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UC-NRLF

ONGSTERS

F^RITAIN

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t

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

The Birds of Song.

THE

SWEET SONGSTERS

OF
GREAT BRITAIN.

USEFUL HINTS FOR THE REARING AND MANAGEMENT
OF CAGE BIRDS.

BY H. G. ADAMS.

GALL AND INGLIS, 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE,

AND EDINBURGH.

K-QLG73

PREFACE.

TT has been our endeavour to produce an account of
one of the Feathered Families of Britain, written
in a style which would be likely to interest the young,
and yet claim the attention of those of maturer years and
riper judgment. We have thrown as much of the
picturesque into our sketches as possible, and drawn
largely upon those who have studied most closely the
habits of the creatures described, in their homes and
haunts. Of anecdotes, serving to illustrate traits of
character, the manners, and morals, so to speak, of the
members of the Bird-world around us, we have not been
sparing, taking care, however, to select such only as bore
the stamp of authenticity ; and from the poets we have
borrowed many sweet lyrics and graphic pictures, to set
in the framework of our sober prose, and thus enrich,
and lighten, and vivify the whole. We want our readers
to understand what kind of lives the feathered creatures
live, to study their habits, to love them, and to care for
them, as their Heavenly Father does.

We do not claim for ours the character of a scientific

M350816

6 PREFACE.

text-book, but of an entertaining, yet at the same time,
we hope, instructive companion for the lovers of nature,
and especially of

The beautiful birds, that sing in our ears

The songs that bring visions of earlier years ;

The blithe little songsters, that flit here and there.

Enjoying the sunshine without fear or care ;

The happy musicians, whose harmony flows,

Without any effort, like scent from the rose ;

As glad and entrancing, as fresh and as free,

As the breeze that sets dancing the leaves on the tree.

CONTENTS.

CHAP. PAOR

I. INTRODUCTORY ........ 9

II. WARBLERS: Nightingale 23

III. WARBLERS (continued} : Black-cap — Garden Warbler

Whitethroat and Lesser Whitethroat . . .37

IV. WARBLERS (continued): Wood Warbler — Willow Warb-

ler — Chiff-chaff and Dartford Warbler ... 49

V. WARBLERS (continued) : Savis and Grasshopper Warblers
— Golden-crested, fire-crested, and Dalmatian Ee-
gulus 63

VI. STONE-CHATS, HEDGE and ALPINE ACCENTORS : Whin-
chat — Black-headed Bushchat — Wheatear . .73

VII. EOBINS AND EEDSTARTS . . .83

VIII. WAGTAILS : 103

IX. CREEPERS : Wrens, Hoopoes, and Nuthatches . .111

X. THRUSHES: Song Thrush — Missel Thrush — White's

Thrush 129

XI. THRUSHES (continued) : Blackbird — Eing Ouzel —

Fieldfare and Eedwing . . . . .145

XII. LARKS AND PIPETS . . . . . . .165

XIII. LARKS AND PIPETS (continued) : Wood, Shore, and

Short-toed Larks — Meadow, Tree, Eock, and Eich-
ard'sPipets 181

XIV. BUNTINGS : Common, Yellow, Cirl, Ortolan, Snow, and

Lapland Buntings . . . . . . .195

XV. SPARROWS AND FINCHES: House and Tree Sparrows

— Chaffinch — Mountain Finch, and Hawfinch . 211

XVI. FINCHES: Bullfinch — Goldfinch — Siskin . . .233

XVII. LINNETS AND CROSSBILLS : Brown, Green, and Moun-
tain Linnets — Lesser and Mealy Eedpoles —
Common and Parrot Crossbills . 249

CONTENTS.

APPENDIX.

ON THE TREATMENT OF SONG BIRDS IN CONFINEMENT : The
Aviary — Inhabitant's of the Aviary. CAGES : The
Canary Cage — the Skylark's Cage — the Nightin-
gale's Cage — the Goldfinch's Cage — the Linnet's
Cage — the Blackbird's Cage — Breeding Cages —
Moulting Cages — Net Cages — a School Cage. BEAR-
ING OF YOUNG BIRDS. FOOD. DISEASES AND KE-

GENERAL DIRECTIONS .... 265

An Index will be found at the end of the volume.

BIRDS OF SONG.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTORY.

He sang of birds, the beautiful, the free,
The sportive creatures ; happy in their lives
Of sunshine and of shade — the birds that dwell
In woodland depths, and on the grassy lawn,
And where the sun and shade make playful strife,
And wild flowers hide within the bosky dell.

OF all the many objects which a beneficent God has
created, to adorn the earth, and minister to the wants and
pleasures of man, Birds, we think, may be considered as the
most beautiful and interesting. It is true that there is not
a single member of the great world of animated nature but
has in it much to excite our admiration and wonder : in its
internal structure — its outward adornments — its uses and
adaptations — we see such evident proofs of superhuman skill
and wisdom — such plain indications of benevolent design
— that we must be dull and insensible indeed if we do not
at once acknowledge that ' the Hand that made it ' is, in
truth, * divine.'

But it is by Birds especially that our faculties of observa-
tion, and our powers of reflection, are stimulated and called
into play. Everywhere, and every hour, we see and hear
them ; we cannot, if we would, help doing so : they flit
before us and around us, exhibiting the most exquisite

9

10 WHAT THE BIRDS TEACH.

grace of form and motion, and surpassing beauty of plumage :
they pour into our delighted ears songs of sweetest melody,
and are the most obvious, as they are among the most
welcome, of God's precious gifts to man.

And what a lesson of entire dependence upon a super-
intending Providence do the Birds teach us ! What assur-
ances of fatherly care and protection to every downcast and
desponding soul is there in the words of the Divine Teacher
— 4 Behold the fowls of the air, they sow not, neither do
they reap, nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father
feedeth them : are ye not much better than they ? '

All men of true piety have loved the Birds, and looked
upon them as manifestations of the wisdom and goodness
and fatherly care of the Almighty Creator : thus we read of
the great German reformer, Luther, that * with the birds of
his native country he had established a strict intimacy,
watching, smiling, and thus moralising over their habits : —
" That little fellow," he said of a bird going to roost, " has
chosen his shelter, and is quietly rocking himself to sleep,
without a care for to-morrow's lodging, calmly holding by
his little twig, and leaving God to think for him." ' And
the good English bishop, Jeremy Taylor, when he saw the
Skylark soaring heavenward, said that ' it did rise and sing
as if it had learned music and motion from an angel ; ' while
quaint old Izaak Walton, when he listened to the song of
the Nightingale, exclaimed, 'Lord, what music hast thou
provided for the saints in heaven, when thou givest bad
men such music on earth ! '

Birds, the free tenants of land, air, and ocean,
Their forms all symmetry, their motions grace,
"With wings that seem as they 'd a soul within them,
They bear their owners with such sweet enchantment.

Thus it is that James Montgomery describes the feathered
creatures, with whose exquisite beauty of form and free airi-
ness of motion our readers cannot fail to have been struck; but
few perhaps have considered what it is which enables them
to float so buoyantly upon the air — to skim the surface
of the water — to soar aloft until they become almost in-
visible, and sink again to earth, with so little apparent

VARIETY IN SIZE AND FORM. 11

effort : few have thought sufficiently of the fine silky
plumage which gives that richness as well as delicacy of
effect so remarkable in most birds ; of the complex and
yet simple steering apparatus, and nice machinery of bones
and muscles, and sinews and horny shafts, and webs, by
which the motions of the creature are rendered so facile
and truly graceful : of these we shall have to speak
more at length presently. Let us now say a few words
about the wonderful variety of size, and form, and habits,
which only a cursory study of ornithology opens to our
view. We behold the tiny Humming-bird, no bigger than
a humble-bee, hovering over a flower, and inserting its long
bill into the calyx in search of its sweet food ; we see the
lordly Eagle, with its spread wings, measuring perhaps eight
feet across, soaring far above the mountains, and darting
on its prey with a rush like that of an avalanche. The Os-
trich, ten or twelve feet high, stalks over the sandy desert, and
lays its eggs in a slight hollow to be hatched by the burning
sun. In the depths of the tropical forest dwell the bright-
hued birds of the Parrot family, and many others, bedecked
in plumes as glowing and various as the rainbow; and
about the northern isles congregate vast flocks of aquatic
birds, whose harsh notes seem a fit accompaniment to the
sound of the breakers among the rocks, and the whistling
of the winds around the heads of steep precipices. In our
own green woods we have feathered songsters mostly of
sober plumage, whose sweet melody amply compensates for
their want of gay attire. In all places and situations we
find Birds, beautiful Birds ! They brave the rigours of the
coldest climates, and the greatest heat of the tropics seems
only to heighten their beauty, and sense of enjoyment. In
anatomical structure they differ as greatly as they do in
their habits and modes of life, although in all these respects
there is, to a certain extent, a similarity between them ;
the differences being only such as are requisite for the per-
formance of the work which they have to do — for all are
workers — part of the industrial population of this our
universe. Theirs is a very busy life, and it would be well
for man if he performed the duties assigned to him with
as much zeal and energy as do the Birds. When Mary
Howitt sings —

12 PLUMAGE OF BIRDS.

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Flitting about from tree to tree —

she would by no means lead us to infer that the great
pleasure of this state of existence consisted in idleness. All
the work that the bird has to perform in the economy of na-
ture is to it at once a duty and a pleasure, which is ever fresh
and new, and therefore never cloys nor satiates, as human
pleasures too often do. Whether pursuing the gilded fly
or droning beetle through the air, or hunting among the
bushes and green crops for the caterpillar, or i tapping the
hollow beech tree,' and exploring the crevices for larvge, or
hunting amid the roots of the grass for wire and other worms,
or picking out the maggot from the bud, or in any other
way helping to keep under the vast swarms of insect life,
which but for the Birds would devour every green thing,
and render the earth a desert incapable of furnishing sus-
tenance for man ; — whether doing this, or building their
pretty nests and rearing their young broods, they always
appear to be, and doubtless are, in a state of supreme en-
joyment; they are at once working and playing, and are,
as our readers no doubt think, most enviable and happy
creatures.

We will now turn our attention, for a few minutes, to
that wherein consists so much of the beauty of birds — to
the plumage or feathers. And, first, let us endeavour to
answer the question — What is a feather ? Chemists tell
us that this, like hair, and wool, and the coverings of all
animals, is composed of sulphur, iron, carbonate and phos-
phate of lime, and an oil, in which is the colouring prin-
ciple. We need not trouble ourselves about the relative
proportions of these component parts, but just remark that
we have here earths and metals, such as go to form and
hold together the great globe on which we live, and which
minister most largely to the physical and intellectual wants
of mankind. Rough, and black, and unsightly, are these in
many of their forms and combinations, yet here we see them
floating aloft in the air, white as the driven snow, or re-
flecting all the colours of the rainbow. And then the
peculiar structure of the feather; how wonderful is it!

STRUCTURE OF FEATHERS. 13

how entirely adapted to answer its required purposes!
how light and buoyant, yet strong and firmly knit ! how
beautiful, and at the same time how useful — as a covering,
as an organ of flight, as a means of defence, as an orna-
mental adjunct — this last being not the least important,
either to the feathered creature itself, or to man, to whom
God has given the fine sense of appreciating and enjoying
that which is beautiful, and for whom He has provided a
dwelling-place full of beauties, a glorious universe, sur-
veying which, we may well exclaim with Milton : —

These are thy glorious works, parent of good !

Almighty, this Thy universal frame :

Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself, how wondrous then !

Unspeakable ; who sittest above the heavens

To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these Thy lowest works : yet these declare

Thy goodness beyond thought and power divine.

And not the least wonderful of God's works is the
feather of a common fowl, in which, it is true, we have
neither the bright hues, nor the fine silky filaments which
give such richness and grace to the plumage of many birds.
Yet, as the structure is essentially the same in all feathers,
it may well answer the purpose of enabling us to illustrate
this part of our subject. First, then, let us notice that we
have here the barrel, or quill, a semi-transparent tube,
pointed at the bottom, and closed above by a dry mem-
brane, which once connected it with the living bird, and,
extending up the interior of the quill, formed the medium
of growth and nourishment to the whole feather. We
have next the shaft, or stem, which is a continuation of the
quill, and, like it, is of a hard horny nature, differing from
it, however, in shape, not being cylindrical, but having
four sides, which become more and more distinctly defined
as the shaft tapers off with an inward inclination to the
terminal point. It is lined with a soil pulpy substance,
somewhat analogous to the pith in plants, which is white
and opaque, and which, like the membrane in the quill,
was no doubt absorbed from the body of the bird, and gave
out the principle of vitality to the webs, which are lateral,
or side prolongations of the outer layer of the coat of the

14 STRUCTURE OF FEATHERS.

shaft, into a series of filaments, generally placed opposite
to each other, and, being associated at the bases, forming a
stiff, yet elastic expansion. Springing out of these webs
on either side are what are called barbs, which seem to
hold them together, and enable them to resist the pressure
of the air upon the extended wing. From the upper
edges of the barbs, again shoot other filaments, still more
minute, which are called barbules, and these in turn are
again armed with barbacels, too small for other than mi-
croscopic examination. These barbs, and barbules, and
barbacels, are shaped like little hooks, and, growing out of,
embracing, and supporting each other, form a wonder-
fully complex, and yet in its action simple, piece of
machinery, and offering a beautiful picture of the unity
which ought to prevail in the social and political systems
of mankind. And all through nature, be it observed, do
we trace these mutual dependencies, this close interweaving
of the meshes of that golden net of love, which is cast by
the hand of God over everything which he has fashioned,
whether animate or inanimate.

How many lessons they may learn
Who to the book of nature turn,
And read, with love-instructed eyes,
The glories of the earth and skies.

And this feather, apparently so light and fragile, yet in
reality so strong and enduring, which we have been at-
tempting to describe, is but one of many hundreds, nay
thousands, which go to form the covering of a single little
bird ; that bird, one of a species ; that species, one of a
genus; that genus, one of a family, or order; and that again,
one of a class. How many birds are there in the universe ?
We cannot answer this question ; much less can we tell —
how many feathers ? Who makes them all, and orders
these nice arrangements, so that they shall best conduce to
the safety, the sustenance, the comfort, and the beauty, not
only of birds generally, but of the particular species of
bird which they at once clothe, protect, beautify, and bear
whithersoever its wants or its pleasures require ? But we
may be told, perhaps, that feathers grow, like to flowers,

HOW MARVELLOUS AND MYSTERIOUS. 15

and all created things, in accordance with certain ' laws of
nature/ instituted from the beginning. Well, be it so :
what then ? All the wonders which we see around us are
none the less marvellous and mysterious ; for what a Law-
giver must that be whose wisdom planned, and whose
power put into execution, those primary laws, by which
the planets roll on in their courses, through centuries of
centuries, and by which a feather is made precisely as it
was in the morn when Adam first listened to the song of the
newly-created bird ! Yes, if we have but attentive and
believing faculties ; if we

Go abroad rejoicing in the joy

Of beautiful and well-created things,

And love the voice of waters, and the sheen

Of silver fountains leaping to the sea ;

And thrill with the rich melody of birds,

Living their life of music ; and are glad

In the gay sunshine, reverent in the storm,

And find calm thoughts beneath the whispering tree ;

And see, and hear, and breathe the evidence

Of God's deep wisdom in the natural world —

we shall assuredly confess, with Cowper, that

In the vast and the minute we trace
The unambiguous footsteps of a God,
Who gives its lustre to the insect's wing,
And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds.

We have dwelt somewhat at length upon the construc-
tion of a single feather. If this be so wonderful, what
must the whole covering be of one of those l free tenants of
land, air and ocean,' that fill our ears with melody, our
hearts with thoughts of heaven, and our eyes with visions
of beauty ? The downy breast, so soft, and warm, and
smooth ; the glossy head and back, impervious to wet ; the
tail, that nice steering apparatus of the air navigator ; and
the wings, those exquisite pieces of machinery, with their
muscles and tendons, like cords and pulleys, to turn the
sails ; those light yet strong pinions, with their overlap-
ping lamince, formed to catch and hold the wind, and to
support in mid-air the free creature, which darts swiftly,

.16 LIGHTNESS AND BEAUTY OF FEATHERS.

or glides slowly, whithersoever the will directs, more like
an ethereal spirit than a bodily substance.

One of the most remarkable characteristics of a feather
is its lightness ; if we speak of anything which has little or
no weight, we say it is i as light as a feather.' In illustra-
tion of this quality, it may be just mentioned that the quill
of a Golden Eagle weighs only sixty-five grains, and seven
such do not weigh more than a copper penny-piece. The
feathers of a common Fowl weigh only about three ounces,
and the plumage of an Owl but one ounce and a half.
i Which weighs most, a pound of lead or a pound of feathers?'
is a question often put to puzzle children and thought-
less persons, who generally decide in favour of the lead, as
if the question had been which of the two materials has
the greatest weight in the smallest compass ? Great, in-
deed, is the difference in the bulk of a similar weight of
the ponderous metal and the light downy plumage, and no
less remarkable is it in appearance. Elegant and beautiful
are feathers in all their forms and adaptations ; often in
their hues most gorgeous, glittering with metallic lustre,
and reflecting the rays of the sun with a splendour and
brilliancy equalled only by that of the most precious gems,
with which they are often associated in the dress and deco-
rations of the mighty and the beautiful, whose pride has
been sometimes rebuked by a reference to the humble
creatures for whose pleasure and adornment God intended
them. Thus we read that Croesus, king of Lydia, who felt
presumptuously proud on account of his power and his
riches, had dressed himself one day in his utmost splendour
of apparel and regal ornament, and, seating himself on his
throne, exhibited his person to Solon, the Greek lawgiver,
as comprehending within itself the substance and sum of
worldly glory. * Have you ever beheld,7 said he to the
Grecian sage, ' a spectacle more august V i I have,' was
the answer ; * there is neither a pheasant in our fields, nor
a peacock in our court, nor a cock on our dunghill, that
does not surpass you in glory !'

In our own country we must not look for that richness
and diversity of colour, which makes the plumage of many
foreign birds so gorgeous and resplendent. True it is, we

POWER OF MELODY. 17

have both the birds to which the Greek philosopher referred
in his pointed rebuke of human vanity, but these are intro-
duced, and not native species, although we now reckon
them among British birds. True we have the Kingfisher,
that gemmed monarch of the streams; and the dapper
Goldfinch, with his gaily-brocaded suit, and some others,
which might take their place among the natives of tropical
climes ; but these are exceptions to the rule. The feathered
denizens of our woods and groves generally are sober-
suited, and not calculated to attract the eye, except, as
in many cases, by their elegance of form, and grace and
sprightliness of motion. But then, the music that is poured
forth from their tuneful throats ! How delightful is this !
Where shall we find sweet songsters so numerous and
diversified in their strains ? Where listen to such trills and
gushes of divinest melody ? Beauty of colour has a charm
for the eye, and divers tints and hues harmonised or con-
trasted, please and delight us ; for truly, as Keats has
sung,

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.

But the influence of sweet music is more powerful to reach
the soul, and wake the feelings and emotions which are
most deep, and holy, and tender; therefore we say — how-
ever much we may admire the glorious hues that bedeck
the Lory and the Parrakeet, and other richly-feathered
birds of tropical climes —

Give us the Blackbird, with its flute-like voice ;
Give us the Nightingale, that doth rejoice
To pour its plaintive cadences around,
When hushed by sleep is every other sound ;
Give us the Linnet and the soaring Lark ^
That sweetly singeth as he soareth — hark !
A song of gratitude he 's trilling now;
Give us the speckled Thrush, that on the bough
Of the late blooming elder sits to sing
A mellow strain — the summer's welcoming ;
Give us the friendly Robin Redbreast, though
He hath of melody no lengthened flow ;
The Wren ; and e'en the Sparrow, with his ' tweet/
Though short the note be, it is passing sweet.
B

18 SONG OF BIRDS.

Yea ! every bird, however sober-hued

His plumage be, pleaseth us more, endued

With a soft pleasant voice, for harmony,

Possesseth of man's stubborn heart the key,

And hath the power to ope it, and lay bare

All gentle thoughts and feelings hidden there.

Yet would we not despise these gorgeous things,

Nor wish them absent ; in man's wanderings

Through the wide world, variety he loves,

And not a shape that 's beautiful but proves

There is a watchful Providence that heeds

And ministers, not only to our needs,

But to our pleasures also. Let them play,

And scream, and chatter loudly as they may,

'Tis happiness to them ; each unto each,

Those tones are pleasing ; even as the speech

A lover poureth in his fond one's ear.

Therefore, although they may not be so dear

As the sweet warblers of our native isle,

Whene'er they cross your way, oh greet them with a smile !

What a wonderful power is that of song in birds ! To
see a Nightingale swell its throat, and pour forth a flood of
sweet melody ; to hear the little brown Lark, high up in
the sunshine, a mere speck —

Like a poet hidden

In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden,

Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.

One would indeed imagine, with Jeremy Taylor, that it
had * learned music and motion of an angel.' And yet the
blithe songster is conscious of no extraordinary effort.
Nature — or, we should rather say, the Great God, who
delights to make all things well — has so gifted the little
songster that he can < discourse most eloquent music ' with-
out ever having been taught how to do it, probably without
knowing that in giving utterance to the rapturous feelings
of his loving heart, he is filling the skies and the groves
with melody, delighting the soul of man, and chasing away
a world of care from his anxious and troubled mind.
Wonderful, we say again, truly wonderful is this power
of song for which British birds, above all others, are

ACCORDANCE WITH SCENE. 19

celebrated. Who could imagine that, by such simple
machinery, such dulcet sounds could be produced? — a
cartilaginous tube, with valves and air-passages, and a few
muscles to contract or expand the one, and open or close
the other. This is all, and listen to the result !

There has always appeared to us a peculiar fitness in the
strains poured forth by the feathered songsters to the sea-
sons in which they sing, and the places which they frequent,
and we quite coincide with Ruegg, who says : —

The voices of the birds appear to have a special adaptation to
their localities and habits. Almost all the birds that haunt our
coasts, with the exception of the Antidce, or Ducks, have a low me-
lancholy wail, clear and melodious, but still wild, that appears to me
to be admirably in keeping with the loneliness of the spots they
inhabit. Before us lies the wide waste of waters, with here and
there a heavy lagging sail, which seems to mock the very idea of life
and bustle ; around us spreads an unbroken extent of low, marshy
land, where no trees rear their heads, and where rush and sanfoin
alone may grow. How beautiful, in unison with such a scene, is the
clear shrill whistle of the Curlew and Plover, and the wild hoarse
voice of the Gull ! It makes sadness pleasingly sad, and desolation
more desolate, to listen to such sounds amidst such scenery. Who
would like to hear them in the neighbourhood of his dwelling ? for
which the busy chirp of the Sparrows, the twittering of the Swallows,
and the loud clear accents of the Chanticleer, are so well attuned.
Copse and woodland, covert, hedgerows, and orchard, seem made
purposely for the clear music of the Mavis and Merle. With what
clear accents pour forth these gladsome notes from every dale and
dingle ; and how harmoniously they rush through apple blossoms,
and May flowers, and sweet-smelling plants. They render rusticity
more rustic, and are the most glorious paeans that could be sung at
the revels of luxuriant nature. Birds do not sing in winter amidst
the gloom and mist and thick-pelting snow, but reserve their songs
for spring and summer, nature's fairest and rosiest holidays. Where
shall the Skylark find a freer temple for his rich morning song than the
blue firmament, with azure above him and emerald shades beneath, and
the bright sunbeams sparkling on every plume ? Or what other shall
the Nightingale choose for her clear orisons than the witching hour
of eve, when the earth and all its creatures are hushed into a willing
auditory ? Surely the Plover was made for solitude, and the Mavis
for glad retirement, and the Fowl for the barn-door ; the Skylark for
mid-heaven, and the Nightingale for the dewy eve.

A few remarks on the vocal organs of birds cannot be
out of place here. Macgillivray, who has entered very fully

20 VOCAL MACHINERY.

into their anatomical structure, describes the trachea as an
elastic tube, extremely flexible and contractile, covered
with layers of cellular tissue, and accommodating itself to
all the motions of the neck. It commences behind the
tongue, extending to opposite the first rib, where at the
syrinx, as it is called, or lower larynx, it divides into two
bronchii or branches. In man and in quadrupeds, the
parts are proportionably larger and more complex ; the
voice, with all its varieties of tone, being produced by the
muscles and cords of the larynx ; while in birds it is pro-
duced at the lower extremity of the syrinx, or windpipe,
and modulated into notes by the contraction and extension
of the larynx. In the human larynx, the vocal chords,
which vibrate under the impulse of the air, and thus
produce wind, are placed in the larynx; but in birds
there are no traces of them there, the vibrating membrane
being placed in the syrinx, or lower larynx. Such is the
apparatus by which the voice of birds is attuned. The
air contained in the lungs and air cells, passing through
the bronchii, causes the vocal membranes at the anterior
extremity to vibrate, and thus produce sound, which is
rendered grave or acute by the relaxation or tension of the
parts ; and the stream of air thus thrown into vibration
is divided, narrowed, or suffered to pass free, by the
muscles of the larynx. i The modification of these organs
presented by the different species,' says the naturalist,
'are slight, the parts in all I have examined being the
same, and each the same number of muscles. The peculiar
song of different species must therefore depend on circum-
stances beyond our cognition. For surely no one could
imagine the reason that the Kook and the Hooded Crow
require as complex an apparatus to produce their unmusical
cries, as that which the Blackbird and Nightingale employ
in modulating their voices, so as to give rise to those
melodies which are so delightful to us ; and yet the knife,
the needle, and the lens do not enable us to detect any
superior organisation in the Warbler over the Crow.'

This is another of those mysteries which constantly
puzzle and perplex the natural philosopher ; like the diver-
sities in the forms and habits of every creature, like the

A DIVINE REVELATION. 21

varieties in the forms of vegetable growth, in the colours
and perfumes of flowers, and a hundred other of the phe-
nomena of nature, we can only ascribe them to the power
and wisdom of the Creator, and, above all, to his goodness,
in so varying the objects which minister to our rational
pleasures and enjoyments, that there need be no weariness,
nor sense of satiety. Eespecting this particular source of
pleasure to which we are now more especially alluding, the
naturalist Kirby has well said : — i Of all the endowments
of birds, none is more striking, and ministers more to the
pleasure and delight of man, than their varied song. When
the time of the singing birds is come, and the voice of the turtle
is heard in our land, who can be dead to the goodness which
has provided for all such an untaught orchestra, tuning the
soul not only to joy, but to mutual goodwill; reviving all
the best and kindliest feelings of our nature ; and calming,
at least for a time, those that harmonise less with the scene
before us.7

One can scarcely wonder that the North American In-
dians, as we are told they do, should consider birds to be
in some way particularly connected with the invisible world
of spirits, from their beauty of form and plumage, sweet-
ness of song, and aerial movements. The red man of the
West sees in the * Wakon Bird,' as he terms it, a symbol
and a representative of the Great Spirits whom he worships
with reverential awe, and in this traditionary belief we
catch, as it were, a faint glimpse of a great Christian reve-
lation. He marks the free-winged creature, of form and
motion indeed like an angel, gloriously apparelled, cleaving
the air as though on a mission of mercy and love. We,
instructed by the clearer light of the Gospel, behold the
Holy Spirit descending like a dove, and indicating the pre-
sence and the mission of our blessed Lord and Kedeemer.
The rainbow is to the Indian the track which the winged
messenger of the Great Father leaves in his flight ; and if

The poor Indian, with untutored mind,

Sees God in clouds, and hears Him in the wind —

hears Him alike in the gentle breezes which whisper amid
the trees of his native forests, in the roaring of that sea of

22 LINES BY THOMPSON.

fire which sometimes sweeps across the boundless prairie,
and the crash of the thunderbolt which rends the pine-tree
into fragments — and sees His messengers in the beautiful
birds which flit around him — shall not we, who have a
clearer light and a purer faith, also be ever-conscious of
His presence, and look upon the birds, as upon all beautiful
and well-created things, as evidences of His wisdom and
goodness ?

A modern poet — C. W. Thompson — has well told us, in
these lines, what the teaching of these birds should be : —

Ye birds, that fly through the fields of air,
What lessons of wisdom and truth ye bear !
Ye would teach our souls from the earth to rise ;
Ye would bid us all groveling scenes despise ;
Ye would tell us that all its pursuits are vain,
That pleasure is toil, ambition is pain —
That its bliss is touched with a poisoning leaven ;
Ye would teach us to fix our aim in heaven.

Beautiful birds of lightsome wing,

Bright creatures that come with the voice of spring,

We see you arrayed in the hues of the morn,

Yet ye deem not of pride and ye wist not of scorn ;

Though rainbow splendour around you glows,

Ye vaunt not the beauty which nature bestows.

Oh, what a lesson for glory are ye !

How ye preach the grace of humility !

Swift birds, that skim o'er the stormy deep,
Who steadily onward your journey keep ;
Who neither for rest nor for slumber stay,
But press still forward, by night or day,
As in your unwearying course ye fly
Beneath the clear and unclouded sky ;
Oh, may we, without delay, like you,
The path of duty and right pursue !

Sweet birds, that breathe the spirit of song,
And surround heaven's gate in melodious throng ;
Who rise with the earliest beams of day,
Your morning tribute of thanks to pay,
You remind us that we should likewise raise
The voice of devotion and song of praise ;
There 's something about you that points on high,
Ye beautiful tenants of earth and sky !

THE NIGHTINGALE.

CHAPTER II.

WARBLERS. — NIGHTINGALE .

] NDER the scientific term Sylviadce, or "Warblers, are
U grouped a number of birds remarkable for the sweet-
ness of their song. They are of slender form and delicate
constitution, not being able to bear much cold. Hence in
all northern climates where they are found, it is as summer
visitants only. They feed, too, almost entirely on insects,
being what are called soft-billed birds, unable to crack
nuts, or the shells of molluscous animals ; another reason,
some think the principal one, why, at the approach of
severe weather, when insect food naturally becomes scarce,
they seek a warmer climate, where it is more plentiful.
With some naturalists the genus Sylvia includes more birds
than with others. Sweet, for instance, who has given the
best account of these delightful songsters which we pos-
sess, especially as regards their musical powers and treat-
ment in confinement *, takes in the Chats and Redstarts ;

* This account is incorporated by Mr. Bohn in his edition of Bech-
stein's * History of Cage and Chamber Birds,' the most full and
complete work on the Breeding, Management, &c., of Feathered Pets
which the press of this country has produced.

24 THE NIGHTINGALE.

and Yarrell, in his Sylviadce, has also the Kobin, agreeing
in this arrangement with Flemming, Jenyns, and some
other British naturalists. The British species of Warblers
are somewhat numerous ; two of them are exceptions to
the rule, and do not migrate southward on the approach of
winter. All of them are birds of sober plumage, and shy,
hiding habits, searching for their food chiefly under trees
and bushes, and sometimes coming to the ground for the
purpose ; they are fond of soft, pulpy fruits, only occasion-
ally eating the smaller kinds of seeds, the husks of which are
not difficult to crack ; they build neat nests (generally of
a cup shape), lay five or six eggs, and commonly rear two
broods in a season. They do not migrate in large flocks,
like the Swallows, but in small bodies, the males preceding
the females several days ; they have a rapid, protracted,
but more undulated flight than the birds last named.

We are astonished when we Deflect on the immense dis-
tances which these apparently feeble birds must traverse
in their migrations from country to country, notwithstand-
ing all that we know of the lightness of their structure
(the bones being porous, and partly filled with air), and of
the strength of the pectoral and other muscles by which
the flying apparatus is moved. How many thousands of
times must those little wings winnow the air, traversing a
broad ocean, and passing, as the birds often do, far in-
land to their places of repose. And how know these
feathered barks in what direction to steer for the land
of sunshine and plenty, towards which they are impelled ?
Surely there is a Providence that watches over the life of
the bird, and if so, shall man despond, and think himself
uncared for, when a Divine Teacher has told him, in refer-
ence to the birds, < Are ye not much better than they ? '

THE NIGHTINGALE (Philomela lusdnia). — This bird,
which is placed by common consent at the head of British,
if not of all feathered songsters, is very plain in its plumage,
which is reddish brown on the upper parts, greyish brown
on the under, except the throat and belly, which are
whitish. The plumage is, however, prettily marked and
mottled, and the form is most elegant. In length it is

AUDUBON ON THE NIGHTINGALE. 25

about six inches and three quarters ; the head is ovate, of
a good proportionate size, the body slender, the tail long ;
altogether a slim, genteel bird, of graceful motions and
retired habits, having all the marks of high breeding, as
we should say : and then, what a songster !

In this country the Brake Nightingale, as it is frequently
called, generally arrives somewhere about the middle of
April ; it is first observed in the south, from whence it
disperses itself over the whole of the southern and eastern
counties, being found, however, only in particular localities;
it does not appear to have been observed farther north
than Carlisle ; Macgillivray says, i although supposed to
have been heard in Scotland, it has never been obtained
there,' and there is great reason to doubt whether it has
really been heard there. In England we are not left long
in doubt as to the bird's arrival, for very soon from the
roadside plantation or copse, yet bare of leaves, comes that
gush of rich melody, which is so unmistakable, and about
which Audubon writes so enthusiastically :

"With all the anxious enthusiasm of youth I resolved to judge
for myself of the powers of song in birds, and to begin by studying
first those of the Nightingale, the very bird which had attracted my
regard in its plain brown garb and most modest mien. The part
of France in which I then was proved, as I thought, remarkably
well adapted for this purpose. Kambling occasionally between
Bheims and the capital, during the genial season at which this dis-
tinguished songster appears there in considerable numbers, and
keeping away from the main roads, I would seek all such byeways
as were deeply cut beneath the surface of the country around, and
especially such as were well supplied with tall and well-set hedge-
rows, in the neighbourhood of orchards, and almost close to the
cottages of the humble tillers of the soil. In solitudes like these I
was sure to meet with Philomel. Now, perched scarcely ten or
fifteen feet from the ground, on some branch of a thicket, I have
watched it on its first appearance, in the beginning of April, as
for several days the males which I observed exhibited an appear-
ance of lassitude and melancholy almost painful to me. Silent, still,
and in a position almost erect, the Nightingale would stand, as if
in a state of stupefaction, for more than an hour at a time, or
until, pricked by hunger, it would fly to the ground, hop over it in a
direct line, and, meeting with an insect, would seize it precisely in
the manner of a Thrush. By this, reader, I would have you un-

26 AUDUBON ON THE NIGHTINGALE.

derstand that, after having spied its prey, the bird stopped for an
instant, quickly bent its legs, lowered its head without changing, as
it were, the general position of its body, then took up the insect,
and swallowed it at once, looked around, and flew to the very
twig which it had a few moments previously left. On all such occa-
sions, during those few days of lassitude, and, indeed, at almost all
other periods of the stay of this species in France, the least atten-
tive observer will see, that on its alighting on a branch to rest, a cer-
tain tremulous action of the wings takes place, whether those
members droop or are in their ordinary position. After three or
four days the birds evidently became more circumspect or shy, while
a corresponding improvement took place in their aspect. .Their
motions, though not quick at any time, always seemed to me to par-
take of more elegance, as if produced by the knowledge that the
arrival of their partners, and the season of song and love, were at
hand. An attentiveness to the notes of all the passing birds about
them, I thought, was very perceptible ; and when it propitiously
happened that one of them was produced by a female Nightingale,
the males would simultaneously fly with speed to the spot, and at
once seek for the fair one, which, by the way, I should say, arrived
singly, and in the same manner as the male had done some days
previously. I, moreover, discovered that this species travels alto^
gether under night, and, I believe, singly ; because, on seeing these
birds alight about daybreak, I never observed more than one
at a time, although, on several occasions, I have seen one, two, or
even three, come towards the ground within the lapse of half an
hour or so, one coming after the other at the distance, as I should
conceive, of from eight to sixteen miles. I am also pretty well satis-
fied, that in this species, as in many others, the older males and
older females reach their destinations first, after which the others
according to their respective strength of body.

The arrival of the Nightingale in the portions of the country of
which I speak, varies by a full fortnight, according to the tem-
perature of the season, as I have observed some of them on the
25th of March, and in other seasons not before the 5th or 10th of
April. The male generally precedes the female by a few days, and
the first sight of the female appears to bring forth its musical
powers. During the whole period of incubation the males are in
full song, and I have heard these birds sing until within a few days
of their departure about the middle of August. But this may pos-
sibly have been overlooked by students of nature, who having heard
the song of the Nightingale, at a very early period, were not aware
that at the same moment the bird had already formed a nest, and
its mate was snugly incubating.

Dr. Latham states, that, as is usual with the migratory
Warblers, the male remains on the spot to which it first

NIGHTINGALE'S SONG. 27

resorts, attracting the female by its song ; and if by accident
the female is killed, the male becomes silent for a while,
resumes its song, and will continue to sing late in the
autumn, till he finds another mate, in which case they
will breed at a later season. But we must now let Mac-
gillivray speak apropos of the strain of this acknowledged
queen of feathered songsters —

For some days after the first arrival of the Nightingales, the
birdcatchers are on the alert, as it has been found that the males
which are caught before they have mated, thrive better in captivity
than those obtained after the females have made their appearance.
If the weather be not unfavourable, the males begin to sing pre-
sently after their selection of a locality. They continue in full song,
however, only until the young are hatched ; but it has been re-
marked, that when the female has been killed, or the young removed,
the male will commence his song again, and continue it until he has
obtained another mate. Although the sweet strains of the Nightin-
gale may be heard at intervals through the day, they excite more
admiration when listened to in the quiet evenings, during which
they are protracted to a later hour than those of any other songster,
excepting the Sedge Warbler. Most authors profess to be in raptures
when describing the song of this far-famed bird ; but some would
detract from its alleged merits, and consider it in some respects in-
ferior to the * Mavis and Merle.' My acquaintance with this species,
however, is so slight, and my capability of appreciating musical
talent so feeble, that I am obliged to refer to the report on this sub-
ject of a gentleman who seems to me to possess the qualifications
wanting in myself. Mr. Wood, in his ' British Song Birds,' gives
the following account of it : — ' The strains are loud, rich, mellow,
silvery, and clear ; and so far from being a miserabile carmen, as sung
by Virgil and other classic poets, I know few songs which are its
equal in sprightliness and vivacity, with the exception, however, of
one part, consisting of three or four lengthened notes, beginning
\&cy piano, and gradually rising to crescendo and forte, which are
certainly of a peculiarly melancholy character. The song of this
bird does not equal that of the Garden Ouzel in mellowness, nor that
of the Garden Thrush in loudness ; but it certainly excels all others
as a whole ; at least all other British birds.'

Izaak Walton's eulogy is more flattering : —

The Nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet
music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make man-
kind to think that miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight,
when the very labourer sleeps so securely, should hear, as I have

28 MIRTHFUL OR MELANCHOLY.

very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and
falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be
lifted above earth, and say, * Lord, what music hast thou provided
for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on
earth ? '

We scarcely dare trust ourselves to speak of the poetical
associations connected with this bird, the name of which,
according to Pennant, is derived from two Saxon words,
signifying night and to sing. Now, although there can be
no doubt that 4 this shade-loving Philomela,' is a day as
well as a night songster, yet it must be confessed that it
is principally during the latter season that it is heard to the
greatest advantage ; this is most likely owing to the mind of
the hearer being at that solemn and silent season more
open and alive to the influence of sweet sounds. Then,
according to Milton,

Is the pleasant time,

The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
To the night warbling bird, that now awake
Tunes sweetest his love-laboured song.

On the question of whether the strain of the Nightingale
is really of a sad and depressing, or a joyous and inspiriting
tendency, much has been said. The author last-mentioned
speaks of it as a

Most musical, most melancholy bird.

And we think that the majority of poets agree in giving to
its song a passionate and pathetic character ; by those of
antiquity, more especially, were its utterances supposed to
be those of sorrow and complaint; thus Homer in the
4 Odyssey ' says, —

So sweet the tawny Nightingale,
When spring's approaching steps prevail,
Deep in leafy shades complains,
Trilling her thick- warbled strains.

And Hesiod, following what appears to have been the
generally received impression, places her in the pounce of
a hawk : —

WHAT THE OLD POETS SAY. 29

'Twas when the hawk, marauder fell,
Bore off the dappled Philomel,
On his crooked claws impaled,
Piteously the poor bird wailed.

By Eschylus and Sophocles, and the tender and plaintive
Euripides — himself the very Nightingale of attic trage-
dians— as with Moschus, and the other bucolic poets,
there is this prevailing sentiment expressed ; nor must we
except even the satirists and comic writers of Greece, as
might be shown by quotations, did our space permit ; a
line or two from Aristophanes we must give, and it shall
be Gary's admirable rendering, —

0 come, my mate ; break off thy slumbers,
And round thee fling thy plaintive numbers,
In a most melodious hymn,
Warbled from thy brown throat dim.

The Latin imitators of these old masters of the classic
lyre might also be cited to show how with them, too, the
Nightingale was generally considered a sorrowful and com-
plaining bird ; for although Virgil speaks of it as * piping
beneath the poplar shade ' in careless joyance, yet most of
them who do make an allusion to it, feign, with Ovid, to
behold in this feathered songster the transformed Philomela,
daughter of Pandion, King of Athens ; cruelly misused,
and deprived of her sweet organ of speech — her silver
tongue — by Tereus, King of Thrace, her sister's hus-
band, she was changed by the pitying gods — so runs the
fable — into

The sweet and plaintive Sappho of the dell,

as Thomas Hood calls it, very appropriately likening the
bird to the most passionate and tender of female poets.
This is the ' luckless bird,' as Horace calls it ; the < sad,'
the ' complaining,' the * love-lorn,' the ' plaintive,' the
* grief-stricken ' — Philomela of Sidney, and Dray ton, and
Drummond, and Browne, and Fletcher, and many other of
our early pastoral and dramatic poets, as well as some of
later times, who, like Pollok, make sorrow still the burden
of its song : —

30 LOCALITIES FOR BUILDING.

Minstrel of sorrow ! native of the dark !

Shrub-loving Philomel, that wooed the dews,

At midnight from their starry beds, and charmed

Held them around thy song till dawn awoke ;

Sad bird, pour through the gloom thy weeping song,

Pour all thy dying melody of grief,

And with the turtle spread the wave of woe.

But for our own part, we are more inclined to agree with
Coleridge, and say that it is

the merry Nightingale,

That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates,
With fast, thick warble, his delicious notes,
As he were fearful that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter forth
His love-chaunt, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music.

The localities most usually chosen by the Nightingale
are woods having thick undergrowths, low coppices, plan-
tations, and hedgerows ; low damp meadows near streams
are much frequented by it. The English counties which
the bird most favours are Kent, Surrey, Middlesex, and
Hampshire, because it finds there woods, groves, brakes,
shrubberies, copses, and thickets, not far from streams,
brooks, and springs, where insect life abounds. Next to
the above counties are Berks, Essex, Cambridgeshire, Herts,
and Sussex ; in some other counties the music of the
Nightingale is heard now and then as a great rarity ;
thus we find it recorded in 1855 as a memorable event
that l One was heard in Yorkshire, when hundreds of
persons went nightly to hear its song, which was so en-
chanting that numbers walked the footpaths and fields the
whole of the night, and as early as three o'clock in the morn-
ing warm beds were forsaken by hundreds of married and
single, old maids and bachelors, to go to hear the Nightin-
gale. At last the visitors became so numerous, and the
damage so great to the crops and fences by being trampled
and broken down, that it was found necessary to snare
the bird.'

Let us hope that the music in this case was more real
than that which deceived the good people of Shrewsbury

THE NIGHTINGALE AT HOME. 31

a while since. * For several nights lately,' says a local
paper, 4 the Quarry Walk here was crowded with delighted
listeners to a supposed Nightingale, which was eventually
discovered to be a young sweep with a bird-catcher's
whistle ! '

With us this bird is rather chary of its music in a state
of captivity, but it does not appear to be so with the
Eussians, if we may judge by what is said by a traveller
of Moscow. ' In this city the Nightingales sing in every
respect as beautifully in cages as in their native woods.
In the bird- shops they are heard warbling with all the
fullness and variety of tone which characterises the
Nightingale in its natural state. By rattling beads upon
their tables of tangible arithmetic, the Eussian can
make these birds sing at pleasure during the day ; but at
night they make the streets of the city resound with the
melodies of the forest.'

Notwithstanding the habitual shyness of Nightingales,
they sometimes build in very public situations : thus
we are told that a pair of these birds took up their
residence in the Surrey Zoological Gardens, where, un-
disturbed by the music or the firing on the nights of the
grand pyrotechnic display, they continued to warble their
delicious melody early and late.

The old dramatist, Nicholas Eowe, gives us this pretty
picture of the Nightingale at home :

So when the spring renews the flowery field,
And warns the pregnant Nightingale to build,
She seeks the softest shelter of the wood,
Where she may trust her little tuneful brood — •
Where no rude swains her shady cell may know,
Nor serpents climb, nor blasting winds may blow.
Fond of the chosen place, she views it o'er,
Sits there, and wanders through the grove no more,
Warbling she charms it each returning night,
And loves it with a mother's fond delight.

Alas ! that this delight should be at times turned to
sorrow by the spoliation of her nest ; that the home of
peace and love, and outgushing song, should be ren-
dered desolate : yet so it is. The country boys consider

32 GRAHAME'S DESCRIPTION.

Nightingales' eggs and the young birds rich prizes, although,
the latter can very seldom be reared and reconciled to
confinement. The only chance of this is to get a male
bird, taken directly it arrives in this country, and before
it has paired. For these the bird-catchers are always on the
look-out, and the numerous captures which they effect
must necessarily disturb the balance of the sexes, and
diminish the number of these sweet songsters. We could
almost wish for a despotic government to issue an ordi-
nance similar to that promulgated in the Ehenish pro-
vinces a few years since, forbidding the catching of
Nightingales under a penalty.

As a companion picture to Rowe's we give the fol-
lowing more elaborate one by Grahame : —

Up this green woodland path we '11 softly rove,

And list the Nightingale ; she dwelleth here.

Hush ! let the wood-gate gently close, for fear

Its noise might scare her from her home of love.

Here I have heard her sing for many a year,

At noon and eve — ay, all the livelong day,

As though she lived on song. — In this same spot,

Just where the old-man's-beard all wildly trails

Its tresses o'er the track and stops the way, —

And where that child the fox-glove flowers hath got,

Laughing and creeping through the moss-grown rails, —

Oft have I hunted, like a truant boy,

Creeping through thorny brakes with eager joy,

To find her nest and see her feed her young :

And where those crimpled ferns grow rank among

The hazel boughs, I 've nestled down full oft,

To watch her warbling on some spray aloft,

With wings all quivering in her ecstasy,

And feathers ruffling up in transport high,

And bill wide open — to relieve her heart

Of its out-sobbing song ! — But with a start,

If I but stirred a branch, she stopt at once,

And, flying off swift as the eye can glance,

In leafy distance hid, to sing again.

Anon, from bosom of that green retreat,

Her song anew in silvery stream would gush,

With jug-jug-jug and quavered trilling sweet ;

Till, roused to emulate the enchanting strain,

From hawthorn spray piped loud the merry Thrush

Her wild bravura through the woodlands wide.

NESTS, EGGS, AND FOOD. 33

About a week after the arrival of the female birds, says
Audubon, the male Nightingales first seen are mated, and
a spot has been chosen for the nest. The situations of
their choice are generally in the interior of close thickets,
but not unfrequently also at the roots of the thick- sets
of hedge-rows. The colour of the materials employed
in the composition of the nest, and even that of the eggs,
is in accordance with the dull reddish-brown garb of the
bird itself. The whole of this fabric may be said to be of
a rather rude construction, it being large, loosely put to-
gether externally, and scantily lined. The outer layer is
usually composed of the dried leaves of various trees of
the previous season, extending at times in a loose manner
to the distance of several inches from the proper nest.
The latter is cup-shaped, with its cavity about four inches
in breadth, and nearly as much in depth, formed of dry
fibrous roots of small size, now and then interwoven with
a few loose leaves. The eggs are from four to six, rather
large for the bird, three quarters of an inch in length,
seven twelfths in breadth, and of a pale brownish colour.
The parent birds incubate alternately, although the female
spends more time on the eggs than the male. Young
Nightingales, like most young birds of their tribe, are at
first fed on macerated substances, for eight or ten days,
after which they receive small larvae, worms, and insects.

Sweet says that the food of this bird consists entirely of
insects of various sorts, but it prefers the eggs of the ant
to any other. It is also very fond of the larvae of wasps
and hornets. Without such food, it is almost impossible
to keep it alive in confinement. Chopped or shredded raw
meat is the best substitute for that, but it will not do so well.

Let us here enter our protest against the barbarous
custom which prevails to some extent among bird-fanciers,
of putting out the eyes of the Nightingale, in order that it
may, unscared or unattracted by the objects around it,
give its whole attention to the utterance of sweet melody.
Poor bird ! well may the strains of such be sad and com-
plaining, as the poets feign was that of the daughter of
Pandion, when deprived of her silver-sounding tongue.

Mr. H. W. Dixon, of the l Mark Lane Express/ has

34 THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE TOG.

related a very remarkable and touching anecdote of this
bird. He says : —

I went, on agricultural business, last May (1859), to visit Mr.
Jonas Webb, of Babraham, a large sheep-farmer in Cambridgeshire.
Whilst at dinner, I heard the 'jug-jug' of a Nightingale, close
outside the window. On asking about it, they said — ' Poor thing,
she's only taunting the house-dog? It seems that the large dog (a
Newfoundland, I think) had been following its master down the
drive, past a laurel bush, where the Nightingale had built her nest ;
he snapped at it, and, just missing the old bird as she flew off, de-
voured all the young ones. From that moment the bird never left
the dog. She followed it when he walked, and sat, either upon his
kennel- top, or on a bush hard by, with its plaintive note, asking for
its young ones. Actually, if the dog followed his master into the
house, the bird would accompany him to the very door-step, and
wait till he came out, just like an avenging spirit. I was told that
the poor bird had done this for three weeks, at the time I was
there. By the courtesy of Mrs. Webb, we are enabled fully to con-
firm the above affecting incident. She states — ' Our sympathy was
deeply called forth, and we earnestly desired that it were in our
power to replace the nest and little ones, and restore comfort to the
disconsolate mourner. Our surprise was great that the poor bird
could keep up her mournful song so long. It seemed as if her little
throat must be sore through her screaming for hours together. So
long as " Pilot " was in sight she continued upbraiding him night
and day. Sometimes ''Pilot" was allowed to join us when we took
our work or tea on the lawn. He would ascend the front steps, and
seat himself by the door in the hall. Even then the poor bird
would come, and actually hop on the steps after the dog. The
young persons would sometimes walk close to the bird, and see if it
would not fly away ; but no, the bird would still hop after the de-
stroyer of her little brood. For three weeks or a month we could
always tell whereabouts "Pilot" was, by the wearisome wail of the
poor bird. At length the sorrowful note ceased to be heard, and we
concluded that the bird was gone ; but suddenly it was again heard.
My husband looked out, and there was our poor bird on a high birch
tree across the lawn, and almost at the same moment "Pilot" was
seen passing under the tree. As it is believed that birds which
migrate return again to the same locality, we look forward with
much interest to watch if we shall hear any more of the one in
question, and whether "Pilot" will be remembered.'

No one has more closely studied the habits of this bird
than Bech stein, and he states that it expresses its varying
emotions by distinct cries, or intonations of the voice. To
the simple cry or whistle,/^, uttered when the bird is alone,

THE BEREAVED PARENT. 35

he attaches but little meaning ; add, however, to this the
syllable err, and it becomes the call of invitation from the
male to the female. The utterance of fear or displeasure
is/^, repeated several times rapidly and loudly, and ter-
minating with a very emphatic err; while the sound of
satisfaction or pleasure is a deep tuck, which may be imi-
tated by smacking the tongue. Melodious, as all the notes
of the bird generally are, it sometimes utters hoarse, dis-
agreeable sounds, like those of the Jay or cat ; this is when
excited by anger, jealousy, or any extraordinary event —
such, for instance, as the plundering of its nest — described
by the poet : —

When home returning with her loaded bill,
The astonished mother finds a vacant nest
By the hard hands of unrelenting clowns
Bobbed ; to the ground the vain provision falls ;
Her pinions ruffle, and, low drooping, scarce
Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade,
Where, all abandoned to despair, she sings
Her sorrow through the night, and on the bough
Sole sitting, still at every dying fall
Takes up again the lamentable strain
Of winding woe, till, wide around, the woods
Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound.

The Nightingale is the Bulbul of the eastern poets, and
we would gladly gossip on about this favourite songster,
which is found throughout Europe, extending as far north
as Sweden ; in Asia, and in Egypt on the banks of the
Nile ; but feel that we have already exceeded our space.
As a fitting conclusion, we shall quote Wordsworth's fine
lines descriptive of evening, leaving unnoticed with regret
many beautiful poems, and interesting remarks, by authors
of all ages and countries on this bird : —

The Linnet's warble, sinking towards a close,
Hints to the Thrush 'tis time for their repose ;
The shrill- voiced Thrush is heedless, and again
The Monitor revives his own sweet strain ;
But both will soon be mastered, and the copse
Be left as silent as the mountain-tops,
Ere some commanding star dismiss to rest
The throng of Rooks, that now, from twig or nest,
c 2

36 WORDSWORTH'S PICTURE.

(After a steady flight on home-bound wings,
And a last game of many hoverings
Around their ancient grove) with cawing noise,
Disturb the liquid music's equipoise.
0 Nightingale ! who ever heard thy song
Might here be moved, till Fancy grows so strong
That listening sense is pardonably cheated
Where wood or stream by thee was never greeted.
Surely from fairest spots of favoured lands
Were not some gifts withheld by jealous hands,
This hour of deepening darkness here would be,
As a fresh morning for new harmony ;
And lays as prompt would hail the dawn of night ;
A dawn she has both beautiful and bright,
When the East kindles with the full moon's light
Wanderer by spring with gradual progress led,
For sway profoundly felt as widely spread ;
To king, to peasant, to rough sailor, dear,
And to the soldier's trumpet-wearied ear ;
How welcome wouldst thou be to this green vale.
Fairer than Tempe ! Yet, sweet Nightingale !
From the warm breeze that bears thee on alight
At will, and stay thy migratory flight ;
Build at thy choice, or sing, by pool or fount,
Who shall complain or call thee to account ?
The wisest, happiest of our kind are they
That ever walk content with Nature's way,
God's goodness measuring bounty as it may ;
For whom the gravest thought of what they miss,
Chastening the fullness of a present bliss,
Is with that wholesome office satisfied,
While unrepining sadness is allied
In thankful bosoms to a modest pride.

37

CHAPTER III

WARBLERS, CONTINUED. — BLACKCAP, GARDEN WARBLER,
WHITE-THROAT, AND LESSER WHITE-THROAT.

nnHE BLACKCAP {Sylvia atricapilla), called by Macgil-
_|_ livray the i Black-capped Warbler,' is somewhat smaller
in size than the Nightingale, from which the male bird is
distinguished especially by a jet-black head, and the female
by the dark tint of the reddish brown one. We have here
another of the summer Warblers, a little greyish, or yellow-
ish brown bird, elegant in shape, brisk and lively in its
motions. It arrives about the middle of April, or rather
sooner, according to the progress of the season. Selby says
it is never with us until the larch trees are visibly green.
As with the Nightingale, the males precede the females by
some days. Woods, plantations, thick hedges, orchards, and
gardens, are the chief haunts of the bird, which is shy and
timid. The female is very cautious in selecting a nesting-
place, sometimes commencing to build in two or three dif-
ferent places, before finally settling down in one spot. The
nest is usually fixed in a bush, about two or three feet
from the ground ; it is constructed of bents and fine
herbage, lined with fibrous roots, mixed with hair. The
eggs are generally five in number, of a pale greenish white,
mottled with light brown and ash colour, with a few spots
and streaks of dark brown. This species is pretty generally
distributed through England, being rare towards the north ;
it has not been met with in Scotland. British naturalists
generally agree in giving to this bird the second place in the
scale of songsters ; it is sometimes called ' the Mock Night-
ingale.' Monk, and Moor, are common terms for it among
the Germans. Buifon calls it a Fauvet ; and Neville Wood,
after stating that the best time to observe its habits and ap-
pearance is when the currants and raspberries are ripe, for it

38 SONG OF THE BLACKCAP.

is then so intent on pilfering as to admit of a much nearer
approach than at any other season, goes on to say that —

The song of the Black capt Fauvet is, perhaps, not surpassed by any
other of the family, with the exception, however, of those of the Brake
Nightingale and Garden Fauvet. It is loud, rich, clear, and rapid, and,
in its way, almost equals that of the leader of the vernal chorus, the
Brake Nightingale. It sings more constantly than any of its con-
geners, and, indeed, it is much more frequently heard than seen. If,
however, you will sit upon a mossy bank, shaded with bushes and
trees, near the spot from which the song proceeds, it will not be long
before you obtain a sight of him, as, when undisturbed, he generally
sings in rather a conspicuous station, at the top of a tree. But if
you approach incautiously or hastily, it instantly darts down into
the midst of the thickest brake the spot affords, where it will
patiently wait your departure. In the meanwhile, however, for the
sake of employment, it will renew its strains, even though you be
standing within a few yards of it.

Main, writing on British Song Birds, in the * Magazine
of Natural History,' says of this species, that —

It is the contra- alto singer of the woodland choir. The fine,
varied, joyous song of this emigrant is noticed by the most listless
auditor : the strain occupies about three bars of triple time in the
performance, and though very frequently repeated, is somewhat varied
in every repetition. He begins with two or three short essays of
double notes, gradually crescendo up to a loud and full swell of varied
expression. One passage often occurs, as truly enunciated as if per-
formed on an octave flute. The style and key of the song are
nearly the same in all individuals, though some may be noticed to
vary in style. I knew one bird that frequented the same spot of a
wood for three summers, who signalised himself by an arrangement
of notes, very much excelling his brethren around. The Blackcap
is certainly the finest singer of the whole tribe of Warblers, except
the Nightingale.

White observes that it has usually a full, sweet, deep,
loud, and wild pipe ; yet the strain is of short continuance,
and its motions desultory ; but when this bird sits calmly,
and in earnest engages in song, it pours forth very sweet but
inward melody, and expresses great variety of sweet and
gentle modulations ; while it warbles, its throat is wonder-
fully distended.

Knapp observes of this bird, ' that so careful and sus-
picious is it that several selected spots are often abandoned

AMIABILITY OF TEMPER. 39

before the nest is finished, from some apprehension or
caprice; all intrusion is jealously noticed, and during the
whole period of sitting and rearing its young, it is timid
and restless.'

Miss Waring, in her charming i Minstrelsy of the Woods/
has noticed that the male bird is of a most amiable and
affectionate temper, and that when taken captive with his
family, he will continue to feed the young ones and the fe-
male, even forcing the latter to eat, when the misery she
experiences from the loss of freedom would lead her to
refuse all sustenance. In time he becomes much attached
to the person who takes care of him, expressing his affec-
tion by particular notes of joy on the approach of such to
his cage. Like the Nightingale, on the approach of the
season of emigration, he becomes restless, frequently flut-
tering his wings against the bars of his prison, and is some-
times so agitated during the autumnal nights, as to die in
consequence. We must quote this lady's sweet lines to the
bird —

Oh ! fair befall thee, gay Fauvette,
With trilling song and crown of jet;
Thy pleasant notes with joy I hail,
Floating on the vernal gale.
Far hast thou flown on downy wing,
To be our guest in early spring :
In that first dawning of the year,
Pouring a strain as rich and clear
As is the Blackbird's mellow lay,
In later hours of flowery May.
While April skies to grove and field
Alternate shade and sunshine yield,
I hear thy wild and joyous strain,
And give thee welcome once again.
Come build within my hawthorn bower,
And shade thy nurselings with its flower ;
Or where my wreathed woodbines twine,
Make there a home for thee and thine,
Now fair befall thee, gay Fauvette,
With trilling song and crown of jet!

To this perhaps our readers will thank us for adding a
poetical tribute from Bishop Mant's ' British Months' —

40 THE GARDEN WARBLER.

Fain, 'mid the hawthorn's budding boughs,

Or where the dark green ivy shows

Its purple fruit the foliage through,

Would I the early Blackcap view ;

With sable cowl and amice grey,

Arrived from regions far away ;

Like palmer from some sainted shrine,

Or holy hills of Palestine :

And hear his desultory bill

Such notes of varying cadence trill,

That mimic art, that quavered strain,

May strive to match, but strive in vain.

GARDEN WARBLER.

THE GARDEN WARBLER (Sylvia hortensis). — Sometimes
called the Greater Petty chaps, Nettle Creeper, Billy White-
throat, Fauvet, or Garden Fauvet ; is about six inches in
length ; the upper parts of the plumage are greyish brown,
tinged with olive ; the under parts greyish white, deepen-
ing into brown at the breast and sides. It closely resem-
bles the Blackcap in form, and somewhat in colour. It is
not a plentiful bird in England, and is confined to the south-
ern counties, where it is known to arrive about the latter
end of April, or the beginning of May. It chiefly inhabits
thick hedges, where it makes a nest composed of goose grass
and other fibrous plants, with the addition of a light green
moss, put somewhat loosely together ; it is lined with a

EGGS, FOOD, AND SONG. 41

layer of finer grass, and sometimes with moss. The eggs
are about the size of those of the Hedge-sparrow, four or
five in number, of a yellowish white colour, blotched with
light grey and olive brown, most thickly at the larger end.
This bird is fond of larvae and insects, and also of pulpy
fruit, such as cherries and strawberries, on which it feeds
eagerly, as also on plums, pears, and such early apples as
are ripe before it leaves. Its liking for fruit often brings it
into gardens, and it has been known to build its nest in
such a situation, among a row of peas. Jesse records an
instance of its building its nest three times in succession
among some ivy growing against an oak.

Sweet, in his account of the Sylvia genus, calls this
bird the Greater Pettychaps or Garden Warbler ; by
Wood it is termed the Garden Fauvet. White does
not mention it, although, as Wood remarks, it is found
somewhat plentifully in the neighbourhood of Selborne.
Latham was the first 'to describe it as a British bird,
having received a specimen from Lancashire. Selby
mentions having seen it north of the river Tweed, which
Montagu had previously stated to be its northern limit; and
several Scottish naturalists have since put the truth of his
statement beyond a doubt, by describing specimens seen and
taken in several localities of that country. It may be met with
in almost every part of England ; although more locally
distributed than the Blackcap, it is perhaps not less abun-
dant in places where it does occur. So says Neville Wood,
to whom we are indebted for the following interesting
particulars : —

The song of the Garden Fauvet bears considerable resemblance to
that of the Garden Ouzel, but it is destitute of that exquisite richness
and depth of tone which appear to be almost peculiar to the notes of
the latter. Neither is it so loud, though by no means wanting in
power.

It mostly inhabits small groves, thick braky woods, in the
neighbourhood of houses, and is a frequent visitant of the garden,
though its services here are little appreciated, except by the natu-
ralist. It generally sings in the midst of the thickest and most im-
penetrable brakes, where it has leisure to pour forth its exquisitely
sweet strains, alike secure from the gun of the prying naturalist, and
the stcne of the idle schoolboy. Often, however, it appears to aban-

4-2 THE PETTYCHAP'S NEST.

don its usual shy and skulking habits, and, like the preceding species,
sings near the top of a moderately lofty tree. I have also observed
another habit which does not appear to have been noticed by any pre-
ceding naturalist, with whose works I am acquainted ; and that is its
darting into the air to catch insects in the same manner as the Spotted
Flycatcher (Muscicapa grisola), often taking its stand on a dahlia
stake, watching for its prey, darting aloft with inconceivable rapid-
ity, with its bill upwards, catching the fly with a loud snap of the
bill, and immediately returning to its station, again and again to
renew the same process with similar success. Often as I have ob-
served this interesting manoeuvre, I do not remember a single
instance in which it missed its prey. It is very probable, that if the
Garden Fauvet * tuned his merry throat ' in the night season, the notes
would be considered little inferior to those of the Brake Nightingale,
though they do not possess that astonishing variety which is observ-
able in the song of the latter. Each of the Brake Nightingale's
strains is different from the last, and it is as impossible to conjec-
ture what will come next as it is to keep all the notes in one's recol-
lection. The melody of the Garden Fauvet, on the other hand,
though far from being destitute of variety, cannot boast of the inter-
minable changes of the other, and is easily remembered after it has
once been heard. Indeed, so remarkable is it for the exquisite
sweetness of its expression, that it is not easily forgotten, and cannot
fail to strike those who pay the smallest attention to the beauties of
nature.

* In Kent and Surrey,' writes Mr. Blythe, * the term Nettle-creeper
is applied, by those who distinguish the different species, to the gar-
rulous Fauvet. The Garden Fauvet is termed the " Nightingale's
mate," and " Billy White-throat," in contradistinction to " Peggy
White-throat." Many suppose that the Garden Fauvet is theBlackcapt
Fauvet, and say, in consequence, that the female of that species sings.
The sexes of the former may generally^ be distinguished by the more
rufous colour of the male under the wing.'

We will now let John Clare, in his own simple and
natural way, describe

THE PETTYCHAP'S NEST.

