer twigs and one or two of her own small feathers and a sprinkling of her down, with a few of the characteristic chips of Scotch fir bark —all recently formed. He told me that he saw her making her nest, and that she laid her first egg on Saturday, 22nd, the second on the 23rd, the third on the 24th, the fourth on the 25th, and the fifth on Wednesday, the 26th of May, and began to sit on Friday, the 28th—the day before I wrote this. On Thursday, the 27th he inspected the nest ; there was then no down in it, so she must have plucked it off when she began to sit.” To corroborate this :--On the 22nd, the day the shepherd noted this hawk laying her first egg, I climbed up to another hawk’s nest, in a strip of wood (now cut down) near Allanhill, about 2} miles from St Andrews. It was on a spruce fir, 35 feet up, and also entirely new, of twigs, some moss, wool, and fur, and a few hairs sparsely blended, and the characteristic - few pieces of Scotch fir bark. There were five eggsinit. They varied much in colour and shape from the Tentsmuir ones. They were 1? inches by 1}, the others were 13 by 13. I got other three nests in May—on the 13th and 14th—the same year : FALCO NISSUS. 101 two with five eggs, the other with one, all on spruce firs, about the middle of the strips of wood. So out of five nests, the same year, I got four of them with five eggs each—the other in course of laying—which proves the usual number laid. These notes being written at the time, and all the nests personally inspected, is sufficient data for the number of eggs and time in laying, although I have got eggsin June. From another note—“ May 14, 1864, I got a nest on a Scotch fir tree in Kinglassie wood, about three miles from St Andrews. The bird flew off when I struck the tree; I climbed up, and found three fresh eggs. There were two old nests—one above the other, like carrion crow’s or wood pigeon’s. The top one, in which I got the eges, was a new formation, built on and above the second one. The twigs were quite fresh, newly arranged, no lining inside but some smaller twigs, and the never-failing few chips of fir tree bark, which, on inspecting the tree, could not have fallen in by chance, and seemed to be a characteristic of the hawk’s nest. It was quite shallow, 12 inches across and only 14 deep in the hollow—not much larger than a wood pigeon’s. I took the three eggs, and went back next Saturday, the 21st ; the hawk, more wary this time, slipped off before I approached. There was one ege in the nest, which I left, and never went back to disturb her incubation.” To prove that the hawk lays again in the same nest after being harried, I give the following fact told by the young man who did it:—‘“In the beginning of May 1860, at Lathockar Wood, about four miles from St Andrews, a young lad who lived in the district, and attending Madras College, harried a hawk’s nest on Saturday, the 10th. He took the three eggs and brought them to St Andrews on the 12th, and gave them to his schoolfellows, who were collecting eggs (a rage at that time). Being at school all week he went next Saturday and found other three eggs in the nest, which he also took. This he repeated for five consecutive Saturdays, and took fifteen eggs from the same nest—no doubt all layed by the same bird.” This shows with what tenacity the sparrow-hawk clings to her nest, which it would not likely do if its egos were layed in the nest of another bird. About fifty years ago, in May 1842, I was standing in the outskirts of a large wood, called ‘“Stravithie Wood,” all since cut down. Suddenly I heard the hoarse caw! of a carrion crow. Then another and another caw! caw! until it seemed that a host of carrion crows were assembling above my head. Their deep 102 THE SPARROW-HAWK. bass notes deepened into one loud chorus of caw! caw! which was joined by the shrill klee! klee! klee! of a sparrow-hawk. Running to the place, I found about a score of crows upon one female sparrow-hawk. They were tearing and flapping at her, she on her back defending herself with her talons and beak ; but the powerful bills of her assailants would soon have ended the strife had I not rushed in the nick of time to save her. The crows were so busy that I was amongst them before they heeded me. I knocked several down, kicked others aside, while the hawk lay on her back panting, with outstretched legs and claws and open beak. I knocked them all away, their little black eyes glistening with rage, both at me and the hawk, as, with another hoarse caw of defiance, they flew reluctantly away. Curiously, she never tried to bite or clutch me, but allowed me to lift her up, as if glad to be saved from her natural foes, quite heedless whether I was an enemy or not—instinctively feeling I had saved her life. Thinking her nest was near, and the likely cause of the fray, I looked up and there it was on an easily-climbed Scotch fir tree. I put the hawk in my vest, buttoned my jacket, and climbed up. I found five very deep-sitten eggs (as afterwards proved). I knew it was no use leaving the hawk or her eggs to the mercies of her deadly enemies, so I brought them home, thinking she might hatch them. I made a nest inside a toolhouse in the garden, placed her on the eggs, and retired. She allowed me, as if she understood what I meant. I gave her food and kept her two days ; but she neither sat on her eggs nor tasted food. So, pitying the poor bird, I took her in my hand (still quite tame) and let her away to live, love, fight, and kill again in her natural element. She flew, like a homer pigeon, high in the air, as if to see where she was, then bore steadily away for Stravithie, where she came from, which does away with the theory of the hawk’s shortness of sight. This incident proves the deadly hostility the carrion crow bears the sparrow-hawk, which I have repeatedly seen borne out since, and is worth recording on that account. The sparrow-hawk knows it is hated by all small birds, therefore, like all thieves, it approaches silently and stealthily over hedges and dykes, and skims low over the ground, or sits on a dyke or fence or solitary tree to reconnoitre . before making its deadly swoop; and although its wings are about four inches shorter than the falcon’s, they are broad and long enough for the most rapid evolutions, while its long tail is in the air what the long tail of the shark is in the sea. There, FALCO NISSUS. 103 see it sweeping and peering over that grass field a few feet from the ground; then over the low hedge; a few minutes on the fence rail ; then, with an upward bend, perches on that old ash tree (the last to put on its tardy livery of green). It sits at first straight up, as a falcon used to sit on the wrist, with hood and jesses on. But see, it bends forward, raises its wings, then swoops down with lightning speed. What commotion amongst the sparrows in that hedge, started by the clear twink! twink! of the bonnie sprightly chaffinch. But what cares the daring little robber for the sharp warning of the tiny, officious, feathered police. It snatches its victim, and is off as silently as it came, with its prey in its grasp, followed by the clamour and false courage of a hundred noisy little throats—the clear twink ! twink ! heard above the yelping of the sparrows. So swift and unerring is the swoop of this bold little hawk that I have seen it rush headlong into a hedge, and emerge on the other side with a thrush in its talons. It has been known to seize a lark from the deck of a passenger steamer, even at the feet of the passengers. When gliding over the fields it clutches birds, mice, weasels, young rabbits, leverets, and every living creature it comes across, even seizing full-grown rabbits. Mr Hepburn saw one fix its talons into an old rabbit, which ran like the deer with the eagle, till both were caught in a brier bush—and the hawk only flew off when the gentleman shouted. It will sometimes fly rapidly round bushes and hedges—like a huntsman beating a cover—where a flock of sparrows have taken shelter, till one shows itself, which it clutches, then off like a shot. Mr Weir, a painstaking naturalist, says—‘‘ From a hut, formed by the branches of trees, I watched a pair of hawks feeding their half-fledged young. The female sat upon them. The male alighted on the top of a tree forty yards off, with a bird in his grasp. She went and took it from him and divided it among her young. He sometimes brought a blackbird or a mavis, but oftener.a lark, a yellow bunting, or a chaffinch.” The sparrow-hawk is, I think, a far more natural way of keeping down blackbirds and other thieves of the orchard than sparrow- hail. The same gentleman watched another pair early one morning for five hours. The male, like the other, always alighted on the top of a tree some distance from the nest, with a bird in his claws, and called on his mate, who came and took it from him in her bill. He shot her as she was carrying it to her young, at nine o'clock. He went back at six in the evening with a boy to 104 THE. SPARROW-HAWK. climb the tree. The young hawks were almost suffocated by the dead birds about them. The boy threw down no less than sixteen larks, yellow hammers, chaffinches, hedge sparrows, and green linnets. He took the young hawks home and fed them, as they were starving in the midst of plenty, the mother not being there to divide it. The male no doubt, like the head of the human family, considered he had done his share of the marriage contract by procuring the food, leaving his better- half to dispose of it at home—her natural and proper sphere ; not like political female males, who spend their time and mar domestic duties, as well as public ones, at public boards and canvassing for votes. The male at first waited and wondered why his wife did not come at his call to fulfil her part of the matrimonial duties; but, impelled by Nature to perform his share when she did not come to him, he went home with the birds himself, never dreaming that his abundant care, instead of feeding his young, was smothering them. Mr Selby says—“ In a nest, with five young hawks, I found a lapwing, two blackbirds, a thrush, and two green linnets, recently killed and partly plucked.” And, quite recently, Adam Cleghorn, writing to the Dundee News, from Marcus, Forfar, on March 14th, 1888, says— ‘On June 23rd, 1887, a female sparrow-hawk was shot near her nest. Two days afterwards, on the 25th, a boy climbed the tree to see what was in the nest. He found two young kawks and a number of dead birds, no doubt intended for food to them. Having a tame owl at home, he took the dead birds, but left the young hawks. Next morning the gentleman who shot the hawk, along with a friend, determined to destroy the nest and its callow brood, so they shot at it until it was brought down, when the astonishing number of forty-seven freshly-killed birds were found to have been brought to the nest. We counted the birds, and, taking an interest in these matters, I append the names and numbers of each species of bird found :—One young pheasant, six blackbirds, four sparrows, five robins, five chaffinches, six thrushes, four linnets, seven tits of various kinds, two wrens, two yellow hammers, two hedge sparrows, and three larks—in all forty-seven birds. They were both young and old birds, and the feathers plucked off, or nearly so, but few of them touched in any other way. From this I infer that the female only tears the prey to pieces, while the male captures and brings it to the nest to supply the wants of the mother and her young.” From the disparity in size of the male and female, and difference in plumage towards maturity, no bird was more lable to be split up into different species than the sparrow-hawk (except the hen harrier)—some authors, in their anxiety to add to science, creating or inventing more species than honest Nature ever made. But time has shown that we have only one bold little sparrow-hawk—not only in Fife, but in the British Isles. Like all birds, it suits itself to cireumstances in making FALCO GYRFALCO. 105 its shallow nest. In the Orkneys, where there are few trees, it breeds on the ledges of rocks. It lives about forty years, if not killed before its time. In the days of Falconry it was a great favourite, from its extreme boldness, and much used in the capture of partridges, quails, pigeons, blackbirds, larks, &c. It was held in great veneration by the Egyptians, as it was the emblem of their god Osiris. The Greeks also consecrated it to Apollo. SUB-FAMILY III. FALCONINA. THE JER oR GyR FALCON. (Faleo Gyrfalco.) Linn. (Falco Islandicus.) Lath. ‘** But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest ! To see how God in all His creatures works ! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.” —Henry VI. This handsome bird stands at the head of the true falcons— the sub-family Falconina. The bill is short and strong, curving from the base. The upper mandible is armed with an acute tooth on each side near the point, which fits into a notch in the lower one. The wings are long and pointed; the thighs are long ; the tarsi short, compared with the hawk’s. The middle toe is united to the outer one by a membrane at their base ; it has a joint more than the others—a wise, if cruel, provision of Nature—for the extra joint enables it to clutch round to meet the hind toe, which, though shorter than the rest, is armed with a sharp-pointed claw longer than the others. The hawks and all birds of prey have the same provision for a better grasp. Being easier trained than the hawks or harriers, and their mode of capturing their prey by outsoaring them more interesting, this sub-family were greater favourites with falconers than the wilder, short-winged hawks—hence called the “noble birds of prey,” in distinction to the so-called “‘ignoble” ones. From its extreme rarity in Britain the gyr falcon was not so much used in falconry as its congener, the peregrine. The gyr is entitled to stand at the head of its family, as it is not only the most powerful, but, I may say, the most beautiful of its genus. The general colour is white, the upper parts marked with dark grey spots or streaks. The bill is pale blue, darker at the point, and yellow at the base. The legs and feet are pale yellow; claws H 106 THE GYR FALCON. black ; the irides reddish-brown. The wings reach to 14 inches from the end of the tail. Like the rest the female is the largest, about 233 inches long by 51 inches across the wings, against 21 and 47 inches in the male. It neither breeds nor is found in Fife—rarely even in Scotland, except far north, and in the Orkney and Shetland Isles, where it forms its nest, on cliffs, made of sticks and roots, lined with wool or small twigs, seaweed or moss. The nest is flat and about two feet in diameter. It lays in the end of May from three to five eggs, larger and lighter coloured than those of the peregrine—22 inches long by 1%. The colour is light brown, freckled all over with darker spots ; sometimes nearly white, like itself, freckled at the largest end. It is a native of northern countries, as if its plumage took the hue of the snow. It is often found in Norway, Sweden, Russia, and Iceland (from which it takes its name Jslandicus), in Greenland, Labrador, and the fur countries about Hudson’s Bay. In the days of falconry the best birds came from Iceland. It was more difficult to reclaim than the peregrine, but once trained was of more value than its darker brother. It was trained to hunt such game as herons, wild geese, and the larger quarries. Its flight resembles that of the peregrine, but more elevated, majestic, and rapid. Its mode of attack is to outsoar its prey, then swoop down like a thunderbolt upon it—the term “noble” birds of prey being taken from the height at which the long-winged falcons fly, in distinction to the lower height of the short-winged hawks, which fly straight at their game. In Labrador their chief prey is the Arctic puffin, which breeds in burrows. They hover high in the air above the puffins, almost motionless—like a kestrel over a mouse—watching the proper moment to close their wings to descend like a stone— almost perpendicular—down on their unsuspecting victim standing at the mouth of its burrow, unaware of danger; like an un- principled trustee who is chief creditor on a sequestrated estate. The gyr falcon may have been in Shakespeare’s mind when he made King Henry praise the Duke of Gloster’s falcon (when Lord Protector of England), which gave rise to such ill-will amongst his designing courtiers, Queen Margaret and Cardinal 3eaufort— Q. Mar. ‘‘ Believe me, lords, for, flying at the brook, I saw not better sport these seven years’ day. K. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest ! To see how God in all His creatures works ! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. FALCO PEREGRINUS. 107 Suf. No marvel, an’ it like your majesty, My Lord Protector’s hawks do tower so well ; They know their master loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch. Gio. My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. Card. I thought as much; he’d be above the clouds. Glo. Aye, my Lord Cardinal: how think you by that? Were it not good, your grace could fly to heaven ? KK. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy ! Card. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Bent on a crown—the treasure of thy heart ; Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, That smooth’st it so with king and commonweal ! Gio. * What, Cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory ? Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice ; With such holiness can you do it ?”—Henry VI. The gyr falcon was augmented into several species by imperfect knowledge, confounding immature plumage with different birds. Although this snowy native of the land of ice is not found in Fife, still, as a “‘ big white falcon” was seen here for several days, about thirty years ago—probably from Norway— like a lost traveller across the North Sea—I welcome it to a place in this little history of our birds. THE PEREGRINE Fatcon (Falco Peregrinus.) Linn. ‘* As confident as is the falcon’s flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.”—King Richard II. This bird takes its name from Peregrinus—a wanderer. Next to the gyr falcon it is the most powerful of our British falcons. It breeds on the Island of May and the Bass Rock, also on the cliffs near Tantallon Castle, St Abb’s Head, and the Red Head. Wherever there are high cliffs the peregrine may be found, but it is only indigenous in. rocky or mountainous districts—the Highlands and Northern Isles of Scotland being its favourite haunts. It does not breed on trees—no matter how high, but selects a high cliff skirting the coast or inland, although its nest has been got on steeples, and on Antwerp Cathedral. It breeds in Fife at Kincraig, near Earlsferry ; also on the High Rock at Newburgh, the Lomonds, and on Benarty Rock, near Kinross. Like the rest of its family it is tenacious of its haunts, and returns year after year though its nest be harried. It lays in April, generally three or four eggs—rarely five. It sits a month. 108 THE PEREGRINE FALCON. The young fly about in the end of June. At first they are covered with white down, grow rapidly, and when three months’ old are as large as the old birds. The eggs are about 2 inches by 12 inches, a little less and much darker than the gyr falcon’s —rusty-red, spotted and blotched with darker brown, like the kestrel’s ; but, as already said, all eges vary in size and colour. Their nests also vary—from a mere hollow in the rock to the repairing of a bulky old raven’s nest—from a few twigs or bones, gathered by itself, to a pile of sticks and plants two feet across. On the Bass Rock, where there are no sticks, it is made of withered grass and moss. Some ornithologists doubt if it forms its own nest, but all birds and other creatures do so, more or less—from the scrape of the plover to the beautiful structures of the chaffinch or golden-crested wren. For instance, I have found a jackdaw’s in a rabbit’s burrow on a moor, as well as in a hole in the steeples of the city. As usual with birds of prey the female is largest, being about 193 inches from tip of beak to end of tail, and 423 inches in extent of wings ; the male 163 and 363 inches. The wings are long and powerful ; when closed their points extend to near the end of the tail; its legs and toes are also very strong, the first and second claw being fully aninch long. But everything about this symmetrical and beautiful bird denotes perfection for the purpose Nature designed it. The speed of this perfect winged messenger of death when in pursuit of prey is almost incredible. It will fly at the rate of 150 miles an hour—a rate which no railway can touch—and keep it up till its object is attained. The great impetus, at such a speed, accounts for the frightful tear when it strikes its quarry—sometimes ripping up a grouse, blackcock, or mallard from vent to breast-bone by its hind claws, as if done by a butcher’s knife. One belonging to King Henry of Navarre, with his name engraved on its varvels, escaped from Fontainbleau, in 1574, and was caught in Malta within twenty-four hours—a distance of 1400 miles, and, as the falcon never flies by night, the bird must have flown at the rate of 100 miles an hour at least. But even a snipe when alarmed can fly at the rate of a mile a minute. But, besides their great speed, it is unaccountable the instinctive power that enables birds to fly thousands of miles straight to their new homes. It cannot be scent with them, any more than scent that makes the little snowdrop or crocus leave the dark confines of mother earth to peep up and catch the first glint of the wintry sun. And I cannot help thinking that the marvellous faculty which FALCO PEREGRINUS. 109 birds of prey have in discovering their food at almost incredible altitudes is due to their piercing eyesight. There may be some other faculty or instinct which enables vultures or buzzards to detect their carrion prey ; but whoever has seen a falcon or a golden eagle from a speck in the clouds, fall like a thunder- bolt to within thirty yards of the ground, then hover for a few seconds above their quarry before the final plunge, cannot doubt it was their eyes that impelled their actions. The peregrine was the typical bird of falconry, from which the sport derived its name. The female, being largest and most powerful, was called the Falcon ; the male, the Zercel. The one was flown at herons, geese, ducks, and the larger game ; the other at grouse, partridges, quails, teals, woodcocks, pigeons, and the smaller birds. They were the most noted of all the “noble” or high-soaring birds of prey, from which their nobility was derived, which Shakespeare shows in the dispute between the Earls of Suffolk and Somerset, upon some nice point of law, in “Henry VI.”