Well ! in my many walks I 've rarely found
A place less likely for a bird to form
Its nest — close by the rut-galled wagon road,
And on the almost bare foot-trodden ground,
With scarce a clump of grass to keep it warm !
Where not a thistle spreads its spears abroad,
Or prickly bush, to shield it from harm's way ;
And yet so snugly made that none may spy
It out, save peradventure. You and I

THE WHITE-THROAT. 43

Had surely passed it in our walk to-day,

Had chance not led us by it ! — Nay, e'en now,

Had not the old bird heard us trampling by,

And fluttered out, we had not seen it lie,

Brown as the roadway side. Small bits of hay

Plucked from the old propt haystack's bleachy brow,

And withered leaves, make up its outward wall,

Which from the gnarl'd oak-dotterel yearly fall,

And in the old hedge-bottom rot away.

Built like an oven, through a little hole,

Scarcely admitting e'en two fingers in,

Hard to discern, the birds snug entrance win.

'Tis lined with feathers warm as silken stole,

Softer than seats of down for painless ease,

And full of eggs scarce bigger even than peas !

Here 's one most delicate, with spots as small

As dust, and of a faint and pinky red.

— Stop ! here 's the bird — that woodman at the gap

Frightened him from the hedge : — 'tis olive green.

Well ! I declare it is the Pettychap !

Not bigger than the Wren, and seldom seen.

I 've often found her nest in chance's way,

When I in pathless woods did idly roam;

But never did I dream until to-day

A spot like this would be her chosen home.

COMMON WHITE-THROAT.

THE WHITE-THROAT (Sylvia cinered), sometimes called
the White-throated Warbler, Wheybeard, Wheetee-why,

44 PECULIAR HABITS.

Peggy White-throat, Nettle Creeper, Churr, Muff, Muffet,
Muftie, Beardy, Blethering Tarn, Whattie, Whiskey. We
have here a good choice of epithets, most of them more
expressive than elegant, but serving to show that we are
now treating of a well-known and popular bird. A lively
and loquacioiis fellow it is, about five inches and three
quarters in length, with a dress the upper portion of which
is light greyish brown, warmed up with red on the wing
coverts and fore part of the neck, the under part being
greyish white. It is among brambles or briars, or the
rank herbage in the vicinity of a hedge or thicket, that
we must look for the nest, which is elegantly, although
somewhat loosely constructed, of the withered stems of
goose grass, and other slender stalks, and lined with fine
grass and a little hair, neatly smoothed. The eggs are
generally five in number, of a greenish white colour,
spotted and freckled with greenish and purplish grey;
their average length is nine twelfths of an inch. This is
called by Sweet the Larger White-throat ; by Wood the
White-throated Fauvet ; and by Macgillivray the White-
throated Warbler ; it is most commonly known, however,
as the White-throat. According to the author last named,
it

Arrives in this country from the 20th April to the 10th of May,
and immediately betakes itself to the thickets or hawthorn hedges,
where its presence may be detected by the short, pleasantly modu-
lated warble of a few notes, which it emits at intervals. Were it not
for this habit it would be difficult to discover it, for although it
allows a person to approach very near, it flits incessantly, and with
extreme agility, among the twigs, and, if pursued, generally keeps
on the other side of the hedge, flies off to a short distance, emits its
song, sometimes while on the wing, more frequently the moment it
alights ; then glides along, takes flight again, sings, and so continues
for a long time. If you follow it to a distance, it returns in the
same manner. When not disturbed, it often rises over the hedge or
bush to a height varying from a few feet to several yards, flutters
in the air with fitful and fantastic motion, singing all the while, and
then drops to its perch. In all its movements, if excited, it keeps the
feathers of the head erected, and, when singing, swells out its throat
conspicuously. Even after being shot, you find the feathers of that
part standing out more than is usual in birds ; and from this habit is
probably derived the familiar names of Muftie or Muffety, or Charlie
Muftie, by which it is generally known in Scotland. Its song is

DESCRIBED BY WHITE, SWEET, ETC. 45

heard immediately after its arrival, and in a few days it is seen in
pairs.

White gives a description of this bird which is by no
means flattering : — i The note of the White-throat, which is
continually repeated, and often attended with odd gesticu-
lations on the wing, is harsh and unpleasing. These birds
seem of a pugnacious disposition ; for they sing with an
erected crest and attitudes of rivalry and defiance ; they are
shy and wild in breeding time, avoiding neighbourhoods, and
haunting lonely lanes and commons ; nay, even the very
tops of the Sussex downs, where there are bushes and
covert ; but in July and August they bring their broods
into gardens, and make great havoc among the summer
fruit,'

Blyth, however, says that in the above passage the evil
qualities of the White-throat appear very much in relief;
that this is a very sprightly and active little bird, enliven-
ing various localities where its presence would be much
missed, and though in the fruit season it visits our gardens
in sufficient abundance, it is decidedly somewhat less fruit-
ivorous than its British congeners, and confines its depre-
dations chiefly to the smaller fruits.

Sweet, describing the habits of this bird in a state of
captivity, says, * It is a very lively and interesting species,
and one of the easiest preserved. Its song, in my opinion,
cannot be surpassed by any bird whatever. It is both
lively, sweet and loud, and consists of a great variety of
notes. One that I at present possess will sing for hours
together against a Nightingale, now in the beginning of
January, and it will not suffer itself to be outdone. When
the Nightingale raises its voice it also does the same, and
tries its utmost to get above it. Sometimes in the midst of
its song it will run up to the Nightingale and stretch out
its neck as if in defiance, and whistle as loud as it can,
staring it in the face. If the Nightingale attempts to peck
it, away it is in an instant, flying round the aviary, and
singing with all its might.' He also records that he kept
a fine male bird eight or nine years, and it continued as
lively and sung as well as ever.

46 THE LESSER WHITE-THROAT.

Bishop Mant, after describing the Swallows, says : —

Nor April dost thou fail to bring
To greet thee birds of shorter wing,
Infirm of flight ; yet such as trill
Melodious from their tender bill
Sweet music. If the White-throat's lay,
Flitting from hedgerow spray to spray,
Or gently mounting through the air,
To mark its bosom silvery fair
Invite us —

And William Howitt makes the music of the White-
throat one of the pleasures of a life in the greenwood : —

Come ye, come ye, to the merry greenwood,

Loudly the Blackbird is singing ;
The squirrel is feeding on blossom and bud,

And the curled fern is springing.
Here you may sleep, in the wood so deep,

While the moon is so warm and so weary,
And sweetly awake, when the sun through the brake

Bids the Fauvet and White-throat sing cheery.

THE LESSER WHITE-THROAT (Sylvia garrulci). — This is
another member of the genus Sylvia which comes to us as
a summer visitant. It is somewhat smaller than the species
last described, but very like it in form and colour ; so
much so, that it has been often, even by naturalists, con-
founded with it. By Sweet this bird is called the Lesser
White-throat; it is also termed the Babillard, and the
White-breasted or Babbling Warbler. Neville Wood gives
a somewhat lengthened description of it, under the title
Garrulous Fauvet, and says that the name Lesser White-
throat is an erroneous one ; he describes it as extremely
shy and retired in its habits, hiding itself in the midst of
the thickest hedges and most impenetrable brakes, which
it threads with almost inconceivable rapidity, and seldom
quits. The song — if, indeed, it deserves the name —
consists of two or three harsh notes often repeated, but
without variation. This is generally uttered from beneath
the bushes, rarely whilst perched on the top of them, and
not very often on the wing.

The nest bears a close resemblance to that of the other

BECHSTEIN'S ACCOUNT. 47

Fauvets, being open and of slight construction, but, as
might be supposed from the size of the bird, is consider-
ably smaller. It may also always be distinguished by
being lined with small roots. It is situated in low bushes,
brambles, thick hedges or brakes, generally near the
ground, but sometimes several feet above it. The eggs,
usually five, are greyish white, spotted and patched with
grey and brown ; they are about two thirds of an inch
long. Its food consists of different kinds of insects and
their larvae, with which it supplies its young in great
abundance.

Blyth notices that it is particularly partial to fruit,
especially cherries, and says — 1 1 have repeatedly noted as
many as eight or ten together feeding on elder-berries.'
He also observes that ' it is a remarkably garrulous and
tyrannical species in confinement, attacking birds more
than twice its size ;' and that in its natural state he has
seen it driving away its congener, the White-throated Fau-
vet, with which bird it seems Montagu, in his ' Ornitho-
logical Dictionary,' confounds this Warbler, as do several
others, owing probably to its shy habits and comparative
scarcity.

Bechstein says that l throughout Germany this bird is
called the Little Miller, because some peculiar notes of its
song are supposed to resemble the noise of a mill — Map,
klapy Idap, klap ! It is commonly thought that this is the
whole of its song, whereas in the variety and beauty of its
notes, though very soft and not very pure in tone, it sur-
passes all other Warblers. While singing, it leaps from
twig to twig of the thick underwood, but pauses for a
moment when it comes to the final Map, and gives it out
with expanded throat and considerable effect.' Here is
Sweet's picture of its habits as a domestic bird : — l One
that I bred up from the nest became so attached to its cage
that it could not be prevailed upon to quit it for any length
of time. When the door of it was put open, it would
generally come out quickly, and first perch on the door,
then mount to the top of the cage, and from thence it
would fly to the top of any other cages that were in the
room, and catch any flies that carne within its reach.

48 THE LESSER WHITETHROAT.

Sometimes it would descend to the floor, or perch on a table
or chair, and would come and take a fly out of the hand,
or drink milk out of a spoon, if invited; of this it was very
fond. As soon as it was the least frightened, it would fly
immediately to the cage, perch on the top, from thence to
the door, and would enter in exactly the same manner as
it came out. I have often hung it out at the window,
perched on the top of its cage, with the door open, and it
would never attempt to fly away. Sometimes, if a fly
should happen to pass near, it would fly off and catch it,
and return with it to the top of the cage. After remaining
there a considerable time, it would either return into it or
fly in at the window and perch on the cages of the other
birds. I sometimes have placed the cage, with its door
open, in the garden, where the ants were plentiful. It was
always very shy of coming out, and would never venture
far from it, and on being the least alarmed would return
to it again.'

This, like many another feathered pet, eventually fell a
victim to the claws of Grimalkin. 1A strange cat came
into the room where it was, and pulled it out from betwixt
the wires of the cage, without leaving a feather behind, it
was so very small.'

The Lesser Whitetliroat is a merry bird,
Incessantly its chirping notes are heard ;
Yet loves it not from out the brake to roam,
But tarries, e'er contented with its home.
So to her hearth the thrifty housewife clings,
And as she plies the wheel, the shuttle flings,
To show her cheerfulness of heart, she gaily sings.

The Whitethroat is a dweller on the brake,
And loveth not the thicket to forsake.
Its home is ever in the pleasant shade,
By budding sprays and leafy branches made ;
And there it chatters on from day to day,
Pleased with itself, and innocently gay,
Careless and fearless how time speeds away.

49

WOOD WABBLEB.

CHAPTER IV.

WARBLERS WOOD WARBLER, WILLOW WARBLER, CHIFF-CHAFF

AND DARTFORD WARBLER.

THE WOOD WREN (Phyllopneuste sylvicola), sometimes
called the Yellow Wood Wren. With this bird we
enter upon a new genus of the Warblers, called Phyllopneuste
by Macgillivray, who describes the Wood Wrens as ' very
small and delicate birds, of extremely active habits, inti-
mately allied to the Sylviance on the one hand, and the
Kinglets on the other. Three species occur in Britain,
where they are migratory, visiting us about the middle or
towards the end of April, and retiring in September. They
frequent woods and bushy places, especially in the lower
grounds, and by rivers, brooks, lakes, and ponds. They
feed entirely on insects of various kinds, larvae, pupge, and
worms, which they search for among the foliage, on the
twigs, and sometimes on the ground. Their flight is rapid,
gliding, and undulating, but generally short. Their song is
short, lively, and melodious. They are generally distri-
buted in the wooded districts, but are not equally dis-
persed/

The species which is above-named, and of which the cut

50

THE WILLOW WEEN.

is before us, is about five inches long ; the upper parts of
the plumage are light yellowish green, the throat and sides
of the breast yellow, the under parts white.

Mr .Weir states that he once found a nest of Wood Wrens
which was built on the side of an old mossy ditch, in the
middle of a plantation, about 290 yards from the house.
They began it on Friday morning, the 2nd June, and
finished it on Saturday afternoon. The female laid six
eggs ; the first on Sunday, the 4th, the last on Friday, the
9th, and began to sit on Saturday, the 10th. The ground
colour of the eggs is white, with markings of reddish purple.
In shape the nest was very much like the Willow Wren's,
except that, instead of being lined with feathers, it was
built with fine grass, and a few long hairs. He continues —
* These birds have a curious hissing and whistling note,
from which, no doubt, they got the Sibilatrix, the scientific
name by which the species is distinguished by Jennyns,
Temminck, and some others. White of Selborne was the
first to notice this as a British bird ; it was described
and figured by Lamb in the i Transactions of the Lin-
nsean Society.' The following is part of his account of its
habits : — ' It inhabits woods, and comes with the rest of
the summer Warblers, and in manners is much the same,
running up and down trees in search of insects. I heard it
first early in May in White Knight's Park, near Eeading.
It was then hopping about on the upper branch of a very
high pine, and having a very singular and shrill note, it
attracted my attention, being very much like that of the
common Bunting ; but so astonishingly shrill that I heard
it at more than a hundred yards distant ; this it repeated
once in three or four minutes. I never heard these birds
before last spring, and nevertheless I have heard nine in
the course of a month.' But these, it should be observed,
were in different parts of the country.

THE WILLOW WREN (Phyllopneuste trocliilus). — This
bird is known among us by the various names of the Willow
Warbler, Willow or Ground Wren, Hay-bird, and Huck-
muck. Macgillivray calls it the Willow Wood Wren, and
places it in his genus Phyllopneuste with the Yellow Wood

CONFIDENCE AND ATTACHMENT. 51

Wren, and the Short-winged Wood Wren, or Chiff-chaff,
with both of which this species is sometimes confounded. It
may, however, be distinguished from the former by the
darker olive-green tint of the plumage of the upper part of
the body ; by the light- coloured streak over the eye being
smaller, and not so well defined ; by all the under surface
of the body, and under tail-coverts, being tinged with yellow ;
and by the shortness, as well as by the structure of the
wing, the second feather of which is equal in length to the
sixth. From the Chiff-chaff it is best distinguished by its
pale brown legs, those of that bird being nearly black. So
says Yarrell, who relates a remarkable instance of this bird's
attachment to its nest, as recorded by a lady in i The Field
Naturalist :' —

In the spring of 1832, walking through an orchard, I was at-
tracted by something on the ground in the form of a large ball, and
composed of dried grass. I took it up, and, upon examination,
found it was a domed nest of the Willow Wren. Concerned at my
precipitation, I put it down again as near the same place as I could
suppose, but with very little hope that the architect would ever
claim it again after such an attack. I was, however, agreeably sur-
prised to find, next day, that the little occupier was still proceeding
with his work. The feathers inside were increased, as I could per-
ceive by the alteration in colour. In a few days two eggs were
laid, and I thought my little protege safe from harm, when a flock
of ducks that had strayed from the poultry yard, with their usual
curiosity, went straight to the nest, which was very conspicuous, as
the grass had not grown high enough to conceal it, and, with their
bills, spread it quite open, displaced the eggs, and made the nest a
complete ruin. I now despaired ; but immediately, on driving the
authors of the mischief away, I tried to restore the nest to something
like its proper form, and placed the eggs inside. The same day I
was astonished to find an addition of another egg, and in about a
week four more. The bird sate, and ultimately brought out seven
young ones ; but I cannot help supposing it a singular instance of at-
tachment and confidence, after being twice so rudely disturbed.

The length of this bird is about five inches ; the upper
parts of the body are a light greenish brown, the feathers
being edged with yellowish green ; the cheeks and sides of
the neck are a pale greyish brown, tinged with yellow ; the
foreneck and sides greyish white, streaked with yellow, the
breast and abdomen white. Of the three British species of

52 NEST AND SONG.

the genus, this is the most common ; it is a delicate and active
little bird, equally pleasing on account of its liveliness and
cheerful song. It arrives in the south of England early in
April, and in the middle parts of Scotland about the 20th
and 25th of that month, resorting to woods and thickets,
especially those in the neighbourhood of water, where it
remains until its departure late in September. It is ex-
tremely vivacious, and is seen briskly flitting about among
the twigs in search of insects, frequently making little
excursions on wing in pursuit of a fly, and sometimes
betaking itself to the ground, where it hops and frisks with
equal activity.

The nest is placed on the ground among the herbage, on
a dry bank, under a hedge, or beneath a bush. It is com-
posed of moss, and sometimes a few withered leaves ; then
of blades and stalks of chervil grass, with long, fibrous roots
and hairs, and an internal layer of feathers ; it is arched
over. The eggs are from four to seven in number, white,
with red or purplish spots ; length about seven and a-half
twelfths of an inch.

Mr. Hepburn, who observed the habits of this bird in the
interior of Haddingtonshire, says : —

On the 9th of May I heard a great many "Willow Wrens singing
on a tall hedge-row, in a well-sheltered glen ; also, a few in the
plantation, in which I observed the Wood Wren. I saw none any-
where else until the 12th, when they were very generally distributed.
The situations which they most frequent, are gardens, plantations,
and hedges, in the latter case giving the preference to those which
have not been subjected to pruning. Their song is very pleasing,
consisting of several plaintive notes in a regular descending scale.
During windy weather, we only hear a plaintive note, resembling
whe-u-ee. The song of this species is heard till the middle or end of
July. In autumn great numbers may be seen gliding about amongst
our^ fruit-trees and bushes. I do not think they ever eat fruit,
their sole object being to feed on the multitudes of insects which
resort thither. The young are fledged about the beginning of July, and
from this neighbourhood the species takes its departure about the
8th or 10th of September.

Bishop Mant thus describes the bird —

Where the gay sallow's bursting down
Is gilt with many a golden crown,

THE CHIFF-CHAFF.

Fain would I now, in rival gold
His slender form attired, behold
The willow-haunting Wren, and hear
His plaintive wood-notes, warbled clear
As on the breath of morning floats
The music of his hymn-like notes.

53

CHIFF-CHAFF.

THE SHORT-WINGED WILLOW WREN (Phyllopneuste hip-
polais), sometimes called the Chiff-chaff, or Lesser Petty-
chaps, Chip-chop, or Hay-bird. Closely resembling the
Willow Wren in form and colour, and nearly equalling it
in size, this lively little songster may be distinguished by
the comparative shortness of its wings. It is one of the
first Warblers that visits us in spring, and is welcomed as a
harbinger of the season of song and sunshine. It has been
seen here as early as the 12th of March, and attracted
attention by its sprightly actions and double call, most
resembling the two syllables chiff-chaff, from which its
common name is derived. On the first arrival of these
birds they are said to feed on the larvae of various species
of moths, which are rolled up in the expanding buds of
trees, and which, if not destroyed, would do much to blight
the cultivator's hopes of a good fruit crop. When the
weather is mild and fine, the hardy little birds may be seen
among the most forward trees of the orchard, flying from

54 ACTIVE AND RESTLESS HABITS.

branch to branch, chasing each other, and catching the
gnats and small flies which are called forth by the fitful
sunshine. In the summer they feed on the aphides which
infest trees and plants, as well as on small caterpillars, flies,
and moths. The shady woods, hedge- rows, and bushes, are
their common places of resort, and their nest is generally
placed on or near the ground in a hedge-bank. It is com-
posed outwardly of dried grass, dead leaves, and moss, and
is lined profusely with feathers. Instances have occurred
of its being raised two feet or more from the ground. One
was found in dead fern at this elevation at least, and
another in some ivy against a garden wall. The eggs are
usually six in number, white, spotted sparsely with dark
purplish red.

According to Yarrell, ' The Chiff-chafF is nowhere so
abundant as the Willow Warbler ; it is, however, found,
though few in number, in all the southern counties, from
Sussex to Cornwall and Wales, and it extends as far north
as Northumberland.' Macgillivray, however, finds it in
the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, where it arrives, he
says, from the 13th to the 28th of April, a week earlier
than the Willow Wren,

Which it resembles, not in form and colour only, but in its active
and restless habits. On the other hand, it remains with us to a
later period than that species, generally delaying its departure until
the beginning of October. Individuals indeed have been known to
remain all the winter. Thus Montagu mentions two that were seen in
his garden about Christmas ; and I have in my collection a specimen
shot near JSTewhaven, in a turnip field, in January 1836. In spring
it is first observed among bushes in sheltered places, in nursery
grounds and gardens, searching among the twigs for insects, pecking
the buds in quest of larvae, and sallying forth occasionally on wing in
pursuit of a passing gnat, or other fly. As it proceeds it emits, at
intervals, its notes, which are shrill, rather weak, and seem to resemble
the syllables cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep, chee, rather than chiff-chaff,
cherry-churry, as some have interpreted them. It nestles from the
beginning to the middle of June, and seems to rear two broods in
the season.

' It should be borne in mind,' says Yarrell, l that the
British birds to which the term hippolais has usually been
attached in the works of British naturalists, is not the hip-
polais of continental authors.'

THE DARTFORD WARBLER. 55

DARTFORD WARBLER.

THE DARTFORD WARBLER (Melizopliilus Dartfordiensis).
This little bird has been placed by some naturalists in a
distinct genus, although it is scarcely distinguished from
several birds which constitute the genera Phyllopneuste and
Sylvice. In form and manners it closely resembles the
Whitethroat. It is about the size of the Chiff- chaff, but has
a longer tail, and the plumage generally is of a more dusky
hue.

Although a permanent resident, this is a rare bird with
us. It is confined to the southern counties of England,
and to districts where there is plenty of thick cover, such
as furze and gorse, amid which it keeps pretty closely con-
cealed, gliding through the bushes with great activity. It
flies in short jerks like the Chats, and feeds on small insects,
which it frequently seizes on the wing. It has a weak,
shrill song, often repeated and emitted when the bird is
hovering over a bush or thicket, like the Whitethroat. It
is extremely shy, and if any one approaches its haunts,
conceals itself among the shrubs, creeping like the Hedge
Sparrow in a quiet and hiding manner.

The Province Furzeling, as it is sometimes called, was
first identified as a British species in 1773, some specimens
having been killed on Bexley Heath, near Dartford, in
Kent, on the 10th of April in that year. Sometimes it

56 MONTAGU'S DESCRIPTION.

has been found on furzey commons in other parts of Kent,
and in Cornwall, Devonshire, Hampshire, Middlesex, and
Surrey. Montagu was the first to discover the nest of this
bird, upon a large furze common near Kingsbridge, Devon-
shire ; it was placed upon the thick branches of the thickest
furze, about two feet from the ground; this was on the
17th of July, and the nest contained three young ones.

* On the same day,' lie says, ' a pair was observed carrying mate-
rials for building, and by concealing myself in the bushes, I soon
discovered the place of nidification ; and, upon examination, found
the nest was just begun. As early as the 19th it appeared to be
finished; but it possessed only one egg on the 21st, and on the
26th it contained four.

* The nest is composed of dry vegetable stalks, particularly gorse
grass, mixed with the tender dead branches of furze, not sufficiently
hardened to become prickly ; these are put together in a very loose
manner, and intermixed very thoroughly with wool. In one of the
nests was a single partridge's feather. The lining is equally spar-
ing, for it consists of a few dry stalks of carex, without a single leaf
of the plant, and only two or three of the panicles. The eggs are
described as greenish white, freckled all over with olive brown
and ash colour, the markings becoming more dense, and forming
a zone at the larger end.

1 Nothing can excel the activity of these little creatures ; they are
in perpetual motion the whole day, throwing themselves into various
attitudes and gesticulations, erecting the crest and tail at intervals,
accompanied by a double or triple cry, which seems to express the
words cha, cha, cha. They frequently take their food with their
heads downwards, and (in confinement) not unfrequently turn over
backwards on the perch. The song is different from anything of
the kind I ever heard, but in part resembles that of the Stonechat.'

Eusticus, of Godalming, who describes the habits of the
Dartford Warbler in * London's Magazine,' says : — ' They
are very like those of the little Wren ; and when the leaves
are off the trees, and the chill winter winds have driven the
summer birds to the olive gardens of Spain, or across the
Straits, the Furze Wren, as it is there called, is in the
height of its enjoyment. I have seen them by dozens
skipping about the furze, lighting for a moment on the
very point of the sprigs, and instantly diving out of sight
again, singing out their angry impatient ditty, for ever
the same. They prefer those places where the furze is very
thick, high, and difficult to get at,'

THE SEDGE WARBLER.

57

Rennie has observed this bird on Blackheath, suspended
over a furze, and singing on the wing like a Whitethroat
or Titlark, as early as the end of February. Gould men-
tions that he has obtained specimens at all seasons ; and
Montagu relates that he observed a pair of these birds with
young which had quitted the nest, and were skulking
amongst the thick furze, as early as the 10th of May.
' The artifices these little creatures made to induce us to
follow them, in order to entice us from the spot, were highly
amusing ; their usual cry was changed into a scream of dis-
tress ; they would almost suffer the hand to touch them,
and then fall from the spray, and tumble along the ground,
as if fluttering in their last struggle for existence.'

SEDGE \VARBLER.

THE SEDGE WARBLER (Calamoherpe phragmitis) is also
called the Sedge Bird and the Sedge Wren or Reedling.
It is about five inches and a half long, rather more than
seven in the extent of its wings ; the head slender, and
bill pointed, and tail wedge or lancet-shaped ; the whole
well fitted for gliding between the tall aquatic plants
among which it chiefly resides and finds its food. Colour
of plumage : upper part of the head brownish black, the
feathers edged with light brown ; back and wing coverts
light olive brown tinged with yellow ; rump light reddish

58 MODE OF SINGING AND BUILDING.

brown ; a yellowish white streak over each eye ; lower
parts brownish white.

This bird belongs to the Calamoherpe, or Reedling genus,
of which there are two British species ; it arrives in Eng-
land about the middle of April, and silently, but in great
numbers, takes possession of the banks of streams and
pools, of osier holts, and of shrubs and bushes that grow
by marshes and other moist spots. It does not inhabit the
very high grounds, but it appears throughout the whole
range of England, and partially in the south of Scotland.
It is not a loud songster, but a very constant one ; and
though it sings best in the morning and towards night, it
may be heard at most times of the day, and not unfre-
quently during the night. Its song is hurried, though
varied, not so much in the single stave, as in its having
several of them, which would lead one to imagine there
were different birds. It sings deep in the throat and gives
a sort of guttural twist to all it utters, while leaping
among the woods from one resting place to another, or sit-
ting perched on a bush or osier twig. The mode of build-
ing peculiar to this bird depends upon the locality; if
among reeds, the nest is united to two or three of these ;
if in a holt where the young osiers do not afford con-
venient forks, it is on the side of some stool that stands
above the flooding ; if in a bush, it is placed in the centre;
and if the only cover for the bird be rushes, the nest is
enclosed in a tuft. The materials are vegetable fibres and
moss, with occasionally a few hairs, but in general the
lining is formed of the finer fibres of dry grass and roots.
The eggs are five or six in number, and of a light dull
brown, mottled with darker spots of the same. The food
of this bird consists chiefly of those insects which frequent
humid and watery places, which it captures by leaping
upon them suddenly from its perch.

On either side the marshy banks of the Thames, among
the beds of reeds and rushes, these little birds abound, but
they are not easily got at on account of the soil and swampy
nature of the ground. It is found pretty generally distri-
buted along the margins of the Scotch lochs, particularly
where there is plenty of reedy grass and birchen coppice.

THE REED WARBLER. 59

' There/ says Selby, ' the well-known babbling notes of
this wakeful little bird proclaim its presence in many un-
suspected situations.'

Where rushes hide the stagnant pool, or fringe the gliding stream,
And in the sunshine dragon-flies, like winged jewels, gleam;
Where on the borders of the marsh the stunted hawthorns grow,
And thrift, and wild sea-lavender, shed o'er a purple glow ;
Where alders tremulously stand, and osier twigs are seen
To dance unto the singing breeze, like fairies clad in green ;
Where drooping willows kiss the wave, and whistling reeds in ranks
Incline their velvet heads unto the shores and shelving banks ;
Where dives the sullen water-rat ; where leaps the speckled frog ;
And flies and midges gaily sport above the quaking bog ; —
'Tis there the blithe Sedge Warbler dwells, and there his nest he

builds,

In rushy tuft, or whatsoe'er the needful shelter yields ;
'Tis there he singeth constantly, a sweet, though scarce-heard song,
When skies are beautifully blue, and summer days are long,
And sometimes in the misty morn, and sometimes in the night,
He chaunteth out right merrily, to show his heart is light :
He glanceth 'twixt the bending reeds, he skimmeth o'er the tide,
And many a snug retreat is there, his form from foes to hide ;
Come weal, come woe, his constant mate still sitteth on her nest,
And food is plentiful, that he may pick and choose the best ;
And for his rising family he hath no anxious cares,
Like men, that know the world is full of pitfalls and of snares,
With fears, that truly prophesy, his heart is never stirred ;
He is unconscious of all these — oh, happy, happy bird !

THE REED WARBLER (Calamoherpe arundinaced). — This
bird is described by Macgillivray as about five inches and
a half long, and as being very like the Sedge Eeedling, from
which it is readily distinguished by its more slender elon-
gated bill, the absence of a white streak over the eye, and
the uniform tint of the upper parts of the body, which is
a light olive brown, the lower part being pale yellow, and
the throat white. i It has not hitherto been observed in
Scotland, nor in the northern counties of England. In
Holland it is very abundant ; but it is chiefly to the south-
eastern portions of our island that its summer visits are
extended. It frequents marshy places, margined or over-
grown with reeds and other aquatic plants, among which it
searches for its food, insects, worms and slugs, in the hideling

60 NEST AND EGGS.

manner of the Sedge Reedling, with which, no doubt, it is
frequently confounded. Its song is loud, cheerful, much
diversified, and sometimes performed at night. Its nest dif-
fers from that of the bird above named in being composed of

REED WARBLER.

blades and stalks of grass, lined with fine hair and grass, fas-
tened to the stalks of several reeds at some height from the
ground, of an obconical form, from four to five inches in
depth externally, about three internally, and as much in
breadth at top. Being thus deep,' as Montagu remarks,
* it gives security to the eggs, which would otherwise be
thrown out by the wind.' They are four or five in num-
ber, eight and a half twelfths of an inch long, greyish
brown, faintly dotted and spotted with greenish brown, and
usually having one or two black irregular lines. The
young are fledged by the middle of July.

In a representation of this bird's nest, given in Bolton's
4 Harmonia Ruralis,' the whole is loosely wound about
with woollen yarn, such as the poor people make stockings
of. One procured by Lightfoot had packthread twined
around it.

Sweet records that he once found a nest of this bird's,
with five young ones, fastened up to the tall branches of a
poplar tree that grew at a little distance from the river, in
Brownhouse Lane, Fulham.

HABITS IN CONFINEMENT. 61

The Marsh Reedling, as this bird is sometimes called,
appears to have been first described as a British species by
the Rev. M. Lightfoot, who in 1785 discovered a specimen
on the banks of the river Colne near Uxbridge. Mr.
Bolton, however, says that the bird was known to him
long before that time, although he had no name for it, as
haunting in Yorkshire the rushy places near rivulets, and
greatly resembling the Whitethroat in its actions. ' These
birds,' he continues, ' have also been sent to me from Lan-
cashire, shot on the river Roch. The cock has a sweet
song ; his notes partake of those of the Whitethroat and
those of the Blackcap, and are often repeated with a shak-
ing of the wings and tail while he is perched on some low
bush, not far from the ground.' Montagu has found this
species along the coast of Kent and Sussex, from Sandwich
to Arundel.

Broderip describes the song of this bird as varied and
pleasing, though hurried, like that of the Sedge Warbler.
' Frequently,' he says, * have we heard it when plying the
rod on the banks of the Colne. It sings by night as well
as by day continually, and its loud music, often heard
clearest in the evening twilight or grey dawn, resembles
the notes and voices of several different birds.'

Sweet, who calls this bird the Willow Wren, describes
it as —

An elegant little species, which visits us about the middle of
April, and leaves us again the latter end of September or beginning
of October. In its wild state it feeds entirely on small insects, and
chiefly on the different species of aphis, but it will not refuse small
flies or caterpillars ; it is easily taken in a trap baited with small
caterpillars, or a rose branch covered with aphides, and it will soon
become very tame in confinement. One that I caught in September
was in three days afterwards let out of its aviary into the room to
catch flies, which were numerous at this season. After amusing
itself for some time in catching flies it began singing ; it did the
same several other times when it was let out, and in a few days it
began to sing in the aviary. It soon became so familiar that it
would take flies out of the hand, and when it was out in the room,
if a fly was held towards it, it would fly up and take it from the.
hand. It was also taught to drink milk out of a spoon, by putting
some flies into it ; as soon as it had tasted the milk it was very fond
of it, as most of the birds of this genus are. If the spoon was held

62 A KENTISH BIRD.

towards it, and it was called Sylvia, it would fly up and perch on the
finger or on the handle of the spoon, and drink the milk ; but it
never got so tame as some others, neither was it so expert in catching
flies. Perhaps the reason of this was, it became so very fat in eating
so much bruised hempseed and bread, and milk and bread, that it
cared but little for any other food. These birds are very plentiful
some seasons, flying about from tree to tree, and singing their pretty
soft note, which is not unlike the song of the Kedbonnet, but not so
loud. Whenever any plants are infested with any kind of aphis,
there the Willow Wrens are almost certain to be, often quarrelling
and flying after one another ; and they will even attack other birds
which are much larger than themselves.

If we do not greatly mistake, we have heard this little
warbler giving utterance to its low sweet, although hurried
and desultory song, amid the reeds of the ditches which
intersect the marsh lands, near the coast of the Isle of
Thanet, in Kent, on a summer's evening of July 1862.
This was not far from the ancient church of Reculvers,
whose twin towers, which mariners call ' The Sisters,' form
a conspicuous landmark, and speak to us of the old days of
Roman conquest, and of Saxon rule, of which our pretty
Reedling, singing away among the sedges, had little thought
or care. We strove to catch a glimpse of the songster, but
he continually moved from spot to spot, still keeping him-
self closely concealed ; but we have no doubt that it was
the bird here described.

63

SAVIS WABBLEE.

CHAPTER V.

WARBLERS SAVIS AND GRASSHOPPER WARBLERS, GOLDEN-
CRESTED, FIRE- CRESTED, AND DALMATIAN REGULUS.

Cl AVIS WARBLER (Sylvia luscinoides). — This pretty little
(O bird, which generally measures about live inches and a
half, belongs, like the two last described, to the small
group which frequent moist and shaded situations among
reeds and bushes near water. M. Savi, who first described
it, says it arrives in Tuscany about the middle of April,
and conceals itself among willows and shrubs, creeping
about among the low branches, and feeding on worms and
insects. Of the nest and eggs we have no description.
With us the bird is a very rare visitant ; the first British
specimens were obtained in the fens of Cambridgeshire, in
the spring of 1840. Since then a pair has been obtained
at Saffron Walden, in Essex. Of the peculiar habits of
this bird little or nothing is known ; probably, they are the
same as others of its genus. Its head, neck (above), back,
wings, and tail feathers are reddish brown ; chin and throat
almost white ; front of neck and breast pale brown ; under
parts of the body somewhat darker.

64 THE GRASSHOPPER WARBLER.

GRASSHOPPER WARBLER.

THE GRASSHOPPER WARBLER (Sibilatrix locustclla). —
Sometimes called the Grasshopper Chirper, Cricket Bird,
or Sibilous Brakehopper. About five inches and two-
thirds long ; plumage of the upper parts of a dull olive
brown, with oblong dusky spots, making it look undulated
or waved ; the lower parts pale yellowish brown. It is a
slenderly formed and elegant, although plainly coloured
bird, remarkable especially for its peculiar cry, a shrill
sibilous or shaking sound, like that uttered by the mole
cricket. This bird arrives in the south of England about
the middle of April, and spreads very gradually northward,
not reaching the neighbourhood of Edinburgh until the
beginning of May. Montagu says it is not a plentiful
species, but, probably, appears less so by its habit of con-
cealing itself among furzes, and thick hedges, discovering its
place of concealment only by its singular, cricket-like note,
which is so exactly like that of the mole cricket as scarcely
to be distinguished. We have found it in Hampshire, in
South Wales, and in Ireland, but nowhere so numerous as
on Malmsbury Common, Wiltshire, to which place the males
come about the second week in April. At this time only
they expose themselves upon the top branches of the
furze, and are continually making their singular chirping
notes, their only song. As soon as the females arrive, which

THE GOLD- CROWNED KINGLET. 65

is about ten days after, the males are almost silent till the
dusk of the evening, when they are incessantly crying,
possibly to decoy the larger species of grasshoppers, which
begin their chirpings with the setting sun. Selby says that
the nest of this bird is composed of moss, and the dried
stems of the ladies bed-straw, and bears a great resem-
blance to that of the Petty chaps, or the Whitethroat,
though it is thicker and more compact in texture. The
eggs are four or five in number, of a pinkish grey, with
numerous specks of a deeper tint. The young, when dis-
turbed, immediately quit the nest, although but half Hedged,
trusting, doubtless, to their instinctive power of conceal-
ment. Montagu describes the eggs as of a spotless blueish
white, but he probably mistook them for those of some
other bird, for Yarrell says that they are of a pale reddish
white, freckled over with darker red ; he has seen five or
six sets, and they did not differ in colour. The bird
sometimes lays as many as seven eggs.

White gives us a pretty picture of the habits of this
little bird, saying —

Nothing can be more amusing than its whisper, which seems to
be close by, though at a hundred yards distance, and when close to
your ear is scarce any louder than when a great way off. Had I not
been a little acquainted with insects, and known that the grasshopper
kind is not yet hatched, I should have hardly believed but that it
had been a locusta whispering in the bushes. The country people
laugh when you tell them that it is the note of a bird. It is a most
willful creature, skulking in the thickest part of a bush, and will sing
at a yard distant, provided it be concealed. I was obliged to get a per-
son to go on the. other side where it haunted ; but then it would run,
creeping like a mouse before us, for a hundred yards together,
through the bottom of the thorns ; yet it would not come into fair
sight ; but on a morning early, and when undisturbed, it sings on the
top of a twig, gaping and shivering with its wings.

THE GOLD-CROWNED KINGLET (Regulus auricapillus),
commonly called the Golden- crested Wren, sometimes the
Tidley Goldfinch, or Mary gold Finch. This is the smallest
of British birds, its weight being less than a dram and
a half; but it is one of the most active, and endures the
winter better than very many of the larger kinds. It

£

66 ACTIVITY OF THE REGULUS.

is generally a forest bird, nestling in trees, residing on
them, and not paying an annual visit to the neighbourhood
of houses, like the common Wren ; its bill is very slender,
straight, and awl-shaped, and it feeds on insects, for which

GOLDEN-CHESTED REGULUS.

it is constantly hunting throughout the whole year. It is
a very beautiful bird, the plumage of the upper parts of
the body being of a light yellowish brown ; of the lower
parts brownish grey ; the silky feathers on the top of the
head are of a bright orange colour, with a band on each
side of black ; the inner webs of these feathers are of a
lemon tint. It is this crest, bearing a fanciful resem-
blance to a golden crown, which has given occasion for the
generic term Regulus, applied to the diminutive and lively
birds which bear it, and of which there are three British
species. The one here described is the commonest of the
Eeguli, or Kinglets ; it is found in all wooded parts of the
country, rather plentifully in most places, and very much
so in the larger pine forests, but it is so small, generally so
far from the ground, and always so quick in its motions,
that we can seldom obtain a perfect view of the little
songster, and never a very lengthened one. The command
which these tiny creatures have of themselves is really
astonishing ; they whisk about among the trees more like

ITS MATERNAL CARE. 67

meteors than solid matter, now on this side, now on that,
now above the twig, now hanging inverted under it, the
body never at rest, and the head having generally an
additional motion. The male sings early, though the time
of year varies with the forwardness of the season ; in warm
situations it is in February, and the young are sometimes
fledged in April. The nest of this bird is not easily dis-
covered, being placed among the thick branches of a pine
or some other lofty tree, or hidden between the ivy and the
boll. It is in the shape of a cup, very deep, and neatly
constructed; green moss forms the external part, some-
times interwoven with wool; the interior is very small
feathers, in such considerable quantity that the eggs, ten or
eleven in number, and no bigger than a pea, can scarcely
be discerned.

We copy the following interesting account of this bird's
peculiarities from Broderip's ' Zoological Recreations ' : —

The notes of the Gold-crested Wren, the smallest of British birds,
can hardly be called a song, but they salute the ear in the beginning
of February ; and the beautiful little bird, with its elegant nest and
pale-brown eggs, weighing nine or ten grains each — the bird weighs
no more than eighty — must not pass unnoticed. A pair, which
took possession of a fir-tree in Colonel Montagu's garden, ceased
their song as soon as the young were hatched ; and, when they were
about six days' old, he took the nest and placed it outside his study
window. After the old birds had become familiar with that situa-
tion, the basket was brought within the window, and afterwards
was conveyed to the opposite side of the room. The male had regu-
larly assisted in feeding the young ones as long as they remained
outside the window ; and, though he attended the female after-
wards to that barrier, he never once entered the room, nor brought
any food while the young were in it. But the mother's affections
were not to be so checked. She would enter, and feed her infant
brood at the table where Colonel Montagu was sitting, and even
while he held the nest in his hand. One day he moved his head as
she was sitting on the edge of the nest which he held. She in-
stantly retreated so precipitately, that she mistook the closed for the
open part of the window, dashed herself against the glass, and lay
apparently breathless on the floor for some time.

Neither the fright nor the hurt could, however, overpower her
maternal yearnings. Colonel Montagu had the pleasure of seeing her
recover, and soon return ; and she afterwards frequently fed her nest-
lings while he held the nest in his hand. The little mother's visits
were generally repeated in the space of a minute and a half, or two

68 THE NEST AMONG THE FLOWERS.

minutes, or upon an average, thirty-six times in an hour ; and this
continued for full sixteen hours in a day, which would amount to
seventy- two feeds daily for each, if equally divided between the eight
young ones, amounting, in the whole, to five hundred and seventy-six.
' From examination of the food,' says the Colonel, * which by acci-
dent now and then dropped into the nest, I judged, from those
weighed, that each feed was a quarter of a grain upon an average, so
that each young one was supplied with eighteen grains weight in a
day; and, as the young birds weighed about seventy-seven grains
when they began to perch, they consumed nearly their weight of
food in four days at that time. I could always perceive by the ani-
mation of the brood when the old one was coming ; probably some
low note indicates her approach, and, in an instant, every mouth was
open to receive the insect morsel.'

When we made our annual pilgrimage last year to Mr. Waterer's,
at Knapp Hill, we were attracted — even surrounded as we were
by that wilderness of sweets, that assemblage of all that is rich and
delicate in colour, where the azalias and rhododendrons form one
splendid mass of bloom, almost too beautiful for this earth — by one
of these little birds that had her nest in a yew hedge, skirting one
of the paths. An intelligent lad pointed out the ' procreant cradle,'
ut in his hand, and took out one of the young ones, then nearly
edged. After it had been viewed and admired, for it was very
pretty, as most young birds are not, he replaced the tiny creature,
and, to the enquiry whether the parents would not forsake the nest,
if so disturbed, he replied in the negative, adding that they were
old acquaintance, and ' didn't mind,' for he often took the young
ones out to ' see how they got on.' As soon as the nestling was
restored to its happy home, the parent, who had been watching the
proceedings from a neighbouring rhododendron, gorgeous with
flowers, among which her small bright streaks of a crest still shone
brilliantly, repaired to her family, and covered them with her wings
as if nothing had happened.

Bishop Mant, in describing the month of November, thus
introduces the little Goldcrest : —

And such, with voice so sweet and small,
From oaken twig, the madrigal
Of him the bird of Golden Crest,
And size diminutive, the least
Of Britain's Warblers. To the ear
More frequent through the waning year,
Comes the sweet note from flocks that seek,
From Hyperborean mountains bleak,
Our milder glens. But as they wind
Bound oak or elm's deep-furrowed rind,

p
fl

THE GOLD-CREST AT HOME. 69

Or to the spreading fir-tree wing
Alert their fluttering flight, and cling
Beneath the boughs, the foliage thread,
And creeping to the topmost head,
From branch to branch all noiseless steal,
The trees the tiny form conceal.
The back with ashy-green bedight,
The wings with sable barred, and white ;
The breast's pale yellow mixed with brown,
And fringed with black the orange crown.

To this we may add a picture which we have attempted
of the lively little Kinglet : —

Mid the shadow of the pines, flitting here and there,
Lo ! the Golden-crested Wren glanceth through the air,
Like a fiery meteor, or a shooting star,
The tiniest of creatures that in the forest are ;

Never still a moment — whisking to and fro —
Now amid the topmost boughs, now the roots below ;
Now he perks his feathers up, now he twinks his eye,
Now emits a warble low, now a short, sharp cry.

Lo ! the Golden-crested Wren, he 's a happy bird,
Dwelling 'mid the solitude, where the boughs are stirred
By the gentle breezes stealing in and out,
He their tuneful whispers understands, no doubt.

Soft and solemn music he hath ever near,
Like angelic voicings from a better sphere ;
Kind and tender greetings from his wedded love,
And the gentle cooings of the Cushat Dove.

Hath he not the Magpie, and the laughing Jay,
And the playful Squirrel — all to make him gay ;
Pleasant sights and perfumes — hath he not all these,
And bright gleams of sunshine breaking through the trees ?

As the tufted pine-cones sporteth he among,
Cometh not the Wild Bee murmuring a song,
Where around his dwelling, tassels all of gold
Make it like a palace, gorgeous to behold ?

When the tempest riseth, and the winds roar loud,
And the haughty pine-trees unto earth are bowed,
Lo ! secure he lieth in his feathered nest,
Fearing nought of danger — perfectly at rest.

Yes, he leads a pleasant life — doth the Crested Wren,
Far away from noisy town, and the haunts of men.
If no duty bound me — were I free to roam — •
Gladly would I visit him in his sylvan home.

70

THE FIRE-CRESTED REGULUS.

FIRE-CRESTED REGULUS.

THE FIRE-CROWNED KINGLET (Regulus ignicapillus).—
This species is about the same size as the previous one,
that is, nearly four inches in length ; in form and colour-
ing it is also very similar, but has a distinction in an
additional dusky band on each side of the head. British
naturalists have had few opportunities of observing the
habits of this bird, which are described by foreign authors
as similar to those of the Gold-crest, except that it does not
form large flocks, as that species frequently does. In this
country it has only been now and then taken as a straggler,
the first specimen shot was in the autumn of 1832.
The other instances of its occurrence mentioned have all
been on the eastern coast, whither the birds have probably
been driven, in the course of their autumnal migrations
southward. Temminck, who describes this bird as common
in the Belgian provinces, says, * I have never heard the
song of the Fire-crest, but have no doubt of its differing
from the others ; the call-note I can readily distinguish
among a host of the common ; it is shorter, not so shrill,
and pitched in a different key, that, to one well versed in
the language of birds, is easily discovered. I have no
doubt but the Fire-crest would be found early in autumn,

THE DALMATIAN REGULUS.

71

if diligently sought for on our south-eastern coast by those
well conversant with its notes, without which knowledge
it would be difficult to find it ; when within a few yards,
this bird is readily distinguished by the white mark above
the eyes.'

DALMATIAN REGULUS.

THE DALMATIAN REGULUS (Eegulus modestus). — Another
of these beautiful little birds is here figured. With us it
is a very rare species, a single specimen only having been
shot on the coast of Northumberland, in September, 1838.
This is described as having the whole of the upper plumage
greenish yellow ; on the centre of the crown of the head
is a streak of paler ; a light lemon- coloured streak extends
over the eye, from the base of the bill to the occiput ; a
short streak of the same colour passes beneath the eye, and
a narrow dusky band passes through the eye, and reaches the
termination of the auriculars. The under parts are pale yellow,
the ridge of the wing bright lemon colour, wing feathers dusky,
edged with pale yellow, becoming broader on the secondaries,
two conspicuous bands of pale lemoncolour cross the coverts.
The person who shot this, says : ' Its manners, as far as I
had an opportunity of observing them, were so like those
of the Golden-crested Wren, that at first I mistook it foi
that species. It was continually in motion, flitting from

72 A GROUP OF WARBLERS.

place to place in search of insects on umbelliferous plants,
and such other herbage as the bleak banks of the North-
umberland coast affords. Such a situation could not be
at all suited to the habits of this species, and there can be
little doubt that it had arrived on the coast previous to, or
immediately after, its autumnal migrations. This bird is
extremely rare on the Continent.

As we here take leave of the Warblers, we may as well
conclude the chapter with a few lines by Mant, in which
several of those previously described are introduced. After
speaking of the Swallows, the Bishop, who ought to be
canonized as St. Valentine, says: —

Nor, April, dost thou fail to bring

To greet thee birds of shorter wing,

Infirm of flight, yet such as trill

Melodious from their tender bill

Sweet music. If the Whitethroat's lay,

Flitting from hedgerow spray to spray,

Or gently mounting through the air,

To mark his bosom, silvery fair,

Invite us ; or, from loftiest tree,

With brisk, unwearied melody,

Of sable breast and snowy head,

And quivering tail of crimson red,

The slumbering morn the Redstart wakes ;

Or, 'mid the groves and tangled brakes,

The Wood Wren, from his yellow throat,

Chaunts forth his sharp and shivering note

Peculiar ; or his whispered song,

The Warbler, olive-brown, among

Thicket or furze, or sheltering grass ;

While untaught peasants, as they pass,

Deem the loud whisper of his bill

Is but the cricket's chirrup shrill.

73

CHAPTER VI.

STONE-CHATS, HEDGE AND ALPINE ACCENTORS, WHINCHAT,
BLACK-HEADED BUSHCHAT, WHEATEAR.

THE Saxicoline Birds, or Stonechats, and their allied
species, form a tolerably large group, some of which
are placed in other families by authors who do not recognise
the principles of arrangement which have guided Mac-
gillivray. ' The Saxicoline^ he says, ' reside chiefly in stony
places and open pastures, especially those covered with
small shrubs ; but some of them frequent woods. On the
ground they advance by hopping. Their ordinary flight is
moderately rapid, and somewhat undulated. They search
for food on the ground, in vales, or among thickets, and
often pursue insects on wing. Their nests are large, and
lined with soft materials, and the prevailing colour of their
eggs is blue. Most of them are migratory, and those which
are permanently resident, shift their quarters, frequenting the
neighbourhood of houses in winter.'

Closely allied to the Thrushes and Larks, and blending
directly with the Warblers, they present no abrupt and de-
cided characters which could enable a student at once to refer
a species to the family, and for this reason it is that their
position has ever been somewhat variable and uncertain.
In this country we have five genera, represented by nine
species, which we now proceed to describe.

THE HEDGE CHANTER (Accentor modularis), more com-
monly called the Hedge Sparrow, Hedge Warbler, or
Dunnock ; sometimes Dick Dunnock or Shuffle-wing. A
familiar, gentle, and modest little bird this, with sober
plumage of mingled grey and brown, quiet, unobtrusive
manners, and a weak but pleasantly modulated song ;
common enough in all our gardens, fields, and hedges, and

74 AN EARLY BUILDER.

perhaps to some extent despised, because it is so common,
and, above all, so modest. Its nest is plundered by every
schoolboy, and its glossy greenish blue eggs, without spot
or stain, form the chief ornaments of every rustic oological
collection. Indeed, so many of these eggs are taken every
year that, as Knapp observes, i It is surprising how any of
the race are remaining, especially when we consider the
many casualties to which the old birds are exposed from their
tameness, and the young that are hatched from their situa-
tions.' This bird is a very early builder ; it makes its nest
of mosses, twigs, and the fibres of roots, lines it with hair,
fur, or wool, and places it in the bottom of a bush or hedge,
very commonly before the leaves have made much progress ;
so that being large, from four and a-half, to five inches in
diameter, it is easily seen and rifled of its contents, and
year after year the little bird continues to build, and its
numbers appear as numerous as though it were subjected to
no molestation and spoliation and persecution from man.

The celebrated American ornithologist, Audubon, was
an admirer of the despised Hedge Sparrow, and called it l a
beautiful little bird,' i referring,' as Macgillivray remarks,
t more to its moral than its physical character.' Perhaps
so ; yet it is beautiful outwardly, we think ; its sober tints
are prettily blended, its shape is graceful, and its motions
easy and elegant. Its song, as Neville Wood says, t although
unobtrusive as its plumage, is remarkable for the sweetness
of its expression ; it is, however, short and deficient in power.
By the careless observer it probably passes wholly unnoticed,
though it certainly deserves the commendation of the bird-
fancier.' Bishop Mant speaks of

The Hedge-row Chanter's chirrup, sharp
As twanging string of lute or harp.

But the note is rather soft and sweet than sharp. Bechstein
includes it in his Cage Birds, and speaks of it as gay and
amusing in confinement, and easily tamed. ' The notes
are usually uttered from the middle, or top of a hedge, or
low bank, and occasionally from the lower branches of
trees. The whole song appears to consist of but two pas-
sages, and these are commonly uttered without a pause.

THE INCUBATING FROG. 75

At a short distance it is inaudible, but when heard
close, forms a very pleasing melody, especially when
listened to at early dawn, or towards the dusk of evening.
Though it forms no part of the vernal chorus, the true
lover of nature always hails it with delight, especially as it
is one of the first of the family to break the universal
silence which had prevailed during the dreary and mono-
tonous winter months. The song is frequently heard as
early as the middle of February, and towards the close of
the following month the happy pair proceed to prepare for
the business of incubation.'

Thus, says Neville Wood, who states that this bird has
generally second, and sometimes third broods in a season,
which are, of course, better concealed than the first, owing
to the growth of the foliage, and thus the numbers of the
birds are kept up. Two or three instances of the Dunnock's
building in outhouses have fallen under the author's
observation. One of them was among bushes of various
kinds, which had been rooted up, and thrown into a corner
of the garden-house. In this instance the female had
hatched her young ; but, when they were about a week
old, the place was, contrary to orders, locked up from
Saturday evening to Monday morning, and the female being
excluded, of course the young brood perished. In another
instance, the nest was built on a bundle of pea-sticks in an
outbuilding, and the young were hatched and reared suc-
cessfully. Once the nest was fixed on the stone of a garden
roller, which had long been in a little-frequented spot
unused. But the funniest circumstance in the author's
experience of this bird was finding on its nest in a lavender
bush a fat and full-grown frog, gravely seated on the nest,
containing five Heclge-dunnock's eggs. The reptile kept its
place for some hours, as if it meant to hatch the eggs, and
was only turned off by main force. Probably disgusted at
such an intrusion, the parent birds never returned to their
charge.

Insects of various kinds, larvae, and the seeds of different
grasses, constitute the food of this species. It does not eat
green food, nor fruit, and is therefore of unmixed benefit to
the gardener. Again, to quote Wood : —

76 THE ALPINE ACCENTOR.

It is almost wholly a ground or bush bird, being seldom observed
in trees, except during the breeding season, when any one is near its
nest. The hedge is, likewise, one of its favourite haunts, and the
interstices of the thickest of these it threads with ease and agility in
quest of its food. Its flight is low, and never long protracted ; and in
flying from bush to bush a loose shuffle of the wings and tail is fre-
quently observed, and especially in summer ; whence the expressive
popular name, ' Shuffle-wing/ by which the bird is known in many
parts of the country. Whilst singing, also, the same kind of quiver-
ing motion of the wings and tail is employed, as well as in darting on
a worm or caterpillar on the ground, in hopping along which it has
likewise a peculiar habit of flirting up its tail, and turning quickly
from side to side. All its habits are, in fact, simple and unaffected,
insomuch, that it either passes wholly unobserved by the ordinary
observer, or is mistaken for the House Sparrow.

THE ALPINE ACCENTOR.

THE ALPINE CHANTER (Accentor Alpinus). — This is a rare
visitant, about which we need say but little. It resembles
the Hedge Sparrow in its shape and general appearance, but
is somewhat larger, generally measuring about seven inches
in length: it is, too, somewhat differently coloured, and more
definitely marked, having a white throat, with triangular
black spots, and wing coverts barred with white ; the greater
part of the body is light brownish grey, the back having
dusky spots, and the sides a reddish tint. Bechstein says that

THE WHINCHAT. 77

this bird is found upon the mountains which skirt the Alps,
in Switzerland, and Southern Germany. In those pasture
lands it is as abundant as the Skylark with us. In winter
it visits the valleys, and frequents barns near villages,
where it is commonly caught in great numbers. They
generally perch upon the ground, where they run as swiftly
as the Wagtails, jump upon stones, and but rarely perch
upon trees ; their song is pleasing, but anxious and melan-
choly ; they comport themselves elegantly, and in hop-
ping frequently move the tail and wings ; they feed upon
seeds and insects, and build upon the ground, occasionally
in the fissures of rocks, and are thence sometimes called
Rock Larks.

WEOrCHAT.

THE WHIN BUSHCHAT (Saxtcola, or Fruticicola ruletra),
sometimes called the Whin, or Furze Chat. The plumage
of this little bird is chiefly of a bright yellowish red colour,
with blackish brown markings. There is a yellowish white
band over the eye, a patch on the wing, a band on each
side of the neck, and the base of the tail are also white ;
the length of the bird is about five inches and a quarter ;
it is but a summer resident in our island, seldom arriving
on the coast till the middle of April, nor is it dispersed over
the country till the end of that month, or the beginning of

78 A FEATHERED HERMIT.

May. Like the rest of the Chat family, it is of a solitary,
unsocial disposition, and is said by authors to equal its
congeners in shyness. It is wholly devoid of the lively
expression of the Fallow Chat, both as regards plumage and
general appearance, being in fact rather a sluggish, inactive
bird. Sometimes it will sit on the top of a hedge, or whin
bush, for an hour together, looking half-stupid, half-melan-
choly, and then, as if astonished at its own inactivity, begins
to make up for lost time, either pouring forth its low, sweet
strains, or assisting in the household concerns. It is not so
eminently a bird of the stony waste as the Fallow Chat, but
seldom approaches the habitations of man, inhabiting com-
mons abounding with furze or whin bushes. Here it builds
its nest, either in the long grass, or in a low thick bush.
The eggs, five or six in number, are of a clear and beautiful
blueish green. There is nothing remarkable about its song ;
it is sweet and melodious, though desultory, and uttered in
rather a hurried manner. It is not very regular in the
time of its departure, being influenced a great deal by the
weather, but generally takes flight in October. The food
of this bird are small slugs, snails, worms, and flies, foi
which it searches most actively morning and evening.

Shy bird of the common, that makest thy home

In the furze bush, all spangled with blossoms of gold,

Where seldom the wandering citizens come,
Or rustics approach, thy retreat to behold ;

That singest thy song in the wilderness wild,
To the burrowing Kabbit, and lonely Pee-whcct,

Like a hermit no more by youth's feelings beguiled,
Who owneth the pleasures of life are a cheat.

Thou buildest thy nest, and thou rearest thy young,

Far away from the dim habitations of men,
The blue sky is o'er, like a canopy, hung,

Around thee is mountain, and valley, and glen,
Serenity broods, like a dove, o'er thy nest,

Peace smiles on thine offspring, and whispers delight ;
Thou hast not a care to deprive thee of rest,

There comes not a sorrow thy pleasure to blight.
With no brilliant plumage thy form is bedecked,

The eye and the hand of the spoiler to tempt.
Thou dost not, like some, the bright sunbeams reflect,

And art from the dangers that wait them exempt.

THE BLACK-HEADED BUSHCHAT. 79

But seldom thy wings through the yielding air sweep,
But seldom thy notes in the azure dome swell,

Thou art not ambitious, but lovest to keep

On the earth that hath fed thee and nourished thee well.

And when the October gales whistle around,

Away to the sunny south thou must be gone,
As here no subsistence for thee can be found,

When winter hath put his white vestiture on.

Thus ever the humble, the lowly, the meek,
Find safety in flight when the tempest prevails,

While the haughty and proud by resistance may seek
To bear, or to vanquish, whatever assails.

THE BLACK-HEADED BUSHCHAT (Saxicola, or Fruticicola
rubicola), sometimes called Stonechat, or Stonesmich,
Stonechatter, Blacky-top. Very like the Whinchat in
form, a little larger, and having a black head and throat,
brownish black back and upper parts, brownish red breast ;
sides of neck, spot on the wings, and base of tail, white.
The name Stonechat has been applied to this bird im-
properly, as it does not frequent stony or rocky places, its
usual haunts being commons, heaths, and hill pastures,
where whin, juniper, and other low bushes abound. Ex-
cept that it is a permanent resident in this country, and
only migrates from place to place, the description given
of the habits of the Whinchat will exactly suit this. ' If
you watch its motions (says Macgillivray) you will perceive
that it flits about by short starts with a direct flight, perches
on a twig, jerks its body and tail, utters at intervals a sharp
note, resembling the syllable snack, and then flies off in
pursuit of an insect, creeps among the foliage, and some-
times hops along the ground, and takes its stand on a turf,
or other eminence.7 In severe weather it may be sometimes
seen about the gardens, and even at the doors of cottages,
apparently as tame and familiar as the Robin. It has a
short, modulated, and not unpleasant song, which is fre-
quently performed while the bird is hovering over a bush,
probably a whin or other shrub under which its nest is
placed. This is made in April, of stems and leaves of
grasses, interwoven with moss, and lined with fine straws,
fibrous roots, hair, wool, and sometimes feathers. The

80 THE WHEATEAR.

eggs, five or six in number, are of a light greenish blue
colour, marked with pale brown toward the larger end.
Their average length is eight-twelfths of an inch.
Bishop Mant bids us mark —

How on wild moor or sterile heath,

Bright with the golden furze, beneath

O'erhanging bush or shelving stone,

The little Stonechat dwells alone,

Or near his brother of the whin ;

Almost the foremost to begin

His pretty love-song's tinkling sound,

And nest low seated on the ground,

Not heedless of the winding pass

That leads him through the secret grass.

TVHEATEAR OB STONECHAT.

THE WHEATEAR OR WHITE-RUMPED STONECHAT (Saxicola
cenanthe). This bird, which is the largest of the British
Chats, is known by the several names of the White-rump,
White-tail, Fallow-smich, Fallow-chat, Stonechat, Stone-
chack, and Wheatear, the latter name being derived, asBlyth
supposes, from the peculiar note of the bird, which resembles
the words wheel-jar, wheet, jar-jar ; this author also opines
that the term Stonechat was given to it on account of the
noise it makes while hopping about the stones. It is one of

AN ARTFUL BUILDER. 81

the earliest of our summer visitants, and is generally dis-
persed through the country, betaking itself to sandy downs,
pastures, and stony slopes ; hence its name, Fallow- chat.
Knapp remarks : —

I have seen the Wheatear with nesting materials in its bill, and
have had its eggs, though rarely, brought to me. It is remarkable
that during the breeding season, notwithstanding its numbers, and
the little concealment which its haunts afford, how rarely its nests
are found. Its principal place of resort is the South Downs, in
Sussex ; and it appears from the accounts of the most experienced
and credible persons of that county, from whom I have my in-
formation, that the females are performing their duties of incubation
during the month of March ; so that at that time scarcely any but
male birds are visible, of which hundreds are flying about ; while
the females, with their families, appear early in May, and are cap-
tured afterwards in great numbers : yet the oldest shepherds have
seldom seen their nest ! But, in fact, no bird conceals its nest with
more artifice than the Wheatear ; and in consequence of this circum-
stance, and the retired places in which it fixes its summer residence,
very many of the young ones are produced. This summer (June
15, 1828) I appointed a boy to watch two hen birds to their retreat,
and after some hours of vigilance he succeeded, and gave me notice ;
one had made her nest deep in the crevice of a stone quarry, so
carefully hidden by projecting fragments as not to be observed from
without, until part of the rock was removed : her fabric was large,
and rudely constructed with dried bents, scraps of shreds, feathers,
and rubbish, collected about the huts on the Down, and contained
four pale blue eggs, about the size of those of the Skylark. The
other bird had descended through the interstices of some rather
large loose stones, as a mouse would have done, and then proceeded
laterally to a hollow space in a bank, against which the stones were
laid ; and so deep had she penetrated, that many of the stones had
to be removed before we could discover her treasure ; as no appear-
ances led to any suspicion of a nest, it would never have been
detected but for our watchfulness. With us the Wheatear stays
only to hatch her brood. When this is effected, and the young
sufficiently matured, it leaves us entirely, and by the middle of
September not a bird is found in their summer stations. They pro-
bably retire to the uplands on the sea-coasts, as we hear of them as
late as November in these places, where it is supposed they find
some peculiar insect food, required by them in an adult state, and
not found, or only sparingly, in their breeding stations, in which
the appropriate food of their young is probably more abundant.
Thus united on the coasts, they can take their flight when the
wind or other circumstances favour their passage, all of them depart-
ing upon the approach of winter.

82 FRIGHTENED AT SHADOWS.

1 St. James, the 25th of July,' says Broderip, l is a
dark day in the Wheatear's calendar, for then the shepherds
take the field against the devoted birds, beginning on that
day to lay their traps cut in the turf, and covered by a
severed portion of the same, which are all in full play
by the first of August. The slightest alarm, even the
shadow of the passing clouds, will make the birds run
under the shelter of the severed turf, and into one of the
two twisted horse-hair nooses there set. The numbers cap-
tured annually are almost incredible. One shepherd has
been known to take eighty-four dozen in a day, and Pennant
recorded that about 1840 dozen were annually snared at
Eastbourne. The inns of all the Sussex coast are then
redolent of these savoury victims ; and, sooth to say, their fat
and flavour are superlative.'

The following lines by Charlotte Smith are addressed to
this bird : —

From what deep-sheltered solitude,
"Where in some quarry, wild and rude,
The feathered parent reared her brood ;

Why, pilgrim, did you brave
The upland winds, so bleak and keen,
To seek these hills, whose slopes between,
Wide stretched in grey expanse, is seen

The ocean's toiling wave ?

To take you, shepherd boys prepare
The hollow turf, the wiry snare ;
Of those weak terrors well aware

That bid you vainly dread
The shadows floating o'er the downs,
Or murmuring gale that round the stones
Of some old beacon, as it moans,

Scarce moves the thistle's head.

And if a cloud obscure the sun,

With faint and fluttering heart you run,

And to the pitfall you should shun

Resort in trembling haste ;
While in that dewy cloud so high
The Lark, sweet minstrel of the sky,
Sings in the morning's beaming eye,

And bathes his spotted breast.

83

THE ROBIN.

CHAPTEE VII.

ROBINS AND REDSTARTS.

rilHE ROBIN (Erithacus Rubecula), sometimes called Red-
JL breast, Robinet, and Ruddock. This familiar bird, which
is one of the commonest of all the British species, needs no
description. It is seen and heard everywhere, and all the
year through, although less in the summer than the winter,
because, during the leafy season, it remains very much in
the woodlands, and only comes to man for food and shelter
when its natural supply begins to fail, and the naked boughs
afford no covering. Then is realised the picture drawn by
Wordsworth : —

The Redbreast, sacred to the household gods,
Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky,
In joyless woods and thorny thickets leaves
His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man
His annual visit. Half afraid, he first
Against the window beats, then brisk alights
On the warm hearth, and hopping o'er the floor
Eyes all the smiling family askance,
And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is,
Till, more familiar grown, the table crumbs
Attract his slender feet.

84 BOBBY IN SPRING.

But we are beginning where we ought to leave off. Our
little friend has a world of cares to go through, and a
busy active life to lead, for several months before he is
driven from his woodland haunts to seek the company of
man,

By chill "blasts sweeping through the forests bare,
And gathering mists, and clouds that hide the sun,
And dull and dreary prospects everywhere,
Telling the reign of winter hath begun.

Let us first, then, look at Bobby in his vernal aspect.
Pert and busy and cheerful is he at all times, but never
so much so as in early spring, when i love swells his breast
and animates his strain,' and a forecast of coming family
cares and duties adds to his sense of importance, which is
always sufficiently great. Gloomy it is, and cold and bleak,
in the middle, it may be, of the reign of stormy March,
when Eobinet, having found a mate, begins with her the
task of constructing a habitation : hither and thither the
little birds flit in search of materials, the cock ever and
anon pausing upon some yet-naked spray to warble his
love-strain ; sweet it is and mellow, although not loud
and varied as that of many other feathered songsters.
Now he flies to the ground, hops a little way, then stands
with his head on one side, then starts forward and picks up
a piece of moss, or a feather, or something suitable
for the nest he and his partner are intent on making ; for
her ear his song is intended, as is the lively chirp of
encouragement which he ever and anon emits. Soon the
nest is formed in the hollow of a bank, under a hedge or
bush, or a small tuft of herbage. It is rather loosely made,
of moss and decayed leaves, and blades of grass at the
bottom ; the middle layer is of finer grasses, leaves, and
moss ; and the lining is of hair and wool, a quarter of an
inch or so thick. In this are deposited five or six reddish
white eggs, freckled with light purplish red very sparsely at
the small, but thickly at the larger end ; they are five or six
in number, and average about three-quarters of an inch in
length.

An English naturalist of the sixteenth century, named

A MARVELLOUS BUILDER. 85

Turner, has given an extraordinary account of this lively
little builder's mode of proceeding on such occasions. He
says that t The Robinet, which hath a red breast, both in
summer and winter nestleth as far as possible from towns
and cities, in the thickest copses and orchards, after this
manner. When she hath found many oak leaves, she
constructeth a nest, and when built, covereth it in with arch-
work, leaving only one way for entrance, for which purpose
she buildeth with leaves a long porch before the doorway,
the which when going out to feed she covereth up with
leaves.' And then, as if there might be some doubt of
the accuracy of this statement, he adds : — * These things
which I now write, I observed when a boy, though I do
not deny that she may zndificate otherwise ; and if any one
curious in such matters hath observed her build differently,
it will be a gratification to me to learn the same ; I have
related candidly that which I have seen.' And certainly
a marvellous thing it was ; quite a phenomenon. If the
Robin built in that way two centuries ago, she or he has
quite forgotten the art now. We never find that she
makes a domed nest, or builds a porch to the entrance.
She certainly does * Nidificate' (nidificate we should say)
otherwise now, and sometimes chooses strange places for
building and rearing her young, often where we should
least expect to find them. Although it is generally
away in the copse, or hedge, or greenwood wild, yet,
as Mant says, —

No less the Redbreast makes his bower

For nestling in the vernal hour,

In thatch, or root of aged tree,

Moss-grown, or arching cavity

Of bank, or garden's refuse heap,

Or where the broad-leaved tendrils creep

Of ivy, and an arbour spread

O'er trellised porch or cottage-shed.

So, as we pass the homestead round,

At every change of place the sound

Of Robin's voice salutes the ear,

Carolling to his partner near ;

And with sure gaze the observant eye

May Robin's hidden home descry.

86 NOT EASILY SCARED.

We have asserted that this bird selects at times singular
localities for its nest ; let us adduce an instance or two.
Jesse relates in his < Gleanings/ that William the Fourth,
when residing in Bushy Park, had a part of the foremast
of the Victory, against which Lord Nelson was standing
when he received his fatal death-wound, deposited in a
small temple in the grounds of Bushy House, from which it
was afterwards removed to the upper end of the dining-
room, with a bust of Nelson upon it. A large shot had
completely passed through this part of the mast, and while
it was in the temple, a pair of Eobins had built their nest
in the shot-hole, and reared a brood of young ones. It
was impossible to witness this little occurrence without
reflecting on the scene of blood and strife of war which had
occurred to produce so snug and peaceable a retreat for a
nest of harmless Eobins.

During the completion of the Crystal Palace at Syden-
ham, in 1854, several Eobins lived in the interior of the
building, and made their nests in the holes of the large
roots which were employed in the formation of the banks
at the south end, notwithstanding the constant passing and
repassing of the workmen, and the almost deafening noise
which was continually going on.

One pair, we are told, chose a small cottage in which
potatoes were kept, and which closely adjoined a black-
smith's shop, and despite the noise of the forge, and the
frequent visits of the owners, they built their nest in a
child's covered cart which hung against the wall over the
fireplace. Much curiosity was excited by the circumstance,
and the birds had many visitors, which did not seem to alarm
them. They raised their first brood, and made a new nest
on a shelf on the opposite wall of the room, close to a
mouse-trap ; here they sat in state, and again held a sort
of levee with the most perfect unconcern. The second
brood dismissed, they set about building a third nest, on
another shelf in a different corner of the same room, l and
there,' says the narrator, a correspondent of the ' Field
Naturalist's Magazine,' * on their mossy bed, on a bundle
of papers, on the 21st of June, were four half-fledged nest-
lings, which the hen was feeding, while a party was watch-

FOOD IN SUMMER. 87

ing the proceedings, and the cock bird contenting himself
with looking on from the outside.'

Wood observes that i This bird is by no means easily
disturbed in its nest, and especially when thus built in
holes of walls, it will allow itself to be handled without
deserting. On one occasion especially, I remember to have
caught a female on her nest, six times in a single day, and I
even went so far as to cage her for a few minutes, and yet she
hatched her eggs successfully. My friend Dr. Liverpool
informs me that he has known this bird to sit so close, as
to allow herself to be removed with her nest and eggs into
a cage, where she continued sitting until she died from
starvation. From this Dr. L. infers she had been accus-
tomed to be supplied with food on the nest by the
male.'

During the summer the food of the Redbreast consists
almost entirely of worms, larvae, and insects; and this, accord-
ing to Macgillivray, is how he forages : — l There he stands
under the hedge as if listening or survey ing the neighbour-
hood, his body inclined, his wings drooping, his head a little
raised and his full and humid eye beaming with a mild
lustre. Now he starts, hops forward a short way, and picks up
something which he has espied, resumes his former attitude,
observes a worm, partially protruded and wriggling among
the grass, attacks it, and wrenches off a goodly piece, which
he divides into morsels and swallows. And thus he goes
on all day, taking matters quite coolly, seldom appearing
in a hurry, but gleaning the small dainties which the
bounteous hand of Providence has spread around for his
use. When disturbed, he flies into the hedge, or perches
on the wall, where he stands for a while, and then perhaps
amuses himself with a sweet little song. Although simple,
and composed of few notes, this melody varies consider-
ably at different times and seasons.'

In 1843 there was to be seen, said a local paper, in the
house of Mr. Brook, surgeon, at Stansted, in Essex, a
Robin's nest built between the candlestick -on the mantel-
piece and the kitchen fire-place ; it had four eggs, on which
the old bird was sitting. Whether she hatched her brood
and reared them in this singular place, we did not learn.

88 SONG OF THE ROBIN

Another curious spot chosen by a Eobin for building, was in
the reading-desk of North Molton Church, Devon, imme-
diately under the bible and prayer-book. The Eev. W.
Burdett wrote these lines for the occasion : —

Sweet social bird ! confiding in our care,
Who here so oft frequent God's house of prayer,
Here sheltered from the hands of reckless youth,
Thy nest was built beneath the word of Truth.
How choice ! how wise ! May all who worship here
Now learn a lesson from thy fostering care,
Now follow in the path which thou hast trod,
And rear their young ones in the house of God ;
Here train them in the way that they should go,
That with increasing years their peace may flow,
'Till heaven at last be their eternal rest,
With Jesus and his saints for ever blest.

' The song of the Robin,' says Neville Wood, 'is not very
loud, but it is remarkable for its sweet, soft, and melancholy
expression. In summer, as I have observed, it is little
noticed, but in autumn it is peculiarly delightful, though I
am certain of the truth of Selby's supposition, that the
notes which are heard in autumn and winter, proceed from
the throats of the young of the year. Nor do I ever re-
member to have heard the adult bird singing in its natural
state, during the inclement seasons. But when confined to
the house, or in a cage, both old and young will carol away
right merrily. In softness and sweetness, I think the song
of the Eobin Eedbreast is unexcelled by any of our other
sylvan choristers, though as a whole it is surpassed by
many. Witness, for instance — leaving the Brake Nightin-
gale, "the leader of the vernal chorus," out of the question
— the ethereal strains of the Garden Fauvet, the Blackcap
Fauvet, the Woodlark, and many others. But none of these,
no, not even the Brake Nightingale itself, possesses that
ineffably sweet expression, which we must pronounce to be
peculiar to our admirable favourite.'

The following lines by the poet of Dartmoor, Carring-
ton, ought to .find a place in every description of the
Eobin : —

Sweet bird of Autumn, silent is the song
Of earth and sky, that in the summer hour

CHANGES WITH THE SEASONS. . 89

Eang joyously, and thou alone art left

Sole minstrel of the dull and sinking year.

But trust me, Warbler, lovelier lay than this.

Which now thou pourest to the chilling eve,

The joy-inspiring Summer never knew.

The very children love to hear thy tale,

And talk of thee in many a legend wild,

And bless thee for those touching notes of thine !

Sweet household bird, that infancy and age

Delight to cherish, thou dost well repay

The frequent crumbs that generous hands bestow ;

Beguiling man with minstrelsy divine,

And cheering his dark hours, and teaching him

Through cold and gloom, Autumn and Winter, HOPE,

Who feeds the fowls of air, shall He forget

His own elect ones, who their every want

To Him in prayer and thankfulness make known ?

To this we may add some curious observations upon
the changes noticeable in the song of the Robin in accord-
ance with the atmospheric changes of the seasons : — * Few
observers of nature can have passed unheeded the sweet-
ness and peculiarity of the song of the Robin, and its various
indications with regard to the atmospheric changes; the
mellow liquid notes of spring and summer, the melancholy
sweet pipings of autumn, and the jerking chirps of winter.
In spring, when about to change his winter song for the
vernal, he warbles for a short time, in a strain so unusual,
as at first to startle and puzzle even those ears most expe-
rienced in the notes of birds. He may be considered as
part of the naturalist's barometer. On a summer evening,
though the weather may be in an unsettled and rainy state,
he sometimes takes his stand on the topmost twig, or on
the " house top," singing cheerfully and sweetly. When
this is observed, it is an unerring promise of succeeding
fine days. Sometimes, though the atmosphere is dry and
warm, he may be seen melancholy, chirping, and brooding
in a bush, or low in a hedge : this promises the reverse of
his merry lay and exalted station.'

Nor should Graham e's poetical picture of the manners
and habits of our brisk little favourite be omitted : —

How simply unassuming is that strain !

It is the Redbreast's song, the friend of man.

90 DESCRIBED BY GRAHAME.

High is his perch, but humble is his home,

And well concealed. Sometimes within the sound

Of heartsome mill-clacks, where the spacious door

White-dusted, tells him plenty reigns around,

Close at the root of brier-bush, that o'erhangs

The narrow stream, with shealings bedded white,

He fixes his abode, and lives at will.

Oft near some single cottage, he prefers

To rear his little home ; there, pert and spruce,

He shares the refuse of the goodwife's churn,

Which kindly on the wall for him she leaves :

Below her lintel oft he lights, then in

He boldly flits, and fluttering loads his bill,

And to his young the yellow treasure bears.

Not seldom does he neighbour the low roof

Where tiny elves are taught : a pleasant spot

It is, well fenced from winter blast, and screened

By high o'er-spreading boughs from summer sun.

Before the door a sloping green extends

No farther than the neighbouring cottage-hedge,

Beneath whose boutree shade a little well

Is scooped, so limpid, that its guardian trout

(The wonder of the lesser stooping wights)

Is at the bottom seen. At noontide hour,

The imprisoned throng, enlarged, blithesome rush forth

To sport the happy interval away ;

While those from distance come, upon the sward,

At random seated, loose their little stores ; ^

In midst of them poor Kedbreast hops unharmed,

For they have read, or heard, and wept to hear,

The story of the Children in the Wood ;

And many a crumb to Robin they will throw.

Others there are that love, on shady banks

Retired, to pass the summer days : their song,

Among the birchen boughs, with sweetest fall,

Is warbled, pausing, then resumed more sweet,

More sad; that, to an ear grown fanciful,

The babes, the wood, the man, rise in review,

And Robin still repeats the tragic line.

But should the note of flute, or human voice,

Sound through the grove, the madrigal at once

Ceases ; the warbler flits from branch to branch,

And, stooping, sidelong turns his listening head.

Long as this extract is, we are strongly tempted to pass
on from the leafy spring-time to the bare desolate winter,
and continue the description of the Scottish poet —

A SACRED BIRD. 91

Of all the tuneful tribes, the Redbreast sole
Confides himself to man ; others sometimes
Are driven within our lintel-posts by storms,
And, fearfully, the sprinkled crumbs partake :
He feels himself at home. When lours the year,
He perches on the village turfy copes,
And, with his sweet but interrupted trills,
Bespeaks the pity of his future host.
But long he braves the season, ere he change
The heaven's grand canopy for man's low home ;
Oft is he seen, when fleecy showers bespread
The house tops white, on the thawed smiddy roof,
Or in its open window he alights,
And, fearless of the clang, and furnace glare,
Looks round, arresting the uplifted arm,
While on the anvil cools the glowing bar.
But when the season roughens, and the drift
Flies upward, mingling with the falling flakes,
In whirl confused, then on the cottage floor
He lights, and hops and flits from place to place,
Restless at first, till, by degrees, he feels
He is in safety : fearless then he sings
The winter day ; and when the long dark night
Has drawn the rustic circle round the fire,
Waked by the dinsome wheel he trims his plumes,
And, on the distaff perched, chaunts soothingly
His summer song ; or, fearlessly, lights down
Upon the basking sheep-dog's glossy fur ;
Till, 'chance, the herd-boy, at his supper mess,
Attract his eye, then on the milky rim
Brisk he alights, and picks his little share.

Many boys who plunder the nests of other birds, hold
that of the Robin sacred. Mudie, in the following passage,
gives us the reason for this : — i When the wind of winter is
up — when the forest howls to its fury, driving the
twitterers from the sprays, and forcing them to take shelter
in clefts of the trees and crannies of the earth — when the
sky is darkened by the congregated flakes of snow, which
throw their protecting mantle over the earth, but compel
the inhabitants of the cottage to remain within, and merely
eye the storm which rages without — it is then that the
door is left ajar, and the little Eedbreast comes hopping in
for his crumbs, welcome and well-beloved by the very-
boys that make the plundering of nests a portion of their

92 A FAMILIAR BIRD.

summer's sport ; and the memory of his winter visit of
familiarity, his chirp of gratitude for his pittance, and the
early song with which he serenades his benefactors before
taking his seasonal departure for the coppice, remains ; and
the boys spare the Kobin's nest, in order that the winter
visitant may return again with confidence.'

This agrees with the testimony of William Kidd, that
most genial and bird-like of men, whose soul overflows
with love and humanity. He says that kindness is the key
to all hearts, whether of birds or men ; and that the Eobin
is peculiarly susceptible of its sweet influences, becoming
familiar at once, if only approached in the right way. And
while on this point we may quote with advantage
the following paragraph from Percy St. John's l Birds :'
1 John M'Kelvie, gardener to the lady of the late
General Hughes, at her seat of Mount Charles, beauti-
fully situated on the banks, and near the mouth of
the classic Doon, has a host of winged companions, all of
which come at his call, flutter around him in the garden,
and feed from his hand. At the head of this feathered
tribe stands a Redbreast, which all but speaks, in return for
the long kind treatment it has experienced from its master.
This bird, when called upon, will fly from the farthest point
at which it can hear his voice, alight on his hand at once,
and without any apprehensions, pick its meal ; and often-
times will sit on his shoulder, as he walks or works, and
nestles in his bosom in well-known security. Nay more ;
when the gardener goes to town, if the Robin by any chance
espies him as he departs, it gives him an escort, chirping
and fluttering along the hedges before him, until he reaches
the toll-bar, at Alloway Place, on which, or on a neigh-
bouring tree, it perches awaiting his return.'

A close observer of this interesting little bird remarks,
that the nursery ballad on the i Children in the Wood,' has
done much for its protection. He is a bird which never
congregates, but is widely spread ; and there are few loca-
lities in the country that are not enlivened by his presence.
He is a general attendant on the gardener, particularly on
the operations of the spade, in search of worms and insects.
He is very familiar, and, if encouraged, soon becomes half-

THE FRIEND OF CHILDHOOD. 93

domesticated. For two or three years a Robin formed one
of my family ; seldom did I sit down to a meal without his
being on the table. He would enter the house by any
door or window, and watch his opportunity to pass into
the room as the servant brought in the dishes. At other
times he would appear at the parlour window, and, on
being admitted, would fly to my knee, or perch upon the
book I was reading ; but his favourite post was the lid of
a lady's work-box, and among its contents of bobbins and
reels of cotton he would find great amusement. Upon this
lid he would warble by the half-hour together, in soft
musical notes, which, at times, appeared to come from
different parts of the room, as though he was a ventrilo-
quist. He would feed from the hand, and was not disturbed
by the movements of the family.'

But our sweet familiar Eobin, the friend of our child-
hood, the cheerer of our winter hours, has a dark side to his
character ; he steals fruit, especially the currant ; yet this
is only when the ground is dry and hard, and worms
cannot be obtained, so we must not blame him harshly for
this. But then he is such a desperately quarrelsome fellow,
so pugnacious that it is said two male Eedbreasts never meet
without fighting ; even as Mr. Blyth says, he has seen two
of these birds fight in his garden until one was killed ; and
Mr. Wood has l observed them skirmishing with such relent-
less ferocity and unabated ardour, that if he had not inter-
fered, fatal consequences must inevitably have ensued to
one party.' They have even suffered themselves to be
captured, and when put into a cage large enough to contain
a dozen more peaceable birds, have renewed the combat as
fiercely as ever. One of the fighters was then set at liberty,
when each of them, one within the house and one without,
poured forth songs of defiance. The next day the other
pugnacious bird was released, and in the evening Mr.
Wood found the two at it again, tooth and nail, or
rather claw and bill. If you want to capture a Eedbreast,
you have only to tie a male bird inside a cage, and leave
the door open, another will soon enter into the arena for
the purpose of having a combat with the prisoner, and may
be easily secured. But even a cage is not necessary, for

94 PUGNACITY OF THE ROBIN.

the Eobin fights with such fury and entire devotion to hia
object, that he will suffer himself to be taken with the
hand ; so you have only to tie the decoy bird to a stake
or any fixed object. A pair of Eobins have been known to
unite in attacking and driving off a party of Sparrows, and
as soon as this was accomplished, to fall-to, fighting each
other. The following incident affords a striking example
of how quarrellers sometimes l come to grief : ' — l Two
Eobins, friends of the workmen of Messrs. Armstrong's
factory, by whom they were petted and fed with scraps
from the morning meal, came to a sad end the other day.
The men were seated at breakfast; and the Eobins, perched
on a ladder, were catering for crumbs as usual. A struggle
for the possession of a sweet morsel occurred in the course
of the repast ; and the birds, as sworn friends amongst
animals of a more intelligent class are apt to do, fell foul
of each other. A regular battle ensued on the ladder ; and
the birds, heedless of their course, fought vigorously down-
ward, until they came to the bottom, where they plunged
into a pot of paint, and (oh! direful fate !) were suffocated.
The workmen rushed to the rescue, but were too late to
save their favourites from destruction.' But, after all that
can be said about his quarrelsome disposition, we shall still
love the Eobin, and feed him, and cherish him ; when he
comes to our door or our window-sill in the dreary winter;
when he warbles his cheerful notes in the misty autumn —
love him for the pleasant memories of early days which
he brings back to us ; love him for the lessons which he
teaches. What those lessons are, let an old author declare,
who says : — ' As oft as I have heard the Eobin Eedbreast
chaunt — as cheerfully in September, the beginning of winter,
as in March, the approach of the summer — why should
we not give as cheerful entertainment to the hoary frosty
hairs of our age's winter, as to the primroses of our youth's
spring ? I am sent to the ant to learn industry ; to the
dove to learn innocency ; to the serpent to learn wisdom ;
and why not to this bird to learn patience and cheerful-
ness ? ' Following out this train of thought, we may re-
member and record the words of good Bishop Hall upon
occasion of a Eedbreast coming into his chamber : —

ROBIN MORALITIES. 95

Pretty bird, how cheerfully dost thou sit and sing, and yet
knowest not where thou art, nor where thou shalt make thy next
meal ; and, at night, must shroud thyself in a bush for lodging !
What a shame is it for me, that see before me so liberal provisions
of my God, and find myself sit warm under my own roof, yet am
ready to droop under a distrustful and unthankful dullness ! Had I
so little certainty of my harbour and purveyance, how heartless
should I be, how careful, how little list should I have to make
music to thee or myself ! Surely thou comest not hither without a
Providence. God sent thee not so much to delight as to shame me ;
who, under more apparent means, am less cheerful and confident :
reason and faith have not done so much in me, as in thee mere
instinct of nature ; want of foresight makes thee more merry, if not
more happy here, than the foresight of better things maketh me.

0 God, thy Providence is not impaired by those powers Thou
hast given me above these brute things : let not my greater helps
hinder me from an holy security, and comfortable reliance upon
thee.

With one prayer more we must conclude, although
leaving unnoticed many interesting incidents and circum-
stances illustrating traits of character in this favourite bird,
and very many beautiful poems which have been written
in honour of the household bird with the red stomacher
that we all love so dearly, that, like Ebenezer Elliot, we
shall desire to have it with us in the mansions of eternal
joy. This poet, we are told, on his death-bed, dictated
these lines to his daughter : —

Thy notes, sweet Kobin, soft as dew,

Heard soon or late, are dear to me ;
To music I would bid adieu,

But not to thee.
When from my eyes this lifeful throng

Has passed away, no more to be,
Then Autumn's primrose, Robin's song,
Return to me.

THE REDSTART (Ruticilla or Sylvia plicenicurus). — We
have three Redstarts in England, and this is the most com-
mon species ; they are generally associated with the War-
blers, but Macgillivray has placed them as a genus by
themselves, under the name Ruticilla. The species of
which we have first to speak is that above named ; it is
a beautiful and lively bird, which remains with us during

96 THE REDSTART.

the summer only, coming about the middle of April and
leaving in October. It is about five inches and three-
quarters in length ; and in form, colour, and habits, closely
resembles the Wheatear ; the grey of the back has a deeper
tint than on that bird, and the black which covers the
cheeks extends also over the throat ; the rump, too, is not
white, but orange red, like the tail. The nest of this bird
is generally placed in a hole, or cavity in a wall, or in the
chink of a rock, or among stones, sometimes in a hollow
tree ; it is composed of fibrous roots and moss, and is plen-
tifully lined with hair and feathers. The eggs are six or
seven in number, of a light greenish blue colour, very like
those of the Hedge Sparrow, being of the same form, but
considerably smaller, averaging nine-twelfths of an inch in
length. By Macgillivray this bird is called the White-fronted
Eedstart, also the Redtail and Firetail, terms frequently ap-
plied to it in country districts. Mudie terms it the Red
Warbler, and gives the following account of its habits : —

The bird is both familiar and shy: familiar as to its general
haunting place, for it visits gardens and courts, and even the close
vicinity of towns, and the squares and less-frequented streets. But
it is continually hopping about, so that it is not easily got sight of;
and that has led to the supposition that it is not so generally dif-
fused as it really is. The ' blink ' of reddish orange displayed by
the flirt of the tail, even when there is not time to notice the
peculiar motion of that organ, is, however, sufficient to distinguish
it from every other bird.

Its song is sweet, though plaintive, and has some resemblance to
that of the Nightingale, only very inferior in compass and power,
and audible only at a short distance. The song is uttered from the
perch, on a ruin, a tall post, the trunk of a blasted tree, or some
other situation from which it can see around it ; and one who has
neard the plaintive strain of the Redstart from the top of a ruined
abbey or crumbling fortalice, would be inclined to call it the bird of
decay, rather than the ' Wall Nightingale,' as Buffon did. It is not
a Nightingale at all, even in time, for it usually begins its song about
the time when that of the Nightingale ceases. Early morn is its
favourite time, but not till the dawn has made considerable advances.
When the males arrive, they sing from elevated perches ; but after
the operations of nesting are begun, they sing lower, and always
within a short distance of the nest. Among other birds, his song is
not always easily detected, for he is partially an imitator of other
birds. The flirting of the tail is accompanied by a very short and
plaintive chirp. From the habit which both birds have of hopping

CURIOUS MOTION OF THE TAIL. 97

about, the nest is not easily discovered, even though it be known to
be near ; and when it is discovered, considerable liberties may be
taken with it, without making the birds desert it.

Besides its singular vibrating motion, which appears as
if outwards and inwards, upwards and downwards, all at
the same time, the tail is a curious organ, and aids in very
peculiar leaps, or short flights ; when completely shut, it is
rounded at the extremity, so that the bird can thread
intricate places as the brake birds do ; when opened a little,
it is slightly forked, or rather terminates in two circular
lobes, so that the bird can wheel in the air ; and the sort
of rotatory motion that it has, and the oblique position in
which it can be exerted, enable the bird to change into
an echelon motion, the result of which is forward, sideways,
and upwards and downwards, all at the same time. The
straightforward flight is rather rapid, and all the motions
of the bird are graceful.

Touching this peculiar motion of the tail, White observes :
* When Redstarts shake their tails, they move them hori-
zontally, as dogs do when they fawn ; the tail of a Wagtail,
when in motion, bobs up and down like that of a jaded
horse.' Blyth, however, remarks that this is an error, he
having noticed, with regard to these birds, both in a
wild state, and one of captivity, that ' They move their tail
perpendicularly, and not at all in the manner of a Wagtail,
the motion being rapid and of slight extent, and re-
peated after every movement of the bird; or the tail
sometimes hangs and shakes as if ready to fall off.' This
latter habit being, as he says, very characteristic of the
genus. With regard to the above discrepancy of opinion,
may we not say to the parties, * You both are right, and
both are wrong ? '

The Tree Redstart, as Neville Wood terms it, is, according
to that author, tolerably plentiful in every part of Britain,
except Wales, where, Montagu says, it never occurs. In
the north of Scotland, it is considered a rare bird, and
it is nowhere so abundant as in the midland and southern
counties of England. In Derbyshire it is very abundant
in its peculiar haunts, and is known to the country people
by the namea of 4 Redtail,' ' Firetail,' < Brandtail,' &c.

98 SONG OF THE REDSTART.

The experience of this naturalist does not bear out the
statement of Willoughby, who says, ' This is the shyest of
all birds, for if she perceives you to mind her when she is
building, she will forsake what she has begun, and if you
touch an egg, she never comes to her nest more ; and if
you touch her young ones, she will either starve them or
throw them out of the nest and break their necks ; ' and
both Mudie and Stanley agree with him in asserting that
this bird is not so easily induced to forsake her nest as is
here represented.

Wood agrees with Bechstein and Sweet in stating this to
be a very difficult bird to keep long in a state of captivity :
i With great care,' he says, i it may be preserved three
or four years, but it seldom repays this trouble, always
remaining sullen, and singing but little.' This, however,
is not always the case, as instances are cited in which the
birds became remarkably tame and familiar, and quite
happy and content with their lot ; singing, in one case, both
in the day and night time, and nearly the whole year
throughout. White says, l The song of the Redstart is
superior, though somewhat like that of the Whitethroat ;
some birds have a few more notes than others. Sitting very
placidly on the top of a tall tree in a village, the cock sings
from morning to night : he affects neighbourhoods and
avoids solitude, and loves to build in orchards and about
houses ; ' so that, we see, he also is one of the familiar
friends of man.

The lively Eedstart strains his little throat

Perch' d on an orchard tree throughout the day;
When downy seeds upon the breezes float,

And wither' d leaves begin to strew the way ;

And although bright the sunny beams that play
Upon the landscape, yet all things denote

The glory of the year hath passed away :
And there he warbles out his farewell note.
Soon will his desultory song be heard

In climes more bright and balmier than ours ,
The cold, ungenial north suits not this bird,

And so he journeys to a land where bowers
Are ever green ; to visit us again
When the sweet smile of April lights the plain.

THE BLACK REDSTART. 99

BLACK REDSTART.

THE BLACK-BREASTED REDSTART (Ruticilla tithys), some-
times called the Black Redstart, or Redtail, or the Tithys
Warbler. The form and size of this bird is very like the
other species of Redstarts ; the upper parts of its plumage
are greyish blue ; the rump and tail-coverts red ; the
throat and breast black, with margin of grey to the feathers.
But few individuals have been met with in this country.
Continental authors describe it as rare in the northern parts
of Europe, but common in the southern. It haunts stony
places and bare pastures, feeding on insects, larvae, worms,
and berries ; nestles in fissures in the rocks, holes in the
walls, or among stones ; builds its nest of dry grass, and
lines it with hair, and lays five or six eggs, which are white
and glossy.

At a meeting of the British Association for the Advance-
ment of Science, Dr. Barry read the following paper : —

At the railway station in Giessen, Hesse Darmstadt, in May,
1852, it was found that a bird had built its nest on the collision
spring of a third-class carriage, which had remained for some time
out of use. The bird was the Black Redstart, and the nest con-
tained five eggs. The discovery was made by the superintendent of
luggage vans, Jacob Stephani, who humanely desired his men to

100 THE BLUE -THROATED REDSTART.

avoid as long as possible the running of that carriage. At length,
when it could no longer be dispensed with, the carriage was attached
to a train, and sent to Frankfort-on-the-Maine, distant between
thirty and forty English miles. At Frankfort it remained six-and-
thirty hours, and was then brought back to Giessen ; from whence
it went to Lollar, distant four or five English miles, and subse-
quently again came back to Giessen, having been kept a while at
Lollar; so that four days and three nights elapsed between the
bringing of the carriage into use, and its last return to Giessen.
Stephani now finding the nest not to have been abandoned by the
parent birds, and to contain young ones, which he described as
feathered, he removed it from the carriage to a secure place of rest
which he had prepared, saw the parent bird visit it, and visited it
from time to time himself, until at first three, and then the other
two young birds had flown ; none remaining at the end of four or
five days. Now, while the carriage was travelling, where were the
parent birds ? It will hardly be said that they remained at Giessen
awaiting its return, having to examine by night as well as by day
hundreds of passing carriages in order to recognise it ; the young
birds in their nest quietly awaiting food (!). There seems little
doubt that, adhering to the nest, one, at least, of the parent birds
travelled with the train. Nor, when it is remembered how gently
and how slowly an enormous railway carriage is pushed into connec-
tion with a train — how gradually a train is brought into full speed,
and how equable the movements are upon a railway — will it appear
incredible that at such a time a parent bird should continue with its
nest, that nest being quite concealed, and containing young. Not
until after the above was written did the author of this communica-
tion become acquainted with the important fact, that while the
carriage in question was at Frankfort, as well as during its short
stay at Friedeberg, on the way to Frankfort, the conductor of the
train saw a red-tailed bird constantly flying from and to the part
where the nest was situated in that particular carriage. Is further
evidence required that a parent bird did indeed travel with the
train ?

THE BLUE-THROATED EEDSTART (Ruticilla cyanecula). —
This bird is frequently called the Blue-throated Warbler ;
its claim to admission into the British fauna rests upon
three or four specimens taken in different parts of the
country, a pair having been shot near the Eeculvers, in Kent,
on the 29th September, 1842 ; they are now in the Mar-
gate Museum. In general conformation, the bird nearly
resembles the previous species ; it is about the same size,
but rather more slender in make. The prevailing colour
of the plumage is wood brown, with dusky markings ; to-

A LIVELY AND PLEASANT SONGSTER. 101

wards the rump a red tinge prevails, and there is a light
red patch on each of the upper tail coverts ; a whitish band
extends from the nostrils over the eye; the throat is a
beautiful ultramarine blue, margined beneath with dusky

BLUE-THROATED WARBLER.

spots ; after which succeeds a patch of orange red, with
white spots below, and then another band of blue, succeeded
by a line of black, edged with white, beneath which is red
again, fading off into whitish, which occupies the whole of
the under parts. The song of this bird, which is not
uncommon in various parts of the Continent during the
summer and autumn, is said to be lively and pleasantly
modulated, sometimes poured out when it is on the wing,
and often heard in the dusk, or in the early part of the
night. It frequents low moist places covered with grass,
willows, and low bushes, among which its nest is placed ;
this is composed of withered stems and leaves, lined with
finer materials of the same nature. The eggs are of a
greenish blue colour, unspotted, nine-twelfths of an inch
long, very like those of the common Eedstart and Hedge
Sparrow.

While singing, this bird, if undisturbed, perches on the
tops of the brushwood or low trees ; but on the least alarm
it conceals itself among the low cover. It does not exhibit

102 A RARE VISITOR.

the quivering motion of the tail peculiar to the Redstart ;
but very frequently jerks up the tail in the manner
of the Nightingale and Robin, and while singing, often
spreads it. It frequently rises on wing a considerable
height above the brushwood, singing, with the tail spread
like a fan, and alights often at a distance of fifty or sixty
yards from the spot where it rose. On approaching the
nest when it contains their young, their notes of alarm or
anger resemble those of the Nightingale's croak ; the wings
are then lowered, the tail spread and jerked up. The Blue-
throat commences his song with the first dawn of day, and
it may be heard in the evening when most of the feathered
tribes are silent. These birds are caught in autumn by
snares baited with berries.

Wood calls this the Blue-throated Fantail, and ex-
presses surprise that it has been placed by almost every
writer in the same genus as the Redstarts and the Redbreast,
as it belongs most obviously to a different group, to the
Wagtail sub-family (MotacillincK).

' The Blue-throated Warbler, or Blue-throated Robin,'
says Broderip, in his ' Zoological Recreations,7 ' seldom
deigns to visit us, although it is numerous as a summer
visitor on the continent of Europe, where its beauty and
voice do not save it from the cook ; in Alsace, particularly,
it is considered a great delicacy, and numbers are immo-
lated for the table. It were to be wished that this elegant
and pleasing songster would visit us more frequently: and
as insects, earth-worms, and berries are its food, it seems
singular that it does not favour us with its company ; for
Russia and Siberia, as well as Spain, France, Holland,
Germany and Prussia, know it well.'

103

CHAPTER VIII.

WAGTAILS.

THE Motacilline birds, or Wagtails, constitute Macgil-
livray's nineteenth family ; they are closely connected
with the Larks on the one hand, and with the Chats on the
other ; they are all birds of slender form, with straight thin
bills, long tails, claws generally of moderate length, curved
and rather stout, and long broad wings. They reside chiefly
in open pastures and meadows, especially delighting in
streams, rivers, and other collections of water ; they have
a remarkable habit of almost constantly vibrating the body,
and especially the tail, hence their common names of Wag-
tail and Quaketail. They have a rapid, undulatory flight,
which is extremely buoyant and graceful, and a shrill voice
without much compass or melody. The family is divided
into four genera, of which only two have British represen-
tatives; these are the Wagtail genus (Motacilla) and the
Quaketail (Budytes). In the first there are three British
species, 1st: — THE GREY WAGTAIL (Motacilla alba or
cinerea), sometimes called the Grey and White, or Cinereous
Wagtail. This bird measures about seven inches and a half
in length ; the plumage is black and white, with a shading
of grey on the back and sides ; there is a black crescent on
the fore neck, sometimes very distinct, at others not at all
so ; in fact the plumage of this bird varies so much in the
admixture of the shades from deep black to pure white at
different seasons, and at different stages of growth, as to
render it difficult of identification and distinction from some
other species, and there has been considerable confusion
even among naturalists on the subject. We shall there-
fore merely say of it, that with us this bird is only a winter
visitant, although it may occasionally breed in this country,
and pass on to the next and more common species, to which
in habits and appearance this closely assimilates.

104

THE PIED WAGTAIL.

PIED WAGTAIL.

THE PIED WAGTAIL (Motacilla Yarrelli), to which Mr.
Gould thus refers : — ' While engaged upon this tribe of birds
during the course of my work on " The Birds of Europe, ' ' I was
surprised to find that the sprightly Pied Wagtail, so abundant
in our islands at all seasons, could not be referred to any
described species, and that it was equally limited in its
habitat ; for, besides the British islands, Norway and Swe-
den are the only parts of Europe wrhence I have been able
to procure examples identical with our bird, whose place in
the temperate portions of Europe is occupied by a nearly-
allied, but distinct species, the true M. alia of Linnasus ;
which, although abundant in France, particularly in the
neighbourhood of Calais, has never yet been discovered on
the opposite shores of Kent, or in any part of England.
As therefore our bird, which has always been considered as
identical with the M. alba, proves to be a distinct species,
I have named it after my friend W. Yarrell, Esq., as a just
tribute to his varied talents as a naturalist.'

The characters by which these two species may be readily
distinguished are as follows : — The Pied Wagtail of Eng-
land (M. Yarrelli) is somewhat more robust in form, and
in its full summer dress has the whole of the head, chest,
and back of a full deep jet black; while in the M. alba,
at the same period, the throat and head alone are of this

THE GREY- AND- YELLOW WAGTAIL- 105

colour, the back and the rest of the upper surface being of
a light ash grey. In winter the two species more nearly
assimilate in their colouring, and this circumstance has
doubtless been the cause of their hitherto being considered
identical, the black back of M. Yarrelli being grey at this
season, although not so light as on M. alba. An additional
evidence of their being distinct (but which has doubtless
contributed to the confusion) is that the female of M. Yarrelli
never has the back black as in the male ; this part even in
summer being dark grey, in which respect it closely re-
sembles the other species.

Macgillivray says that he is not satisfied as to the dif-
ference between the two species, and would not be surprised
to find that they are in reality one and the same. * Whe-
ther this be the case or not, M. alba of Linnaeus is as
much the present species as the preceding, since he refers
to Willoughby and Ray, and therefore I think the Pied
Wagtail might with propriety be named M. alba, and the
grey and white M. cinerea. I have ascertained that the
spring moult is complete with the exception of the quills
and tail feathers, and not confined to the throat as has been
alleged.'

Leaving this knotty point to be settled by the ornitholo-
gists, we will proceed to speak of the two other species.

THE GREY-AND-YELLOW WAGTAIL (Motacilla Boaruld),
sometimes called the Grey, sometimes the Yellow Wagtail,
has the head and black blueish grey, tinged with green, the
rump greenish yellow, the throat greyish white, and the
lower parts bright yellow. A remarkably elegant and
beautiful bird this ; not so stout as the Pied species, but
a little longer, in consequence of the greater length of the
tail ; the male in summer has a black patch on the throat,
edged with white bands, so that it looks as if tied on ; it
is a partial emigrant, leaving the northern for the southern
parts of the country in winter. It is said to be even more
aquatic in its habits than the Pied Wagtail, being seldom
seen, except about marshy and moist places, and on the
banks of streams, &c. ' In such situations,' says Yarrell,
1 and somewhat solitary in their habits, a pair of these birds

106 ITS FOOD AND NEST.

may be seen shifting from place to place with undulating
flight, or running with rapid steps along the margin of, and
sometimes wading in, the shallow water in search of various
insects. They have also been observed to run upon the
tops of the weeds which are partly submerged in ditches,
and probably feed upon the water-beetles which are almost
always to be found in such situations.

GBEY-AND-YELLOW WAGTAIL.

The nest of this bird is placed on the ground, seldom very
distant from the stream it frequents, and generally on some
rugged part of its banks, the inequalities of the ground
affording concealment ; it is usually composed of fibrous
roots and moss, lined with wool, hair, or feathers. The
eggs are from five to six in number, yellowish white,
mottled with pale brown, varying in the depth of the tint.
Two broods are produced in a season, the first being
generally fledged by the end of May. The young birds
keep with their parents until late in the autumn. * In our
neighbourhood/ says Mr. Weir, ' the Grey Wagtails
generally build their nests in rocky situations on the water
side. To this, however, I know one exception. For
several years past, a pair has built at Balbardie House.
In the year 1835 they erected their abode in a small wooden
spout above the feather-house door. Last year one of the

THE GREY-HEADED WAGTAIL. 107

panes of glass above the said door being broken, they
changed their old situation, being determined to try an
indoor residence. They accordingly flew in by the window,
and built their nest on a shelf, where they brought forth
five young. They made a second nest on the window-sill
of the dairy, a few yards from the former one, and what
is remarkable, their nests were about two hundred yards
from Balbardie Lough, or the nearest place where there
is water.'

After the breeding season, great numbers of these birds
are seen at the mouths of rivers, especially in marshy
places to which the tide has access. About the middle of
spring they disperse in pairs, and are then met with along
the streams and brooks near which they build ; they have
no song, but emit a few shrill and feeble notes. Such is
Macgillivray's testimony ^ Bechstein says, that although the
song consists of but two notes, yet its clear round tones
render it not unpleasant.

GREY-HEADED WAGTAIL.

THE GREY-HEADED WAGTAIL {Motacilla flava). — This
bird appears to be identical with the BLUE -HEADED
QUAKETAIL of Macgillivray, whose restricted genus contains
this and another species, presently to be described. Gould
called the bird Motacilla neglecta, under the impression

108 WHICH IS WHICH?

that it had been neglected by Continental authors, but
subsequent enquiry convinced him that it was the Yellow
Wagtail of Linnaeus and others ; it was then considered
that justice should be done to Kay's original notice of our
common yellow species by calling this bird by his name.
Hence its appearance in some systematic arrangements as
M. Rayi, which name has been also applied to the YELLOW
WAGTAIL, called by Macgillivray THE GREEN-HEADED
QUAKETAIL. Indeed, among naturalists there seems such a
confusion worse confounded with regard to the few birds
known to us of this family group, that it is difficult to
make out exactly how many species there really are, and
which is which. Pompey and Csesar appear to be so < bery
much alike,' and to have changed names so often, that
whether this is Pompey and that Caesar, or vice versa, we
really cannot tell, and the difficulty is much increased by
there being five or six of these birds dodging about, and
taking each other's names and places. Our artist seems to
have followed Yarrell in his illustration pretty closely, and
he tells us that the Grey-headed Wagtail, here represented,
is with us a very rare bird, although common on the Conti-
nent, while THE YELLOW or RAY'S WAGTAIL (M. flava or
Budytes Rayi) is plentiful here, but rare as a Continental
bird. This is the story of the Grey and Pied Wagtails
over again, and it is a little singular that such should be
the case in one restricted feathered family ; but we must set
it down as illustrating, in a very striking manner, the
great theory of compensation, which seems to be one of the
laws of creation.

Well, but the YELLOW WAGTAIL ! here he is, as brisk
and lively as you please, with his olive brown suit, lined
with bright orange, and faced with white, as pretty a bird
as one need wish to see.

In so far as I have observed, [says Macgillivray, describing his
Green-headed Quaketail, but which is, no doubt, this bird under an-
other name,] there is nothing in the habits of this species differing
from those of the Wagtails properly so-called, excepting its being
more addicted to hunting for insects in plants. For some time after
its arrival in the end of spring (this is but a summer visitant) it
keeps in the pastures and ploughed fields, where it runs about with

RAY'S WAGTAIL.

109

great celerity, vibrating its body, and at intervals expanding its
tail, as it searches for insects, after which it now and then makes
short excursions on wing. I have not met with it in the northern
parts of Scotland : but about Edinburgh it is, pretty generally dis-
tributed.

Montagu states that it arrives here about the time when
the Pied Wagtail takes its departure for the north. In
Scotland it disappears about the middle of August, and in
the south of England towards the end of September. It
frequents arable land, especially in the more champaign

BAY'S WAGTAIL.

parts, sometimes in cultivated ground interspersed with
furze ; it is also partial to bean fields. In all such places
it breeds, and does not seem to require water so much as
either of the other species. The nest is always placed on the
ground, composed of dried stalks and fibres, lined with hair.
The eggs are four or five in number, of a pale brown,
sprinkled all over with a darker shade. Nothing can ex-
ceed the elegance of the fiight of this species, which is
performed in long graceful undulations ; its notes Lave a
considerable resemblance to those of the Pipets. It is
sometimes called the Oatear, or Oat-bird — not, as Neville
Wood suggests, because it feeds on oats, or any other corn,
for it is wholly insectivorous — but because those extensive
upland districts which it frequents are more favourable to
the growth of oats than to any other kind of grain, and

110 THE DISH-WASHERS.

because, moreover, it resorts to these corn fields on its first
arrival in Britain. Those who have had an opportunity
of observing this bird, must have remarked that the tail is
not merely moved up and down, but that it has a kind of
lateral motion ; or at least that it is partially spread at the
time of wagging, which gives it a flitting unsteady ap-
pearance — hence the name Quaketail.

The Wagtails, or Dish-washers, as the country people
sometimes call them, probably because they are generally
seen near water, moving up and down as in the act of
washing, have been but little noticed by the poets. James
Montgomery has given us the soliloquy of a Water Wag-
tail on the walls of York Castle, but as it contains nothing
distinctive, and might as well have been uttered by any
other bird, we refrain from quoting it. Miss Waring, in
her l Minstrelsy of the Woods,' has a pretty rhyme for the
Pied Wagtail, of which we give two verses : —

The children's shouts of glee

Were heard on the daisied green
When the ebony and ivory

Of thy glossy plumes were seen ;
Like thine their joyous bound,

And the bright quick-glancing eye,
And bird-like voices of silver sound

Were hailing thee merrily.

Still gently as breeze-borne flowers

Thou art flitting across the lawn ;
But the playmates of former hours

Where are they with their light steps gone ?
Thou art here, the same gay creature ;

But they, on the wide world thrown,
Are changed in form and feature,

And with yoices of deepest tone.

Ill

CHAPTER IX.

CREEPERS WRENS, HOOPOES, AND NUTHATCHES.

THE order of birds called Reptatrices, or Creepers, com-
prehends several natural groups, of two of which only
have we representatives in Britain. Of the Certhince or Tree
Creepers, but one species occurs in this country; this is the
BROWN TREE CREEPER (Certhia familiaris), sometimes called
the Tree Spider, or Brown Woodpecker. It is permanently
resident in the wooded parts of England, but is nowhere
plentiful ; it has, perhaps, with the exception of the Crested
Wren, the smallest body of any British bird ; the plumage is
mostly brown of various shades, being very dark on the
upper part of the head, yellowish on the neck and back, and
reddish on the rump ; many of the feathers have white
in the middle, which gives a mottled appearance to the
whole, and the wings have a transverse whitish band ; the
under parts of the body are silvery white, or grey ; the
bill is very slender, and considerably curved ; the tongue,
like that of the Woodpecker, has a horny point ; the claws
are long, curved and sharp, and are assisted in the operation
of climbing and clinging by twelve elongated and stiff
tail feathers. The Tree Creepers pair in April, and about
the beginning of May begin to construct a nest of withered
stalks and blades of grass, moss, fibrous roots, &c., in some
hole in a tree, or hollow of a rock or chalk-bank ; it is
lined with feathers, and has in it from five to seven eggs of
a regular ovate form, glossy white, sprinkled with dots and
patches of brownish red, often disposed in a broad belt near
the larger end. The female bird is fed by the male while
sitting ; the young are abroad by the middle of June ; and
it appears likely that there is a second brood.
Macgillivray gives us this picture of the habits of the bird :

At this season (winter), should you fall in with a flock of Reguli
and Pari (Gold-crests and Tits), you may be pretty well assured

112 EXPERT CLIMBERS.

that a few Tree Creepers will be found at no great distance. There,
clinging to the rough bark at the base of that old elm, you see one
advancing upwards by short jerks. At each movement it emits a
shrill, but feeble cry. See how it climbs, searching every crevice —
now proceeding directly upwards, now winding round the trunk,
presently passing behind it, and in a short time appearing on the
other side. Observe it well, and you will see that it crouches close
to the surface, presses its tail against it, now and then picks some-
thing from a cleft, jerks itself forwards, never rests for a moment,
but seems in the utmost haste, and expresses its anxiety by con-
tinually emitting its lisping cry. Yet its efforts are not laborious ;
it seems to hold on with perfect ease and unconcern, and although it
is now half-way up, it exhibits no sign of fatigue. There, it passes
off from the trunk, creeps along a nearly horizontal branch,
winding round it, and adhering even to its lower surface, with its
back toward the ground. Having gone as far as it finds convenient,
it flies back to the trunk, which it ascends until you lose sight of it
among the twigs at the top. What next ? Will it creep .down
again ? No, there it comes, with headlong flight, glancing like an
arrow, curves as it comes near the ground, alights at the very root of
the next tree, and commences its ascent. You may watch it for an
hour, and you will find it as fresh, as lively, and as keen as ever.
Should it happen to observe you, and suspect you mean it no good,
it will run up the back of the tree, appearing now and then at the
sides, until it is perhaps half-way up, when it will search all parts
alike, being free of apprehensions of injury. But now, hearing its
friends the Tits and Reguli at a distance, it looks abroad for a
moment from the top of the tree, and, uttering a few cries, sweeps
away in a curving somewhat undulating manner.

Gilbert White says : l A pair of Creepers built at the
end of the parsonage house at Greatham, behind some
loose plinths. It is very amusing to see them run creep-
ing up the wall with the agility of a mouse. They take
great delight in climbing up steep surfaces, and support
themselves in their progress with their tails, which are
long and stiff, and inclined downwards.' Knapp has no-
ticed that this little bird, though always active, seems to
possess most animation and restlessness in the summer
months. In the early part of spring, when food is com-
paratively scarce in the woods, it will frequent the mossy
trees in our orchards and gardens ; but after a short exami-
nation of them, is away to its usual retirements, seeking
no familiarity with us, notwithstanding the social epithet
it has obtained. This author says the female bird lays
eight or nine eggs.

THE JENNY WREN. US'

The following is Bishop Mant's poetical description of this
species : —

See you the little Creeper twine

Bound yonder trunk his spiral line,

Intent each mossy tuft to mark,

Each crevice in the furrowed bark,

Where haply lurks his wished-for food —

The insects' eggs, or tiny brood.

Scarce will you hear his frequent squeak

Of sound monotonous and weak ;

Scarce his retiring figure see,

As round the intervening tree

Mouse-like in size and act he steals.

The tree's impending trunk conceals

His back in sober tawny drest,

Wings streaked with brown, and silvery breast.

Nor known nor heeded much ; but sent

To man a powerful instrument :

From orchard-fruit, and garden-flower,

Hedge-row and copse and woodland bower,

To spoil the insect, and disarm

The canker of its power to harm.

Such debt for kindness oft we owe

To those we little heed or know ;

Such benefit from meaner things

To those of nobler semblance springs ;

Such blessings flow from feeble hands

When the Creator's will commands.

THE WREN.

THE EUROPEAN WREN, called by naturalists Anorthyra tro-
glodytes, is the single representative which we have of the

H

114 NOT A DWELLER IN CAVES.

genus Anorthura. Scarcely need we describe this bird, for
who does not know the little Jenny Wren, so common in
every part of the country, the heroine of the nursery tale in
which Cock Eobin figures as hero, almost as beloved and
cherished a household bird as he, and far more gentle and
deserving of love than that pert and pugnacious fellow who
goes flaunting about in his crimson stomacher, fancying him-
self a welcome guest everywhere, as indeed he is. Our
little friend here, in her dress of light greyish brown, with
dusky markings to give variety, just a white streak over
each eye, and bands of white spots upon the wing, for
relief, is as pretty and modest a creature as one need wish
to see, and she has a sweet, soft voice too, although it is
somewhat low. Let Mudie describe her more fully : —

The Wren is not literally a 'dweller in caves,' as troglodytes
imports, but it is a hideling, both in its nidification and in its
habits. In winter it comes near the house, and even when snow
lies thick upon the ground it may be seen hopping about under the
plants in the garden or the shrubbery. If there is a pile of wood
which has lain for some time, and is not snowed over, it may be
seen on the top when the sun comes out, or the day is otherwise at
the brightest, but it hops under cover the instant that it is ap-
proached. The farm-yard is also a favourite place with it in severe
weather, and there it will seek its food very confidently among the
poultry and domestic animals. If there are mud walls, very
thick hedges, or any other deep cover near the house, it makes
that its habitation all the year round, and seeks shelter in very
severe weather in the same nest in which it has reared its brood.
If the weather is more than ordinarily severe, numbers will get into
the same shelter, and they are often found chilled to death by the
cold, or suffocated by the snow. At those times, and indeed soon
after the young are reared, there does not appear to be any society
among Wrens. Not that they evince the slightest hostility to each
other, but they are quite passive till the heat of the weather puts
them in mind of the labours of the season, and very little heat
suffices, for even when frost is still seen, if the midday sun gleam
out warmly, the Wren will ehaunt his song, and even when the sky is
suddenly overcast, he will continue his notes till the snow drives
him into some hiding-place.

Broderip says that —

The common Wren is too often shot by the sportsman, for the
sake of the tail feathers; these, when skillfully manipulated, ad-
mirably represent the spider of February, March, and April, when

USEFUL TO MAN. 115

anything like an insect is considered a bonne bouche by the trout ;
and, indeed, the deceit, if lightly cast by a nice hand on the ripple,
is sure to take fish, and good ones too, ' if,' as old Izaak hath it,
'they be there.' The bird may be followed up and down the
hedge-row till it will suffer itself to be taken by the hand. Then
borrow — steal if you will — two or three of the precious feathers,
but let the little warbler go to enjoy its liberty, and furnish « Wren's
tails ' for another year.

We scarcely think that sufficient attention has been
called to the services rendered by this diminutive songster
to man, in a way to which special allusion is made in the
following extract : —

As a devourer of pernicious insects, one of the most useful birds
is the House Wren. This little bird seems peculiarly fond of the
society of man, and it must be confessed that it is often protected
by his interested care. It has long been a custom, in many parts of
the country, to fix a small box at the end of a long pole, in gardens,
about houses, &c., as a place for it to build in. In these boxes they
build, and hatch their young. When the young are hatched the
parent bird feeds them with a variety of different insects, particu-
larly such as are injurious in gardens. An intelligent gentleman
was at the trouble to observe the number of times a pair of these
birds came from their box, and returned with insects for their young.
He found that they did this from forty to sixty times in an hour ;
and, in one particular hour, the birds carried food to their young
seventy-one times. In this business they were engaged the greater
part of the day ; say twelve hours. Taking the medium, therefore,
of fifty times in an hour, it appeared that a single pair of these birds
took from the cabbage, salad, beans, peas, and other vegetables in
the garden, at least six hundred insects in the course of one day.
This calculation proceeds upon the supposition, that the two birds
took only a single insect each time. But it is highly probable they
often took several at a time.

Perhaps the reason why the song of this little bird has
been especially admired and commended, is that it may be
heard when all, or nearly all, other feathered songsters are
silent. Gilbert White observes that, ' Wrens sing all the
winter through, frost excepted ;' and Ely the adds, * in frosty
weather also, when the sun shines.' While Grahame
says, —

Beside the Eedbreast's note, one other strain,
One summer strain, in wintry days is heard.
Amid the leafless thorn the merry Wren,
When icicles hang dripping from the rock,

116 SONG OF THE WREN.

Pipes her perennial lay ; even when the flakes
Broad as her pinions fall, she lightly flies
Athwart the shower, and sings upon the wing.

To this we may very appropriately add the fine moral lines
in reference to this bird, introduced by Bishop Mant : —

The quick note of the russet Wren,
Familiar to the haunts of men ;
He quits in hollowed wall his bower,
And through the winter's gloomy hour
Sings cheerily ; nor yet hath lost
His blitheness, chilled by pinching frost,
Nor yet is forced for warmth to cleave
To caverned nook, or straw-built eave,
Sing, gentle bird ! sing on, designed
A lesson for our anxious kind ;
That we, like thee, with hearts content
Enjoy the blessings God hath sent,
His bounty trust, perform his will,
Nor antedate uncertain ill !

To the same effect is likewise the testimony of Wood, who
says of this bird, that —

The song is short in stave, shrill, and remarkably loud in propor-
tion to the size of the bird. It may, perhaps, be ranked amongst
the most trivial of our feathered choristers, but the notes are more
prized than they would otherwise be, on account of their being
frequently heard in mid-winter, when a mere scream would almost
seem sweet, especially if it proceeded from the throat of so tiny a
bird as the Ivy Wren. And thus, insignificant and humble (with
regard to musical merit) as are its strains, I always listen to them
with delight in the dreary seasons, though we are apt to overlook
them altogether in fairer times. In fact, interesting as are some of
the habits of this species, it always conveys to one's mind the idea
of cold and of winter faggots, even in the midst of summer. It
often commences singing so early as January, mostly taking its
stand on a heap of sticks, a log of wood, a hedge abounding with
dead underwood, or a currant bush. Were it not that the bird is
generally so conspicuous, it would be difficult to believe that the
notes proceed from a creature of such small dimensions, so loud and
clear are they.

We may also quote Waterton, who, in his usual happy
manner, gives, in a few words, a sketch of our little brisk
favourite's characteristics : —

SKETCH BY WATERTON. 117

The Wren is at once distinguished in appearance from our
smaller British songsters by the erect position of its tail. Its
restlessness, too, renders it particularly conspicuous; for, when we
look at it, we find it so perpetually on the move, that I cannot
recollect to have observed this diminutive rover at rest on a branch
for three minutes in continuation. Its habits are solitary, to the
fullest extent of the word; and it seems to bear hard weather
better than either the Hedge Sparrow or the Eobin ; for whilst these
two birds approach our habitations in quest of food and shelter,
with their plumage raised as indicative of cold, the Wren may be
seen in ordinary pursuit, amid icicles which hang from the bare
roots of shrubs and trees, on the banks of the neighbouring rivulets,
and amongst these roots it is particularly fond of building its oval
nest. The ancients called the Wren Troglodytes; but it is now
honoured with the high-sounding name of Anorthura ; alleging for
a reason, that the ancients were quite mistaken in their supposition
that this bird was an inhabitant of caves, as it is never to be seen
within them. Methinks that the ancients were quite right — and
that our modern masters in ornithology are quite wrong. If we
only for a moment reflect that the nest of the Wren is spherical,
and is of itself, as it were, a little cave, we can easily imagine
that the ancients, on seeing the bird going in and out of this
artificial cave, considered the word Troglodytes an appropriate
appellation.

This little bird, we may add in continuation, which

When icicles hang dripping from the rock,
Pipes her perennial lay,

begins to build very early in the spring, fixing its nest
sometimes under the thatch of a building, sometimes on
the side of a moss- covered tree, or under an impending
bank ; ' the materials of the nest,' as Montagu remarks,
' being generally adapted to the place ; if built against the
side of a hay-rick, it is composed of twigs ; if against the
side of a tree covered with white moss, it is made of that
material ; and with green moss, if against a tree covered
with the same. Thus instinct directs it for security.7
Jesse, in his i Gleanings,' mentions that i he has a Wren's
nest in his possession built amongst some litter thrown into
a yard. It so nearly resembled the surrounding objects,
that it was only discovered by the bird's flying out of it.'
Some of the straws of which this nest was composed were
so thick, that it was a wonder how so small a bird could

118 AN ADEPT AT CONCEALMENT.

have used them. And is it not wonderful, altogether, the
intuitive skill of these tiny architects, that become so
perfect in their art, without any previous training or pre-
paration ? It would seem, too, that in the construction of
this abode of love, the labour is properly apportioned, one
bird not interfering with that department of the duty
which the other has, as it were by agreement, undertaken
to perform ; for a correspondent of the * Magazine of Na-
tural History7 relates, that in watching a pair of Wrens
building their nest in an old road, he observed that one
confined itself to the construction of the nest, and the other
to the collection of materials, which it regularly delivered
to the master builder, and never attempted to put into
their proper places. And well constructed is the shapely
little structure ; little to us, but large in proportion to the
birds which are to tenant it ; lined within with feathers
or some other soft substance. The nest of this little bird
is enormously large, roundish or oblong, composed chiefly of
moss, and lined with feathers. Eennie observes, that the
bird does not begin at the bottom of the nest first, as is
usual with most birds ; but if against a tree, first forms the
outline of the nest, which is of an oval shape, and by that
means fastens it equally strong to all parts, and afterwards
encloses the sides and top, near which it leaves a small
hole for an entrance. If the nest is placed under a bank,
the top is first begun, and well secured in some cavity by
which the fabric is suspended. Grahame gives an admirable
poetical description of it, which on account of its length
we cannot quote. Wordsworth also has some beautiful
lines on the Wren's nest, which must be excluded for the
same reason. Knapp has some interesting remarks on the
stratagems of a Wren to conceal from observation a nest
which was placed on the side of a rafter, inside a cowshed.
Lest the orifice of the cell should engage attention, the bird
had negligently hung a rugged piece of moss on the straw
work, concealing the entrance, and apparently proceeding
from the rafter. It would appear that the nest is some-
times built in the hollow of a tree, as we read in a local
paper, that while two sawyers were cutting a log of Stettin
oak, 26 inches square, at Sunderland, they discovered in

HOW CAN IT FIND ROOM? 119

the centre of the log a large hole, 10^- inches in length by
7| inches in breadth, filled with moss, feathers, hair, &c.,
and containing seven bird's eggs, which, from their dimi-
nutive size, were considered to be Wren's eggs. The tree,
from its immense size, is supposed to be of about 150
years' growth.

The Wren builds twice a year, in April and June, and
the brood is a large one, the number of eggs ranging from
ten to eighteen ; the eggs are of a roundish form, white,
and sprinkled near the larger end with faint red spots.
Grahame says : —

Fifteen white spherules, small as moorland harebell,

And prettily bespecked like foxglove flower,

Complete her number. Twice five days she sits,

Fed by her partner, never flitting off,

Save when the morning sun is high, to drink

A dewdrop from the nearest flowret cup.

And now behold the greatest of this train

Of miracles, stupendously minute ;

The numerous progeny claimants for food,

Supported by two small bills, and feeble wings

Of narrow range ; supplied, aye, daily fed ;

Fed in the dark, and yet not one forgot.

The latter of these lines is but a poetical paraphrase of the
observation of Willoughby, who says : i It is strange to
admiration that so small a bodied bird should feed such a
company of young, and not miss one bird, and that in the
dark also.' Kay ranks this circumstance among those daily
miracles of which we take no notice. Miracles, indeed,
are on every side of us. And this of the little Wren
nourishing into life her numerous progeny, and supplying
them with food afterwards, is not the least of them.

Wren, canst thou squeeze into a hole so small ?
asks James Montgomery ; and the bird replies —
Aye, with nine nestlings too, and room for all.
Go, compass sea and land in search of bliss,
And tell me if you find a happier home than this.