— Suf. ‘‘’Faith, I have been a truant in the law; And never yet could frame my will to it, And, therefore, frame the law unto my will. Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then, between us. War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch ; Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth ; Between two horses, which doth bear him best ; Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye. I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment, But in these sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.” In “Taming of the Shrew ” he also says— “Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark.” And in “ Triolus and Cressida,” when old Pandarus brings them together to kiss each other, he shows the distinction in name of the male and female Pan. “Alas the day, how loath you are to offend daylight ! an’ ’twere dark, you’d close sooner. So, so; rub on; and kiss the mistress. How now, a kiss in fee-farm ! build there, carpenter ; the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere I part you. ‘The Falcon as the Tercel, for all the ducks 7’ the river: go to, go to.” Flying at wild ducks was a favourite sport with falconers, and Shakespeare means to show that at kissing the falcon was as good as the tercel. 110 THE PEREGRINE FALCON. When ill-trained it was called a “haggard” or “* wild-hawk ;” when taken young and well-trained, a “ gentle falcon.” Hence, in his fit of jealousy of Desdemona, Othello fiercely exclaims— “Tf I do prove her haggard Though that her jesses * were my dear heart-strings, T’d whistle her off, and let her down the wind To prey at fortune.” And, in “ Twelfth Night,” Viola says of the Clown— ‘¢ This fellow’s wise enough to play the fool ; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, And, like the haggard, check } at every feather That comes before his eye.” And Tennyson, in his poem of “The Falcon,” draws a fine picture of the well-trained bird, the “gentle falcon” (hence, possibly, the gentle woman), when he says— ** My princess of the clouds—my plumed purveyor— My far-eyed queen of the winds, thou canst soar Beyond the morning lark, and, howsoe’er Thy quarry wind and wheel, swoop down upon him Eagle-like—lightning-like—strike, make his feathers Glance in mid-heaven.” The usual way to tame a falcon was to “ watch” it; that is, to keep it from sleep until tame ; and how finely Shakespeare introduces this fact when he makes even the “gentle Desdemona” say to Cassio, when innocently undertaking to see him reinstalled in his lieutenancy— ‘* Before Emilia here, I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it To the last article: my lord shall never rest ; Til watch him tame, and talk him out of patience ; His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift ; T’ll intermingle everything he does With Cassio’s suit: Therefore be merry, Cassio, For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away.” And also, in the ‘‘ Taming of the Shrew,” he makes Petruchio say of Catherine— ** My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty, And, till she stoop, she must not be full-gorged, For then she never looks upon her lure. Another way I have to tame my haggard, To make her come, and know her keeper’s call ; That is,—to watch her as we watch these kites, - That bate,t and beat, and will not be obedient.” Jesses—straps. + Check—fly. t Bate—fiutter. FALCO PEREGRINUS. 111 He also says— ** And I have loved this proud, disdainful haggard.” But the want of sleep, which tames the bird, would make the man insane. For Shakespeare truly calls it the ‘ great restorer,” the “‘ great physician,” sleep— ‘*The innocent sleep ; Sleep, that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care ; The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath ; Balm of hurt minds, great Nature’s second course ; Chief nourisher in life’s feast.” The peregrine is perhaps the most courageous of all our birds. It will attack even the golden eagle if near its nest. A pair will drive the king of birds away. But I have seen a pair of missel thrushes attack a sparrow-hawk ; and, for that part of it, this pugnacious thrush would attack the peregrine if near its nest ; for a female missel thrush once coolly left her nest and eggs and dashed herself against my own face, when climbing up a tall poplar to its nest. And even here is Shakespeare true to Nature, for he makes Clifford say to over-pious King Henry VI.— ** My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who ’scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting ? Not he that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on, And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. Unreasonable creatures feed their young : And though man’s face be fearful to their eyes, Yet, in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Which sometimes they have used with fearful flight) Make war with him that climb’d unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young’s defence ? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent !” He also makes Lady Macduff say to her son and Rosse, after Macduff’s flight— ‘* What had he done to make him fly the land? His flight was madness. When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. He loves us not; He wants the natural touch ; for the poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in the nest, against the owl. All is the fear, and nothing is the love ; As little is the wisdom, where the flight, So runs against all reason.” 12 THE PEREGRINE FALCON. All which just shows the many-sided beauties of Nature’s poet. The peregrine does not chase its prey like the hawks or harriers—on the same level—like a hound after a hare ; but flies above it, outsoars, and falls like a shot down upon its victim. There is no limit to its activity in air. It comes from such a height, and at such a speed, as if a flash of feathered lightning glanced from the clouds—so sudden and unexpected is its blow. Its usual mode is to fly straight at its prey—but above it—with rapid beats of its wings, until the time to strike ; then closing its long pinions, lke a gannet before plunging into the sea, dashes almost perpendicularly down to within a few feet ; then, with the speed of the wind, swoops, and rips up its victim with its outstretched claws, and carries it off ; or, if too heavy, presses it obliquely to the ground and devours it on the spot—unless when crossing water, when it is dropped to save itself. It seldom floats or sails in circles like the eagles or buzzards, but sometimes hovers like the kestrel. Its favourite food is grouse, woodcock, and partridges, rabbits and young hares. It is said a brood of young peregrines will consume 3800 brace of grouse. This, like the “drink bill” of last year, 1891, viz, £141,250,000 for the United Kingdom, may be interesting to those who neither sport nor drink, as representing so much money lost to other pursuits; but, if meant as a reflection upon Nature or her universal plan, it is not only blaming the creature but the Creator of the bird, the malt, and the man. Some may say that so many brace killed by the peregrine was the best proof of a superabundance of grouse; as so many gallons of whisky and barrels of beer consumed was the best proof of plenty of trade and high wages to be able to buy the drink. For Tis true, a hawk will skim the air, And strike the sparrow down ; Yet all have universal care To live and love aroun’. For Nature, like a wise merchant, is regulated by supply and demand. Where the carcase is, there will the vultures be also ; and where the herrings are, there will be the porpoise, the gannet, and the gull; even where the dirt is, there will be the vermin. ‘* And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.”—Henry VI. An apt application to faddists, who, because they are virtuous, think the world shall have no more cakes and ale. FALCO PEREGRINUS. Ita If its nest is on the coast, then all sort of sea birds are its prey, not disdaining to snatch a young gull or gulliemot from its nest to be devoured in its own—fulfilling thus the broad law of universal Nature. An instance of its rapacity is given in the Magazine of Zoology. A gentleman, when exercising his dogs just before grouse shooting, in the end of July, saw them point, and, on coming up, he startled a male peregrine off a grouse newly killed, and near the same place a female also off another. Although he lifted both birds, the falcons hovered about, and, on the rest of the covey being sprung by the dogs, four more birds were struck down by them; thus, three brace were got by means of these wild faleons— more than had ever been got out of a pack of grouse by his trained ones.” It sometimes follows the sportsman and his dogs on the moors, and strikes down a grouse before their eyes. To prove its power to carry a bird as heavy as itself, and fly miles with it, Mr Skene’s gamekeeper (of Pitlour, in Fife) took an old cock red grouse out of a nest on the Island of May, where no grouse are near ; but it can carry black grouse and pheasants a long way to its nest. When wandering by the side of Loch Brora, in Sutherland- shire, the other year, I was struck with the absence of birds of prey ; and when about half-way up the strath or glen, on going through a clump of scraggy white birch trees, at the foot of a huge rock, I met a gamekeeper. ‘“ What is the name of that immense rock?’ I asked. ‘That is Carrol Rock,” he said. “‘ How high is it? it isa great height,” I said. ‘* Why, yes, it is almost 1,500 feet ; but its vast size takes away its height, and one cannot measure it by the eye,” he said. ‘A fine place for a golden eagle or a peregrine falcon’s nest,” I remarked. “A peregrine falcon is sitting on eggs up there just now,” he replied,’ pointing up to the rock. ‘“ Where?’ I eagerly asked. “ Do you see that overhanging piece of rock up there? but it is so very high you'll not make it out ; I wish I had my glass,” he obligingly said. I tried to make out the place—a mere dark rent in the rock, at least 1,000 feet up, which was all I could see. “We tried to get at the nest last year,” he said. ‘“ We drove a thick tree in up at the top, away from the edge, then let a rope down to where we are. I tried to climb up the face of the rock with the help of the rope till I came to that black strip, which is at least 12 feet in from the overhanging brow of the rock above. I tried to swing myself in, but it was no use: I could not reach it, so had to give it up, fairly baffled. I could neither get at them with shot nor hand. But,” said he, “ besides 114 THE PEREGRINE FALCON. the peregrines, eight or nine ravens come to that rock and roost every night.” ‘Are they not carrion crows?” I doubtingly said. ‘Oh, dear, no! neither carrions nor hoodies, but the big, glossy, black ravens. I shot two of them from the top last Friday, as they were flying over, and they fell amongst these huge boulders up there.” We went up and gave a brief search amongst the boulders, birch trees, and heather; but it was afternoon: he had a long way to go over the mountains, and I had a long journey before me, for I wanted to go round the head of the loch by Gordon Bush Lodge and back by the other side to the little town of Brora—about 20 miles. But I regretted not finding the ravens, as I had not one in my collection at home. On going a little further with him, I picked up a hooded crow. ‘I stamped that fellow two days ago with a dead rabbit ; you see its leg is broken,” he said. From this I saw he knew about birds. I told him I noticed some little grebes, or dabchicks, on the loch. He pointed out some mergansers and gooseanders, and some rare ducks, fishing in the loch, and said they bred further up among the hills. He seemed to know the different birds. ‘‘I am going to strike up here through the wood,” he said; ‘‘ but before I go Ill let you see a large red deer stag lying dead. His leg was broken by a shut last year ; but though we often saw him limping with others, he kept out of range ever since.” He showed me the broken bone of the thigh, which Nature had united again, but left it weak, for the stag was very thin—a penalty of so-called sport. This poor animal had limped for a year; often seen, yet kept out of range ; and at last had come to the sheltered side of this secluded loch to die. My agreeable companion was an English gamekeeper. His description of Carrol Rock, its vast height, and his inability to reach the falcon’s nest, reminded me of Wordsworth’s lines. in his “‘ Excursion ” — ‘** A pair of falcons, wheeling on the wing, In clamorous agitation, round the crest Of a tall rock—their airy citadel.” Like all birds of prey (including the human ones), the peregrine isa solitary bird, and carries on its depredations alone, although in the breeding time a pair may be seen hunting together, and their harsh screams heard in chorus. It is very shy and difficult to shoot ; but when once its nest is known they seldom escape, like those on Carrol Rock. The general colour of the old bird is a deep bluish lead colour, barred with black on the back, hence it was called the “ blue hawk,” and, FALCO PEREGRINUS. 115- when immature, the “red hawk ;” the crown of the head and cheeks nearly black ; the wing feathers are mouse-coloured, with large oval white spots underneath ; the tail is ash-coloured, spotted and tipped with brown; the under parts—from the throat to the bottom of the breast—are yellowish white, with a dark streak on each shaft, the rest beautifully barred with brown ; the bill is pale blue, tipped with black, short, strong, and much curved; the iris, dark hazel; the thighs, like all falcons, are long and muscular ; the tarsi, short and strong, are, like the feet, greenish yellow; toes, long; the claws are also very long, much hooked, and sharp. In 1865 I got a young one from a nest of four on the Island of May. I had it a year. At first I kept it in a large box, with iron bars, and fed it with all sorts of flesh, then I let it out with a long string attached to its leg. Ultimately I set it free to fly about the garden. It grew quite tame, and flew to me for food. I missed it for two days, but saw it on the third flying about the ruins of the Cathedral, true to its instinct, seeking the highest places. I cried, ‘Klee! klee! klee!” my usual call. It knew me, although on the highest pinnacle of the east gable turret. It flew down and alighted on my head, and thus gladly returned with me to the garden in North Street, not far away. Afraid of losing it after this, I kept itin a large outhouse; but one day it got out, and although some people saw it on cliffs near the harbour, it disappeared—perhaps. was shot. I am certain I could have made that bird an agreeable companion in the fields, and might have trained it to hawk for birds, it was so docile. As a proof that tame peregrines, on regaining their freedom, can hunt for themselves. and fulfil the duties of wild ones, the Scotsman of April 28th, id While the Peat, on the estate of Dunira, near Comrie (Perthshire), were out the other day they shot a pair of peregrine falcons. One of them had a small leather belt on each leg, and attached to one of the belts was a very small bell, which showed that the bird was a captive at one time. It would be interesting to know who the owner had been, and what part of the country it came from.” So it would, as the peregrine wanders far. On January 1861, when Mr Berwick, farmer, Reres (near Eden), was looking at my collection of stuffed birds, a large sparrow-hawk arrested his. attention. ‘I shot a hawk last week at least three times as big as that fellow,” he said. ‘‘ Where did you shoot it? and what have you done with it ?”—like an inquisitive young Miss, with two questions at one time—I eagerly asked, as I had not then a 116 THE PEREGRINE FALCON. peregrine in my collection, and guessed it was one. “I shot it on the sands on the north side of Eden five or six days ago, and took it home to Reres, where it lies in the yard. It is of no earthly use to me; you can have it if you want it,” he said. I sent a messenger by rail at once to Guardbridge, before Mr Berwick got home. On calling at the farm and telling his errand—‘ What !” said “ Old Schoonie Hill” —as Mr Berwick’s father was called —“ have you come all the way frae St Andrews for that ugly brute o’ ahawk?” After being hospitably treated —like the players in Hamlet—the lad returned with the ‘ ugly brute o’ a hawk ”—a fine female peregrine in its second year’s plumage (in excellent order, for the frost had preserved it.) The only injury was the point of its bill shot away and a pellet through its brain. I stuffed it, and have it still. The lesson from this is that many rare birds are lost through carelessness, not knowing their worth, and cast away merely because not eatable. An occasional rare bird is not heavy to carry, and will amply repay the carrier. Another fine specimen was shot at Eden in 1863, with a snipe . in its talons ; and other three seen also at Eden about the same time, so they are not so very rare about St Andrews—the Eden being within two miles. In 1864 I got a fine old male, shot at Cambo, near the sea, which I also stutfed, and still have. An intelligent naturalist here told me that when living at Montrose—returning one night from otter hunting-—he saw a dark object projecting on a high rock, known as the “ Elephant.” He fired, and brought down a fine peregrine, only winged. He clutched it, but it sent its claws into his hand. His companion threw his napkin over its head to keep it from using its beak, then one by one took its claws out from their painful grasp. He then turned in the toes and claws like a ball, and held it by the feet quite harmless. Sometimes the peregrine strikes with such force that if it misses its clutch it can scarcely relax its own talons. He told me there was a nest every year on the Red Head. He went one day with a companion to get some of the young ones. The nest could not be seen from below, but by standing on a projecting ledge on the top of the cliff they saw the young ones far down on the ledge overhung by the cliff; they seemed like sparrows in the distance. They kept firing at them for a couple of hours—not to kill, but to frighten them—for their shot could not reach half-way down. At last one of them got frightened, and fell over to the foot of the rock, which he got and kept a year. He said the fishermen FALCO PEREGRINUS. TF slung old pitchers and pans down to frighten them, and sometimes, got one or two young ones by this. The one he had would eat three rooks ina day. But an old carrion crow was more than a match for it every way but one, which was to seize the crow’s powerful beak with its talons and dig into the carrion’s entrails with its own till out of breath, then it lay and panted on the ruin it had made—as you may have seen a lion or tiger do with a bone at feeding-time. He sometimes took its talons off the crow’s beak; then what a scream the peregrine made, as if it knew it was no match for the crow otherwise in the cage. He put a jackdaw beside it—the cage was six feet square, with roosting spars—but although together for a day the daw always eluded it. For this feat he set the jackdaw free. It crossed the Esk after him by leaping on the tips of its wings and tail, although it could fly quite well. As the peregrine— like other long-winged birds—has a slight difficulty in rising from a level surface, this may have induced it to use this clumsy hopping method. Possibly several young birds bred on the coast lose their lives by falling into the sea, being unable to rise. The peregrine is widely distributed throughout Britain ; but, unless in suitable localities, is by no means common, although I have got several about St Andrews. From the many quotations from Shakespeare about this falcon, it is evident the ‘‘ all-time poet” knew it thoroughly, and used it beautifully, sometimes savagely—like itself—as in ‘‘ Measure for Measure,” when he makes the pure-souled advocate of virtue, Isabella, exclaim against the impure-minded Deputy-Judge, Angelo :— Isa. *“‘ This outward-sainted deputy, Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth 7 the head, and follies doth enmew, As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil ; His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell. Claud. The princely Angelo? Isa. O, ’tis the cunning livery of hell, The damnedst body to invest and cover In princely guards. Dost thou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my virginity, Thou might’st be freed ?” Even in his early poems—as in the “ Rape of Lucrece,” when she wakes and finds Tarquin’s one hand upon her breast, the other with his falchion gleaming above her—how tellingly he introduces it— ** Then Tarquin shakes aloft his Roman blade, Which, like a falcon towering in the skies, 118 THE HOBBY FALCON. Coucheth the fowl below with his wings’ shade, Whose crooked beak threats if he mounts he dies ; So, under his insulting falchion, lies Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon’s bells.” And when the deed is done, how truly he says— ‘* Pure Chastity is rifled of her store, And Lust, the thief, far poorer than before ; Look, as the full-fed hound or gorged hawk, Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight, Make slow pursuit, or altogether baulk The prey wherein by nature they delight, So surfeit-taking Tarquin fares this night.” And in one of his doubtful plays, “‘ The London Prodigal,” the allusion to this bird in one of Flowerdale’s speeches, I think, fathers itself— **T’ faith, brother, like a mad, unbridl’d colt, Or as a hawk that never stoop’d to lure. The one must be tamed with an iron bit ; The other must be watched, or still she’s wild. Such is my son; a while let him be so, For counsel still is folly’s deadly foe. T’ll serve his youth, for youth must have his course, For, being restrain’d, it makes him ten times worse ; His pride, his riot—all that may be nam’d— Time may recall, and all his madness tamed.” THe Hossy. (Falco Subuteo.) Linn. The hobby falcon is not, to my knowledge, found in Scotland, and rarely in England. In colour it resembles the peregrine ; but much less, being about the size of the kestrel. It has all the characteristics of the falcons. It preys on small birds— chiefly larks—also on beetles, like the kestrel. In the time of falconry it was trained to hunt small birds, but from its rarity was not generally used ; and I merely mention the hobby here as it stands in our list of British birds. FALCO VESPERTINUS. 