There are several traditions connected with this bird.
Here is one prevalent in the Isle of Man : —
In former times, a fairy of extraordinary beauty exercised such

120 HUNTING THE WREN.

undue influence over the male population, that she by her sweet
voice induced numbers to follow her, till by degrees she led them
into the sea, where they perished. This cruel exercise of power
was continued for a length of time, until at last it was apprehended
that the Isle of Man would have no protectors left. At this crisis a
knight-errant sprang up, who discovered means of counteracting the
charms used by the siren, and even laid a plot for her destruction,
which she only escaped at the moment of extreme hazard, by taking
the form of a Wren, when, by her rapid motion, she became invisible.
Though the Manx fairy thus escaped instant destruction, a spell
was thrown over her, by which she was compelled, once every suc-
ceeding year, to resume the form of this bird, with the definite
sentence that she must ultimately perish by human hands. In
commemoration of this superstition, on St. Stephen's Day the
following ceremony is still observed in one or two localities in the
island. Numbers assemble at early dawn, carrying long sticks,
with which they beat the hedges and bushes till they start a Wren,
which they then pursue with great shouting from bush to bush, till
the little creature is so tired as to be taken by the hand or knocked
down by the stick (wand) of its superstitious pursuers. It is then
fixed to the top of a long pole, to which a red handkerchief is sus-
pended by way of a banner, and in that manner it is carried round
the district.

A similar custom of hunting down this poor little bird,
and beating it to death, prevails in Ireland. Thompson
says : * It was the boast of an old man, who lately died at
the advanced age of one hundred, that he had hunted the
Wren for the last eighty years on Christmas Day.' On St.
Stephen's Day it appears that the children exhibit the
slaughtered birds in an ivy bush, decked with ribbons of
various colours, and go about to collect money, singing a
popular ditty, the first line of which is —

The Wren, the Wren, king of all birds.

And the story runs that once upon a time the birds
assembled to elect a king, and it was agreed that that bird
which could soar the highest should reign and rule over
the feathered world. Of course, the Eagle felt sure of
obtaining the imperial dignity, and soared away sunward,
leaving all competitors far behind, as he thought. Feeling
it was useless to dispute the sovereignty with him, the rest
of the birds were about to proclaim him king, when the
little Wren, who had concealed himself in the feathers of

THE HOOPOE. 121

the Eagle's crest, stepped out, and flying a few inches
higher, chirped as loudly as she could —

Birds, look up, and behold your king,
Great of soul, though a tiny thing.

THE HOOPOE ( Upupa Epops). — This is the only European
species of the genus Upupa, and in this country it is but
an occasional or accidental visitant, although specimens
have been taken in nearly all parts of England, as well as
in several districts of Scotland. It is a most elegant bird,
about as large as a Missel Thrush, than which, however, it
has a more slender form. The bill is extremely long, and
the legs very short, adapted for perching rather than walk-
ing. It has a handsome crest upon the head, composed of
a double row of long plumes, which can be erected at
pleasure. They are of a rich warm buff colour, and have
at the end a patch of white, tipped with velvet black;
pale brown and buff, shaded and marked with black,
patched and banded with white, are the prevailing tints of
the plumage, which on the whole is remarkably handsome
and striking, so that no one who has once seen the
bird can forget, or mistake it for any other. The Hoopoe,
which is a summer visitant from North Africa, seldom
comes into this country until the breeding season is over,
yet instances are on record of its having bred here. Thus
Montagu mentions that a pair in Hampshire left a nest
they had begun; and Jesse, in the third volume of his
' Gleanings,' says : * Some years ago, a pair of Hoopoes
built their nest, and hatched their young, in a tree, close to
the house at Park End, near Chichester.' Gilbert White
also relates : * The most unusual birds I ever observed in
these parts were a pair of Hoopoes, which came several
years ago in the summer, and frequented an ornamental
piece of ground which joins to my garden, for several
weeks. They used to march about in a stately manner,
feeding on the walks, many times a day, and seemed dis-
posed to breed in my outlet, but were frightened and
persecuted by idle boys, who would never let them be at
rest.'

122 MUDIE'S DESCRIPTION.

The Italians call this bird bubbola, most likely on
account of its peculiar cry, which resembles the syllables
bu, bu, bu, bu, bu, frequently and somewhat rapidly ut-
tered, with such a strong, sonorous voice, that it can be
heard a great distance, the bird while emitting it keeping
concealed among the trees.

Although strictly a bird of the woods, the Hoopoe may
be often seen in search of food in the fields and pastures.
It builds its nest usually in the natural hollow of a tree, or
in the deserted excavation of a Woodpecker ; it is com-
posed outwardly of feathers, and lined with hair of cows or
horses. Some authorities say it is made of dry cowdung
and roots ; others, grass and feathers. Probably it employs
all or any of these materials, as occasion serves. The eggs
are said to be from two to five in number, a little more
than an inch in length, and of a uniform light grey, or
blueish white colour.

Mudie, speaking of this bird, says : —

The length and slenderness of its bill indicate that it does not
find its food in the same places as the Creeper and the Nuthatch.
It picks up tadpoles, beetles, and other prey in moist and marshy
places, but it builds in the holes of trees or of rocks. They are said
to perch low, on the twigs of osiers and other shrubs that grow in
marshy places, but in this country they are seldom seen on the
perch. They have three calls — poon, slowly drawn out and thrice
repeated, when they perch ; boo, repeated the same number of times,
is the love-note of the male ; and they have a sharp half-hissing
half-grating cry when they are alarmed or irritated. Five is about
the greatest number of eggs, though there are seldom so many in
their northern broods ; but they are said to breed again once, and
even twice, in the south. The young are very voracious, and as the
substances on which they are fed are very liable to putrefaction, the
nests are most oifensive to the smell. That very circumstance
shows, however, the value of the birds in keeping the air pure,
especially in the hot countries where they are so abundant.

The Hoopoe walks well, and has the strut of some of the domestic
gallinse, and when dismayed it erects its crest and spreads its tail
like a fan, in the manner of a turkey-cock. Its flight through the air
is by leaps, or undulatory, and to appearance performed with consi-
derable labour, but from the long migrations which it makes, it must
be capable of long continuance.

Some derive the name of this bird from its ordinary cry
being supposed to resemble the syllables up, up, or puy

AN OMEN OF CALAMITY. 123

pu ; others derive it from the name of the crest in French,
kouppe. The specific, or second name of this bird, is the
same as that by which it was known to the ancient Greeks.
In the play of The Birds/ by Aristophanes, the Epops figures
as a principal character. By an old work we learn that
the appearance of the Hoopoe was formerly looked upon by
the common people as the harbinger of some calamity.
Several specimens of the bird have been shot during the
past year or two in different localities. ' When obtained
young,' says Bechstein, ' it can be easily reared on flesh,
which, however, it cannot pick up well, because its tongue
is too short to turn the food into the throat, so that it is
obliged to throw it up into the air, and receive it with
open bill.' The same author, in his ' Cage Birds,' states
that l independently of its beauty, it is attractive by the
drollness of its actions, making a continual motion with its
head, and tapping the floor with its beak.' A corres-
pondent of this author gives an account of two young
Hoopoes which he took from a nest placed on the top of an
oak. They were exceedingly tame, climbed on his clothes,
until they reached his shoulders or head, and caressed him
very affectionately. They were fond of beetles and May-
bugs, which they first killed and then bent them into a
ball, which they threw into the air and caught lengthwise.
A living specimen, which was in the possession of Mr.
Bartlett, a bird-stuffer of Museum Street, London, is de-
scribed by Yarrell as very playful and vivacious. It was
fed upon raw meat chopped, and boiled egg, and hid
superfluous food, which it returned to when hungry.
When allured to come out of its cage, it took short flights
about the room ; but could not be considered a bird of
great power on the wing. Yet the Bishop of Norwich has
recorded that one of these birds approached a vessel in the
middle of the Atlantic, and kept company with it a good
way, but did not settle on board, which it probably would
have done had it been tired.

A favourite locality for the Hoopoe on the Continent has
been thus described by a correspondent of the ' Magazine
of Natural History :' —

124 THE NUTHATCH.

On the Bordeaux side of the Garonne, and near the city, are
large spaces of marshy ground, intersected by broad ditches and
creeks terminating in the river ; where, from the advantage derived
from the water, many poplars and willows are planted for the sake
of the twigs, which are much used for tying vines. The trees being
topped at about ten or twelve feet from the ground, so as to induce
them to sprout much, become very thick, and in the course of a few
years, gradually decaying at the centre, are attacked by numerous
insects, particularly the jet ant (Formica fuliginosa). In these
retired places, which are frequented only by a few cowherds and
country people, the Hoopoe, which is a very shy bird, may be fre-
quently observed examining the rotten wood, and feeding on the
insects with which it abounds. The Hoopoe flies low and seldom,
unless when disturbed, its food being so abundant as to require
little search. It breeds in a hollow willow about the end of May.
The young come out in June.

Mr. Mitchell, in his poem, entitled ' Euins of many Lands,'
gives to the cry of the bird a soothing sound : —

Sweet is the bubbling fountain, cool and clear,

To him who, faint and weary, journeys here.

Such yonder flows — here some kind angel sent,

To waste so wild, this bright blest element.

Drink, thou poor steed ! while, couched on moss and flowers,

We stretch our limbs, and pass the sultry hours.

The almond tree, faint rustling o'er our head,

The rill that purls along its pebbly bed,

The green cicada chirping 'mid the grass,

The crested Hoopoes singing as they pass,

All charm the sense, and soothe the pensive heart,

And bid sweet dreams and gentlest fancies start.

THE NUTHATCH (Sitta Europcea). — This pretty little bird,
whose length is about five inches and three quarters, and
weight nearly one ounce, resembles the Woodpecker in
many of its habits, as will be seen by the description
which follows. It belongs to the order of Reptatrices, or
Creepers, and the family Sittince, or Nuthatches, of which
it is the only British representative. Its plumage is on
the upper parts of a blueish grey colour ; lower parts light
yellowish brown, deepening into brownish red at the sides.
There is a distinct black band passing from the base of the
bill over the eye to the back of the head. It is a stout
bird, with a very short tail, and resembles in some respects

HOW IT CRACKS NUTS. 125

the Tits. This species is not generally distributed over
England, being of very rare occurrence in the northern
parts: in Scotland it has, we believe, never been seen.
It keeps chiefly to woods and retired situations, and gene-
rally makes its nest in a decayed tree, sometimes taking
the deserted habitation of the Woodpecker, and construct-
ing the entrance with plaster of clay or mud, so as to leave
only just sufficient room for itself to pass in and out. Dead
leaves and moss form the lining of the cavity, or sometimes
only the dust of the decayed wood. The eggs, generally
six or seven in number, are of a dingy white colour, with
dusky spots. They are very like those of the Great Tit.

During incubation, the female, who is assiduously fed
by her partner, sits with great closeness and pertinacity,
rather suffering herself to be taken than desert her eggs.
Should an abduction be attempted, she will strike at the
invader with bill and wings, hiss like a snake, and make
every possible effort to drive off the invader of her fortress.
The eggs are hatched in May. There is seldom more than
one brood in a season. As soon as the young can provide
for themselves, they leave the parents, and retire into the
woods, where they seldom mingle much with other birds,
although they may be occasionally seen in company with
Titmice and Woodpeckers, than the latter of which birds
they are more expert climbers, running up and down the
tree in all directions, often with the head downwards,
which indeed seems to be a favourite position, especially
when building a nest. Macgillivray thus describes the
operations of this nimble little Nutcracker : — ' Like the
Creepers and Woodpeckers, it ascends the trunks and
branches of trees by means of its long curved claws, but
without employing its tail as a support, and it descends
in the same manner, head foremost, in which respect it
differs from all the birds that occur in our island. In
this manner it searches the bark for insects and larvae;
sometimes betakes itself for the same purpose to thatched
roofs, and occasionally alights on the ground, where it
proceeds by short leaps. Besides insects, it feeds on the
kernels of nuts, which having fixed in a convenient crevice
in the bark, it hammers with its strong pointed bill, until

126 ITS ACTIONS AND HABITS.

it perforates the shell, pivoting itself on its legs, and jerk-
ing its whole body forwards. All its actions are abrupt
and lively; it climbs by short jerks, perches with care on
the twigs, throws itself into various postures, and is often
seen with its head downwards, in which position it is even
said at times to sleep. Its flight is rapid, protracted on
occasion, but usually short. It has no song, being fur-
nished with only a single pair of inferior laryngeal muscles,
but utters a shrill cry at intervals.' * In the winter,' reports
Mr. Stanley, ' it is not quite mute, but has a small piping
note, not unlike that of the Creeper. This is a call-com-
pany note, inasmuch as the Nuthatch in winter feeds in
little companies or families of four or six individuals.
Another observer says : ' During the winter it was very
shy, and as far as my observation went, quite silent. By
the 10th of April, and before, it had become, I think, less
shy, and rather frequently uttered one or the other of its
two notes : these are a short broken twitting, and a short,
modulated, yet mellow-toned whistle.' And yet another
states, ' it has only a few short notes, one of them pecu-
liar, and so loud that it may be heard to a considerable
distance.'

It has been observed by several, that the bird ascends
the trunk of a tree in a spiral or zigzag manner, which it is
presumed is less for the purpose of making its ascent more
easy, than for that of enlarging its field of search. The
Rev. W. T. Brice, in * London's Magazine,' observes, that
4 during the operation of nutcracking, it sometimes happens
that the nut swerves from its fixture, and falls towards the
ground. It has not descended, however, for the space of
more than a few yards, when the Nuthatch, with admirable
adroitness, recovers it in its fall, and, replacing it in its
former position, commences the attack afresh. The fall of
the nut in the air, and its recovery by the bird on the
wing, I have seen repeated several times in the space of a
few minutes.'

In a state of captivity the Nuthatch is fed on hempseed,
barley, and nuts, all of which it cracks, or splits with its
bill. Its activity, cunning, and drollery render it an
agreeable pet ; but it must be kept in a cage entirely of

ANECDOTE OF TWO NUTHATCHES. 127

wire, as it destroys wood with its bill. Bechstein, in his
' Cage Birds/ relates an instance of its familiarity: —

A lady amused herself in winter with throwing seeds on the
terrace below the window to feed the birds in the neighbourhood.
She put some hempseeds and cracked nuts even on the window-sill
and on a board, particularly for her favourites, the Blue Tits. Two
Nuthatches came one day to have their share in this repast, and
were so well pleased that they became quite familiar, and did not
even go away in the following spring to get their natural food, and
to build their nest in the wood. They settled themselves in the
hollow of an old tree near the house. As soon as the two young
ones which they reared here were able to fly, they brought them to
the hospitable window where they were to be nourished, and soon
after disappeared entirely. It was amusing to see these two new
visitors hang or climb on the walls or blinds whilst their benefactress
put their food on the board. These pretty creatures, as well as the
Tits, knew her so well, that when she drove away the Sparrows
which came to steal what was intended for them, they did not fly
away also, but seemed to know what was done was only to protect
and defend them. They remained near the house for the whole
summer, rarely wandering, till one fatal day at the beginning of the
sporting season, in autumn, when on hearing the report of a gun,
they disappeared and were never seen again.

According to Gilbert White, this is sometimes called
the Jar-bird, because it makes a clatter with its bill against
a dead bough, or some old pales, which may be heard a
long way off. This author also states that the rapping
noise is sometimes caused by the efforts of the bird to
break the shell of the nut, on which it intends to feed.
He remarks that ' there are three creatures — the squirrel,
the field-mouse, and the Nuthatch — which live much on
hard nuts, and yet they open them each in a different
way : the first, after rasping off the small end, splits the
shell in two with his long fore- teeth as a man does with
his knife ; the second nibbles a hole with his teeth, as if
drilled with a whimble, and yet so small that one wonders
how the kernel can be extracted through it ; while the
last pecks an irregular rugged hole with its bill.' It is
this close observation of nature which renders the ' Natural
History of Selborne ' so valuable. All students of nature
should cultivate the habit of watching narrowly, and

128 DESCRIBED BY MANT.

recording carefully and minutely, the analogies, and also the
differences, however slight, which they observe.

We close our account of this interesting bird with Bishop
Mant's admirably descriptive lines : —

Hark to that chattering noise afar,

Which with repeated frequent jar

Sounds from the depths of yonder wood,

And mars its silent solitude !

Approach, but gently and with care,

Lest you the busy woodman scare,

And of this craft's rich meed despoil.

See where, intent upon his toil,

He stands, and smites with frequent blow

Of his hard bill the prize below.

Firm in that chink, tenacious shut,

As in a vice, the hazel nut ;

The frequent blow the nut resists,

And now around he turns and twists

His anvil, that a part more weak

May feel the impression of his beak,

Which by the body's powerful swing

Propelled, makes loud and louder ring

The thicket, till the vanquished shell

Yields to the mighty master's spell,

And at his foot the hidden prize

Disclosed, the precious kernel lies.

'Tis but a slight and feeble bird

Thus far off through the thicket heard,

The little Nuthatch. But the skill

And vigour of his pickaxe bill,

The force of his expanded feet,

So firm to grasp, to run so fleet,

As up and down with motion free,

He climbs, descends, the forest tree ;

Nor least of all, his mingled hue

Of chestnut, buff, white, grey, and blue,

Will with the sight our care repay

In wandering by the woodland way.

129

THE SONG THBUSH.

CHAPTER X.

THRUSHES ' — THE SONG THRUSH, MISSEL THRUSH, WHITENS
THRUSH.

IN the family Turdince, Turdine birds, or Thrushes, we
have seven British species, two of which are well known,
and highly valued as songsters. All our native Thrushes
are birds of considerable size, and to a certain extent agree
in their general habits : thus they seek their food in fields
and pastures, where they advance by short leaps, but
betake themselves to woods and thickets to roost.

SONG THRUSH. — This is the Turdus musicus of natural-
ists, a name sufficiently indicative of the high estimation in
which it has ever been held as a songster. It is sometimes
called the Throstle, or Mavis, the latter name being that
commonly applied to it by old English writers — a large
handsome bird, with a speckled plumage of yellowish or
reddish brown and white, too well known to every one
to need a particular description. It is a permanent resident
throughout the whole of Great Britain and Ireland, found
in the bare northern isles, as well as in the cultivated and
wooded districts of the south ; keeping during the summer
very much to the woods and hill sides, bosky dells, and

130 A SNAIL DESTROYER.

banks of streams well covered with bushes and thick vege-
tation. In winter it comes near to the towns and villages
to feed in the fields and gardens, in search after small
earthworms, grubs, beetles, &c. It also eats berries and
seeds of various kinds, and when hard pressed, resorts to
the shores, and finds subsistence by breaking the whelks
and other shell-fish. The bird's ability to accomplish this
latter feat has been questioned, but Macgillivray states that
he has seen it in the act of breaking the shell of a whelk,
which was inserted in a recess between two flat stones, by
repeated taps of its bill. Gilbert White and Knapp both
testify to the bird's capability of breaking the shells of
snails. The latter says : —

I do not recollect any creature less obnoxious to harm than the
common snail (Helix aspersa) of our gardens. A sad persevering
depredator and mangier it is, and when we catch it at its banquet
on our walls, it can expect no reprieve from our hands. But our
captures are partial and temporary ; and, secured in its strong shell,
it seems safe from external dangers ; yet its time comes, and one
weak bird destroys it in great numbers. In the winter season, the
common Song Thrush feeds sparingly on the berries of the white-
thorn, and the hedge fruits, but passes a great portion of its time at
the bottoms of ditches, seeking for the smaller species of snails
(Helix hortensis and Helix nemoralis\ which it draws out from the
old stumps of the fence with unwearied perseverance, dashing their
shell to pieces on a stone, and we frequently see it escaping from the
hedge bank with its prize, which no little intimidation induces it to
relinquish. The larger kind at this season are beyond its power
readily to obtain, for, as the cold weather advances, they congregate
in clusters behind some old tree, or against a sheltered wall, fixing
the opening of their shells against each other, or on the substance
beneath, and adhering so firmly in a mass, that the Thrush cannot
by any means draw them wholly or singly from their asylum. In
the warmer portion of the year they rest separate, and adhere but
slightly, and should the summer be a dry one, the bird makes ample
amends for the disappointment in winter, intrudes its bill under the
margin of the opening, detaches them from their hold, and destroys
them in great numbers. In the summers of 1825 and 1826, both
hot and dry ones, necessity rendered the Thrush unusually assiduous
in its pursuits ; and every large stone in the lane, or under the old
hedge, was strewed with the fragments of its banquet.

Yarrell gives an excellent character to this feathered
favourite : —

A FRIEND IN NEED.

Mr, Knapp, in his ' Journal of a Naturalist,' has related
an interesting fact in reference to the Thrush, in the follow-
ing terms : —

We observed this summer two common Thrushes frequenting the
shrubs on the green in our garden. From the slenderness of their
forms and the freshness of their plumage, we pronounced them to be
birds of the preceding summer. There was an association and
friendship between them that called our attention to their actions.
One of them seemed ailing, or feeble from some bodily accident ; for
though it hopped about, yet it appeared unable to obtain sufficiency
of food. Its companion, an active sprightly bird, would frequently
bring it worms or bruised snails, when they mutually partook of the
banquet ; and the ailing bird would wait patiently, understand the
actions, expect the assistance of the other, and advance from his
asylum upon its approach. This procedure was continued for some
days ; but after a time we missed the fostered bird, which probably
died, or by reason of its weakness met with some fatal accident.

Although the song of the Thrush may be heard throughout
the greater part of the year, yet it is in the months of
April, May, and June, that it is most jubilant and frequent.
The birds pair in March, and about the beginning of April
begin to construct the nest, which is composed externally
of slender twigs, roots, grass, and moss, and is lined with a

132 THE THRUSH'S NEST.

thin layer of mud, cowdimg, or rotten wood, neatly ; be-
tween this and the eggs no other substance is interposed ;
the materials however vary considerably. The nest is
placed in a thick bush, or on a hedge not far up, or on a
bank among the woody undergrowth ; it is sometimes
found among the stunted willows on the bank of a stream,
also in the crevice of a rock, or at the root of a tuft of
heath. The eggs are generally five in number, of a bright
blueish green colour, with scattered spots of brownish black,
which are more numerous at the larger end ; the}' vary con-
siderably in size, the maximum length being a little over
an inch. They are deposited towards the end of April,
and the young have been found abroad from the 20th of
April to the middle of June. A second brood is reared
in the season. The poet Clare has thus faithfully de-
scribed the

THBUSH'S NEST,

Within a thick and spreading hawthorn bush,

That overhung a mole-hill large and round,
I heard from morn to morn a merry Thrush

Sing hymns to sunrise, while I drank the sound
With joy ; and often an intruding guest,

I watched her sweet toils on from day to day ;
How true she warped the moss to form her nest,

And modelled it within with wood and clay ;
And by-and-bye, like heath-bells gilt with dew,

There lay her shining eggs as bright as flowers,
Ink-spotted-over shells of green and blue ;

And there I witnessed, in the summer hours,
A brood of nature's minstrels chirp and fly,
Glad as the sunshine and the laughing sky.

Let us place beside this Grahame's cabinet picture o;
the home and domestic arrangements of the speckled
songster of the grove : —

Within the hazel bush or sloe is found

The habitation of the wedded pair ;

Sometimes behind the never-fading leaves

Of ivy close that ever-twisting binds

And richly crowns with clustering fruit of spring

Some silver rock, or nodding castle wall ;

Sometimes beneath the jutting root of elm

LOVE- TAUGHT WARBLINGS. 133

Or oak, among the sprigs that overhang
A pebble-chiding stream, the loam-lined house
Is fixed, well hid from ken of hov'ring hawk,
Or lurking beast, or schoolboy's prowling eye.

And there — as we have often seen her, when informed of
her whereabouts by the low soft note of connubial bliss
which her mate ever and anon interrupts his louder and
more exultant strain to emit — we have put aside the
entwining branches, and peeped into that abode of love —
sits the patient mother brooding on her eggs ; or it may be
that those beautiful tinted eggs which Clare compares to
* Heath bells gilt with dew,' have opened and allowed their
inmates to escape, and we may realise the picture drawn
by Burns : —

Within a milk-white hawthorn bush
Among her nestlings sits the Thrush ;
Her faithful mate will share her toil,
And wi' his songs her cares beguile.

And loud and clear will that strain of his ring through
the coppice ; not far away will he fly from the objects of
his solicitude, lest danger should approach them, and he not
be there to give the warning note. On the tall branch of a
tree, or some other elevated resting-place, he sits and
pours out his full heart in song : —

Beyond the clust'ring filbert's high-raised arch,
The arbour wide expands its ample space,
In cool recess impervious to the beam
Of ardent Sol, when from meridian height
With blaze intense he pours the flood of day ;
Perched on the fickle vane the cheerful Thrush
In love-taught warblings cheers his constant mate,
As in the friendly covert close she broods
With patient fondness o'er her callow young.

Cold indeed must that heart be that does not thrill in
unison with the swelling strain of the sylvan songster,
when he pours forth his matin or vesper hymn, or his
noontide or eventide song of praise, to the great Creator
of all things, and giver of all good gifts.

The lines last quoted are by an humble poetess who

134 A FINE SONGSTER.

listened to the Thrush among the richly wooded vales of
Kent. Burns, the Scottish ploughman, by the braes of
Logan and Ballochmyle, has sung the praise of this bird,
which seems to have been an especial favourite with him.
Clare, the peasant poet of Northamptonshire, has given us,
in simple yet forcible lines, a picture of the bird at home ;
and now let Bloomfield tell how

The Blackbird strove with emulation sweet,
And Echo answer' d from her close retreat ;
The sporting Whitethroat, on some twig's end borne,
Pour'd hymns to freedom and the rising morn ;
Stopt in her song perchance, the starting Thrush
Shook a white shower from the blackthorn bush,
Where dew-drops thick as early blossoms hung,
And trembled as the minstrel sweetly sung.

In a note to White's l Selborne,' we find a remarkable
instance of the Thrush's familiarity with man during the
nesting period : — * In the neighbourhood of Pitlessie, in
Fife, a pair of Thrushes built their nest in a cart-shed,
while four wheelwrights were engaged in it as a workshop.
It was placed between one of the hulls of the harrow and
the adjoining tooth. The men were busily employed at
the noiseful work of joining wood all the day, yet these
birds flew in and out at the door of the shed, without fear
or dread, and finished their nest with mortar. On the
second day, the hen laid her first egg ; while sitting she was
occasionally relieved by the cock. In thirteen days the
birds came out of the shells, which the old ones always
carried off. They fed their young with shell-snails, butter-
flies and moths.'

Neville Wood says —

The Garden Thrush is universally allowed to be one of the
finest of our songsters, and to hear it on a clear April morn-
ing is certainly very delightful ; though, when heard close, and
alone, its strains sound desultory and even harsh. It is en-
tirely devoid of the deep and rich — I had almost said sublime —
melody of the Garden Ouzel. Its song, however, forms an excellent
addition to the vernal chorus, especially if heard in the distance.
The most favourable time for hearing it is early in the morning or
late in the evening, when it certainly sounds to great advantage. It

THE THRUSH'S FAREWELL. 135

sings earlier and later in the day than most of our sylvan choristers,
and I never enjoyed its song so much as when waiting for the Brake
Nightingale to strike up. Then indeed it is peculiarly delightful
even to hear them sending forth their alarm-notes, bidding good-
night as it were to their companions : when, but a few minutes
before, the woods had rung with their charming melody, all is now
still, and nothing of the Garden Thrushes is heard but their ' good-
night.' When one individual shouts out this farewell from his airy-
bed, he is answered on all sides by dozens of others, and then for a
few minutes deep silence reigns in the woods, until, all vulgar song-
sters having ended their tales, the Brake Nightingale commences
his. The Garden Thrush continues singing till it is nearly dark,
and one or two individuals keep up much later. In the long days
he commences at one o'clock in the morning, and I have frequently
been out at this time on purpose to hear it singing.

Richard Howitt, we remember, thus alludes to the even-
ing song of this bird : —

High in the dawn the Lark will sing

O'er mountain and o'er river,
Wafting that worship on free wing

To the all-bounteous Giver.

The Thrush at eve as sweet as loud,

Of joy like large partaker,
Will sing amid the singing crowd

Yet louder to his Maker.

Macgillivray thus beautifully describes one of the localities
in which he has observed this bird, and the soothing effect
of its music : —

The Song Thrush is associated in my memory with the Hebrides,
where it is perhaps more abundant than in most parts of Britain.
There, in the calm summer evening, such as for placid beauty far
exceeds any that I have elsewhere seen, when the glorious sun is
drawing towards the horizon, and shedding a broad glare of ruddy
light over the smooth surface of the ocean; when the scattered
sheep, accompanied by their frolicsome lambkins, are quietly
browsing on the hill ; when the broad- winged eagle is seen skim-
ming along the mountain ridge, as he wends his way toward his
eyrie on the far promontory ; when no sound comes on the ear, save
at intervals the faint murmur of the waves, rushing into the caverns,
and rising against the faces of the cliffs ; when the western breeze
stealing over the flowery pastures carries with it the perfume of the
wild thyme and white clover ; the song of the Thrush is poured
forth from the summit of some granite block, shaggy with grey

136 ITS HOME IN THE HEBRIDES.

lichens, and returns in softer and sweeter modulations from the sides
of the heathy mountains. There may be wilder, louder, and more
marvellous songs, and the Mocking-bird may be singing the requiem
of the red Indian of the Ohio, or cheering the heart of his ruthless
oppressor, the white man of many inventions ; but to me it is all-
sufficient, for it enters into the soul, melts the heart into tenderness,
diffuses a holy calm, and connects the peace of earth with the trans-
cendent happiness of heaven. In other places the song of the
Thrush may be lively and cheering ; here, in the ocean-girt solitude,
it is gentle and soothing : by its magic influence it smoothes the
ruffled surface of the sea of human feelings, as it floats over it at
intervals with its varied swells and cadences, like the perfumed
wavelets of the summer wind.

Here on the hill-side lay thee down on this grassy bank, beside
the block of gneiss that in some convulsion of primeval times has
been hurled unbroken from the fissured crag above. On the slope
beneath are small winding plots of corn, with intervals of pasture,
and tufts of the yellow iris. The coast is here formed of shelving
crags and jutting promontories ; there, stretches along in a winding
beach of white sand, on which the wavelets rush with gentle mur-
murs. Flocks of Mergansers and dusky Cormorants are fishing in
the bay, the white Grannets are flying in strings toward the ocean,
the Eock-doves glide past on whistling pinions, and the joyous
Starlings bound toward their rocky homes. Hark to the cry of the
Corn-crake, softened by distance, now seeming to come from afar,
now louder as if borne toward you by the breeze. It has ceased,
but the Cuckoo calls to his mate from the cairn on the hill. Again
all is silent. The streaks in the channel show that the tide is ebb-
ing ; a thin white vapour is spread over the distant islands ; and
beyond them the spirit wings its flight over the broad surface of the
ocean to where the air and the waters blend on the western horizon.
But it is recalled by the clear loud notes of that speckled warbler,
that in the softened sunshine pours forth his wild melodies on the
gladdened ear. Listen, and think how should you describe the
strain, so as to impress its characters on the mind of one who never
heard it. Perhaps you might say that it consists of a succession of
notes greatly diversified, repeated at short intervals with variations,
and protracted for a long time ; that it is loud, clear, and mellow,
generally sprightly, but at times tender and melting. You might
add that two birds at a distance from each other often respond, the
one commencing its song when the other has ceased; and that
sometimes several may be heard at once, filling a whole glen with
their warblings.

With us the Thrush is very much the songster of the
road-side copse or plantation, garden, or orchard ; we fre-
quently hear it close to the humble dwellings of the poor,

THE THRUSH AND THE POETS. 137

as though it delighted to cheer with its music the hearts of
the sons of toil.

A flute-like melody is thine, 0 Thrush !

Full of rich cadences, and clear and deep ;
Upon the sense it cometh like a gush

Of perfume, stolen by the winds that sweep

Where spice-isles gem the bosom of the deep ;
At early morn, and 'mid the evetide's hush,

Pouring thy mellow music, thou dost peep
From out the lilac tree or hawthorn bush.
I love thee for the love thou bear'st the lowly.

The cottage garden is thy favourite haunt ;
And in those hours so calm, so pure, so holy,

It ever is thy pleasure forth to chaunt
Those blithesome poems, seeming as it were
Thy wish to make all happy dwelling there.

From the quotations already given, it will be seen that
our modern poets love the Thrush, which was also a
favourite with those of bygone times : thus Spenser relates
of one of his heroes : —

Now, when as Calepine was waxen strong,

Upon a day he cast abroad to wind,

To take the air and hear the Thrush's song.

William Brown exclaims with evident delight —

See the spring
Is the earth enamelling
And the birds in every tree
Greet the morn with melody.
Hark ! how yonder Throstle chaunts it,
And her mate as proudly vaunts it.

Then Douglas bids us listen to

The Throstle with shrill sharps as purposely he sung

T' wake the morning sun, or chiding that so long

He was in coming forth, that should the thicket thrill.

The Germans have an old cradle song, which assigns a
soothing influence to the strain of this bird ; it has been
thus translated : —

Sweet child, while not a breath around
Disturbs thy slumbers soft and sound,

138 THE MISSEL THRUSH.

Save where the Thrush that hovers nigh,
Sends from the hedge sweet lullaby.

Many more passages might be quoted from the old poets
of the like character to the above, but this will be suffi-
cient. One more modern poem in conclusion : many offer
themselves, but let us take that by Barry Cornwall, to

THE WOOD THRUSH.

Whither hath the Wood Thrush flown

From our greenwood bowers ?
Wherefore builds he not again

Where the whitethorn flowers ?

Bid him come ! for on his wings

The sunny year he bringeth ;
And the heart unlocks its springs,

Wheresoe'er he singeth.

Lover-like the creature waits,

And when morning soareth,
All his little soul of song

Tow'rd the dawn he poureth.

Sweet one, why art thou not heard

Now, where woods are stillest ?
Oh, come back ! and bring with thee

Whatsoe'er thou wiliest.

Laughing thoughts, delighting songs,

Dreams of azure hours,
Something, nothing ; all we ask

Is to see thee ours !

'Tis enough that thou should'st sing

For thy own pure pleasure ;
'Tis enough that thou hast once

Sweetened human leisure.

THE MISSEL THRUSH (Turdus viscivorus). — Variously
called the Grey, Holm, or Screech Thrush, the Storm Cock,
or Shrike. Very like the common Thrush in appearance and
habits, this bird is distinguished from it by its larger size,
generally measuring upwards of eleven inches in length,
with a spread of wing exceeding eighteen inches. It is the
largest European bird of its genus, and is a permanent

SEARCHING FOR FOOD.

139

resident in Britain, through which it is generally diffused.
Not all, however, which are seen here in the winter remain
through the year ; for some flocks arrive in October, on
a visit, as it would appear, to their British friends, and
depart again in May, so that Missel Thrushes are most

MISSEL THRUSH.

plentiful here during the inclement season. They fly about
in little parties, seldom exceeding twenty in number, and
search for worms, larvae, and seeds in the open fields,
especially those which have been recently ploughed. ' On
alighting,' says Macgillivray, i the bird stands for some time
with the body and tail inclined, the head raised, the wings
slightly drooping. Should it descry symptoms of danger,
it alarms its companions by a low, harsh scream, when they
all remain attentive for awhile, and fly off, or should they
judge themselves safe, commence their search, in prose-
cuting which they scatter about more than the Fieldfares
or Redwings. If you watch the motions of one, you see it
hop smartly along, stop to pick up an object, then resume
the attitude of observation, hop forward, dig up a worm,
break it in pieces, and swallow it; then start again, and
thus continue until disturbed, or put to flight. Mudie
gives us the following account of the habits of this bird : —

140 WHY CALLED THE STORM COCK.

The Missel Thrush being found chiefly in those wooded and shel-
tered places where the winter is neither the longest nor the most
severe, and meeting with berries at the times when the snow keeps it
from the ground, is much better fed at that season than many of
the other birds. In ordinary seasons, indeed, it is never very long
without animal food, because it is very persevering and very adroit
in finding snails and slugs in their winter retreats ; so that it is
among the first birds to feel the turn of the year, and though its
note is not so mellifluous and varied as that of the Song Thrush, it is
still both powerful and musical; and as it is the first that is heard
in the woodland after the howling of the wind among the leafless
branches, and heard even during the fitful pauses of that, when the
February or even the January sun flings a momentary ray of hope
upon the doubtful year, it is perhaps hailed with more fondness than
the song of the Nightingale itself, which is never heard till the
season has so far budded and bloomed as to be full of life and hope
without the Nightingale.

Perched upon some leafless tree, and haply near a branch of that
mistletoe which has been a bone of contention between the bird and
the rustics — the one for his Christmas dinner, and the other for his
Christmas sport — the Missel Thrush shakes the surrounding air with
his melody ; and while we listen to the strain, we feel that the
promise of nature's bounty for another year is announced at the
very time when we have been sharing most plentifully the fruits of
the year which has gone by. For some time the song of the bird alter-
nates with those varying winds which at that season shake the earth,
and sometimes uproot the trees, though they also mollify the clods.
When the black cloud comes over, and the sleet pelts, or the snow
drives, the bird glides down to his shelter ; but as soon as it is over,
he is again on his perch and at his song, nor does he cease till other
choristers have come to bear their part in that morning song with
which the children of nature welcome in the year.

We see here the reason why this bird is called the Storm
Cock. It begins to sing at so early a period of the year,
that it is particularly liable to be overtaken by gloom and
sleety showers, which it does not appear to heed, but sings
on, despite of adverse circumstances, like one that puts his
trust in God, and feels more under the protection of an
Almighty arm. The following sonnet, by i Virginia,' from
* Hood's Magazine,' well expresses the feeling with which
we should hear its inspiriting lay : —

Oh, how I love to listen to thy song,
Sweet bird, that, earliest of the choral throng,
Pourest thy notes of gratitude and glee
Ere blooms a flowret forth, or buds a tree ;

WHY THE MISSEL THRUSH. 141

Ere yet is hushed the wintry howling wind,
Or twig of green thy little feet can find,
So thankfully thy heart its love-song pours
For hope alone of warmer, happier hours,
That I cry shame upon my thankless tears,
Shame on the heart that calls up phantom fears,
Mindless of all but of its present grief,
Nor finding in Hope's whisperings relief.
Oh, then I pray thee, hover in my way,
For I would emulate thy cheerful lay.

But Knapp tells us that the Screech Cock is the herald
of storms, and appears to take delight in this vocation.
He says: —

The approach of a sleety snow-storm following a deceitful gleam
in spring is always announced to us by the loud untuneful voice of
the Missel Thrush, as it takes its stand on some tall tree, like an
enchanter calling up the gale. It seems to have no song, no voice,
but this harsh predictive note, and it in great measure ceases with
the storms of spring. We hear it occasionally in autumn, but its
voice is not then prognostic of any change of weather. The Missel
Thrush is a wild and wary bird, keeping generally in open fields
and commons, heaths, and unfrequented places, feeding upon worms
and insects. In severe weather it approaches our plantations and
shrubberies, to feed on the berry of the mistletoe, the ivy, or the
scarlet fruit of the holly, or the yew ; and should the Redwing or
the Fieldfare presume to partake of these with it, we are sure to
hear its voice in clattering and contention with the intruders, until
it drives them from the place, though it watches and attends, not-
withstanding, to its own safety. In April it begins to prepare its
nest. This is large, and so openly placed as would, if built in the
cop, infallibly expose it to the plunder of the Magpie and the
Crow, which at this season prey upon the eggs of every nest they
can find. To avoid this evil, it resorts to our gardens and our
orchards, seeking protection from man, near whose haunts those
rapacious plunderers are careful of approaching; yet they will at
times attempt to seize upon its eggs even there, when the Thrush
attacks them and drives them away with a hawk-like fury ; and the
noisy warfare of the contending parties occasionally draws our atten-
tion to them. The call of the young birds to their parents for food
is unusually disagreeable, and reminds us of the croak of a frog.
The brood being reared, it becomes again a shy and wild creature,
abandons our homesteads, and returns to its solitudes and heaths.

By the foregoing accounts of the bird's habits, we think
our readers will have learned why it is called the Missel
Thrush. The popular name Shrite has no doubt reference

142 WHY THE SCREECH, OR HOLM THRUSH.

to the harsh screeching note which it frequently utters,
although it is not so devoid of melody as Knapp states it
to be. Macgillivray says that its song resembles that of the
Blackbird, but its notes are less mellow and modulated,
though equally loud. One of its popular names is the Holm
Thrush, probably owing to its partiality for the oak, from
the top of which it will sometimes repeat its song for an
hour together. The holm is an old name for the oak ; thus,
Spenser speaks of

The fruitful olive and the plantaine round,

The branched holm, the maple, seldom inward sound.

The bird sometimes builds its nest in the oak ; this is
somewhat bulky, composed externally of twigs, straw, and
grasses of various kinds, interspersed with leaves arid mosses.
Within this is a layer of mud, often mixed with fine grass
or fibrous roots. Sometimes the exterior is covered with
grey lichens and mosses, so as to assimilate it to the bark
of the tree on which it is placed, not usually very high up.
The eggs, mostly four in number, are of a purplish white
colour, marked with irregular spots of light brownish red and
purplish red. Two broods are generally reared in a season.
The parent birds defend their eggs and young with great
courage, and drive off the Magpie and other assailants, in-
cluding even, it is said, the Sparrowhawk. Then we have it
on good authority that they themselves are obnoxious to the
charge of rapacity. Mr. Weir states that this is one of the
most voracious of our native birds, and says that he has seen
it carrying on its murderous operations, killing the young of
the Song Thrush and other birds, and bearing them off to
its nest. Such is, however, not their general food, and we
are inclined to think that their rapacity has been overrated,
though they are great destroyers of worms and snails. It
was observed by Mr. Weir that a pair of them, which had
built their nest at the extremity of the lowest branch of a
spruce, within thirty-three yards of his dwelling-house, fed
their young sixty-six times during the day, bringing each
time several large worms and snails. Before taking these
to the nest, they generally alighted upon two or three trees,
and remained some seconds upon each of them, looking

CHARLOTTE SMITH'S ODE. 143

round with the greatest jealousy and circumspection. This
is very characteristic of the bird's shy and wary nature.
Mr. Alexander Hepburn says : — * Missel Thrushes are very
wary birds. When they come to our gardens to eat the
berries of the yew, holly, ivy, or mountain ash, they alight
on a row of tall willow trees to see if they may remain in
safety ; and on finding matters according to their wishes,
descend to the fruit, making a prodigious noise. They are
very quarrelsome among themselves, and drive off the
Blackbird and Song Thrushes, and even pursue them on foot
round the roots of the evergreens, all the while uttering
their harsh notes.' The following lines are from Charlotte
Smith's

ODE TO THE MISSEL THRUSH.

The winter solstice scarce is past,

Loud is the wind, and hoarsely sound
The mill-streams in the swelling blast ;

And cold and humid is the ground
When to the ivy that embowers

Some pollard tree, or sheltering rock,
The troop of timid warblers flock,

And shuddering, wait for milder hours,

While thou ! the leader of their band,

Fearless salut'st the opening year,
Nor stay'st till blow the breezes bland,

That bid the tender leaves appear.
But on some tow' ring elm or pine,

Waving elate thy dauntless wing,
Thou joy'st thy love-notes wild to sing,

Impatient of St. Valentine.

Oh, herald of the spring ! while yet

No harebell scents the woodland lane,
Nor starwort fair, nor violet,

Braves the bleak gust and driving rain ;
JTis thine, as through the copses rude

Some pensive wanderer sighs along,
To soothe him with a cheerful song,

And tell of hope and fortitude !

WHITE'S THRUSH (Turdus Whitei). — This bird, of which
we here give a cut, is somewhat larger than the Song Thrush,
and rests its claim to admission into the British fauna on

144 WHITE'S THRUSH.

two specimens said to have been shot, one in the New
Forest, Hampshire, and one at Heron Court, Christchurch,
the seat of the Earl of Malmesbury. It is therefore some-
times called the Hampshire Thrush. Macorillivray terms it

WHITE S THRUSH.

the Variegated Thrush (Turdus varius). Specimens iden-
tical with this have been sent from Java and Australia.
Dr. Horsfield in his l Zoological Eesearches in Java,' states
that the bird inhabits the thick forests which cover the
mountain Prahu, and that as far as his observation goes, it
never leaves a region between six and seven thousand feet
above the level of the ocean. On this circumscribed region
it is extremely abundant. Its food consists chiefly of insects
and worms. It is easily surprised by the natives. Some
naturalists, however, consider Lord Malmesbury's specimen,
and those from Java, as distinct species, but this is a ques-
tion which at present it is impossible to decide. The bird
here figured is about 10 i inches long, and has a plumage
of yellowish brown upon the upper parts, lunated with
brownish black ; throat, neck, breast and sides white, with
a yellowish tinge below the throat, also lunated with
brownish black. The bird has all the characteristics of the
genus Turdince.

145

BLACKBIRD.

CHAPTER XI.

THRUSHES CONTINUED BLACKBIRD, RING OUZEL,

FIELDFARE, AND REDWING.

E BLACKBIRD (Turdus Merula), whose glossy black
_|_ plumes and golden bill must be sufficiently familiar
to our readers, is found in all the wooded and cultivated
tracts of England, Scotland, and Ireland ; it is the Merle,
as old writers termed it, or the Garden Ouzel as we some-
times call it, and especially in the neighbourhood of
towns, amid gardens and orchards, tall hedgerows and
leafy copses, may its loud, clear, mellow song be heard
from morning till night, and from the beginning of spring
till the middle of July, and sometimes quite late into the
autumn.

There so loud the Blackbird sings
That far and near the valley rings.

Mudie says —

The Blackbird nestles quite close to the house, on ivied walls, in
old trees, and thick bushes, and at a moderate height from the
ground. The nest is made of moss and sticks, plastered inside
with mud, and lined with soft and dry matters. The brood is from
three to six, but rarely the latter number; and the eggs are of a

146 AN INDISCRIMINATE FEEDER.

greenish blue, with very obscure dusky markings. But, as is the
case with most birds that frequent cultivated districts, the colour
both of the birds and eggs is subject to variety.

The Blackbird sings early; and though there is not nearly so
much spirit and variety in his song as in that of the Thrush, it is
soft and clear, and has a sort of flute-like tone which makes a
pleasant variety among the number of more sharp and trilling
voices. There are usually two, and frequently three, broods of
Blackbirds in the year, and thus the song continues through a great
part of the season, though it is not heard so continually, so long at
a time, or from so lofty a perch, as that of the Thrush. Notwith-
standing its solitary and hiding habits, the Blackbird is more
easily tamed and more patient of restraint than the Thrush.

In a wild state the Blackbird appears to be a somewhat
indiscriminate feeder.

Having, [says Macgillivray,] opened five individuals, I found
in the stomach of one a great quantity of seeds, and husks of
graminae, including wheat and oats ; in that of another coleopterous
insects; in that of a third coleoptera, and seeds of various kinds;
in that of the fourth, mollusca, and fragments of shells ; in that of
the fifth, seeds, mollusca, and a few grains of gravel. Earthworms,
larvae, berries, and seeds of various kinds, I have also observed in
the stomachs of numerous individuals which I have opened.

It is amusing to observe a Blackbird searching for food on the
smooth green of a garden, which one may easily do from the
window without being noticed. In December 1832 I watched one
in order to note its motions. After looking quietly at a particular
spot for some time, it hopped up, began to peck the ground with
great energy, and after some exertion succeeded in dragging out a
worm of moderate size, which it immediately threw on the ground.
It then pecked at the worm for nearly a minute, and beginning at
one end, separated by a sudden stroke a small portion, which it
swallowed. In this manner it proceeded until it had devoured the
whole, not swallowing at any time more than a small fragment. It
then hopped about, looking now and then attentively at a certain
spot, and at length began to dig vehemently for another worm,
which it soon procured. This was the first time that I had closely
watched a Blackbird while searching for worms; but I have since
had repeated opportunities of convincing myself that it always pro-
ceeds in the same manner, never swallowing an entire worm, unless
it happens to be extremely small, and cutting the very large ones
into a great number of pieces.

In almost every temperate region of the earth may the
glossy plumes — according to Buffon of a more decided
black than even those of the raven — of the Blackbird be

FOUND EVERYWHERE. 147

seen ; and its mellow note may be heard, not only
throughout the whole of Europe, but also in Syria, and
other parts of Northern Asia. A British traveller,
Buchanan, who many years since penetrated into the rocky
fastnesses of the Nepaulese territory, whose rugged moun-
tains may be considered as the first stepping-stones to the
more lofty Himalayas, brought back word to his fellow
countrymen of the Grampians, that thus closely bordering
upon the burning plains of India, he had beheld such
well-known plants as pine trees and primroses, straw-
berries and hawthorns, and had listened to the notes of the
Merle, that bird of home associations. What must have been
his thoughts, thousands of miles away from those familiar
scenes, amid which he had last heard that sweet music,
in a strange rugged land, among a people of a different
faith and a different tongue ? What visions of ' auld
lang syne,' must have been conjured up by those magic
notes, unlocking the treasure-house of memory, and un-
sealing the fount of the purest and holiest feeling of
man's heart. Doubtless he was a youthful lover once,
and that familiar strain might have recalled to his recol-
lection such a scene as we may suppose Elgiva looks upon
in the play of ' Edwin the Fair,' when she asks, —

How long since

Is it, that standing on this compassed window,
The Blackbird sung us forth from yonder bough
That hides the arbour, loud and full at first,
Warbling his invitations, then with pause
And fracture, fitfully as evening fell ?

Aye, how long since ? What an echo these words must
have found in the bosom of our traveller, and how involun-
tarily the question must have risen on his lips — how long
will it be ere I again visit the sweet scenes of early life,
and behold the faces, and hear the voices of those who
are dear to me ? Perchance it was eventide, and he was
in some green valley, snugly nestled amid the rugged hills,
when his ear first caught the sound of this toie-bird's song,
poured out from a blossoming hawthorn bush, or from
amid the dark boughs of a pine tree, like that of his native

148 PAYS FOR ITS KEEP.

mountains ; and then what so appropriate for him to call
to mind, and to utter, as the fine devotional lines of
Edmestone ? —

Sweet bard of the woods ! on this still summer even,

How lovely, how soft, and how mellow thy lay !
It is calm as the earth ; it is clear as the heaven ;

It is soothing and sweet, like the requiem of day!
Oh! what art thou singing? It speaks to my soul,

Methinks I could tell thee the words of thy song;
Pure pleasure and gratitude beam through the whole,

And the summer eve's zephyr conveys it along.

Gilbert White has remarked that in the season of nidifica-
tion the wilder birds are comparatively speaking tame, and
the Blackbird is no exception to this rule, for although
naturally shy and retiring, it commonly builds close to a
house, and in situations where it is constantly subjected to
interruptions, as near a garden walk, often in a bush, within
reach of the hand. There, as Bishop Mant describes it —

The o'erarching boughs between

Of some selected evergreen,

Of laurel thick, or branching fir,

Or bed of pleasant lavender,

To lodge secure his pendent home,

A well-wove frame, with moistened loam

Within cemented, and without

Rough, but compactly all about

With moss and fibrous roots entwined,

And withered turf-grass softly lined,

Where may repose in season due

The pregnant balls of chalky blue,

Bespread about the flattened crown

With pallid spots of chestnut brown.

To the cultivator of land the Blackbird is supposed to
be a great enemy ; he is fond of all soft fruits ; peas in the
bud, and grain before it gets too hard for the bill, are laid
under contribution, and he eats with a will too, and often
destroys more than he devours. But what of that ? We
have already seen by Macgillivray's account how large
a proportion of beetles and other insects he consumes, and
could the balance be fairly struck, we believe that, taking
out of the account the large amount of pleasure which it

FRIENDLY RELATIONS. 149

affords by its sweet song and lively motions, he would be
found far more beneficial than hurtful to man. Here now
is a case in point —

A few years ago, tlie Blackbirds in the northern part of the State
of Indiana were considered a grievous nuisance to the farmer.
Whole fields of oats were sometimes destroyed, and the depredations
upon the late corn were greater than can be believed, if told. The
farmer sowed and the birds reaped. He scolded and they twittered.
Occasionally a charge of shot brought down a score, but made no
more impression upon the great sea of birds than the removal of a
single bucket of water from the great salt puddle. A few years
later every green thing on the land seemed destined to destruction
by the army worm. Man was powerless — a worm among worms.
But his best friends, the hated Blackbirds, came to his relief just in
time to save when all seemed lost. No human aid could have
helped him. How thankful should man be that Grod has given him
for his companions and fellow-labourers, in the cultivation of the
earth, these lovely birds ! ' The labourer is worthy of his hire.'
Why should we grudge the little moiety claimed by the busy little
fellows which followed the plough, and snatched away the worm
from the seed that it might produce grain for his and our subsist-
ence? * No honest man would cheat a bird out of its summer's
work.'

It is well known that Blackbirds and Thrushes will fre-
quently build in close proximity to each other, and it
is even said that sometimes there is an union of the two
species ; an instance of this is recorded in a local paper, in
these words : — i There is at present over the drawing-room
window, at Casterton parsonage, near Kirkby Lonsdale,
where Mr. W. W. C. Wilson, jun., is residing, a nest
built by a Blackbird and a Thrush, which have paired
together, containing one bird which resembles both species.
It has been placed in a cage close to the nest, and both of
the parent birds may constantly be seen feeding it through
the wires of the cage.7

The folio wing anecdote may be likewise given as illus-
trative of the friendly relations which often exist between
these two birds ; we take it from a paper named l The
Scotsman :' —

BATTLE EXTRAORDINARY. — Yesterday week a Blackbird and a
Thrush were observed fighting most courageously with a large tom-
cat, which belongs to a family in Newington. Their mode of attack

150 SHY AND TIMID.

was to dart at the foe from different quarters, striking on the back
of the head with their bills. In this manner puss was repeatedly
obliged to seek shelter; but whenever he saw that the coast was
clear he came out and went to a particular spot, where there seemed
to be something attractive. The fight was continued throughout
the night, and on the following morning there was a furious chirping
of the Blackbird. It was soon afterwards discovered that the object
of so much solicitude was a wounded Thrush, which puss no doubt
had intended for his breakfast on the same morning. Near the
bird were found several large worms and other dainties, with which
its friends had in vain tried to tempt its appetite. About twelve
o'clock on Friday morning it died, and after that the watchmen
remained but a little, and then flew away. The two Thrushes had
been mates; and, if so, this is only one of many instances on record
of the strong conjugal affection of birds; but it is rather extraor-
dinary that a Blackbird should sympathise so deeply, and exert
itself so nobly, on behalf of a bird of a different species ; and it is
no less extraordinary that two such birds should have the courage
and the power to contend victoriously with a full-grown cat.

Generally speaking, the Blackbird is much more shy and
timid than the Thrush. It is more easily alarmed, and
when disturbed in its covert, utters a short, chattering kind
of cry, which is long continued, and which it also fre-
quently emits if anything in the shape of an enemy
approaches the nest of its neighbour, the Thrush, as if to
give a friendly warning of danger to that bird. f

In a northern paper we find this very interesting account
of one of these birds, whose excellent musical powers,
beauty, and docility, have rendered them such favourite
domestic pets : —

We had the pleasure last night of seeing a Blackbird in the
house of Mr. Eobert Hunt, carpenter, Kirkpatrick-juxta-village,
which, of itself, is a natural curiosity, and affords perhaps the most
notable example of mildness of disposition and sociability of man-
ners ever heard of in the history of birds. It was brought from a
nest in a neighbouring wood last summer, in company with other
three of the same family, and all of which soon died, leaving our
heroine alone to brook the solitary confinement of the cage. The
little captive, however, gave no indication of possessing any of those
musical qualifications for which it had been imprisoned, and it was
finally resolved to set it at liberty. The cage door was thrown
open to afford her an opportunity to escape, but this did not seem at
all congenial to her feelings, for, although she would occasionally
mix among the feathered choristers of Craigeland woods, yet she

A WILLING CAPTIVE. 151

seemed to prefer the society of her owner and family to that of her
own species. During the whole winter she might be seen hopping
about the house and picking up the crumbs of bread from the floor
with the greatest composure, and she latterly became so fond of her
master as to follow him regularly to the workshop, where she
strutted about in the most majestic manner, displaying the most
threatening gestures when any stranger offered to interfere, but
taking care always to return to the house at night, where, after the
usual familiarities, she retired to her cage to rest. One night in
spring she was missing, but on the following day her ladyship
appeared in the family circle as usual, and no more absented herself
from the usual roosting-place, nor was she ever seen in company with
a mate. After this she preferred sitting during the night upon the
top of the cage, and about six weeks ago began to roost on the top
of the cupboard, or dresser, as it is sometimes styled, where she
commenced to build. She wrought most assiduously, carrying sand
and plaster, and then lined it with straw and any pieces of old cloth
she could find in the house, and would sometimes be engaged
amongst the children endeavouring to tear with her bill such pieces
as she found on the floor. On the very day on which she com-
pleted her nest, which occupied her a fortnight, she laid the first
egg, producing one each day for the four succeeding days. During
the time of hatching, which continued for eighteen days, she became
exceedingly irritable, wheeling round and putting herself on the
defensive at the approach of any one but her owner, whom alone
she considered entitled to any privileges. As soon as they were
hatched, however, she assumed her usual humble and peaceful
habits, her only anxiety being to procure food for the little ones.
Every morning at four o'clock she jumps into her owner's bed,
dinning him with loud and incessant screams till he is obliged to
rise and accompany his importunate protege to the garden, where he
digs up a few worms, which she greedily picks up and carries to her
young. It is now a week since they were produced, and when we
saw them last night they were doing well, the careful mother
sitting with great composure upon the edge of the nest, which posi-
tion she holds during the night, seemingly afraid of injuring her
little brood.

We have said that the Blackbird is a very early and
late singer. Macgillivray records, that on May 6,
1837, one in the garden commenced his song at three in
the morning ; a fortnight after, I heard one as early as
half past two ; and in the middle of summer I have lis-
tened to it before going to bed, when the twilight peeped
in between the shutters upon the untired student, thus
admonished of the propriety of intermitting his labours.

152 MORNING AND EVENING SONG.

The first morning song of the Blackbird is very singular,
and altogether different from that of the evening; con-
sisting of repetitions of the same unusual strains, per-
formed with a harsh, screaming voice. It continues for a
quarter of an hour or more, and is not again heard until
towards sunrise, when it is renewed in a bolder, louder,
and more joyous strain. In cold and cloudy weather this
twilight strain is seldom heard, for then the bird waits
until it is full day before it commences its song. Although
the Blackbird sings at all times of the day, it is more
especially in the mornings and evenings that it pours forth
its delightful melodies, which, simple as they are, I am
unable to describe in a more effective manner than by
characterising them as loud, rich, mellow, and much sur-
passing in effect those of any other native bird, except the
Nightingale. It is not in the wild valley, flanked with
birchen slopes, and stretching far away among the craggy
hills, that the music of the Blackbird floats upon the
evening breeze. There you may listen delighted to the
gentle song of the Mavis ; but here, in this plain, covered
with corn-fields, and skirted with gardens, sit thee down
on the green turf by the gliding brook, and mark the little
black speck, stuck as it were upon the top twig of that tall
poplar. It is a Blackbird ; for now the sweet strain, loud,
but mellowed by distance, comes upon the ear, inspiring
pleasant thoughts, and banishing care and sorrow. The
bird has evidently learned his part by long practice, for
he sits sedately and in full consciousness of superiority.
Ceasing at intervals, he renews the strain, varying so that,
although you can trace an occasional repetition of notes,
the staves are never precisely the same. You may sit an
hour or longer, and yet the song will be continued, and,
in the neighbouring gardens, many rival songsters will
sometimes raise their voices at once, or delight you with
alternate strains. And now what is the purpose of all this
melody ? We can only conjecture that it is the expression
of the perfect happiness which the creature is enjoying,
when, uncarked by care, conscious of security, and aware
of the presence of his mate, he instinctively pours forth his
soul in joy, and gratitude, and love. He does not sing to

BLACKBIRDS NOT ALL BLACK. 153

amuse his mate, as many have supposed, for he often sings
in winter, when he is not yet mated ; nor does he sing to
beguile his solitude, for now he is not solitary; but he
sings because all his wants are satisfied, his whole frame
glowing with health, and because his Maker has gifted
him with the power of uttering sweet sounds.

A celebrated chief of the North American Indians was
named Blackbird, and it is related of him that at one of
the annual distributions of presents by the British Govern-
ment, he began a speech at sunrise which lasted, without
intermission, till sunset : those who believe in transmi-
gration of souls, might well suppose that such a gift of
eloquence would best befit a songster whose strains are
heard from early morn till dewy eve. It was Pliny's
theory that this bird turned red in winter, and here we

• have an agreement of hue also with the copper-skinned
palaverer of the West. The old Roman naturalist, how-
ever, might have been mistaken in this, as he was in many
other of his statements : the female bird, it is true, has
plumage more approaching to a brown than the male
songster, but this can scarcely be called red. In the islands
of the Mediterranean, and in some parts of Italy, par-
ticularly about the Pyrenees, there is found a blue Black-
bird, the song of which is said to be nearly equal to that
of the Nightingale. Instances of wholly and partially white
— let us avoid the misnomer and say — Ouzels, are not
unfrequently met with, and Willoughby accounted for
such a phenomenon by supposing them natives of moun-
tainous districts, where the constant presence of snow had
effected the change of colour ; but this is not correct, as
albinos are sometimes found in nests with others of the
natural hue. A stuffed specimen of a cream-coloured bird
of this species is preserved in the British Museum ; and
in the Zoological Gardens, London, there was one some
years since which had the head only white, and this was
caught in Northamptonshire.

Quite recently one of these birds, nearly as white as
snow, excepting the principal tail and wing feathers, was
captured near Thornhill, and was stuffed, and placed in the
museum of that town.

154 A GOOD MIMIC.

In addition to its own native melody, this bird may be
taught to imitate the strains of other songsters, although it
is not a very apt scholar. It has been known to whistle a
tune very correctly, and also to crow like a cock. Mr.
Barton Bouchier of Wold rectory, Northampton, relates an
instance of this accomplishment possessed by a wild bird.
He had heard the crow, and conjectured that it must have
been uttered by a cock pheasant ; but at length, he says,
i I had the gratification of getting close to the bird seated
on the top bough of an ash tree. The resemblance to the
crow of the domestic cock is so perfect, that more than
one in the distance were answering to it, and the little
fellow seemed to take delight in competing with its rivals
of the dunghill. It occasionally indulged its usual song,
but only for a second or two, and broke off in the middle
into its more natural whistle.'

We have said that old writers called this bird the Merle.
They had also another name for it, the Woofil or Woosel,
probably Ouzel ; both of these names occur in some lines
in Douglas's i Polyolbion : '

The Woofil near at hand, that hath a golden bill,
As Nature him had markt of purpose to let us see
That from all other birds his tune should different be ;
For with their vocal sounds they sing to pleasant May ;
Upon his dulcet pipe the Merle doth only play.'

In Shakspeare we have another variation of this term :

The Woosel Cock so black of hue,
With orange tawny bill.

We might quote page after page of poetry which has
been written in honour of this bird; but our space is
limited, and therefore we must be content with one piece
by an unknown author :

AFTERNOON SONG OF THE BLACKBIRD.

How soft the lovelight of the West reposes

On this green valley's cheery solitude,
On the trim cottage with its screen of roses,

On the grey belfry with its ivy hood,
And murmuring mill-race, and the wheel that flings
Its bubbling freshness — while the Blackbird sings.

IN SUMMER AND WINTER. 155

The very dial on the village church

Seems as 'twere dreaming in a dozy rest ;

The scribbled benches underneath the porch
Bask in the kindly welcome of the West ;

But the broad casements of the old Three Kings

Blaze like a furnace — while the Blackbird sings.

Before her home, in her accustom' d seat,
The tidy grandam spins beneath the shade

Of the old honeysuckle, at her feet

The dreaming pug, and purring tabby laid ;

To her low chair a little maiden clings,

And spells in silence — while the Blackbird sings.

The woods, the lawn, the peaked manor-house,
With its peach-cover' d walls, and rookery loud,

The trim, quaint garden-alleys, screen'd with boughs,
The lion-headed gates, so grim and proud,

The mossy fountain, with its murmurings,

Lie in warm sunshine — while the Blackbird sings.

Far shouts and laughter from the farmstead peal,
Where the great stack is piling in the sun ;

Thro' narrow gates o'erladen wagons reel,
And barking curs into the tumult run ;

While the inconstant wind bears off, and brings

The merry tempest — and the Blackbird sings.

Now the good vicar passes from his gate,

Serene, with long white hair ; and in his eye

Burns the clear spirit that hath conquer'd Fate,
And felt the wings of immortality ;

His heart is throng' d with great imaginings,

And tender mercies — while the Blackbird sings.

Let us add to this Joanna Baillie's picture of

THE BLACKBIRD IN WINTER.