119 THE ORANGE-LEGGED FALCON, (Falco Vespertinus.) Linn. Like the hobby, this beautiful little falcon is so extremely rare in Britain, that it does not come within the pale of our St Andrews birds; and I only introduce it here to preserve the link of British birds. It is smaller than the hobby—about the size of the merlin. Its general colour is greyish blue, and easily distinguished by its orange-tinted tarsi. THE KESTREL OR WINDHOVER. (Falco Tinnunculus). Linn. ** Below the lark the kestrel hovers, But lower still the beetle crawls ; And down beside the wailing plovers Upon the little mouse he falls. ” This beautiful falcon is well named the windhover. I have often seen it hovering without altering its position, as if hung on air—about thirty feet up—intently watching some object on the ground, and always with its head to the wind. It sometimes sweeps round in small circles, then sails away as if disappointed ; hovers again, then swoops down as if to clutch something on the ground ; suddenly hovers, then down again a short way ; again hovers a few seconds, as if to make certain of its prey, then sweeps down like a stone to the ground and secures it— generally a straying field mouse or a coleopterous insect—then ascends obliquely, and flies off with a rapid, direct flight. ‘It is the most common of our falcons, is found broadcast throughout Britain, and is easily known from other birds of prey by its habit of remaining suspended in the air—fixed, as it were, to the spot by a quivering motion of the wings, so rapid as to be scarcely perceptible. It preys upon field mice, the larger beetles, and sometimes small birds. It has its nest on ledges of rocks, as well as trees, which is sometimes a mere hollow in the rock, with a few twigs placed loosely together—or in an old carrion crow’s or wood pigeon’s—partially lined with 120 THE KESTREL. dry grass, wool, or rabbit's fur. It begins to lay in the end of April; has usually five eggs, dark reddish brown, with spots and blotches of a darker colour. They are lighter in colour, smaller, and generally rounder than those of the sparrow-hawk. On May 7th, 1855, I got two nests on large Scotch fir trees in the “Old Fir Park” on Tentsmuir, one with two, the other with four eggs, all fresh ; and on the 17th of May I got another with five eggs, also fresh, in the same wood ; besides many other nests at different times in April and May, nearly all on trees ; one on the ivy at ‘ Harlsha’,” with three young ones; in a jackdaw’s old nest, amongst other jackdaws’ nests, also with young ones ; and two on ledges of rock at Kinkell. I got one with five eggs on one of the large Scotch firs on Tentsmuir, within ten feet of a carrion crow’s nest, with five young ones, on the same tree—strange fellowship !—and had I not climbed up and seen them I would hardly have believed it. Like the sparrow- hawk and other members of the family, it is tenacious of its breeding haunts. Asa proof of this, on the 12th of April, a kestrel’s nest, with two eggs, was got in an old carrion crow’s on a spruce fir in Lathockar Wood, and harried ; next week the same bird laid other three eggs, also in an old nest, about seventy yards away, these being also taken ; the bird returned to the first nest, and laid again in the middle of May. But, as a rule, all birds—especially falcon hawks and eagles, like owls, carrion crows, or rooks, or even like human beings, who select certain “rookeries”” or dens to live in—cling to their locality and habitation. So, if you harry a kestrel’s nest of its eggs, and return in a week or a fortnight, you are pretty sure to find more egos, either in the same nest or in another in the locality. It will sometimes lay three or four times in one year in the same nest if the eggs are taken. Nor is it too fastidious with whom it associates, as the nest on the same tree with the carrion crow’s, and the other in the ivy amongst a lot of jackdaws in old Earlsha’ Castle show. The three young ones taken from the ivy at Earlsha’ (then in ruins) were brought to St Andrews, in June 1877. Two of them had the usual red and black streaked livery, but although barely full-fledged the other one had a blue head and tail, like the adult male, which is unusual. Two of them lived upwards of a year, and were accidentally killed. The blue-headed one lived several years, quite tame, and assumed his full adult plumage. They were all most expert at killing the cockroaches in the house where they were kept—running about the kitchen FALCO TINNUNCULUS. 1 2 1 and other rooms in the low flat which were infested with these ugly insects—and were valuable in clearing the house—their legitimate use in creation being killers of vermin. They were as assiduous in watching and destroying them in the house as if they had been intently hovering above a mouse or a cockchafer in the field. In 1855 I took a young kestrel from the nest and trained it. It flew about the garden and the whole city, always returning for food. It was singularly sprightly and playful. When ina carpeted room it stretched out its legs, seized the carpet with its claws and beak, and ran about the room as playful as a kitten. I had it upwards of a year, flying about quite at liberty. One day it alighted on a house in North Street, when a man, thinking it was a “wild hawk,” ran for his gun and shot it, much to my regret—the usual fate of wild pets. To prove that it feeds on birds, as well as mice and insects, I have seen it capturing small birds for prey. On May 4th, 1861, when on an excursion taking notes of our feathered friends at Knockhill Wood, I saw a kestrel strike a chaffinch, and bear it off in its talons. It was also seen by a carrion crow, when a most exciting and prolonged chase took place— soaring, wheeling, darting up and down, like a skua gull after a tern—until the kestrel, sick of the hunt, or encumbered by its victim, dropped it. The crow darted down and bore it off in its bill, and flew with it into the wood. But to show that birds have not the same dread of it as they have of the sparrow-hawk —I saw a kestrel attacked by two pigeons when flying over a large dovecot near Kinaldy. They dashed at it, as lapwings do at the carrion crow when near their nest. They mounted up, until the kestrel seemed no bigger than a lark. The pigeons, strong pinioned though they were, being no match for the falcon in its own aerial domain, gave up the chase, and’ descended to their humble cot. Asa rule, birds are not so afraid of the kestrel as they are of the hawk. I have heard the lark sing in the air, while the kestrel was hovering close by looking for mice or beetles, and the linnet sing his sweet little song on the whin below; nor does the chaffinch sound his deep “pink ! pink !” of fear, or the sparrow cease his loud chitter on the hedge, or the brood-hen give her warning ‘‘cluck” of dread, when it appears above the barnyard, as they do when its more rapacious cousin, the sparrow-hawk, glides like an evil spirit amongst them. Macgillivray says :—‘‘The chaffinch and the sparrow continue picking up the seeds at the barn door, and the I a 129 THE KESTREL. swallow sings his song from the top of the chimney of the steam engine,” unheeding, but owns that “when a locality is disturbed by the sparrow-hawk the kestrel is lable to be mobbed.” And Selby says he has “ frequently inspected the nests of young kestrels, and found them to consist entirely of fur and bones of mice ; but when it finds a difficulty in getting its favourite food, it preys upon birds, as bird-catchers have. seen the kestrel in the act of pouncing upon their call-birds ;” and he “caught it in a trap baited with a bird.” It is computed that during the 210 days in which the kestrel feeds chiefly on field mice a single bird will destroy 840 mice, besides an incalculable number of coleopterous insects, which must be a great help to the farmer. Mr Waterton makes out that these 840 mice, if left alive, would by breeding have increased to such an extent that “a single kestrel, during the 210 days, is the means of destroying no fewer than 9,555 mice,” besides a countless host of beetles; and yet the gamekeepers try to exterminate it as “‘ vermin,” when, by Nature employed, it is doing its best to keep down far more destructive vermin in the shape of mice and beetles. But although Montagu, too, says he “never found feathers or the remains of birds in the kestrel’s stomach,” he also says that, ‘‘when it cannot get its favourite food, it preys upon birds.” The remains of young larks, thrushes, lapwings, and other birds, along with the common dung beetle and other coleoptera, and even earth-worms, have been found in its stomach. It also preys on lizards, and has been seen to carry off young chickens ; but, as already said in these pages, there is no hard-and-fast line in Nature, either as regards birds, nests, eggs, or food—birds, like all other creatures, being guided by locality and circumstances ; and all that the closest observer of Nature can give is the general characteristics. It sometimes: swallows mice whole, but generally tears them to pieces ; if the birds are fledged, it plucks them just like the sparrow-hawk. It is surprising to see the large mass the stomach holds, rolled up into a ball, composed of hair and feathers, with the bones and teeth within, to be the easier ejected by the mouth in pellets—the usual habit with all the birds in this family. It is interesting to see it sometimes, late in a summer evening, hawking for cockroaches. Selby watched one for a long time through a glass. He says—‘‘It darted through a swarm of these insects, seized one in each claw, and ate them whilst flying —returning again and again. I ascer- tained it beyond a doubt, as I shot him.” This catching of FALCO TINNUNCULUS. 123 beetles and eating from the claw on the wing is just an instance of the latitude referred to. JI have often watched a little “lesser tern” repeatedly hover above the water like the kestrel, plunge down, and rise up with a tiny sand eel or sprat, and arrange it till the head of the fish was in proper position to be swallowed first—all on the wing; and as the tern migrates from us on the approach of winter, when sand eels and sprats are scarce, why should not the kestrel also migrate, when mice and beetles have disappeared from the fields? There are doubts as to the migration of the kestrel from Britain; but that it leaves some localities for others on the approach of winter, like the robin, is certain. Mr Waterton, who made his park a preserve for birds, is of opinion that ‘‘a very large proportion of those bred in England leave it in the autumn to join the vast flight of hawks which pass periodically over the Mediterranean on their way to Africa.” ‘‘ One summer,” he says, ‘‘I saw twenty- four nests in my park, all with windhovers’ eggsinthem. The old and young birds tarried till the departure of the swallow, and then disappeared. During winter there is scarcely one to be seen. When February sets in several are seen, and by the middle of the month their numbers increase. They may be seen soaring above, or hovering near the earth, to pounce upon the mouse, or inspecting the old nests of crows or magpies for incubation. Allowing four young ones to each nest, there were 96 bred that year ; add the old birds, and there would be 144. Now, scarcely five kestrels were seen here from Michaelmas to the end of January.” ‘This is confirmed by Mr Hepburn, who, writing of East Lothian, says:—‘“'Though not uncommon in this County, yet, from October to March I did not see a single kestrel ; but their numbers increased in spring.” From this he thinks they migrate from the district; but as we have no preserves for birds of prey about St Andrews—and by no means very common at any time—lI cannot speak of this from personal observation, only I do not remember seeing any here in winter. The haunts of this beautiful falcon have been cut down, for the old woods of Stravithie, Kinglassie, Polduff, Priorsmuir, Allanhill, St Michael’s, and many more, are gone to make room for the plough. It prefers to have its nest on a solitary tree on the outskirts of a wood, or on an old Scotch fir standing by itself in a field. J have got its nest and eggs in an old rook’s nest on one of the few old trees which stood by the side of the ‘Eden, near Seafield Brickwork. But time changes all things, like bonnie Bessie Lee—even the 124 THE KESTREL. breeding-places of faleons and hawks: for Mr Hunter, the engineer, says—‘ An interesting fact in connection with the Forth Bridge is, that although a great many birds are regularly killed by passing trains, the only birds which build their nests on the top spans are hawks (including the kestrel). They reign alone, and when their nests are visited it is common to find dead blackbirds and other birds, which have been swooped up from below.” These “ hawks,” at least, must have made their own nests, as there were no old carrion crows’, magpies’, or wood pigeons’ nests to lay into amongst those iron branches, To show that it preys on larger animals than mice—One summer day, on my way to Priorsmuir, I saw one swoop down and snatch something from a dry-stone dyke and fly high up with it, when it suddenly fell down like a stone on the hard turnpike road near where I stood watching it. I picked the kestrel up dead, and a young weasel also dead. ‘The weasel had fastened on the falcon’s throat, and the fall on the road from such a height killed both. Possibly it had mistaken the young weasel for a mouse, and the little quadruped had bit the biter. So there is no use of some authors sneering at the assertions of others, that a polecat sometimes thus kills a golden eazle. On July 26th, 1879; when sailing in a boat near the Eden, a young kestrel tried to alight in the boat, but fell into the sea. It allowed itself to be lifted up—quite tame—as if glad to be saved. It had been blown from Tentsmuir, as there was a strong westerly breeze, and it was not able to return ; from this I conclude that many young falcons bred on the sea-coast are drowned. Being easily tamed it was a favourite with lady falconers, and trained to fly at quails, snipes, young partridges, thrushes, &c. There is less difference in size and colour between the male and female than the rest of the falcons. The adult male, however, has the head, hind neck, rump, and tail light grey-blue. The tail has a broad black bar near the end, with white tips. The general colour of both on the back and wings is pale red, with dark triangular spots; the hinder parts light yellowish-red, with linear spots. The young are similar to the female, with the spots larger. The tail is long and rounded; the wings, when closed, are two inches shorter than the tail; the bill is pale-blue, blackish at the tip; the cere pale orange; irides hazel; tarsi and toes also orange. Like all true falcons the tarsi are short and feathered in front fully a third down. The length of the male to end of tail is 134 inches; extent of wings 28 inches 3. FALCO TINNUNCULUS. 152 the female 144 and 30 inches. The tail is 7$ inches long; toes and claws are long, but the middle toe is comparatively shorter than the other falcons’, which, like the rounded tail, have induced some ornithologists to separate it from the genus Falco. But, as already said, there is no end to classification. Its legs and talons are not so thick and strong as its little brother the merlin’s, and its wings are comparatively shorter. I leave the illused kestrel alone with Nature—a hunted but mistaken prey for the gamekeeper to try and extirpate one of the most elegant, useful, and interesting feathered friends of the farmer. _ In a discussion lately in the press as to whether or not hawks and owls assist the farmer in the destruction of rats and vermin, one writer sensibly doubts if any of them do so to any great extent as to rats; but, as to the assistance of the kestrel, he truly says—‘ Of the hawk tribe the only one worth noticing in the present discussion is the kestrel. It is most interesting to watch this beautiful bird hovering in search of food, and remaining stationary for a considerable time, then dashing down on its prey. I watched one stoop eleven times in a field, and was anxious to know what it was feeding on. Behind a hedge, it came over my head, when I shot it, and found on dissection its crop full of beetles and caterpillars, while a mouse, partly assimilated, was in the gizzard.” UHere was proof positive of the great help the kestrel renders to the agriculturist in the wise economy of Nature. And yet, while doing its best to help the farmer, it is shot down as a pest by the hirelings of sport, while its crop is filled with the proofs of its assistance ;—which reminds one of Shakespeare’s cutting allusion to lordly sports and habits, when Posthumous, in the humblest garb of a peasant, and two boys, stayed the rout of the Britons in a narrow lane, and drove back the Roman army, saying— ‘* Let me make men know More valour in me than my habits show. Gods, put the strength o’ the Leonati in me! To shame the guise o’ the world, I will begin The fashion, less without, and more within!” 126 THE MERLIN. THE MERLIN oR STONE Fatcon (Falco Asalon.) Selby. Fab.‘ What a dish of poison hath she dressed him! Sir T. And with what wing the stannyel* checks + at it !” —Twelfth Night. The merlin is the smallest of our indigenous falcons, and derives its name of stannyel, stone falcon, and rock hawk from its habit of perching upon large stones or rocks on the moors. It is a miniature peregrine “faleon—in courage as well as plumage—which it resembles in all but size. A male six ounces: in weight has been known to kill a partridge twice its size ; but its usual prey is small birds, which it seizes on the wing— although, when pressed for food for its brood, it will attack ‘the partridge (especially the young) ; but as it does not strike on the ground this seldom happens. It does not, therefore, do much: harm to sportsmen, and the lovers of natural history might be: spared the loss of this beautiful bird by the keepers; for even the sportsman’s own illused pet—the fox—occasionally takes a. pheasant as well as a partridge. It is curious that the hobby, which it resembles, is only a rare summer visitant; while the merlin comes to us chiefly in winter. It was considered to be only a winter visitant in Britain—leaving us in spring, which is: incorrect, as I have several specimens ‘shot near St Andrews from the Ist of March to the end of September. Neither do our ornithologists throw much light upon its nidification. Fifty years ago it bred on Tentsmuir and Priorsmuir amongst the heather ; not now, as the heather has been burned and the woods cut down. The nest was loosely constructed of sticks and. bits of heath. I have several times got their nests on ledges of rocks at Kinkell. They usually lay in the end of April, but I have got their eggs in June—usually four. They are less than . the kestrel’s, and darker red—not so much spotted as thickly freckled all over; but, as usual with coloured eggs, not two are alike. Of the ten I have, not two are exactly the same. On the 12th of June 1859, I got three fresh eggs in a bare hollow in the ledge of a rock only six feet from the ground. There were no sticks nor the appearance of a nest, only the natural slight hollow in the rock—being so late, it might have been harried before. It was at the “ “Blaais Rock,” near ‘‘ Kittock’s Den,” * Stannyel—a stone falcon. {| Checks—filies. FALCO ASSALON. 127 about three miles from St Andrews. And on the 18th of May 1862, I got another nest on a ledge of rock, about twenty feet up, near the top of the brae, also at Kinkell, past the ‘‘ Rock and Spindle”—there was no nest, only a few twigs laid together. There were four deeply-sitten eggs in it. When I came to the foot of the rock the female flew off seaward. I watched her; she came repeatedly back close to the ledge and flew away again, as if loth to enter so long as I was there. At last she darted in upon her eggs. The male also came and flew about, as if sympathising with her, until he saw her safely in the ledge upon her eggs, then he flew away—both birds in their anxiety unconsciously telling the secret they were so anxious to hide. But this is a habit with the merlin. Macgillivray says— “Should one approach the nest when there are young the merlin flies around and overhead with great anxiety, uttering shrill cries, but keeping at a safe distance,” which corroborates my own experience—only the pair at Kinkell came very close to me when at their nest. As already said, Wordsworth had also noted this habit of the merlin when he says ** In clamorous agitation, round the crest Of a tall rock.” On the 16th of May next year, 1863, two schoolboys also got four deep-sitten eggs near the ledge of this “ tall rock” where I got mine. The way they managed was—the elder boy held on by the younger one’s heels, while he reached over the elge of the rocky brae and got the eggs. They broke the eggs and left them at the foot of the rock, where I picked up the shells ; they were dark, dirty brown, closely freckled all over. Thesame year, in August, the blacksmith at Brownhills (about two miles from St Andrews) showed me a fine male, newly stuffed. The way he got it was this—flocks of sparrows frequented his pigs’ troughs—one day he saw a lot of sparrows flying over the paling and a hawk after them, which struck its head on the top spar and fell stunned ; he picked it up, but it died in a few minutes—hence, being a fine specimen, he got it stutfed—very possibly the male of the nest at Kinkell. In the end of June 1856 I got a male which was shot at Stravithie. And on the 9th of March 1857 I got a fine female, which was shot at Cambo, which I stuffed and still have ; also a male, with its feathers much worn, shot at Pricrsmuir in August 1859 ; and another male, shot at Kinkell in May 1862— so there can be no doubt about the merlin being indigenous in Fife. The female shot at Cambo was 123 inches to end of tail ; 128 THE MERLIN, 11} inches to point of wings; and 29} inches in extent of wings. The male is only 11 inches to end of tail, and 26 inches in extent of wings. But although the smallest of our falcons, it has all the courage and daring of the peregrine, often killing birds heavier and stronger than itself. It has been known to kill a partridge at one blow. Like the rest of the true falcons it was trained to hunt, and from its courage and activity was a great favourite with the ladies. In ‘Much Ado about Nothing,” Beatrice, in her answer to Margaret, couples her hawk with her horse or a husband— Beat. ‘* By my troth, I am exceeding ill,—hey ho! Marg. Fora hawk, a horse, or a husband ? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.” And in the same comedy Hero says, alluding also to Beatrice— ‘* No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful ; I know her spirits are as coy and wild As haggards of the rok.” It was flown at partridges, quails, woodcocks, snipes, larks, &c. In searching for prey it glides over the hedges and fields, like the sparrow-hawk, for which it is often mistaken. The rapidity of its evolutions and certainty of aim in selecting its victim from the very centre of a flock of small birds is remark- able. It seldom fails in clutching its prey. There is a great difference in size of the male and female—some males.being not much bigger than a blackbird. Like the rest of its tribe the bill curves from the base, and has the characteristic tooth or lobe in the upper mandible ; it is pale blue at the base and black at the tip ; the cere and round the eyes greenish yellow ; the irides dark brown ; the legs and toes orange yellow ; claws black. The general colour of the back and wing coverts of the male is deep greyish blue; the forehead and cheeks greyish white, margined with black lines ; on the back of the neck there is a collar of pale red, with small black spots. The tail is light bluish grey—the outer feathers with eight, the middle with six black bars. The throat is white, the lower parts also white, tinged with yellowish red. The under side of the quills and tail are beautifully barred with dark grey and greyish white. The general colour of the female is deep brown, tinged with blue. The markings on the head and cheeks like the male, but larger. The young, as usual with birds, resemble the female, but have the upper parts spotted with red. It is easily known from the sparrow-hawk by the shortness of its tarsi. | BUZZARDS. 129 With the merlin terminates our typical hawks and falcons and as the family was introduced by the vultures and eagles, it now radiates into the buzzards and harriers, which as birds of prey possess many of the characteristics of the tribe. I will, therefore, begin the sub-family with the buzzards. SUB-FAMILY IV. BUTEONINA. BUZZARDS AND HARRIERS. Genws, BUTEO. Buzzarps, Generic Characters. _ This genus, of which there are only two species in Britain, with occasional visits of a third, are birds of large size, from 15 to 25 inches long, and have an affinity to the hawks on the one hand, and to the smaller eagles on the other. Indeed, between the large buzzards and smaller eagles there is no well-marked distinction. The rough-legged buzzard may be said to be the link between them. They are the least active of the family, yet their flight is strong and buoyant like the eagle’s. They sail in circles, mounting to a great height, and search for prey (which consists of small quadrupeds, weak or wounded birds, reptiles, even insects and worms) by flying low over the fields. They seldom pursue birds on the wing, but pounce upon wounded ones on the ground. And Burns, in his satirical song of “ Wha will buy my Troggin?” not inaptly says— ** Here is Satan’s picture, Like a bizzard gled, Pouncing poor Redcastle, Sprawlin’ like a taed.” Their bill, which curves from the base, is comparatively weak, and without the cutting power of the falcon’s ; their wings and tail are long ; their plumage soft and downy. They are neither noted for elegance of form, nor for courage and activity ; but are very useful to the farmer in keeping down mice and other vermin. 130 THE COMMON BUZZARD. THE COMMON BUZZARD. Buteo Vulgaris (Falco Buteo.) Linn. ‘** The sheepboy whistled loud,—and, lo! That instant, startled by the shock, The buzzard mounted from the rock - Deliberate and slow, Lord of the air, he took his flight.”— Wordsworth. This is a picture in the sky now seldom seen. The common buzzard is generally distributed in Britain. It feeds on all sorts of small quadrupeds, such as mice, moles, leverets, and young rabbits; and on reptiles, insects, worms, young and wounded birds, and carrion. Its food—as disclosed by its stomach (by Macgillivray)—consists of “ the mole, short and long tailed mice, shrews, young birds, red grouse, grey partridge, small birds, lizards, beetles, larvee, and large worms.” In one instance he found the “ stomach filled with worms, and another with leaves of plants and roots, beetles, and an earth-worm. The mole is sometimes found swallowed entire, and mice generally swallowed whole.” Thus, like the kestrel, it is of great service to the farmer. It is carefully computed that each buzzard and owl will destroy no fewer than from 6,000 to 8,000 mice annually. In the spring of 1885, 400 buzzards were shot in the environs of a town in Germany, and, making calculation from ascertained facts, no less than three million of mice had been spared by the senseless slaughter of these valuable birds. Next year the mice appeared in multitudes—like one of the plagues of Egypt—and, by the destruction of the crops, revenged the foolish policy of killing their natural enemies and interfering with Nature’s wise and perfect universal laws. Wordsworth truly says— ** Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.” This year (March 1892), several long articles appeared in the Scotsman on “The mice plague in the Border Counties,” from which I quote— ** The magnitude of this plague is not realised, even by those most con- cerned. Five years ago the mice attack was limited to two or three farms in Selkirkshire ; to-day they are in possession of nearly all the best hill pastures in the Counties of Roxburgh, Selkirk, and Dumfries. They have also done serious damage in the Upper Ward of Lanarkshire, and it is feared they have made good their hold in the adjoining Counties of Peebles, Ayr, FALCO BUTEO. Tok and Kirkcudbright. The rapidity with which the mice are distributing themselves over a wider area of country, and in ever-increasing numbers, is not surprising after the way the plague has been allowed to run its course ; for the short-tailed field-mice (arvicola agrestis), which are the culprits, breed from three to six times a year, and produce from four to eight at a birth. Their favourite food is the young shoots of grass, the delicate white stems rising immediately out of the earth (they eat the roots of grasses and old herbage as well). They use great caution when feeding, always under cover of the rough grass, and, as they burrow deep, they are almost invincible to the weather, and have a safe retreat to bring up their young and deposit their winter stores. Thousands of acres of the best grass lands are laid waste by them, and are at present totally destroyed for sheep pasture. The bog grass, on which the sheep mainly depend in April and May, has been eaten down to the roots; some of the bents are as much injured as the bogs, and even the young heather has not escaped. £100,000 will not cover the damage done by mice in the above-named Counties during the last year. Entire hirsels of sheep have been taken off their usual ground and sent away to winter—or some other substitute found at a great expense. Where this has not been done the sheep are in a deplorable condition, which will be more clearly seen later in the year. Some idea of the loss generally may be gathered from the following state- ment by Mr John Scott, Newton, Hawick. Hesays—‘ Since we got the farm in 1887 the lambs have never beén up to the quantity and quality they should have been. For 1890-91 the shortness of lambs, owing to the mice destroying the ground, would be £250. For the year 1891-92— Lightness of clip, -— - - - - £31 0 O 410 sheep wintered away, - - - . 143 10 0 Grass taken to lamb 600 ewes on, - - - 210 0 O Hay which the sheep are eating, - - - 160 0 0 But it is impossible to estimate the damage, and, unless the mice depart, the most of the sheep will have to be taken away till the plague gets past.’ Here, then, is one farmer who puts the damage done to his farm by the mice last year at over £540. He is only one of hundreds of sufferers, and by no means one of the largest. The means tried to subdue the pest—such as digging pits for the mice to fall into, and employing men and dogs to kill them—have slaughtered thousands without even mitigating the plague, and are a mere waste of time so far as exterminating the pest goes. Poison seems the only effectual way of doing this. Of course with poisoned grain there is danger that sheep and game, and even the natural enemies of the mice, would suffer. The great object is to find some substance fatal to the mice and inocuous to others. Nothing will be better than the phosphorus and lard used by ratcatchers. This can be prepared at a small cost. Melt hog’s lard in a large bottle or tin-flagon ; plunge in water heated to about 150 degrees ; introduce half--n-ounce of phosphorus for each pound of lard ; then add a pint of proof whisky (thus even here is whisky useful) ; cork firmly after being heated and taken out of the water; shake until the phos- phorus is diffused. This liquid when cooled will form a white compound, which, being warmed gently, may be poured into a mixture of barley meal and sugar, flavoured with oil of rhodium, &c., the dough being made into pellets for the mice. The following, as a flavour, is useful :— Oil of rhodium, - - - - - - 1 scruple. Oil of carraway, - - 1 drachm. Oil of lavender,’ - - - - - - 5 drops. Oil of aniseed, - - - - - 10 drops. Tincture of musk, - - - - - 2 drops. *.A microbe capable of destroying the mice has been suggested ; but, three years ago, M. Pasteur went sanguinely to the rescue of the Australian sheep- farmers to effect a clearance of the rabbits by spreading a death-dealing Microbe amongst them. Chicken cholera-broth was to be sprinkled on the a2 THE COMMON BUZZARD. herbage, which the rabbits were to eat, and spread an infection which was, to exterminate them. But M. Pasteur has not yet won the £25,000 offered: by the New South Wales Government to the man who stamps the rabbits out. We know, however, that every living form, whether animal, fish, bird, or insect, has its destroyer—from man, who kills all life, to the tiny parasite which destroys those of similar form and habit as itself. One species 1s always making war upon another. This is a wise provision of Nature to. prevent the increase of what would be scourges upon the rest of the world. Many farmers think the mice plague has been caused by gamekeepers having shot all the birds and animals which naturally prey upon the mice. And there as no doubt that the wholesale destruction of owls, hawks, weasels, &:c., has been @ potent cause of the mischief ; but the balance of Nature has been interfered with by farmers themselves destroying hedgehogs and moles, oblivious of the fact that these prey upon mice as much as some of the others mentioned, while they do additional service by keeping down injurious insects. The most effectual remedy for the mice plague will be to introduce as many owls, hawks, weasels, hedyehogs, moles, &:c.—even if they have to be brought from a distance at considerable expense to begin with. The inter-depend- ence of different departments of Nature is at present curiously illustrated in the Southern States of America. Alligators have been nearly exterminated by sportsmen and hide-hunters. But it appears the ugly creatures had a use in Nature, for, as they decreased in number, the musk-rats increased till they, like the mice, became a plague in some districts; and the local authorities are now prohibiting the killing of an alligator under a fine of £20 or a month’s imprisonment.” All this is very instructive, to see what great mischief is done by simply interfering with the wise balancing laws of Nature. It is amusing to see the advocates of the farmer—in their desperation—speak of restoring the birds of prey, after the so-called sportsman and his minions have done their best to ex- terminate them—falling back upon poison and other doubtful expedients after the evil has been done through selfish, blinded ignorance. Besides devouring mice, the buzzard is of great service to the farmer in driving off the ring-doves from the corn. He is accused of killing what is called game, and suffers accordingly ; but the gleanings of the fields are not left to maintain game alone, being shared by mice and small birds, and yet the poor buzzard is shot down when fulfilling the great end for which he was created—setting bounds to their increase. When will our senators see the errors of game laws, and the evils they inflict on the lower creatures? Not till then will the farmer experience the full benefit of our rapacious birds. Very little seems to be known of the buzzard, or it would not be so indiscriminately shot. Some writers, like St John in “ Wild Sports,” descrilie it as being like the kite—‘‘a carrion-feeder, and seldom kills anything but small birds, mice, or frogs, except during the breeding season, when it is very destructive to game.” Another, who kept one for two years in a large shed along with several guinea-pigs and tame rabbits, believes it to be “‘ wholly a FALCO BUTEO. 133 earrion-feeding bird.” He gives as his reason—that although his tame rabbits had young ones every six weeks, which ran about the shed along with the buzzard, it never touched one of them, although often pressed with hunger, for it was “ difficult always to provide it with such food as dead moles, rats, birds, and the like;” and during the two years it never touched anything alive, although it had ample opportunity. It was a wild bird when he got it, trapped by a keeper; from this, and from its never trying to escape through a large hole in the side of the netting of his shed, this writer justifies the opinion of our forefathers in their application of the word “ buzzard” to a foolish fellow. Shakespeare had no great opinion of its speed when he makes Petruchio say to Katherine— **O slow-wing’d turtle ! shall a buzzard take thee?” Compared with the falcons, poets scorned the _ buzzard- Robinson, in “The Poet’s Birds,” says “the buzzard is hardly worth calling a bird, and is used to express the ne plus ultra of unworthiness among fowls,” which is borne out by Rob Roy exclaiming, when Captain Thornton’s party was sent to surprise him in the Highlands— ** My dirk and claymore there, some 0’ ye ; I must attack those buzzards in the rear!” And yet, when you see it with keen eye and undaunted deport- ment, there is, as in all raptorial birds, much nobility in its bearing—at least the painter would say so, independent of the poet. Shakespeare draws a fine discerning comparison between the eagle and the buzzard (which he calls a puttock) in Imogen’s reply to King Cymbeline, concerning her choice of a husband— Cym. ‘* Thou might’st have had the sole son of my queen ! Imo. O bless’d, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.” And, regarding the doubt of its killing birds, equally discerning is Warwick’s reply to Queen Margaret respecting the Duke of Gloster’s murder— War. ‘* Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect ’twas he that made the slaughter ? Who finds the partridge in the puttock’s nest, But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak ? Even so suspicious is this tragedy.” 134 THE COMMON BUZZARD. It is sometimes called glead, kite, and puttock. It is rather larger than the peregrine falcon, but not so compact. When soaring it is easily known from that bird by the large white patches under the wings. Selby says it is shot in France during winter, and is ‘“‘esteemed delicious eating.” It is more common on inland than on the sea-coast, although it breeds on the Island of May, on the high ledges on the west side. About fifty-five years ago it bred in the large woods of Stravithie, Kinglassie, Priorsmuir, and Allanhill—part of the famous Cursus Apri, or Boar’s Chase—a tract of land from Pitmillie Burn to Dairsie, about eleven miles long by five miles broad—originally a gift to the so-called Church by one of our early Scottish kings; and, even in my time, this Priorsmuir was the centre of a wild tract of dense woods, whins, and heather, in which, besides the buzzard and kite and their nests—then as common as sparrow- hawks—I have seen the deer running wild. And, no doubt, long before, when the imposing Cathedral stood in its entirety, and the proud Priory was in full swing, many a time would the prior and his canons walk or drive out to it as a favourite hunting-ground—at least it was for the buzzards and other birds of prey—for this wide district of wood at one time extended to Denino, Cameron, Kinaldy, Lochty, Lingo, and Watterless— embracing adhunting-ground for the buzzard of about fifty square miles. Latterly, this Priorsmuir was turned into a foxes’ cover— about 1869—through which now runs the St Andrews and Anstruther railway, where, fifty years ago, I have cut trees, unchecked, for the gallery of a boys’ dramatic club. The buzzard makes its large nest of sticks and twigs, rudely lined with wool and grass, on large trees in woods, or on the ledges of rocks. The eggs, three or four—the colour and size vary according to the ave of the bird—are about 24 by 1? inches, from a plain greenish white to deeply spotted and blotched with reddish brown; as a rule the older the bird the darker the egg. The young, like the rest of the tribe, are at first covered with whitish down. ‘The general colour of the male on the upper parts is brown, glossed with purple; the head and hind neck streaked with yellowish white; the bases of the loose downy feathers are white. The tail, which is 9 inches long and square, is marked with ten or twelve brown bars. The bill is bluish | black ; the cere and irides lemon yellow ; legs and toes bright yellow. The female is darker and more uniformly brown than the male, and the lower surface of the wings darker than the male, which makes the large white patch still more conspicuous. The - THE ROUGH-LEGGED BUZZARD. 135 male is 194 inches long to end of tail, and 49 inches in extent of wings; the female 22 and 57 inches, tail 92 inches long. The wings are long, and extend to the end of the tail. On the 23rd of September 1881, after a heavy south-east sea-storm, I picked up a headless, legless male buzzard near the Buddo Rock, about four miles from St Andrews; it was drenched by the sea, and the wet down under the loose feathers showed the skin so much that it seemed worthless as a specimen. It was very fat, and weighed two pounds. A keen gunner and bird fancier, who knows the value of a stuffing-bird, picked it up the day before, but, thinking it was worthless, cut off the head and feet and threw it away. But, knowing the loose forma- tion of the feathers, I brought it home, dried, skinned, and stuffed it, and was lucky in hunting up the head and legs, which I stuck on, and it now looks a fine specimen of the male common buzzard. Its wing had been broken by a shot. On opening its stomach I found the remains of beetles in it. Ornithologists generally commend the poor buzzard to the forbearance of the gamekeepers as a friend to the farmer in keeping down mice and noxious insects, as ‘just the instrument of Nature wanted to clear off sickly young birds, which on arriving at maturity yield an offspring of a degenerate breed.” I would go further, and, in the interest of the sheep-farmer, make it a penalty to shoot one, as the Southern States of America are forced to do with the alligators, to keep down the plague of rats and mice. THE ROUGH-LEGGED BUZZARD OR FALCON. (Buteo Lagopus.) lem. “* Hen a crow of the same nest ; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. ‘He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is.”—All’s Well that Ends Well. _ The rough-legged falcon or buzzard closely resembles the last In size, form, and plumage, except that the tarsi are feathered to the toes insteal of being half bare. There is considerable difference in the colour of this species in the proportion of brown to yellowish white ; in some the darker colour predominates, the 136 THE HONEY BUZZARD. reverse in others. The legs are short and strong; the toes shorter than the common buzzard; but the claws are long, moderately curved, and sharp. The cere and toes are yellow ; the iris also yellow. The bill and claws black, blue at the base. The general colour is dark umber brown, tinged with grey; the short feathers of the legs and ‘tarsi reddish yellow, mottled with dark brown. The tail is white for nearly two-thirds from the base; the rest brown, with a small portion of the tip brownish white. The winzs are long, much rounded, and reach to the end of the tail. The plumage is remarkably soft and blended. The male is 21 inches long; extent of wings, 51 inches ; tail, 94 inches long. The female is 234 inches, and 56 inches in extent of wings; tail, 10 inches. But being a very rare winter visitant in Scotland, a description of its nest and eggs is unnecessary here ; they are very like the others. It is a native of the colder countries, and occasionally visits Britain in autumn or winter. I have never seen one here. But Macgillivray says—* An individual was shot in Fifeshire in Dec. 1839” (the same time that I have seen the young of the common buzzard brought from Priorsmuir). Selby is the only author who has described its habits from personal observation, he having watched two that settled in his neighbourhood. “Their flight,” he says, “‘ was smooth but slow, like that of the common buzzard. They seldom continued long on the wing, and preyed upon wild ducks and other birds, which they pounced upon on the ground; and mice and frogs constitute a great part of their food, as the remains of both were found in the stomachs of those that were killed.” Tur Honey BuzzARD oR BEE HAWK. (Falco Apivorus.) Linn. There is another, called the honey buzzard, placed by Cuvier into the genus Pernis, but, as it is not only not a native of Fifeshire, but seldom breeds in Scotland, a description here would be out of place. It is more slender than the other two. It has its nest on large trees—the eggs two and three in number, thickly smeared all over with dark brown—peculiar to this species. HARRIERS. . 137 Genus, CIRCUS. Harrigrs, Generic Characters. The birds of this genus show a marked approximation to the owls on the one hand, and to the buzzards and hawks on the other. The form of the bill, the reflected bristles between the bill and the eye, and the peculiar ruff surrounding the face, resemble those owls which, from hawking in the daytime, receive the name of Accipitrine owls. Their bill bends from the base, rather weak, much compressed, forming a narrow rounded culmen or central ridge ; the tomia or cutting edge of the upper mandible has a very small festoon or sinuation near the middle of the bill, under mandible concave, its edges fitting into the grooves of the upper, showing that strength of bill was not so much needed as in the more typical falcons and hawks. Wings long ; tail long and slightly rounded ; tarsi long and slender, like the sparrow-hawk’s (but toes shorter), feathered in front below the knee-joint. Toes rather slender; middle one longest, the outer next in length ; claws moderately curved and sharp, those of the inner and hind toes the largest. They are more active than the rest of this sub-family ; and their flight, though not remarkable for speed, is light and buoyant, and can be supported for a long time in search of their prey—consisting of birds, small quadrupeds, and reptiles, which, like the buzzards, they seizeonthe ground. The plumage is very soft and blended, especially in the females, which is almost as soft as some of the owls’. When searching for food they fly low, with a gliding, easy motion. They nestle on the ground, and lay three or four egos—seldom five. Three species are found in Britain—the marsh harrier, the hen harrier, and the ash-coloured harrier. They all differ from the typical buzzards by their long slender form ; their lengthened tarsi, like the hawks’; and the distinct ruff of close-set feathers, which, like the owls, so far surrounds their face. They have large eyes and ears, which bring them also nearer the owls. 138 - THE MARSH HARRIER. THE MarsH HARRIER OR Moor Buzzarb. (Falco Afruginosus.) Linn. (Circus Rufus.) Selby. ** Now for the bare-pick’d bone of majesty, Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest, While discontents at home, and vast confusion waits (As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast) The imminent decay of wrested pomp.”—King John. In colour the marsh hatrier (which is the largest of the three) resembles the buzzards, and forms the close connecting link between the genera Luteo and Circus. The upper parts are deep umber brown ; the lower reddish brown. The upper part of the head, neck, and throat are white, tinged with yellowish brown. The primary quills are blackish brown, the rest of a lighter tint, margined with grey. The tail is light brown, tinged with grey. The plumage is soft and blended. The ruff on the face is not so conspicuous as on the other two. The wings are long, broad, and much rounded. The tail is also long and slightly rounded. The bill is brownish black ; base tinged with yellow. The iris orange ; cere, greenish yellow; tarsi and toes, rich yellow; claws, black. The nest is on the ground, amongst furze or fern—made of sticks, rushes, or grass—some- times in the fork of a large tree. The eggs, usually four, are nearly white, tinged with blue, and sometimes slightly spotted and smeared with brown. They are less than the buzzard’s, being 14 inches, against 2+ inches long. They breed early in May. The male is 214 inches long and 49 in extent of wings ; tail, 10 inches. The female is 24 inches; extent of wings 52 inches; tail scarcely 10 inches—coloured like the male. Although this bird does not breed in Fife, I have given this brief sketch—to enable my young friends to identify it—as a condensed history of the British birds. Being a marsh frequenter it is more numerous in the south than in the north of Scotland, and was once common in the fens of Cambridge, Norfolk, and Lincolnshire. But what the clearance of the woods and wilds round Priormuir has done to the buzzard in Fifeshire, the draining has done to the fens of England. The moor buzzard . was the first to cease breeding in Norfolk ; then the hen harrier ; and, lastly, the ash-coloured species. And, as if to bear out what I wish to impress upon my readers, the difference in coloured eggs (which also holds good as to the materials of nests THE HEN HARRIER. 139 in different localities), Montagu, a reliable ornithologist, main- tains that the eggs of the marsh harrier are “‘ perfectly white— without spot.” Latham, as good an authority, says they are spotted with brown.” Selby, also another reliable authority, expressly contradicts Latham’s statement, and maintains that they are “white and not spotted.” And Hewitson, in his more recent work of the coloured eggs of British birds, distinctly says that “the eges are usually spotted—sometimes quite white ;” then alters his own statement by saying ‘‘ the eggs of the marsh harrier are most commonly white, but sometimes spotted ;” and, again, as if loth to leave the question, reiterates that “‘ the eggs of the marsh harrier, although for the most part white or slightly tinged with blue, are sometimes spotted and smeared with brown, in the same manner as those of the hen harrier.” Yet, in his coloured work, he adheres to the more typical colour of the three species by making them all white, tinged with blue, without spots. The eggs of the three species may be easily known from those of the nearly allied species by the clear greenish blue of the inside, which may be seen by holding them to the ight. The harrier is migratory on the Continent, but remains in britain the whole year. The young are darker in plumage, and, as usual with the tribe, grow lighter with age. THE HEN Harrier. (Circus Cyaneus.) Flem. ‘** Now for our mountain sport: Up to yon hill, Your legs are young ; Ill tread these flats. Consider When you above perceive me like a crow It is distance which lessens and sets off.” —Cymbeline. The common or hen harrier, sometimes called the ring-tailed harrier and blue hawk, used to breed on Tentsmuir about fifty years ago; but it gradually became rarer, till now one is never seen in Fife, to my knowledge. It is considerably less than the marsh harrier, and is of a slender or elongated form. Its bulk, however, is more made up with an abundance of soft, downy feathers—like the owl’s—than size of body, for when plucked the body is short, the head large, and the bill short and slender in proportion to the other birds of the family. The eyes are large, and the ears particularly so, about half-an-inch long. There is a considerable difference in the plumage, as well as in the size, between the male and female of this species, so 140 THE HEN HARRIER. much so as at one time to have been set down as different species. And there are more synonyms of it than any other of the tribe. The general colour of the male is light greyish blue ; the head and scapulars of a deeper tint. The hind part of the back paler ; the upper tail coverts white. The outer six wing quills are black; the outer webs tinged with grey; the inner webs mottled with dark grey. The middle feathers of the tail lighter than the back ; the rest paler, until the outer web of the lateral becomes white. The inner webs of all (but the two middle) white, with eight bars of dark grey. The fore neck and part of the breast are greyish blue, lighter than the back. The middle of the breast, abdomen, and tibial feathers bluish white. The wings are long, broad, and much rounded, two inches shorter than the tail when closed. The tail is also long and straight—nearly even. The bill is bluish black ; the cere and iris yellow ; the tarsiand toes orange ; claws black, long, curved, rounded above, flat beneath, and sharp. The toes are com- paratively small. The tarsi are long and slender, and feathered about a third of their length anteriorly. Length, 184 inches to end of tail ; extent of wings, 394 inches; tail, 84 inches. The plumage of the female is softer, and the ruff on the face more conspicuous. The general colour of the back and upper wing coverts are umber brown; the upper parts of the head deep brown; the feathers shghtly edged with light yellowish red. The bristle tips at base of bill black, like the male. The cheek feathers are dull brown, edged with yellowish red. Those of the ruff, yellowish red. The upper part of the neck and breast are reddish yellow, each feather with an oblong dark brown mark. The quills are umber brown; inner webs whitish, broadly barred with brown. The upper tail coverts white, with reddish spots. The tail is white for about an inch at the base, deep brown the rest; the four middle feathers have four brown bands, the rest have five of a reddish tint; tips reddish white. The lower surface of the primary quills is greyish white, with conspicuous dark bars—hence the name of ring-tailed harriers. In fact, the general colour of the female is much darker than the male. Length, 21 inches to end of tail; extent of wings, 46 inches ; tail, 10 inches; but both male and female vary in length from 17 to 19 inches, and from 19 to 214 inches. As | is generally the case, the young of both sexes of this family resemble the adult female, and, as usual, adults grow lighter in colour with age. The hen harrier has received its name from its real or fancied habit of robbing the domestic hen of her CIRCUS CYANEUS. 141 brood (but I am afraid the real hen harrier is often that daring little plunderer the sparrow-hawk). They will often be seen hunting in pairs—male and female. They fly low, and, like the greyhound after a hare, pursue their quarry until hunted down. The hen harrier breeds chiefly in marshy districts early in May, and to bear out the different situations and forms of birds’ nest I give different authors’ accounts. Hewitson says—‘“‘ In low grounds (such as fens) the nest is placed upon the ground, and is formed of so large a quantity of flags, sedge, and reeds as to raise it 18 inches or 2 feet above the surface, to protect the eggs and young from the water by which the low grounds are often flooded. A correspondent has seen the nest raised nearly 4 feet from the foundation. The eggs, though most frequently of a spotless bluish white, are often slightly marked with yellowish brown, mixed with a purplish hue, and sometimes with more dis- tinctly defined spots of light brown.” Selby says—‘‘ It breeds on the open wastes, and frequently in thick furze covers. The nest is placed on the ground, and the eggs are four or five, of a skim-milk white colour, nearly as large as the marsh harrier.” Sir William Jardine says—‘‘ The habits differ considerably, according to the district they inhabit. Where there is a con- siderable proportion of plain and mountain, where I have had the greatest opportunities of seeing them, they always retire at the commencement of the breeding season to the hills, and during this time not one will be found in the low country. When the nest is completed, the female when hatching will not allow the male to visit the nest, but rises and drives him with screams to a distance. The nest is often made in a heath-bush by the side of a ravine, and is composed of sticks, with a very slender lining ; it is sometimes found in scaurs on the side of a steep hill—here /ittle or no nest is made, and the eggs are merely laid on the bare ground, scraped hollow. In a flat country the nest is found in a whin or other scrubby bush, sometimes a little way from the ground.” Thus we see that the hen harrier, like all other birds, vary in the form of their nest. But they do not now breed near St Andrews, having been driven from the moors. Although their prey is generally small birds and the young of larger, and young hares, rabbits, mice, frogs, &c.—which they seize on the ground—they also pursue birds in open flight, and have been often seen to seize red grouse, ptarmigan, and ‘partridges on the wing—even seizing partridges (which the dogs of sportsmen have put up) and carried them off. When the young are full-grown they, with the old birds, return to their old 142 THE ASH-COLOURED HARRIER. haunts and commit great havoc among the young game. At night they roost among whins or long heath, as they used to do on Tentsmuir and Priormuir, and always in some open spot of ground. Their general roosting-places are easily found in the daytime, and the birds may be caught by a trap or shot in the moonlight—at least Sir William Jardine says he has got them both ways, and has seen as many as seven going to roost at one time. THE ASH-COLOURED OR MONTAGU’S HARRIER. (Circus Cineraceus.) Shaw. ** T had rather hear my dog bark at a crow Than a man swear he loves me.” —‘* Beatrice,” in Much Ado about Nothing. Asa proof of the difference between the male and female of the last species and its many synonyms, this bird was confounded with it, and always considered the same species, till Montagu detected the difference, and established it as a different species— hence its name, “‘ Montagu’s harrier.” It is less than the last, and its wings, when closed, reach half an inch beyond the tail. Both male and female closely resemble the markings of the hen harriers. The plumage is also very soft and blended, and the facial ruff, though less than the common harrier, is formed the same. It also breeds in May, and makes its nest on the ground, more slightly formed than those of the other two species, and composed of sedge and rushes—the eges usually four or five (one was found with six). They are clear white, tinged with light blue, never spotted, and less than the hen harrier’s—12 inches against 1# inches. It neither breeds near St Andrews nor has been seen in the district to my knowledge. SUB-FAMILY V. MILVINA. Genus, MILVUS. Kirst, Generic Characters. After the harriers, I will class the common or red kite—the only one of the genus found in Britain. The generic characters are—bill rather strong, more like the true falcon’s ; mouth THE RED KITE. 143 large, measuring 14 inches wide. The bill is round, and forms an acute hook from the cere to the tip. The wings are very long, so is the tail, which is much forked like the swallow’s ; legs and toes short but strong. The claws are long and strong, and moderately curved ; in fact, the bill and claws of the kite, as weapons of offence, bring it nearer to the larger falcon than the harrier, and would induce us to give it a more daring character than it deserves. But if its daring does not come up to our idea from its looks, its easy and graceful flight surpasses it ; for the chief characteristic of the genus is easy gracefulness of flight, performed by little exertion in easy circles, guided by their elongated forked tail. In general form and habits they resemble the buzzards and harriers ; but their greater development of wing and peculiar forked tail are distinctive marks of separation, while their bill and claws and other characteristics bring them nearer to the more aquiline groups of the family. The plumage is also soft and blended. Rep Kire or GLEAD (Falco Milvus). Linn. ** The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed ; But, match to match, I have encountered him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows, Even of the bonnie beast he loved so well.”—King Henry VI. This beautiful bird is distinguished from the rest of the falconide by its forked tail. It is the only indigenous member of this sub-family of the raptores in Britain. It is pretty generally distributed in South Britain, as well as in the Highlands of Scotland. Selby says “it is plentiful in Aber- deenshire, and in the vicinity of Loch Katrine ;’ he had the pleasure of watching its graceful flight from the beautiful banks of Loch Awe, and had frequently seen them when passing the woods near Aleonbury Hill—a well-known breeding-place—at least they were there up to 1844; but I believe the last of them have been destroyed since. Macgillivray also says that ‘ from Stirling and Perth westward it is often seen, and in some parts of Dumbarton, Argyle, and Perth cannot be considered scarce,” which facts may have induced Burns to write before them— ‘** T fought at land, I fought at sea ; At hame I fought my auntie, O ; But I met the devil and Dundee On the braes o’ Killiecrankie, O. 144 THE RED KITE. The bauld Pitcur fell in a fur, And Clavers got a clankie, O, Or I had fed an Athole gled On the braes o’ Killiecrankie, O.” Although it is not found in Fifeshire to my knowledge, I could not pass by without remark, the type of the paper kites of our boyhood, which, with “weeby” tail, paper feathers, and lengthened string, we used to fly with such glee (and, after many a fall,) and so proudly admired, when, like the living bird, they soared and calmly settled aloft—hanging for hours, like their living prototype, resting on air. How many of those who see the paper toys hovering over the parks of London on fine summer days have any idea that the bird from which they derive their name used to float all day in hot weather over the heads of their ancestors? It was formerly so abundant in the streets of London that visitors from the Continent, four hundred years ago, made notes of their surprise at its numbers and familiarity. A learned writer, in an article upon the Bohemian Embassy to England four hundred years ago, supposes that ‘‘ Milvi,” in Schassek’s Journal, must have been a mistake for ‘‘ Cygni,” as London had always been celebrated for swans ; but other old writers leave no room for doubt that the kite was the most familiar bird with the citizens of old London. It was much more plentiful than jackdaws or pigeons are with us now; and the many allusions which Shakespeare makes to it were doubtless made from personal experience ; for instance, Macbeth’s exclamation when he sees the ghost of Banquo— ‘* See there ! behold ! look ! lo! how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too— If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send Those that we bury, back, owr monwments Shall be the maws of kites.” This horrible picture no doubt is taken from his seeing the kites gobbling up the carrion in the streets of London. And when Macduff is told of the murder of his wife and children by Macbeth, how tellingly he introduces the kite— ‘* He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O, hell-kite/ All? What! all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop ?” What a use for the London scavenger—to gobble up the offal of hell! He makes Hamlet also bitterly exclaim— ** But I am pigeon-liver’d, and lack gall To make oppression bitter ; or, ere this, FALCO MILVUS. 145 I should have fatted all the legion kites With this slave’s offal : Bloody, bawdy villain !. Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain !” And almost to prove that Shakespeare took his similes from the kites of London, he makes Coriolanus say, in answer to the question ‘‘ Where dwellest thou ?” Cor. ‘‘ TV’ the city of kites and crows ? Serv. JV’ the city of kites and crows? Then thow dwellest with daws too?” Kites being as plentiful as daws were in the streets of London in his time. In the “ Winter’s Tale ” the thief Autolycus says— ‘“‘ My traffic is sheets ; when the kite builds look to lesser imen— My father was likewise a snapper up of trifles.” The kite would no doubt snap up “lesser linen ” when it built its nest in London. He makes the braggart Pistol say in ‘‘ Henry V.”— ‘* And from the powdering tub of infamy Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind.” Cressida—though a priest’s daughter—being the very type of falsehood in woman. Troilus. ‘‘O, Cressid ! O, false Cressid ! false, false, false, Let all untruths stand by thy stained name !” Or, as Lennox says to Macbeth— ‘¢ The obscene bird clamour’d the livelong night.” But his allusions to the kite are various, as if it was ever before his mind as a carrion bird of the worst kind. Yet it is proverbial for the ease and gracefulness of its flight— sweeping the air in wide circles, with motionless wings, or with an almost imperceptible beat at distant intervals, directing its course by its long tail, which acts as a rudder, and whose slightest motion guides it—like the easy sweep of the dolphins’ in the sea. It often soars to such a height as to be almost lost to human ken, gliding and sailing with outspread wings and extended tail. Buffon says—‘“‘ One cannot but admire the flight of the kite; his long, narrow wings seem motionless; the tail seems to direct all his evolutions, and he moves it continually ; he rises without effort, comes down as if sliding along an inclined plane ; he seems rather to swim than to fly ; he darts forward, slackens his speed, stops, and remains suspended or fixed in the 146 THE RED KITE. same place for whole hours without showing the slightest motion of his wings.” This answers for a paper kite with the string tethered to the ground. No wonder the living kite was selected as the pattern for the toy ones. Wordsworth also notes this sailing habit of the kite amongst other birds— ** The sailing glead, The wheeling swallow, and the darting snipe ; The sporting sea-gull dancing with the waves ; And cautious water-fowl from distant climes Were subject to young Oswald’s steady aim, And lived by his forbearance.” Mr Weir, a close observing ornithologist, says-—“In the neighbourhood of Bathgate during twelve years I have only seen one male. For three seasons he frequented the same parish, daily visiting the same localities about the same hour. Amongst partridges and other birds he committed great havoc. His flight was easy and graceful, consisting of curves and wide circles ; by the almost imperceptible motion of his wings, guided by his long tail, he occasionally soared to a great height. He often delighted and astonished the inhabitants, who thought he was one of Jove’s noble birds come from the north to visit our more genial clime.” From this we are not only reminded of the appropriate origin of our paper kites or “dragons,” but, also, that it had other uses than merely to gobble up the offal thrown broadcast on the streets of London before sanitary laws were enacted ; and helps to prove the elastic characteristics of our carrion birds—from the carrion crow up to the condor of the Andes. Indeed, the kite was once called the “royal kite,” and used by royalty to hunt along with falcons and hawks, which may account for the monstrous salary of the “ Hereditary Grand Falconer and Master of the Hawks,” drawn by the Duke of St Albans, and paid by the nation. Mr Hanbury, in the House of Commons, lately brought out that the Duke draws (1) a salary for doing nothing ; (2) an allowance for falconers whom he does not employ; (3) an allowance for hawks which he does not keep ; and (4) an allowance for feeding hawks which have no existence. The emoluments of the office used to be— Salary, - - - - - - pool .t 1s Four falconers, - - - - 200 0 0 Purchase of hawks, - : - - 600 0 O Hawks’ food, - - - - - 182 10 0 £1,373 11 5 THE SWALLOW-TAILED ELANUS. 