Strutting before, the cock leads forth his train,
And chuckling near the barn-door 'mid the straw
Reminds the farmer of his morning's service.
His grateful master throws a liberal handful ;
They flock about it, while the hungry Sparrows,
Perched on the roof, look down with envious eye,
Then, aiming well, amidst the feeders 'light,
And seize upon the feast with greedy bill,
Till angry partlets peck them off the field.
But at a distance, on the leafless tree
All woe-begone, the lonely Blackbird sits ;

156 THE RING OUZEL.

The cold north wind ruffles his glossy feathers ;
Full oft he looks, but dare not make approach,
Then turns his yellow beak to peck his side,
And claps his wings close to his sharpened breast.
The wandering fowler from behind the hedge
Fastens his eye upon him, points his gun,
And firing wantonly, as at a mark,
Of life bereaves him in the cheerful spot
That oft hath echoed to his summer song.

THE RING OUZEL (Turdus torquatus), sometimes called the
Rock, Tor, or Mountain Ouzel, the Moor, or White-breasted
Blackbird, is a migratory species, somewhat larger than the
common Blackbird. It arrives here in April, and departs
in October, passing the time of its residence amongst us
chiefly in the hilly and mountainous districts. It is a bird
which having been once seen cannot easily be forgotten, on
account of the broad half-moon-shaped patch of white on
the forepart of its breast, where it looks like a collar hung
round the neck, and reaching far down ; the rest of it is
brownish black, some of the feathers being edged with white
or grey. This is somewhat larger than the Blackbird, mea-
suring about ten inches and a-half in length. The Ring
Ouzels are found in most parts of Europe, breeding in the
north. They are migratory in Germany, which they reach
in the foggy season, about November ; they congregate in
small flocks, and resort to those places among the mountains
where juniper berries abound. They are extremely shy
and vigilant, and seldom permit a near approach. The
nest of this bird is composed of coarse grass, plastered in-
ternally with mud, and lined with finer grass. It is usually
placed under the shelter of a juniper or other bush, on the
face of a rough bank, or perhaps among fragments of rock.
The eggs, from four to six in number, are of a pale blueish
green, freckled all over with pale brown. The young are
fledged early in June.

It was, [says Macgillivray,] in the magnificent valley of Cornisk
that I first became practically acquainted with it, having accidentally
met with a whole brood accompanied by their parents in July 1818.
There, on the craggy slopes of the lofty and singularly peaked
masses of the Cullin mountains, among the scattered tufts of heath,

I

THE FIELDFARE. 157

they seemed to be flying about in search of food, of which one
might imagine they could find but little in such a place. But on
the greensward of the Pentlands, where the mole is found nearly
to the summits, the Ring Ouzel, besides insects, can readily procure
a plentiful supply of earth-worms, for which I have seen it looking
out in the manner described under the habits of the preceding
species ; like which, it hops about with great celerity, stands with
drooping wings and slightly elevated tail, and digs up its prey with
great vigour. It feeds also on insects, testaceous mollusca, and
berries of different kinds. The stomach of one which I examined
on the 2nd October 1837, was filled with berries of the Eowan,
Pyrus aucuparia. In the statistical account of the parish of
Galashiels in Selkirkshire, the Eev. Nathaniel Paterson states that
' the Moor Blackbird, too, has of late years become a most trouble-
some spoiler of the garden. It is nearly of the same size as the
singing Blackbird (somewhat larger), but dingy and tuneless — a
daring thief that comes before the window and carries off a plum
nearly as large as itself, showing by its chatter more of anger than
of fear when it is disturbed in the work of depredation. Currants,
gooseberries, cherries, plums, and the finest wall-fruit are its prey.
Its flight is strong and direct, or with very little undulations.
When pursued, it generally flies off at once to a considerable
distance, and it is only when you come near its nest or young that
it ventures within shooting distance. Like the Song Thrush, it
conceals itself among the bushes, but is much more easily put to
flight. When alarmed, it utters a repetition of strong clear notes,
like those of the Blackbird, but louder ; its song consists of a few
loud and mellow notes.'

THE FIELDFARE (Turdus pilaris). — This is the Chestnut-
backed Thrush, sometimes called the Feldyfar or Feltyflier ;
in Gaelic it is Liatli-Troisg. The length of this bird is
generally about ten inches and a half, therefore it is
considerably larger than the Song Thrush. In Britain
it is a winter visitor only, generally arriving from the
North of Europe about the end of October, and depart-
ing towards the end of April. The prevailing colours of
its plumage are chestnut-brown, intermixed with grey in
the upper parts, the under parts being of a reddish yellow.
Very few instances have occurred of Fieldfares breeding in
this country. Mr. Hewitson, who visited their nesting-
places in Norway, says : — l Their nests were at various
heights from the ground, from four feet to thirty or forty
feet or upwards, mixed with old ones of the preceding

158 HAUNTS AND HABITS.

year. They were for the most part placed against the trunk
of a spruce fir ; some were, however, at a considerable dis-
tance from it, upon the upper surface, and towards the
smaller end of the thicker branches. They resembled those
of the Eing Ouzel. The outside is composed of stalks and
coarse grass, and weeds gathered wet, mixed together with
a small quantity of clay, and lined with a thick bed. None
of them yet contained more than three eggs, although we
afterwards found that five was more commonly the number
than four, and that even six was very frequent. They are
very similar to those of the Ring Ouzel.' Elsewhere we
find them described as light blue, mottled over with spots
of dark red brown, in length one inch and three lines.

Macgillivray gives us the following account of the habits
of this bird : —

You see them at early dawn flying off to the fields in a loose
body, or meet them there even in the dim twilight ; but it seems
improbable that they remain at night in the open fields, as they are
never observed to crouch in the manner of the Larks, Pipets, and
other birds that repose on the ground. Their flight, which is easy
and rather slow, is performed with little undulations, by quickly
repeated flaps of the wings, the bird spreading out those organs,
making about twelve short flaps, and as it were intermitting one or
more. In this manner they proceed, uttering a kind of chuckling
chirp, until they arrive over a field on which they have a mind to
settle, when they perform several circling evolutions, and at length
alight. After settling, each is seen to stand still, with its wings
close, but a little drooping, its tail slightly declined, and its head
elevated. It then hops rapidly a few steps forward, stops, picks up
a seed, an insect, or other article of food, and again proceeds.
They generally move in the same direction, always facing the wind
if it be high, and those in the rear, especially if left far behind, fly
up to the front. "When alarmed, they all stand still for a short
time, some utter a low scream, and presently all fly off to a distance,
or alight on the tall trees in the neighbourhood. There they sit
gracefully on the twigs, with their tails declined, and generally with
their heads all directed one way, unless they have settled for the
purpose of resting or amusing themselves after procuring a suffi-
ciency of food. In fine weather they often enact a concert of long
duration, which, although their song is neither loud nor very melo-
dious, is very pleasant. When they are up on trees their attitudes
resemble those of the Blackbird ; but they do not frequent bushy
places, woods, or gardens, for the purpose of picking up snails,
worms, or larvae, but repair to the open fields and meadows, where

THE BISHOP AND THE BIRDS. 159

it is amusing to see them in calm weather hopping about in all
directions, stopping now and then to pick up their food, or to look
around them. In this respect they resemble the Song Thrush, as
well as the Kedwing and Missel Thrush, with the two latter of
which they often temporarily associate. They are very shy, seldom
allowing a person to approach within a hundred yards in an open
field, although when on trees they are somewhat less suspicious. In
the former situation they keep at a distance from the hedges or walls,
and fly off in a body ; but in the latter several individuals frequently
remain behind the main body, and may sometimes be shot.

Thus they are described in Gisborne's ' Walks in a
Forest':—

Lo! on yon branch, whose naked spray o'ertops
The oak's still clustering shade, the Fieldfares sit,
Torpid and motionless, yet peering round
Suspicious of deceit. At our approach,
They mount, and, loudly chattering from on high,
Bid the wild woods of human guile beware.

The following story, by a German author, will be read
with interest by those who have followed us thus far through
our account of the feathered inhabitants of these islands: —

THE BISHOP AND THE BIRDS. — A bishop, who had for his arms
two Fieldfares, with the motto, * Are not two Sparrows sold for a
farthing?' thus explains the matter to an intimate friend : — Fifty
or sixty years ago, a little boy resided at a little village near
Dillengen, on the banks of the Danube. His parents were very
poor, and almost as soon as the boy could walk he was sent into the
woods to pick up sticks for fuel. When he grew older, his father
taught him to pick the juniper-berries, and carry them to a neigh-
bouring distiller, who wanted them for making hollands. Day by
day the poor boy went to his task, and on his road he passed by the
open windows of the village school, where he saw the schoolmaster
teaching a number of boys of about the same age as himself. He
looked at these boys with feelings almost of envy, so earnestly did
he long to be among them. He was quite aware it was in vain to
ask his father to send him to school, for he knew that his parents
had no money to pay the schoolmaster; and he often passed the
whole day thinking, while he was gathering his juniper-berries,
what he could possibly do to please the schoolmaster, in the hope of
getting some lessons. One day, when he was walking sadly along,
he saw two of the boys belonging to the school trying to set a bird-
trap, and he asked one what it was for. The boy told him that the
schoolmaster was very fond of Fieldfares, and that they were setting
the trap to catch some. This delighted the poor boy, for he recol-
lected he had often seen a great number of these birds in the

160 THE REDWING.

juniper-wood, where they came to eat the terries, and he had no
doubt but he could catch some. The next day the little boy
borrowed a basket of his mother, and when he went to the wood he
had the great delight to catch two Fieldfares. He put them in the
basket, and, tying an old handkerchief over it, he took them to the
schoolmaster's house. Just as he arrived at the door, he saw the
two little boys who had been setting the trap, and with some alarm
he asked them if they had caught, any birds. They answered in the
negative; and the boy, his heart beating with joy, gained admittance
into the schoolmaster's presence. In a few words, he told how he
had seen the boys setting the trap, and how he had caught the
birds to bring them as a present to the master. * A present, my
good boy,' cried the schoolmaster, ' you do not look as if you could
afford to make presents. Tell me your price, and I will pay it to
you, and thank you besides.' ' I would rather give them to you,
sir, if you please,' said the boy. The schoolmaster looked at the
boy as he stood before him, with bare head and feet, and ragged
trousers that only reached half-way down his naked legs. ' You
are a very singular boy,' said he, * but if you will not take money,
you must tell me what I can do for you, as I cannot accept your
present without doing something for it in return. Is there any-
thing I can do for you? ' ' Oh, yes,' said the boy, trembling with
delight, ' you can do for me what I should like better than anything
else.' ' What is that ? ' asked the schoolmaster, smiling. ' Teach
me to read,' cried the boy, falling on his knees ; ' oh, dear, kind
sir, teach me to read!' The schoolmaster complied. The boy
came to him at all his leisure hours, and learned so rapidly, that the
schoolmaster recommended him to a nobleman who resided in the
neighbourhood. This gentleman, who was as noble in mind as in
birth, patronised the poor boy, and sent him to school at Ratisbon.
The boy profited by his opportunities ; and when he rose, as he soon
did, to wealth and honours, he adopted two Fieldfares as his arms.
' What do you mean ? ' cried the bishop's friend. ' I mean,'
returned the bishop, with a smile, ' that the poor boy was myself.'

THE EEDWING (Turdus iliacus) — sometimes called the
Red-sided, or Wind-thrush, or Swine-pipe. This is another
of our winter visitants, arriving in October, and departing
in April or May, somewhat earlier than the Fieldfare, with
which it often associates. It is smaller than that bird, being
about eight inches and three-quarters in length, and in the
colour of its plumage more nearly resembles the Song
Thrush. It is distinguished, however, by a blackish-brown
spot over the eye, with a large whitish band over it, and a
whiter neck and breast. There is also a large red patch

THE NIGHTINGALE OF NORWAY. 161

on each side, and more elongated and paler spots on the
lower parts of the body. Parks and pleasure-grounds that
are ornamented with clumps of trees are the favourite
resorts of this Thrush while it remains in Britain ; it resorts
to the pasture-lands and moist meadows for food, which
consists chiefly of worms, snails, and other soft-bodied
animals. It is less inclined to feed on berries than most
of its congeners; and therefore in severe weather, when
animal food is difficult to obtain, suffers more than they
do. Only on two or three occasions has the nest of the
Kedwing been found in this country. Morris says that it
is placed in the centre of a thorn or other bush, alder, birch
or other tree, and is made of moss, roots and dry grass out-
wardly, cemented together with clay and weeds ; inwardly
with finer grass. The eggs, six in number, are of a pale
blueish green, spotted with reddish brown.

Mr. Willson states that in Sweden this bird builds in
moist woods in June, and that the eggs are six in number,
blue spotted with black. Mr. Hewitson tells us that in
Norway, * The Redwing is but seldom seen, and then
perched upon the summit of one of the highest trees, pour-
ing forth its delightfully wild note. It was always very
shy, and upon seeing our approach would drop suddenly from
the height, and disappear amongst the underwood. Its nest,
which we have found with young ones (although our un-
ceasing endeavours to obtain its eggs were fruitless) was
similar to that of the Fieldfare, but nearer the ground.' He
adds that the bird is called the Nightingale of Norway, and
well deserves the name.

Linngeus, in his ' Tour in Lapland,' several times alludes
to the Redwing, * whose amorous warblings from the top of
the spruce fir were delightful. Its high and varied notes
rival those of the Nightingale himself.' Macgillivray de-
scribes the common note of the bird as a harsh scream ;
but then he says, ' I believe they never sing with us so as
to exert their whole vocal powers.' Of course not ; they
would do this only during the breeding season, which is
passed in more northerly countries. Like that of all Thrushes,
the flesh of this bird is excellent eating, and its flocks

162 THE GOLDEN ORIOLE.

during the winter are much thinned by the gunner, who
however has great difficulty in approaching them.

The facile pen of Bishop Mant will again supply us with
a poetical picture : —

About the whitethorn's berried bush
The Fieldfare and the Redwing Thrush
Flit in unnumbered throngs, or speed
To rushy fen or plashy mead,
Impatient for their insect fare,
And darken with their flight the air.
What ! do your northern banquets fail ?
And, bound upon the autumnal gale,
Seek ye beneath our milder sky
And warmer sun a fresh supply ?
Feed on, while yet the hedge-girt field
Rich store of scarlet haws shall yield I
Feed on, while yet by frost unbound,
Unclothed by snow, the marshy ground
Rich store of insect food shall spare.
Then southward haste ! but ah ! beware,
Lest, joying in your festive cheer,
Too long ye tempt the wintry year ;
Your flight lest sudden changes bar,
Your strength contracting famine mar,
And throw you on the stranger's shore,
To seek your vernal haunts no more ;
No more to cross the tranquil seas,
And view your native maple trees,
And pines that wave above the rills
That fall on huge Norwegian hills,
Or roam by lonely Swedish mere,
Your groves of branching juniper !

THE GOLDEN ORIOLE. — Allied to the Rollers, which
they resemble in some respects, but more nearly related
to the Thrushes, are the Oriolince, or Orioles, which
belong chiefly to Africa, the warmer parts of Asia, and
New Holland. The only species which appears in Britain
is the GOLDEN ORIOLE (Oriolus Galbula), which has oc-
curred in several of the English counties, and in Ireland.
The bird, which is remarkable for the beauty of its plumage,
of a rich yellow or orange colour, relieved with black and
grey, is about the size of the Blackbird, stoutly made,
with a large head and bill. It makes a flat saucer-shaped

SOUTH AMERICAN ORIOLES. 163

tiest, of wool and the long stems of grass curiously inter-
woven, and attached to the horizontal fork of the bough of
a tree. The eggs are four or five in number, of a white
colour, slightly tinged with purple, with a few distinct spots
of ash grey and claret colour.

GOLDEN OKIOLE.

La Yaillant, who first described this richly- coloured Oriole
as a native of Southern Africa, remarks that it is there only
known as a bird of passage, arriving at the fruit season, and
disappearing soon after. It is probably, therefore, one of
those migratory species which, like the Grakles, usually
reside in equinoctial Africa, and migrate southerly during
autumn. These birds inhabit only the deeper forests, and
from constantly perching on the highest trees are difficult
to shoot or capture.

The Orioles of South America are of a different genus to
the above, and are called by the natives Yapous, a name
expressive of their natural cry. They are peculiarly dis-
tinguished for the curious construction of their nests, which
are composed of bark and small rushes, interlaced with
many black filaments resembling horse-hair. The form is

164 A RHYME FOR THE YAPOUS.

that of a purse, or long pouch, about thirty-six inches in
length, and ten in width at the lower part, where it assumes
the shape of a hemisphere. These nests are suspended
from the branches of lofty trees, generally close to the ex-
tremity; the entrance is situated in the side, near the top.
The Yapous remain in flocks, and often appear, by the
variety of natural and imitative sounds which they emit.
to be mocking the passer-by, to whom their large, singu-
larly-shaped nests, swinging to and fro, must look very like
Brobdignagian hams hung up to dry.

1 Yapou-yapou ! ha-ha ! yapou ! '

The traveller turns him at the sound ;
He looks the forest vista through,

Then casts a wary glance around ;
No chattering Monkey can he see,

No Jay or Pie with screeching voice.
Whence cometh it — what can it be —

That strange mysterious noise ?

Again he hears the mocking cry —

'Yapou-yapou! ha-ha! he-he!'
And now he upward turns his eye,

And lo ! upon a stately tree,
Amid the branches spreading wide,

A host of birds flit to and fro,
Whose pendent nests from side to side

Swing, as the breezes go.

A happy family they seem,

All bent for pastime and delight,
Amid the broken sunlight gleam

Their checkered plumes, so golden bright ;
The young are peeping from each nest,

And mimicking their parents' cries,
As though life were a merry jest —

No pains — no miseries.

And ere the traveller onward went,

He stored this lesson in his heart :
All creatures here are well content

With acting their appointed part,
Save man ; he murmurs and repines,

And strives against his Maker's will,
And if it rains, or if it shines,

He 's discontented still.

165

THE SKYLARK.

CHAPTER XII.

LARKS AND PIPETS.

THE family of Alaudine birds — Alaudince — is divided
by Macgillivray and others into six genera, only two
of which, however, have representatives in this country :
these are the Alauda, or Lark genus, and the Anthus or
Pipet genus, in each of which there are four British spe-
cies. The best known of them all is the SKY, or FIELD
LARK, or LAVEROCK (Alauda arvensis), the ethereal min-
strel that the poets have so loved to honour ; that little
plain brown bird, whose exulting song charms and
delights alike old and young, gentle and simple ; that
makes its nest in lowly places, and rises from thence, like
an impersonification of praise, to sing at heaven's gate ;
that speck in the sunshine, which Shelley thus addresses :

Hail to thee, blithe spirit !

Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven, or near it,

Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

Yes, well might Christopher North exclaim —

16G WHAT THE LARK TEACHES.

Higher, and higher than ever rose the tower of Belus, soars and
sings the Lark, the lyrical poet of the sky. Listen, listen ! and
the more remote the bird, the louder is his hymn in heaven. He
seems, in his loftiness, to have left the earth for ever, and to have
forgotten his lowly nest. The primroses and the daisies, and all
the sweet hill-flowers, must be remembered in the lofty region of
light. But just as the Lark is lost — he and his song together —
both are again seen and heard wavering down the sky, and in a
little while he is walking, contented, along the furrows of the
braided corn, or on the clover lea, that has not felt the plough-
share for half a century.

Thou, simple bird !

Of all the vocal quire, dwell' st in a home
The humblest ; yet thy morning song ascends
Nearest to heaven.

So should it be with us, borne up on the wings of faith
and love, with our hearts full of praise, to the footstool of
the Author of all good ; yet not forgetful that our present
home is on earth, and that however lofty may be our aspi-
rations, however earnest our desires and longings after the
glories and the blessings of a future state, yet our path of
duty lies here, and that we should be

Content to fill a little space,
So God be glorified.

Fain would we place before our readers some of the many
beautiful things that have been said of the Lark by English
poets especially, from Shakspeare downward, and by those
writers of divinity who have drawn most largely from
the objects and analogies of nature to illustrate spiritual
teachings, such as Jeremy Taylor and Bishop Hall. But
to occupy too much space with such matter would scarcely
accord with the aim and object of this book. The poetry
which we do use must be chiefly descriptive ; and of this
we shall find much more than enough for our purpose, in
reference to this favourite bird, whose song, so exultant
and inspiriting, has cheered many a grief- stricken and
sinking heart. What says Washington Irving about
this?—

Of all birds I should like to be a Lark. He revels in the brightest
time of the day, in the happiest season of the year, among fresh

DISTINGUISHING PECULIARITIES. 167

meadows and opening flowers ; and when he has sated himself with
the sweetness of earth, he wings his flight up to heaven, as if he
would drink in the melody of the morning stars. Hark to that
note ! How it comes thrilling down upon the ear ! What a stream
of music, note falling over note in delicious cadence ! Who would
trouble his head about operas and concerts, when he could walk in
the fields, and hear such music for nothing ? There are homilies in
Nature's works, worth all the wisdom of the schools, if we could but
read them rightly ; and one of the most pleasant lessons I ever re-
ceived in a time of trouble, was from hearing the note of a Lark.

From Mudie's l Feathered Tribes of the British Islands '
we quote the following animated description of the distin-
guishing peculiarities of this species : —

The Skylark, or, as is more accurately expressed by the specific
name, the ' Field Lark ' (only that name has been misapplied to the
Field Pipet), is the most universal of the British songsters. It
inhabits near the dwellings of man, rather than in the bleak wastes,
because neither the seeds nor the insects which are produced in these
are suited for it ; but it inhabits the peopled districts abundantly, in
all their varieties of latitude, soil, and climate, and, though it might
have been previously unknown there, when man has turned the
furrow on the waste, and replaced the heath, the moss, and the rush
by a more kindly vegetation, the Lark is sure to come with its song
of gratitude, to reveiller him to the field betimes, and cheer his
labours the live-long day.

Larks, from their vast numbers, flock much and fly far in the
winter, and flock more to the uplands in the middle of England,
where much rain usually falls in the summer, than to the drier and
warmer places near the shores ; but so true are they to their time,
that, be it in the south, the centre, or the north, the Lark is always
ready, on the first gleamy day of the year, to mount to its watch-
tower in the upper sky, and proclaim the coming of the vernal
season. It is, in fact, more joy ant in the sun, more inspirable by
the life which the solar influence diffuses through the atmosphere,
than almost any other creature. Not a spring air can sport, not a
breeze of morn can play, not an exhalation of freshness from opening
bud or softening clod can ascend, without note of it being taken and
proclaimed by this all-sentient index to the progress of nature.

And the form and manner of the indication are as delightful as
the principle is true. The Lark rises, not like most birds, which
climb the air upon one slope, by a succession of leaps, as if a heavy
body were raised by a succession of efforts or steps, with pauses
between : it twines upward like a vapour, borne lightly on the atmos-
phere, and yielding to the motions of that as other vapours do. Its
course is a spiral, gradually enlarging, and, seen on the side, it is as
if it were keeping the boundary of a pillar of ascending smoke,

168 SPIRAL FLIGHT OF THE LARK.

always on the surface of that logarithmic column (or funnel, rather),
which is the only figure that, on a narrow base, and spreading as it
ascends, satisfies the eye with its stability and self-balancing in the
thin and invisible fluid. Nor can it seem otherwise, for it is true
to nature. In the case of smoke or vapour, it diffuses itself in the
exact proportion as the density or power of support in the air
diminishes, and the Lark widens the evolutions of its spiral in the
very same proportions. Of course it does so only when perfectly
free from disturbance or alarm, because either of these is a new
element in the cause, and as such it must modify the effect. When
equally undisturbed, the descent is by a reversal of the same spiral,
and when that is the case, the song is continued during the whole
time that the bird is in the air.

The accordance of the song with the mode of the ascent and
descent is also worthy of notice. When the volutions of the spiral
are narrow, and the bird changing its altitude rapidly, in proportion
to the whole quantity of flight, the song is partially suppressed, and
it swells as the spiral widens, and sinks as it contracts, so that,
though the notes may be the same, it is only when the Lark sings
poised at the same height, that it sings in an uniform key. It gives
a swelling song as it ascends, and a sinking one as it comes down,
and even if it take but one wheel in the air, as that wheel always
includes either an ascent or a descent, it varies the pitch of the song.

This author further observes that —

The song of the Lark, being a most acceptable and delightful
subject for common observation, is a very curious one for the physi-
ologist. Everyone in the least conversant with the structure of
birds, must be aware that, with them, the organs of intonation and
modulation are inward, deriving little assistance from the tongue,
and none or next to none from the mandibles of the bill. The
windpipe is the musical organ, and it is often very curiously formed.
Birds require that organ less for breathing than other animals
having a windpipe and lungs, because of the air cells and breathing
tubes with which all parts of their bodies, even the bones, are fur-
nished. But these different breathing organs must act with most
freedom when the bird is making the greatest efforts in motion, that
is, when ascending or descending, and in proportion as these cease
to act, the trachea is the more required for the purposes of breathing.
The Skylark thus converts the atmosphere into a musical instru-
ment of many stops, and so produces an exceedingly wild and
varied song — a song which is, perhaps, not equal in power or com-
pass in the single stave to that of many of the Warblers, but one
which is more varied in the whole succession. All birds that sing
ascending or descending have similar power, but the Skylark has
it in a degree superior to any other.

AN EARLY SONGSTER. 169

But while the sweet bird is yet singing and soaring, ' as
if it had learned music and motion from an angel,' as
Jeremy Taylor says, perchance the heavens become over-
cast, and the bleak wind whistles through the yet naked
branches, heralding a sleety shower. Then may be realised
the picture drawn by Warton, in his poem on the first of
April : —

Fraught with a transient frozen shower,
If a cloud should haply lower,
Sailing o'er the landscape dark,
Mute on a sudden is the Lark.
And when gleams the sun again
On the pearl-bespangled plain,
And from behind his watery veil
Looks through the thin descending hail ;
She mounts, and lessening to the sight,
Salutes the blithe return of light,
And high her tuneful track pursues,
'Mid the dim rainbow's scattered hues.

Ever is the Lark an early songster, alike the first to salute
the opening year and the dawning day ; therefore has
Shakspeare said —

Hark, hark ! the Lark at heaven's gate sings,
When Pho3bus 'gins to rise.

And many other poets have hailed it as the herald of the
dawn ; among them is Barry Cornwall, whose sonnet we
are tempted to quote : —

0 earliest singer ! 0 care-charming bird,
Married to Morning by a sweeter hymn
Than priest e'er chanted from his cloister dim

At midnight; or veil'd virgin's holier word,

At sunrise, or the paler evening, heard ;

To which, of all Heaven's young and lovely hours,
Who wreathe soft light in hyacinthine bowers,

Beautiful spirit, is thy suit preferred ?

Unlike the creatures of this dull low earth,
Still dost thou woo, although thy suit be won,
And thus thy mistress bright is pleased ever :

Oh, lose not thou this mark of purer birth ;
So may'st thou yet live on from sun to sun,
Thy joy unchecked, thy sweet song silent never.

170 A LOWLY BUILDER.

Bechstein describes the song of the Skylark as consisting
of several strains, which are all composed of trilling and
warbling notes, variously modulated, and occasionally in-
terrupted by a powerful whistling. He says that it is a
bird, also, of singular capacity ; and not only do the young
learn the notes of other birds which hang near them,
but the adult birds also ; although we think, as among men,
their memories vary in power, as do their vocal abilities,
In confinement some begin to sing as early as December,
and continue until moulting time. Others, less able, only
begin in March, and finish singing as early as August.
When wild they usually become silent about St. James's
day, although exceptions occur, and Larks are sometimes
heard at Michaelmas.

At the beginning of March in this country, or earlier if
the season be fine, and until the flocks of Larks break up,
will the birds pair ; and now commences that thrilling and
exhilarating strain in which we all delight. Now, as Car-
rington describes it : —

Light from the sod, the Lark exulting springs,
Joy tunes his voice and animates his wings ;
Bird of the blushing dawn, to him are given,
Earth's choicest verdure and the midway heaven.
Hark ! the glad strains that charm our wondering ears,
As upward still the minstrel fearless steers,
Till, wide careering through the solar stream,
A speck he wanders in the morning beam.

The nest of the Skylark is always placed on the ground,
in a hollow scraped out for the purpose. It will generally
be found among corn, or grass left for hay, or in an open
pasture, where the herbage is rank. It is loosely formed
of withered grass, and lined with finer vegetable fibres.
The eggs, four or five in number, vary considerably, both
in size and colour ; but they are most usually greenish
grey, freckled with greyish brown, and about ten twelfths
of an inch in length. Two broods, and sometimes three,
are reared in a season. Grahame's description of the nest
of this bird has often been quoted, but it will bear repe-
tition : —

A FAITHFUL MOTHER. 171

On tree, or bush, no Lark is ever seen :
The daisied lea he loves, where tufts of grass
Luxuriant crown the ridge; there, with his mate,
He founds their lowly house of withered bents,
And coarsest speargrass ; next, the inner work
With finer and still finer fibres lays,
Rounding it curious with his speckled breast.
How strange this untaught art! it is the gift,
The gift innate of Him, without whose will
Not e'en a Sparrow falleth to the ground.

Thus exposed as the eggs and young of this bird are to
many dangers, the wonder is that their numbers do not
diminish. We find Skylarks soaring and singing still in
all parts of the country, as they have ever soared and sung.
Very anxiously does the mother bird watch over her nest-
lings, and very carefully does she guard them, as far as her
power goes, from the perils with which they are ever
surrounded. Several instances are related of her sitting
close until the scythe of the mower had actually cut her
in two. When driven from her nest, she still keeps near to
her precious charge, and utters plaintive cries, which express
her fears for their safety. Says Bishop Mant : —

Boused from her humble pallet mark,
Up starts alarmed the brooding Lark,
And round and round her dwelling flies,
With fluttering wings and plaintive cries.

When alarmed, the bird is even said to remove its eggs
to another situation. Jesse testifies to this, observing : —

The Lark makes its nest generally in grass fields, where it is
liable to be injured either by cattle grazing over it, or by the mower.
In case of alarm from these or other causes, the parent birds remove
their eggs, by means of their long claws, to a place of greater secu-
rity ; and this transportation I have observed to be effected in a
very short space of time. By placing a Lark's egg, which is rather
large in proportion to the size of the bird, in the foot, and then
drawing the claws over it, you will perceive that they are of suffi-
cient length to secure the egg firmly, and by this means the bird is
enabled to convey its eggs to another place, where she can sit upon
and hatch them.

When one of my mowers first told me that he had observed the
fact, I was somewhat disinclined to credit it ; but I have since ascer-
tained it beyond a doubt, and now mention it as another strong

172 A DEVOTED NURSE.

proof of that order in the economy of nature, by means of which,
this affectionate bird is enabled to secure its forthcoming offspring.
I call it affection, because few birds show a stronger attachment to
their young.

I have often strained my eyes in watching these birds while
they sang their beautiful notes on the wing, till I could see them
no longer.

Up springs the Lark,

Shrill- voiced and loud, the messenger of morn ;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he, mounted, sings,
Amid the dawning clouds.

If, in his descent, he hears the voice of his mate, you may observe
him fall to the earth apparently, like a stone.

This however does not take place during the period of incubation,
or before the young birds have left their nest. At those times I
have observed that the Lark, in his descent, flies along the surface of
the field, and alights at some distance from the nest.

It is evident that this foresight is given to it by its benevolent
Creator for the better preservation of its young ; as if it alighted at
its nest, the spot might easily be watched, and its young fall a prey
to some marauding ploughboy.

Buffon relates a singular instance of maternal care mani-
fested by a young hen bird of this species. It was brought
to him in the month of May, and was then not able to
feed without assistance. She was hardly fledged, when
the naturalist received a nest of three or four unfledged
Larks, to which she took a strong liking, tending them day
and night, cherished them under her wings, and fed them
with her bill, although they were scarcely younger than
herself. Her tender care of them was unceasing. If they
were taken from her, she flew to them as soon as permitted
to do so, and would not attempt to effect her escape when
opportunities were offered. Her affection grew upon her,
so that she neglected food and drink, and at length expired,
consumed as it seemed by maternal anxiety. So essential
were her cares, that none of the young birds long survived
her. Wood observes, that perhaps as great a proportion
of the nests of the Skylark fall a sacrifice to various acci-
dents as of any other bird; and the circumstance of its
being situated on the ground renders it still more liable to
accident from weasels, rats, and other vermin which prowl
about in the night season. Probably also these animals
plunder the nest in the daytime. Nothing is more common

AN ASPIRING FLIER. 173

than to see the feathers of the Skylark, mostly nestling
feathers, in stubble fields and pastures, and sometimes they
are carried off to a neighbouring wood to be devoured at
leisure. Poor Larks ! pity it is that human epicures should
have tastes so similar to those of the vermin aforesaid,
and that the sweet songster should be shot and snared by
thousands.

Knox, in his c Ornithological Eambles in Sussex,' de-
scribes the methods employed in netting and killing Larks
near Brighton, when they pass from east to west in their
autumnal migrations. They are either shot down while
attracted by pieces of looking glass fixed in a revolving
frame of wood which glitters in the sun, or taken in nets
drawn over their sleeping places in the night. Broderip
observes, that no bird is so easily netted as the Lark. He
generally starts from the ground just before the lower edge
of the net touches him, and invariably mounts perpen-
dicularly. Their characteristic propensity to ascend at
once may be observed by any person who l treads up ' a
Lark in a field, and satisfactorily illustrated by releasing
at the same moment a newly captured Lark and a Sparrow
from a cage or hat within the precincts of a room. While
the Sparrow will fly off horizontally, dash himself against
the window, and be almost stunned from the shock, the
Lark will generally mount upwards to the ceiling, and
flutter there for a time, in vain efforts to reach the sky,
before he attempts any other mode of exit ; but this habit
is fatal to him in the netting season. He might frequently
escape, as indeed the Bunting, the Sparrow, and the Linnet
constantly do, by flying straightforward ; but ascending
as he does directly from the ground, the moment his wings
have touched the upper part of the net, it is suffered to
drop suddenly, and his capture is thus inevitable. Bech-
stein, the great German authority on cage birds, recom-
mends that the top of the Lark's cage should be of linen,
since from its tendency to rise for flight, it would run the
risk of wounding its head against a lining of wood or iron
wire, especially before it is well tamed. Poor Lark !
again we say, pity that it should ever be confined. Let
Wordsworth plead for him in his captivity : —

174 AN UNWILLING CAPTIVE.

Who can divine what impulses from God
Reach the caged Lark, within a town abode,
From his poor inch or two of daisied sod ?
0 yield him back his privilege ! No sea
Swells like the bosom of a man set free ;
A wilderness is rich with liberty.

' Of all the unhallowed instances of bird incarceration,' says
Broderip, ' the condemnation of the Skylark to perpetual confinement
is surely the most repugnant to every good feeling. The bird, whilst
its happy brethren are carolling far up in the sky, as if they would
storm heaven itself with their rush of song just at the joyous season,
" when wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear," is doomed to
pine in some dingy street. There, in a den with a solid wooden
roof — painted green outside, and white, glaring white, within— which
in bitter mockery is called a Skylark's cage, he keeps winnowing
his wretched wings and beating his breast against the wires, panting
for one, only one, upward flight into the free air. To delude him
into the recollection that there are such places as fields, which he
is beginning to forget, they cut what they call a turf — a turf dug up
in the vicinity of this smoke-canopied Babel of bricks, redolent of
all its sooty abominations, and bearing all the marks of the thou-
sands of tons of fuel which are suffered to escape up our chimneys,
and fall down again upon our noses and into our lungs.

' Well, this abominable lump of dirt is presented to the Skylark
as a refreshment for his parched feet, longing for the fresh morning
dews. Miserable as the winged creature is, he feels there is something
resembling grass under him, and then the fond wretch looks up and
warbles, expecting his mate. Is it possible to see and hear this
desecration of instinct unmoved ? '

Need we describe the Lark ? A handsome sprightly-
looking bird, about nine inches long, with a light reddish
brown plumage, spotted and streaked with black on the
upper parts, and dull brown upon the lower ; there is an
obscure brownish white band over the eye, and a short crest
on the head ; the bill is stoutish, and conical in shape ;
the tail somewhat long, and so are the slender legs and
toes, the hinder claw being much the longest. Whether
these claws are ever employed in carrying the eggs, as <
Jesse states, has been questioned ; his authority is gene-
rally to be depended on, and as he positively asserts that
they are, to his certain knowledge, we must believe him.

The food of this Lark during the summer consists of in-
sects, caterpillars, and worms, especially the latter; it is
said to stamp with its feet on the ground near worm-casts,

INCREDIBLE NUMBERS OF LARKS. 175

and when the slimy wriggler, alarmed by the concussion,
peeps up its head, the bird darts upon it with inconceivable
rapidity, and drags the reluctant creature out entire, or
breaks it in two, leaving half in the earth for some coming
Lark.

It is only in hard winter, when animal food cannot be
procured, that this bird becomes a stackyard plunderer;
but the corn he consumes is but a small payment for the
assistance which he has rendered to the farmer during the
rest of the year ; therefore, and for the sake of his sweet
song and bright associations, let him go free and un-
harmed.

Larks in incredible numbers are sometimes seen passing
from one part of the country to another, where probably
food may be more plentiful. Thus in 1856 we read in
i The Doncaster Gazette ' ' that an extraordinary sight was
witnessed in the fields attached to the Newton farms, near
Doncaster. The largest flock of Larks that can be ever
remembered visited there. They covered six acres of
ground, and amounted to thousands. They were rather
shy ; and when disturbed their flight darkened the air/
And again, in 1858, a correspondent of a morning contem-
porary thus writes : —

I have just returned from a stroll in the Regent's Park (one o'clock
P.M., Saturday), when I witnessed a very unusual spectacle. About
100 yards from the railing of the late Mr. Holford's ground, I was
brought to a stand by observing an immense flight of Larks coming
over the Zoological Gardens, and making for the late Marquis of
Hertford's. Their numbers were countless, and they literally dark-
ened the air ; they were flying very low, and were obliged to divide
in order to pass me on either side. This flight took two or three
minutes to go over, and, after a brief interval, was succeeded by
another almost as numerous. Being curious to observe whether it
would be continued, I remained walking up and down, and was pre-
sently gratified by observing another approach from the same quarter,
and passing over precisely the same line of ground. I stayed on the
spot for upwards of an hour, during which time flight after flight
passed over me, sometimes in detachments of a few hundreds, and at
others in myriads. In one instance, one of these flights settled almost
within pistol shot of me, and covered the ground, within a few inches
of each other, for about the space of half an acre. The unusual
sight attracted the notice of one of the park-keepers, and of several

176 A FEATHERED PREACHER.

persons who were passing, and who all declared they had never wit-
nessed anything like it before; indeed it might well be an object of
astonishment unto the wide, upturned, wondering eyes of cockneys,
for although I have for the last 20 years been accustomed to be abroad
in the severest seasons, and not an unmindful observer, I never saw
such large and such continuous flights of birds. How long they
may have been passing over before I came, I of course cannot say ;
I only know that when I left, after being detained upwards of an
hour by the phenomenon, * the cry was still they come/

In Canada and Australia the emigrants sadly miss the
sweet song which delighted them in early days, and
attempts have recently been made to introduce this bird
into those colonies. Let us hope that they will be
successful.

FromBeeton's ' Book of Home Pets' we take the follow-
ing account of

HOW A SKYLARK PREACHED A SERMON.

Stories as well as poems concerning the Skylark abound; but
one of the best, both for interest and as showing the constant love
of Englishmen for this truly English bird, came to my knowledge a
few months ago.

As you are doubtless aware, there is no such thing as a song bird
in Australia : there are birds who chatter, birds who shriek, but no
bird that sings. Well, there was a young man who went from
England as a gold-digger, and was lucky enough to make some
money, and prudent enough to take care of it. He opened * a store '
(a sort of rough shop where everything from candles to coffins are
sold), at a place called ' The Ovens/ a celebrated gold-field about
two hundred miles from Melbourne. Still continuing to prosper, he,
like a dutiful son, wrote home for his father and mother, requesting
them to come out to him, and, if they possibly could, to bring with
them a Lark. So a Lark was procured, and in due time the old
folks, with their feathered charge, took ship and departed from
England. The old man, however, took the voyage so much to heart
that he died, and the old woman and the Lark landed in sound
health at Melbourne, and were speedily forwarded to Mr. Welsted's
store at The Ovens.

It was on a Tuesday when they arrived, and the next morning
the Lark was hung outside the tent, and at once commenced piping
up. The effect was electric. Sturdy diggers — big men with hairy
faces and great brown hands — paused in the midst of their work,
and listened reverently. Drunken, brutal diggers left unfinished the
blasphemous sentence, and looked bewildered and ashamed. Far
and near the news spread like lightning. ' Have you heard the

HOME RECOLLECTIONS. 177

Lark ? V 'Is it true, mate, that there is a real English Skylark up
at Jack Welsted's?'

So it went on for three days, and then came Sunday morning. Such
a sight had not been seen since the first spadeful of golden earth had
been turned! From every quarter — east, west, north, and south —
from far-off hills and from creeks twenty miles away, came a steady
concourse of great rough Englishmen, all brushed and washed as
decent as possible. The movement was by no means preconcerted,
as was evident from the half-ashamed expression of every man's face.
There they were, however, and their errand was — to hear the Lark !

Nor were they disappointed : there, perched on his wood-and-iron
pulpit, was the little minister, and as though aware of the import-
ance of the task before him, he plumed his crest, and, lifting up his
voice, sung them a sermon infinitely more effectual than the bishop
himself could have preached. It was a wonderful sight to see that
three or four hundred men, some reclining on the ground ; some
sitting with their arms on their knees, and their heads on their
hands ; some leaning against the trees with their eyes closed, so that
they might the better fancy themselves at home, and in the midst
of English corn fields once more ; but, sitting, standing, or lying, all
were equally quiet and attentive, and when, after an hour's steady
preaching, the Lark left off, his audience soberly started off, a little
low-spirited perhaps, but on the whole much happier than when they
came.

' I say, Joe,' one digger was heard to say to another, ' do you
think Welsted would sell him — the bird, you know? I '11 give as
much gold dust for him as he weighs, and think him cheap.'

' Sell him, be blowed ! ' was the indignant response ; ' how would
you like a feller to come to our village at home, and make a bid for
our parson ? '

This story recalls to our mind that affecting incident
mentioned by Mrs. Jameson, in her t Winter Studies and
Summer Eambles,' of an Irishman in Canada, who on
hearing the trill of one of these birds, introduced from the
mother country, that song of other days so dear and familiar
to him, stood, as he said, i stock still listening with his heart,
and with tearful eyes thinking of the time when, a wild slip
of a boy, he was lying on his back on the hill side above
his mother's cabin, and watching the Lark singing and
soaring over head.'

And by this again we are reminded of that beautiful
lyric of Wordsworth's, i the Reverie of Poor Susan,' in
which he describes the emotions of a simple country girl,
whose steps were arrested in Cheapside by the song of a
caged songster : —

178 AMONG THE POETS.

'T is a note of enchantment ; what ails her ? she sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees ;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail ;
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,
The only one dwelling on earth that she loves.

She looks, and her heart is in heaven ; but they fade,
The mist and the moor, the hill and the shade ;
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes.

But although poor Susan has to go on her dreary way
with an aching heart, yet has the revival of these memories
of home and childhood, called up by the sweet song of the
bird, doubtless in some measure cheered and gladdened her
weary spirit.

And yet again we are reminded by the above lines that
their author has addressed to this i Herald of Morning,' as
Shakspeare calls the bird, a lyric, so full of praise and
devotion, that it may be termed a Hymn : —

Ethereal minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky !

Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound ;
Or while thy wings aspire, are heart and eye

Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground ?
Thy nest, which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, and music still.

To the last point of vision, and beyond,

Mount, daring warbler : that love-prompted strain,

'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond,
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain ;

Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege, to sing

All independent of the leafy spring.

Leave to the Nightingale the shady wood ;

A privacy of glorious light is thine,
Whence thou dost pour upon the earth a flood

Of harmony, with rapture more divine.
Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam,
True to the kindred points of heaven and home.

The Ettrick Shepherd has bequeathed to posterity a
glorious ode to the Skylark, which must be well known to

AMONG THE POETS. 179

most of our readers : not so familiar, perhaps, is his in-
terpretation of the song of this bird which commences
thus : —

Oh my love is bonny and mild to see,
And sweetly she sits on the dewy lea,
And turns up her cheek and clear grey eye,
To list what 'a saying within the sky !
For she thinks my morning hymn so sweet
Wi' the streamers of heaven aneath my feet,
Where the proud Goshawk hath never won,
Between the grey cloud and the sun,
That she thinks her love a thing of the skies,
Sent down from the holy Paradise,
To sing to the world at morn and even,
The sweet love songs of the bowers of heaven.

Passing over many glorious poetical tributes to the Lark,
and a host of sweet singers, who have been often quoted,
we conclude with a spirited lyric, less known, by our friend
W. C. Bennett :—

Quiverer up the golden air —

Nested in a golden earth —
Mate of hours when Thrushes pair —

Hedges green and blooms have birth;
Up, thou very shout of joy,

Gladness wert thou made to fling
O'er all moods of Earth's annoy —

Up — through morning, soar and sing.

Shade by shade hath gloom decreast, —

Westward stars and night have gone,
Up and up the crimsoning east

Slowly mounts the golden dawn ;
Up — thy radiant life was given

Kapture over Earth to fling —
Morning hushes — hushed is heaven.

Dumb to hear thee soaring sing.

Up — thy utterance, silence, robs

Of the ecstacies of Earth,
Dowering sound with all the throbs

Of its madness — of its mirth ;
Tranced lies its golden prime,

Dumb with utter joy — oh fling
Listening air the raptured time —

Quivering gladness, soar and sing.

180 BENNETT'S ODE.

Up — no white star hath the west —

All is morning — all is day —
Earth in trembling light lies blest —

Heaven is sunshine — up — away ;
Up — the primrose lights the lane —

Up — the boughs with gladness ring —
Bent are bright-belled flowers again

Drooped with bees — oh soar and sing.

Ah — at last thou beat'st the sun,

Leaving, low, thy nest of love —
Higher — higher, quivering one,

Shrill'st thou up and up above ;
Wheel on wheel, the whole day through,

Might I thus with ceaseless wing,
Steep on steep of airy blue

Fling me up, and soar and sing !

Spurner of the Earth's annoy,

Might I thus in heaven be lost ! —
Like to thee, in gusty joy,

Oh, might I be tempest-tost ! —
Oh, that the melodious rain

Of thy rapture I might fling
Down, till Earth should swoon from pain —

Joy — to hear me soaring sing ! —

Yet, high wisdom by thee taught,

Were thy mighty rapture mine,
While the highest heaven I sought,

Nought of earth would I resign ;
Lost in circling light above,

Still my love to Earth should fling
All its raptures — still to love,

Caring but to soar and sing.

181

CHAPTER XIII.

LARKS AND PIPETS. THE WOOD, SHORE, AND SHORT-TOED

LARKS ; THE MEADOW, TREE, ROCK, AND RICHARD'S PIPETS.

rpHE WOODLARK (Alauda arbor ea). — This bird so
JL closely resembles the Skylark in the colour and mark-
ings of the plumage, that it would be difficult to distinguish
it from that bird, were it not that it is considerably smaller,
has a more slender bill, and a hind claw less elongated ; the
tail, too, is shorter, and there is a conspicuous light brown
streak over each eye, as well as an absence of the crest,
which, when erected, gives to the other species such a smart
and lively appearance. It is chiefly in the western and
midland districts of England that the Woodlark is met with ;
in the northern parts it is of very rare occurrence, and does
not seem to have been obtained in Scotland. It resides
permanently with us, and seldom comes near the habitations
of man, preferring wild and lonely places ; the best oppor-
tunity of observing its habits is in winter, when small
flocks come out into the open fields to search for insects,
larvas, and snails of various kinds ; when snow is on the
ground, it may be seen in marshy places watching for worms,
and when the frost is severe it resorts to the stackyards
with Sparrows, Buntings, and other small birds, to feed
upon the grain ; but from choice the bird is decidedly in-
sectivorous, more so perhaps than the Skylark. Mudie
says, that

The name is not very appropriate, for the bird is one of the waste
rather than of the woodland ; and though it perches, which the Sky-
lark does not, it has many of the habits of that bird. It feeds on the
ground, and nestles there, though under cover ; and though it occa-
sionally sings from the top of a tree or bush, its general practice is
to sing in the air, swelling its notes as it ascends, and sinking them
as it descends, in the same manner as the other. Its notes have
also some resemblance to those of the Skylark, but they are not so

182 MODES OF FLIGHT AND SONG.

numerous, and they are soft and rather plaintive, while those of the
Skylark are the merriest of all the feathered race.

When the Woodlark is near trees, it varies its pitch and cadence
probably more than the Skylark. It comes from the ground to the
tree in a sort of waving course, singing very low, and giving but a
portion of its brief stave. Then it perches, and sings in an uniform
key, but not full and round ; after a little while, wheels upward,
more wildly and rapidly than the Skylark, swelling its song as it
ascends, and sometimes rises higher than the ordinary flight of the
other, but not generally so high. When it takes the top of its flight,
it sends down a volume of song which is inexpressibly sweet, though
there is a feeling of desolation in it. The song, indeed, har-
monises well with the situation ; and to hear the Woodlark on a wild
and lone hill-side, where there is nothing to give accompaniment,
save the bleating of a flock, or the tinkle of a sheep-bell, so distant as
hardly to be audible, is certainly equal to the hearing even of those
more mellow songs which are poured forth in richer situations.

Bechstein pronounces this of all Larks'the sweetest songster,
and excepting only the Nightingale and Chaffinch, of all
birds the most delightful which retain their natural song.
Bolton says that some bird-fanciers prefer it even to the
Nightingale, with which it sometimes contends for superiority
in song, invading even those hours which are generally
considered sacred to the queen of feathered vocalists : —

What time the timorous hare limps forth to feed,
When the scared owl skims round the grassy mead,
Then, high in air and poised upon his wings,
Unseen, the soft enamoured Woodlark sings.

Blyth also says that on hot summer nights, Woodlarks
soar to a prodigious height, and hang singing in the
air. Knapp thus praises the vocal powers of the bird, and
describes its peculiar habits : —

The Redbreast, Blackbird and Thrush, in mild winters, may con-
tinually be heard, and form exceptions to the general procedure of
our British birds ; and we have one little bird, the Woodlark, that in
the early parts of the autumnal months delights us with its harmony,
and its carols may be heard in the air commonly during the calm
sunny mornings of this season. They have a softness and quietness
perfectly in unison with the sober, almost melancholy, stillness of the
hour. The Skylark also sings now, and its song is very sweet, full of
harmony, cheerful as the blue sky, and gladdening beam in which it
circles and sports, and known and admired by all ; but the voice of

WHY CALLED ALAUDA LULU. 183

the Woodlark is local — not so generally heard — from its softness,
must almost be listened for to be distinguished, and has not any pre-
tensions to the hilarity of the former. This little bird sings likewise
in the spring ; but at that season the contending songsters of the
grove, and the variety of sound proceeding from everything that has
utterance, confuse and almost render inaudible the placid voice of
the "Woodlark. It delights to fix its residence near little groves and
copses, or quiet pastures, and is a very unobtrusive bird, not uniting
in companies, but associating in its own little family parties only,
feeding in the woodlands on seeds and insects. Upon the approach
of man, it crouches close to the ground, then suddenly darts away, as
if for a distant flight, but settles again almost immediately. This
Lark will often continue its song, circle in the air a scarcely visible
speck, by the hour together ; and the vast distance from which its
voice reaches us in a calm day is almost incredible. In the scale of
comparison it stands immediately below the Nightingale in melody
and plaintiveness ; but compass of voice is given to the Linnet, a bird
of very inferior powers.

Cuvier gave the name Alauda lulu to the Woodlark,
because in the winter season, when these Larks congregate
in the open field in search of food, instead of their melodi-
ous warble, they utter a low melancholy cry, resembling the
syllables lu-lu. In Miss Waring's ' Minstrelsy of the Woods,'
the following verses occur in allusion to this wailing kind
of note : —

Dost thou love to hear the song birds of spring ?

Are their notes as voices of joy to thee?
Then fly to the groves where the Woodlarks sing,

Rejoicing once more in their vernal glee.
The spring-time is come, the winter is past,

And the Woodlarks' songs are cheerful once more ;
Their sorrows are fled with the wintry blast,

And soft-flowing lays through the woodlands they pour,
Forgetful how lately the winter wind blew,
And they sung the sad notes of their plaintive lu-lu.

With kindred and clan they mingle the strain,

And love by the birds of their race to abide ;
And they come to their forest haunts again,

To build their low nests by the green hill side.
When the stormy winds unroof their retreat,

And wither the wreaths of their summer bowers,
Then afar in the valley the wanderers meet,

And seek to beguile the sad wintry hours ;
While, chilled by the night wind, and bathed by the dew,
They chant in soft concert their plaintive lu-lu.

184 IS THIS THE WOODWELE ?

It is an open question whether the term Woodwele or
Woodwale, used by some old English writers, refers to this
bird, or to a kind of Finch or Thrush. In the ballad of
Robin Hood, where the gentle outlaw is represented as
surrounded by Nature's minstrels, it is said that —

The Woodwele sang and would not cease,

Sitting upon the spray.
So loud he wakened Kobin Hood,

In the greenwood where he lay.

Again, in ' The Rhyme of True Thomas,' we have the
name in a somewhat different form —

There the Jay and the Throstel,

The Mavis menydin her song,
The Woodwale farde or beryd as a bell

That the wode about me rung.

Clear as a bell is the reading we should give to the expres-
sion. A different reading of the quaint phraseology is
given by some, but the above seems to be as near as any
to the author's meaning.

In the early editions of Chaucer, also, this term occurs,
as thus —

In many places Nightingales,

And Alpes, and Finches, and Woodwales.

Alp is an old name for the Bullfinch. In some versions of
old poetry we believe the term Woodwele is most used, pro-
bably in allusion to our sweet Woodlark, for whose benefit,
and that of all feathered captives, we would quote
the indignant protest of the father of English poetry, as
Chaucer has been called. "We give Leigh Hunt's rendering
of the passage, which finely describes the love of freedom
inherent in the feathered creatures : —

- which men feed in cages ;

For though they day and night tend them like pages,
And strew the birds' room fair and soft as silk,
And give them sugar, honey, bread, and milk,
Yet right anon, let but the door be up,
And with his feet he spurneth down the cup,
And to the wood will he and feed on worms.

THE NEST OF THE WOODLARK. 185

Macgillivray describes the nest of the Woodlark as
placed on the ground among grass and corn ; it is composed
externally of dry grass, and lined with finer blades in-
termixed with hair ; the eggs, four or five in number, are
of a pale yellowish brown colour, freckled with amber or
greenish brown ; size, nine-twelfths of an inch long. This
author and Yarrell seem to be in error in stating that the
bird is not met with in Scotland, for Mudie speaks of its
building in the high grounds on the skirts of the Grampians,
where the nests are liable to be destroyed by the storms of
sleet and snow which set in sometimes as late as the middle
of May, or even the beginning of June. The bird begins
to breed early. Col. Montagu records the circumstance of
finding a nest with eggs in it on the fourth of April. Jen-
nings, in his l Ornithologia Poetica,' thus describes the home
of the Woodlark : —

Lo, the place ! — by a river whose stream runs along

In a warble as soft as a Nightingale's song,

In whose deeps of clear crystal the maculate trout

Is seen swiftly darting and sporting about ;

Here the hill's gentle slope to the river descends,

"Which in sinuous course through the wilderness wends ;

There, amid lofty rocks hung with ivy and yew,

Doth Echo the wood nymph her pleasure pursue,

And the combe, and the glen, and the shadowy vale

Invite the fond lover to tell his soft tale.

The woods and thick copses as mansions of rest

Many warblers oft choose for their home and their nest.

A place where content in a cottage might dwell,

A place that a hermit might choose for his cell ;

Where afar from all strife, and all tumult and pride,

The nymph, Tranquil Pleasure, delights to reside ;

When in meadow or grove, or the woodlands among,

The birds may be heard in melodious song.

THE SHORE LARK (Alauda alpestris). — This bird, which
is sometimes called the Horned Lark, resembles the Sky-
lark in form, the body being rather stout, the neck short,
the head of moderate size, the wings and tail long. The
markings of the plumage are more distinct than those of
any other members of its genus with which we are
acquainted ; the upper parts are pale brownish red, streaked

186 THE SHORELARK.

with dark brown ; the lower parts white. There is a re-
curved band of black on the head, and a large patch of
the same on the lower fore-neck ; there is also a band of
yellow over the eyes, and the throat has a yellow tinge.

SHORE LAIIK.

The length of the bird is about seven inches and a half;
on the top of the head are a few elongated feathers capable
of being erected, hence the name Horned Lark sometimes
given to it.

The Shore Lark inhabits chiefly the northern parts of
Europe, Africa, and America ; in this country only about
four specimens have been taken, two of them in Kent.
Wilson, Richardson, and Audubon give detailed accounts
of its habits. The second of these authors says that it
arrives in the fen countries along with the Lapland Bunting,
with which it associates, and being a shyer bird, is the
sentinel, and alarms the flock on the approach of danger.
It returns to the marshy and woody eastern districts to
breed, extending its range to the shores of the Arctic seas.
The following description of the peculiarities of this bird is
extracted from the i Ornithological Biography ' of that ac-
complished and indefatigable naturalist, Audubon : —

The Shore Lark breeds on the high and desolate tracks of
Labrador, in the vicinity of the sea. The face of the country
appears as if formed of one undulated expanse of granite, covered

PUGNACITY OF THE MALE. 187

with mosses and lichens, varying in size and colour, some green,
others as white as snow, and others again of every tint, and
disposed in large patches or tufts. It is on the latter that this
Lark places her nest, which is disposed with so much care, while
the nest so resembles the bird in hue, that unless you almost tread
upon her as she sits, she seems to feel secure, and remains unmoved.
Should you, however, approach so near, she nutters away, feigning
lameness so cunningly, that none but one accustomed to the sight
can refrain from pursuing her. The male immediately joins her in
mimic wretchedness, uttering a note so soft and plaintive that it
requires a strong stimulus to force the naturalist to rob the poor
birds of their treasure.

The nest around is imbedded in the moss to its edges, which are
composed of fine grasses, circularly disposed, and forming a bed
about two inches thick, with a lining of grouse feathers, and those
of other birds. In the beginning of July the eggs are deposited.
They are four or five in number, large, greyish, and covered with
numerous pale blue and brown spots. The young leave the nest
before they are able to fly, and follow their parents over the moss,
where they are fed about a week. They run nimbly, emit a soft
peep, and squat closely at the first appearance of danger. If
observed and pursued, they open their wings to aid them in their
escape, and, separating, make off with great celerity. On such
occasions it is difficult to secure more than one of them, unless
several persons be present, when each can pursue a bird. The
parents all this time are following the enemy overhead, lamenting
the danger to which their young are exposed. In several instances,
the old bird followed us almost to our boat, alighting occasionally
on a projecting crag before us, and entreating us, as it were, to
restore its offspring. By the first of August many of the young are
fully fledged, and the different broods are seen associating together,
to the number of forty, fifty, or more. They now gradually remove
to the islands of the coast, where they remain until their departure,
which takes place in the beginning of September. They start at
the dawn of day, proceed on their way south at a small elevation
above the water, and fly in so straggling a manner that they can
scarcely be said to move in flocks.

This species returns to Labrador and the adjoining islands in the
beginning of June. The males are then so pugnacious and jealous of
their females, that the sight of one of their own sex instantly excites
them to give battle; and it is curious to observe, that no sooner
does one of these encounters take place, than several other males
join in the fray. They close, flutter, bite, and tumble over, as the
European Sparrow is observed to do on similar occasions. Several
times, while in Labrador, I took advantage of their pugnacious dis-
position, and procured two or three individuals at a shot, which it
is difficult to do at any other time. Several pairs breed in the same
place, but not near each other. The male bird sings sweetly while

188 THE SHORT-TOED LARK.

on wing, although its song is comparatively short. It springs from
the moss or naked rock obliquely for about forty yards, begins and
ends its madrigal, then performs a few irregular evolutions, and
returns to the ground. There also it sings, but less frequently, and
with less fullness. Its call-note is quite mellow, and altered at
times in a ventriloquial manner, so different, as to seem like that of
another species. As soon as the young are hatched, the whole are
comparatively mute, merely using the call-note. Only one brood is
reared each season. The food of the Shore Lark consists of grass
seeds, the blossoms of dwarf plants, and insects. It is an expert
catcher of flies, following insects on wing to a considerable distance,
and now and then betaking itself to the sea-shore to search for
minute shell-fish or crustacese.

SHORT-TOEL) LAKX.

THE SHORT-TOED LARK (Alauda Irachydactyld). — We
are not aware that more than a single specimen of this bird
has been taken in Britain ; that was at Shrewsbury in
1841. It bears some resemblance to the Woodlark, from
which it may be readily distinguished by its stouter beak,
its nearly plain and unspotted breast, and its very short
hind toes and claws, from which latter peculiarity its name
is derived. The length of the specimen taken here was
five inches and three-quarters.

Temininck states that this bird is very abundant in Sicily,
and that it is found generally along the shores of the Medi-
terranean, in Spain, and in the southern and central parts of
France ; its extreme northern range in Europe appears to

THE PIPETS, OR TITLARKS. 189

be Germany. It feeds on insects and seeds ; makes its
nest on the ground ; and lays four or five eggs of a dull
yellow or pale coffee colour, without spots.

THE PIPETS OR TITLARKS.

These birds are very intimately allied to the Larks on
the one hand, and to the Wagtails on the other, forming a
sort of connecting link between the two, although of more
slender make than the former, and differing from them in
some other particulars, yet their affinity to them, both in
form and colouring, is so great, that up to a very recent
period they have been placed in the same genus, and
frequently called Larks. They are small, slender, active
birds, with sharp, weak, and somewhat querulous notes,
which they utter rapidly, vibrating their body the while.
They may be found in various situations, but chiefly in
meadows and pastures ; some on the seashore, or elevated
moors. They construct a neat nest among the grass,
beside a tuft, stone, or low bush, and lay four or five
spotted eggs, usually twice in a season. Having premised
thus much as to the general habits of the Anthus or Pipet
genus, we may proceed to describe the four species which
occur in Britain. The most common of these is —

THE MEADOW PIPET (Anthus pratensis), sometimes called
the Titlark or Titling, which may be found in pastures,
cultivated fields, and on moors, all over England and
Scotland. In the latter country the names Ling-bird and
Moss- Cheeper have been applied to it. They are suffi-
ciently indicative of its common haunts in that country,
the heaths and moors where ling and gorse abound, and
the moss grows thick on the fragments of rock strewn
about the scene of desolation ; for although called the
Meadow Pipet, this is more emphatically what Hogg calls
the Skylark, a

Bird of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cuniberless.

In length, not quite six inches, with a dusky olive-
tinted plumage, flushed here and there with red, and

190 THE MEADOW PIPET.

spotted and otherwise marked with brownish black, our
lively little Pipet goes jerking about from place to place,
seeking its food, consisting of worms, slugs, and insects,
on the ground ; or rises with a vibrating motion in the

MEADOW PIPET.

air, and there hovers over its nest, singing a song, weak
in comparison with that of the Skylark, but not altogether
destitute of a wild sweet melody, which it will sometimes
pour forth while standing on a mound of earth, or a stone,
with its tail moving up and down, and keeping time to the
music as though it were part of the machinery which pro-
duced it.

In Ireland, Thompson has found the nest of this bird in
the banks of water- courses and drains, as well as on the
ground in fields ; he says that the country people, in Kerry,
call it Wekeen, probably in reference to the double- ee -like
sound of its call-note, the cheep, which has occasioned its
being called Moss Cheeper by the people of the lake dis-
tricts and Scotland.

Dried bents, lined with those of a finer texture, and
some hairs, when they can be obtained, form the materials
of the nest of this bird ; the eggs are from four to six in
number, of a reddish brown colour, mottled over with
darker brown. To divert attention from her nest, the hen

THE TREE PIPET. 191

bird has been known to feign being wounded, and also
to cover it with grass, leaving a small aperture beneath
by which to enter : this grassy covering has been re-
moved several times, and replaced by the careful parent, it
might be to screen her young ones from the heat of the
sun, or for purposes of concealment. It is in the nest of
the Titling that the Cuckoo most frequently deposits her
egg, and the country people, who have often seen the latter
followed by the former bird, derisively speak of the two as
parasite and patron, although they seem to forget that the
parasite is in reality the larger, and not the smaller bird.

A remarkable instance of the power of flight of this
apparently weak and delicate species is given in * Stanley's
Familiar History of Birds.' A common Titlark alighted
on board a vessel from Liverpool, in latitude 47° 4' south,
longitude 43° 19' west, at a distance of at least thirteen
hundred miles from the nearest mainland of South America,
and about nine hundred from the wild and barren island of
Georgia. The poor little traveller was taken, and brought
back to Liverpool, where it was seen by Dr. Traill, one of
our most eminent naturalists.