147 It were better for working men to question such sinecures and equally monstrous mining “ Royalties,” than blindly cutting down the hours of national competitive labour and making destructive war against capital. Like “‘strike-fed”” demagogues, the kite is a multifarious feeder, and a great depredator of chickens, ducklings, and goslings in the districts where it abounds. Montagu tells that one was so intent on getting chickens from a coop that a servant girl knocked it down witha broom ; and when a woman was washing entrails in a burn one swooped down and bore off a large portion, trailing yards in the water, in spite of her efforts to frighten it away—an apt illustration of the proverb—“ It’s no for nocht the glead whustles.” It is now confined to the wilder districts and largest woods, building its nest in the fork of a large tree ; it is composed of sticks, lined with grass, wool, and other soft materials. It is, like the rest, an early breeder, and lays three or four eggs, greyish white, speckled with light brown at the larger end—sometimes plain, not unlike the common buzzard’s, and sometimes beautifully covered with light rufus blotches ; others with lilac and purple—they are 24 by 1? inches. The general colour of both male and female is reddish orange, streaked with brownish black—hence “ red-kite;” head and neck, greyish white ; breast, belly, and long feathers of the thighs, reddish orange, also streaked with black. Tips of wings when closed reach to the fork of the tail; bill, light brown at base ; tip, black; cere and iris, yellow ; tarsi and feet, rich orange yellow ; claws, black. The male is 25 inches to end of tail ; extent of wings, 61 inches; tail, 13} inches. The female, 27 and 63 inches; and tail, 14 inches. The young birds, as usual, are darker coloured ; the adult grows lighter with age. THE SWALLOW-TAILED ELANUS OR SWALLOW KITE. (Falco Furcatus.) Linn. (Elanus Furcatus.) Savigny. Ornithologists introduce another genus, Elanus, as an occasional visitor; but, with two exceptions, one killed in Argyleshire and one caught in Yorkshire, there seems to be no authentic instance of their very rare visits—a slender title for a British bird. It is called the swallow-tailed kite or hawk, white- headed swallow kite, &c. It is less than the red-kite, and generally agrees with the generic characters of the sub-family. 148 THE OWLS. With it I conclude the diurnal birds of prey. Before introducing the nocturnal ones—the owls—I may observe that, under the general heading of Raptores, the British birds of prey may be summed up in the two families—the Falconide and the Strigide —divided into sub-families and genera, as already described (leaving aside the Vulturide). The first sub-familyis Aquilina-— genus I. Aquila, eagle; genus II. Halictus, sea eagle ; genus III. Pandion, osprey. The second sub-family is Accipitrina, the hawks—genus I. Aster, the gos-hawk ; genus II. Accdpiter, the sparrow-hawk. The third sub-family is the Falconina or true faleons—genus I. Falco, including the jer falcon, the peregrine, the hobbys, the kestrel, and the merlin. The fourth sub-family is the Buteonina, the buzzards and harriers—genus I. Buteo, embracing the three buzzards; genus II. Pernis, represented by the honey buzzard; genus III. Circus, comprises the three harriers. The fifth sub-family is the Milvina—genus I. Milvus, the red-kite ; genus II. Hlanus, the swallow kite, last noticed. PEV AS LON Li: FAMTGY IVs sVRI GID 24. THE Ow is, Generic Characters. The owls, or night birds of prey, are so different from the other raptores—in their large head, staring eyes, and peculiar facial expression—as not only to separate them, but to suggest that Nature has left a blank between them and the diurnal birds of prey. They are distinguished by their large round head, short neck, broad rounded wings, short tail, and peculiar soft, downy plumage, feathered tarsi, versatile outer toe, and much hooked bill and claws. The unusually large eyes are fixed in their orbits, or have very little motion, directed obliquely forward so that an object may be seen by both at once, like those of man; but to make up for this the head can turn round as on a pivot. To “stare like an owl,” as ‘‘ grave as an owl,” are common expressions for grotesque gravity, dullness, or stupidity, like an owl at noon. Their large eyes enable them to see their prey in the twilight, and even at night ; and the extreme STRIGIDA. 149 development of the external aperture of the ear, with its fringes, is also wisely formed to catch the faintest sound, as if Nature had taken pleasure in enabling them to fulfil the peculiar mission. assigned them in keeping down an exuberance of those destructive creatures which roam about in the dark ; but, along with their sensitive hearing and sight, when we add the peculiar lightness and noiselessness of their flight, the care and perfection of Nature is complete. The margins of their wing feathers being loose and divided into fine filaments, offer the least possible resistance in passing through the air, while their pro- gress is by a slow and gentle motion of them, which did not -escape the observing eye of Nature’s poet, who in ‘“‘ Henry VI.” makes Warwick attribute the loss of the Battle of St Albans to the slow use of his own soldiers’ weapons— ‘* Their weapons like to lightning came and went; Our soldiers—like the night owl’s lazy flight, Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail— Fell gently down as if they struck their friends.” They prey on small quadrupeds, such as mice, or birds, moths and beetles, some of them occasionally on fishes. Small birds and mice are usually swallowed whole, the indigestible parts disgorged in pellets. Their nocturnal habits, gloomy haunts, harsh and “ eerie” hooting, have characterised the owl as a bird of ill omen, which is borne out by Henry VI. exclaiming—just before being stabbed by hunchback Gloster— ** The owl shricked at thy birth, an evil sign ; Dogs howIl’d, and hideous tempests shook down trees ; The raven rook’d her on the chimney’s top, And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.” And in the same play, Edward orders in the dead body of Clifford, saying— ‘* Bring forth that fatal sereech-owl to our house, That nothing sung. but death to us and ours ; Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, And his wl-boding tongue no more shall speak.” The conjuror Bolingbroke also says to the Duchess of Gloster before calling up the spirits— ‘* Patience, good lady ; wizards know their times ; Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, The time of night when Troy was set on fire ; The time when screech-owls cry, and bandogs howl, And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves— That time best fits the work we have in hand.” 150 THE OWLS. And when Queen Margaret bids Suffolk curse his enemies, he replies— Suff. ‘Should I not curse them? Poison be their drink ! Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste ! Their music, frightful as the serpent’s hiss ; And boding sereech-owls make the concert full ! All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell— Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk ; thou torment’st thyself.” In Julius Cesar too, with his sword drawn, what a picture of the thunder-storm Casca draws— ** OQ, Cicero, T have seen tempests when the scolding winds Have riv’d the knotty oaks ; and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam ; But never till to-night, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire ; And, yesterday, the bird of night did sit, Even at noon-day, upon the market-place, Hooting and shrieking.” And when Lady Macbeth has urged Macbeth on to murder Duncan, she cries— Lady M. ‘‘ Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman, Which gives the sternest good-night.” And when Macbeth enters, saying— ‘*T have done the deed. Did’st thou not hear a noise?” All she says is ‘**T heard the owl scream and the crickets ery ;” No:doubt considering the shriek of the owl the worst of omens, and I merely give these quotations to bear this out. Burns also identifies the owl with the most gloomy thoughts and situations. For instance, he says, if you want the antiquary, Captain Grose, ** By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin’, Or kirk deserted by its riggin’, It’s ten to ane you'll find him snug in Some eldritch part Wi deils, they say, Lord save’s ! colleaguin’ At some black art.” And in “ Tam o’ Shanter” he says— “Tam skelpit on through dub and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; Whiles glowering round, wi’ prudent cares, STRIGID®. 151 Lest bogles catch him unawares ; Kirk Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly ery.” He also begins a pretty long poem “ To the Owl” with ‘* Sad bird of night what sorrows call thee forth To vent thy plaints thus in the midnight hour ? Is it some blast that gathers in the north Threatening to nip the verdure of thy bower ?” And all for what? Simply because some of the most useful birds in creation select the retired and suitable shelters for the day, and enter upon their useful mission at night, sometimes giving vent to their own peculiar hooting cry. They generally nestle in the holes of trees, old nests, crevices of rocks, holes in old buildings, dovecots, ivy, and some of them on the ground. Like all the Raptores they are early breeders ; most of them are nocturnal or crepuscular feeders, sallying out at the close of day when other birds are retiring to roost, and when the creatures which form their food are also quitting their holes to commit havoc in fancied security during the silence and darkness of night—not knowing that the owl is noiselessly watching them from above. Shakespeare was not a bad naturalist when he makes Macbeth say— ‘* Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood : Good things of day begin to droop and drouse ; Whiles night black agents to their prey do rouse.” Some of the species, such as the Hawk Owls, which come nearest the diurnal birds of prey, pursue their mission the same as the Falconide. One peculiar feature of the Strigide is the almost perfect similarity of their eggs in all but size, being all white and nearly round, a distinctive feature we should hardly expect in birds so different in size and haunts—the eggs laid in the holes of trees and old ruins being the same as those laid on the ground. Another generic feature, is the larger the facial disk the more developed is the sense of hearing—hence the more nocturnal ; and the less the disk and ear, the nearer the species approach to the diurnal birds of prey. Linneus placed all the owls in one genus, Strix, enlarged since into seven genera, viz.:—Genus I. Bubo, or eagle-owl; II. Otus, eared-owl ; III. Scops, or Scops-eared owl; IV. Surnia, hawk-owl; V. Strix, screech-owl; VI. Ulula, hooting-owl; VII. Noctua, night-owl. 152 THE EAGLE-OWL. THE GREAT-HORNED OR EAGLE-OWL. (Strix Bubo.) Linn. (Bubo Maxinus.) Sibbald. ‘* They say the owl was a baker’s daughter— Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.” —Ophelia. This is the largest owl found in Britain, if not in the world, equal in size to some of the largest eagles; but as it does not visit the grey old city, and very seldom seen in Britain, I shall merely glance at it in passing, as my young friends may wish to know what a ‘‘ Great-Horned Eagle Owl” is like. In colour and form he is very like his little brother, the common long- eared or horned owl, and his “‘ Great Horns ” are simply long feathers on each side of his head, right above his large, bright orange eyes; and his name of eagle is taken from his great size and colour. The male is 24 inches to end of tail, and 58 inches in extent of wings. The female is 26 and 61 inches; the tail about 11 inches long. It builds its nest on the rocky side of mountains, or on lofty trees, in the North of Europe. Lays three or four eggs, 24 by nearly 2 inches—the roundest of all birds’ eggs. They take about thirty-six days to hatch. Linneus, the great authority, ‘‘ found a nest in which the first egg was laid on the 13th of April, two others a week after ; of which two were hatched on the 19th and the other on the 22nd of May.” The wings are long, of great breadth, and rounded. The claws are long, much curved, and very sharp. It preys upon fawns, rabbits, ducks, grouse, rats, &c. Like all the rest of the family, the plumage is very soft and blended with down. The general colour is reddish yellow, spotted and barred with dark brown. The facial disk extends two-thirds round the eyes. THE Long-EARED OwL—CoMMON OR HORNED OWL. (Strix Otus.) Linn. (Otus Vulgaris.) Flem. ** Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? Let him that will a screech-owl aye be called, Go into Troy and say there, Hector’s dead.” —Troilus and Cressida. This owl is found in most of our woody districts, especially in fir woods. The general colour is buff or reddish yellow, minutely STRIX OTUS. 153 and beautifully mottled with white, brown, and black, and light red—hence it is called the mottled tufted owl. The plumage is extremely soft ; the wings long and very broad ; the facial discs and ruff round the eyes are complete; the eyes are very large, and the ear developed to its greatest extent, which makes the long-eared owl the most typical and perfect as a nocturnal bird of prey. The conch of the ear extends in a semilunar form from over the eye to the very base of the lower mandible—its posterior elevated margin being 3 inches long, its anterior raised into a semicircular flap or operculum beset with recurved feathers. Its long tuft of six or eight raised feathers, called ears, about 14 inch long, easily distinguishes it from the rest of our indigenous owls, by which it is readily known. The irides are orange ; the legs and toes are clothed with pale buff-coloured feathers to the claws, which are long, very sharp, and curved. It generally preys on field mice and moles—as many as five skulls of mice have been found in its stomach at one time—the mice being swallowed entire. To be such a common bird, it is amusing to see how little our ornithologists seem to know of its habits, and how much they disagree. Some maintain that it is strictly nocturnal, “‘seldom seen hunting for prey before it is quite dusk,” and that ‘‘if Sol sometimes surprises the nocturnal wanderer feasting on his prey in the meadow, he seeks the friendly shelter of the hedgerow or neighbouring wood, where he hopes to remain in peace until night again throws her veil over Nature. Vain are his hopes, for a prying wren has discovered the intruder, and sounds an alarm. The robin, the whitethroat, the chanter, and other birds hasten to the spot. First and foremost are the chaffinches—they buffet him, peck at and menace him on every side, while the owl turns his eyes from party to party, evading their blows as well as he can. The uproar is now great, each bird in his mother tongue venting execrations against the poor owl. On such occasions one may get within a few feet of. it. At length he takes wing, flies a short distance, pursued by a chaffinch or two. On alighting he is still persecuted, and unless he gain some suitable roosting- place among the fir trees the alarm-notes of these watchful birds are heard the livelong day.” This is a very pretty picture of its utter inability to hunt during the day, for as small birds are always flying about in the daytime, the owl would be con- tinually mobbed, according to Mr Hepburn, one of Macgillivray’s correspondents. Mr Luke and Mr Hewitson, on the other hand, declare that ‘“‘ this species does not confine its flight entirely to L 154 THE LONG-EARED OWL. the darker hours, as we have met them in the woods sailing quietly along, as if hawking, on a bright sunny day, and invariably found in or around the nest feathers and other remains of birds; in one case a freshly-killed chaffinch, in another the wing of a snipe, and several smaller birds; and in a pellet the indigestible pad of a young hare or rabbit.” So here are two totally different versions. Macgillivray admits that “of its nocturnal flight he is unable to speak.” Nor do authors agree one whit better about the number of eggs or mode of hatching them. Mr Luke thinks three is the usual number, and that the bird commenced incubation when the jirst egg was laid, as ‘‘ there could not be less than eight or ten days’ difference in the age of the young ones he saw, so that some days must intervene between the production of each egg, the female beginning to sit as soon as the first eggs are laid— a provision which enables the old birds the more readily to supply the demands of their voracious progeny.” Mr Alfred Newton, on the other hand, says the “usual number of eggs are four, although the gamekeeper found a nest with five eggs, and his brother saw six young ones in the same nest.” He also says he “has got wheatears, willow-wrens, and chaffinches, or at least their remains, in its nest ;” and regarding incubation he says—‘ My experience is opposed to Messrs Luke’s opinion, for I think it delays incubation wntil its clutch of eggs is completed.” These different opinions bear out my observations on the varying habits of birds accommodating themselves to different localities and circumstances, although in the main true to their species. Like the rest of the family it is an early breeder. On the 17th of April 1863 I got a nest in a larch and Scotch fir wood at Allanhill (since cut down) with three ripe young ones and three rotten eggs—an unusual thing; and next day, the 18th, I got another nest in the old fir park on Tentsmuir with five eggs, some of them fresher than others, which shows that this bird had been later in breeding, or had been harried before. But I have got young owls nearly ripe as early as the end of March-—two of which I kept for about a year. They were taken from a small wood called Clash Wood, about five miles from St Andrews. ‘There were three in the nest and two rotten eggs. It may possibly be owing to its early breeding that the » owl is set down as the representative bird of January in Cassell’s “ Birds of the Month”— ** January 1891 owl ;” ** What songster wakens when across the snow STRIX OTUS. hod The New Year enters at the midnight still? A dark form flits from out the leafless bough, The owl wails forth a greeting wild and shrill.” On the Ist of May 1853 I got a nest with four young ones on one of the large fir trees on Tentsmuir ; there was considerable difference in the age of the birds, for some were nearly ripe, and one was far from being fledged, which proves that, in some nests at least, some are hatched before the others. On the 19th of April 1856 I got another nest on one of the large Scotch fir trees where I got the last ; there were three young ones and one egg still unhatched. The oldest seemed to be about four days old ; the next two days ; and the other newly hatched—the two youngest were blind, the other not so. To show how keen the mother was in her incubation—although the nest was upwards of thirty feet from the ground—she did not leave her post until I climbed up and touched the nest. The male flew off when I approached within twenty yards of the tree. The young owls were covered with grey-white down (or as nearly white as could be). They have no “ bars of faint brown when newly hatched,” as some authors assert, although I have got their nests when the young were older—dusky white, with the bars beginning to shine through the down. Their bills were completely developed and well formed, of a fine leaden blue colour. They were too young to emit any cry, or be aware of any intruder. On lifting the oldest one it half-opened its eyes, then instantly shut them as if the light affected them. The others could not open theirs ; the youngest was much swollen about the eyelids, and the little creature crowdled down and pushed itself underneath its fellows as well as it could. The formation of the large opening for the ear was quite distinct. I left the hatched young, but took the ego, wrongly thinking it was addled. I carefully inspected the nest—it was an old carrion crow’s repaired, with the addition of some fur; there were several old fir cones in it as large as the egg. JI picked them out, as they were uncomfortable to the young ones. The owl might have had as much instinct as have pitched them overboard herself. I lay at the foot of a tree, six yards off, to watch the old bird, as I knew she would not remain long away from the young so recently hatched. She soon came and alighted on a tree about 600 yards off, gradually coming nearer until within forty yards ; then noiselessly glided amongst the trees until close to the one on which the nest was ; then rose about two feet above the tree and alighted down upon the nest with as much ease and precision as any diurnal bird, 156 THE LONG-EARED OWL. although the sun was shining brightly. It evinced no wavering in its flight, nor was the tree in any dark place of the scattered wood, which is merely an old enclosed park with a number of scragey birch trees, with here and there a very large Scotch fir, on one of which the nest was, Tw enty of these large trees are at intervals growing around the outskirts of the deserted old park, on one of which I got both a kestrel’s and a carrion crow’s nest within four yards of each other ; the one with eggs, the other with newly-hatched young. Although the owl came quite near me I could not detect the tufted feathers on the head—in flying they lay these long feathers flat ; but, like the cockatoo with its crest, the owl can erect or lay these “ horns” or “ ears” at will. Neither male nor female emitted any cry when they flew away ; but, at a distance, the male twice uttered a peculiar cry, betwixt a screech and a champing of the bill, and as he glided amongst the trees the wood pigeons flew hurriedly away as if frightened. After the female was on her nest again she did not leave it, although I was tramping about and climbing trees in close proximity. It was a bright sunny day, yet these owls showed none of that exaggerated awkwardness mentioned by Mr Hepburn in Macgillivray’s ; British Birds ”—one of his authorities. There were chaffinches, robins, tits, and other small birds in abundance, yet they took little notice of these owls, and certainly did not mob them, and could not, for the owls though disturbed flew as precisely as they did. Within four yards of the nest the small birds were sporting amongst the branches. Isawa pair of robins engaged in active love enjoying themselves on a tree quite close to the owl’s nest. The nest itself was near the top of the tree and exposed to hght and sun. The pellet castings, as usual, con- sisting chiefly of the remains of mice, lay scattered on the ground. On May 14th, 1864, I got a nest, with four deep- -sitten egos, in a low Scotch fr near the outskirts of Kinglassie wood (since cut down). It was in an old carrion crow’s, newly lined with wire-grass and heather roots, with soil attached ; and lined with softer grasses, a few stray horse hairs, and a small bunch of cow hair placed there by the owls to raise up the inside of the old nest to make it flatter and drier—there being about three inches of the roots and soil, and an inch of the ‘softer orasses. When I came near the tree the male was sitting on a larch fir about ten yards of, and flew noiselessly, but somewhat clumsily, away. The female sat until I began to climb the tree. They both flew away and did not return while I was there, although I was fully a quarter of an hour inspecting the nest. I left the STRIX OTUS. 157 eggs, as I saw from their blae colour and the bird’s reluctance to quit the nest that they were nearly hatching. I returned in a fortnight, climbed the tree and found the young all dead—no