THE TREE PIPET (Antlius arloreus). — sometimes called
the Meadow, or Short-beaked Field Lark, differs so little in
size and colour from the species last described, that only
a practised ornithologist could tell the difference ; the
hind claw of this bird is more curved and shorter than
that of the other, and this differs from it in some of its
habits, being a migratory species, generally appearing in
England about the 20th of April, and in Scotland in the
beginning of May. It does not frequent the moors and
open waste places, but chiefly the cultivated vicinity of
woods and thickets. It has too a more mellow, modulated
and long-continued song than the Titlark, which it sings
while descending from an elevation of twenty or thirty
yards, and sometimes while perched on a tree ; during the
time of singing the wings and tail are fluttered.

The nest, similar to that of its congener, is found among
the grass in a wood, or near the margin ; the eggs, four or
five in number, are greyish or purplish white, marked with

192 THE ROCK PIPET.

spots and blotches of dark red, or purplish brown. The
nest being cunningly concealed is difficult to find. The food

TREE PIPET.

of this species is similar to that of the one last described,
chiefly worms and insects, but sometimes seeds.

THE ROCK PIPET (Anthus aquations). — Sometimes called
the Rock, Sea, or Dusky Lark; the Shore Pipet. This bird
is considerably larger than the two preceding species,
measuring about six inches and three quarters in length ;
it has a larger bill than they, and a shorter hind claw to
the foot. The colours and markings of the plumage are
very similar to those of the other Pipets. So generally is
this bird distributed along the British coast, that Yarrell
never remembers looking for it there without finding it.
At any considerable distance from the sea this bird is
never, or very rarely, found; it occurs in Ireland and
Wales, as well as England. It is a handsome, graceful bird,
and has a song louder and less pleasing than that of the
Meadow Pipet — it is a shrill warble, uttered while the
songster is hovering in the air. When any one intrudes

A SHORE-HAUNTER. 193

near the nest the bird hovers round, uttering incessantly its
shrill querulous notes, and thus, and by its restlessness,
betrays its alarm, and often points out the very spot which
it wishes most to conceal.

ROCK OR SHORE PIPET.

The food of this bird consists of insects, larvae, small
molluscous animals, and seeds, in searching for which it
mixes with other birds, but chiefly those of its own genus.
In summer, when masses of sea-weed are cast on shore
and become putrid, the Shore Pipet finds among this an
abundant supply of larvaa.

Mudie describes this bird as inhabiting the sea-shores,
and finding the principal part of its food at and within
high -water mark. In manner its song in spring, and its
chirp at all times, bear a very close resemblance to those
of the Meadow Pipet. It runs with great ease along the
sand, picking up its food, and when alarmed it hops onward
with a bouncing flight. The nest is formed of bents or
other plants growing near the sea, and lined with finer
fibres, or with leaves. The eggs are not more than five,
yellowish grey, with reddish brown spots, especially at the
thick ends. There are two broods or more in the course
of the year,

N

194

RICHARD S PIPET.

KICHARD'S PIPET (Anthus Ricardi). — But little is
known of the habits of this species, which is rare in Great
Britain, only a few specimens having been met with here ;
it has a long hind claw, and an olive brown plumage on
the upper parts, and dull white on the under ; the breast
and sides being tinged with reddish yellow, and marked
with oblong dusky spots. The form is slender and graceful,
approaching very near to that of the Wagtails ; it is a rare
bird on the Continent, and but little is known of its habits.
It is said to keep very much on the ground, where it runs
with great swiftness and facility, waving its tail up and
down with a gentle, easy motion ; it emits a loud shrill
note while flying, feeds chiefly on insects, and lays reddish
white eggs, speckled with light brown or red:

RICHARD S PIPET.

Gould, in his * Birds of Europe,' mentions but two instances
that had occurred of the capture of the bird in this country ;
we can add a third : one was shot about six or seven years
since, in Kent, by Mr. Mummery of Margate, in the museum
of which town the specimen is preserved,

195

COMMON OK COBN BUNTING.

CHAPTER XIV.

BUNTINGS COMMON, YELLOW, CTRL, ORTOLAN, SNOW AND

LAPLAND BUNTINGS.

THE Emberizince, or Bunting family, is composed of
species intimately allied with the Passerince, or Sparrow
family, in which are included the various kinds of Finches
and Linnets. All these birds agree in their general charac-
teristics, and one unacquainted with the structural and
other differences, appreciable only to the scientific natu-
ralist, wonders why they should be placed in distinct family
groups.

Of the true Buntings we have in this country five species,
of the Lark Buntings two ; the latter birds form an inter-
mediate link between the Sparrows and Larks. All the
birds of this family have a strong, undulating, and rapid
flight. They move on the ground by short leaps, frequent
the open fields, retreating to trees and bushes when dis-
turbed, and reposing at night on the ground or on low
bushes. They are heavy birds, and more terrestrial in
their habits than the Larks or Finches.

196 THE CORN BUNTING.

THE CORN BUNTING (Emberiza milliaria), is remarkably
full and robust of form. It has a large head, and short,
stout bill, characteristic of the Deglubitrices, or Huskers, to
which order all these birds belong. The length of this
species is about seven inches and a quarter. In the colour
of its plumage it closely resembles the Field Lark, having
the upper parts light yellowish brown, shaded with blackish
brown ; the lower parts pale yellowish grey, each feather
of the foreneck being tipped with a triangular spot of dark
brown, so as to give it a mottled appearance.

This is the commonest of the British species, being a per-
manent resident, and generally distributed, although it is much
rarer in some districts than others. It is a hardy bird, and
abounds in some of the Scottish Isles, especially the Heb-
rides, where it is generally known as the Sparrow. Its food
consists of the seeds of grasses and other plants, the various
kinds of grain, and some insects, especially beetles. It
frequents open pastures, grass and corn land, and keeps
pretty closely within the limits of cultivation, being seldom
found on the wild moors or hill-sides.

These Buntings begin to build towards the end of April.
The nest is composed of dry stalks and blades of grass, with
a lining of fibrous roots and leaves. It is placed on the
ground beside a strong tuft of grass or other plant, under a
bush, and sometimes in an open pasture, or cultivated field.
The eggs are four or five in number, about ten and a half
twelfths of an inch long, greyish or purplish white, marked
with spots and dots, and curved streaks of blackish brown
and greyish purple. When the breeding season is over
these birds collect together in small flocks, and as autumn
advances they may be found in the stubble field searching for
the scattered grain and seeds of various kinds. i Frequently
at this season they sit close, like the Larks, and will allow
a person to approach very near before they fly off; but for
the most part they are shy, and not easily approached. In
winter, especially in cold or boisterous weather, they appear
near houses, and mingle in the stackyards with Sparrows,
Yellow Buntings, Larks, and other small birds; but they are
not so gregarious as those species, and are very seldom met
with in large flocks. Their flight is strong, capable of being

THE YELLOW-HAMMER. 197

long protracted, undulated, being formed by alternate beat-
ings and cessations, but heavier and more steady or direct
than that of the Yellow Bunting. When surprised in a field,
or roused from a corn- yard, they fly off with a direct, rapid
motion; but often when an individual, which has been
resting on a twig or wall-top, starts away, it allows its feet
to hang for a short time before it commences its bounding
flight. I believe there is no other bird of this order which
has this habit.'

During the spring and summer this bird, which, on
account of the resemblance of its plumage to that of the
Skylark, is often called the Lark Bunting, may be frequently
seen perched on the upper branch of a tall hedge, or on the
top of a low tree, uttering its harsh, unmusical notes, re-
sembling the syllables chat or chit sharply and rapidly
uttered, and followed by a protracted one. This, although
most frequent during the breeding season, may be heard
occasionally at all seasons.

In the autumn these birds become gregarious, and visit
the barn -yards in company with Chaffinches, Sparrows, &c.,
for the sake of the grain to be obtained there. At this
time they have a very destructive habit, which is thus
mentioned by Knapp : — * It can hardly be supposed that
this bird, not larger than a Lark, is capable of doing serious
injury ; yet I this morning witnessed a stack of barley,
standing in a detached field, entirely stripped of its thatch-
ing, which this Bunting effected by seizing the end of the
straw, and deliberately drawing it out to search for any
grain the ear might contain ; the base of the rick being
entirely surrounded by the straw, one end resting on the
ground and the other against the mow, as it slid down from
the summit, and regularly placed as if by the hand ; and
so completely was the thatching pulled off that the imme-
diate removal of the corn became necessary. The Sparrow
and other birds burrow into the stack and pilfer the corn ;
but the deliberate operation of unroofing the edifice appears
to be the habit of this Bunting alone.'

THE YELLOW-HAMMER (Emberiza citrinelld). — This fami-
liar bird is known by a great variety of local names, such a3

198 ITS NEST AND SONG.

Yeldring, Yoldring, Yowley or Yite, Yolkring or Yeldrock,
Skite or Devil's-bird. It is about seven inches and a half
long, and the colour of its plumage is chiefly yellow, of
different shades, having on the back and breast a red tinge.
Many of the feathers are tipped with black, and shaded with
brownish red, so that altogether this is a very handsome
bird, although being so common it attracts little admiration.
In most districts of England this species abounds, but most
in those parts which are well wooded.

* Towards the beginning of April,' says Macgillivray,
i these birds choose their partners without the manifesta-
tion of angry feelings, they being less addicted to quarrel
than most small birds. When vegetation has advanced,
they repair to bushy places and the willowy sides of brooks
and streams, and commence the construction of their nests,
which are bulky, composed externally of coarse grasses and
small twigs, and neatly lined with fine grass, fibrous roots
and hair.' The nest is usually placed on the ground, or
sometimes in a clump of thick grass and herbage. The eggs,
four or five in number, are of a regular oval form, purplish
white, marked with linear and angular streaks, and a few
irregular dots of black. They are about ten-twelfths of an
inch long. The lines and angles sometimes observable on
the eggs have been thought to bear some resemblance to
written characters ; hence the name ' Writing-lark,' some-
times applied to this bird, which, as a songster, is inferior
to most of our feathered vocalists ; and this inferiority is
recognised by Grahame, whose lines we shall presently
quote. Neville Wood, too, describes the song of the
Yellow Bunting as i harsh and monotonous, consisting only
of one oft-repeated strain, comprising two or three tones,
the first occurring several times, with a kind of confused
turn at the end. Though not remarkable for power, the
notes are audible at a very considerable distance.'

Mr. Salmon, in l The Naturalist,' mentions having found the
nest of this bird at the extraordinary elevation of seven feet
from the ground, among the branches of some broom, which,
though naked at the bottom, were close and bushy at the
head ; and Mr. Blackwell, in < The Zoological Journal,' re-

PECULIAR HABITS. 199

cords that a female of this species deposited its eggs on the
bare ground in June, and sat on them until they were
hatched. Bishop Mant says —

Low in the garden's thorny bound,
Or under, on the shelving mound,
'Mid waving bent grass, or the bloom
Of blossomed furze, her humble home
The Yellow Bunting plants.

The male, whose song is heard in spring and summer,
but particularly during warm sunny days in June, is re-
markable for his attention to the female, taking his turn
upon the eggs during the period of incubation ; Mr. Wood
mentions having heard him sing while thus engaged.

Macgillivray says that these Buntings evince much anxiety
about their charge, and when deprived of their eggs or
young, continue some days about the place, chaunting at
intervals their dolorous ditty, which, although unaltered in
its notes, must doubtless be meant as an expression of
grief. In some parts of Scotland it is interpreted as signi-
fying c Deil, deil, deil-take-ye ! ' that is, the cruel nesters ;
and for this reason probably the Yellow Bunting is named
the Devil's-bird.

When perched on a tree, especially in windy weather,
they crouch close to the twigs, draw in their neck, and
keep the tail declined. After pairing, the male is fre-
quently seen on a bush or tree, moving his tail by sudden
jerks, by which it is raised, and at the same time slightly
expanded. His notes are then usually two chirps, followed
by a harsher note : chit, chit, chirr, with considerable inter-
vals. When feeding on the stubble fields, they advance
by very short leaps, with their breasts nearly touching the
ground ; when apprehensive of danger, crouch motionless,
and when alarmed give intimation to each other by means
of their ordinary short note. They are generally more
shy than Chaffinches, but less so than the Corn Buntings.
Their food consists of seeds of the cereal plants, especially
oats, grasses, chickweed, and others. In hard weather
they may often be seen on the roads picking insects out of
horsedung, and in summer they also eat insects and larvae.

200 AN INOFFENSIVE BIRD.

Scarcely, we think, can this be the bird spoken of by
Dray ton in his ' Polyolbion ' —

The Yellow-pate, although she hurt the blooming tree,
Yet scarce hath any bird a finer pipe than she ;

although we know not to what other the allusion is in-
tended. Grahame's lines are very descriptive : —

Even in a bird the simplest notes have charms ;

For mo I love the Yellow Hammer's song.

"When earliest buds begin to bulge, his note,

Simple reiterated, oft is heard

On leafless briar, or half-grown hedge-row thin,

Nor does he cease his note till autumn's leaves

Fall fluttering round his golden head so bright.

Fair-plumaged bird ! cursed by the causeless hate

Of every schoolboy, still by me thy lot

Was pitied! Never did I tear thy nest:

I loved thee, pretty bird, for 't was thy nest

Which first, unhelped by older eyes, I found.

The very spot I think I now behold !

Forth from my low-roofed home I wandered blithe

Down to thy side, sweet Cart, where 'cross the stream

A range of stones below a shallow ford

Stood in the place of the now spanning arch.

Up from that ford a little bank there was,

With alder-copse and willow overgrown,

Now worn away by mining winter floods ;

There, at a bramble root, sunk in the grass,

The hidden prize of withered field-straws formed.

Well lined with many a coil of hair and moss,

And in it laid five red-veined spheres, I found.

Mudie says that —

The abundance and beauty of these birds do not, in any way,
win them favour. Boys destroy the nests of Yellow Buntings from
mere wantonness, and in some parts of the country break their eggs
with a sort of superstitious abhorrence. The bird does not haunt
cairns which have been collected over graves in the wilds, and
thereby associate itself with the terrors of these, as is the case with
the Wheatear ; neither does it abound most about those other places
which popular superstition is prone to invest with supernatural
terrors, and to link with the malignant powers of the spiritual
world. It is a bird of the fields and the daylight, offending in
nothing, except the want of song be an offence; and certainly not so

THE GIRL BUNTING. 201

disagreeable in that way, or so destructive of small seeds in gardens,
as the House Sparrow; but still it is a marked bird, and the very
beauty of its eggs are, in some places, made a ground for their
wanton destruction. According to the absurd superstition, the
parent birds are fed each with ' a drop of the devil's blood ' on the
morning of May-day; and that infernal draught taints the eggs
with those streaks and 'gouts' which, in truth, make them so
beauriful. What first gave rise to superstitions so absurd, and so
contrary to all that we are taught to know of the nature of spiritual
beings, it is not easy to say : but to the credit of the times, they are
fast wearing out.

THE GIRL BUNTING (Emleriza Cirlus). — This species is
somewhat smaller than the last, which it closely resembles
in form, and the general colours of the plumage; it has
however distinguishing marks on the back, head, and
throat, and the crescent- shaped patch of yellow on the fore
neck, the lower part of which is dull green. Col. Montagu
was the first to describe this bird as a British visitant ; this
was in the winter of 1800, when he procured several speci-
mens in the neighbourhood of Kingsbridge. He subse-
quently observed it between Glastonbury and Bridgewater,
and states that it had been traced westward to Falmouth in
Cornwall. Individuals have since been met with in various
parts of England ; but Devonshire and the neighbouring
counties appear to be its more peculiar residence, and there
it is said to breed and remain throughout the year. The
above-named naturalist states that it generally builds in
furze or some low bush ; the nest being composed of dry
stalks, roots, and a little moss, and lined with long hair and
fibrous roots. The eggs are four or five in number, cinere-
ous white, with irregular long and short curved dusky
lines, terminating frequently with a spot at one end. These
birds pair in April, and begin laying early in May. Having
taken the young, it was found that insects were the most
partial food, especially the common grasshopper. When
they could peck, the smallest seeds were acceptable, and
canary the favourite ; of grain, wheat and barley were
rejected ; but oats were greedily devoured after they had
dexterously and quickly deprived them of the outer coat.
The monotonous song of the male was incessant, and so

202 THE BLACK-HEADED BUNTING.

shrill and piercing as to be offensive. The female has only
a simple plaintive note.

BLACK-HEADED BUNTING.

THE BLACK-HEADED BUNTING (Emberiza Scliceniclus). —
Sometimes called the Keed or Ring Bunting, the Eeed or
Water Sparrow, the Ring Bird, Chink, or Black Bonnet.
This species is about six inches and a quarter long, it is there-
fore smaller than either of the Buntings already described ;
it is also more slender in its make; it has a glossy black head
and throat, which, contrasting with the white neck, breast,
and belly, makes it a very conspicuous object; the back is
bright chestnut, marked with brownish black. Marshy
places, the sides of lakes and large ponds, the banks of
rivers and canals, rush-grown water meadows, and osier
beds, are the favourite haunts of this bird, and in all the
southern counties of England where such are to be found,
would a search for the Reed Bunting be successful ; it is
common in Wales, is included by Thompson in his Birds of
Ireland, and extends northward to Scotland ; it does not
appear to visit Orkney or Shetland, but has been observed
in the Hebrides, and on the margins of all the lochs and the
swampy district of Sutherlandshire. We read of the bird
as inhabiting Russia and Italy, and being a summer visitant
in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, but of all the conti-
nental countries, it is found most plentifully in Holland t

SITUATION OF NEST. 203

which is best suited to its peculiar habits, of which Mudie
gives us this characteristic account : —

The Reed Buntings are rather energetic in the air, and active in
many of their motions, those of the tail especially, which are more
rapid than even in those of the Wagtails. The tail is considerably-
produced and spread, and forked at the extremity. The habit
which the bird has of clinging to the flexible culms of the aquatic
plants, with free use of its bill, so that it may bruise the husks and
pick out the seeds, renders the powerful and ready motion of the
tail, as a means of balancing, absolutely necessary. The security
and even the grace with which it rides, when the stems are laid
almost level with the water, now on one side and then on another,
are well worthy of notice. It not only adheres as if it were part of
the plant, but it contrives to maintain nearly the same horizontal
position, with its head to the wind. In action, though not in song, it-
is the most interesting bird that inhabits the same locality.

When the winds of autumn and winter have shaken out the seeds,
and the floods borne down the reeds themselves, the Reed Bunting
resorts to other pastures, associating with the Yellow Bunting and
other grain-eating birds, and in company with them approaching
houses and farm-yards when the weather is severe.

It has been noticed by Mr. Salmon of Thctford, that both
sexes of this bird endeavour to allure intruders from their
nest. In a contribution to ' London's Magazine of Natural
History,' he says —

Walking last spring amongst some rushes growing near a river,
my attention was arrested by observing a Black-headed Bunting
shuffling through the rushes, and trailing along the ground, as if one
of her legs or wings were broken. I followed her to see the result,
and she, having led me to some considerable distance, took wing, no
doubt much rejoiced on return to find her stratagems had been
successful in preserving her young brood, although not in preventing
the discovery of her nest, containing five young ones, which I found
was placed, as usual, on the side of a hassock, or clump of grass,
and almost screened from view by overhanging dead grass. I have
invariably found it in such a situation, and never suspended between
reeds, as is sometimes stated; it was composed of dried grass, and
lined sparingly with hair.

An anecdote of this bird is related by Neville Wood,
which seems to indicate the possession of a reasoning
power.

Some years ago, when walking with a friend, I remember seeing
two Reed Buntings in an osier bed, the male perched erect on the

204 CAREFUL CONCEALMENT.

summit of a willow stem, and his mate running beneath, or only
occasionally coming within view. On our entering the osiers they
both flew around us in great alarm, mostly in silence, but sometimes
uttering a low mournful kind of note, at the same time darting
suddenly about the hedge and willow stems, as if impatient for our
immediate departure; and their manners were so different from
those commonly observed in the species, that we were convinced
that there must be a nest thereabouts. I was well aware of the
difficulty of finding the little tenement in a situation of that kind,
and accordingly we both of us began to move in different directions,
in order to discover by the actions of the birds where their treasure
lay. My friend traversed one side of the osier bed, and myself the
other ; but still the loving and faithful couple remained in precisely
the same spot, where the junctions of two hedges formed a corner;
and we therefore concluded, naturally enough, that on that spot all
their hopes were centered. But a close and minute investigation of
the whole corner, during which we laid the ground completely bare,
revealed nothing to us. At length, a full hour after the commence-
ment of our labours, I hit upon the nest by mere chance, at exactly
the opposite end to that at which the Eeed Buntings had been, and
still were, prosecuting their whinings and manoeuvres, which now
proved beyond a doubt, what I had never before suspected, that the
birds had been all the time endeavouring to attract our attention
towards them instead of towards the nest.

The eggs of this bird are four or five in number, of a
pale purple brown colour, streaked with deeper tints of the
same. The nest is placed among aquatic plants, or in a
tuft of grass or reeds, sometimes fastened to the stems, but
as frequently deposited on the ground. It is composed of
dry stalks and blades of grasses, bits of rushes, and other
similar materials, and is neatly lined with finer grasses and
hair. Some authors have described the nest as composed
of grass, lined with the soft down of the reed, and suspended
between four reed stalks; but the nest so described must
have been that of the Eeed Warbler, with which that of this
species does not agree either in materials or situation.
Again, the Bunting has been said to utter a soft, melodious
warbling song, frequently heard in the night ; this account
exactly suits the Warbler, but not the Bunting, whose note
is harsh and unmelodious.

THE ORTOLAN BmTr$G(EmberizaHortulana). — This bird
has a greenish grey head and neck, covered with dusky

THE ORTOLAN BUNTING.

205

the back is reddish grey with black spots, breast
and under parts bay, the feathers being tipped with grey ;
a narrow band of yellow proceeds from the angle of the
bill, and extends over the lower part of the face like a

ORTOLAN BUNTING.

moustache. The length is about six inches and a quarter.
It is a rare species in this country, and was first described
by Brown under the head of the Green-headed Buntingj
from a living specimen taken in Marylebone Fields by a
London bird-catcher. Two or three other specimens only
have been taken in Britain. The bird is only a summer
visitor to the middle and northern countries of Europe. It
is found in high northern latitudes every season, and the
wonder is that so few reach this country.

La Vaillant observes of this species that it is most nume-
rous in the northern parts of France, where it arrives about
the same time as the Swallows, and a little before the Quails.
And Mr. Hay, in reference to the habits of the bird in a
part of the continent farther north, observes that it makes
its appearance at the beginning of May, and almost imme-
diately pairs and commences building. i Its monotonous,

206 HABIT OF FEEDING.

chirping notes are heard the whole day long ; these "birds
prefer light sandy soils, and invariably build on the ground
in fields of corn ; at least I have never met with a nest in
any other situation. Those I found were placed in a slight
hollow, were something similar to the nest of the Skylark,
but rather more compact, the interior lined with fine grass
and a few hairs. The eggs are from four to six in number,
blueish white, speckled and spotted with black. These birds
retire southwards early, few being seen after the end of
August. They at that time are taken in great numbers in
nets, with decoy-birds, and fattened for table.' Mr. Gould
says that ' when thus caught they are kept in a dark room
and there fed with plenty of oats and millet-seed, upon which
they quickly fatten.' Booth, in his < Analytical Dictionary,'
says : — ' These birds are fed up till they become lumps
of fat of three ounces in weight, some of which are potted
or otherwise preserved, and exported to other countries.'

This bird feeds on insects during the early part of the
season, and on grain and seeds when they have ripened.
A gourmand will take an Ortolan by the legs and crush it
in delicious mouthfuls, so as absolutely to lose none of it.
More delicate feeders cut the bird into quarters, and lay
aside the gizzard, which is somewhat hard ; the rest may
be eaten even to the bones, which are sufficiently tender
for the most delicate mouths to masticate without incon-
venience. In an interesting account of this bird, given in
1 The Illustrated News ' some years since, it is stated that
in Italy, where the bird is kept for gastronomic purposes,
it is fed l in a dark room.' A correspondent says : —

This is true only to a certain extent, and is apt to mislead many
of your readers. The fact is that the Ortolan has a peculiar habit
of feeding, which is opposed to its rapid fattening ; it feeds only at
the rising of the sun. To surmount this peculiarity, those who
pander to the taste of Italian gourmands place the Ortolans in
a warm chamber, perfectly dark, with only one aperture in the wall.
Their food is scattered over the floor of the chamber. In the
morning the keeper of the birds places a lantern in the orifice
of the wall; by the light thus thrown in, the Ortolans, thinking the
sun is about to rise, greedily consume the food upon the floor.
More food is scattered about, and the lantern withdrawn. The
Ortolans soon fall asleep. In about two hours the whole process is

THE SNOW BUNTING. 207

repeated, and so on four or five times every day. The Ortolans
thus treated become like little balls of fat in a few days. This
arises from the absence of waste by motion, in the extra sleep
which the birds get, absence of the usual chemical changes from
the influence of light, an unusual supply of food from their taking
four or five meals a day instead of one, and great facilities for
digesting that food in being removed from the view of external
objects, which produce anxieties, and hamper the digestion.

SNOW BUNTING.

THE SNOW BUNTING (Plectrophanes nivalis). — This bird
is called by Macgillivray the Snow Lark-bunting. It forms
one of the genus Plectrophanes , of which there are but few
species, two only being known as British birds. This is
sometimes called the Snow or Oat-fowl, or the Snowflake.
It has the head, cheeks, and a band on the lower neck light
reddish brown ; the back and sides are black, with a broad
patch of white across each wing ; the whole of the lower
parts of the body are also white. This species measures
somewhat over six inches and a half; that is, about the
size of the Yellow Bunting, which it also resembles in its
form ; but it is readily distinguished by its peculiar colour-
ing, in which the white predominates ; hence, probably, the
name Snowflake, &c.

It is as a winter visitant only that we know this bird.
During the breeding season it is said to inhabit the Arctic
regions, and the islands of the Polar Sea. The most

208 LIFE IN DEATH.

southerly of its breeding stations of the New World that
has been recorded is Southampton Island, in the sixty -
second parallel, where Captain Lyons fixed a nest placed
on the bosom of a corpse of an Esquimaux child. It was
composed of dry grass, neatly lined with deer's hair and a
few feathers. Generally the nest is fixed in the crevice of
a rock, or on a loose pile of timber or stones. The eggs are
greenish white, with a circle of irregular umber-brown spots
round the thick end, and numerous blotches of subdued
pale purple.

' On the 22nd of July,' says Captain Lyons, ( on remov-
ing some drift timber lying on the beach of Cape Parry, we
discovered a nest upon the ground containing four young
Snow-birds. Care was taken not to injure them ; and while
we were seated at breakfast, at the distance of only two or
three feet, the parent birds made frequent visits to their
offspring, at first timidly, but at length with the greatest
confidence, and every time bringing grubs in their bills.'

Besides grubs and insects, these birds feed upon the
seeds of the water-plants, and the shelly mollusca which
adhere to the leaves. They migrate in large whirling, roving
flocks, and commonly settle down upon a country either
immediately before or soon after an inundating fall of snow.
Macgillivray has observed them in the Hebrides and other
parts of Scotland, and described them as flying rather low
along the shore, somewhat in the manner of Larks, moving
in an undulating line by means of repeated flappings and
short intervals of cessation, and uttering a soft and rather
low cry, consisting of a few mellow notes not unlike those of
the Brown Linnet, and intermixed at times with a sort of
stifled scream, or chirr. When they have found a fitting
place, they whirl suddenly round, and alight rather abruptly,
on which occasion the white of the wings and tail becomes
very conspicuous. They run with great celerity along the
strand, not by hops like the Sparrows and Finches, but
more like Larks and • Pipets, and when thus occupied it is
not in general difficult to approach them, so that specimens
are easily procured. In. i John o'Groat's Journal' for 1854
we read : —

' SNOW FOWLS. — Numerous flocks of these winter visitants

THE LAPLAND BUNTING. 20U

are now seen about our shores — in some cases so large that
they number many thousands of birds. These Snow Bunt-
ings, as they are termed, come in large flights to the Scot-
tish coast at this season of the year, and many of them fall
a prey to hunger and the fowling-piece.'

Now winter stretches forth his icy hand,
And furious Aquilo impetuous blows
Southwards from far the Hyperborean snows —

Sleet, shower, and hail, and all their wintry band ;

And with them from Spitzbergen's rocky strand,
"White as the snowflakes upon Scotia's cliffs,
With changed coat the storm- toil Bunting drifts,

Wearied with rapid flight o'er sea and land.

LAPLAND BUNTING.

THE LAPLAND BUNTING (Plectroplianes Lapponica.) —
The Lapland Lark-bunting or Lapland Finch is nearly the
same size as the Snowflake ; its proportions too are pretty
much the same. The male in winter has the top of the
head black, spotted with red, the forepart of the neck greyish
white with black markings ; there are two transverse white
bands across the wings. In summer, the top of the head,
the cheeks, foreneck, and part of the breast, are pure black,
the underparts white. This is another bird which is most
plentiful in high northern latitudes ; it inhabits the colder
regions of both continents, and migrates southward on the
approach of winter. Only four specimens are recorded to

o

210 A MIGRATORY BIRD.

have been taken in this country. Dr. Richardson, in his
' Fauna Boreali Americana,' describes them as breeding
in moist meadows on the shores of the Arctic Sea, the nest
being placed on a small hillock among stones and moss. It
is composed externally of the dry stems of grass, interwoven
to a considerable thickness, and lined very neatly and com-
pactly with dried leaves. The eggs, usually seven, are of
a pale ochre yellow, spotted with brown. This author
says : ' I never met this species in the interior of the fur
countries during winter, and I suspect that its principal
retreats in that season are on the borders of the Lakes
Huron and Superior, and in the country extending to the
westward in the same parallel.'

Pennant, in his ' Arctic Zoology,' states that this species
is found in Siberia, and near the Uralian chain. Towards
winter a few migrate southward, as far as Switzerland ;
and M. Necker, in his papers in the * Transactions of the
Natural History Society of Geneva,' observes that this bird
had been occasionally taken with Larks in that neighbour-
hood. In the higher northern latitudes Capt. James Ross
reports that the Lapland Buntings are by no means nume-
rous, although they breed there. A nest with five eggs
was brought on board his ship in July 1830.

In western wilds, and Lapland's icy wastes ;

In marshy meadows by the Arctic Sea ;
In drear Siberia, where the captive tastes

The bitterness of Russian tyranny,
Its summer home the Spotted Bunting makes ;

And when the wintry blasts are loud and shrill
Unto more genial climes itself betakes,

Where icy bonds stay not the flowing rill.
But seldom comes it to the British coast,

Nor tarries long from its loved northern home,
Though driven here and there, and tempest-tost,

'Mid whirling snow-drift, and far-flashing foam.

211

THE COCK SPARROW.

CHAPTER XV.

SPARROWS AND FINCHES. — THE HOUSE AND TREE SPARROWS,
CHAFFINCH. MOUNTAIN FINCH. AND HAWFINCH.

T

SHE extensive family Passerince, is composed of birds
whose average size does not exceed that of the com>
mon House Sparrow, which is the best known and most
extensively distributed species of its tribe. The five
genera into which this family has been divided have all
British representatives, which generally agree in the charac-
teristics which they present. They have all ovate bodies,
compact and stout, short necks, large heads, and moderately
long wings and tails. They are generally distributed over
the country, and are for the most part numerous. Many
of them keep to the cultivated districts, and nearly all in
winter draw near to human habitations, and derive, in
very severe weather, the principal part of their food from
the farm, the stackyard, and the stubble field.

212 THE COCK SPARROW.

THE HOUSE SPARROW (Passer domesticus). — Who does
not know the common Cock Sparrow, as the bird is gene-
rally called, whether it be cock or hen ? the bold, bright
bird, so full of assurance, so free and easy in its manners,
that one sees everywhere, dodging about under the horses'
feet in the street ; hail-fellow-well-met with the pigs, the
sheep, and the cows in the farmyard ; feeding with the
pigeons and the fowls ; helping himself to the grain from
the stacks, and the seeds from the furrow, as coolly as if all
the farm produce belonged to him. A small, stout, active
fellow, getting up a squabble in the garden with his fellows
about the right of possession to some roosting, or nesting,
or feeding place, and making a most astounding hubbub ;
chirping away on the roof where he means to build his
nest, whether you like it or not. A strong, lively bird,
that seems to bid defiance to frost and snow, and to be
lively and cheerful under the most discouraging circum-
stances. Such is the Sparrow, the playmate of our child-
hood, the familiar friend of our maturer years. Who
among us is not ready to say with Thomas Miller —

I have a great love for those little dirty and noisy vagrants,
the Sparrows; who hide, and build, and breed under the smoky
eaves, and come out sometimes as black as soot. Wherever man
rears his house, they follow. They are always ready with their
* good morning ' as soon as it is light. They take possession above,
and the mice below: both are paupers that will have no 'nay.'
If man can contrive to live, they are resolved to live with him.
For ages they have been his constant companions. The Sparrow
hops down and breakfasts with the Fowls, without needing an
invitation. He takes possession of the corn-ricks and helps himself
bountifully. In summer he goes into the harvest-field, if it is near
at hand; nor is he very particular about waiting until the corn
is ripe before he commences his banquet. In vain does the farmer
set a price upon his head; he contrives to live, and die, and leave a
large family of Sparrows behind him, who know how to pick up a
living as well as he did. The Sparrows, like the Rooks, have their
mode of punishment, and when any culprit has committed himself,
they raise a clamour loud enough to alarm a whole neighbourhood.
It begins in a moment; they all set to at once; and when they
have had their say, they leave the offender to his own reflections.
They are hasty, but it is soon over with them ; nor do they ever
put their victim to death, but having beaten him, and told him

A WISE DISPENSATION. 213

their minds, they treat him as kindly as before. In one instance,
when the House Sparrow had undergone a long persecution, they
beat a retreat, and built their nests in some adjoining trees — a
proof that, when compelled by danger, they could change their
habits, and, like other birds, build among the branches, instead
of under the thatch or beneath the eaves.

Knapp's remarks upon the habits of this very common
and familiar bird are so evidently the result of close and
acute observation, that we are tempted to give them
entire : —

We have no bird, I believe, more generally known, thought of, or
mentioned with greater indifference, perhaps contempt, than the
common Sparrow, * that sitteth alone on the house-top;' yet it is an
animal that nature seems to have endowed with peculiar character-
istics, having ordained for it a very marked provision, manifested in
its increase and maintenance, notwithstanding the hostile attacks to
which it is exposed. A dispensation that exists throughout creation
is brought more immediately to our notice by the domestic habits of
this bird. The natural tendency that the Sparrow has to increase,
will often enable one pair of birds to bring up fourteen or more
young ones in the season. They build in places of perfect security
from the plunder of larger birds and vermin. Their art and
ingenuity in commonly attaching their nests beneath that of the
rook, high in the elm, a bird whose habits are perfectly dissimilar,
and with which they have no association whatever, making use of
their structure only for a defence to which no other bird resorts,
manifest their anxiety and contrivance for the safety of their
broods. With peculiar perseverance and boldness, they forage and
provide for themselves and their offspring; will filch grain from the
trough of the pig, or contend for its food with the gigantic turkey;
and, if scared away, their fears are those of a moment, as they
quickly return to their plunder; and they roost protected from all
the injuries of weather. These circumstances tend greatly to
increase the race, and in some instances their numbers in our corn-
fields towards autumn are prodigious; and did not events counteract
the increase of this army of plunderers, the larger portion of our
bread-corn would be consumed by them. But their reduction is as
rapidly accomplished as their increase, their love of association
bringing upon them a destruction which a contrary habit would not
tempt. They roost in troops in our ricks, in the ivy on the wall,
&c., and are captured by the net; they cluster on the bush, or
crowd on the chaff by the barn-door, and are shot by dozens at a
time : or will rush in numbers, one following another, into the trap.
These and various other engines of destruction so reduce them in the
winter season, that the swarms of autumn gradually diminish, till

214 NESTING PLACES.

their numbers in spring are in no way remarkable. I have called
them plunderers, and they are so; they are benefactors likewise,
seeming to be appointed by nature as one of the agents for keeping
from undue increase another race of creatures, and by their prolificacy
they accomplish it. In spring and the early part of the summer,
before the corn becomes ripe, they are insectivorous, and their con-
stantly increasing families require an increasing supply of food.
"We see them every minute of the day in continual progress, flying
from the nest for a supply, and returning on rapid wing with a grub,
a caterpillar, or some reptile ; and the numbers captured by them in
the course of these travels are incredibly numerous, keeping under
the increase of these races, and making ample restitution for their
plunderings and thefts. When the insect race becomes scarce, the
corn and seeds of various kinds are ready ; their appetite changes,
and they feed on these with undiminished enjoyment.

The nests of the Sparrows are generally found under the
eaves of tiled or thatched roofs, in holes or crevices of
walls, in old water pipes, or any orifices which may seem
convenient to them. Occasionally they build among the
higher branches of fruit-trees in a garden, and the nest in
that case is remarkable for its large size in proportion to
that of the bird. It is formed with a dome, and com-
posed chiefly of hay, and lined very thickly with feathers,
of which the bird, being very partial to warmth, generally
collects an abundance, even when the nest is well shel-
tered, as on the inner side of the thatch of a barn. Among
other curious places chosen by this bird for nesting,
may be mentioned the hollow of the lock attached to the
entrance gates of the Han well Lunatic Asylum. l The cir-
cumstance,1 says the narrator of this incident, t is the more
remarkable, from the continual locking and unlocking of
the gates by the porter of the institution, rarely less than
three hundred times in the course of the day, to say
nothing of the noise on each shutting and movement of the
bolt of the lock so closely contiguous to its nest. None of
these inconveniences have, however, appeared to disturb
the little intruder ; the work of incubation still went on,
and three young ones were the result ; the latter have
within the last few days taken wing. We may mention,
that for the last two years this lock has been a favourite
spot, nests having been made within it on previous occa-
sions; but owing to prying curiosity, they have been

FRIENDLY MINISTRATIONS. 215

forsaken by the parent birds, or the nests have7 been torn
out by some thoughtless or ruthless hand.'

The eggs of the Sparrow are white, spotted and streaked
with ash colour and dusky brown. The first batch usually
consists of five or six, and two other sets are frequently
produced in a season. The old birds manifest great attach-
ment for their young : the following incident well illustrates
this trait of their character. In a foot note in the first
volume of the t Zoological Journal,' it is stated that a pair
of Sparrows which had built in a thatch roof of a house at
Poole, were observed to continue their regular visits to the
nest long after the time when the young birds take flight.
This unusual circumstance continued throughout the year ;
and in the winter, a gentleman who had all along observed
them, determined on investigating its cause. He therefore
mounted a ladder, and found one of the young ones detained
a prisoner, by means of a piece of string or worsted, which
formed part of the nest, having become accidentally twisted
round the leg. Being thus incapacitated for procuring its
own sustenance, it had been fed by the continual exertions
of its parents. Of a somewhat similar character is the
incident recorded below, only that in this case the interest
is heightened by the circumstance that the ruling motive
could not have been love of offspring. During the time
that Glasgow Cathedral was undergoing repairs and reno-
vations, the workmen engaged had observed an unusual
concourse of Sparrows always coming regularly to a hole
in one of the slanting walls of the old Consistory Court,
which was being taken down, and holding a great ado,
* cheeping and chirping,' and apparently feeding some birds
within. For a brief space of time this was thought nothing
of, as it was known the young brood were just about flying ;
and it was imagined that it might be some of these, not so
strong as the others, whom the parents were feeding. The
meetings being continued, however, a gentleman in the
neighbourhood induced the men to get a ladder, and ex-
amine the cause of all those noisy doings; when it was
found that the female Sparrow, after all her brood had left
her, had got so warped about the leg with some of the
threads composing her nest, that it was impossible for

216 A LESSON OF HUMANITY.

her to escape, the leg being considerably swollen by the
attempts she had made to effect it. In the above dilemma,
how beautiful it is to perceive that she was constantly
condoled with, and her wants supplied by her fellow
Sparrows; Sparrows of humanity and generous feeling
they must have been. Let mankind take the lesson. It
is needless to say the poor bird was let away.

We have here the Sparrows teaching us lessons of
humanity, without which it was thought by a heathen
community a man was not worthy of a place in the govern-
ment of his country. Thus we read that in Athens, on a
certain occasion, the senate of the Areopagites being assem-
bled together on a mountain, without any roof but heaven,
the senators perceived a bird of prey, which pursued a little
Sparrow that came to save itself in the bosom of one of the
company. This man, who was naturally harsh, threw it
from him so roughly that he killed it ; whereat the court
was offended, and a decree was made, by which he was
condemned and banished from the senate : here the
judicious may observe, that this company, which was at
that time one of the gravest in the world, did it not for
the care they had to make a law concerning Sparrows, but
it was to show that clemency and a merciful inclination
were necessary in a state : that a man destitute of them was
not worthy to hold any place in the government, he having
as it were renounced humanity.

And these birds also teach us, as do all birds, lessons of
dependence on the fatherly care of God. We remember
the words of the Divine Preacher : * Are not two Sparrows
sold for a farthing ? and yet one of them shall not fall to
the ground without your Father .... ye are of more
value than many Sparrows.' Yes, indeed, the birds of the
air teach us many great lessons, but the one of which
we are now writing seems to have been especially chosen
to symbolise or define Divine truths. Socinus, in his
* History of the Anglo-Saxon Church,' cites an example of
this, when he tells us that a certain British chief, in refer-
ence to the new doctrine of Christianity, set forth in a
solemn assembly held for its consideration, said, * The life
of man, 0 king, reminds me of a winter feast, around your

UNDER FALSE COLOURS. 217

blazing fire. While the storm howls, or the snow drives
abroad, a distressed Sparrow darts within the doorway.
For a moment it enjoys the cheering warmth and shelter
from the blast ; then shooting through the other entrance,
it is lost again. Such is man. He comes, we know not
whence, hastily snatches a scanty share of worldly pleasure,
and then goes we know not whither. If this new doctrine,
therefore, will give us any clearer insight into things that
so much concern us, my feeling is to follow it.'

Bishop Hall, for a wonder, has not introduced the Sparrow
into his choice moralities ; but the German fabulist Lessing
has made use of it to convey a great piece of satire. An
old church, which had afforded nests for innumerable
Sparrows, was at length repaired. When it now stood
forth in its restored splendour, the Sparrows came back in
search of their old dwellings, but they found them all
walled up. i Of what use now,' they cried, ' is this great
building? Come on; let us forsake this useless stone
heap.'

This bird, it would seem, is sometimes made to per-
sonate a more beautiful bird and better songster than
itself; for a newspaper paragraph tells us, l it may not be
generally known that a species of fraud is carried on to a
great extent by a set of fellows selling Sparrows about
the metropolis, dexterously painted, so as to make them
resemble Bullfinches, for which they ask the moderate price
of a crown a piece. An old gentleman of the name of
Cross, who resides in Bishopsgate Street, was lately cheated
in this manner, by giving 10s. for a pair of these handsome
birds.'

We are reminded by this of an account given in the
' Spectator' of the Sparrows which were purchased for the
opera, ' to act the parts of singing-birds in a delightful
grove.' They were turned loose on the stage, and the
music which was supposed to issue from their bills * pro-
ceeded from a concert of flageolets and bird-calls, which
were placed behind the scenes.' We are not, however,
to suppose that hopping Dick, the familiar chirper, never
does sing sweetly. Listen to William Kidd on this head.
' Some will doubtless smile when I tell them that House

218 UNJUSTLY PUNISHED.

Sparrows are, when properly taught, admirable Song-birds !
Taken when callow from the nest, and brought up under a
Canary in fine voice, they not only equal, but even surpass
their masters in brilliancy of execution. I am well versed
in these matters, having made them the subject of study
for years. I number the Sparrows among my good friends.'

By agriculturists Sparrows are generally held in detes-
tation, and killed without mercy. Sparrow-clubs, for the
promotion of their destruction, exist in all the rural districts
of our land. To give some idea of the number of these
birds destroyed, we may quote a few lines from a local
paper of 1855. * At the anniversary dinner of the Spar-
row club, at Cricklade, Wilts, on Saturday, two members,
Messrs. Plummer and Forris, produced 5,812 Sparrows.
Mr. Plummer (who had killed 3,696 of these) received
10s., and Mr. Forris, 5s.'

The following from a French paper seems to argue the
case between Passer and his persecutors very fairly: —
* The Perseverant of Limoges contains a curious calculation
of the damage to farmers in France which is annually
caused by Sparrows. It estimates the consumption of corn
of each Sparrow at one gallon ; and, reckoning that there
are ten millions of these birds in France, makes the total
loss of more than nine millions of francs ; but on the other
hand, it is supposed that the insects which they destroy
would occasion a much greater loss if these birds were not
in existence. As a proof of this, it is mentioned that in
the Palatinate the government had ordered all the Sparrows
to be killed, offering a premium upon their heads; but
the ravages caused by insects when the Sparrows had dis-
appeared were so great, that premiums were offered for the
reintroduction of the birds.'

Experience has shown in France that legislative enact-
ments are absolutely necessary for the preservation of the
birds, so recklessly accused of plunder, so ruthlessly and
improvidently destroyed. It is clear enough that the bird
can live without man, but that man can live without
the bird is not equally certain. A Titmouse in one year
consumes more than two hundred thousand microscopic
eggs and larvse, and surely grateful man might render

THE BIRDS' PETITION. 219

some better treatment to his feathered benefactors than
snares and fowling-pieces can afford. In an amusing
article, entitled the l Birds' Petition,' the grievance of the
winged sufferers is duly set forth to the Senate of France ;
aye, and if they will but open their ears to listen, to
English farmers also : —

"We beg to inform you, Messieurs les Senateurs, that there exist
in France several thousand species of insects, all endowed with
frightful fecundity, and almost all living exclusively at the expense
of valuable vegetable productions. The sturdy oak, the ornamental
elm, the fir, the pine, the precious olive, and the still more precious
vine, languish — when they do not die outright — from the attacks
of hosts whose legions are marshalled under standards inscribed
LUCANUS, CERAMBYX, SCOTYLUS, SCARAB^EUS, PHIJEOTEIBUS, DACUS,
PYRALUS, PHALJENA, and other barbaric mottoes, which the most
voluble Starling amongst us cannot pronounce.

Wheat and other corn plants are ravaged at the root by the grub
of the cockchafer ; in the bud, by the cecidomyx ; in the grain, by
the weevil. Cruciferous plants, such as colza and turnips, are
destroyed as soon as they are out of the ground, by one set of
parasites, while other insect foes await the formation of the pod to
take up their lodging in it, and feed on its contents. Peas, beans,
and lentils are like the candle which an unthrifty housekeeper burns
at both ends : at top their fruit is cleaned out by grubs, at bottom
the vital sap is intercepted by underground and burrowing insects.
Your petitioners do not go so far as to say that, in every field, the
insects eat everything ; but, after the insects have taken their tithe,
the farmer has still a further tithe to pay to mice, rats, and the
innumerable small extortioners who, after a joyous summer in the
field, take up their winter quarters in the barn.

The loss occasioned to the wheat, in one single year, in one
department of the east of France, by one sole species of larvae, is
estimated at one hundred and sixty thousand pounds, at the very
least. To this insect are attributed the scanty harvests of the three
years which preceded 1856. In certain fields, the loss amounted to
nearly half the crop. Out of twenty pods of colza, taken at hazard,
and containing five hundred and four seeds, only two hundred and
ninety-six seeds were good : the rest were consumed or damaged by
insects. A crop of colza which produced only one hundred and
eighty pounds' worth of oil, ought to have given two hundred and
eighty-eight pounds' worth, and would have done so, if your peti-
tioners had been allowed fair play. In Germany, the nun moth
(Phal&na monacha) has caused whole forests to perish. Three
years ago, in Eastern Prussia, more than twenty-four millions of
cubic metres of fir- wood were obliged to be felled, solely because the
trees were dying from the attacks of insects.

220 FAVOURABLE EVIDENCE.

Considerable as are these losses, you will be surprised, Messieurs
les Senateurs, that they are not greater, when you consider the por-
tentous fecundity with which these adversaries are endowed ; and if
Divine Providence had not raised up, in us your petitioners, a pre-
ventive check worthy of His wisdom, long ago would all vegetation
have disappeared from the surface of the earth. Man, in fact, is
powerless to combat with enemies like these. His genius is able to
measure the course of the stars, to perforate mountains, to make a
ship pursue her way in the teeth of the tempest ; the beasts of the
forest retreat before his advancing steps ; but, in the presence of
the myriads of insects who fall upon his cultivated fields and render
all his labours vain, his strength is only weakness. His eye is too
feeble to catch sight of more than a few of them ; his hand is too
sluggish to strike them; and besides, could he crush them by
millions, they would be reproduced by billions. From above, from
below, from the east, from the west, their countless legions succeed
each other, in relays which know neither repose nor armistice. In
this indestructible army, which marches to the conquest of human
labour, each regiment has its allotted month, its day, its season,
its plant, its tree. Each knows its own post in the fray, and never
errs in taking it. Man must have succumbed in this unequal
struggle, had not Providence given him in us — the Birds — power-
ful auxiliaries, faithful allies, who marvellously well perform the
task that man is incompetent to accomplish. Yes, Messieurs les
Senateurs, we, your petitioners, are in reality your patrons and pro-
tectors.

For the sake of retrieving our characters, we have submitted to
post-mortem examination: our stomachs have been searched, and
medical men will certify, not only in what proportion we feed on
insects, but what particular species we search out and destroy, and,
consequently, what plants we preserve from their enemies.

The three hundred and thirty species of birds who breed in
France may be divided into three principal classes. In the first,
your petitioners will place all birds who are injurious, at least, in-
directly so, inasmuch as they destroy many of us, the insectivorous
birds. It includes the diurnal birds of prey, the Eagles and Hawks,
and also the omnivorous birds, the Crows, Magpies, and Jays. But
here justice compels us to make an honourable exception in favour
of the common and the rough-legged Buzzards, each individual of
whom consumes about six thousand mice per annum. Complete
absolution must be granted to the Rook, for his assistance in the
destruction of cockchafer grubs.

In the second class, your petitioners range what are called gran-
ivorous birds, but who, in reality, are birds of double alimentation ;
for, with the exception of the Pigeon, there is no bird which is
purely granivorous ; they all feed, either at the same time, or accord-
ing to the season, both on seeds and insects. Noxious in the first
case, useful in the second, there is a balance to be struck between

SOCIALITY OF SPARROWS. 221

the service they render and the evil they do. Such are Sparrows
and other hard-billed birds. Frederick the Great declared war
against Sparrows, because they were just as fond as His Majesty of
cherries. Of course they beat a retreat and disappeared. But in
two years, not only no cherries were to be had, but scarcely any
other fruit ; the caterpillars took the lion's share. The mighty king
was glad to sign a treaty of peace with the birds, in which they
stipulated for a moderate share of the blackhearts and the white-
hearts in the royal gardens.

But if Sparrows, Rooks, and others of their kind exact payment
for their services, the third class, much more numerous, give their
aid gratuitously. Such are the nocturnal birds of prey, whom igno-
rance pursues as 4of evil omen.' Better than cats, they neither
steal the milk nor lick the cream ; they are the terror of all sorts of
rats and field-mice, not to mention the multitude of night-flying
insects they destroy.

The Hedge Sparrow devours per day some five hundred and fifty
insects, amongst which figure the kinds the most redoubtable to
man. Now, of the harm done by one of these insects you may
form, Messieurs les Senateurs, some idea, if you recollect that the
cockchafer lays from seventy to a hundred eggs, soon to be trans-
formed into so many worms, which for three or four years live
exclusively on the roots of your most precious plants. The weevil
lays about the same number of eggs, each of which destroys a kernel
of wheat; one weevil may, therefore, be assumed to cause the
destruction of an ear of wheat alone. The pyralus deposits about a
hundred and twenty eggs in about as many blossom buds of the
vine. From each egg so deposited ensues the loss of a bunch of
grapes.

And now, Messieurs, be pleased to deign to put these two sets of
figures together. Admitting that, out of the five hundred insects
destroyed in a day by one bird, the tenth only are noxious creatures
— say forty weevils and ten pyraluses (which is below the truth) —
you have an average of more than three thousand kernels of wheat
and eleven hundred bunches of grapes saved in one day by one
little bird.

M'Gillivray observes that the social propensity is more
apparent in the Sparrow than in any other British species
of its family; for even during the breeding season it is
seen searching for food in small groups, and in autumn
and winter it is decidedly gregarious, although irregularly
so, for the individuals of a flock do not seem to consort
with each other exclusively, and betake themselves to the
same roosting places. The flocks, on the contrary, are
accidentally formed by individuals casually meeting with

222 FAMILIARITY WITH MAN.

each other, and are liable to be broken up by slight causes.
Its usual places of resort are those in the immediate
vicinity of human habitations ; and at night it reposes
under the eaves of houses, about chimneys, in holes and
crevices of buildings, and among ivy covering walls.
During a great part of the year it subsists chiefly on the
fragments of ejected food which it finds about the doors,
on the streets, or on dung-hills. But it also feeds upon
grain, which it obtains abundantly during several weeks
in autumn on the standing corn, and less profusely in
winter, when it searches the stubble fields.

Of all the feathered race, there is perhaps not one which
attends so closely and constantly upon man as this bird,
which is, we believe, seldom or ever found far from a
human habitation ; in the streets of busy cities, as well as
on the thatched roof of the quiet village, the members of
its chirping family are found ' picking up the unconsidered
trifles,' close beside the feet of passers by. The London
Sparrows are proverbial for their boldness, of which many
anecdotes might be related. The Sparrow, too, is a classic
bird, immortalised by the Latin poet, Catullus, who touch-
ingly laments the death of Lesbia's Sparrow. The German
poet Burger welcomes this bird to his hall ; and our old
dramatist, Lily, gives to the mother of Cupid a team of
Sparrows instead of Doves, which are generally said to be
her chosen birds.

Bishop Mant, who loses no opportunity of pointing a
moral, thus alludes to the noisy conclave which Sparrows
sometimes hold, as if they were disputing about right of
precedence, or some equally important matter : —

But hark ! what hurtling noise is there ?
What sound of rushing through the air ?
Close lurking in the laurel boughs,
My steps a host of Sparrows rouse ;
Up from their couch at once they spring,
And brush, brush, brush, with rustling wing,
Wheel off to yonder leafless trees ;
There sit they, thick as clustering bees ;
Till, past the terror, back they crowd,
And with tumultuous clamour loud,

THE TREE SPARROW.

From twig to twig aspiring hop,
And struggle for the loftiest top.
What you, ye little birds of air,
Do you for rank and station care ?
What boots it, safe from nightly foe,
Which roosts above, and which below ?
Forbear the ambitious strife for place,
And leave it to our wiser race.

223

TREE SPARROW.

THE TREE SPARROW (Passer montanus), sometimes called
the Mountain Sparrow. This species bears a great resem-
blance to the common Sparrow, than which it is less in
size, being about five inches and two thirds long. The
upper part of the head is chestnut red, as is also the back,
where, however, it is mixed with black ; the latter colour
prevails on a band over the eye, the feathers about the
ears, and the throat ; the sides of the neck and collar on
the nape are white, of which there are two bands across
the wings ; the under parts are whitish.

Although common on every part of the Continent, from
Spain and Italy to the Arctic Circle, this bird is rare in
Britain, in the southern parts of which only has it been yet
found. Montagu and Selby appear to have been the only
English naturalists who have observed its habits, and they
give a very brief account of them. The bird, they say,
never frequents villages or towns, but is met with about
old trees, in the holes of which it forms its nest, which is

224

THE CHAFFINCH.

made of the same materials as those commonly used by the
HOUSQ Sparrow, chiefly hay and feathers, and contains four
or five eggs, similar in colour to those of that bird, but
smaller. It is active and lively, feeds on seeds and grain,
together with insects and buds ; has a note similar to that
of its cousin, but shriller. Mr. Blyth says that ' its song
consists of a number of shrill chirps, intermixed with some
pleasing notes, delivered in a continuous unbroken strain,
sometimes for many minutes together very loudly, but
having a characteristic Sparrow-like tone throughout.'

CHAFFINCH.

THE CHAFFINCH (Fnngilla coelebs\ variously known as
the Beech or Stone Finch, Pink, Spink, Twink, Shelly,
Shell-apple, Shilfa, Chaffy. One of the most beautiful
and familiar birds this, of the Passerine family, presenting
all the characteristics of the true Finch, and therefore
placed in the genus Fringilla. It is about six inches and
a quarter long, and has a sufficiently variegated plumage
to make its appearance very striking. The upper part of
the head and neck are greyish blue, the fore part of the
neck and breast purplish red ; the back is reddish brown,
and the rump yellowish green ; there is a black band across
the forehead, and the feathers of the larger wing coverts
are edged with white.

A MARINE BUILDER. 225

' The male Chaffinch,' says Yarrell, * is one of the most handsome
of our common small birds, and in his general deportment is as
lively as he is handsome. Thus distinguished by bright colours and
active habits, and being besides very numerous as a species, and
confident in behaviour, allowing the near approach of observers
without exhibiting much alarm, the Chaffinch is extremely well
known ; and as his gay appearance and song, frequently noticed as
early as February, points him out as one of the first of our indige-
nous birds to afford an indication of returning spring, he is for these
various reasons a general favourite. With our continental neighbours
the Chaffinch is one of the most common cage birds ; and in France
from the lively colours and demeanour of this bird the term " gay as
a Chaffinch," is a proverbial phrase in frequent use.

' The Finches, generally, are remarkable for the neatness and
beauty of the nests they construct, and the Chaffinch is no exception
to the rule. The outside of their ne^t is composed of moss, studded
with white or green lichens, as may best accord with the situation
in which it is built ; the inside is lined with wool, and this is again
covered with hair and some feathers. The eggs are usually four or
five in number, of a pale purplish buff, sparingly streaked and
spotted with dark reddish brown. The place chosen is variable ;
sometimes it is fixed in the fork of a bush in a hedge-row, on a
branch of a wall-fruit tree, frequently in an apple or pear tree several
feet above the ground. A correspondent in the "Field Naturalist's
Magazine," relates that a pair of Chaffinches built in a shrub so near
his sitting-room window as to allow him to be a close observer of
their operations. The foundation of their nest was laid on the 12th
of April : the female only worked at the nest-making, and by
unwearied diligence, the beautiful structure was finished in three
weeks ; the first egg was deposited on the 2nd of May, four others
were subsequently added, and the whole five were hatched on the
15th. During the time of incubation, neither curiosity nor constant
observation from the opened window disturbed the parent bird ; she
sat most patiently ; the male bird often visited his partner, but it
was not discovered whether he ever brought her food.'

During the progress of the new harbour works at Aber-
deen, a Chaffinch's nest was built in the cofferdam, and
the birds were so tame that they came and fed with the
workmen.

A singular instance is also recorded of one of these birds
having built its nest in the block of a mast of a small
vessel lying at Greenock ; the vessel put to sea with the
mother bird sitting upon the eggs, and her partner, who
was ashore at the time, flew across the intervening water;

P

226 WATERTON'S FAVOURITE.

and as Cowper, who has written some lines on the incident,
relates : —

Then perching at his consort's side,

Was briskly borne along ;
The billows and the blast defied,

And cheered her with a song.

With Waterton the Chaffinch is a prime favourite ; and
he has given such a graphic picture of its habits, that we
are tempted to quote a considerable portion of it : —

Amongst all the pretty warblers which flirt from bush to bush
before me, as I wander through the flowery fields, next to poor Cock
Robin, the Chaffinch is my favourite bird. I see him almost at
every step. He is in the fruit and forest trees, and in the lowly
hawthorn ; he is on the house-top, and on the ground close to your
feet. You may observe him on the stack-bar, and on the dung-hill,
on the king's highway, in the fallow-field, in the meadow, in the
pasture, and by the margin of the stream.

If his little pilferings on the beds of early radishes alarm you for the
return of the kitchen garden, think, I pray you, how many thousands
of seeds he consumes, which otherwise would be carried by the
wind into your choicest quarters of cultivation, and would spring up
there most sadly to your cost. Think again of his continual service
at your barn-door, where he lives throughout the winter, chiefly on
the unprofitable seeds, which would cause you endless trouble were
they allowed to lie in the straw, and to be carried out with it into
the land on the approach of spring.

His nest is a paragon of perfection. He attaches lichen to the
outside of it by means of the spider's slender web. In the year
1805, when I was on a plantation in Guiana, I saw the Humming
Bird making use of the spider's web in its nidification, and then
the thought struck me that our Chaffinch might probably make use
of it too. On my return to Europe, I watched a Chaffinch busy at
its nest; it left it, and flew to an old wall, took a cobweb from it,
then conveyed it to its nest, and interwove it with the lichen on
the outside of it. Four or five eggs are the usual number which
the Chaffinch's nest contains, and sometimes only three. The thorn,
and most of the evergreen shrubs, the sprouts on the boles of forest
trees, the woodbine, the whin, the wild rose, and occasionally the
bramble, are this bird's favourite places of nidification. Like all
its congeners it never covers its eggs on retiring from the nest, for
its young are hatched blind.

There is something peculiarly pleasing to me in the song of this
bird. Perhaps association of ideas may add a trifle to the value of
its melody, for when I hear the first note of the Chaffinch, I know

A LAMENT FOR THE PRISONER. 227

that winter is on the eve of departure, and that sunshine and
fine weather are not far off. His first song tells me, that in a day
or two more we shall hear the cooing of the Ringdove, and see it rise
and fall in the air as it flies from grove to grove, and that this pretty
Pigeon, so shy and wary during the winter, will, in a day or two
more, allow me to approach within ten paces of it, as it feeds on the
new springing verdure of the lawn.

The Chaffinch never sings when on the wing, but it warbles
incessantly on the trees and on the hedge-rows, from the early part
of February to the second week in July, and then (if the bird be in
a state of freedom) its song entirely ceases. You may hear the
Thrush, the Lark, the Robin, and the Wren, sing from time to time
in the dreary months of winter ; but you will never, by any chance,
have one single note of melody from the Chaffinch. Its powers of
song have sunk into a deep and long lasting trance, not to be roused
by any casualty whatever. All that remains of its voice, lately so
sweet and so exhilarating, is the shrill and well-known monotonous
call, which becomes remarkably distinct and frequent whenever the
cat, the owl, the weasel, or the fox, are seen to be on the move.

We are told that in the winter season the female Chaffinches
separate from the males, and migrate into distant countries. I have
not been able to ascertain that so ungallant a divorce takes place in
this part of the country. The Chaffinches assemble here with their
congeners during the period of frost and snow, and you may count
amongst them as many females as males.

Sad and mournful is the fate which awaits this harmless songster
in Belgium and in Holland, and in other kingdoms of the Continent.
In your visit to the towns in these countries, you see it outside the
window, a lonely prisoner in a wooden cage, which is scarcely large
enough to allow it to turn round upon its perch. It no longer enjoys
the light of day. Its eyes have been seared with a red-hot iron, in
order to increase its powers of song, which, unfortunately for the
cause of humanity, are supposed to be heightened and prolonged
far beyond their ordinary duration by this barbarous process.

Poor Chaffinches, poor choristers, poor little sufferers ! My heart
aches as I pass along the streets and listen to your plaintive notes.
At all hours of the day we i^ay hear these hapless captives singing
(as far as we can judge) in apparent ecstasy. I would fain hope
that these prisoners, so woe-btgone, and so steeped in sorrow, to the
eye of him who knows their sad story, may have no recollection of
those days when they poured forth their wild notes in the woods free
as air, the happiest of the happy ! Did they remember the hour
when the hand of man so cruelly deprived them both of liberty and
eyesight, we should say that they would pine in anguish, and sink
down at last, a certain prey to grief and melancholy. At Aix-la-
Chapelle may be seen a dozen or fourteen of these blind songsters
hung out in cages at a public-house, not far from the cathedral.
They sing incessantly, for months after those at liberty have ceased

228 THE SHILFA AT HIS BATH.

to warble ; and they seem to vie with each other which can carol in
the loudest strain. There is something in song so closely connected
with the overflowings of a joyous heart, that when we hear it we
immediately fancy we can see both mirth and pleasure joining in the
party. Would, indeed, that both of these were the constant atten-
dants on this much-to-be-pitied group of captive choristers. How
the song of birds is involved in mystery ! mystery probably never to
be explained. Whilst sauntering up and down the Continent in the
blooming month of May, we hear the frequent warbling of the Chaf-
finch ; and then we fancy that he is singing solely to beguile the
incubation of his female, sitting on her nest in a bush close at hand.
But on returning to the town we notice another little Chaffinch, often
in some wretched alley, a prisoner with the loss of both its eyes,
and singing nevertheless as though its little throat would burst.
Does this blind captive pour forth its melody to soothe its sorrows ?
Has Omnipotence kindly endowed the Chaffinch with vocal faculties
which at one time may be employed to support it in distress, and at
another to add to its social enjoyments ? What answer shall we
make ? We know not what to say. But be it as it will, I would not
put out the eyes of the poor Chaffinch, though by doing so I might
render its melody ten times sweeter than that of the sweet Nightingale
itself. Oh, that the potentate in whose dominions this little bird is
doomed to such a cruel fate, would pass an edict to forbid the perpe-
tration of the barbarous deed ! Then would I exclaim, * 0 king of
men ! thy act is worthy of a royal heart, that kind Being who is a
friend to the fatherless shall recompense thee for this.'