doubt the work of civilization and the gun. Next year, in the end of March, a nest was got with two young ones and two eggs—all were taken. A fortnight after, the same bird had four eggs in an old carrion crow’s nest a few yards away. These being also taken the owl returned to the first nest and had other four eggs. I have known of six eggs being found, and as many as eight taken from one nest, possibly some of them old ones; but four is the usual number. This year, (1892) I know of two nests being got on the 3rd and 5th of April, with four eggs each. If, as Lady Macduff says, ‘‘ the poor wren, the most diminutive of birds, will fight for her young ones in the nest against the owl,” even so will the owl fight against man. To prove this and to show the owl’s courage—On May 14th, 1887, a nest with three ripe young ones was found in Magusmuir wood—near where Archbishop Sharpe was murdered ; on climbing up to harry them the lad was so violently attacked by the old bird that he was forced to come down the tree and get a long-pointed stick, with which he made a hole in the under side of the nest to let the young ones fall through. I have often seen the owl in autumn sailing noiselessly over stooky fields hunting after field mice, floating, like a feather, on the air; then suddenly pounce down amongst the stooks or stubble, and remain—possibly devouring its prey—until I came near, when it would rise and fly away. It could easily be shot when thus engaged in dusky twilight and near dark, also in the moonlight. When it is known that an owl will destroy from 6,000 to 8,000 mice annually for itself, the great number destroyed for its brood—thus silently and at night when the farmer is asleep—proves that it is one of his best and most faithful servants. As it is questioned if it destroys rats, the following paragraph which recently appeared in the Hast of fife Record speaks for itself :— ‘On Sunday evening, while a number of people were going homewards to Pittenweem from the Waterworks at Ovenstone, and while passing over the bridge which crosses the Dreel burn south of Grangemuir, an amusing incident was observed. The flutterings of a large bird (which was after- wards discovered to be an owl) over the course of the burn drew the attention of the onlookers. After viewing the movements of the bird for some time it was seen to make a sudden dart downwards into the water course, and rise again with what was distinctly seen to be a large water rat, which struggled hard to gain release from its captor. The owl, however, 158 THE LONG-EARED OWL. kept master of the situation, and flew northwards to the adjacent woods of Grangemuir, in which he was lost sight of.” And on May 23rd, 1887, along with others I saw an owl hovering above Lochty burn, when it also suddenly pounced upon and bore up a large brown rat in its talons, and flew away with it to a wood close by ; which proves that owls prey upon rats as well as mice. I had to cut all the food for the two young owls I kept, as they would not tear it in pieces for themselves, and as the bills of all owls are nearly hidden by bristly feathers this seems natural ; but as they grew older they swallowed mice and such birds as sparrows entire, beginning at the head; and after swallowing all but the tail and legs they paused for a short time to take breath, then completed the operation, feathers and all— the refuse bones and feathers or fur being afterwards vomited in pellets, which is characteristic of the family. In fact, it is essential that tame owls get their food with the fur or feathers on, as many die from getting their food too clean. I kept them in a large darkish outhouse; they never became very tame or sociable, but hissed liked cats and made a snapping noise with their bill, and seized their food with avidity by their talons. They generally both sat upright, staring with their large, lustrous, orange-coloured eyes, which shone like little balls of fire in the semi-darkness. To show that their eyes are lustrous in the dark—An uncle of mine, a coasteuardsman, many years ago, when going his usual beat with his gun at night along Kinkell Braes, saw a pair of eyes staring at him on the brae between the ‘‘ Maiden Stane” and ‘‘ Kinkell Cave.” He felt eerie, and hailed the suspicious-looking object to speak in the king’s name, or he would fire. Receiving no answer he hailed again and again, while the eyes kept staring at him. Getting irritated and afraid, he levelled his gun and fired ; something moved, then all was dark. Mustering courage, he went to the place and found a fine specimen of the horned-owl, shot dead. It had been sitting on the brae quite close to him; and this agrees with my own observation of the owls I had when sitting on their perch in the dark. The male is 143 inches to end of tail (which is short—an inch shorter than the wings when closed), and 36 inches in extent of wings. The female, as usual, is larger, from 16 to 17 inches to end of tail, and 40 inches in extent of wings. The eggs are about the size of a wood pigeon’s, but rounder. OTUS BRACHYOTOS. 159 THE SHORT-EARED OR HAWK-OWL. (Strex Otus.) Linn. (Otus Brachyotos.) Cuv. “The night to the owl and morn to the lark.” —Shakespeare. In colour, size, and softness of plumage this owl resembles the last (whose horns of ten or twelve feathers project an inch), only this one is darker, and the feathers more streaked with liver brown—hence it is called the streaked-tufted owl, as the other is the mottled-tufted owl; but the head is smaller; the so-called horns of three feathers much shorter, projecting only half-an-inch ; and the disc round the eyes much darker, which easily distinguish them. The tarsi and toes, also feathered to the claws, are stronger than the last ; the bill is also stronger. It is well-named the hawk owl or mouse hawk, as it is liker the day birds of prey than most of the owls, and is one of the links between the Falconide and them. As the ear-tufts are hardly noticed when the bird is dead it is sometimes mistaken for another species. Although its prey chiefly consists of field mice, &c., it will snatch up chickens from the door and chase pigeons like a sparrow-hawk in daylight ; it strikes down and carries off grouse—birds double its weight ; it also preys on small birds, such as larks and buntings. Its nest, unlike the rest of the owls, is placed on the ground amongst heather, sedges, or rushes. The eggs, usually five, are a little larger than those of the last, being 12 by 14 inches. Fifty years ago it bred on Priormuir and Tentsmuir; but during all my rambles for many years I have not found one of their nests, and I am not aware of it breeding now in Fife, unless on the Lomond Hills. Its nest is seldom found in the south of England, where it is considered migratory from October to March, and is called the ‘“‘ Woodcock Owl,” from its coming and leaving the same time as that bird ; but in the moors and wilder districts of Scotland it is generally distributed. It merely scrapes a hollow amongst the heath and lays on the bare ground, sometimes in a bunch of long heather ; and in fenny ground amongst sedges or rushes. As I have repeatedly mentioned Tentsmuir, I may say it is a wide stretch of moorland between the Firth of Tay and the river Eden— bounded on the east by St Andrews Bay, where the Norsemen and Danes often landed, and the word Yents-muir probably takes its rise from temporary settlements in tents. Little is generally 160 THE SHORT-EARED OWL. known of this interesting part of Fife. The steamers pass it by on the north ; the railway shunts it by on the west; the Eden fences it on the south; and the ripples or breakers of St Andrews Bay (where lie the sunk ribs of the steamer ‘‘ Dalhousie” and other wrecks) guard it on the east; and yet it is within four miles of our old city by sea, near the submerged banks of Tay, where at low water I have counted about fifty seals sporting at one time on sand banks, which, according to the old historian, George Buchanan, were originally begun by a sunken Danish fleet. This lonely moor, extensive sands, and booming sea reminds one forcibly of Byron’s “ Address to the Ocean,” in which he says— ‘* There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.” A local antiquarian—Mr David Harley, Builder, Tayport, originally of Leuchars, who died in 1887, and as man and boy had known Tentsmuir for seventy years—had “played beside the Foremunt Loch and the Lang Loch when their waters smiled in the sunshine or dashed in mimic wrath against the clumps of reeds which formed their shores ; where now, as a con- sequence of drainage, there are nothing but stretches of sandy moorland, dotted by patches of heather and stunted marsh grasses. On the shores of these lochs flourished dense masses of whins, which grew to enormous size, their stems sometimes eight or nine inches through, and in their branches the wood pigeons built their nests.” Many a time would he tell of his having (when a boy) harried their nests three feet from the ground. In after years Tentsmuir, with its wide range of history, extending from the flint age and the shellmound builders down through the stone and bronze ages (to what may be termed recent antiquities), was to him an open book. He was often consulted as to the past of Tentsmuir—he pointed out the localities where the flint implements and other antiquities for which the district is famed are to be found; the sites of old villages ; the hearths of fires—cold for centuries—lying deep beneath the present surface of the moor; the strange circular dwellings, whose origin lies hid in the mists of the past ; the OTUS BRACHYOTOS. 161 shellmounds and kitchen middens of early races of men were always examined with keen interest, under his guidance and shrewd remarks. In reference to the flint implements, he said he recognised the workmanship of one particular individual, the excellence of whose handiwork he considered unmistakable— being a mason and lapidary himself his opinion had weight. He always referred to this workman with admiration as “ that clever fallow.” “I’ve found flint arrowheads,” he would say, “‘in different pairts o’ the muir a’ the way frae the Channel Wuds to Reres Farm, some o’ them wi’ very little wark upon them, ithers as finely shaped as if intended for jewellery ; but I could aye tell that clever fallow’s wark whenever I got my hand’s on’t.” It was no use pointing out that flint implements represented a vast period of time, when many generations of flint workers must have lived and died, left or lost their implements— he adhered to his point, and referred to a particular place on the moor where “that clever fallow” lived. Certainly the finest specimens of flint workmanship have been found around the spot indicated. He knew every foot of Tentsmuir, and picked up many fine specimens of flint work; but this extensive moor is equally interesting as a haunt for our feathered friends— especially sea-birds—thousands of terns, plovers, ducks, curlews, redshanks, and other birds come there annually to breed, both on the surface of the moor and in the many rabbit burrows. Already, on the 8th of April this year, 1892, mallard and teal ducks’ eggs have been got, as well as long-eared owls’, and a stray capercailzie cock was also seen in the old Fir-Park Wood at the same time; while grouse, recently brought to the moor and protected, are increasing rapidly, and possibly a short-eared owl may also be seen again. If disturbed in its breeding haunts this owl flies a short distance, stares at the object of alarm, and visibly erects its short horn-like feathers. If a dog be there it hovers above it, utters a querulous cry, and gives an impatient snap of its bill, like an angry horse champing its bit, as I have heard the long-eared one doin the old Fir-Park. It is about two inches larger than the last. The male is 15 inches to the end of tail, and 17 inches to the tip of wings when closed, and 38 inches in extent of wings; the female’s two inches larger, the tail, as in all owls, being comparatively much shorter than the falcon’s or hawk’s. Like all owls it has very large eyes, the irides bright gamboge yellow (like most of them), and its ears are also furnished with a conch and an operculum. To show that this owl is now rare—when the Marquis of Lothian’s 162 THE LITTLE-HORNED OWL, AND SNOWY OWL. gamekeeper was grouse-shooting the other year, near the top of the “ Carter,” he shot one, in noticing which the press said— “though this bird is not unfrequently met with in Scotland and England, this is the first specimen said to be killed in the neighbourhood of Jedburgh.” THE Scops-EKARED OWLET OR LITTLE-HORNED OWL. (Strix Scops.) Linn. (Scops Aldrovandi.) Will and Ray. ‘* There, hooting, I will list more pleased to thee Than ever lover to the nightingale.” —Burns. This pretty little owl is so very rare in Britain that, perhaps, I should not have noticed it here, only I wish to tell my readers that—although it is the smallest of all our owls—it is so very like the largest, the great-horned eagle owl, as well as our common long-eared owl, that I could not pass it by without. saying it is only 74 inches long—not so big as a blackbird, but is as anxious and as able to seize a beetle or a moth, or even a shrew mouse, as the eagle owl is to pounce upon a fawn, a rabbit, or a hare. It has all the characteristics of the larger owls. It nestles in the fissures of rocks and holes of trees, and lays four or five roundish white eggs, 14 by 1 inch, the smallest of the whole. It is very common in Italy, where it is remarked for its plaintive cry of kew, kew, repeated at intervals of two: seconds, all night long; but, no doubt, The hooting of this little owl will please, When heard within its own retreat, For even will the soughing of the trees, If heard in peace of mind, be sweet. THE Snowy or Day OWL. (Strix Nyctea.) Linn. (Surnia Nyctea.) Dumeril. ‘¢ When owls do fly On the bat’s back I do fly.”—Avriel, in “ The Tempest.” Except the great-horned eagle owl, this beautiful owl is the largest found in Britain; but it does not breed with us, only in the Orkney and Shetland Isles. Its head is six inches across, including feathers. The facial disc is not complete, and does STRIX FLAMMEA. 163: not extend above the eyes. It hunts during the day as well as night—in this and other respects it approaches nearer to the Falconide than the rest of the owls. Its flight is more rapid and active, less buoyant, and pursues such birds as ducks, grouse, or pigeons on the wing, and it strikes them—not unlike a peregrine faleon—which its longer tail, wings, and claws enable it to do. It also pursues rabbits and hares when they are running, and trusts more to pursuit than surprise—unlike the more nocturnal owls ; its plumage is aiso closer than theirs. It preys upon all kinds of animal food, and even on fishes, which it seizes with its very sharp claws. It is found in all the northern parts of the world. It is the Harfung of the Swedes. Its colour is white, spotted and barred with brown on the head and neck; the legs and toes are covered to the claws with hairy-like feathers ; its bill is also covered almost to the tip; iris bright yellow. It has its nest on the ledges of rocks, also on the ground, and lays three _ or four white eggs. The round white eggs and feathered legs of all the owls, like a well-agreeing human family, knit them together better than most families of birds. The male is 23 inches long to end of tail, and 56 inches in extent of wings. The female, much larger, is 26 and 65 inches. But, as we have no cliffs high enough about St Andrews, I shall leave our snowy friends to the wilder rocks and cliffs of Scandinavia. THE BARN OWL, SCREECH OWL, WHITE OWL. (Siria Flammea.) Linn. ‘© Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shrowd.”’ ‘ —“*4A Midsummer Night's Dream.” Except the snowy owl, this is the lightest coloured of all our owls, and found in every part of Britain where there are ruins or cliffs suitable for it. This feathered friend of the farmer is well-named the barn owl, for it selects the out-of-way corners and holes of barns, ruins, and cliffs (not liable to interruption) for its nesting-places. It is essentially nocturnal, and lives chiefly on mice, as a sailor lives by the sea, or a swallow by the air. On the approach of twilight it may be seen gliding from its hiding-place, like a phantom, with a noiseless flight which 164 THE BARN OWL. belongs to the owls alone, enabling them in silence and darkness to pounce upon creatures liable to over-abundance, which also choose night to fulfil their mission on the ground below them. And as the screaming swift issues from ruins on the approach of gloaming—skimming through the air in search of flies—so may the barn owl be seen on the approach of twilight stealing over the meadows or stooky fields, searching stackyards, and, like a feathered cat, as noiselessly entering an outhouse or barn in search of its prolific prey. It often seizes a mouse in each foot amongst the labyrinth of stacks, then perches on the top of one of them to swallow them whole. When we consider that 150 mice have been killed by a terrier in one stack (the produce of two and a half acres) about three feet from the ground, where the first six or eight sheaves meet, and a peck of grain separated from the ears so gnawed as to resemble coarse meal, besides what is done in the fields and destruction to grass roots, one must see the great good this beautiful and useful bird does ; but which, like the kestrel, is so blindly shot down by the so-called keepers of game and killers of vermin. In connection with the present outcry about the mice plague in the Border Counties, R. Scot Skirving says, in the Scotsman of April 23rd, 1892— ‘“TIn view of the present plague, I trust it may result in opening the eyes of game preservers to the folly of killing all birds of prey—but especially those farmers’ friends, the kestrel and the owl. By the way, I am assured that it was 20,000, and not 1,000 owls, that were advertised for in London, in consequence of the rage for skins to deck (?) ladies’ hats. I conclude by saying it is impossible that any Commission can throw more light upon the subject than has been obtained during the last eighty years. I am glad to see farmers now think that even rooks are not merely birds which lead wholly evil lives.” Another writer says that even “ magpies destroy numbers of mice, swallowing them entire,” as he had ‘‘ frequently found them in the gizzard entire.” Thus we see ‘* There is a soul of goodness in things evil, For our bad neighbours make us early stirrers ; Thus do we gather honey from the weed, And make a moral of the devil himself.” But farmers are beginning to find out that even the persecuted mole, like the hedgehog, is a friend to them, by preying on mice, besides turning up the soil, which helps the — roots of the grass, one writer saying the only farmer he knew that made £78,000 off his farming paid mole-catchers for putting moles upon his fields.) Some authors say the barn owl rejects the shrews (Sor ex araneus.) Others have found shrews entire STRIX FLAMMEA. 165 in its stomach, and some counted no less than four shrews’ skulls at one time in it. It is inactive from sunrise to sunset, sitting nearly erect, with retracted neck and large eyelids closed (like a tired-out judge over a weary case) in some obscure nook or hole, sleeping (while others are hunting or basking in the sunshine), waiting till twilight enables its peculiar structure of eye and ear to see and hear objects distinctly. If surprised in the daytime it is as helpless as a startled pigeon at night, or a fish out of the water ; for, instead of flying away, it stares like a fool in drink, raises its feathers, hisses like a cat, snaps with its bill, and blinks with its large, black, lustrous eyes. And should it be driven from its haunt it is dazzled and bewildered—like a modest girl suddenly left alone in a crowded city, before woman assumed the airs and the duties of man. It flies with a hesitating flight, gladly seeking the shelter of some dark retreat. A barn owl seen during the day excites the rage of the smaller birds, which attack and tease it with impunity, chief of which is the bold little blue-tit and the lively chaffinch ; but, if imbecile by day, the barn owl assumes a very different character when darkness (which bewilders them) restores it to its proper element; when, with keen eye and noiseless wing, watching for prey it becomes activity itself—hence ‘‘The night to the owl and morn to the lark.” No doubt its harsh shriek (from which it derives its name) is apt to startle the lonely traveller if near “Some howlet-haunted biggin’,” as Burns has it, or as he wrote among the ruins of Lincluden Abbey— ** Where the hoolet mourns in her ivy bower, And tells the midnight moon her care.” Or as Sir Toby Belch says in ‘‘ Twelfth Night ”— ** Shall we rouse the night owl in a catch, that will draw three souls Out of one weaver? Shall we do that?” Without entering upon that egotistical and uncharitable feeling which made Macgillivray say—‘‘ If the belief of ghosts had not been extinct among the more enliyhtened—to which class I and my readers belong—I had taken that shriek for the cry of the beautiful, guilty, and deservedly miserable Queen Mary.” Be that as it may, I say with Hamlet ‘Give every man his deserts, who shall escape whipping?” The shriek of this owl at night, in lonely places where few persons enter without some feeling of awe, has given it a weird character, independent of any merely superstitious feeling; and this shrieking cry, unexpectedly heard in a kirkyaird, or among the ruins of some old monastery, 166 THE BARN OWL. castle, or cathedral, is apt to create an eerie feeling, when the shard-borne beetle with drowsy hum, and spectral bat on leathern wing, begin to flit about, and silence with darkness shrouds the earth ; ‘* While overhead,” as Wordsworth says, ** Roared the loud blast, and from the tower the owl Screan’d as the tempest shook her secret nest.” ** For thou know’st in the days of innocency Adam fell, So, what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villainy ?” The barn owl has been accused of snoring—like a toper in his sleep ; but this has been traced to the cry of its young for food. It was once common in St Andrews, whose monastic seclusion and general decay, after the Reformation, suited its own secluded habits. It had its nest in the gloomy ruins of Cardinal Beaton’s Castle, in the remnant cloisters and walls of Hepburn’s Abbey, and in the holes of the once magnificent cathedral, as well as in the high cliffs, called the “ scaurs,” between the castle and the ‘ Witch Lake.” When the cathedral debris was cleared out by the Exchequer in 1789, “the only thing of interest they found”—says a local historian—“ was a barn owl reposing under one of the stone coffins at the High Altar,” supposed to be that of the young Archbishop Alexander Stewart, who fell with his father at the fatal Battle of Flodden, when the nobility of Scotland “ were a’ wede awa’”’ as the “‘ Fiowers of the Forest.” And when Dr Johnson visited St Andrews in 1773 its gaunt ruins and grass-grown streets made him say: “‘ When the city of St Andrews lost its archi-episcopal pre-eminence it gradually decayed ; one of its streets is now lost (?), and in those that remain there is the silence and solitude of inactive indigence and gloomy depopulation ;” and the Rev. James Hall, in his “ Travels in Scotland” in 1807, also says: “The general aspect of the priory and other ancient monasteries, the cathedral church, the castle—the residence of the archbishops, and sometimes of kings —the streets grown over with grass and solid turf, and even the colleges, suggests nothing but the melancholy idea of former magnificence and grandeur, now in ruins ”—hence the better re- treat for the barn owl, which did not, however, in 1773, prevent the professors from giving surly Sam and Boswell, who accompanied him, “A superb treat to Dr Samuel Johnson.” Poor, unfortunate young “ Bob Fergusson” (the forerunner of — Burns), who was a student in the University at the time,* records it thus— * I saw his signature, in pencil, behind one of the shutters, before the old east wing was pulled down. > STRIX FLAMMEA. 