Twink, Shelly, Shell-apple, Chaffy, Boldie, and Beech-
finch, are the current names by which this bird is known in
different localities. In Scotland they call it the Shilfa, and
it is under that name that Grahame alludes to it —

At such a still and sultry hour as this,

When not a strain is heard through all the woods,

I 've seen the SHILFA light from off his perch,

And hop into a shallow of the stream,

Then, half afraid, flit to the shore, then in

Again alight, and dip his rosy breast

And fluttering wings, while dewlike globules coursed

The plumage of his brown-impurpled back.

The barefoot boy, who, on some slaty stone,

Almost too hot for touch, has watching stood,

Now thinks the well-drenched prize his own,

And rushes forward ; — quick, though wet, the wing

Gains the first branches of some neighbouring tree,

And baulks the upward gazing hopeless eye.

The ruffling plumes are shook, the pens are trimmed,

And full and clear the sprightly ditty rings.

THE MOUNTAIN FINCH.

229

Cheering the brooding dam : she sits concealed
Within the nest deep-hollowed, well disguised
With lichens grey, and mosses gradual blent,
As if it were a knurle in the bough.

To this we may append a sonnet expressive of our own
ideas of this beautiful and agreeable bird : —

List, to the merry Shilfa ! In the air,

It sweetly trills a morning song of praise,
And flits from bough to bough, now here, now there,

Nor long in any spot or posture stays ;

A lovely bird, that in the early days
When only fitful gleams of sunshine break

Athwart the leaden gloom and misty haze
That veil the infant year, will frequent make
The leafless woods re-echo to its call,

Trecf, treef — a low sweet note, and then a shrill
And sharp fink, fink, upon the ear doth fall,

Like speech expressiv e of a sentient will :
As brisk, as merry, and as loved a bird,
As any in the fields and woodlands heard.

MOUNTAIN FINCH.

THE MOUNTAIN FINCH (Fringilla montifringilla). — Some-
times called the Bramble Finch, or Brambling. This is
the only other British representative of the genus Fringilla;
it is about the same size as the Chaffinch, which it also

230 THE HAWFINCH.

resembles in form, but not in the colours of its plumage,
the head and back being a deep black, some of the feathers
margined with yellowish grey ; the rump white, tinged with
yellow ; the foreneck and breast light reddish brown ; the
sides spotted with black. In its flight, mode of walking,
and other manners, this bird is so like the Chaffinch, with
which, especially in the winter, it generally consorts, that
whether on trees or on the ground, the two species can
scarcely be distinguished from each other. This has a
rapid and undulating flight, and its wild note is tweet —
very similar to that of its congener. The Brambling is
generally distributed over this country during winter ; but
it leaves in the spring for the north, and is not known to
breed here, although now and then an occasional straggler
has been seen through the summer. Bewick says they
have appeared on the Cumberland hills as early as August,
but usually they are much later. They are said to do
good service to the land, by devouring the seeds of the
knot-grass. In severe weather they sometimes feed upon
mast; hence the name Beechfinch, sometimes applied to
them. In reference to the numbers which sometimes fly
together, Pennant says that he once had eighteen sent him
from Kent, which were all killed at one shot.

THE HAWFINCH (Cocothraustes atrogularis), sometimes
called the Common or Black-throated Grosbeak.

With this bird we enter upon another genus of the
Passerine family, called Cocothraustes, or Grosbeak ; all the
species, of which there are but few, belonging to this
genus, are remarkable for the thickness of their conical
bills, the lower mandible of which is extremely strong,
enabling them to crack the hardest kernel as easily as
shell a grain of hempseed. The one above named is the
only bird of its genus which appears in this country. It is
also the largest of native passerine birds, being over seven
inches in length. It is by no means elegantly formed, the
body being stout, and the head and neck dispropor-
tionately large ; yet the beauty of its plumage renders it
very attractive. The head and neck are yellowish brown ;
the throat and space about the eyes black ; the forepart of

A RESIDENT BIRD.

231

the back and shoulders are dark chestnut ; the hind-part
light brownish grey, gradually changing to the same colour
as the head ; the upper wing coverts are blackish brown
tipped with white ; the lower parts are yellowish brown,
with white linings to the tail coverts ; feet and bill, flesh
colour. The plumage and air of the bird altogether indi-
cate that it is one of soft unobtrusive manners and mild
skies; unfitted to contend with stormy weather and bleak
exposed places.

HAWFINCH.

Although the Hawfinch is described in most books as a
winter visitant, yet recent and careful observation has esta-
blished the fact that it is a resident bird, and the idea of
its being only partially so has doubtless arisen from its
extreme shyness. The nest has been met with in Epping
Forest, at Windsor, and in some other places, but always
closely concealed in the woodland depths, to which the
bird retires about April. The situation of the nest is
generally among the close foliage of a bush or tree, five or
six feet from the ground, though sometimes in the thick
top of a pine or evergreen. It is a shallow fabric, formed
of sticks and lichens, and lined with fibres of roots. The
eggs are from four to six in number, and of a greenish
white, mottled with grey and brown, the prevailing colours
of the bird itself, whose note, when it does sing, which is

232 LOVE OF RETIREMENT.

seldom, is soft and inward, something like that of the Bull-
finch.

Mr. Doubleday, who has closely observed the habits of
the bird near Epping Forest, states that —

Their principal food appears to be the seed of the hornberry, which
is the prevailing species of tree in the forest ; but they also feed on
the kernels of the haws, plum-stones, laurel berries, &c., and in sum-
mer make great havoc amongst green peas in gardens. About the
middle of April they pair, and in a week or two commence nidifica-
tion. The young are hatched about the third week in May, and as
soon as they are able to provide for themselves they unite with the
old birds, in flocks varying in numbers from fifteen or twenty to one
or even two hundred individuals. In this manner they remain
through the winter, feeding on the hornberry seeds which have fallen
to the ground, and only separate at the approach of the breeding
season. I believe the male has no song worth notice. In warm days
in March I have heard them, when a number have been sitting to-
gether in a tree, uttering a few notes in a soft tone, bearing some
resemblance to those of the Bullfinch.

Oh, gentle Finch ! that lovest in retired spots to dwell

And singest, with an inward voice, thy sweet songs morn and eve
Thou'rt like a cloistered eremite, or nun within her cell,

That never, for the busy world, that solitude would leave —
Whose life is quiet as a stream, that glideth soft along,

And murmurs to the leafy boughs that shield it from the sun,
And to the lovely flowers, that bloom its verdant banks among,

Of peace, and praise, and thankfulness, until its race be run.

The stillness of the leafy wood — the silence and the calm

Prevailing in the solitude, are pleasant unto thee ;
Thou cherishest no evil thought, thou dreamest not of harm,

And therefore is thy bosom from all cares and sorrows free ;
The same boughs rustle over thee, the same stream glideth by,

With silver voice, that to thy song responses uttereth, —
And where thine eyes first opened, to that patch of azure sky,

That looketh like an angel-face, thou closest them in death.

* Man hath a weary pilgrimage/ the poet well hath said,

He may not lead like thee, sweet bird, a peaceful happy life ;
In whatsoever path the Lord may choose, his feet must tread,

And this, alas ! too oft is one of trouble and of strife ;
Yet should he not repine thereat, nor envy thee thy lot,

Hereafter his reward will come ; thou diest, and for aye,
For him there is a future life, where sorrow cometh not,

If here he strives to walk aright, and do as best he may.

233

BULLFINCH.

CHAPTER XVI.

FINCHES. BULLFINCH, GOLDFINCH, SISKIN.

FT1HE BULLFINCH (Pyrrhula pileatci), variously called
JL Alp, Nope, Pope, Tony or Red Hoop, Coal Hood. In
this species we have a very common representative of the
genus Pyrrhula, a short, stout-necked, rather clumsily-
made bird, not so agile and lively as the Finches gene-
rally, not so elegant in form, nor so graceful in its motions,
and yet very much admired on account of the richness and
beauty of its plumage, and its good vocal powers. Mudie
says that it is l in shape the most compact and neat, and
expressive of energy and strength of all our little birds.
The outline of its head and bill is as fine as that of the
most handsome of the Hawks ; but the bright black eye
has a good deal of the prying expression of that of the
Magpie. The bill is, with the exception of that of the
Eagles and Hawks, made stronger in proportion than the
bill of any other British bird. The attitudes and motions
of the bird, while picking buds or berries, are also very
elegant ; and it has a great command of itself on the perch.'
And Wood furnishes us with this characteristic sketch, evi-
dently the result of close personal observation : —

The manners of this species are not remarkably brisk and lively,
nor even varied, but they are social and pleasing, and nothing can

234 BULLY IN FULL DRESS.

be more delightful than to follow them in their native haunts, and
there become acquainted with their peculiar habits. In the distance,
the sound of the mule's voice is soft and mellow; that of the female
greatly resembles it, though they are readily distinguished by a
practised ear. Whilst uttering this, a smart twitch of the tail may
be observed, and when the female is on the nest, her mate frequently
sits for hours together on a neighbouring branch, sounding his plain-
tive note, or amusing her with his curious whining song. Unless
you see him singing, you miss the best part of the performance.
But it is at all times difficult either to see or hear him — though I
have achieved both — and therefore you must be satisfied with what
you can get. While singing, it puffs out its plumage, and makes
strange contortions with its head. I have frequently watched this
interesting manoeuvre ; but no sooner does the bird find himself ob-
served, than he shrinks to his ordinary size, alarms his mate, and
with her flies to a distant tree, where they remain out of sight, but
within hearing, waiting the event, and sounding their mellow note.

We scarcely imagine that any of our readers are un-
acquainted with the personal appearance of Master Bully
in full dress : yet, lest there be any who are so, we may
as well describe it. The head and part of the throat are
of a rich velvety black ; the upper parts of the body deep
grey ; the wings and tail black varied with iron blue ; the
under parts of the body of a fine vermilion, passing into
white towards the tail. The effect of the whole is most
rich and harmonious.

In young birds the vermilion tinge is less vivid than in
those of mature age, and in the females its place is supplied
by a reddish grey.

Although a very common bird, being generally distri-
buted throughout Britain, and a permanent resident, the
Bullfinch is rarely seen or heard during the greater part of
the year, as it seldom leaves the thick covert of the woods
unless obliged to do so. Its natural home is in the woods,
groves, and copses, where it builds its nest rather late in
the season, seldom commencing it until the latter end of
April, or the beginning of May. The structure is composed
of dry twigs somewhat loosely put together, with a lining of
fibrous roots, and placed on a bush at no great height from
the ground ; frequently the nesting-place is a hawthorn, or
the horizontal branch of a spruce-fir. Sometimes an orchard
is the chosen, spot, as Bishop Mant describes it : —

THE GARDENER'S FRIEND, OR FOE? 235

Deep in the thorn's entangled maze,
Or where the fruit-tree's thick'ning sprays
Yield a secure and close retreat,
The dusky Bullfinch plans her seat :
There, where you see the clustered boughs
Put forth the opening bud, her spouse
With mantle grey, and jet-like head,
And naming breast of crimson red,
Is perched, with hard and hawk-like beak,
Intent the embryo fruit to seek.
Nor ceases from his pleasing toil,
The orchard's budding hope to spoil,
Unless with quick and timid glance
Of his dark eye, your dread advance
He notice, and your search evade,
Hid in the thicket's pathless shade.

The gardeners in this country call the plunderer above
described l Pick-a-bud,' and woe be to Master Bully if he
comes within gunshot when they have the means of de-
struction at hand. He is, in truth, a sad depredator,
although not, as Knapp says, without any redeeming vir-
tues to compensate us for the havoc which he commits on
our cherry and other fruit-trees. Neville Wood, who
adopts a name by which the bird is popularly known, thus
enters on its defence against the sweeping charge to which
it is generally considered obnoxious : —

It is disputed by ornithologists, whether or not the Hedge Coal-
hood is pernicious to the interests of the gardener, by destroying the
buds of the fruit trees. In the 'Ornithologist's Text-book, ' p. 61, I
have expressed an opinion in favour of our lovely songster, and sub-
sequent researches have only served to confirm that opinion. That
the birds do devour a tolerably large portion of the buds of our fruit
trees, there can be no doubt ; but then it is most probable that only
those buds which are infested with insects are attacked, and if so, its
services in the gardens must be incalculable. In confinement it will
eat any buds, but in its wild state, it will be observed that the vege-
table portion is rejected, and the enclosed insect or grub is the
desired object of their search. That such is the case, I have ascer-
tained almost to a certainty, from finding that some trees are passed
over without the slightest injury, while others are not quitted as long
as a bud remains ; and others again undergo a selection. I have re-
peatedly observed it examining the buds with great care, and am
convinced that they do not indiscriminately destroy the produce of
the trees. It has been remarked by some, that the finest trees are
usually selected as the scene of its depredations. But this, if any-

236 A CHARMING PILFERER.

thing, is in favour of my argument, as the insects may reasonably be
supposed to make their choice as well as the birds, and that the birds
only attack such trees as are infested by these insect pests.

We fear, however, that the weight of evidence is rather
against the Bullfinch. Cuvier and Bechstein both say that
it feeds on buds. Mudie particularises the early cherry,
the plum, and such trees as have a good supply of farina-
ceous matter accumulated in the buds, as the especial
objects of his attack, as well as the hawthorn, beech, and
pine tribes, where the bird is said to display much dex-
terity in extracting the core, and separating it from the
scales and turpentine. But the most conclusive evidence
is that of Dr. Townson, who thus states the result of an
examination of the stomachs of two of the birds : —

Exclusive of a few grains of sand and some small pebbles, I
found nothing but embryo flowers. I could discover with the assis-
tance of my lens, all the parts of the flowers. The mischief these two
little epicures had done, and probably at one breakfast, is incredible.
From the quantity of buds I found in their stomachs, each of which
was composed of four or five flowers, I think they had not eaten
less than a thousand apiece.

To this the testimony of Knapp and others might be
added. But to what purpose ? Clearly, Bully stands con-
demned as a pilferer ; yet we cannot help liking him, he
sings so sweetly, and dresses so charmingly. And then
the poor bird does not know any better. It has been ob-
served that, when the female Bullfinch is on her nest, the
male bird frequently sits for hours together on some branch
in the vicinity, uttering a low plaintive note, or a more
continued song, not very remarkable for its sustained
melody. By some the single notes which it sometimes
utters have been likened to a whoop ; thus we find an
anonymous poet saying —

It was a curious mossy cell,

Woven with twigs and grass and hair,
And 'mid the moss six nestlings dwell,

Concealed by apple blossoms fair ;
* "Tis Bully's nest,' Berthea said,

' His head of glossy jet I spy,
His downy breast of softest red ;

Poor bird ! I hear his whooping cry.'

AN ACCOMPLISHED SINGER. 237

Bechstein describes the song of the Bullfinch in a wild
state as ' harsh and disagreeable ;' but it is by no means
so ; on the contrary, the terms l soft and mellow ' more
aptly describe it, as those who have taken much pains to
come within hearing of it can testify. It is low and with-
out much compass, and only to be heard by a very cautious
approach. The listener can best effect his object by lying
down among the long grass in the vicinity of a nest. If,
concealed by the herbage, he remains perfectly still for
awhile, the birds will probably come to the top of the
bushes, and the male will utter his amorous song of connu-
bial bliss ; but the slightest stir will suffice to stop it, and
send the birds away to a more secure covert.

But if its natural song be weak and poor, yet has the
Bullfinch, when tamed, a surprising power of acquiring
distinct tunes, and hence it is made an object of a consi-
derable lucrative trade. Large numbers of i piping Bull-
finches ' as they are called, are commonly exported from
Germany to England, and all parts of the Continent. These
accomplished birds fetch from one to several pounds each,
according to their vocal ability, while a wild bird of the
same species may be bought for a few pence. Dr. Stanley
has wrell described a training school for Bullfinches, which
are formed into classes of about six each, and kept in a
dark room, where food and music are administered to them
at the same time, so that feeding and singing become
naturally associated in their memories, and they learn to
imitate the tune they hear played or whistled, as a proper
sequence to the meal whioh they enjoy. In some schools
the starving system is adopted ; it is with the feathered
pupils 4 no song no supper,' and every attempt at singing
is rewarded with a mouthful of something nice. When a
bird has made some proficiency in the utterance of musical
notes, he is placed singly under the care of a boy whose
duty it is to play on an organ, or to whistle, from morning to
night, the particular tune which the Finch is to acquire ;
and this course of instruction goes on for nine months, by
which time the bird has acquired firmness, and is not
likely to forget the lesson taught. Generally this is but a
simple tune, but some clever birds are able to whistle two

238 INTELLIGENT AND DOCILE.

or three airs without confusing the notes. These of course
fetch a large price. After all, however, who would not
prefer the poor bird's simple and untaught strains, harsh
and unmusical as by some they are said to be, than all the
difficult airs which it can be taught to imitate. In one
case it is the free utterance of natural feelings and impulses,
and in the other but a tune played upon a ' deftly-fashioned '
instrument. Yes, Bully,

Better I love thy wood-notes wild to hear

Than all the melodies that art can teach ;
Those untaught strains, so simple, soft and clear,

Seem ever near akin to human speech ;

And greater power have they the heart to reach,
To please, to soothe, to animate, and cheer,

Sweet lessons of content, and hope to preach,
And waken holy thoughts, and memories dear :
Still in thy woodland covert, then, sweet bird !

Utter thy low sweet call-note to thy mate ;
Ne'er by the spoiler be the green boughs stirred,

"Which shelter thee in thy most happy state ;
Ever may thine be liberty and love ;
A green world all around, and azure skies above.

Very remarkable is the intelligence and docility shown by
Bullfinches, and their attachment for those who have the
care of them ; one has been known, when forced to leave
its master, to have died of grief. These birds remember
very well, and often too well, any one who has injured
them. One of them having been thrown down, with its
cage, by some of the lowest order of the people, did not
seem at first much disturbed by it, but afterwards it would
fall into convulsions as soon as it saw a shabbily-dressed
person, and it died in one of these fits eight months after
the first accident. It is recorded of a Bullfinch belonging
to a lady that, being subject to very frightful dreams, which
made it fall from its perch and beat itself in the cage,
no sooner did it hear the affectionate voice of its mistress,
than, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, it became
immediately tranquil and re-ascended its perch to sleep
again. It was very fond of chickweed, and as soon as he
perceived one bringing it to him, however much care was

TAME AND FAMILIAR.

239

taken to prevent its finding it easily, it would snow its joy
by its actions and cries.

Buffon relates that Bullfinches which have escaped from
their aviary and have lived at liberty in the woods for a
whole year, have recollected the voice of the person who
reared them, and have returned at his call to their former
homes. A lady who had been a severe sufferer for many
years, found in a tame bird of this species a constant and
faithful companion, who really seemed to understand and
sympathise with her sufferings. The following account of
the familiarity and sagacity of the bird is from the pen of a
clergyman —

My poor Bullfinch was remarkably tame and familiar. I was
accustomed to open his cage at breakfast time, and if from any cause
I failed to do so, he made me understand by his actions that he con-
sidered himself badly used. When set at liberty he flew to the table,
and picked up the crumbs that chanced to be lying upon it, or received
a piece of loaf-sugar, of which he was very fond, from my hand ; he
would also take food from my mouth, and sometimes he presumed so
much, and was so impertinent, that I was compelled to drive him off.
He one day observed himself reflected in the polished surface of a
steel lock attached to a writing case, which excited his anger, and it
was most amusing to see how he erected his plumage, and hissed de-
fiance at his own image, and ever after, when allowed to leave his
cage, he sought this lock for the sake of quarrelling with himself.
It afterwards occurred to me to try the effect of a looking glass upon
him, and it was interesting to observe that when he had vented his
rage, he hopped to the back of the glass, and not finding the object
of his search there, he returned to the front, evidently puzzled to ac-
count for the deception. After this the poor fellow often went through
his exercises before the lock and the glass for the edification of my
friends. I kept this very intelligent bird for two years, and he died
of, I believe, apoplexy, in consequence of a too liberal supply of hemp-
seed, of which he was very fond.

Many other anecdotes of the like nature might be quoted
of this bird, but the above will suffice to show that his cha-
racter for docility and intelligence has not been overrated.

THE PINE BULLFINCH (Pyrrliula enudeator), sometimes
called the Pine Grosbeak, or Greater Bullfinch. The
length of this bird is eight inches and a half; consequently,
it is the largest of the Passerine family. It is a handsome
bird, having the head, neck, forepart of the breast and rump

240

THE PINE BULLFINCH,

of a bright red ; the back greyish brown, the feathers being
edged with red ; the wings dusky, with two white bars ;
the lower parts light grey.

Macgillivray includes this species in his work on British
birds, on the authority of Pennant, who mentions having
met with it early in August in the pine forests of Invercault
in Aberdeenshire, and supposed that they bred there ; but
no subsequent British author speaks of it from personal
observation. It is just possible that the bird may be a
permanent resident, but scarcely likely. We must there-
fore be content to assign to it the rank of a rare occasional
visitant only.

North America appears to be the only part of the globe
in which the habits of the Pine Grosbeak have been
attentively observed. Its food is said to consist of seeds
and berries. It frequents pine forests, builds a nest of
small sticks, with a lining of feathers, and generally places
it on a branch of a tree a few feet only above the ground.
It lays four or five white eggs, about an inch long ; the
young are hatched in June. The male has an agreeable
song, and will sometimes sing at night. In confinement it
continues to sing the year through.

GOLDFINCH.

THE GOLDFINCH (Carduelis elegans). — The Carduelis,
or Thistlefinch genus, has two British representatives, of

THE GOLDFINCH. 241

which this is the most common. It well deserves the spe-
cific designation Elegans, being truly elegant, perhaps the
most so of any of our native birds. Its beautifully varie-
gated dress of nicely shaded buff and brown, that melts
away into white on the under parts, and is edged with
glossy black, and ornamented at places with gold and
crimson, must be familiar to all of our readers. Its well-
proportioned form, with the wings and tail neither too long
nor too short, its lively motions, its gentle engaging man-
ners and agreeable song, render it a general favourite.
One only regrets that the beauty and loveable qualities of
the bird should lead to its frequent imprisonment, in which
state, however, we must confess, it appears very happy.
Still we would say with Hunter, —

I love to see the little Goldfinch pluck

The groundsel's feathered seed, and twit, and twit;

And then, in bower of apple-blossom perched,

Trim his gay suit, and pay us with a song.

I would not hold him prisoner for the world !

Many are the amusing stories we could tell of Master
Goldie's cleverness, and docility, and affection ; but our
object in this book has been rather to depict the natural
habits and manners of birds, than to speak of their vocal
and other acquirements in a state of captivity. Therefore
do we take our readers out into the woods and fields, to
watch this gay Finch following out the promptings of its
instinct, and doing its appointed work in the great scheme
of creation. Under the guidance of Macgillivray, —

Let us stroll abroad on this fine autumnal day, when the sun
shines brightly on the yellow fields, and the thistle-down floats
along on the gentle breeze, gliding like snow-flakes over the river.
There, on that old pasture, is the source of the plumy eruption —
a forest of tall weeds, which the husbandman ought to have pulled
up and burnt before they had time to perfect their seeds. See what
tufts of down are scattered about by those little birds, that seem bent
on demolishing all the heads, anthodia or capitola, as the botanists
term them. How curiously they hang on the prickly stems and
leaves, with what adroitness do they thrust their bills into the heart
of the involucres, and how little do they regard us, as they ply their
pleasant pursuit, unconscious of danger, and piping their merry call-
notes ! Now some of them have perceived us ; they fly off, chuckling,

Q

242 A PllOCKEANT CRADLE.

to a distant clump of thistles ; and as we approach, others shift their
stations ; but as yet the main body has no thought of retreating.
Let us stand still to observe them. They flutter over the plants,
cling to the stalks, bend in various attitudes, disperse the down, al-
ready dry and easily separable, pick out the pericarps one by one and
swallow them. There comes a stray cow pursued by a herd boy.
The birds suddenly intermit their labours, pause for a moment, and
fly off in succession. You observe how lightly and buoyantly they
cleave the air, each bird fluttering on its little wings, descending in
a curved line, mounting again, and speeding along. They wheel
around the field, now descending almost to the ground, now springing
up again. Some of them suddenly alight ; when, the example thus
set, all betake themselves to the tiny thicket of dried and withered
weeds, and, on settling, display to the delighted eye the beautiful
tints of their plumage, as, with fluttering wings and expanded tail,
they hover for a moment to select a landing-place amid the prickly
points, that seem to stand forth as if to prevent aggression.

How charming is this ! What a beautiful picture of bird
life, and how true to nature, whose beauties and harmonies
are well understood by the Scottish naturalist.

The Goldfinch is found in most of the wooded and culti-
vated districts of Great Britain ; but it is not equally
plentiful in all its resorts, being rare in some which seem
to possess the same features and advantages offered by
others in which it abounds. The nest of the bird is built
in trees in orchards, gardens, or plantations. It is a very
neat structure, elaborately interwoven, of grass, moss, and
lichens, as well as occasionally of twigs, threads, and other
substances ; it is lined with the down of various plants,
cotton, and other delicate vegetable filaments. The eggs
are five or six in number, about three-quarters of an inch
long, of a pale greyish blue colour, sometimes tinged with
brown, and marked with a few spots of faint purple and
brown ; in some cases there is a dark streak or two.
Mudie has observed that ' the nest of the Goldfinch is
literally a cradle, and the young are rocked by the winds
in their hatching-place, nearly as much as they are to be
afterwards on the tall and flexible stems on which they are
to find their food.' ' The Goldfinch,' says Rennie, in his
4 Architecture of Birds,' ' is more neat in the execution of
its felting than the Chaffinch, though its nest is not quite
so tasteful. The Goldfinch's is considered more formal,

A CLEVER ARCHITECT. 243

and less richly varied in its colouring, by the anxiety
which the bird displays not to leave a single leaf of moss
or lichen projecting, all being smoothly felted with wool,
which in some manner conceals the moss ; whereas in the
Chaffinch's nest the lichens usually conceal the wool.'
Bolton describes the Goldfinch's nest as ' bound with blades
of dried grass, and a few small roots' — a circumstance,
says Eennie, which has not fallen under our observation,
though this may be sometimes resorted to, for it may be
seen in the nests of some Chaffinches, and not in others.
Again, Bolton has found the nest on the bough of a plane
tree ; but Eennie says, l We have usually met with it in
orchards, in elms, and, more rarely, in hawthorn hedges.7
Some describe the nest as lined with thistle down ; but
this must be a mistake — at all events, with those built in
May and early in June, for none of our native thistles
flower before the end of the latter month, and none have
down before July. Grahame has well described the nest,
and the situations in which it is placed, in the following
lines : —

The Goldfinch weaves, with willow-down inlaid,

And cannach tufts, his wonderful abode.

Sometimes suspended at the limber end

Of plane-tree spray, among the broad-leaved shoots,

The tiny hammock swings to every gale ;

Sometimes in closest thickets 'tis concealed ;

Sometimes in hedge luxuriant, where the briar,

The bramble, and the plum-tree branch,

Warp through the thorn, surmounted by the flowers

Of clinging vetch, and honeysuckle wild.

All undefaced by art's transforming hand.

But mark the pretty bird himself; how light

And quick his every motion, every note !

How beautiful his plumes ! His red tinged head ;

His breast of brown : and see him stretch his wing,

A fairy fan of golden spokes it seems.

Oft on the thistle's tuft he nibbling sits,

Light as the down ; then, 'mid a flight of down,

He wings his way, piping his shrillest call.

' In most parts of Linlithgow,' writes Mr. Weir, ' Goldfinches,
which during the summer season were at one time very abundant,
are now rarely seen. Several pairs of them used to build every year
on the tall plane trees on the south side of Balbardie gardens. I

244 A WEED-DESTROYER.

have known their nests on yew and apple trees in gardens in the
middle of the town of Bathgate ; but their young ones were generally
destroyed by cats, or boys. A pair of them built one year on a
balsam poplar which grew on the side of one of the streets of the
above-mentioned town, within a few inches of which dozens of people
used to pass and repass during the most part of the day. So exceed-
ingly tame were they that they alighted on the gutters in company
with the Sparrows in pursuit of their food. I know the man who
took the young ones out of their nest and put them in a cage, which
he placed in his window, where they were fed by their parents until
they were able to procure food for themselves.

This bird has been known to interbreed with the Green
Linnet in a wild state ; in confinement, hybrids between it
and the Canary are not uncommon.

Young Goldfinches, like most birds, are insectivorous,
being fed chiefly by their parents with caterpillars. When
able to leave the nest, they rove together in small flocks
over commons and other uncultivated lands, feeding on the
ripened buds of the thistle, burdock, or dandelion, with
chickweed, groundsel, or plantain. These are some of the
plants most troublesome to farmers, by whom this bird
ought to be regarded as a benefactor.

Mudie says —

That each bird eats a hundred seeds every day is by no means an
extravagant calculation, which, however, gives to each the prevention
of 36,500 weeds every year. The birds cannot be numbered; but
when the vast flocks which are seen everywhere are considered,
100,000,000 must be greatly below the actual number. That would
give the annual prevention of weeds by Finches at the astounding
number, 3,650,000,000,000. Say that each weed would, upon the
average, occupy one square inch (and many of them occupy a hun-
dred square inches), and the quantity of land which the Finches
annually prevent from being overrun is little short of 600,000 acres,
or more than one seventieth part of the total surface of England and
"Wales, whether cultivated or not. It is true that many of the
Finches do not live upon seeds all the year round ; but when they
are not destroying the seeds of injurious vegetables, they are probably
still better employed in the destruction of insects.

Who after this would agree with the dictum which pro-
nounces judgement on the Finch as a mischievous bird ?
Its very name, Carduelis, from carduus, a thistle, indicates
that it feeds principally on a weed which all agriculturists
wish to see extirpated. By some naturalists we find it is

AMONG THE THISTLE-DOWN. 245

termed the Thistlefinch ; and several of the poets who
allude to it make its fondness for the national emblem of
Scotland one of its main characteristics. Thus, in some
anonymous lines quoted by Wood, we read : —

Hid among the opening flowers
Of the sweetest vernal bowers,
Passing there the anxious hours,

In her little mossy dome,
Sits thy mate, whilst thou art singing,
Or across the lawn seen winging,
Or upon a thistle swinging,

Gleaning for thy happy home.

Knapp, after giving us a beautiful picture of this bird on a
bright autumn morning, sporting in the sunshine, and
feeding upon thistle-down, observes, l Harmless to the
labours or the prospects of us lords of the creation as so
many of our small birds are, we have none less chargeable
with the commission of injury than the Goldfinch ; yet its
blameless innocent life does not exempt it from harm. Its
beauty, its melody, and its early reconcilement to confine-
ment, render it a desirable companion. It is captured to
cheer us with its manners and voice, in airs and regions
very different from its native thistley downs and apple-
blossom bowers.'

In Scotland this bird is commonly called Goldspink, or
Goldie. Burns several times alludes to it under the former
name, as thus : —

The sober Laverock, warbling wild

Shall to the skies aspire,
The Goldspink, music's gayest child,

Shall sweetly join the choir.

In the play of the ' Beggar of Bethnal Green7 is an allu-
sion to a trick said to be still practised by some bird-
catchers, although we scarcely believe it possible for the
thing to be done so cleverly as to escape immediate detec-
tion— viz., painting a Sparrow so as to resemble a Gold-
finch, and selling it for that favourite bird. One of the
characters in this play is made to say, —

246 AMONG THE POETS.

He trusts to make his fortune by the priest ;
Of some rich dame the favour suit to win,
And thereunto he follows the queen's court
But stopping in his way at Romford here,
Set eyes upon the Linnet I would lime,
And tarries at our house. But lest he spoil
My sport, I 've pointed out the bush to him
Where sits a Goldfinch — but a painted one —
Our Kate, that's vowed to wed a gentleman,
Our chambermaid, to seek her fortune, came
Like him to Romford, and alighted here.

Cowper, whose lines to a Goldfinch starved to death
must be well known to most of our readers, and many
another poet, has offered a tribute of admiration to this
beautiful bird ; foremost among them is Bishop Mant,
from whose lengthened address we extract these stanzas : —

Sing, pretty bird, though bright and gay
The colours of thy plumed array ;
More gay and bright than often own
The natives of our temperate zone.
To thee the sprightliness belong,
And sweetness of the vernal song,
Such as not oft the brilliant dyes
Can boast attained by tropic skies.

Sing, pretty bird ! thy sprightly lay
And sweet, thy plumage bright and gay,
Thy manners gentle, docile, mild,
Oft tempt us from thy native wild,
From feeding on the thistle's down,
To bear thee to the dingy town,
And there thy captive form include
In the lone cage's solitude.

Sing, pretty bird ! Though captive, sing ;
Prune with sharp beak thy shining wing,
With cheerful heart and motion brisk
About thy wiry prison frisk ;
Hop on thy mistress' offered hand,
Take what she gives with motion bland.
The seed and sugar sweet, and pay
Her bounty with a merry lay.

Sing, pretty bird ! I 'd rather see
And hear thee blithe, alert, and free,
And haunting unrestrained at will
The orchard's bloom, the thistly hill ;

THE SISKIN.

But since at length the wintry cold
Will come, and earth retentive hold
With frozen grasp the buried seed,
And snow conceal the tufted weed ;

Sing, pretty bird ! though captive, sing !
To thee no ill shall winter bring,
As to thy race at liberty,
Cold, want, disease ; but thine shall be
The crystal fount, the well-filled tray,
And warmth by night, and song by day.
And lengthened life, and hoary age,
Attend thy cheerful hermitage !

247

THE SISKIN (Carduelis spinus), sometimes called the
Aberdevine, or Black-headed Thistlefinch. Next to the
Lesser Redpole, this is the smallest British bird of the
Passerine family, being about four inches and two thirds in
length. Although less richly coloured than its congener, the
Goldfinch, it is a very beautiful bird. The male has the top of
the head and throat black, the back greyish green, the sides
white, marked with black streaks, and the under part yellow.
It has a neat and compact form, like the Linnet. In this
country it is known chiefly as a winter visitant, although
there is no doubt that it does sometimes remain and breed
in the northern counties of England and Scotland. When
j, these birds are generally in small flocks, in company

248 A HOME BREEDER.

with Linnets, twitting almost incessantly as they fly, appa-
rently for the purpose of keeping their numbers together ;
while they search the alder, "birch, and larch trees for seeds
as food. Their note very much resembles that of the
Lesser Eedpole. Macgillivray says that < the Siskin ap-
pears in autumn and winter, in large flocks, feeding on the
seeds of thistles and other composite, as well as on those
of the birch and alder, which it extracts from the cones.
When engaged in this manner, it clings to the twigs in all
sorts of attitudes, and is commonly so intent on its occupa-
tion as to allow a person to approach unobserved. It has,
of late years, been found breeding in England and Scotland ;
and it is probable that most, if not all, of the individuals
seen in this country in the winter months are indigenous.'

Among other authorities cited by this author in proof of
the Siskin's breeding in Scotland, is Mr. Weir, who gives
this account of the habits of the bird : —

About the latter end of May 1834, as I was returning from Bath-
gate, I was astonished at seeing, on the parish road between it and
my house, a pair of Siskins feeding very greedily on the ripe tops of
the dandelion. The head of the male was very dark, and the yellow
on the wings uncommonly rich. I followed them for several hundred
yards, being exceedingly anxious to discover their nest. In this,
however, I did not succeed, as they flew off to a considerable distance,
when I lost sight of them. Several individuals with whom I was
acquainted told me they had seen them near to the place where I had
formerly started them. I again and again renewed my search, but
without success. A few days after this, when persons were catching
Rose Linnets with birdlime in a small park belonging to me, they
were struck with an unusual chirping of young birds in a spruce,
which was planted in the middle of a very strong hawthorn hedge.
When they were looking into the tree in order to discover what kind
of birds they were, they immediately flew out of the nest, and, being
ripe, effected their escape. They appeared to have a resemblance to
the female Siskin. The nest was a small one ; it was built upon two
branches, one side of it resting upon the trunk of the tree. It was
about five and a half feet from the ground, and within twelve yards
of the north Glasgow road, and was one of the best concealed nests
I ever saw. The old Siskins, with their four young ones, were seen
for two or three weeks afterwards in the immediate neighbourhood.

I

249

CHAPTER XVII.

LINNETS AND CROSSBILLS THE BROWN, GREEN, AND MOUNTAIN

LINNE IS LESSER AND MEALY REDPOLES — COMMON AND

PARROT CROSSBILLS.

nnHE BROWN LINNET (Linaria canabind), variously
_1_ called the Grey, Eose, or Whin Linnet, the Greater
Redpole, Lintie, or Lintwhite.

The genus Linaria of the Passerine birds contains four
British species, of which the above is the largest and most
common. Its length is about five inches and a quarter ;
and the prevailing colours of its plumage are reddish brown
and grey. But these vary greatly, according to sex, age,
and season. Hence the variety of names given to the bird,
which is generally distributed throughout Britain, and is
found at all seasons by those who look for it. In sum-
mer it is chiefly in the hilly and mountainous parts, or
generally where there are thickets of broom, whin, or sloe-
bushes, or even where the herbage is rank, or the heather
attains an unusual size, on the slopes of craggy braes and
glens.

Through leafy groves the cushat roves,
The path of man to shun it,

The hazel bush o'erhangs the Thrush,
The spreading thorn the Linnet,

sings Burns ; and an anonymous poet, quoted by Neville
Wood, tells us that —

The Lintie on the heathery brae

(Where lies the nest among the ferns),

Begins to lilt at break o' day,

And at the gloamin' hails the sterns ;

or, as we should say in England, and in plain prose, ' hails
the stars in the twilight of evening.'

250 THE COMMON LINNET.

In these summer retreats, as Macgillivray tells us, —

The male, perched on a twig or stone, pours forth his sweet notes,
while his mate is brooding over her precious charge. But the song
of the Linnet, pleasant as it may be when heard in a room, has little
effect on the hill side, compared with that of the Mavis or Merle ;
although to the shepherd swain, reclining on the soft moss on a
sloping bank overgrown with ' the lang yellow broom,' or the weary
traveller resting awhile by the wayside, it may seem gentle as the
melody of the primeval groves of lost Paradise, filling the soul with
pleasing thoughts. The nest of the Linnet is generally placed on a
bush of furze or heath, or among brushwood, and is neatly con-
structed, being formed externally of blades and stalks of grass inter-
mingled with moss and wool, and lined with hair of various animals.
The eggs are from four to six, of a regular oval form, about nine-
twelfths of an inch long, colour blueish white, distinctly spotted thinly
with purplish grey and reddish brown. The young are usually
abroad by the end of May, and there are commonly two broods.

Close by the levelled rock, with twisted stem,
The lowly hawthorn blooms with simple grace,
Where oft the Linnet builds her curious nest,
And from the topmost twig in freedom sings,
To lull her downy young ones to repose.

Grahame's poetical address to the Linnet is extremely
good : —

When whinny braes are garlanded with gold,

And blithe the lamb pursues in merry chase

His twin around the birch ; the Linnet then

Within the prickly fortress builds her bower,

And warmly lines it round with hair and wool

Inwove. Sweet minstrel, mayst thou long delight

The whinny knowe, and broomy brae, and bank

Of fragrant birch ! May never fowler's snare

Tangle thy struggling foot ! Or if thou 'rt doomed

Within thy narrow cage thy dreary days

To pine, may ne'er the glowing wire (oh, crime accurst!)

Quench with fell agony the shrivelling eye !

Deprived of air and freedom, shall the light

Of day, the only pleasure, be denied ?

But thy own song will still be left ; with it,

Darkling, thou 'It soothe the lingering hours away ;

And thou wilt learn to find thy triple perch,

Thy seed box, and thy beverage saffron tinged.

Allusion is here made to the cruel practice of depriving
song birds of sight, with a red-hot iron, under the irnpres-

BOLD IN DEFENCE OF ITS YOUNG. 251

sion that they would sing better if their attention was not
diverted by outward surrounding objects.

Stanley, in his ' Familiar History of Birds/ relates an
incident which illustrates very forcibly the affection of the
Linnet for its young : —

Timid as birds are, attachment to their young will frequently
change their very nature, and inspire a boldness and confidence in
these little creatures, which calls for respect and admiration. What
can be more interesting than the affection of the two Linnets we are
about to mention? A nest, containing four young ones scarcely
fledged, was found by some children, who resolved to carry them
home, for the purpose of rearing and taming the young birds. The
old ones, attracted by their chirping, continued fluttering round the
children till they reached the house, when the nest was carried up
stairs to the nursery, and placed outside the window. The old birds
soon afterwards made their appearance, approached the nest, and fed
the family, without showing alarm. This being noticed, the nest
was soon afterwards placed on a table in the middle of the apartment,
and the window left open. The parent birds came boldly in, and
fed their offspring as before. Still further to put their attachment,
to the test, the nest and young ones were placed within a bird-cage ;
still the old ones returned, entered boldly within the cage, and sup-
plied the wants of their brood as before, and, towards evening, actu-
ally perched on the cage, regardless of the noise made around them
by several children. This continued for several days, when an un-
lucky accident put an end to it. The cage had been again set on the
outside of the window, and was unfortunately left exposed to a sud-
den and heavy fall of rain ; the consequence was that the whole of
the young were drowned in the nest. The poor parents, who had so
boldly and indefatigably performed their duty, continued hovering
round the house, and looking wistfully in at the window, for several
days, and then disappeared.

Mudie says, —

In the flocking time, against which the male has lost the red on
the breast, Linnets fly very close and crowded, but with a smooth
and straightforward flight. On the ground they hop, and have not so
much command of themselves as Chaffinches, and they accordingly
spend more of their time on the wing. They wheel about in masses,
and perch on trees, and though they have no song in the winter, they
all chirp at the same time. When the weather begins to get warm,
their short but pleasant song commences, before they retire to the
breeding-grounds, or the plumage of the male changes ; and though
their song is not so full then as after they have betaken themselves
to the wilds, the crowds that are in song on the same tree make a
lively concert.

252 CHANGES OF PLUMAGE.

The singing of the males while yet in the brown plumage, and the
fact that it is difficult to have caged birds in any other, appear to be
the chief causes of the confusion that there is about the species. If
the males are taken young, they moult into the winter plumage, and
do not change it ; if they are taken in the flocking time, they retain
the brown plumage in their moults ; and if they are captured in the
summer, which, from the wildness of their haunts, and the wild
habits of the birds, is not a very common case, they lose the red on
the first moult, and never regain it afterwards. In summer, too, the
female is very apt to be mistaken for the male. When one comes
suddenly upon him, attracted by his song, which in the wilds is par-
ticularly cheerful, he instantly drops into the bush, before his
plumage can be very carefully noticed ; and if one beats the bush,
out hops a brown bird, the female, and gets credit for the song of
her mate.

The deception, or the mistake, is further increased by the male
ceasing his song and raising his alarm-call as soon as he is seen, and
until he disappears in the bush, for he does not generally fly out ;
but the female does, and, as is the habit of the female in many birds,
she offers herself to the enemy, that is, tempts him by short flights,
to wile him away from the nest ; and, when the coast is clear, she
again flies into the bush, chirping softly the note of safety ; and soon
after the male resumes his song. Thus, though it is the male that
is heard, it is the female that is most frequently seen.

Eobert Nicol has addressed a sweet poem to this bird,
which we would fain quote here.

THE LINNET.

The songs of Nature, holiest, best are they !

The sad winds sighing through the leafy trees —
The lone lake's murmurs to the mountain breeze —

The streams' soft whispers, as they fondly stray
Through dingles wild and over flowery leas,
Are sweetly holy ; but the purest hymn —

A melody like some old prophet-lay —

Is thine, poured forth from hedge and thicket dim,
Linnet ! wild Linnet !

The poor, the scorned and lowly, forth may go
Into the woods and dells, where leaves are green,
And 'mong the breathing forest flowers may lean,

And hear thy music wandering to and fro,

Like sunshine glancing o'er the summer scene.
Thou poor man's songster ! neither wealth nor power

Can match the sweetness thou around dost throw !
Oh ! bless thee for the joy of many an hour,

Linnet ! wild Linnet !

THE GREEN LINNET. 253

In som"bre forest, grey and melancholy,

Yet sweet withal, and full of love and peace,
And 'mid the furze wrapped in a golden fleece

Of blossoms, and in hedgerows green and lowly ;
On thymy banks, where wild bees never cease
Their murmur-song, thou hast thy home of love.

Like some lone hermit, far from sin and folly,
"Pis thine through forest fragrancies to rove —

Linnet ! wild Linnet !

Some humble heart is sore and sick with grief,
And straight thou comest with thy gentle song
To wile the sufferer from his hate or wrong,

By bringing Nature's love to his relief.

Thou charmest by the sick child's window long,
Till racking pain itself be wooed to sleep ;

And when away have vanished flower and leaf,
Thy lonely wailing voice for them doth weep —
Linnet ! wild Linnet !

God saw how much of woe, and grief and care,

Man's faults and follies on the earth would make ;

And thee, sweet singer, for his creatures' sake,
He sent to warble wildly everywhere,

And by thy voice our souls to love to wake.

0 ! blessed wandering spirit ! unto thee
Pure hearts are knit, as unto things too fair,

And good, and beautiful, of earth to be —

Linnet ! wild Linnet !

THE GREEN LINNET (Linaria cliloris). — Often called the
Greenfinch, sometimes the Green Grosbeak, or Green
Lintie. The length of this bird is about six inches and a
quarter. The prevailing colour of the plumage is green,
with grey and yellow shadings. It is a beautiful bird,
and tolerably plentiful, being found generally in all the
cultivated parts of Great Britain and Ireland, except in the
western and northern Scottish isles. It remains with us
throughout the year, changing its ground occasionally in
severe weather, to obtain more sheltered situations. Gar-
dens, orchards, shrubberies, copses, and arable lands in the
neighbourhood of woods, are the chief haunts of this species,
where it may be seen actively employed, sometimes on the
ground, sometimes in tall hedges, or among the branches of

254 ITS NEST AND EGGS.

trees, searching for grain, seeds, or insects, of which its
food consists.

GBEEN LINNET.

Although generally said to be a late breeder, the nest of
this bird is often found towards the end of April, in low
bushes or hedges, and sometimes in trees. It is composed
on the outside of coarse fibrous roots, with bits of wool and
green moss interwoven, lined with finer roots, horsehairs,
and feathers. The eggs are from four to six in number,
white tinged with blue, the larger end speckled with pur-
plish grey and dark brown.

The busy birds with nice selection cull

Soft thistle down, grey moss, and scattered wool ;

Far from each, prying eye the nest prepare,

Formed of warm moss and lined with softest hair.

Week after week regardless of her food,

The incumbent Linnet warms her future brood ;

Each spotted egg with wary bill she turns,

Day after day with fond impatience burns ;

Hears the young prisoner chirping in its coll,

And breaks in hemispheres the fragile shell.

This poetical description by Darwin, although written
we believe for the common Linnet, will suit equally well
for the Green species, which is robust and hardy, feeding
during the greater part of the year on seeds of grasses and

QUIET AND PATIENT. 255

various other plants. In spring and summer it pecks the
buds of trees, and adds larva? and insects to its winter fare.
Although commonly a timid bird, it is not so shy as some,
and may without much difficulty be approached within
shooting distance. * When wounded by a shot,' says Yar-
rell, * it pecks at the hand and holds fast, although it has not
strength enough to inflict injury ; and when pursued on
being winged, it seldom screams in the apprehension of
being caught/

It has been observed that during the breeding season the
males of this species frequently engage in bloodless com-
bats, like those of the House Sparrow, while the females
conduct themselves much in the same manner as those of
the order just named. Also that ' the few notes which the
bird utters during the spring and summer can scarcely be
called a song, although some of them are full and mellow ;
but they mingle with good effect with those of the Yellow
Bunting and Sparrow ; although the concert thus produced
is not one of the most harmonious.' In confinement the
bird thrives well, being of a quiet and patient temper, and
possessed at the same time of considerable liveliness. It
has, moreover, the faculty of acquiring the notes of other
birds, and is not delicate as to its food. Wordsworth's
beautiful lines on the Green Linnet should not be omitted
here —

Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow-white blossoms on my head,
With brightest sunshine round me spread,

Of spring's unclouded weather ;
In this sequestered nook how sweet,
To sit upon my orchard seat,
And birds and flowers once more to greet
My last year's friends together.

THE BULLFINCH AND THE GREEN-BIRD. — The following
remarkable instance of attachment is related by Mr. Syme,
of Edinburgh, between a Bullfinch and a Green-bird (Prin-
gillos chloris), which he possessed : —

The two birds hung on opposite sides of the same window for a
long period; but their attachment commenced shortly after their
cages were placed together; we had, besides those two friends,
Borne Canaries, Mule-birds, Grey Linnets, and Goldfinches. This Green

256 THE BULLFINCH AND GREEN BIRD.

Linnet was really a wonderful little creature. Birds often acquire
astonishing tricks ; but they perform them in a mechanical manner
like automatons. Our Green Linnet, however, in all his actions,
seemed to be regulated by something approaching to reason. We
used sometimes to let these birds out of their cages altogether in a
room at one time. The Green Linnet paid no marked attention to any
of them, except the Bullfinch, unless when the birds were fighting ;
and even then merely to put an end to their quarrel, and punish the
aggressor. It was a strong, powerful, and spirited bird, but no bully
— not in the least quarrelsome. It submitted to the petty insults of
the Mule-birds, &c. with great magnanimity and temper, affording a
beautiful lesson to hot-headed silly-minded man. The Green Linnet
paid little attention to the other birds ; all his caro seemed centred
in his. friend the Bullfinch. 'Green Dick* and 'Davie,' the names
of these friends (and they knew their names by always coming when
called), continually singled out each other. Green Dick would fol-
low Davie all round the room ; if Davie stopped, Green Dick made
a peck, and sometimes a jerk, as if to make him move onward, or to
start him. If Green Dick succeeded he appeared delighted — play
evidently being his object. If Green Dick was feeding in any of the
cages, and Davie was attacked by any of the other birds, Green Dick
instantly flew to his friend, and drove off the assailants. However,
we remarked, he never used his bill, but pushed the aggressors away
with his breast, as if afraid of hurting them. Green Dick knew each
individual of the family in the house quite well ; but was attached to
one in particular. He would go to her in preference to any one else.
If she went into the room where his cage hung, he welcomed her by
punching up his feathers in a particular manner, and by a cheerful
note, which he used to none of the other members of the family. If she
advanced to the cage, closed her hands and raised or put them forward
as if to hit him, he showed no alarm, but sprang forward to meet her,
and appeared quite pleased ; if she put her finger between the wires,
and drew it quickly back, as if frightened, he was highly delighted;
but if she allowed her finger to remain for him to peck at, he drew
his feathers close to his body, and seemed greatly disappointed. If
she went into the room in a hurry, to fetch anything, without pay-
ing the accustomed attention to him, he took the pet, drew himself
up, and clapped his feathers to his body, and, though she went to
him in the hope of reconciliation before leaving the apartment, he
would take no notice of her. But a little after, if she returned, the
coldness was all forgotten, and he welcomed her as before. At the
end of nearly five years, Davie, the Bullfinch, died, during the night.
The next morning Green Dick missed him, for (as we have already
remarked) the cages hung opposite to each other at the same window.
He uttered a wailing note all that day ; the following he was appa-
rently unwell, he put his head under his wing, and had no food. At
the same time his favourite in the family was ill : he was brought to
her bed — knew her voice, drew his head from under his little wing,

THE MOUNTAIN LINNET.

257

but his eyes were dim and heavy. He was carried back to the win-
dow where his cage hung, and the next morning was found dead :
this affectionate bird, to all appearance, having died of a broken
heart.

MOUNTAIN LINNET.

THE MOUNTAIN LINNET (Linaria flavirostris). — Yellow-
bellied Linnet — sometimes called the Twite ; in Scotland
the Heather Lintie. This bird is inferior in size to the
common Brown Linnet, being not quite five inches and
three-quarters long. Its plumage is, in the upper parts, of a
light yellowish brown, with streaks of dark brown ; there
is a red tinge on the rump, and the under parts are light
brownish yellow, of which tint there are two bars across
the wing. Like the Brown Linnet, which it resembles in
its habits, this species is extensively distributed through
Great Britain, in the southern districts of which it is, how-
ever, comparatively rare. As its name implies, it prefers
the hilly districts. Stafford and Derbyshire are perhaps
the southern limits of its breeding-places in this country.
Thomson says it is not uncommon in Ireland ; and Mac-
gillivray describes it as ' plentiful in the Hebrides, in winter,
frequenting the corn-stacks in large flocks, clinging to the
stacks of oats, and picking out the seeds. Its flight is rapid
and undulated, and it wheels over the fields previous to
alighting, uttering a soft twitter at intervals. When dis-

258

THE LESSER REDPOLE.

turbed it betakes itself to tall trees, or to a distant field ;
but is not shy, and may therefore be easily approached
when feeding. In spring it forsakes its winter haunts and
disperses over the hilly tracts, where it forms its nest on the
ground, among short heath, or on the grassy slopes of
craggy spots. It is neatly constructed, being composed
externally of fibrous roots, wool, and hair. The eggs are
blueish white, marked towards the larger end with light
brown, and purplish red, sometimes with a few -blackish
dots.'

LESSER REDPOLF.

THE LESSER REDPOLE (Linaria minor). — The smaller
Redpole Linnet is the most diminutive of our native Pas-
serine birds, its length being something short of five inches ;
it is a beautiful little creature, with a crimson top to its
head, velvety black throat, and carmine tinted breast and
rump ; the back and sides are yellowish brown ; the under
parts brownish white. With those who keep cage-birds,
this is a great favourite, on account of its liveliness and
affectionate disposition. Bechstein remarks that its personal
beauty is greater than its powers of song, for this is but a
soft and indifferently connected jingle. Wood says that —

In confinement it is easily preserved, and soon becomes tame and
familiar- One that I saw in London some years ago, would feed out

ITS GENTLENESS AND ATTACHMENT. 259

of its keeper's hand, and refused its liberty when it had numerous
opportunities of escaping. The person who possessed it, wrote to me
in July 1835, to say that it had reared a flourishing brood, which
were all as tame and fearless as the parent, although but little pains
had been taken to render them so. When about six weeks old, the
cage containing the whole family was placed in the garden, with full
liberty to escape. The old male first hopped out, and no sooner did
he find himself free, than he flew away and was never seen afterwards.
But even this example was not followed by the rest of the family.
The female then led forth her progeny, and they flew to some tall trees
in the garden. The cage was now withdrawn, and the windows of the
house were shut, in order to observe how the birds would act. For
several hours they continued gaily hopping about amongst the trees,
but a little before dusk they betrayed great eagerness to obtain ad-
mittance into the house. Finding this impracticable, they settled
on the head and shoulders of their keeper, but would not suffer them-
selves to be captured, though they fed readily from the hand. Soon
afterwards the cage being brought, the whole family entered and were
shut in. These birds are still in good health, though in the end they
will probably go the way of all pet birds, and fall into the jaws of
Grimalkin.

Selby describes the nest of the Redpole as built in a
bush, or low tree (such as willow, alder, or hazel), of moss
and the stalks of dry grass, intermixed with down from the
catkin of the willow, which also forms the lining, and
renders it a particularly soft and warm receptacle for the
eggs and young. From this substance being a constant
material of the nest, it follows that the young are produced
late in the season, and are seldom able to fly before the end
of June, or the beginning of July. The eggs are four or
five in number ; their colour pale blueish green, spotted with
orange-brown, principally towards the larger end. Mac-
gillivray describes the flight of the bird as peculiarly
bounding and buoyant, and its voice remarkably clear and
loud.

"When starting it emits a hurried clatter of short notes, and as it
proceeds on its flight utters a single note at intervals less prolonged
than those of our other Linnets. Its cry is so different from that of
the Brown Linnet and Twite, being clearer and sharper, that one who
has attended to it can readily distinguish the species on wing. Al-
though not abundant in any part of the country, it forms large flocks
in winter, and betakes itself to the birch and alder woods, in procur-
ing the seeds of which the birds hang in all kinds of attitudes, like
many other species that find their subsistence in trees, such as Tit-

260 THE MEALY REDPOLE.

mice and Goldcrests. I have also seen them in August scattered over
a tract overgrown with thistles, the seeds of which they picked out in
precisely the same manner as the Goldfinch. On such occasions,
unless they have been previously shot at or pursued, they take little
heed of the approach of danger.

THE MEALY REDPOLE (Linaria borealis). — This is a very
elegant bird, in length about five inches, with a richly
diversified plumage ; the crown of the head is tinged with
red, not very deep in shade, and the same colour, gradually
becoming lighter in tint, extends over all the light parts of
the sides of the neck and breast, and fades into a pale
peach blossom on the flanks, and that again into white on
the belly and under the tail coverts : the rump and upper tail
coverts, which are pale yellowish brown in the winter, also
assume a red tinge in the breeding season, and the same
colour appears but very faintly on the rump, breast, and
flanks of the female. Many of the feathers are edged with
white, and this, with the sprinkling of grey here and there,
give that mealy appearance which has gained for the bird
its distinctive appellation ; it is also sometimes called the
Stone Eedpole ; Mr. Gould calls it the Mealy Linnet, and
says, ' Whether this species is truly a native of Europe, or
whether those which occur in our island are arrivals from
the northern portions of the American continent, is a matter
of doubt ; true it is that the specimens brought home by
Dr. Richardson, which furnished the description given in
the " Fauna Borealis Americana," are strictly identical with
the bird before us.'

Some confusion seems to exist with regard to the identity
of this species, which is a rare visitant in Britain ; it has
been considered as identical with the Lesser Redpole. But
Yarrell says that the London dealers in birds, who know it
well, declare it to be distinct from this bird ; he says that
1 in the vicinity of London it is rare even to those who,
attaining their living by bird-catching, trap hundreds of
dozens of birds in the course of the year. The Lesser
Redpole, on the contrary, is very common.'

Yarrell tells us that in the museum at Saffron Walden
there is a male of the Mealy Redpole, which was killed iu
that neighbourhood in May 1856, and one shot by Mr.

THE COMMON CROSSBILL. 261

Pelerin, at Oundle, was sufficiently advanced in its spring
plumage to have acquired a considerable portion of red on
the breast ; the occurrence of this species is, however, most
frequent in winter ; many specimens have been obtained
in England, and some in Scotland. Its habits throughout
the year are probably very similar to those of the little
Common Redpole, with which it has frequently been con-
founded. Its food is the seeds of various fruit-trees.

THE COMMON CROSSBILL (Loxia euro-pad). — Nearly allied
to the Bullfinches on the one hand, and the Buntings on
the other, the Crossbills occupy the extreme verge of the
Passerine family. The most remarkable feature of their
outward conformation is the compression and curvature of
the extremities of the mandibles, giving to the bill a
singular appearance, and to the genus its appropriate name.

Two species of this genus occur in Great Britain, both
as occasional visitants only ; of these the above-named is
the most common ; it is a stout-made, large-headed bird,
about seven inches and a quarter long, with plumage of
a dull red above, brighter beneath the wings, and tail
dark olive brown, and the rump yellowish red.

The Crossbills are very irregular visitants, a long interval
often occurring between one appearance and another ; when
they do come, it is generally in considerable numbers, and
at no particular time of the year ; they generally confine
themselves to fir plantations, where they find their favourite
food, which consists chiefly of the seeds of the Scotch fir,
larch, and other trees of that kind. In the northern parts
of Europe these birds are plentiful all the year round, and
are said to be very destructive in gardens and orchards,
splitting an apple with one or two blows of the powerful
bill, in order to get at the kernels.

A few years since the ' Maidstone Journal ' furnished its
readers with the following particulars respecting this re-
markable species : —

An extensive flight of that somewhat rare and very curious bird,
the common Crossbill, has just made its appearance in the fir planta-
tions of Penenden Heath, Maidstone. They were first seen on July 24,
and appear to be family parties, composed of parent birds and young

262 A QUAINT PICTURE.

ones of this year. These birds visit us at very irregular periods, and
sometimes with intervals of many years. The Rev. L. B. Larking,
of Eyarsh Vicarage, has an old manuscript which refers to this sub-
ject. It states : — ' That the yeere 1593 was a greate and exceeding
yeere for apples, and there were greate plenty of strong birds, that
showed themselves at the time the apples were full rype, who fedde
uppon the kernells onely of those apples, and having a bill with one
beake wrything over the other, which would presently bore a greate
hole in the apple, and make way to the kernells. They were of the
bignesse of a Bullfinch, in coulour, the cocke, a very glorious bird, in
a manner all redde or yellow on the brest, beake, and head. The
oldest man liuing never heard or reade of any such like bird, and the
thing most to be noted was, that it seemed they came out of some
country not inhabited, for that they at the first would abide shooting
at them, either with pellet, bow, or other engine, and not remove till
they were stricken down ; moreover, they would abide the throwing
at them, inasmuch as divers were stricken down and killed with often
throwing at them with apples. They came when the apples were
rype, and went away when the apples were cleane fallen. They were
good meate.' There are on record many visits of Crossbills to this
country, and since 1835, these visits have been more frequent than
before, and they remain longer now than formerly, in consequence of
the greater abundance of fir plantations, to which they particularly
resort to avail themselves of the seeds of the numerous cones, which
are their principal food during winter. Their autumnal visits are
made to those orchard countries where apples abound, the kernels or
pips of which they manage, with their singularly formed beak, to cut
down to and extract with ease ; and hence one of the old names by
which this bird was known, that of Shell-apple. There is one speci-
men of this curious bird in the Museum of the Kent Natural
History Society, in this town.

The author of the manuscript thus referred to was pro-
bably Aldovrandus, the ancient English author who gave
an account of the habits of the Crossbills, of which Mac-
gillivray gives us this picture : —

The Crossbill is a simple bird, but in the cage it uses its beak and
feet just like the Parrot, to help itself along. When thoroughly well
it moves its body to and fro like the Siskin, and then utters harsh
shrill notes with but little melody. One bird will try to surpass the
other: and those are most esteemed by the fancier which repeat fre-
quently a sound like reits or croits, and which is called the crowing
of the Crossbill. It will become so tame as to admit of being carried
upon the finger into the open air, and may also be accustomed to
fly in and out.

In the Autumn of 1821, when walking from Aberdeen to Elgin,
[says Macgillivray], I had the pleasure of observing a flock of several

A DEXTEROUS OPERATOR. 263

hundreds of these birds, busily engaged in shelling the seeds of the
berries, which hung in clusters on a clump of rowan trees. So intent
were they on satisfying their hunger, that they took not the least
heed of me. They clung to the twigs in all sorts of postures, and
went through the operation of feeding in a quiet and business-like
manner, each attending to its own affairs. It was indeed a pleasant
sight to see how the little creatures fluttered among the twigs, all in
continued action, like so many bees on a cluster of flowers in sun-
shine after rain. Their brilliant colours, so much more gaudy than
those of our common birds, seemed to convert the rude scenery
around into that of some far distant land, where the Redbird sports
among the mangolia flowers. In that year flocks of these birds were
observed in various parts of Scotland ; but although I have obtained
numerous specimens in a recent state, I have not since had an op-
portunity of seeing living individuals.

A correspondent of the ' Magazine of Natural History/
writing in January 1834, has a minute description of the
habits of this bird : —

From October 1821 to the middle of May 1822, Crossbills were very
numerous in this country, and, I believe, extended their flights into
many parts of England. Large flocks frequented some plantations of
fir trees in this vicinity from the beginning of November to the fol-
lowing April. I have seen them, hundreds of times, when on the
larch, cut the cone from the branch with their beak, and, holding it
firmly in both claws, as a Hawk would a bird, extract the seeds with
the most surprising dexterity and quickness. I do not mean to assert
this to be their general habit ; but it was very frequently done when
feeding on the larch. I have never seen them attempt the like me-
thod with cones of the Scotch or other species of pine, which would
be too bulky for them to manage. Their method with these, and, of
course, most frequently with the larch, was to hold firmly on the cone
with their claws ; and, while they were busily engaged in this manner,
I have captured great numbers ; many with a horse-hair noose, fixed
to the end of a fishing-rod, which I managed to slip over the head
when they were feeding, and by drawing it quickly towards the body,
I easily secured them ; others I took with a limed twig, fixed in such
a manner in the end of the rod, that on touching the bird it became
immediately disengaged from it, adhered to the feathers, rendered the
wings useless, and caused the poor bird to fall perfectly helpless on
the ground. In this manner, in windy weather, I have taken several
from the same tree, without causing any suspicion of danger. On
warm sunny days, after feeding a considerable time, they would sud-
denly take wing, and, after flying round for a short time in full chorus,
alight on some lofty tree in the neighbourhood of the plantations,
warbling to each other in low pleasing strains ; they would also fly
from the trees occasionally for the purpose of drinking, their food
being of so dry a nature.