167 “* St Andrews town may look right gawsy, Nae grass will grow upon her cawsey, Nor wa’flowers of a yellow dye Glour dowy o’er her ruins high, Sin’ Sammy’s head, weel pang’d wi lear, Has seen the Alma mater there. *Regents, my winsome billy boys ! *Bout him you’ve made an unco noise ; But, hear me, lads! gin I’d been there, How I wad trimm’d his bill o’ fare! For ne’er sic surly wight as he Had met wi’ sic respect frae me. Mind ye, what Sam, the lying loun ! Has in his dictionar laid doun ? ’ That aits in England are a feast To cow an’ horse, an’ siccan beast, While in Scots’ ground this growth is common To gust the gab o’ man and woman. Tak’ tent, ye Regents ! then, an’ hear My list o’ gudely hameil gear, Sic as ha’e often rax’d the wyme O’ blyther fallows mony time ; Mair hardy, souple, steive, an’ swank, Than ever stood on Sammy’s shank.” Then follows the list of oatmeal haggis, the sheep’s head, &e. (Boswell, in his “‘ Tour to the Hebrides,” records this “ superb feast” so genially “flyted” about by Fergusson—‘“ The Pro- fessors entertained us with a very good dinner, present— Murison, Shaw, Cook, Hill, Haddo, Watson, Flint, and Brown.” —Thursday, 19th August 1773). In 1839, when a boy, I got two young barn owls from a nest of four, taken out of a beam-hole in the south gable of the old castle, close to the window where Cardinal Beaton’s body was slung over to please the populace who clamoured “to see my Lord Cardinal” (who had just been murdered by Norman Leslie’s uncle and others). I kept them a long time. The lived upon all sorts of flesh, and swallowed mice and small birds entire. Since then I have seen both eggs and young taken by long ladders from the cliffs at the “scaurs.” I believe I saw the last that frequented these cliffs and ruins; it was shot about 1854. Two were shot the year before. In May 1863, when on a bird-nesting expedition with two of my boys, we came upon an old barn owl asleep on the margin of a little stream past the “Rock and Spindle” at Kinkell. We stood within six feet of it quite unconscious of our presence. I threw a stone, which awoke it. It opened its large eyes and stared so oddly at us that we could not help laughing at its grotesque look. At last * Professors were then called Regents. 168 THE BARN OWL. it flew noiselessly over the brae. But they have disappeared years ago, and are, so far as I know, not found in the vicinity of St Andrews. The nest is scantily formed of twigs and straw loosely arranged. They lay four, five, or six white eggs, 15 by 1} inches, a little less than the long and short eared species, and not so round. This is the handsomest and most beautiful of all our British owls. The general colour is hight reddish yellow, finely variegated with ash grey, each feather minutely undulated with darker grey, and marked near the tips with two white spots ; all the under parts pure white. The tarsi are not so full feathered, and one distinction is the toes are thinly covered with hairy feathers, and the iris is bluish black—unlike most of the owls’, which are yellow. The male is 14 inches long to tip of wings, which extend about an inch beyond the tail, and 35 inches across the wings; the female is 153 inches long and 38 in extent of wings. The plumage is soft and downy, having all the buoyant characteristics of the family in a marked degree. The wings * are long and broad ; but the tail is comparatively shorter than the rest of the owls’, being only 5 inches, against 6 or 7 —the best proof that its buoyancy is so perfect as scarcely to need the short, narrow tail to check its descent upon its agile prey. How very different from the swift, long-tailed, heavy falcons or hawks, who swoop or turn with the speed of the wind, requiring all the length and breadth of tail to check their headlong plunge, thus showing the perfection of Nature, and her distinction between the night and day birds of prey. The lightness of the one, compared to their feathery bulk, makes their flight not only buoyant, but almost unsteady in its very buoyancy, enabling them not only to fly noiselessly at a close height above their prey and steal unawares upon it, but to snatch it up almost without the use of a tail at all; while the heavier day birds of prey need a longer rudder to enable them to perform their more rapid flight and still more sudden deviations—wise ! wise! faultless designer !—convincing proof of the wisdom and broad perfection of the eternal source and soul of life. Mr Waterton, probably the best authority, as he almost domesticated the birds on his estate, says: ‘When it has young, it will bring a mouse to its nest every 12 or 15 minutes ; but to have a proper idea of the enormous quantity of mice this - bird destroys, we must examine the pellets which it ejects from its stomach in the place of its retreat. Every pellet contains from four to seven skeletons of mice. In sixteen months, from the time that the apartment of the owl on the old gateway was ee STRIX FLAMMEA. 169 cleaned out, there was a deposit of above a bushel of pellets.” Now, as the remains of eight or ten mice have been found in its stomach at one time in various stages of digestion—the bones, enveloped in the hair, being (as usual with all owls) ejected in pellets after the bird has retired to rest—the number of mice killed and swallowed entire must have been enormous, for it is surprising the quantity that can be squeezed into a sac two inches in diameter. He proves that it also preys upon fish, for he says: ‘Ona fine evening in July, long before it was dark, as 1 was standing on the bridge minuting the owl by my watch as she brought mice to her nest, on a sudden she dropped into the water. Thinking she had fallen down in epilepsy, I was going to fetch the boat, but before I got to the end of the bridge the owl rose out of the water with a fish in her claws, and took it to the nest.” He also says that owls have two broods in the year—at least, the barn and the short-eared owls, as he watched them on his estate. Mr Blyth,inthe Meld Naturalists’ Magazine, also states another interesting fact, which proves that owls do not lay in regular daily succession like most other birds, for he says: “A nest of barn owls contained two eggs, and when these were hatched, two more were laid, which latter were probably hatched by the warmth of the young birds. A third laying took place after the latter were hatched, and the nest at last contained six young owls of three different ages, which were all reared.” This shows that although the barn owl breeds like the rest of the tribe early, it seems in some cases to prolong incubation longer than other birds—all which I hail with pleasure, as bearing out my own observations that, while Nature moves in eternal order, there is no stereotyped rule in anything—not even in the tides and seasons—much less in the variations as shown in the making of birds’ nests, food, or incubation. But as regards the unwise interference with her universal laws, I was glad to read in the Parliamentary News to-day (April 27th, 1892), regarding “ the plague of field mice in Scotland,” that “Mr Channing asked the President of the Board of Agriculture whether his attention had been drawn to the increasing discontent among agriculturists in the south of Scotland as to the ‘mice plague,’ and to the urgent danger to sheep stock, owing to the serious deterioration of hill pasture, whether he should consider the resolutions passed at a meeting at Moffat on Saturday, 16th April, regretting the refusal of the Board of Agriculture to take action in the matter, and calling for a ‘more exhaustive and systematic inquiry ;’ or will introduce or support a Bill temporarily prohibiting the further destruction of birds of prey and vermin, which have usually been found to keep mice down ? “The President of the Board of Agriculture—Yes, my attention has been called again to the ravages of the mice plague in certain Counties in M ‘170 THE TAWNY HOOTING OWL. Scotland. I have received further communications from my hon. friends, the member for Lanarkshire (Mr Hozier), and the member for Kirkcud- brightshire (Mr Stewart), and from meetings of agriculturists in that part of Scotland. In deference to their representations, T have directed a further inquiry to be made. With regard to the Bill for the purpose of temporarily prohibiting the destruction of birds of prey and vermin, I apprehend that what is required is some remedy for the plague which will take immediate effect, whereas the operation of the Bill would be remote. I have no reason to believe, so far as presently informed, that the sudden appearance of the mice plague is due to the destruction of birds of prey and vermin, which has been going on for years. But if, on further inquiry, it is shown that a remedy can be supplied, either in that or any other direction, legislation will support or introduce any measure to be effectual for the purpose.” So here we see that, while I write this unassuming history of our feathered friends, the wholesale destruction of birds of prey —which has been going on for years—has at last been brought before our Imperial Parliament. In the interest of the farmers, we hope that further wholesale destruction of our birds of prey —called vermin, may be stopped ; and ** May he that will not wish for such a hope, Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day, If he arise, be mock’d and wondered at.” —Henry VI. THE TAWNY HooTiInc OWL or Ivy OWL. (Strix Aluco) or (Strix Stridula.) Linn. ( Ulula Stridula.) Mihi. ‘* Blythe ravens croak of death ; and, when the owl Tries his two voices for a favourite strain— Tu-whit, tu-whoo—the unsuspecting bird }orebodes mishap.” — Wordsworth. Next to the common long-eared owl and the barn owl, this is the most generally diffused of our indigenous owls—to be met with in all densely-wooded districts—preferring plantations which abound in firs and ivy, where it remains concealed during the day. It is more common in the Midland and Southern Counties of Scotland than the Northern. It is rare about St Andrews, although I have specimens in my collection got in the district, and have heard it in the old fir park on Tentsmuir. It is even more nocturnal than the barn owl; yet, according to | Yarrell, it preys on leverets, young rabbits, moles, rats, mice, birds, frogs, and insects, as well as occasionally on fish, like its white congener. Its wings are not so long, nor its flight so rapid and buoyant, as the barn owl’s, but quite as noiseless and ULULA STRIDULA. 171 ghost-like—hence it is not so well suited for beating a laige extent of fields for mice, and is more of a promiscuous feeder. The barn owls are more expert mousers than this owl, which so far accounts for its preying on young game when they come in its way. They sometimes enter dovecots (as the death’s-head moth enters bees’ scapes), and, like cats, commit great havoc among young pigeons. Mr Colquhoun says he recollects nearly all the young pigeons in his father’s dovecot “ being devoured by a pair of brown owls ;” but the good this owl does in its destruction of rats and mice far outweighs the ill. It is a little larger than the long-eared, short-eared, and barn owls. The one before me—a female, shot in the district—is 16 inches to end of tail, and 14 inches to end of wings, which, however broad and ample, do not reach to the tail by 2 inches. The tail is 7 inches long (against 5 in the barn owl’s), and 34 in extent of wings; the male about 2 inches less. The wings being 2 inches shorter than the tail—instead of two inches longer— makes this owl measure less across the wings than the other three ; and although its body is larger, it appears to be more so from the superabundance of downy feathers. ‘The tarsi also are shorter, but strong, which, as well as the toes, being covered with feathers and armed with long, sharp, curved claws, make them appear still stronger. The iris is dark blue, like the barn owl’s. The female is much redder than the male. The young, as usual with most birds, resemble the female till the second month. It is well named the tawny or brown owl, for its general colour is umber brown, mottled, barred, and spotted with brown, grey, and darker brown—all blended-—which is well expressed in the one word “tawny.” Its head is com- paratively larger than any of the owls (except Tengmalm’s.) It is 35 inches across the face. The facial discs and ruff are complete, but narrower over the eyes, which are also very large, as well as the mouth, which is 1# inches wide. It is well named the “hooting owl,” for it is very noisy at night, and easily known by its hooting cry, which is often alluded to by poets, and is the typical hooting owl, as the barn owl is the typical screech one ; and, probably, from Ovo-Oo-Ow the name of Owl was taken, as the generic name of Strix was taken from the screeching of the barn and other owls by Linneus. Its throat, when hooting, is much extended in its well-meant tribute to love or cheerfulness—as happy and sincere as is the song of the thrush or lark. All the owls more or less hoot or screech; and Linnzus was not far wrong when he 172 THE TAWNY HOOTING OWL. classed them all in the one genus Sériz, as screechers, which, as already said, Shakespeare bears out in saying— ** The bird of night did sit, Even at noon-day, upon the market place, Hooting and shrieking.” In ‘ Love’s Labour Lost,” he alludes to the hooting owl by making Winter sing— ‘* When blood is nipp’d, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, To-who ; Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth *keel the pot.” In a “ Midsummer Night’s Dream,” he also makes Titania, the fairy queen, say to her train — ** Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ; Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose beds ; Some, war with trear-mice for their leathern wings ; To make my small elves coats ; and some, keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders At our quaint spirits.” Wordsworth, too, in his “Idiot Boy,” alludes to this owl in March, when it hoots most, and tells a truth, as the sound comes from ‘nobody knows where”— * Tis eight o’clock—a clear March night— The moon is up, the sky is blue, The owlet, in the moonlight air, Shouts, from nobody knows where ; He lengthens out his lonely shout, Hallo! halloo! along halloo !” The too silent Gray, also, in his beautiful “ Elegy on a Church- yard,” says— ‘* Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wand’ring near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign.” And Burns, too, amid the ruins of Lincluden Abbey, as already said, pays tribute to this owl— ‘** As I stood by yon roofless tower, Where the wa’flower scents the dewy air, The howlet mourns in her ivy bower, And tells the midnight moon her care.” *Keel or scum the pot. + Rear-mice—Bats. ULULA STRIDULA. 175 And poor, misplaced Henry Kirke White, who died delirious at twenty-one, in his “Ode to Midnight,” also says— ‘* Meanwhile I tune, to some romantic lay, My flageolet ; and, as I pensive play, | The sweet notes echo o’er the mountain scene ; The traveller, late journeying o’er the moors, Hears them aghast—while the dull owl pours Her hollow screams each dreary pause between.” This hoo-hoo-hoo, Buffon says, ‘has a _ considerable resemblance to the cry of the wolf, which induced the Latins to give it the name of Ulula, from Ululare, to howl like a wolf.” Besides hooting, it sometimes utters a harsh scream, which, along with its eerie hoo-hoo-hoo, when heard at night in some lonely spot, creates a weird, uneasy feeling— ‘* A fearful apprehension from the owl Or death-watch,” which deepened into superstition—not yet dead—and which Wordsworth notes in his poem of the ‘‘ Waggoner”— ** Yon screech owl, says the sailor, turning Back to his former cause of mourning— Yon oul! pray God that all be well ! Tis worse than any funeral bell ; As sure as I’ve the gift of sight, We shall be meeting yhosts to-night.” This owl sometimes screeches like the barn owl. I have heard the long-eared owl hooting in dense fir woods very like it (possibly this owl itself). But, when heard in some dimly- lighted wood, the far away to-who, vo-00, of the owl, although eerie, is not unpleasing, at least to me, and is truly a ‘‘ shout,” as Wordsworth says, that ‘‘ comes from nobody knows where.” For, as Burns in his “ Ode to the Owl,” asks— ** Is beauty less, when down the glowing cheek Sad, piteous tears, in native sorrows fall ? Less kind the heart when anguish bids it break ? Less happy he who lists to pity’s call ? Ah, no, sad owl! nor is thy voice less sweet That sadness tunes it, and that grief is there ; That spring’s gay notes, unskill’d, thou can’st repeat, That sorrow bids thee to the gloom repair. From some old tower, thy melancholy dome, While the grey walls, and desert solitudes Return each note, responsive to the gloom, Of ivied coverts and surrounding woods. There, hooting, I will list more pleased to thee, Than ever lover to the nightingale.” Le ‘ 14 THE TAWNY HOOTING OWL. From some of my own trifling verses, I see I have felt a spark of the same pleasant feeling when listening to the owl— ‘* Tlove the lonely, cone-clad wood, Where birds sing ever true ; Where none but Nature doth intrude, To hear the owl’s hoo-hoo ;” for, as already said, ** The eerie hooting of the owl will please When heard within her lone retreat ; And even will the soughing of the trees, If heard in peace of mind, be sweet.” This owl has its scant nest in the holes of trees, amongst ivy, in an old carrion crow’s or a magpie’s nest, which, being covered, suits it ; sometimes in old buildings or rocks, like the barn owl, ~ and lays four or five white eggs, larger and even rounder than those of the long-eared, short-eared, or barn owl’s, being 131° by 137°, against 141° by 141°. They are hatched in April or early in May. The young are long in quitting the nest— perching near it, where they are fed by both of the old birds. But, as if to show that birds break all rules as to nesting, their eggs have been found in a rabbit’s burrow. CO: NOOP-: : | | LATIN SPECIFIC NAMES. Merops Apiaster Coracias Garrula Hirundo Rustica y, Urbica ah Riparia Cyupselus Murarius Caprimulgus Europeus Alcedo Ispida - Muscicapu Grisola SS ae ss Luctuosa — Lanius Exubitor 5, Collurio > mufus — Merula Viscivora » Pilaris = 5, Musica — » .taca - » Vulgaris » Lorquata Cinclus Aquaticus Oriolus Galbula Saxicola Ginanthe », Rubetra », Rubicola Erythaca Rubecula Phenicura Ruticlla — - Tithys a Swecicd Salicaria Locustella — > Phraymitis— > Arundinacea Philomela Luscinia — Curruca Atricapilla — a Hortensis vs Cinerea ‘8 Garrula Melizophilus Provincialis Sylvia Hippolais 5, Stbilatrix s, Lrochilus Regulus Auricapillus * The true 4th, the Trogonide, is awanting, having no British species. Wo WHO Nt es <<<<444485<' = E 2 2 < OV: OX, Div Fos Pa: PW, Peve E; POs Oi O.V. OO: | OMe if Pe Ns Wid dhtdmrntOon na Order. eee | wee INCESSORES, OR PERCHERS. SYNOPTICAL TABLE OF THE INCESSORES—Continued. Sub-Family. Genus. il pe eas 22 BRITISH SPECIFIC NAMES. Great Titmouse - Blue Tit —- - - Marsh Tit Cole Tit - - - Long-Tailed Tit - Crested Tit Bearded Tit - Hedge Accentor - Alpine Accentor - Pied Wagtail - - Grey Wagtail — - Yellow Wagtail - Rock, or Shore Pipit Meadow Pipit — = Tree Pipit ~ - Richard’s Pipit - - Bohemian Waxwing ~ Skylark - - - Wood-Lark ~ - Snow Bunting - - Lapland Snow Bunting Common Bunting - Yellow Bunting - Reed Bunting - - Cirl Bunting - -- Orlotan Bunting - House Sparrow — Tree Sparrow - - Chaffinch — - - Mountain Finch ~ Siskin — - - Goldfinch — - ~ Common Brown Linnet Mountain Linnet Lesser Redpole Linnet Hawfinch or Grosbeak { Greenfinch, or Green } \ Grosbeak - =f Common Crossbill - Parrot Crosshill - Pine Bullfinch -- ~ Common Bullfinch - Common Starling - Rose-Coloured Pastor Raven - - - Carrion Crow - - ...| Hooded Crow - - LATIN SPECIFIC NAMES. Parus Major - = Parus Coeruleus - » LPalustris = 3 wader — 77 5, Caudatus - », Cristatus - », Biarmicus = Accentor Modularis — i Alpinus — Motacilla Alba —- - a Boarula - He Flava — ~ Anthus Aquaticus - » Pratensis - » » Arborea - Plectrophanes Nivalis e5 Lapponica Emberiza Millaria — o3 . | Citrinelta’>. = » Scheniculus » Ctlrlus — - » Hortulana —- Passer Domesticus -— », Montanus = Fringilla Celebs = » Montifringilla Carduelis Spinus ~ as Elegans Linaria Cannabina - > Montana - » Minor - _ Coccothraustes Vulgaris “3 Chloris Loxia Curvirostra - » Lytiopsittacus — Pyrrhula Enucleator F Vulgaris*®* — Sturnus Vulgaris - Pastor Roseus - _ Corvus Corax —- - »» Corone —- = » Cornix - - * Another lovely vulgar bird—in Latin. S SSS" eajeg ee eectae ty SY ca Ra eae fea fan ee ha ae ea 183 Abbreviations. u On Oo ——$__—$—$—$—————— ————————— —— SSF 184 INCESSORES, OR PERCHERS. SyNOPTICAL TABLE OF THE INCESSORES—Continued. 4 > AS] e | BRITISH SPECIFIC NAMES. | LATIN SPECIFIC NAMES. 3 Mo a S wa oO Sjalala|s 4 Rook - ~ —- | Corvus Frugilequs - ie : _|..| Jackdaw —- - - » Monedula - if ila: _|38| Magpie -- - — | Pica Melanoleuca - ye | ..|... 30) Common Jay — — | Garrulus Glandarius iP |... |... 1... |40| Cornish Chough - | Fregilus Graculus - i |... | 41] Nuteracker - — | Nucifrara Caryocatactes| O.V. 2|...|42| Green Mae aoa - | Picus Viridis - _ I Great Black Wood-) ae oe { pecker ~ » Martius - - |0.V. Great pottec 4 | : | Woodpecker i » Major - c I. f Lesser Spotted 1 = . 4 --|--11 “Woodpecker | », imor E