264 THE PARROT CROSSBILL.

In captivity they were quickly reconciled, and soon became very
familiar. As, at first, I was not aware what food would suit them, I
fixed branches of the larch against the sides of the room in which I
had confined them, and threw a quantity of the cones on the floor. I
found that they not only closely searched the cones on the branches,
but, in a few days, not one was left in the room that had not been
pried into. I gave them canary and hemp seed ; but, thinking the
cones were both amusement and employment, I continued to furnish
them with a plentiful supply. I had about four dozen of them ; and
frequently, whilst I have been in the room, they would fly down,
seize a cone with their beak, carry it to a perch, quickly transfer it to
their claws, and in a very short time empty it of its seeds, as I have
very many times witnessed, to my surprise and amusement. As the
spring advanced, the male birds in the plantations were frequently
singing on the tops of the firs, in low but very agreeable notes ; yet
they continued in flocks, and were seen in some parts of the country
until the beginning of June. I had hopes of their breeding in con-
finement, and I accordingly kept them in different rooms, fixing the
tops of young fir trees on the floor, and against the walls, and supply-
ing them with as great a variety of food as possible ; but all to no pur-
pose, as neither those I had confined in this manner, nor those in
cages, ever showed any inclination to breed. They are amusing birds
in confinement, as they have some of the habits of the Parrot tribe;
climbing about the cage with both beak and claws.

The PARROT CROSSBILL (Loxia Pytiopsiltacus). — In its
colours and proportions this bird is very like the common
species, of which it is considered by some naturalists to be
merely a variety. Macgillivray, Yarrell, and all our best
modern ornithologists, however, agree in giving it a specific
distinction. The skin of this bird is frequently brought
from Germany by dealers in bird-skins, but very few live
specimens have been taken in Britain. It inhabits northern
Europe chiefly, where it is said to breed in May, laying
four or five ash-coloured eggs, spotted with red at the
larger end. M. Nilsson includes this species in his * Birds
of Sweden,' but mentions that specimens are more fre-
quently obtained in other parts of Scandinavia. Mr. W.
C. Hewitson, in his ' Notes on the Ornithology of Norway,'
says, * The common Crossbills would now and then cross
our road through the forest, but in such rapid flight that it
required great exertion to keep pace with them as they
passed from tree to tree, examining the cones of the pines.'

APPENDIX.

ON THE TREATMENT OF SONG BIRDS IN
CONFINEMENT.

The little captive trembling with affright,
Safely and warm to house it day and night,
Without undue restraint, secure to keep
From savage foes that prowl in hours of sleep ;
To give it glimpses of green waving trees,
And let it feel the soft refreshing breeze;
Bask in the golden sunshine, and draw near
To reservoirs of water cool and clear ;
To nestle in dim corners, and leave room
To preen and exercise each downy plume,
Free from dejection, and from suffering free,
As joyous as a captive bird can be.

A BOOK which treats principally of the sweet songsters
of Britain must be considered incomplete without some
practical hints as to their treatment in a state of captivity,
in which state we most frequently see and hear some of the
more favourite species. Especially is this the case with

Those who are in populous cities pent ;

and who have few opportunities of listening to the melody of
birds in the green fields and leafy woodlands. To such the
possession of a feathered pet becomes almost a necessity of
existence. How far they are justified in depriving the little
musicians, whose strains afford them such pleasure, of liberty,
it is not for us to question All creatures are given for man's
use and enjoyment, and, provided they are properly cared
for, and tenderly treated, we see not why the Song Birds,
as well as those of a more strictly utilitarian kind, and the
animals, which minister so largely to man's wants and
necessities, should not be brought into a state of domesti-
cation. For ourselves, we would rather hear the lyric Lark
pouring out its ecstatic strains high up in the blue sky, or
the Nightingale its rich warble from the roadside copse —

266 SONG BIRDS IN CONFINEMENT.

rather would we hear the Merle and the Mavis, with our
feet upon the daisied sod, and our brows fanned by the fresh
breezes of heaven, than listen to the most accomplished
parlour-singer that ever strained its throat in a gilded
cage ; but we love to hear the caged songster, too, at times
when country pleasures are beyond our reach ; and how
many there are to whom the trill of the Lark and the
warble of the Nightingale, and the flute-like whistle of the
Blackbird, are, indeed, unwonted sounds.

Many Song Birds, again, which now live in confinement,
have never known the sweets of liberty, and are evidently
so contented and happy in their imprisonment, that we can
scarcely imagine them to be more so in any other state ;
for, although we may agree with Mary Howitt, when she
sings —

How happy the life of a bird must be,
Flitting about from tree to tree ;

yet we must remember that this is but the bright side of the
picture; that all is not summer sunshine and plenty with
the wild free denizens of the woods and fields, which, in
the season of cold and scarcity, die by thousands. The
feathered captive, then, well fed and warmly housed, pines
not for freedom, but rejoices in the genial warmth and tender
care of those to whose society it has become accustomed,
and whose love and solicitude it delights to repay with sweet
song, and all the tokens of affection of which it is capable.
Birds, then, we say, which are bred in, and used to
captivity, enjoy as happy a life at all times, and suffer far
less hardships at certain seasons, than those which have

Their nest among the gorses,

And their song in the star-courses ;

or which

Dwell within the shade
Of the leafy forest glade.

Let it not be thought by this that we are the apologists
for the capture of Song Birds, and especially of those kinds,
such as the Nightingale and most of the migratory Warblers,
which manifest a decided repugnance to captivity, and
usually pine and die when confined. For these soft-

THE AVIARY. 267

billed birds, it is difficult at all times to procure a sufficient
supply of insect food, and they in their wild free state do
not suffer, as our permanent residents often must, from cold
and hunger ; for, at the approach of winter, they wing their
flight to more genial climes. Such birds should never be
caught and caged ; seldom will they long survive this treat-
ment, and often have they been known, as the migratory
period approached, to beat themselves to death against the
bars of their prison. For that prime favourite of all cage
songsters, the Canary, to be debarred from the liberty
which it has never enjoyed is surely no punishment, but
rather a benefit ; it has never known freedom, and if set
free would, in England at all events, be unable to obtain a
subsistence, and protect itself from the inclemency of the
weather, and the numerous enemies which all birds have.
If we provide this, and its fellow musicians, comfortable
and roomy homes, keep them from harm, and supply them
with food congenial to their nature, we prove to them not
enemies, but true friends and benefactors ; and how we are
to do this, it will now be our endeavour to show.
First, as to

THE AVI ART.

This, if the means of the bird- fancier permit, may be a very
ornamental structure, forming part of, or an adjunct to, the
conservatory, with accommodation fora large number of birds
of different kinds ; or it may be small, and devoted to one
or more species : in all cases, it should open to the south,
or south-west ; and be fitted with blinds to exclude, when
necessary, excessive sunlight, as well as the damp and cold.
A strong wire gauze, fitted where glass would be in a
human habitation, will best ensure to the feathered inmates
a free admission of air, and protection from cats and other
foes. The wooden or iron superstructure should be based
upon brick-work, and care be taken to make the bottom as
inaccesible to rats as possible; this will be best effected by
placing beneath the earth a layer of broken glass, and
having it beaten down quite hard and firm ; it is not well
to pave the bottom with bricks, unless earth be placed over
them, as they are too cold for the feet of the birds. There

268 HOW CONSTRUCTED

must be a good provision for drainage, arid at the openings
for this purpose gratings should be placed, to exclude the
before -mentioned foes of the sweet songsters, which, as in
the case of William Kidd of Hammersmith, have been known
completely to depopulate an aviary.

It is best to have this structure accessible from the house
at all times without exposure to the weather; it should have
creepers and evergreen shrubs about it, and be in a garden,
or some spot removed from noise and bustle, so that the
wild birds may build and sing around it, and hold com-
munion with their friends within : if it can be managed
for a fountain to play in the middle, in the basin of which
the inmates can drink and bathe, so much the better ; if
not, reservoirs of water, kept constantly fresh and pure,
must be placed at convenient places, with seed vessels and
other receptacles for food, but not too near together. Kock-
work, with creepers about it, will add much to the beauty
of the effect ; and pots with evergreens, and branches
trained up the walls, and the corners and ends, behind
which the nesting boxes may be placed, will greatly add to
the pleasure and comfort of the little builders, for whom
there should be provided a supply of clean wool, moss,
and other soil materials for building. Instead of nesting
boxes, some use little wicker baskets, about as large as
the handle of a sword stick, and these answer the purpose
admirably.

In a large aviary of this description many birds of
different species will live in peace and amity, and delight
those who provide for their safety and sustenance with
their music, and the grace and beauty of their forms and
movements.

An aviary is sometimes made on a more economic plan
of a spare room, looking over a garden, or adjoining a
breakfast-room, or study, with which it communicates by
a glass door, or one fitted with wire-netting in the place of
glass, so that the inmates can be watched in their interest-
ing sports and occupations. A friend of ours has about
forty Canaries in such an improvised habitation, and very
happy they seem to be, eating and drinking, and sporting
about, some seated on the perches, which are placed at

AND FURNISHED. 269

various elevations around the room ; some in the boughs
of the potted fir-tree in the middle, or in the branches of
furze nailed in the corners, and on the side walls, as
though cheering with their company and conversation the
breeding birds, which, seated on their nests in the little
boxes, look calmly around, and seem to enjoy the sports of
their companions as much as if they shared in them. The
floor is strewn with fine dry sand, as all aviary floors
should be, and kept scrupulously clean. There is a good
supply of green food in the shape of groundsel, and the
seed and water vessels are kept replenished. Some of the
birds are quite young, just learning to fly. One of the
Canaries is sitting upon Nightingale's eggs, and great results
are expected from the mingling of the young of two such
songsters as * shade-loving Philomela,' and the sweet
songster of the Canaries, which by the way may be con-
sidered as a naturalised bird among us, it having been
induced to breed in the open air, at the Queen's marine
villa, Osborne, Isle of Wight, and one or two other places
in this country. But to return to the aviary, which it has
been seen may be on a large or small scale. One very
extensive has been constructed at Knowsley, in Lancashire,
by enclosing a considerable space of ground with wire net-
ting thrown over the tops of the trees, and supported by
posts or iron rods. Within that enclosure are reeds and
aquatic plants, shrubs, furze bushes, tall grass, and plants
producing seeds, of which the various birds which here
dwell as in a state of nature are fond. Catharine of Russia,
we are told, formed an aviary on a similar plan. But the
best and most accessible specimen of a large building of
this description is the aviary at Kew Gardens.

Few bird-lovers, however, can indulge their fancy to
anything like this extent ; few even can have an aviary at
all ; but most have to be content with cages, of which we
shall presently have to speak. Those who have a con-
servatory, with space in it which they can spare, will do
well to make it answer the purpose of an aviary also, by
placing ornamental cages amid the plants, the warmth
required in winter for which will also conduce greatly to
the health and comfort of the feathered inmates, provided

270 INHABITANTS OF THE AVIARY.

the temperature is not raised during the summer, nor too
high during the colder season, as this would make them
delicate, and probably short-lived.

Very pretty drawing-room aviaries may be made or pur-
chased, calculated to hold about a dozen birds. The frame
may be of metal or mahogany, upon a stand of either
material, and it may be in combination with an aquarium,
or a fern- case, or both, producing a very beautiful effect.

Large cages of this sort are sometimes made with a
globe for gold-fish on the top, and vases at the corners for
flowers, the effect of which is very beautiful.

INHABITANTS OF THE AVIARY.

Most of our common Song-birds will do well in the
aviary. They are all seed eaters, and are therefore more
cleanly birds than those which require animal food ; they
are, too, more hardy than the insect feeders, among
which are the migratory species, the most difficult to rear
and keep of any. Blackbirds and Thrushes require berries
and worms, and are apt to be quarrelsome, therefore are
not very desirable inmates of the aviary, from which the
Starling also had better be excluded. The Robin, uni-
versal a favourite as he is, must by no means be admitted
among the sweet and peaceable songsters, being far too
pugnacious for such society. The Common and Golden-
crested Wrens may find a place there : they are pretty and
sprightly birds, and the Wagtails, pied and yellow, although
they have no song, will add to the beauty and variety of
the scene. They require plenty of water, and will most
commonly be seen by the fountains, or largest reservoir,
especially if there be small fish or aquatic insects, which
they catch as they hover over it. The Whinchat is a bold
and noisy bird, with not much song of his own, but a good
power of imitating those which he may hear, and its con-
gener the Stonechat, or Wheatear, is a handsome and easily
managed bird for the aviary. But by no means must any
of the Tits be admitted. They are the most murderous
little wretches in existence, having a singular penchant
for the brains of other birds, to indulge which they will

BIRDS TO BE EXCLUDED. 271

sometimes kill each other. Dr. Letheby informed us that
having introduced a pair of Tomtits into his aviary over
night, he was surprised the next morning to find one dead ;
for the remaining bird he obtained a partner, which shared
the same fate; and while he was speculating upon the
cause of this mortality among his Tits, lo ! the survivor,
before his very eyes, pounced upon a Yellow-hammer,
struck it down with one blow of his sharp bill, and com-
menced feasting upon its brains. Of course the murderer
was instantly condemned to execution. We record this as
a warning to all who are choosing stock for an aviary.
Pity that so sprightly and beautiful a bird should have
propensities which unfit him for polite society. Whether
the Cole Tit, and the Long-tailed Tit, or Mufflin, which
builds such a curious, bottle-shaped nest, are equally
destructive, we are not aware, but should fear to trust
them. Among aviary birds we may place the Hedge
Sparrow, or Dunnock, and even our familiar friend, the
House Sparrow, may help to swell the group, if there is
plenty of room. But none of the Swallow tribe ; they are
almost constantly on the wing, and no confined space would
be wide enough for their range in pursuit of insect prey.

Of course the Canary, which is a kind of Finch, is always
a welcome inmate of the aviary, and the Siskin, or Aber-
devine, another Finch, although it has a poor natural song,
may be admitted ; it is a bold, lively bird, and easily tamed
and taught to sing better. Its only fault is greediness, and
it sometimes dies of plethora. Linnets, too, should be
there, with their gentle warblings, and the sweet-voiced
Woodlark, although the latter is a. timid bird, and does
better by itself. Without the pert beau Goldie, and
velvet-capped Bully, and Master Shilfa, the Chaffinch,
sweet songsters all, no collection of feathered musicians
would be at all complete. Then, too, there is the Green-
finch, and several foreign birds of the family, which are
very desirable acquisitions, the latter especially, for the
beauty of their plumage, as well as their melodious song
and lively manners.

272 PRIVATE RESIDENCES.

CAGES.

As we have before observed of the persons who take
pleasure in keeping birds, but few can build and support
aviaries for their accommodation, and a cage, often of very
limited dimensions, is all the little prisoner can have ; but
even in this he may be contented and happy, provided his
wants are properly cared for. There is no doubt, that as
far as the health and pleasure of the bird are concerned, a
room in which there is space to exercise the wings some-
what is better than a cage ; and this applies more especially
to some birds than others, according to their habits. We can
scarcely imagine the Skylark to be happy in any confine-
ment whatever ; in a small cage, least of all ; and therefore
we deem it an act of cruelty to ' crib, cabin, and confine '
this the most lightsome, joyous, and high-soaring of all the
feathered songsters. Some birds there are which sing best
when confined within a narrow space, and some which, on
account of their quarrelsome or other disagreeable pro-
pensities, can only be so kept. Some birds, again, feel,
or affect, a kind of coyness, and will not sing when anyone
appears to be listening to them, or when even other birds
are present. Cover up the cage, and they will warble
away deliciously. Thus Bechstein remarks of Woodlarks,
which are fluent songsters, and somewhat difficult to keep
in confinement: — * These birds appear subject to some
caprice. I have seen some which would never sing in a
room, or in presence of an auditor. They must be placed
in a long cage outside the window. I have remarked that
these perverse birds are the best singers.' Reminding us,
we may observe, of some public singers, who, presuming
upon the high estimation in which they are held, become
whimmy and capricious in the bestowal of their favours.

Of cages generally we may notice that they should
never be very small ; room for the little prisoners to
stretch their wings should at least be given ; they must
be able to fly from perch to perch, as well as hop, or they
cannot be comfortable, cannot be healthy. If made of
wood, mahogany is the best, as it does not harbour ver-

SIZE AND FORM, ETC. 273

min, as deal and other soft woods do ; and these, too, require
painting to make them look well, which is always objec-
tionable. If a cage must be painted, however, great care
should be taken that it is perfectly dry, and the scent gone
off, before it is inhabited, as nothing would be more likely
to act as a poison upon the delicate organisation of a bird
than the effluvia from fresh paint. A mahogany frame, then,
of a square or oblong form, made in some tasteful pattern,
with wirework front and sides, is the best ; not brass wire
nor copper, as with these metals any corrosion from mois-
ture will form verdigris, a deadly poison. It should not
be less than a foot in length, depth, and height ; if eighteen
inches or two feet so much the better, even for the smallest
bird : the back should be solid to hang or stand against
the wall, and in this should be a door sufficiently large
for the hand to pass for the performance of cleansing and
other necessary operations. There should be a false bot-
tom, which can be drawn out and washed occasionally,
care being taken that it is thoroughly dry before it is put
in again ; over this should be sprinkled fine dry sand, such
as may be bought at any shop where bird seed and articles
of the kind are sold. It is not well to have too many
perches in a cage; two are generally sufficient, one about
two inches from the floor, and the other about eight ; they
may run either from side to side, or from front to back,
but in either case let them be so placed that the bird would
not have to hop straight up or down from one to the other.
For water, the glass fountains to hang outside, with a hole
in the side large enough for the admission of the bird's
head, are best. For the seed, nothing is better than a
little box fitted into one corner, with an aperture in the
top for the insertion of the bill. With an open box or
trough a great deal is scattered and wasted. If the cage
is meant to hang out of doors, the front only should be
open wirework, as in this climate, in most states of the
atmosphere, the bird requires shelter. Our heart has
often ached to see some sweet songster, in an open cage,
hung on a nail in the front of a house, with a keen east
wind blowing through its ruffled plumes, and chilling its
tender frame, or a drizzling rain wetting it to the bone, or

s

274 METAL V. WOOD.

a hot sun scorching up its very marrow, without the pos-
sibility of the poor victim to man's love of feathered pets
finding shelter in any corner of its very airy prison. The
wild bird may be subjected to all these atmospheric in-
fluences without detriment to its health and enjoyment;
but then it can flit from sunshine to shade, and from shade
to sunshine, as its feelings and inclinations prompt ; and,
moreover, by the free use of its wings, which the captive
bird has not, it quickens the circulation of the blood, and
keeps up that healthful warmth in the frame which is the
natural result of exercise. People do not think of this,
and wonder why a bird in a cage should not be able to
bear the changes of the weather as well as one in the
woods and fields. They forget, too, what is generally the
case, that the confined bird has been bred and reared in
an artificial manner. Let the cage, then, have in it snug
corners for shelter ; do not place it in the open air when
the weather is cold or inclement ; and when it is so placed,
let it be taken in before the chills and damps of night
come on. At night, even indoors, it is best to cover the
open part with a curtain, unless the weather should be
very sultry. The bird will then take its natural rest in
warmth and comfort, without being disturbed by any
lights, noises, or movements about it.

Of late metal cages have come much into use, and very
light and pretty things some of them are ; but we question
if a bird is so comfortable in one of these as in a properly
constructed wooden cage ; they have the advantage of
cleanliness and freedom from vermin ; they are elegant,
many of them extremely so ; they are portable, and may
be moved from place to place easily ; and, provided the
perches and false bottom be of wood — for metal is too
cold for the bird's claws to rest upon — we see no parti-
cular disadvantage in their use. We are not at all partial
to those fantastic structures which resemble miniature
churches and castles and villas, with rockwork and clock-
work, and cascades and rills, and moving figures, amid
which the bird, the only natural thing, seems out of
place. But we do like a tasteful combination of glass and
metal wrought into some elegant form, in which the beauty

THE CANARY CAGE, 275

of artistic design lias been made subservient to the comfort
and convenience of the feathered inmate. And such cages
are not difficult to obtain. We hope, ere long, to see a
great improvement effected in the construction of cages by
the employment of a new material therein, viz. paper,
which we doubt not will now be employed for a variety of
yet unthought of purposes. What so light, so capable of
being wrought into ornamental shapes as papier-mache"! and
what so tough and endurable ? Yes, we must have paper
bird cages, as well as paper collars and drainpipes ; and why
not paper tables to stand them on, and paper chairs to sit
in, and listen to the warbling of the feathered inmates
of the paper palaces, rich with gorgeous colours, gilding,
and inlaid work of flowers and shells, and all the fairest
things which art produces in imitation of nature.

We have spoken of cages in general, let us now parti-
cularise and state what cages are most suitable for certain
birds, and under special circumstances. And first —

THE CANARY CAGE,

Which will also do for any of the Finches — should be
always pretty and ornamental, as the birds are ; if not
combinations of glass and metal, they should have a frame
of mahogany, with wire work wrought into various patterns,
and surmounted with brass finials, of an urn or acorn-
like shape; the top, instead of being flat, or a plain dome,
may be of various elevations, like two or three distinct
roofs in a building, as in the subjoined examples (6 and 7).
The pretty round metal cages, made to hang up in the
centre of a window, do very well for birds of this des-
cription, as they do also for Linnets and some Larks, but
not the Skylark. The common size will hold a pair of
birds, but not more Canaries, however, generally sing
best when kept singly, and one of these birds may find a
very pretty and comfortable home in the fancy cage
(No. 1).

276

1. Fancy Cage.

2. Skylark Cage.

3. Blackbird Cage.

4. Nightingale Cage.

277

5. Breeding Cage. 6 & 7, Canary

8. Breeding Cage. -

278 CAGES FOR SKYLARKS AND NIGHTINGALES.

THE SKYLARK S CAGE

Should be at least eighteen inches long, nine wide, and
fifteen high ; made with a shelving and projecting roof,
like that of a Swiss cottage, with a front like a bow win-
dow, springing from a semicircular platform, about two
inches from the bottom of the cage. The vessels for food
and drink should be placed without, one on each side, in
a projecting box, like a little penthouse. On the plat-
form above-named, where the bird likes to hop, should be
placed a piece of green turf, cut from a field or road-side,
to be changed as often as possible, and on the bottom a box
or drawer, containing fine river sand, for the bird to scratch
up with its long claws, and roll itself in. This, it must
be remembered, is a ground bird, and not a perch er ;
therefore, does not require a perch. In its efforts to soar
it is apt to be injured by striking itself against the top of
the cage, which should be lined with green baize or linen.
We state this for the guidance of those who will keep
Skylarks in confinement, but we would rather imitate the
brevity of Punch's advice to persons about to marry, and
say < don't' (2).

THE NIGHTINGALE'S CAGE

This should be as large as that of the Lark at least, and it
should have the front only of open wire work, the sides
and back being solid like the roof. They should be lined
with baize or flannel, that in the bird's struggles to escape
at the migratory period, it be not injured. There should
be no projection at the front, nor aught which will interfere
with the bird's love of privacy ; indeed, if there is a curtain
so arranged as to fall over the front, when there is much
bustle or movement in the room where the cage is, it will
be better. When the cage is hung in the open air, it
should be amid green boughs, which shelter and shade it,
for this, be it remembered, is ' shade-loving Philomel.'
This bird must have perches : two will be sufficient, placed
lengthways, one high up, and the other low down. It

CAGE FOR THE GOLDFINCH. 279

does not require a seed vessel, being one of the soft-billed
species ; the receptacle for food should be of earthenware,
— a little pan fitted into a mahogany frame, hung like a
door on hinges, and made to open outwards. This should
be placed at one of the sides of the cage, near the bottom,
and opposite to it a similar frame, with a glass washer.
The lower perch should be so placed that the bird can
stand on it, and easily reach either the water or food, and
the upper should run across the centre, so that there shall
be room for the rather long tail of the bird, whether it
turn to the back or the front (4).

Kidd, who speaks with authority upon this subject, says,
* Let the sides, back, and top of the Nightingale's cage be
all of mahogany, in length seventeen inches, height four-
teen inches, depth eleven inches. Let the front be of
strong metal, lacquered wire, or of cane. In the centre of
this let there be a hole made sufficiently large to give the
bird's head fair play when drinking, and let a drinking
pan be suspended immediately opposite.' Tin must not be
used for the reception of the food. Nothing is so suitable
for this purpose as a small white earthenware circular
pan, fitted in a hinged frame, in the manner above de-
scribed. This author recommends Mr. Clifford, of 24
Great St. Andrew's Street, Holborn, to supply his l model '
Nightingale's cages, and also the birds to inhabit them.
This is the principal London dealer in what are called soft-
meat birds ; that is the insect feeders, which require the most
careful management ; of their food we shall speak presently.
Nightingales, it seems, may be purchased at from five to
thirty shillings each, according to the quality of their song.

THE GOLDFINCH'S CAGE

Should be one which allows a full view of the pretty
tricks and motions of this clever little performer. Let the
sides and front be of open wire -work certainly, but not
the top, for the bird has a habit of running along the wires,
and turning its head backwards, and for this antic, where
there are top wires, it seems to prefer them, and to perform
it more frequently, expending thus its energies rather than

280 CAGE FOR THE LINNET.

in song. The form of the cage may be of any fanciful
pattern ; it need not be so large as the Lark's, and may be
fitted with an apparatus for drawing up tiny buckets of
water, a feat which the bird may be easily taught to per-
form, although most frequently this task is assigned to the
more staid and steady Bullfinch, which does not spill so
much as Master Goldie, but goes about it with a gravity
quite amusing, as if it were the one great business of life.
All the Finches require much the same size and kind of
cage.

THE LINNET'S CAGE

May be made the same as that of the Finches, not over
large, pretty and ornamental ; it may have a wire top as
well as front and sides, or may be circular, with wire all
round ; except the bird should be a very shy one, in which
case it is best to have only an open front, or else to have
curtains drawn round, leaving only a small part open.
Linnets have a very sweet natural strain, and they possess,
too, great imitative powers, so as to improve it by culture.
We scarcely think, however, that we should say with
Burns —

I wadna gie the Lintie's sang,

Sae merry on the bonny lea,
For a' the notes that ever rang

From a' the harps o' minstrelsie ;

even when the bird has added to its own sweet notes those
of yet more accomplished feathered musicians.

This bird will interbreed with the Canary, and the re-
sult is usually a very attractive and docile cage bird, and
a very delightful songster. The Brown, Grey, and Eose
Linnets are one and the same species, the latter being
young birds taken in the spring : with age the fiery tint
on the poll fades, and first brown and then grey succeeds
— a symbolical picture this of human life.

BLACKBIRD'S AND BREEDING CAGES. 281

THE BLACKBIRD'S CAGE

Must be more commodious and roomy than that of any of
the foregoing species. It is best made entirely of wood,
of a square form, with roof like that of a house, shelving
down on either side. The sides may be open half way
from the top only, to save the inmate from a draught sweep-
ing through. Two feet is not too much for length, with a
foot and a half each way for depth and height, but less will
do ; Avooden bars are better than metal wires for the open
parts, and these should be tolerably stout, and a good
distance apart. The food and water receptacles should be
of earthenware, tolerably deep, and placed outside of the
cage, for this bird is a somewhat dirty and slovenly feeder,
and would scatter the one, spill the other, and probably
foul them both. There should be three perches in each
cage, running from front to back ; one low down on either
side, so placed that the bird standing on them can get at its
food and water, and one in the centre about half way up ,
they should be square, or may be slightly rounded. The
Thrushes, near relatives of the Blackbird, also do well in a
cage like this (3).

An extensive dealer in cages is Mr. Edward Hawkins, of
6 Bear Street, Leicester Square. This dealer also supplies
Birds, especially such as Canaries, Bullfinches, and has the
character of an upright and intelligent tradesman, well
acquainted with the peculiarities of the sweet songsters, and
able to give advice as to their treatment. Of

BREEDING CAGES

he tells us the best is a plain wooden one, with wire front,
twenty -four inches long, by about ten deep and fourteen
high. A separate cage for feeding to be attached when
required. Kidd says, writing of the Canary, that four feet
long, twenty inches wide, and eighteen inches deep, is a
favourite size with large breeders. This admits of a
double set of breeding boxes ; its make should be something
like that of No. 5.

282 MOULTING AND NET CAGES.

If a more ornamental structure is required, it might be
obtained of a dealer, something like No. 8, to place on a
mahogany stand.

But the birds do best in a spare room, or a small aviary;
if put in a breeding cage of the kind here indicated, it
should have a curtain drawn round it, as they require more
privacy than this affords. What we have said about the
fitting up of aviaries, for breeding purposes, will sufficiently
indicate the requirements of this kind of cage.

MOULTING CAGES.

The before-mentioned Mr. Hawkins describes a model
cage for winter use ; it is twelve inches high and long, and
eight and a half inches deep. Wooden top, back, and one
side, the other side glass, with a wire to protect it ; the
glass being made to slide in and out. A sliding glass may
be also fitted to the front, so that the bird may be shut
completely in and kept warm, which is necessary in the
moulting season. Many piping Bullfinches, says our in-
formant, die in winter : the cause is they cannot moult,
By putting them in one of these cages, they obtain the
necessary warmth, and moulting goes on. Properly they
should be kept in them for six months, having the glasses
gradually drawn out until the protection is no longer
required.

NET CAGES

Are for young birds, and are also sometimes used for old ones,
such as Larks, which are apt to injure themselves by flying
against the top or sides of a cage in their efforts to escape.
It may be formed by stretching tolerably coarse net over a
framework of any sort ; four square posts, each a foot or
eighteen inches high, fitted into suitable holes made in the
four corners of a piece of smooth inch deal, about three
feet long and one foot wide, will do very nicely for the
frame ; with some soft hay in the bottom, from a dozen to
twenty young birds may be put into such a cage, and may
tumble and play about without any danger of hurting them-

A SCHOOL CAGE. 283

selves. An old breeding cage may be made to answer the
same purpose, by pulling out the wire, and substituting
net in the place of it. Of course the cage must be put in
some secure place, as the net would be a poor protection
against marauding cats ; it will admit the air freely, and
through its openings the young birds can be fed.

A SCHOOL CAGE

Is generally a box with several divisions, each large enough
to contain a bird, which must not be able to see its next
door neighbour, nor the occupant of any other cell in the
prison. A square hole, and two round ones, and a slit at
the bottom, are cut in the side walls of each range of cells,
and every division between them, and through these a
feeding trough, and a sliding board below, and two perches
pass the whole length of the range. There may be several
of these rows of cells placed one on the other, with backs
and fronts of open wire-work, so that the air can have free
access. There is a little door in the front of each cell, and
suspended outside are little tin or earthen drinking cups ;
the latter is best. The advantage of an arrangement like this
is, that a number of young birds can be all taught together
without having their attention distracted from the lesson
by the sight of their fellow pupils. Sometimes a number
of small separate cages, such as itinerant dealers in birds
carry them about in, are used, and the effect is the same ;
but those who rear many songsters generally adopt a plan
like this in teaching them.

The music master set over this school may be a
Nightingale, Woodlark, Skylark, or well-trained Canary ;
and the little pupils will exhibit different degrees of apti-
tude, according to their attention and ability, for as in
human beings so in birds, all have not the same powers
and dispositions ; some are patient and plodding ; some
quick and restless ; some learn a lesson with difficulty, and
retain it long ; some have great facility of acquirement,
but soon lose what they have been taught.

The Germans are the most painstaking teachers of Song-
birds, and from them the London dealers receive their

284 THE BEST MUSIC MASTERS.

principal supply. About May is the best time to purchase
of them birds of the previous year, which have, in the
autumn, gone through the ordeal of a first moult, always a
very trying one to a feathered songster.

Canaries, Chaffinches, Piping Bullfinches, are the birds
principally imported from Germany, although most other
kinds may also be obtained from the same source.

The first-mentioned are generally taught by a Night-
ingale ; these are called ' German Canaries,' and fetch
from sixteen shillings to a pound each. English Canaries,
with very good powers of song, may be bought from five to
ten shillings. The Piping Bullfinches fetch a high price ;
if very perfect in the tunes they pipe or whistle, as much
as five pounds, seldom less than two pounds.

A bird that is taught to pipe an air, must have a room
to itself, or a number may be taught together, if it is the
same air they are all to learn. The lesson is played over
on a flute or flageolet, or clearly whistled, at certain intervals
during the day, and the learner is rewarded for his efforts
to follow the performer, with some of the food of which he
is most fond ; so that he comes naturally to associate his
music lesson with the pleasure of eating, and is incited to
do his best.

The Blackbird, the Bullfinch, the Linnet, the Skylark,
and the Starling, are said to be the most apt learners of
artificial notes. The latter is not a Song-bird, but it may
be taught to whistle tunes, and articulate words very
cleverly.

The natural song of the Nightingale is so full, rich, and
delicious, that any attempts to improve it by art would
only spoil it ; happy the bird-trainer who can get this
master musician to teach inferior songsters ; the Germans
are far more successful in keeping the Nightingale in con-
finement than we are, and their schools are well supplied
with teachers of this high class : hence the superiority of
their birds.

One of the songsters on whose education the most pains
are taken is the Chaffinch ; in its wild state this bird has a
few simple call-notes which are by no means musical, but in
the German schools an individual is often taught one, two,

REARING OF YOUNG BIRDS. 285

three, or even four distinct strains. Bechstein enumerates
no less than twelve varieties of song, which the Shilfa, as
we sometimes call this Finch, is known to utter. The people
of Ehul, a manufacturing village in Thuringia, are pas-
sionately fond of this bird, and bestow immense care on its
education. One of these hard-working cutlers has given a
cow for a celebrated singer.

REARING OF YOUNG BIRDS.

If young birds are not bred in confinement, in which case
they will generally be reared by their parents, they should
be taken before their tail feathers have begun to grow, as if
suffered to remain until fully fledged, there is danger of losing
them ; besides which they will have begun to imitate the
notes of the old birds, and others about them, and will be
likely to mingle them with any strain they may afterwards
be taught. It is best to take nest and all, and place it in a
small cage, in a warm room out of the reach of cats, and
yet sufficiently in the way to keep them in mind, and to
get at them without difficulty or inconvenience, for they
will often want attention. During the day they will want
feeding every two hours or so, the small and delicate
kinds every hour, while they are quite young ; but they
should not be fed unless they exhibit signs of hunger, by
springing up eagerly with gaping bills on the approach of
anyone.

Finches, Larks, and all the smaller birds, should be fed
by means of a quill cut into a spoonlike shape at the end ;
the Thrushes and other larger birds may be fed with a piece
of flattened stick. Great care must be taken that the quill
or stick does not hurt their mouths, or they will refuse to
eat, and die of starvation ; also, that they are not overfed.
Little and often is the rule ; directly they cease to receive
it eagerly, the food should be withdrawn. They seem to
require food less in the middle of the day than in the
morning and afternoon ; but in the former especially must
they be attended to, and very early, or they will not thrive.
Until they can have food it is best to keep the cage darkened,

286 KINDS OF FOOD.

as they will then sleep on ; so if it is absolutely necessary
for the feeder to be away from them for a longer time than
usual, he should, directly they are fed, put them into a dark
place, there to remain until he is able to feed them again.
By adopting this plan, a person whose avocations took him
from home so that he could only feed his birds before he
went out in the morning, and then again at his own meal-
times, has been successful in rearing them.

When, as is often the case, young birds get very dirty,
they may be cleaned with a piece of flannel dipped in warm
soap and water. After the dirt is removed from their
feathers, very gently wipe them dry, put them back into
the nest, and cover them up warmly. Should they shiver
and seem cold, wrap them in flannel and place them by
the fire or in the sun for a while.

Perhaps the most dangerous period is just before the
young birds learn to peck their food, when they are unwil-
ling to be fed, and unable to feed themselves. In this
emergency a well-disposed elderly Chaffinch, or some other
bird, has done good service in feeding the youngsters, and
teaching them how to take their own food. An old male
Chaffinch has been known to feed a dozen young birds, to
which, a minute before his introduction among them, he
was an entire stranger.

Not unfrequently, when a young brood is taken and put
into a cage which is hung up near the nesting-place, the old
birds will feed and nourish the young until they can do for
themselves.

FOOD.

In relation to the food which they take, Bech stein classi-
fies chamber or cage birds under four heads : first, those
which live exclusively on seeds, as Canaries, Goldfinches,
Siskins, Linnets, &c. ; second, those which eat both seeds
and insects, as Quails, Larks, Chaffinches, and Bullfinches
(some of these, however, also eat berries and buds) ; third,
those which eat berries and insects, such as Nightingales,
Redbreasts, Thrushes and Fauvettes ; fourth, those which
eat insects only, such as Wagtails, the Chats, and most of

KINDS OF FOOD. 287

the genus Sylvia, or Warblers. These last are the most
difficult to rear, and as there are but few good songsters
among them, they do not compensate for the trouble and
care which they require.

Canary birds, and most others belonging to the first class,
feed readily upon a mixture of canary-seed and crushed
hemp and rape-seeds ; Goldfinches and Siskins upon poppy-
seeds, occasionally mixed with crushed hemp ; Linnets and
Bullfinches should have rape -seed only, and that prepared
by putting as much as will suffice for a day's consumption
into a pipkin, covering it with water in the morning, leav-
ing it upon the hob in winter, or in the sun in summer,
until the following morning, when it will be fit for use after
the water is drained off. Hemp- seed, which is sometimes
given to the Bullfinch, is very injurious ; as a change, it
may sometimes have poppy- seed and millet, of which it is
very fond, also a little sprouting wheat or barley. All
these birds require an occasional supply of green food, such
as cabbage or lettuce leaves, watercresses, chickweed, or
groundsel. Sand at the bottom of the cage is indispensable,
not so much for purposes of cleanliness as to assist the di-
gestion, as they swallow a portion of it. Wheat and bread
crumbs are best for Quails ; for Larks, barleymeal mixed
with cabbage, or crumbs and poppy-seed mixed ; in winter,
crushed oats, a few meal-worms or maggots now and then,
or a little raw beef cut very small, may be given with ad-
vantage. Feed the Yellow-hammer the same. Give Chaf-
finches rape-seed, sometimes mixed with a little hemp, with
green food and fruit, and a meal-worm or two or some
insects occasionally ; white bread soaked in milk, and
mashed into a paste with the bruised seeds, suits it very
well. The Tits eat hemp or fir seeds, bruised oats mixed with
bread or meal, and a little lard, also hazel and walnuts. All
birds which feed chiefly on seeds, with green food and a few
insects now and then, can generally be kept in confinement
without much difficulty. It is not so with those which eat
insects and fruit, or the first kind of food only ; for these a
paste must be made of best white bread soaked in boiling
milk, mixed up with which are some flies, or other insects.

288 UNIVERSAL PASTE.

Nightingales, and others of the more delicate kinds, must
also have ants' eggs, and meal-worms ; for the fruit-eaters
berries must be procured when in season. A store of insect
food for the winter season may be obtained by collecting
the flies, when they are most numerous in the windows
and elsewhere, drying them, and preserving them in a pot.
The paste with which these are to be mixed may be thus
prepared : — Make sufficient wheaten bread for three
months' consumption, without salt ; get it baked, and let it
stand until stale ; then, when a batch of bread has been
drawn from the oven, have this put in, and let it remain
until the oven is cold. It will be easy then to break it
down into a coarse kind of meal, in which state, if pre-
served from moisture in a jar or canister, it will keep
good to the end of the above period. A teaspoonful of
this, mixed with about three times as much warm milk,
will suffice for the daily portion of each bird ; with this, a
few of the dried flies, or chopped meal-worms, should be
added, as often as a supply can be obtained.

The recipes of two other preparations of the kind are
given by Bechstein, and experience of their efficacy enables
us to recommend them both with confidence. The ama-
teur who has a large collection of birds, all feeding together,
will find these especially useful. They are cheap, easily
prepared, and nearly all kinds of birds will eat them : —

' First Universal Paste. — Take a stale, well-baked wheaten
loaf, put it in water, and let it remain there until completely
saturated ; then squeeze out the water, pour over the bread
as much milk as it will soak up ; then mix with it two
thirds of its own weight of barley, or wheat meal, well
ground, and sifted free from husk.'

' Second Universal Paste. — Grate a carrot very nicely,
then soak a small white loaf in fresh water, press out the
water, and mix the bread and carrot together, adding two
handfuls of barley or wheat meal ; put the whole into an
earthen vessel. Carrots may be kept in sand for the above
purpose through the year. If one of these roots cannot
be obtained, a good Swedish turnip will do. '

CAREFUL FEEDING. 289

Both of the foregoing preparations must be made fresh
every day, and no more of this, nor indeed of any moist
food, should be given to birds than they can eat in a day.
Every morning, before a fresh supply is put in, the vessels
should be carefully washed, in order that no particles of
stale food remain about them. Bechstein says: — 1 1 use,
in feeding my birds, a long earthenware trough, at which
there is room for at least half of the birds of my aviary;
and of earthenware, from its being more easily cleansed
than wood, and also because wood accelerates the food
getting sour. My birds, of which I have always from
thirty to forty at large about me, thrive so well upon the
first kind of food, that they are not only plump, but also so
fully feathered, that their confined mode of living does not
seem to affect them. Almost all birds, whatever be their
natural food, eat it readily, and thus with me Chaffinches,
Goldfinches, Linnets, Siskins, Canaries, Fauvettes, Red-
breasts, Larks, Quails, Yellow-hammers, Buntings, Blue-
breasts, and Eedstarts may be seen eating out of the same
dish.'

Every morning, both for drinking and bathing, the birds
should have fresh water. Where there are several together,
one vessel will do for all, but it had better be divided in
compartments to prevent their plunging entirely into the
water, and so making the place constantly damp and dirty.
A similar kind of vessel, but without partitions, will also
do for the paste.

Some birds are very indiscriminate feeders, and swallow
almost anything which may be thrown to them ; great
care, therefore, is necessary that nothing deleterious is
given them, pepper or putrid meat especially. To those
kinds which feed only or chiefly on seeds, it is best not to
give more than a day's supply, as they are likely to waste
and scatter it about, or to pick out the best at first, and
having only husks or bad seed at the last, they are likely
to pine and get sulky.

For the soft-billed birds, such as Nightingales, Black-
caps, Whitethroats, &c., besides the before-mentioned pot-
ted-flies, a supply of insect food may be obtained from
bakehouses, where there are generally plenty of meal-worms,

290 SOFT-BILLED BIRDS,

crickets, and cockchafers : the large white grubs of the
latter are in some years very plentiful ; they may be kept
in pots of turfy earth in a cellar, or other cool place, as
may also the maggots of the bluebottle fly. Ants' eggs
procured in the summer may also be stored for winter use,
and every kind of grubs or small caterpillars which can be
obtained. Mr. Sweet, who devoted great attention to the
Sylviadce, or soft-billed genus of birds, of which he wrote
a history, says that the general food which he gave them
was hemp-seed, bruised up in boiling water as small as it
could be, mixed in equal proportions with bread, free from
salt, previously soaked in boiling water. With this moist
paste was mixed about the same quantity of raw, lean,
fresh meat, cut very small. Besides this he gave his birds
the yolk of hard boiled egg, crumbled or cut into small
pieces. One egg he considered enough for twenty birds
with other food. For all cage birds that will eat it, egg is
good as a change of diet.

The Hon. and Eev. W. Herbert, for birds of this class,
recommends boiled carrot or beet-root, mashed and mois-
tened. ' A boiled carrot,' he says, ' will keep fresh many
days in a basin of cold water ; and is an excellent substi-
tute for fruit. Boiled cabbage, cauliflower, and green peas
are good for them ; all sorts of puddings, a very little
roast meat minced, I give them every day, and a little yolk
of egg when it suits, but it is not necessary.' In the way
of fruit, he gives ripe pears, currants, cherries, elder, privet,
and honeysuckle berries. He does not approve of milk
as food. Professor Eennie found this latter act well as a
medicine. He gave it to the Blackcap and other birds
when they appeared drooping or sickly, with manifest
advantage.

When grown-up Nightingales are caught and caged, they
will sometimes refuse to eat the food offered to them in
the form of paste, it being so different from that to which
they had been accustomed. An ingenious device for in-
ducing them to take this food, and thus ' meating them
off,' as it is called, is resorted to by the bird dealers. In a
saucer, or other convenient vessel, is placed some of the
paste, and on this in the centre, under an inverted wine

TEMPTATIONS TO FEED. 291

glass, two or three lively meal-worms, whose wriggling
motions soon attract the attention of the hungry bird,
which, in pecking at the glass to get at them, thrusts its
bill into the food, and swallowing a portion of it likes it,
and returns for more. Not unfrequently, however, poor
Philomel, deprived of the sweets of liberty, and the plea-
sures of connubial bliss, obstinately refuses to partake of
any other sweets, but pines and dies of starvation, and if
he does not at first do so, often at the season when the mi-
gratory instinct is strong upon him, he kills himself in his
mad endeavours to escape.

FOOD FOR THE SMALLER SOFT-BILLED SONG BIRDS, SUCH
AS LARKS, THE EOBIN, &c. — For the keeping of this class
of birds in a healthy condition, in fine plumage and song,
from experience we can recommend the following mixture
as the best that can be used : — Quarter pound bullock's
liver, boiled and finely grated ; three-quarters pound pea-
meal ; half-pound stale bread crumbs, finely rubbed ; the
raw yolk of two fresh eggs. Mix these well together.
Then put in a clean frying-pan, gently heated, two
ounces fresh butter. Add the above mixture. Place the
frying-pan on a very slow fire ; stir till a little brown.
When taken off the fire, and still warm, mix quarter
pound coarse sugar. Let the whole stand in the pan till
quite cold ; then add a pound and a half hemp-seed, well
bruised (as many of the shells as possible being blown off),
and two ounces maw- seed not bruised. Mix the whole
well, and leave the compound in grains about the size of
canary-seed. Then put in pots, well covered up. If
these simple directions are followed, the food will keep
a sufficient time ; but everything depends on care being
taken while on the fire : the embers of a fire answer best.
If burned, the nourishment is destroyed ; if not equally
and gently done it is apt to mould. A uniform rich brown
is the proper colour.

If with the above is given occasionally a meal-worm or
maggot, and in summer a few of the smaller grubs which
are to be found in abundance curled up in the leaves of
fruit trees and currant bushes, nothing more is to be de-
sired ; and your interesting prisoners, so far at least as

292 DISEASES AND REMEDIES.

food is concerned, will have no cause to pine over their
confinement.

FOR THE STARLING, THE THRUSH, AND THE LARGER
SOFT-BILLED BIRDS. — While the foregoing is quite suit-
able, indeed preferable, for all soft-billed birds, a less
expensive and excellent compound for the larger class
may be made up thus : — One pound bullock's liver,
boiled and grated, and one pound pea-meal, mixed.
Then put into frying-pan quarter pound mutton suet.
When melted, add the mixture. Do over a slow fire as
before directed. When taken off the fire, and still warm,
add two ounces of coarse sugar. Let it stand till cold,
and then pot. In this case the grains should be as large as
a corn pickle. In neither instance should the food be
pounded like meal.

Give as before an occasional meal-worm, maggot, or
small caterpillar. These, for both the larger and smaller
birds, more abundantly in summer than in winter. Those
who cannot be at the trouble of providing this portion of
the food, should never keep soft-billed birds of any class in
confinement.

DISEASES AND REMEDIES.

Living as they do in confined air, and to a great extent
upon artificial food, caged birds are more subject to ail-
ments which shorten life than those in a wild free state ;
and yet we do not think that the rate of mortality amongst
these feathered prisoners is higher, or indeed nearly so high
as that which obtains among birds at liberty, which are ex-
posed to many casualties and dangers unknown to the pets
of the cage and aviary. Of the diseases to which these
latter are especially liable, Bechstein has given a better
account than any other writer on the subject, and the in-
formation which he affords, combined with the result of
the practical experience of others, we here offer to our
readers.

Before proceeding to specify these particular diseases,
let us observe generally that birds, like children, are often
rendered sickly by over-indulgence. Sugar and other

DISEASES AND REMEDIES. 293

delicacies, and food which is too stimulating, is given to
them, and their health greatly suffers from the mistaken
kindness of their protectors. We say this to caution and
warn those who desire their feathered pets to enjoy long
lives, and be happy in confinement.

It is very pretty and pleasant to see the little songsters
peck and peck at the piece of sugar or some other dainty
morsel with such evident enjoyment, but by-and-bye
come the glazed eye and the ruffled plumes, the drooping
head and the tottering gait, and probably, after all efforts,
the lifeless form and the hushed music ; for a bird stricken
with disease is not often cured, although sometimes the
remedies which are here presented will be found effectual,
and therefore they should be tried : —

The Pip. — The symptoms of this malady, which is sim-
ply a cold, are a ruffled state of the feathers of the head,
a yellow tinge at the root of the beak, frequent gasping as
though for breath, and great dryness of the tongue, the
skin of which has become hardened by fever, while the
orifices of the nose are also stopped, so that breathing has
become difficult. In this emergency, relief may sometimes
be afforded by the removal of the hardened cuticle of the
tongue, beginning at the base, by the palate, and stripping
it off to the top, thus opening the pores and allowing the
saliva to flow. But this can only be done with the larger
kinds of birds. To remove the obstructions in the nostrils
a small feather may be drawn through them. A pill, con-
sisting of fresh butter, pepper, and garlic, should be given,
and for drink, an infusion of the herb speedwell; probably
horehound tea, or an infusion of any herb, having demul-
cent properties, would answer the same purpose.

The Rheum is indicated by frequent sneezing and shaking
of the head. This too is caused by a cold. A few drops
of pectoral elixir or paregoric, in a little infusion of speed-
well, is the best remedy. When there is merely hoarse-
ness, a weak decoction of dried figs should be given, and
carrot-juice as a purgative ; boiled bread and milk is also
serviceable for this disease, which is sometimes spoken of as
Asthma.

Consumption, sometimes called atrophy or wasting. In

294 DISEASES AND REMEDIES.

this disease the feathers of the bird become ruffled all
over, the flesh wastes away, and frequently the empty skin
is distended as with air. It usually results from an im-
perfect performance of the digestive functions, owing to
unnatural food. A spider given now and then, as a pur-
gative, and water impregnated with iron by means of a
rusty nail, as a tonic, are the best remedies. The patient
should have a full allowance of its proper food, and that
of the best kind. Water-cresses have been found service-
able in this malady.

Constipation, or Costiveness. — Frequent and unsuccessful
endeavours to void its excrements are significant of this. To
relieve which a spider should be first tried, or a drop or
two of castor oil. If this is unsuccessful, dip the head of a
pin into linseed oil, and gently thrust it into the rectum.
For such birds as eat meal-worms, the skin of one of these
may be squeezed out, then filled with sweet oil, having a
few shreds of saffron in it. Boiled bread and milk is also
useful.

Diarrhoea or Dysentery. — This sometimes follows a
change of diet, or the eating of any unwholesome food.
Recently caught birds are more especially subject to it.
The frequent voiding of white thin chalky matter is its
chief symptoms ; this sticks to the feathers about the vent,
and being acrid, causes inflammation there, and into the
intestines. Some chalybeate water, or that impreg-
nated with iron, is serviceable in this case, as is also the
linseed oil clyster, as above described. Some recommend
that the under feathers of the tail and vent should be plucked
out, and the parts rubbed with fresh butter, also that hard
boiled yolk of egg should be mixed with the food. Chaly-
beate water, mixed with a little milk, has been found ser-
viceable in chronic cases, and boiled bread and milk, with
plenty of lettuce, or other green food, has often effected a
cure if given when the disease first showed itself.

Stoppage of the Fat Gland, or Pimple, as it is some-
times called. This is the gland in the rump which con-
tains the oil necessary for lubricating the feathers ; it
sometimes becomes hard and inflamed, because probably
the bird does not often enough press it to expel the fluid.

DISEASES AND REMEDIES. 295

If tlie prisoner is observed to sit drooping on its perch, and
to peck frequently at the rump, where the feathers are
probably much ruffled, there is reason to suspect this dis-
ease ; and if an inspection of the part shows the gland in a
swollen and indurated state, the aperture thereof should be
enlarged with a needle, or the point of a penknife, and the
part anointed with a mixture of fresh butter and sugar ; or
a salve prepared of white lead, litharge, wax, and olive oil,
should be laid over it. Sometimes it is judged best to cut
off the gland altogether ; but this should only be a last
resort, as its absence will sometimes cause the death of the
bird at the moult, when the new feathers require greasing.
Such is the general opinion among bird-keepers ; but some
judge it to be erroneous, and say that the gland is not re-
quired for that purpose. After paring the gland, it is by some
thought best to give the bird a little magnesia in its drink.

Epilepsy is a disease to which Bullfinches and Thrushes,
both birds of robust make, or, as we should say of a human
being i of a full habit of body,' are especially liable ; it is
probably caused by over-feeding and want of exercise.
The patient falls suddenly from his perch, and lies strug-
gling at the bottom of the cage, and if not relieved by
blood-letting, or a plunge into a cold bath, will probably
die. The bleeding is effected by making a small puncture
with a lancet, or sharp penknife, into the surface of the
claw, which is then put into warm water to keep the blood
flowing for a time. The more suddenly the bird is put
into the bath, and the colder the water, the better ; but it
must be wrapped up well when it comes out, or it will
probably take cold, and die of asthma, or consumption. A
few drops of olive or castor oil may be given with advan-
tage in this disease, and the patient should be kept on low
diet for a time. When birds in confinement become too
fat, they are likely to have an attack of this kind ; they
should have low diet ; a little Swedish turnip or carrot
mixed with their food, and, in the case of the Warblers,
dried ants' eggs, should be given.

Tympany. — In this disorder the skin of a part, or per-
haps the whole of the body, becomes distended with air.
The prick of a needle will generally be sufficient to restore

296 DISEASES AND REMEDIES.

the bird to its natural size, so that the malady is easily
cured. No mischief is likely to attend the operation, which
may therefore be performed without fear.

Giddiness or Twirling. — This is rather a bad habit
than a disease, although, if not checked, it sometimes causes
death, and may therefore call for serious consideration.
Seed-eating birds are most addicted to this habit of twist-
ing the head and neck so far back as to lose their balance,
and fall from the perch. The readiest means of effecting
a cure is to cover the top of the cage, so that nothing can
be seen above it.

Parasites. — Cage birds are sometimes much troubled
by lice or mites, which keep them in a constant state of
irritation and restlessness, so that their health suffers.
When there is much shifting about on the perch, and a
frequent application of the beak to the back, wings, or
abdomen, there is reason to suspect the presence of these
tormenters, and an examination should be immediately
instituted. Should the little yellow and red insects be dis-
covered upon the skin, or between the feathers, give them,
by means of a syringe, a good dose of weak infusion of
tobacco, or water in which quicksilver has been steeped.
This should be repeated for several days, letting the bird
have a bath frequently, and taking care that its cage be
scrupulously clean, and strewn with fresh sand every day.

Bad feet more frequently arise from want of oppor-
tunities for bathing than perhaps any other cause : dryness
causes the scales to contract, and great pain and irritation
ensues. Sometimes it is gout which occasions the feet to
swell and become painful ; in either case warm fomentations
should be resorted to, and frequent cleansing, taking care
to remove all the loose scales and diseased skin; this should
be done very tenderly. When a bird's foot is bruised or
broken, it should be shut up in a small cage, having a
smooth even bottom and no perches, and put in a quiet
place, where there is nothing to disturb and cause it to move
about. In this manner a cure will generally be effected
without the aid of plaster or bandages. In cases of bad
feet, the plan of having a cage with a movable tin bottom
•which could be partly filled with tepid water, has been

DISEASES AND REMEDIES. 297

adopted : the perches are taken away, so that the bird
is obliged to remain in the water as long as may be neces-
sary, that is about half an hour at a time. During the
feet-bathing, a little hemp-seed should be thrown in now
and then to amuse the bird : the bath may be continued
every other day until the feet are well. In cases of gouty
feet a decoction of the plant called soapwort has been
found efficacious ; in other cases washing daily in warm
water with castile soap, and anointing with lard or oil.

Sore eyes may be washed with an infusion of white helle-
bore, especially when disposed to blindness. The juice of
beet-root, both as a liniment and drink, is also useful.

Tumours and ulcers sometimes come in the heads of birds ;
they should be touched with a red-hot knitting-needle, and
afterwards anointed with black soap in a liquid state.
When the humour is soft, and looks like a formation of
matter, it should be dressed with fresh butter until it breaks
and discharges. Beet-juice is the best drink the bird can
have.

Ulcers in the throat should have borax and honey
applied to them by means of a feather. The best medicine
for the bird in this case is milk of almonds.

Pairing fever usually comes on in the month of May,
when the desire for sexual intercourse is the strongest. Birds
affected by it cease to sing, sit moping with ruffled feathers,
and not unfrequently pine away and die. They should be
kept out of the sight of females, even of another species, or
of birds which are paired, and have change of scene.
Hanging them out of the window commonly effects a cure ;
their attention is there diverted from their own sorrows,
and they soon share in the general hilarity of nature.

Moulting. — Bechstein observes that birds always moult
at a time when their food is most abundant ; the forest
birds may then be seen approaching fields and cultivated
places, where, having plenty of insects and seeds, they can-
not suffer from want ; indeed, the loss of their feathers pre-
vents their taking long flights, and the reproduction of
them occasions a loss of flesh which must be repaired. An
abundance of food is therefore necessary ; and following
this rule, during moulting, some additional food must be

298 GENERAL DIRECTIONS.

given to house birds, appropriate to the different species
millet or canary-seed, a little hemp- seed, white bread
soaked in water, and lettuce or endive, to those which feed
on seeds ; with a few more meal-worms or ants' eggs to
those that eat insects. All should have bread soaked in
boiled milk, warmth, and baths. This will sufficiently
indicate the line of treatment, at this the most critical
crisis of bird life ; warmth and nourishing diet are the
chief requisites. The drink should be water impregnated
with iron.

Age. — This is a malady, if it may be so termed, for which
there is no cure. When their time comes, birds like men
must diB ; but the period of life depends greatly upon the
care taken of the patient, the nature of its food, &c. Of the
average duration of life which obtains among wild birds,
we have no means of judging correctly, and there are so
many circumstances which affect that of those in confine-
ment, that we cannot take it as a criterion : we know that
Parrots have lived in confinement for a century or more,
and several kinds of Finches for twenty-four years, and
even the Nightingale, that most delicate of cage birds, has
attained that age in a state of domestication, and cannot be
taken as a standard.

We must here bring our practical remarks to a conclu-
sion : let us do so with a few

GENERAL DIRECTIONS.

Give cage birds as much air and light as possible, with-
out exposing them to cold draughts and glare of hot sun-
shine. Take care that they have no sudden changes of
temperature, and that the air they breathe be free from
noxious vapours. The smell of fresh paint will quickly kill
them, as will often that of escaped gas, or any other offensive
odour. Never let them hang in moist reek or steam. When
newly caught they must be accustomed gradually to the
confined air of the house. Keep them clean. Feed them
regularly and sparingly ; if you cram them you kill them ;
and treat them at all times ivith the greatest gentleness and
tenderness.

INDEX.

Aberdevine . . .

PAGE

247 Chestnut-backed Thrush

PAGE

157

Alpine Acrentor . .

76

Chiff Chaff .

51-53

Alpine Chanter

76

Chink ....

202

Aviary, construction of

267

Chip Chop .

53

— inhabitants of .

270

Churr ....

44

Cinereous Wagtail

103

Babbling Warbler
Babillard .

46
46

Cirl Bunting
Coal Hood .

201
233

Bear die

44

Common Crossbill

261

Beech Finch . .

224

Grosbeak . ,

230

Billy Whitethroat

40

Corn Bunting

196

Blackbird .

145

Creepers

111

Blackbonnet .

202

Cricket Bird

64

Blackcap . . .

37

Crossbills

261

Black-headed Bunting .

202

Black-headed Thistle Finch

247

Dalmatian Regulus «

71

Black Eedstart

99

Dartford Warbler

55

Black-throated Grosbeak

230

Devil's Bird

198

Blacky Top .

79

Diseases and Remedies

292

Blethering Tarn .

44

Dish-washers

110

Blue-headed Quaketail .

107

Dunnock

73

Blue-throated Redstart

100

Dusky Lark .

192

Blue-throated Warbler .

100

Brakehopper . .

64

Fallow Chat .

80

Bramble Finch

229

Smich .

80

Br ambling . . .

229

Fauvet

40

Brown Linnet . ,

249

Feathers, structure of, &c.

13

Tree Creeper ,

111

Fieldfare

157

Woodpecker ,

111

Field Lark .

165

Bullfinch

233

Finches

224

Buntings . • .

195

Fire-crested Regulus .

70

Bushchat -. . t

77

Fire-crowned Kinglet .

70

Firetail

96

Cages . « » •

272

Food of Cage Birds .

286

Chaffinch .

224

Furzeling

56

300

INDEX.

PAGE

PAGE

Furze Wren .

56

Lintwhite . .

249

Little Miller

47

Garden Fauvet . .

40

Ouzel .

145

Marygold Finch .

65

Warbler

40

Marsh Reedling . .

61

Garrulous Fauvet

46

Mavis ....

129

Gold-crowned Kinglet .

65

Meadow Lark

191

Golden-crested Wren .

65

Pipet .

189

Golden Oriole . .

162

Mealy Redpole

260

Goldfinch

240

Merle ....

147

Goldspink .

245

Missel Thrush .

138

Grasshopper Warbler .

64

Mock Nightingale

37

Greater Pettychaps .

41

Moor Blackbird .

156

Redpole . i

249

Moss Cheeper

189

Greenfinch . v , «.

253

Mountain Finch .

229

Green Grosbeak .

253

Linnet

257

headed Quaketail

108

Ouzel .

156

Linnet

253

Sparrow

223

Grey Linnet . ' . ~ «r

249

Muff, Muffet, or Mufftie

44

Thrush . ,

138

• Wagtail ...

103

Nettlecreeper . »".

40,44

headed do. . .
and yellow do.

107
105

Nightingale . • .
Nuthatch .

24
124

Grosbeak

230

Ground Wren

50

Orioles

162

Ortolan Bunting . ,

204

Hawfinch . « , *:-:

230

Haybird . . •

50

Parrot Crossbill . .

264

Heather Lintie • ' . -

257

Peggy Whitethroat

44

Hedge Chanter .

73

Pettychaps, Greater

40

Sparrow <, .

73

Lesser . .

46

— — — Warbler . * *

73

Pick-a-bud . . v

235

Holm Thrush . 4

138

Pied Wagtail

104

Hoopoe . • , •

121

Pine Bullfinch

239

Horned Lark » v ;* •

185

Pipets ....

189

House Sparrow . .

212

Plumage of Birds

12

Huckmuck . • ,.,-•»=;

50

Province Furzeling

55

Jar-bird . . ..'.'•

127

Ray's Wagtail

109

Rearing young Birds .

285

Lapland Bunting . . ..',

209

Redbreast . . »

83

Larks . . . ,;..

165

Redpoles

249

Laverock . . . ,

165

Red-sided Thrush

160

Lesser Pettychaps

46

Redstart . , +

95

Redpole

258

Redtail . ." £

96

Whitethroat

46

Red Warbler

96

Ling-bird

189

Richard's Pipet .

194

Linnets

249

Redwing

160

INDEX.

301

Eeed Bunting . .

PAGE

202

PAGE

Titlark . . 189

Warbler

59

Tor Ouzel . , 156

Eing Bunting . .

202

Tree Creeper . Ill

Ouzel .

156

Pipet . . 191

Eobin or Eobinet .

83

Eedstart . 97

Eock Ouzel .

156

Sparrow • . 223

Pipet .

192

Spider . Ill

Eose Linnet .

249

Twite . . .257

Euddock . .

83

Variegated Thrush . 144

Savis Warbler . .

63

Screech Thrush

138

Wagtails . . . 103

Sea Lark t

192

Warblers . . . 23,40

Sedge Warbler .

57

Water Sparrow . . 202

Shell Apple .

224

Wheatear . . . 80

Shilfa

224

Wheybeard . . . 43

Shore Lark . .

185

Whin Chat ... 77

Shore Pipet .

192

Linnet . . 249

Short-beaked Field Lark

191

White-breasted Blackbird 156

Short- toed Lark .

188

Warbler 46

Short- winged Willow Wren

53

Whiterump . . . 80

Shrike

138

Whitetail ... 80

Shufflewing . .

73

Whitethroat . 40, 43, 46

Siskin . . .

247

Whitethroated Fauvet . 46

Skylark

165

White's Thrush . . 143

Skite .

198

Willow Warbler . . 50

Snow Bunting

207

Wren . . .50, 61

Song Birds in confinement,

Wind Thrush . . 160

Treatment of .

265

Woodlark ... 181

Song of Birds . .

18

Wood Warbler . . 49

Song Thrush

129

Wren ... 49

Sparrows

211

Thrush . . 138

Stonechack . . .

80

Woodwele ... 184

Stonechats . . .

73

Woofil or Woosel . 154

Stonechatter

79

Wren .... 113

Stonefinch .

224

Writing Lark . . 198

Stonesmich .

79

Storm Cock .

138

Yapous ... 164

Yeldring, Yoldring, &c. 198

Teaching of Birds

10

Yellow-bellied Linnet . 257

Thistle Finch

240

Yellow Bunting . . 197

Throstle

129

Hammer . . 197

Thrushes

129

Wagtail . .105-108

Tidley Goldfinch .

65

Wood Wren . 50

U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES